Your husband was always looking at his wedding ring.
You had noticed the habit months ago, not even a year after your wedding. Leon had spent nearly half of his life watching the people and things he cared about slip through his fingers. Raccoon City, Luis, the ghosts that came by and vanished—his world had always been ragged. He described it once to you that it felt like a black hole, just waiting to swallow him whole.
Until he met you. Suddenly, he had a home that smelled of clean laundry, shoes in the doorway, a quiet life, and a very loving you who loved him with no conditions.
And that’s the thing, he couldn’t stop looking at the proof of it.
You and he worked in the same place. At the headquarters, the dynamic between you and Leon was a bit of an amusement for the rest of your colleagues. You’re more of a communications specialist, stationed in the grind of the main office and hefty paperwork, while your husband was the legendary field agent with a private office and a resume that can rival the president at this point.
Whenever you and he cross paths, you would have to hide a smile behind your manila folders while he fully, softly, and with all the love he could show, smiles at you–undeterred by his adoration for his spouse. It’s usually accompanied by his eyes suggesting something else, dropping to your mouth and making you shiver even with the distance between you two, but you brush it off, often warning him just before going to the office.
“It's work hours, Leon. Focus.”
He’d lean in close enough so you were able to hear his deep murmur, “Not with those lips, sweet. It’s very tempting.”
While he was playful in the hallways and corridors, the true visibility of his habits showed when you weren't around. During meetings, he would just take his eyes from the projector screen and look down at his ring. You’re never really in his meetings–no. It’s almost always classified and confidential, even from DSO employees, due to his high clearance, held behind biometric-locked doors.
You heard it from Sherry one time. The agency was big, and gossip travelled in its own way. She had come by to stop at your desk one afternoon, a wry smile inching on her face as she took a sip from her coffee.
You heard someone utter your name, “You seriously need to have a talk with your husband.”
Sherry!
“We were in the middle of a high-risk briefing just a while ago. Camera and satellite feeds, international tracking, the whole shennanigan. Hunningan had to call his name five times since the meeting head gave up at that point, getting his attention. Leon was completely in a different world.”
“Leon?” You turned towards her. Surprised, you add, “He’s usually focused.”
She laughs, making you confused. “He was staring down at his lap!” Sherry’s expression then softens, “Well, not his lap–his hand. I saw that he was looking at his wedding ring, tracing it with his hand. He looked like he was a million miles away in space.”
You brushed it off with a chuckle, promising Sherry that you would give him a warning at home, but a warm feeling bloomed in your chest not long after that.
At home, the warmth never disappeared. Rather, it only deepened when you saw it firsthand. A few nights later, your kitchen was filled with the rich and savory aroma of your cooking. You were standing at the stove, stirring a simmering sauce—your husband’s favorite- when you asked him to chop a few cloves of garlic for you.
It was peaceful, a domestic scene of two people who very much love each other. When you turned around, you just saw him standing perfectly still by the board. The knife was raised a few inches above the board, seemingly forgotten, while his gaze was locked into his left hand, most especially the silver band, watching the warm kitchen light.
“Leon, honey. Put the knife down, you might hurt yourself,” You say while you turn back at the stove, stirring softly. As if he could—he’s probably the last person you should warn when handling knives.
He blinks as a response, a deep chuckle coming out of him, and then continues his chore. He doesn’t have to explain himself.
However, there was a time when, in the middle of lovemaking, breathless yet full of pleasure, he decided to fully show his love once again.
The room was cool, your thighs were open, separated by his strong thighs, flushed and slicked with sweat. Your pants and his groans filled your bedroom. Your heart was hammering against your ribs as the pleasure kept on. Hot breaths puffed against your face as Leon was above you, forehead resting against yours. Slowly, he slid his hand down to find yours, calloused palms intertwining with your soft ones. He lifts your joined hands and rests them on the pillow beside your head, pinning you gently, once again, to the mattress.
“L-Leon–”
“Hush.” He utters your name very softly, it was a breath away from a prayer, and presses a soft kiss to your intertwined hands. He kissed your knuckles first, moved his lips to each of your nails, the back of your hand, and finally, he the physical proof of your loving promise to him–your wedding ring.
He let his lips stay there for a while, a long and deep tender kiss against the band. When he finally pulled away, he shifted upward, now pressing a soft and lingering kiss to your sweaty forehead.
“I got you.” He lovingly whispered against your skin.
And presses another tender kiss.
i just want him to hold me and (marry). please don't feed to ai.
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Guys I know everyone is crashing out over Leon wearing a ring on his finger in RE9... BUT what if instead of marriage that ring symbolizes his sobriety? And he wears it on his ring finger to show he's committed to the journey of sobriety he's been doing to better himself?
Pairing: RE9!Leon Kennedy x isekai'd!fem!Reader (ft. Grace Ashcroft and Victor Gideon)
Summary: Whenever you play Leon's part in Resident Evil Requiem, Leon hears everything you say—from your curses, to your praises, to your reaction to seeing him break open a warped door with his hatchet—he hears it all. Even when you get thrown into his universe, you're just as shameless as you were before you arrived.
Note: It ain't a Genshinluvr fic if I don't write at least one fic with an isekai plot. There are snippets of the actual game in this fic, and as the fic progresses, once you/the reader gets isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. I had the time of my life typing this out, not gonna lie. It was fun as hell. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).
Warning: Violence (the usual), Victor Gideon caressing Leon (is that a warning itself?), The Girl, you'll probably get secondhand embarrassment from this fic.
Word Count: 9.8k
You're buzzing with excitement, knowing you're going to see the 49-year-old Leon S. Kennedy in his glory after playing Grace's part at the Wrenwood Hotel. You have been anticipating the release of Resident Evil Requiem ever since you saw the trailer for the game. Now that it's in your Steam library, you have been itching to play the game after work.
You're sitting at your desk, knees pressing against your chest as the cut scene plays before you. Your heart is still pounding against your chest after you manage to escape from the infected police officer, Cole. You watch Grace collapse in the strange man's iron grip, her body slumping to the side, and the screen goes black.
"Is it finally happening?" You whisper, leaning forward towards the monitor, and watch the series of police cars slowly appear on the screen, before cutting to a scene where it shows a dead body with strange blotches on the palm of the deceased's hand. Your eyes light up. "It is! It is it is it is!"
The man—obviously, it's thee Leon S. Kennedy—gets up from where he was kneeling and leaves the area that is blocked off with crime scene tape.
"Talk to me. Is this one like the others?" A woman's voice breaks through the sound of pouring rain as the man walks towards the CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS and POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape.
"Same black blotches." He ducks under the tape and continues to walk past the police cars at the crime scene.
"And it's not postmortem lividity?" The mission coordinator asks.
"No." He turns toward the area where his car is parked. "No, this is different. That's six now. Six survivors of Raccoon City, all dead from the same thing." The scene switches to the inside of the car.
"Yeah, that's… not good."
"No… No, it's not." The car door opens, and the investigator gets into the car before closing it.
You lean in your seat, biting your bottom lip. God, his voice is so husky. You continue watching the cut scene, completely immersed and enamored by the sight of the man you will be playing as very soon, once the cut scene is over. The mission coordinator proceeds to give additional information to the mysterious man.
You already know who this mysterious man is behind the wheel. But when the bottom half of his face is shown in the rear-view mirror, you audibly gasp and continue to watch the cut scene, watching the man grab his gun and pop out the cylinder, spinning it around before popping it back in, while the mission coordinator continues to speak in his intercom.
The minute the game finally reveals Leon's face, you gasp. "Oh my—Leon, you're so handsome."
For about thirty seconds, Leon doesn't respond to the woman on the other end of his intercom. His eyebrows slightly furrow, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Did he just hear someone else's voice? It's certainly not the mission coordinator. What the hell?
"You there, Leon?" The mission coordinator asks, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Leon nods. "Yeah. I'm here."
"You okay?" Leon can hear the woman raise her eyebrows as she waits for his response.
Leon doesn't respond to her question. Leon glances in his rear-view mirror, checking to see if a random woman may have sneaked into his car, but he sees no one. Leon pushes the start button of his Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT, and the black luxury car purrs to life.
"Send me the address," Leon says, putting his car in reverse and turning halfway. "I'll check it out." Leon puts his gearshift into drive before he drives off into the night.
You stare at the dark screen after watching Leon's car disappear into the night—your mouth agape. You're so glad that you spent $69.99 for this game. You could spend additional money on the deluxe version, but you wanted to finish the game first before deciding whether a deluxe version is worth buying.
You end up playing the game for a little over an hour. You're now on Grace's part of the game, where you need to find a screwdriver for the fuse box in Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. You didn't know what got into you when you chose to play the standard classic mode rather than casual or standard modern mode.
"God, I'm so stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?" You mutter after Grace grabs the ink ribbon in the room that you unlocked with the Cherub Key. "Limited autosaves, and I need to save my gameplay wisely. Why did I choose this mode again?"
You're roaming around the area as Grace—you're playing in first-person point of view—trying to gather the courage to go to the nursing station. It's so dark that you have to squint to see in the darkness. As much as you want to change the setting to make it a little brighter for you to see in the dark, where's the fun in that?
"It's okay! I can do this! Everything will be okay, and nothing will happen!" You try to give yourself a pep talk, having Grace walk to the nursing station with a tiny lighter in her hand, illuminating her path. Just as Grace approaches the door, a cut scene is triggered, and an infected corpse falls through the door, scaring both you and Grace.
Grace leans down and touches the corpse's neck. "He's dead." Grace states the obvious.
"I would hope so." You mutter, mentally preparing for what's to come.
After Grace moves the man's head, a large hand emerges from the darkness and grabs the infected corpse. Grace lets out a choked gasp, watching in horror as the grotesque monster brings the dead body up to her mouth and bites off the head.
Its eyes lock on Grace, mouth and teeth stained with blood, and it leans towards Grace. You flinch back from your monitor, questioning your choices on playing the game in the dead of night. After the cut scene ends, you immediately turn around and leave the nursing station with the monster at your (Grace's?) tail.
"Come on, come on, come on! Can you please run any faster, Grace?" You panic, shaking your legs as you run to the nearest room that has lights. When you successfully run to Room 203, you turn around to see the grotesque monster at the entrance of the room.
The monster steps into the room, causing Grace to fearfully yell out, "Don't come any closer!"
The monster's gray skin starts sizzling and burning from the lights in the room. It shrieks and steps outside the room. You and Grace watch the monster climb up a hole in the ceiling, leaving Grace alone at last. Just when you thought you were safe, the lights in the room went out, sending chills and shivers down your spine.
You run out of the room, heart pounding against your chest. After you make it back to the nursing station, you grab the med injector and start searching for the screwdriver for the fuse box. You can hear blood pounding in your ears, listening to Grace's shaky breath.
You search around the room and eventually have to move the cart. But before you do that, you move it slightly and open the locker to see a green herb.
"This could be useful," Grace mutters, grabbing it.
You climb onto the cart, grabbing the antique coin from the top of the locker before getting off. You grab the cart and start pushing towards the shelf where you spotted a red toolbox perched on top. Just as you're halfway to the shelf, a metal tray slides off the cart and clatters loudly to the ground, causing you and Grace to freeze momentarily.
You hear chains and shackles dragging on the floor, followed by heavy footsteps that are heading towards the nursing station where Grace is. Out of sheer panic, you grab the cart and move it closer to the shelf, ignoring the other items falling off and crashing to the ground.
You catch a glimpse of the creature through the window, slamming her hand against the glass while walking towards the nursing station. At this point, your heart is in your throat, and you're close to pausing the game and ending it there for the night, but the issue is that you still need to save the game, and if you don't, you have to redo where it last auto-saved.
Once the cart is close enough to the shelf, you climb onto it and grab the red toolbox, unlatching it and taking out the screwdriver. You sigh in relief, hopping off the cart and running to the nearest hiding spot. You extinguish the flames of Grace's lighter, staring at the door while listening to the monster getting closer to where you're having Grace hide.
The monster's hand suddenly appears, grabbing onto the doorframe before walking into the room. It sniffs the air, walking further into the room and looking around. It gets close to where the cart is and lets out a frenzied growl, swiping at the cart, causing it to fly to the desk. Grace whimpers.
You take it as a sign to start running. Before the mutated creature can turn and look in your and Grace's direction, you have Grace leave the hiding spot and start sprinting in the darkness. Since the creature turned the lights off in Room 203, you start running to the room where the typewriter sits. Before you pass the nursing station, the door bursts open, and the monster appears.
You briefly pause the game, staring at the menu in horror. Your heart is thudding painfully against your chest as you try to calm down. You lean back in your seat, heavily debating if you should just stop there.
"But I made so much progress. I have the screwdriver. I just need to find a way to get Grace to go around the monster, run to Room 201, get the fuse from the fuse box in that very room, and run to the other fuse box where I got the Cherub Key."
You take a deep breath and close your eyes. God, this is horrifying. Playing the game in first person point of view makes it even scarier than you anticipated. You give yourself a pep talk before unpausing the game. Grace cries out in fear, freezing in fear when the monster fully reveals itself in front of Grace.
You start mashing the buttons, begging for Grace to start moving or else she's dead. "Come on, come on, come on! We gotta go, or else we're next, Grace!"
As if she heard you, Grace turns around and starts running to the other entrance of the nursing station where the two of you came from. Grace hides near the desk in the nursing station, panting as the two of you wait and listen to the monster walk past the nursing station over and over.
"This is horrifying." You mutter, hands trembling on your mouse and keyboard. "Is the empty bottle even going to work in this situation?" You creep towards the door where the monster burst from, trying to see where it is.
You take the empty bottle out of Grace's inventory and aim for the furthest part of the hallway—close to where the plant was knocked over—and toss the bottle. The bottle shatters, grabbing the creature's attention. It shrieks and charges towards where the bottle landed, giving you and Grace a small window to escape your hiding spot.
You have Grace sprint to Room 201 as fast as she could, but it feels like Grace wasn't running at all from first person perspective. It feels more like a power walk rather than Grace running for her life. Halfway down the hallway, you and Grace hear the monster shrieking and charging towards where you're heading.
"Hurry, hurry!"
Grace pushes the door aside and makes it to the room where the typewriter sits. You sigh in relief, blood pounding in your ears. Grace takes a few steps towards where the fuse box is, only for the entire building to shake and the lights to flicker and turn off.
"We need to get that fuse and get the hell out of here as soon as possible," You say, making Grace go to the fuse box inside the closet. You unscrew the fuse box with the screwdriver, and Grace takes out the fuse, triggering a cut scene.
Grace stares at the fuse, "Alright," she mutters. Grace turns around, and just when she can leave the closet, you and Grace hear a faint thud coming above her. Grace gasps and looks up at the gaping hole in the ceiling of the closet in horror.
Grace takes a step back, eyes still locked on the hole. "Oh my god," Grace whispers.
The monster starts climbing into the room where Grace is, causing Grace to gasp and start panicking. The cut scene suddenly ends, and now you find yourself forcing Grace to turn around and make a run for it to the fuse box where the Cherub Key was located.
The lights shatter, and the building rumbles as Grace runs through the dark hallways of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. When you press 'F' at the fuse box, a cut scene is triggered, showing Grace shoving the fuse into the fuse box, pressing the button, and quickly looking back as the security gate slowly pulls up.
You watch Grace drop to the ground and quickly crawl underneath the moving gate. "Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!" Grace pleads as she crawls through the gate, and the monster appears where Grace came from. You collapse in your seat, sighing in relief, happy that you have gotten through the first (among many) difficult parts of the game.
The monitor goes black before switching to another cut scene—but it starts with showing Leon's Porsche driving through the gate of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center and to the front. Leon exits the car, and you gasp in awe, completely enamored by the mere sight of Leon S. Kennedy.
"God, he looks so good." You whisper breathlessly as you watch him walk to the door of the facility after closing the car door. "Why can't you be real?" You lament, resting your chin on your knees as you continue watching the cut scene unfold.
Leon stands in the central hall, his eyes scanning his surroundings. It's quiet, too quiet. But despite how quiet it is in the facility, Leon still hears the same voice he heard earlier near the crime scene he left before arriving at the sanatorium. Maybe he's going crazy, and the side effects of the T-virus are starting to get to him.
You watch the nurse appear behind Leon, calling out to him and informing him that Dr. Gideon was expecting him.
"Funny. I don't remember getting an invitation," Leon's sarcastic response makes you snort, shaking your head. Leon hears the faint snort, the corners of his lips barely curving up into a smile.
The nurse continues speaking to Leon, telling him that Dr. Gideon is waiting for him. Leon soon follows after the nurse as she guides him to who knows where. The cut scene continues a little longer, only for the nurse to lead Leon to the rehabilitation ward. The door closes behind Leon, making him turn around. Then the cut scene ends there, and now you're in control of Leon.
You don't move Leon, watching him on the screen and admiring his design. God, the developers at Capcom really went all out for Leon. You spin the camera around, continuing to admire him. Leon looks around the facility, wondering why he couldn't move despite trying to. It's like he's locked in place until someone commands him to move. The nurse is waiting at the end of the hallway, waiting for him to follow.
"Okay, I need to get moving and stop getting easily distracted by Leon," You say to yourself, finally controlling Leon's movements and proceeding to follow the nurse as Leon.
The nurse explains about the facility and what they do at the sanatorium as both Leon and the nurse continue walking down the hall. Leon has no idea where the nurse is leading him, and neither do you, but judging by the map, it's probably to your (mainly Leon's) doom.
"The facility keeps a low profile due to the sensitive nature of the research," The nurse says, walking to the rehabilitation center of the facility.
"Oh, I bet it does," Leon replies, as he follows the nurse throughout the facility.
You hum, eyebrows furrowing at the conversation between Leon and the nurse of the strange facility. "That's something someone suspicious would say," You mutter, face scrunching up. You're so glad that you haven't dealt with any horrors as Leon just yet. "You have a mutated monster stomping around your facility right now, too."
Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment, still questioning if he's going crazy. Leon glances around, then at the nurse, but she doesn't seem to notice anything strange—or hear a woman's voice for that matter—and continues making her way to the room at the end of the rehabilitation ward. Once Leon gets closer to the room and the nurse, a new cut scene starts for you.
You yawn, stretching in your seat, watching the nurse leave Leon alone in the room and closing the door behind her as she leaves. The camera zooms in on Leon, making your face scrunch up.
"God, this Dr. Gideon guy is way more obsessed with Leon than I am," You comment, watching Leon peek at every little thing in the room.
Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment. "Almost as you are? What do you mean by that?" Leon wants to ask. Instead, Leon chooses to stay silent, as saying things out loud would earn weird looks from whoever passes by the room he's in, or could land him in this exact facility.
Little did you know, Leon's searching around for where the voice is coming from. The woman's voice is loud and clear to him, and yet he sees no one. He's alone in this room, but he's been hearing voices in his head every now and then. The voice comes and goes, gushing over him and his skills; other times, the same voice would chime in after someone—who's conversing with Leon—says something.
Leon rests against the desk, reaching for the photograph of Victor Gideon and his medical team that runs the facility. Leon subconsciously furrows his eyebrows as he scrutinizes the image in his hand before setting it back down where he found it. Leon checks the time on his watch, his expensive watch appearing on your monitor.
"That looks expensive, but I shouldn't be surprised. You drive a Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT—that's probably the most expensive thing I've seen you own." You comment, watching the time tick away on Leon's watch.
Much to your disappointment, the cut scene soon comes to an end after the nurse is killed by the chainsaw-wielding doctor. You're soon in control of Leon again and have to kill every infected person in the surrounding area with a chainsaw, which you're not a fan of.
"This thing is a bit hard to wield around. It kind of slows me down, and after Leon plunges the chainsaw into a zombie, I would need to retrieve it again from said zombie…" You sigh, shaking your head. "Oh, shit." The chainsaw drops to the ground and starts spinning out of control.
You force Leon out of the way, trying to avoid getting hit by the out-of-control chainsaw. A zombie nurse charges at Leon with her arms outstretched, trying to grab him. You try shooting the nurse with the requiem gun, but miss.
"Fuck. My aim is atrocious. I am so sorry, Leon. You're supposed to be cool, but I'm making you look like an amateur loser." You frown.
Leon frowns. "Amateur loser? Who are you calling an amateur loser?" Leon mouths to himself, continuing to aim his gun at the infected nurse.
You try shooting the nurse as she gets closer to Leon, but before you can shoot, the nurse lunges at Leon. You let out a choked gasp, assuming Leon is done for, but he ducks underneath the nurse's grasp and shoots her at the back of the head, blood spewing all over the place when her head explodes.
"Whoa!" You gasp, eyes wide in awe. "How did you do that?!" You exclaim, pausing briefly to look at what buttons you've pressed, but you're too busy mashing different buttons to know the actual controls of the dodge he just did.
You unpause the game. "Leon, can you do that again?" You ask yourself, shooting every zombie that's charging at Leon at full speed. How the hell did you do that again? You really need to know what the controls are, or else you won't be able to pull that cool move ever again.
As more zombies emerge from the other rooms in the rehabilitation ward, you shoot every zombie in the head successfully despite having bad aim. An infected doctor lunges at Leon, causing you to panic momentarily, miss your shot, and giving the zombie an opportunity to grab onto Leon and bite down on his shoulders.
"Ah, fuck! I'm so sorry, Leon!"
Leon cries out in pain as he thrashes around, trying to get the zombie to release. You press on your mouse frantically, watching Leon's health bar rapidly deplete at a dangerous pace, the longer the zombie bites down on Leon's shoulders. Leon reaches for his hatchet and attacks the zombie, causing it to back away.
"I really need to learn how to properly parry and aim." You grumble, aiming Leon's requiem gun at the zombie and shoot, only to miss again. "Man, I'm making Leon look uncool, what the fuck."
The zombie lunges at Leon again, and before you can panic, Leon dodges under the zombie's arm and shoots it at the back of its head. The adrenaline dies down, and Leon is left alone in the rehabilitation ward, surrounded by headless zombies.
The only sounds you hear are the sounds of the chainsaw and Leon's heavy breathing, his health bar yellow rather than green. Before escaping the ward, you have Leon search around the room for a healing item. You could use the green herb in your inventory, but it's not enough to fully heal Leon.
"It's okay, Leon! You're going to be okay! You're not going to die under my watch, no matter how bad I am with aiming and parrying." You reassure the DSO agent, picking up the mixed herbs from the glass cabinet that Leon broke. After picking up the mixed herbs, you immediately use them, watching Leon's health bar slightly go up.
You continue playing the game until almost four in the morning, only having to end your gameplay after Leon's cut scene with Victor Gideon after your Mom peeks into your room, scaring the shit out of you.
"Why are you still awake?!" Your Mom asks, staring at you in horror.
You point at your monitor, a cut scene of Leon tied up to a chair playing on your screen. Your Mom peeks at your computer and sighs, shaking her head before leaving your room, muttering under her breath about how you need to stop staying up so late.
You turn back to your monitor, taking multiple screenshots of Leon tied to the chair while Victor Gideon is almost sweet-talking to the DSO agent. You stare at Leon in awe, mouth agape. The side view of Leon on? Whew! His biceps are looking extra delicious.
You bite your bottom lip. "God, I would love to sink my teeth into those biceps of his." You lean back in your seat, groaning. "The ladies at Capcom did a fantastic job at designing Leon."
You watch Victor Gideon touch Leon, almost oh-so intimately. The way his gray fingers brush the strands of Leon's brown and silver hair. Ugh. You're so envious of Victor's privilege to even be in the presence of Leon Kennedy. You make sure to take multiple screenshots of Leon—frame by frame.
Leon can hear the camera shutters, raising an eyebrow. It's strange how Victor Gideon is touching him, and yet this voice in his head is swooning over him being tied up and touched by the former T-Virus researcher. Of course, he doesn't hear you mention a single thing about Victor, only about wanting to sink your teeth into his (your words, not his) beefy biceps.
"I don't like how he's touching you, Leon. He's practically fondling you." You grumble. "I should be the one to do that, not him. Just like how I should be the one to lunge at you and sink my teeth into your biceps, not those greedy zombies."
The camera cuts to Leon looking down while Victor Gideon softly says, "Are the answers to your disease here?" after pulling down Leon's shirt collar. Victor leans down, his face not far from Leon's. "Yes…." Victor whispers.
Leon flinches, his face pinching up with disgust. "You know, I do have a question," Leon says, looking at Victor, deadpanned. "When was the last time you brushed your teeth?"
Leon hears immediate laughter coming from you after asking. Leon's tempted to laugh as well, but because of the predicament he's in, he doesn't smile. The smile on Victor's face slips off, and he backs away from Leon and takes a few steps in front of Leon.
Mechanical whirring can be heard from Leon's end as Victor stares at him, zooming in on his face and his eyes. You take a quick screenshot, thanking Victor for being oddly meticulous when it comes to Leon. If it weren't for Victor, you wouldn't have a lot of screenshots of Leon added to your new collection.
The cut scene soon ends with you taking over fifty screenshots (you're pressing down on the screenshot button, taking screenshots of every frame), and you find yourself back in control of Leon. You frown, letting out a wistful sigh. "I'm going to need to find a stopping point and go to bed. Let's trigger an auto save somewhere, and I'll continue when I wake up." You say to yourself.
You make it to where Leon needs to go and stop in front of a metal cabinet storage that's blocking a doorway. You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, approaching said cabinet storage with a cheeky smile. Oh, you are going to enjoy this!
You press 'F,' and Leon starts lifting the cabinet to move it out of the way, his biceps and back muscles flexing as he lets out a grunt. Before Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way, you suddenly release the 'F' key.
"Oh, fuck, my hands slipped." You say to no one.
It's a good thing Leon's back is facing your monitor because if it were facing his direction, you would've seen an eye roll from him along with a shy smile. Leon knows what you're doing; he's not stupid. You press the 'F' key again, watching Leon lift the cabinet, his biceps flexing underneath that tight shirt of his. Again, before Leon can fully move the obstacle out of the way, you release the keys.
You huff. "Man, my keyboard is messed up. I really need to get a new one because for some reason, it's not lasting long," You say with a shit-eating grin on your face. "I have a bad feeling that this keyboard is going to give me… issues the longer I play this game with a broken keyboard."
"Oh, yeah?" Leon mutters, shaking his head with a small smirk, his shoulders shaking from his quiet laughter. He can get used to hearing your commentary while he's handling the shit show that's happening at Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center.
Finally, after some time, you finally have Leon move the metal cabinet, relishing in the sight of his muscles flexing underneath his shirt, and the sound of his grunts as he does so. Leon S. Kennedy, the man that you are! The autosave button appears in the top left corner of the screen, signaling you to go to bed.
With a heavy heart, you bid Leon goodnight—as if he could hear you—before pausing and exiting the game. You plop onto your bed after the game closes and roll on your bed, eyelids feeling heavy after staring at your monitor for who knows how long. You close your eyes and drift into a dreamless sleep.
A few hours into your sleep, you wake up to the feeling of your bedroom shaking, forcing yourself to crack your eyes open briefly and stare up at the ceiling, still groggy from your slumber. You rub your eyes, mumbling to yourself, and turn over on your right side before going back to sleep. Earthquakes are common, so waking up to one isn't out of the ordinary. Nothing seems out of the norm, but little did you know, this isn't any other earthquake you've dealt with in the past.
That is, until you wake up to someone shaking you nonstop. "Hey, can you hear me? Wake up!" The voice says as the shaking continues.
You groan, trying to turn over and ignore whoever is shaking you. "Not now." You mumble, eyebrows furrowing.
Whoever is shaking you is very persistent, as they continue to do something to try to rouse you from your sleep. The person starts lightly patting your cheek, muttering about how you need to wake up and stop ignoring them. You finally crack your eyes open after a while, vision blurry from your sleep. A blurry face is hovering above yours, but as your vision gradually clears up, your heart nearly falls into your ass.
"Leon?" You whisper in disbelief, mind still foggy from your sleep.
Leon chuckles, sighing in relief. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Good to see those eyes of yours," Leon says, his eyes scanning the littlest details on your face. "I was worried you weren't going to wake up, but it seems like you're not a morning person, huh."
You don't respond to Leon as you slowly reach up and cup his face with both your hands, still trying to comprehend what's happening. Surely this is a dream, right? You did play Resident Evil Requiem for hours before going to bed, and Leon's the last thing you were thinking about before drifting to sleep.
"This is the most vivid dream I have ever had," You mutter, still holding Leon's face in your hands. "Man, it's going to be so disappointing when I wake up."
Leon stares down at you, confused. "What are you talking about?"
You shake your head, head falling to the side before sighing sadly. "This is the best dream I've ever had, and yet I'm going to get a rude awakening very soon once this ends." You lament.
"Aw, man. I think you hit your head pretty hard when you fell," Leon mutters, feeling around your head for a possible concussion.
You blink at Leon. "Of course, I fell for you. Who wouldn't fall for you?"
Leon shakes his head, the corner of his lips curling up. Despite everything, you still manage to be a sweet talker, much to Leon's amusement. Then again, you do think that this is all a dream. Leon's fingers brush a certain area on your head, earning a hiss from you. "I can feel a goose egg forming."
Now that your mind clears up and you're more awake than you were, you come to the realization that Leon is cradling you in his arms—his beefy arms. Wait, that means that his bicep is your pillow. You rub your eyes again, sitting up and looking around to see that you're not in your room. This dream is a bit too realistic for your liking, because why are you in the attic of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center?
Panic hits you like a train. Your head snaps towards Leon's direction. "This is a dream, right? I'm still asleep in my bed, right?" You start pinching yourself, but nothing is happening. "Oh, my god. This can't be real. This has to be a dream."
Leon doesn't say anything. Instead, he continues to stare at you, taking in every detail of your face, your hair, and your clothes. The longer Leon listens to you ramble, the more he realizes something.
His eyes light up. "You're the voice I've been hearing," Leon says, his arm still holding you up.
His comment makes you go silent. "Pardon?" You press your lips into a thin line. "What do you mean?"
Leon's lips curl up into a smile, shaking his head. "I don't think now is a good time to tell you when you're having an inner turmoil."
Maybe a hug will help you calm down a little, but given the things he heard you say a few hours before your arrival, it probably won't help. But it won't hurt to try, right? Leon pulls you into his arms, hugging you. Your cheek is cushioned against his chest, his beefy arms around your torso, and his chin is resting atop your head.
You wrap your arms around Leon's neck, feeling yourself melting in his arms. God, it feels so nice to hug him. You can't describe what it's like to hug Leon, but you can live in his arms if it's possible. You and Leon sit like that for a while. It doesn't feel weird or uncomfortable to be hugging someone you don't know—a fictional one, to be specific.
It's comforting and gives you a small window to collect your thoughts. You went to bed, but woke up to an earthquake before falling back asleep. Then you're roused from your sleep by Leon, who claimed that you hit your head when you fell. This is all so strange.
"How the hell did I get isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem? I didn't get hit by a truck." You mutter to yourself, but it's loud enough for Leon to hear.
Leon raises his eyebrows, leaning down to look at your face from the side. "What does 'isekai' mean? And what do you mean by getting hit by a truck?" God, the creases between his eyebrows are so cute. You'd love to smooth the wrinkles over with your fingers.
"I will explain that to you after you tell me what you meant by 'you're the voice I've been hearing,'" You reply, looking up at him.
Leon stares at you for a moment, chuckling to himself. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you what I meant when I said that," Leon caves in.
Leon's not sure if he should look forward to your reaction after he explains everything to you. But hey, you did say that you want him to explain what he meant by what he said, so who is he to deny you? As Leon explains everything, he watches your reaction and body language closely.
The way your face fell was both comical and endearing because now you're covering your face out of sheer embarrassment, but you didn't cover your ears, letting him know that you're still listening despite your reaction. By the time Leon is done explaining, he has a wide smile on his face, the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes becoming noticeable.
You take a deep breath, trying not to have a mental breakdown after hearing Leon's explanation. "You heard everything." You say. Suddenly, you feel faint, but you can't faint in front of Leon. You can't embarrass yourself in front of Leon for the umpteenth time in a row.
Leon nods, still smiling. "That is correct."
"My cursing whenever you get bitten by a zombie."
"You curse like a sailor, but also like a child who was granted permission to curse by her parents." He replies.
You immediately protest. "What! No, I don't!" Do you? Man, this just keeps getting worse and worse for you. "… You also heard my thirst over your…"
"Beefy biceps, me using my hatchet to crack open a warped door, and you claiming that your keyboard is broken when I need to move the fallen metal cabinet in front of a doorway. I can go on, but I'm afraid that you'll have a heart attack if I continue." Leon says.
You hug your knees to your chest. At this point, you're more likely to die from embarrassment than from a zombie bite. You didn't know that Leon can hear everything you say! Does that mean Grace and Victor hear the things you say, too?
You peek at Leon, "Please tell me that no one else hears the things I say." You whisper.
Leon gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to worry about that. As far as I know, I was the only person who heard your voice. It doesn't seem like Victor heard your voice, and as for that FBI agent—Grace Ashcroft, I'm not entirely sure."
After Leon's explanation, you choose to stay quiet. There's no need for you to embarrass yourself again in front of Leon, right? Leon checks his watch, and when he looks up, you're staring at him with stars in your eyes. Leon is even more beautiful in person. His hair looks so soft and healthy for someone who bleaches his hair often. God, the stubble… You love the scratchiness of it when you cupped his face in your hands.
Leon doesn't say anything; instead, he lets you do what makes you happy and stay sane. His eyes are blue, but they're not nearly as blue as it was when he was in his early twenties. Maybe they're still the same blue, but you would need to get a closer look at it—if he catches your drift.
"I love how you kept your signature hairstyle after all these years…" You murmur, leaning side to side as your eyes continue taking in every detail of him.
"Now it's your turn to explain to me what 'isekai' means," Leon comments, crossing his arms over his chest.
You quickly glance at Leon's bulging biceps before looking back at him innocently. His biceps looked at you first, so it's only fair for you to look at them in return. "Where do I start…" You trail off, tapping on your chin.
So you start explaining to Leon what isekai means, giving him a rundown on it, its origins, and how there's a handful of animated shows (specifically anime) that have this concept. Leon is intrigued, but also confused. The look of confusion on Leon's handsome face is cute. His eyebrows are furrowing, his head tilting to the side while not taking his eyes off of you for one bit.
You subconsciously reach forward and gently press on the space between his eyebrows, smoothing the creases between his brows. Man, even Leon has soft skin for someone who goes through hell. You meet Leon's eyes, causing you to quickly retract your hand before apologizing sheepishly.
"After explaining to me what 'isekai' meant, it makes sense. Is there a way for you to return to your world?" Leon asks.
You frown dramatically. "Aw, you want to return me to sender already? I'm hurt." You joke, clutching your chest playfully. "I thought you would enjoy my company after going through the horrors of having to deal with Victor Gideon caressing you lovingly."
You turn around and face the wall, pretending to be offended by what he asked. Leon shudders at the memory of Victor's fingers brushing through his hair, fingers ghosting over the dark blotches on his neck after lowering the collar of his shirt. That is not a pleasant memory, and he certainly wishes he could erase it.
"Your presence is a breath of fresh air. I'm merely asking because I don't think you would want to stay and deal with what's waiting for us," Leon replies, reaching forward and grabbing your forearm and turning you around to face him.
You can just melt in his arms right now. You've imagined this very moment, but in a different scenario. Leon Kennedy grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, gazing at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, his eyebrows knitting together as he pleads for you not to leave. And the way he says it? It'll be soft, making you weak at the knees.
"By the way, you never introduced yourself. You know my name, but I don't know yours." Leon adds, pulling you out of your thoughts.
Your eyes widen. "Oh, crap! You're right! How could I forget?" You smack your forehead before introducing yourself to Leon. After telling Leon your first and last name, Leon stares at you while muttering your full name to himself. Heat rushes to your face the longer he does it.
After what feels like forever, Leon smiles and nods. "Your name suits you. I like it. Your parents must've put a lot of thought and love into naming you."
You stare at Leon, mouth agape. Why did he have to say that? Leon raises an eyebrow at you, smiling in amusement. Without saying anything, you cover your face with both hands as heat continues rushing to your face. This man can effortlessly make you blush like a schoolgirl.
You groan behind your hands. "What are you doing to me?! It's not fair. You know you have this effect on me! Damn you, Leon Scott Kennedy!" You whine.
If only you could evaporate right now. Maybe Leon was up to something when he asked if there was a way for you to return to your world, because how much longer can you handle being in the presence of Leon S. Kennedy? The only thing you hear is laughter coming from Leon—his laugh is soft, very gentle. You peek between your fingers to see him shaking his head, a wide smile on his face as he gazes at the wooden floor.
Realization hits you. You're so fucked. There's not a single man in your life—real and fictional—who has made you feel this way before. Until Leon S. Kennedy happened. You love every version of Leon, but there's something about forty-nine-year-old Leon Kennedy. Aside from his looks, there's something that makes you feel so warm and gooey inside when he shows up on your screen.
You look at an imaginary camera, hands falling on your lap before sighing. "I'm so fucked." You whisper, shaking your head in disbelief. "Okay, let's kill some zombies and get the hell out of here."
You push yourself off the ground, feeling around for the so-called goose egg Leon felt on your head, while Leon gets off the ground and brushes the dust off his ass. Leon grabs your wrist, preventing you from finding this goose egg. You look at Leon, frowning.
He wags his pointer finger at you, shaking his head. "Don't search for it."
"Fine." You mumble, lowering your arm, but Leon doesn't let go of your wrist.
You blink at him, looking back and forth from your hands to Leon's face. Leon doesn't say anything and starts looking for an exit with you in tow, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. You will take that as a win because Leon is holding your hand, kind of! You peek at Leon and wiggle your wrist to hold his hand.
You and Leon soon come across the familiar metal cabinet that's blocking the entrance. Your heart nearly sinks into the pit of your stomach when you realize what you're about to face soon. This is strange; you could've sworn that you moved the cabinet before ending the game right there.
"Step back. I don't want you to get hurt." Leon says, gently nudging you to the side, and starts lifting the cabinet.
You press your lips into a thin line and cover your mouth, watching his back muscles and biceps flex under the fabric of his shirt. Leon grunts and starts lifting the metal cabinet. You bite your lower lip, enticed by what you're seeing and hearing.
After a few minutes, Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way. He fixes his shirt before pulling out his gun from the holster. Leon turns to you to see you staring at him in a daze, earning an eyebrow raise and smirk from him. You quickly snap out of it, acting like you weren't ogling him just now.
"So, do I follow you into that room or do I wait out here until you finish your, uh, duty?" You ask, rubbing the back of your neck.
You don't know how much has changed since your sudden arrival in this universe, but you're hoping it's not much change, but who knows?
Leon holds his hand out and gestures for you to follow him. "I'm not leaving you behind, are you crazy?"
"For you? Yes." Is your automatic response. You slap your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. "I mean, let's go and get this over with!" You say, grabbing his hand and walking through the entrance with Leon in tow.
You're always amazed by your ability to humiliate yourself. This has got to be a new record for you. Once you and Leon step through that door, everything shifts. The atmosphere, the mood, the air, and the sound. You hear squelching coming from the other side of the room.
Think of someone chewing with their mouth open, but multiply that by a thousand. That's how loud it is in person. The squelching is accompanied by deep rumbles. You and Leon trade looks with each other before slowly making your way through the room, making sure Leon picks up ammo for his guns.
Leon stops in his tracks, holding his arm out in front of you before looking over his shoulder at you. "You're going to have to trust me on this, alright?" Leon murmurs.
You look at him, confused. "What are you planning? Should I be worried?" You whisper.
Leon doesn't respond and continues walking towards where the disturbing sound is coming from. You swallow the lump in your throat when you eye the grotesque creature towering over a dead body, feasting on its rotting flesh. The smell is rancid, making your stomach churn.
You grip the back of Leon's shirt, lightly tugging it. "How can you handle a smell like that when you're dealing with these things?" You mutter to him, tempted to bury your face into his back to block out the smell of decomposition and blood.
"When you're constantly out on the field dealing with these things, you'd get used to it."
You raise an eyebrow at his response. "But you recoiled when you caught a whiff of Victor's breath." You point out.
Leon snorts. "Smelling rotting flesh and bad breath are two different things. Besides, who knows how long it's been since he has brushed his teeth?"
"Can't argue with that."
You continue following Leon around the room while he collects ammo for his guns, occasionally peeking from behind him to get a look at the mutated being. For something that large, you're shocked that it hasn't heard you and Leon walking around the vicinity.
"Do you trust me?" Leon asks suddenly, turning towards you.
You falter. "Uh, yes, I do trust you—even though we met not long ago. I'm surprised you trust me despite the things I put you through." You refer to your failed aiming and parrying before you were isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem.
Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course, I trust you. You're the only one who kept me sane at the start of this shit show." Leon replies.
Leon turns around and aims his gun at the ravenous, mutated creature and shoots it in the head with his shotgun. You flinch at the sound, gripping his shirt hard as you watch the creature stop munching on the corpse and turn towards your and Leon's direction.
Fueled by rage and anger, the chunky zombie roars. "Food! Food! Food!" He growls, getting ready to charge towards you and Leon.
"Hope I'm not next," Leon mutters.
Before you can say anything, Leon quickly turns around, grabs you by the waist, and tosses you over his shoulders before making a run for it. Upside down, you wrap your arms around his waist, whimpering as the monster gets closer to you and Leon. You certainly didn't sign up for this when you got isekai'd, but hey, you didn't sign up to be isekai'd in general!
"Leon! He's getting closer!" You whimper, patting his lower back.
Leon loads his shotgun, making sharp turns to avoid getting grabbed by the ravenous creature. Leon picks up a med injector from a wall that was broken by the monster, along with the shotgun shells and handgun ammo. Leon quickly grabs onto the ladder and climbs up. You nearly flip over if it weren't for Leon's quick reflexes and your iron grip around his waist.
"Are you sure I'm not getting in the way?" You ask, lifting your head to look at Leon. "I feel like I'm adding more weight on you. Metaphorically and literally."
Leon pats the back of your thighs. "You're fine, you're not getting in the way or adding weight on me," Leon reassures you.
Leon quickly puts you down on the platform, fixes his gear, and gestures for you to get on his shoulders by squatting in front of you. You climb over Leon, stomach resting on his shoulders, while your arms are wrapped around his waist. Leon wraps one arm over the back of your thighs, checking to see where the mutated monster is.
On cue, the chunky mutated monster, which you found out is named Timothy from the note Leon read to you, appears at the bottom of the platform. Timothy growls and tries reaching for you and Leon, but Leon shoots him in the face with his shotgun, but Timothy's not phased by it.
Timothy starts climbing up the platform, causing you to involuntarily flinch. "Leon…" You plead, patting Leon's thighs. "We need to move, or else we will be on Timothy's menu!"
Leon tightens his grip on your legs. "Brace yourself."
Before you can process what Leon's doing, you suddenly feel airborne. Your heart is in your throat as you cling to Leon for dear life. Leon lands on the ground with a grunt and shoots Timothy a few more times before making a run for it, loading his shotgun.
The chase lasted five more minutes because Timothy was very motivated to get both you and Leon. Finally, Timothy stops, and blood starts spewing out of the holes and gashes on his body that he received from the shotgun shells and Leon's hatchet.
While Timothy is gushing all over the place, Leon walks to the other end of the room to collect extra items that are lying around before putting you back on the ground once Timothy explodes. You brush off your clothes and turn to Leon, propping your hands on your hips and watching him reload his shotgun before switching to his other handgun.
"You know, when I said that I wanted to be manhandled by you, this isn't what I imagined." You comment.
Leon shakes his head, chuckling. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for that. Come on, let's get out of here." Leon gestures for you to follow him as he walks towards the door where the rotting corpse—Timothy's final meal—is lying.
You stare at Leon, mouth agape. What does he mean by that?! Wait, Leon is probably implying other boss fights that are waiting for both you and Leon. You really need to get your head out of the gutter. You follow behind Leon, shuddering when you step in the pool of blood that was once Timothy.
Leon grabs the hand grenade from the puddle of blood and continues walking to the exit. Finally, you and Leon will get to leave this place and face more horrors waiting for both of you. Leon unlatches the door and pushes it open, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure you're still following him.
You and Leon come across a wooden closet with a warped door. Leon walks to it, grabs his hatchet, lodges it between the doors, and starts prying them open. You bite your bottom lip, watching his biceps flex as he tries to open it. Once the door bursts open and Leon grabs whatever is inside, you look away, trying to act like you weren't drooling over him.
"Ready to go?" Leon asks, turning to you as he puts the mod on his handgun.
You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah! Are you ready to go?" You ask, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
"Of course, I am. I'm always ready." Leon says softly, walking past you while gently nudging you to follow him by patting your lower back.
You bite the inside of your cheek, screaming internally. You really need to get yourself together because you're acting like a cat in heat. Leon pushes the red button, and the attic opens; the metal ladder slides down, and Leon starts climbing down.
Once Leon gets off the ladder, you start climbing down, shuddering when you see the amount of blood in the office. The whole time while you're climbing down the ladder, Leon's keeping an eye out while holding out his hands to catch you just in case you slip. You step into the puddle of infected blood, groaning with disgust.
"You'd get used to it," Leon says. "Come on, we need to find Victor Gideon's office."
You follow Leon out of the Chairman's office, on edge about whether zombies are roaming around or not. You don't think there's any zombies roaming around cause you killed most of them when you were playing as Grace. You come across another warped closet outside of the Chairman's office, and you sit back and watch Leon do his thing.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Leon asks, turning to you after taking the handgun ammo and shotgun shells.
You look at Leon, flabbergasted. "Wha—is a lady not allowed to admire a total eye candy in front of her?" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "I have had enough of your teasing! Let's find Victor's office." You stick your nose in the air and walk towards the bar and lounge room.
Leon pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling. "You truly do make this more entertaining than it should be."
The minute you walk into the bar and lounge room, a zombie in a white button-up starts contorting violently while screaming in agony. You walk backwards frantically, bumping into Leon as the zombie gets off the ground and his head morphs into something more horrifying.
"This place is infested," Leon mutters, shaking his head, and aims his gun at the blister head that's running towards both of you. Leon shoots, and the bullet penetrates the zombie's head, causing it to burst, and blood spews everywhere like a water fountain.
You sigh, turning to Leon. "Can you teach me how to shoot one day? You know, in case I have to fight for both of us."
Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course. I can show you when we come across another zombie."
You and Leon continue searching for Victor's office. Instead of having you walk behind or in front of him, Leon makes sure you're by his side at all times because you'd never know when a zombie will sneak up from behind or jump out of nowhere.
As you're both walking up the stairs to the third floor of the sanatorium, you and Leon hear a faint beeping and gurgling from a zombie. Leon hands you his handgun and gestures for you to follow him quietly. Once the zombie is in your and Leon's line of sight, Leon quickly adjusts the gun in your hand, angling your arms a certain way.
"Make sure to have a firm grasp on the gun so it doesn't recoil and hit you in the face," Leon murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back. "Okay, now, you can either shoot the zombie or the red propane tank. I would go for the explosive canister because it's quicker, and who knows how many shots it'll take to kill the zombie."
Taking Leon's advice, you point the handgun towards the red gas tank and shoot. The red canister in the zombie's hand explodes, taking the zombie out with it. You tilt your head up and see Leon's smile as you lower the gun.
Leon pats your shoulders, "Not bad."
"But not good either." You pout dramatically. "Okay, let's go kick Victor Gideon's ass, Leon!" You grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs to another warped door—much to your delight.
Leon shakes his head as he pulls out his hatchet and starts prying the doors open. Once Leon successfully opens the door, you and Leon enter the room and look around to see many bodies with no heads. You immediately latch yourself against Leon, trembling as Leon picks up the paper on the ground.
"Burst their heads if you want to survive."
On cue, you and Leon hear the familiar screams of agony close to the entrance where you and Leon came. This is not what you expected when you got isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. Leon shields you from the blister head and starts shooting the head over and over until the zombie finally dies. He leads to the corner of the room where the other zombie lies and takes the shotgun shells and handgun ammo from the vase.
"Do you trust me?" Leon asks, loading his shotgun and handgun.
You nod. "Of course, I do." You answer.
"Good, cause you're going to need to trust me on this." Leon leans down and tosses you over his shoulders just when another blister head bursts through the door to the meeting room.
You squeeze your eyes shut and cling to Leon's torso as he shoots the blister heads and storms the meeting room, where another blister head is getting ready to charge at Leon. This is going to be a long night, and the worst thing is that you're not even sure if you'll return to your world after all this.
Note: I love how in almost every Leon fics I've typed out, I would be kicking my feet and twirling my hair cause I'm having the time of my life typing Leon fics. I completed insanity mode for RE9, and I feel like I've been through hell and back; I finished that game one minute faster than the standard classic mode, somehow. Every time I write a new Leon fic, I replay RE9 because I miss Leon and want to see him tied up. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!
Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows? You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like, as a way to show support! ^^
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synopsis; when packing up old memories, you should never take a stroll down memory lane. It’s a shame neither you nor Leon got that memo. On the off-chance Leon had gotten it, he isn’t too keen on listening to it.
cw; MDNI. smut, angst, divorce, p-in-v, cowgirl position, outdoor sex.
"Is that everything?"
"Think so." Leon grunts, sweat beads above his brow. He wipes it away with the back of his hand and cleans himself on his shirt. Electricity was cut last week, so no AC today. The house never had good ventilation either; no mold nor mildew, the air just tended to stagnate.
It's curious how one's entire life could be packaged away so neatly at the drop of a hat. Folded and compartmentalized, years worth of memories stuffed in boxes labeled 'kitchen', 'bedroom' ‘decor’ and so on and so forth.
If it weren’t necessary, you’d apologize for making him do all this in the middle of blistering summer. You would’ve done it all yourself and sent him an invoice if you hadn’t gotten so busy yourself. Leon himself didn’t bother to do it because he never bothered to do anything without you telling him to do it first.
Complacency is the devil.
The killer of all things good, sunk its teeth right through Leon’s carotid and dragged him off some years ago, it seems. You lean against the kitchen island and silently take in how barren your home suddenly is now.
The pictures were the first things that went. Not that there were many of them to begin with, only a select few handpicked by Leon himself because he always looked like he was constipated in any you took — fishing trips with Chris, one trip to Italy Spring of 08’, a few from D.S.O. holiday parties, and some from end of year ceremonies when he was in between having too dark hair to be considered blonde and hair too light for it to be brown.
It’s surreal coming to terms that in a week this place’ll be someone else's problem. A new family will settle in and all traces of your marriage will be completely overwritten. They’ll argue over what color to paint everything over and start fresh. The sage green you’d painstakingly picked out with Leon would get replaced with something beige, or worse. Grey.
God, isn’t that a dreadful thought.
But, that’s the point of all this, you suppose. A full, fresh reset. If they want to paint over the ghosts of your marriage and turn over a new leaf, they can, they paid for the place after all. Hopefully they get around to fixing the creaks in the staircase or the leaky sink. Lord knows Leon was never going to get around to it.
You open your mouth to speak. "You talked to the realtor? Everything's squared away?"
Despite being in the email thread, you still ask. The answer is a confident 'yes', it's just hard to fill in the blanks where laughter and easy breezy conversation is supposed to be.
How do you even make conversation in this sort of scenario? Are you supposed to throw a blanket over the elephant in the room and ask him how’s it going? Pretend it isn’t there and talk about work? (Last you knew he was griping about having to take a rookie under his wing again. How long ago was that?)
Ah. It’s a little too late anyways, the boxes are piled high beside the door, tomorrow they’ll come get the last of it and it’ll be on its way to storage til’ you both get your own places and move forward. Leon hasn’t gotten his own apartment yet, neither have you. Chris’s bachelor pad has gotten a little more sadder.
“I don’t know, she didn’t call to confirm.” Leon starts, then grumbles beneath his breath. “Let me check...”
He pops his hip against the island and reaches into his pocket. You frown. Didn’t he reply first? You could’ve sworn he had. You don’t call him out on his ‘bad memory’. Instead you settle in and watch his fingertips dance across the screen, let him pretend neither of you are on edge and painfully aware of the other.
You can't help but notice the pattern is the same. It’s those little things that become engrained enough for you to realize he hasn't changed his password yet, a string of numericals spell out your anniversary.
You’d click your tongue and tease him for still having it set to something so sappy, something holds your tongue, dries it up and scatters the ashes elsewhere, the words ‘Seriously? You’re so corny,’ unwilling to form.
You like to think he’ll change it after you’re gone, replace it with some other important date or nonsense and let the wound heal over. Yeah right. You roll your eyes at that. If you know anything about Leon, it’s that even if something wasn’t to have been his fault; he’d still lose sleep over it regardless. You must’ve exacerbated it by insisting it wasn’t.
Is there even a chance he’d change that after you’re gone?
You really can’t imagine a world where Leon would ever be the type to turn a new leaf and let the wound scab over, he’s always been the sort to pick and prod and keep it fresh and raw. Pour salt and a splash of lemon juice in it every once in a while wondering about the what could’ve beens and the what ifs.
“You find it yet?” You prod, his finger gets to swiping again.
“Still looking.” Leon grunts. You have half a mind to pull your own phone out and call his bluff, you’d find it in mere seconds. Leon’s got his lip jutting out and his brow pulled tighter than usual. He’s thinking.
About what?
Is he just trying to come up with something to talk about too before parting ways? That’s sweet, in a real sad, prolonging-the-inevitable way.
And also probably just you projecting.
Whatever, you’ll play along for now, let him have this. You’ll find something else to do while he turns questions over in his head and no doubt, handpicks the best joke to lighten the mood.
Inevitably, your eyes wander. You can’t help but note Leon looks as if he’s aged another decade this past year, oddly enough. You don’t mean it in a bad way, he looks good. More than good.
It’d be silly to say he looked anything less because of his age; you aren’t young either anymore, your roots show just as much as his do. Greys pop in faster year after year, but that doesn’t make you any less attractive. No, a mature woman is a well seasoned one, there’s an appeal to that.
The same applies to a mature man.
Leon’s greys stand out like little grains of rye amidst wheat. You remember when he’d first noticed them, they looked like platinum highlights then, not so much now. He’d freaked out, ran his hands through his hair and sat on the couch for a good long while, worried himself to death that he’d be slowing down soon. He’d been thirty seven then.
What did it matter if he wasn’t that young agent anymore? An older man is still a functional one, for the most part. If you ignore the wrinkles and looked shoulders down, you’d almost forget a man like him has real bad back problems.
Leon’s always managed to look leagues better than most men his age, he still has a waist anyone would understandably envy. His biceps have real muscle coiled through them, earned through hearty meals and rigorous exercise — no steroids or supplements here.
Your eyes dip from his pinched brow, down the slope of his nose and towards the main attraction. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms, veins pressing firmly against skin, no extra skin to sag and leave him soft.
Leon’s handsome, always has been. Makes you wonder what he saw in you to stay all these years.
There isn’t necessarily anything special about you, as lame as it is to accept and admit. Back then you'd felt like you’d been shoved into the deep end of the pool and left to drown when you’d stumbled onto the dating scene, a doe caught in sights.
Leon had to have had other options, anyone with eyes could come to that conclusion. It always gnawed on your nerves, that thought; he could’ve had anyone else, someone with more experience, more confidence, more everything in whatever department you lacked in.
But he stayed with you. Through all the bumps, Leon patiently held your hand, kissed your worries away, and promised he’d be there tomorrow. You guessed it was easy for him to be there when your flaws were considerably smaller in comparison to his.
Your eyes flit up to his face again, they trace the moles and beauty marks, one hidden against his adam's apple, another beside his nose, the rest are scattered across his body. Your eyes linger on his jaw. It’s hard to ignore he’s let his stubble get a bit scruffy, salt and pepper dotting above his lips and below.
Leon never let it stay for that long because it never came in evenly. It was his biggest gripe. He’d run his hand along his chin and complain underneath his breath every other morning. If you could chalk it up to a change in style, that he’d suddenly decided to let it go rogue, you would.
But you know he’s the type to stick with what works.
He cared more about maintaining it with you around, it seems. You look away before he could notice you’re staring, focus all your attention on the marble counter top.
God you hate yourself. You hate him, you hate this house, you hate everything that has to do with the ugly thoughts that led you to settle on divorce.
If you could disappear into the walls, tuck yourself behind drywall and become some ghost story, — ‘…didn’t Leon used to have a wife…?’ ‘Yeah, but they got her.’ sort of deal — you would. He’s used to loss and grief, it would’ve been a much easier pill to swallow if you’d been lost. It would’ve been better for your love story to end with an em dash.
But you’re alive, and you’re here, and the papers will be signed come Monday.
Your cheek finds its place against the palm of your hand. You’re certain Leon’s bullshitting you about looking for that confirmation email. It’s been three minutes of this tense god forsaken silence.
The grey clouds outside are suddenly more interesting than thinking about or looking at Leon, Leon, Leon.
Outside, summer rain showers bring the promise of thunderstorms, muddy roads, petrichor and puddles. There was a time where you loved the rain, before Leon. (There he is again, he waltzes around in your head and you wish he’d trip.)
You’d open your windows and let the sound lull you to sleep, then get annoyed when a puddle would form on the floor or on the window sill. A few drops splatter against the window pane, the first to trail down like tears.
After Leon, you couldn’t find too much beauty in it, not when you’d wake and find him wide eyed, staring at the ceiling. He never did like stormy nights, you always found him staring up at nothing in the middle of the night, stuck in some trancelike state you had to navigate carefully lest you step on a landmine.
You find yourself hoping Leon’ll be alright tonight. He never did tell you why he was so clammy, always had something to do with work and you got it, you did. You just hope he doesn’t take to the bottle again.
On the other hand, you still find it difficult to sleep without having him next to you. A mountain of pillows makes for a poor substitute, can’t replicate his warmth or the sound of his breathing whenever he would manage to fall asleep before you did.
You shift and let hands your clasp together against marble, forehead pressed against them in mock prayer. What does he really think about all this? Like really think. Not the stuff he’d said to try and make this seem amicable and mutual.
Is he as nervous as you are? Does he even want to make small talk? Is he just waiting for you to bring the axe down again?
‘Hey, I gotta go, actually. Thanks for the years and whatever, bye.’ You’d love to kiss the barrel right about now if he really is just waiting for you to initiate the goodbye sequence and you’ve just been standing here waiting this whole time, deluding yourself.
You want to laugh. Small talk. That’s what you’ve both been reduced to. The last hour you had both been so focused on clearing out what was left of the place there was no real time to try and play house again. He’d give you that awkward stare if you tried to ask him what he thought about the weather lately.
God, what if he hated you?
"Mhm." Leon finally grunts and breaks you out of your reverie, pulls you out the downward spiral before it can drag you under. "Everything’s good. The attorneys are settling the split." He slips his phone back into his pocket and turns, taps his fingers idly against the marble.
You lift your head up, your smile tight and out of place. “That’s good,” You sigh and rest your chin in the palm of your hand again as you settle into a ‘relaxed’ posture. “I’m glad it sold for more. Would’ve been a scam if it didn’t.”
Leon opens his mouth to say something, all that comes out is a quiet ‘amused’ scoff before his eyes go downcast in thought. Conversation was never this hard to make with you. Its weird how suddenly you two became estranged. You shared meals, a bed, a home and last names for years, yet somehow it feels like he doesn't know you at all anymore.
It feels wrong.
Ending things was never his forte, should he just say goodbye, shake your hand and call it a day? Things would be easier that way, it'd be a cleaner, neater, less awkward cut than whatever this was quickly becoming.
And there it is again. The silence. You run your tongue across your teeth and bite back your sigh. God you hate him.
It's funny to think there was a time where you could just skip town, stop answering calls and travel around. Just drift from coastal city to coastal city, wind in your hair, sun on your skin. But you can’t really ghost your ex-husband now can you? Not when you’re this close to the finish line.
Maybe in the future you’ll consider it, punishment for some guy who won’t understand signals of disinterest, if you even decide to date after Leon.
Leon opens the door for escape, "You need a ride or..."
“No!” You scramble to pull your own phone out, “No, I got um. I got one…I’m staying with Val, she actually dropped me off so…I’ll just call…” You trail off and start typing out your; ‘Hey girl! Everything’s packed up :) Save me from this please?’ message.
“Val?” Leon drawls the name out like it’s unfamiliar, your friend group is a variable he never considered much, a bunch of girls he’d heard about a handful of times and saw very little of towards the end.
Your friends never really came around to begin with, living cities apart tends to put that sort of strain when it comes to keeping close. And if they did come around he was always off somewhere else, saving the world and wondering if you’d had dinner midway through.
“Yeah, Val. You met her.” You clarify, brows drawing together in confusion. “At our wedding, she was a bridesmaid? The red head?”
Leon contemplates this. It’s not that he didn’t remember your wedding and who all was there, it’s that all he really remembers from that day is you, you can’t fault him for that. 2007 was a long, long time ago and the world nearly ended a handful of times in between the years.
…Lanshiang, New York, Alcatraz — to name a few. Forgive him for not memorizing the bridal party.
Then, it clicks. He remembers a Valerie, though he’s not sure if it’s this Val. How could he get it wrong? How many red heads go by Val anyways?
He nods and snaps his fingers, stuttering on a hum. “She uh, she’s the girl who fell during...” He trails off and scratches the nape of his neck.
You finish the sentence for him. “Her heel snapped before the photos.” You snort. There we go, it did ring a bell.
“Right. Her.” He leans against the island too, mirrors you and glances towards the front door as if she’d walk right in and haul you away by your forearm, save you from this situation and that’ll be that.
“Is she on her way?”
You glance down at your phone and feel your heart sink. “She’s forty something out…” You mutter and offer him a small awkward smile. Leon’s brows furrow again. “She lives on the other side of town.” You tack on and wave your own set of keys at him.
“You can go, I know you have that thing with Chris, right? I can lock up.”
The thing with Chris. You say it as if it’s a super important event and not the two of them drinking themselves numb in the corner of some poorly lit dingy sports bar. He loved that about you, always managing to find some way to make things sound better than what they were.
He’ll miss that. He’ll miss a lot of things, actually.
“I can wait.” He shrugs. “Chris isn’t doing much today. He’s..”
“…still on bed rest.”
“…still healing from his last mission?
You both finish the sentence at the same time. Different variations but the same conclusion at the end of the day; Chris’s arm is fucked.
Leon snorts, a small smile makes its way onto his face. “How’d you know?”
“Claire.” You smile back.
That’s another thing. Your lives were so intertwined it’s gonna be hard to ignore you’re gone next time they all go out for drinks. It already is.
“So forty minutes?”
“I guess.”
— x-x-x-x-x-x —
Somehow, you both end up in the garden. It’s easier to sit in silence when you’ve got the rumbling of thunder and the chirping of frantic birds to fill it for you. The only place where you can comfortably sit on is the bench bolted down to the gazebo in the backyard anyways.
The movers took the couch weeks ago, the staircase grew to be bad for Leon’s back after five minutes. At any rate, you’re sure a nail would come through if you sat on it for long.
There’s a respectable distance between you two where you’re perched, not enough room for Jesus, but it’s certainly there. Soft purple passionflower, fruity and fragrant, trails down the column beside you, its vines searching blindly for something to cling to.
You steal a glance at Leon. He’s sat with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head tipped back, adam’s apple protruding like he’s got something stuck in his throat, his eyes are closed, seemingly content to take a load off and soak in the sounds.
You settle in too, not as comfortably as he has, but enough to let out whatever tensions left over. You’ll miss this place.
The garden always was your favorite, Leon had the gazebo installed year five as an anniversary gift, one peek at the board of magazine clippings you kept was all it took for him to hire contractors and plan it out. You’d bought flower bulbs in bulk just so you had something to do while he painted it white.
Come spring it always brought in all sorts of bugs and pollinators — mourning cloaks, and sootywings on overcast days, monarchs and swallowtails if the sun was bright enough. You wonder if the next family will tear it down in favor of a pool or something. A playground for the children you and Leon never got around to having or if they’d install one of those little playgrounds like the neighbors had.
Absent-mindedly, you bring up a random memory that pops up in your head. “You remember when the neighbors built that privacy fence and put that big ass camera up?”
Leon snorts, he pries his eyes open and stares at nothing in particular. “That guy was a nut job.” Leon mutters.
You laugh and shift in your seat, conversation rumbles to life, purring contentedly. “We always had shitty neighbors.” You hum, dipping further in. It’s easy to talk about the past. “Remember back when we lived in those shady apartments?”
It takes Leon a while, but it dawns on him eventually. He only lived in two apartment complexes with you, the last one was nice and isolated, notably. The unit across was empty the two years you both stayed there — something about it being the landlord's show unit.
That leaves the other option, and those apartments make way more sense. The apartments he used to live in near the DSO, back when he actually valued being on time and you two had just started dating. Living there was fine for him; it wasn't until you moved in that he realized he had to get you both out of there. Being near a government building doesn’t necessarily guarantee the people’ll be model citizens.
“Yeah. Yeah I do.” He grunts. “The guy who always thought we were stealing his packages. Asshole tried breaking in didn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” It sounds ugly when he puts it like that. “He was just…on something.”
Leon rolls his eyes and stares at you deadpan. ‘On something.’ It doesn’t exactly give a man permission to bust down a door over what ended up being a package that got held by customs. That’s another thing, you always downplayed things. It’s a huge part of why he can’t believe you when you say it’s not his fault.
He’s known you for years and still can’t find a real deal-breaking fault, but he can pinpoint all of his. So how is he supposed to think that somehow you’re the reason this didn’t work?
“Right.” he drags it out, making it clear he doesn’t believe you. He wasn’t home for it, so all he ever had to go off of was the frantic phone call you’d made. That guy was on something, though. Had to be. “I should’ve just moved into your place.”
You quirk a brow. Your place?
Your apartment before him was less of a home and more of a shoebox, it had the basics but that was it. One bedroom that instantly transitioned into kitchen, dining room and entryway. If the neighbors smoked, you smelled it.
You huff. “My place wasn’t any better.”
At least Leon’s had a hallway. And it was near a park you’d both frequented when he wasn’t too tired after work. Dumbarton Oaks with its fields of peonies, tulips and draping wisteria.
You don’t think you can ever go back to it without thinking about Leon, he’s cursed to haunt the grounds with you forever, your hand in his, his eyes on you.
Your lips curl slightly at the edges. He loved that place in the spring too. You turn your head to face him a little better. “Do you remember—“
“Sorry I never got you that dog.” Leon says out of the blue.
Whatever you’d wanted to drudge up slinks back into sludge. It gets a little reaction out of you though, the words die in your throat. Your expression is a mix of bewilderment and amusement - brows twitching, lips pursing. Why does that matter now?
It’s a cliche, the pet every couple gets and then has to coparent. You forgot all about that, he’s dusted those memories off and buffed them out. The late night conversations that came whenever you’d bring it up come roaring to the forefront, the ones that always ended up turning into plans for the future.
At the time, you’d shown him some big, dumb looking chocolate lab with its tongue lolled out and its head cocked to the side, of course he said no. It was too big a dog.
‘We should get a dog, there’s this shelter nearby that...’
‘…No, we don’t even have room for a dog that big…‘
‘…we can only get a dog if our kid asks for one? That’s not fair, that’s so far away!’
‘Sounds fair to me, princess. A dogs a big responsibility…’
‘Yeah, I know. I had three, but what if…’
But that was then. This is now. A dog really would’ve been nice, it would’ve made the house feel a little less lonely, Leon wouldn’t have had to install so many cameras if you had gotten a big dog like you wanted but…
“Sorry, what were you gonna say?”
You wave the memories away, tuck them back into whatever box they tumbled out of. “No it’s fine,” You tuck one leg up onto the bench and wrap your arms around it.
“I know you were like, scared of them.”
Leon scoffs, “I wasn’t scared of dogs.” It sounds absurd. It sounds weak when you put it like that out loud. Leon. The D.S.O. 's legendary and longest standing agent. Leon.
Leon S. Kennedy. Afraid of dogs.
“You’re not?”
“No, it’s just,” he pauses, and you wish you’d just let it go.
There’s a story there he never told you. You wish you couldn’t read him so well either, but his eyes tighten around the corners and give him away, he never could look you straight in the eye when he was hiding something or lying.
“Does it really matter now?” He settles for that, doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, but he does.
There’s a lot of things Leon never told you about nor explained; the keychain, the nightmares, why he’d been so exhausted as of late, and why he’d pulled away and why he’d been disappearing, — another thing you had to forgive, your lawyer would’ve hounded him in court if you hadn’t. — everything is on a need to know basis, and you technically, don’t need to know.
There’s no point in badgering him in attempts to get him to spill his guts. These things really do just…not matter anymore, if you couldn’t get him to be honest while married or at least extend a sliver of an olive branch, then what’s the point in trying to do it now?
They can remain as he’d like them; mystery’s, left abandoned to collect dust alongside the memories.
You try for something light hearted, your smile is soft at the edges, understanding as much as it could be. “It’s fine to be afraid of dogs.” You tease and roll your eyes, nudge his shoulder with yours. “I would’ve been fine with a cat. Or a little dachshund, we didn’t have to get a lab.”
Leon rolls his eyes and leans away from you, slumps into his corner of the bench. It isn’t odd for him to do this, now that he’s got a grip on himself he does this when he’s found himself needled. Instead of reaching for the bottle, he shuts the doors and searches for some sort of reprieve, walks circles in that head of his and still lets the concept of ‘talking things out’ go forgotten.
Ah, you’ve walked yourself into a trap. Your smile falters, and just like that, the easy going atmosphere dissipates like a drop of water in a hot pan.
Was it something you said? (Of course it was.) Or was it something you hadn’t? Did he want an apology? Some sort of understanding? Maybe you should’ve brushed it off, said ‘No, I really really didn’t want a dog anyways, let’s talk about the park please.’ and steered the course back to safer waters.
It doesn’t matter, you repeat. It really doesn’t. You’re stuck in a loop of apathy, dancing to a tune you don’t quite recognize and can’t turn off. The pitter patter of rain softens its sharp edges, though it doesn’t completely erase the need to fill it with something light hearted.
You glance down at the tan line on your ring finger. It’ll take a while to go away, a lighter shade to remind you of what once was until you slip on another. Though you doubt you’ll remarry. Your eyes find Leon again, you wish it was easy to get lost in your thoughts and forget he’s here, let the minutes pass in relative peace; it’s harder to ignore the fact he’s still got his ring on.
You curl your fist and pray he hasn’t noticed yours is missing, it’s tucked away in velvet, left on your vanity to lose its sparkle. The guilt settles heavy in your heart, a snake creeping through the grass that makes you think twice; why does he still have it on? Was it too early to take it off?
There must be some sort of guideline to divorce etiquette you’re missing.
Was there a vital bullet point tucked in one of the blog posts you skimmed through that you actually needed to read? ‘The Do’s and Dont’s of divorce; don’t take your ring off until months after your divorce is settled, it looks bad if you do.’ or some other quirky point written by some ‘journalist’.
The answer to why he has his on is simple, why kid yourself? Leon didn’t want this, there’s no room for miscommunication there. No oh, well, maybe he knew it was dead and didn’t want to pull the plug first, no chance of saying it was mutual even if it might be amicable.
He took so long to sign the papers, dragged his feet and had his lawyer plead for separation first instead under the guise of managing assets and other legal jargon neither of you ever thought you'd have to care for.
You know he was hoping you’d change your mind, that therapy would’ve made you have a come to Jesus moment and rescind your demand. Unfortunately for him, it hadn’t. And at the altar when he’d said forever and always; he’d meant it, every single word.
Then, his hair had been shades brighter and a little shorter, his eyes less crinkled at the edges, his suit and tie impossibly starched and a cold sweat had settled at the nape of his neck, he’d stopped wiping it away lest other people notice.
It was funny to look back on, Mr. Suave rendered down to a fidgeting groom the second the organ began. Every nerve had lit itself on fire the moment you’d walked down the aisle to meet him at the finish line.
At what moment in time had the spark fizzled? What had he missed? (Besides birthdays, trips you’d started to organize alone - no longer clinging to hoping he’d get the days off, and date nights.)
Suddenly the world’s been turned over on its head and he’s meant to forget all about you and all the things you like. Life is supposed to go on and he’s supposed to let the feeling of your hand in his become a distant memory; you’ll be preserved in an imperfect film, the exact moment you fell out of love burned away in the negatives.
One thing resurfaces, however, was this why?
“You think we waited too long to have kids?” Leon asks with the subtlety of breaking glass. Was it then? Had he waited too long? You never gave him a clear answer the night you’d asked for divorce, he can’t help but want to peel it all back and get some clarity.
Would you have stayed if he had gotten you pregnant? The question buzzes around in Leon’s head violently, he’s poked a hornets nest, the poison sinks into his system because the answers yes, isn’t it?
You stiffen visibly, the spotlight is rather harsh. Your heart stutters and comes to a stop in your chest. You hate this line of questioning, everything in your body’s gotten the jitters. So it seems he remembers those conversations too. The topic always came up, in conversation with friends, after grocery trips, in the comfortable silence that followed after dinner.
The house always felt like something was missing. A dog, a cat, a damned parrot. Something that made noise. Something that breathed life into this house. Anything so long as it wasn’t just you and the late night news.
Those two little babies always manifest and never go away when you think about them too hard. The pitter patter of little feet running up the stairs. A boy with that cute little dimple in his chin. A girl with moles scattered around like ink droplets.
What traits or physical attributes would they have gotten from you? Would they have been all Leon in the face or would hints of you be there too? You would’ve torn the gazebo out for them too if they wanted a pool. But, you have to let them go.
You know now the solution would’ve never been children, they would’ve simply been just that; another thing that would’ve filled the silence that came after he was gone.
The only semi-truthful answer you can find comes out naturally. “I…I don’t know.” You glance at him from the corner of your eye. Leon’s jaw is shut tight, molars working against themselves to death.
You’ve come to terms with that, it’s too late to have any of your own either way. No choice but to march on with time. You don’t resent him for wasting your youth, Leon couldn’t ever change the fact he was a man who would’ve never really been home, you knew that when you married him.
You just thought that something would’ve changed down the time. Maybe things would've been different.
That’s on you isn’t it?
“Did you really want kids?” You don’t shy away from asking. Dreaming out loud with Leon was your favorite pastime.
Leon rubs his hand against the scruff on his chin, manages to grit out, “Always wanted a girl.” He risks it, meets your gaze head on. “Would’ve looked like you.”
Your eyes widened slightly, thrown off guard. “Still?”
You figured he would’ve changed his mind and wanted a boy like every other guy seemed to want, could’ve raised him up to be like himself. Named him Leon Jr or something dorky. Just not Scott. You wouldn’t have let him name your son something that dorky. Leon can let that die with him.
“Yeah.” Leon smiles, it brightens the storm clouds around him, it's infectious, you feel your own lips itching to match his mood. He’d have been a good girl dad, he’s got some experience, after all.
“Yeah?” You reach out and shove him lightly, a real smile tugging on your lips. “You would’ve annoyed the hell out of her.” For the first time since you’ve started this whole process, Leon chuckles. The sound is low and rich though carrying a weight he lets out in the sigh that follows.
“You annoyed the hell out of me.” You murmur in jest, it’s lighthearted, he knows. “But she would’ve loved you for it, I loved you for it.” You rest your cheek against the top of your knee and trace the lines on his face, he’s still as handsome as the day you met him, you don’t even notice what you’re starting to say.
“Still do.”
Leon stares back, his eyes have widened a bit but that all doesn’t matter much now. He’s still your tired Leon with his sad blue eyes, worry lines etched in his forehead. With his greys poking out through the blonde — if it could even be considered that anymore, it’s as brown as ale now, aged just like that. — that frames his face. He barely even has smile lines but he musters another big one up for you, accentuates them.
“Yeah?” He rumbles lowly.
You don’t retract it. “Yeah.”
Time itself seems to come at a standstill, everything else blurs. And suddenly, it’s the first summer you both spent out in the countryside after he came back from Spain, and it’s beginning to feel like you never uttered ‘I think this just isn’t working anymore.’ to him.
It rained then too. You could almost pretend that’s where you’re at again, out in the middle of nowhere skinny dipping like brain dead teens in horror flicks, he’d questioned how smart the idea was yet still followed you into the lake muttering warnings to ward off ‘big ass fishes’.
Leon shifts in his seat, turns his body towards you subtly. This is a bad idea. You swallow the thought, Don’t, don’t.. your heart races in your ears and drowns out any reason.
You shouldn’t play with his feelings. Your gaze is pulled downward to settle on his lips, dusky pink and still plush. Don’t. You remember when he’d stopped shaving, somewhere in between 2014 and 2015, you used to hate the beard burn then, you wouldn’t mind feeling it again now.
“I’m sorry, I…” You mutter, “I..I shouldn’t have…”
Leon’s eyes flick down just a fraction too. He always did like the slow burn, you’d play coy and dance around what you wanted, and it’s killing him to know all he’ll have after this is memories that’ll slip through his hands like sand.
The fractures start to show, eyes lingering a second too long for people who are supposed to be moving on after this. The distance between you two became negligible somewhere along the lines enough for them to have long dissolved.
You both move at the same time, all coordination goes forgotten when you come to connect, his nose knocks against yours before your lips finally meet again after having spent half a year apart. Your other hand latches onto the front of his shirt, his finds the curve of your cheek, the jigsaws always fall into place.
Your tongue rolls over and against his, the scant space when lips part is filled with shared breaths and desperate pants, the rains pouring down eagerly now, splashing off the gazebos railing and splattering against the stone, but none of that matters now, not when he’s hauling you onto his lap by your hips like old times.
Your hand reaches out to tangle in his hair as you shift and crowd him against the benches corner, Leon’s hand grips your waist, adjusting your thighs to bracket his.
“Right here?” He cracks one eye open. Yours are screwed shut.
“Mhm.” You pant, your breath is hot against his lips, his teeth clack against yours. “Please.”
That sweet little ‘please’ does all the work for you, his blood rushes southbound all in one millisecond, they left one blood cell in charge upstairs and that one too is screaming ‘go! go! go!’.
Leon keeps you firmly on his lap, one hand rests against the small of your back while the other scrambles down south, working his fly open just enough for future ease. Your lips meet his time and time again, it’s nice to kiss him when he doesn’t taste like whiskey, even better after being deprived of him for so long, you’ll ignore that it’s self inflicted.
His tongue licks into your mouth softly, swipes against yours with a sigh of relief. How long has he been thinking of doing this again? Too long. It’s hard to kill his attraction for you, it isn’t some switch he can just turn off.
You’re it for him, you always were and always will be. It doesn’t matter if he’s gotta sit parallel to you and sign his name on a line come Monday, if it makes you happy. He’ll do it. But right now he can be a little selfish, can’t he?
“This is a bad idea.” You hiss, a reminder to you both, his hand still works its way up your ass, hiking your pencil skirt up enough to expose a whisper of lace.
“I know.” Leon murmurs against your lips, swallows down whimpers and gasps alike. “Just once. ‘s all it has to be.”
Liar, liar, liar, liar—
You cling onto that just once and guide his hands. He’s right. It’s all it has to be. Just one teensy mistake.
You nod dumbly, helping him shove your panties aside, his fingers prod along your slit clumsily, that sharp intake when he dips them between flesh makes you feel slightly self conscious, you’re wet, unmistakably so. He parts your folds with a quiet click and all your worries melt away the second he finds your clit, rubs it softly with his index and makes you stutter out a sweet little moan.
“You needed this, huh?” Leon huffs, it’s easy to fall into line, he hasn’t forgotten this dance just yet, his fingers circle and your clit, “Didn’t mean to let it get this bad.”
Your eyes flutter shut before opening again to watch his face. Leon presses his forehead against yours and closes his own. Two slip in down to the knuckle and out to the tip, rhythmically pumping into your entrance playfully, enough to stimulate, not enough to please.
He did let it get this bad, what with him being gone all the time and leaving you with nothing but a bunch of plastic to fill in the gaps, how gracious of him to finally make it up to you. But you won’t leave him hanging, even if you should.
“Let me help,” You sighed, “please?”
There it is again, that magic word. He never could say no to you, didn’t help he never wanted to in the first place. Leon shifts slightly, tips his hips up and lets you do all the work, it’s hard to focus on anything else but the warmth radiating from between your legs.
Your hand slipped in between you both to find his length, through the fabric of his briefs he’s warm but noticeably, soft. Half-hard, if you were generous, nearly flaccid if you weren’t, it would’ve been a bit of a blow to your ego if the problem was you there. But it wasn’t. Your hand still slips into that weird little gap in his briefs, it was for easy access you assumed.
It was him, age does these things after all, nothing to be ashamed about, though you know he is, in fact, ashamed. You can count on your hands how many times you’ve seen him get pouty when you’d recommend that little blue pill.
“Still having problems?” You murmur against his lips, languidly stroking him to life, thumb rubbing the vein along the side, slipping up to tug the skin encasing his frenulum down, worrying the edge of his cock head til it starts to weep pearly beads of pre-cum.
“Don’t put it like that.” Leon groaned, pushing his cock further into the cradle of your hand, rubbing his fingers through your folds a little harder before lightly smacking them against your pussy for punishment, you jolt and squeeze a little too hard. “Still working, isn't it?”
Now it is. You rut against his fingertips for more, press a kiss to the tip of his nose and smoosh your forehead against his. “Yeah.” You glance down in between you both, watching your hands work in tandem, his stuffed between your thighs, yours working over his lap.
Leon’s cock stiffens up to attention, all his blood going right where it needs to be, thickened up and engorged as much as it could possibly go, your thumb drags a few more beads down to slicken him up, palm twisting to work him not over, but nearly.
Your eyes squeeze shut, your strokes lose their rhythm, blurring faster than you intended, you could never lie that when it comes to this, Leon knows you as well as you know him, maybe even more so, he’d turned you into his own pull apart - put back together attraction over the span of a decade or two and somehow never managed to get bored.
Always found something new to fixate over, a new place to bite, another to nip and suckle at. If you were in your bedroom, he’d have you belly down, ass up for the next hour or with his arm coiled around your neck, but, alas. From here on out, you could only dream.
A choked whine leaves your lips, the slick that’s collected on his fingers makes for easy traction, his fingers work in earnest, two spread your entrance open, scissoring before twisting in deeper. Leon feels the exact moment the pads of his digits start to bully your sweet spot, your cunt clings to him and your whimpers scream: Right there, there, there, there—
But, he stops and pulls out abruptly. Your pussy clenches strongly around nothing, a protest of its own that leaves you chasing the feeling you’re being suddenly denied of, humping the air and wondering where his fingers went. It isn’t long until you figure it out.
You let go of his cock when you feel him take over for you, gripping at the base and effectively relieving you of duty.
“You ready?” His other hand cups the bottom of your ass cheek and tugs it aside, spreading you open and lining himself up clumsily. The tip of his cock nudges against your opening and notches itself to land. You bite the tip of your tongue and fight the urge to impale yourself with him.
“C’mon, yes or no.” Your eyes flick up to Leon’s face. He’s so smug. Staring up at you with that little gleam in his eyes and an easy grin. He sinks you down just an inch more, watches you gasp before tugging you back up. Bastard.
“Yes, please.” You nod dumbly and wrap your arms around him like he’s come home from a particularly long mission, let your body cover his and spread your legs as much as you can without making it hard on him.
The ruddy tip of his cock kisses your folds again, he misses once before he finally notches himself in, parts them with relative ease, sinking in deeper inch by inch and ignoring how his cock kicks and throbs with each warm sigh you let out against him. Your pussy is mind-meltingly warm, slick and viselike, if he weren’t careful he would’ve shoved himself into you instantaneously.
Leon was big, there’s no room for arguing there, he’s always had a cock that makes you think twice before going in with little to no preamble like this, if it hadn’t been for his hands holding you steady you would’ve squirmed away, begged him to kiss it better and really work you open with his fingers, not whatever he was doing before.
It felt like he was splitting you open in the best and worst ways possible, each whimper and whine soothed away bit by bit by him shushing you and rubbing little circles into the divots of your hips to distract you.
One thought makes its way through the haze. You aren’t going to last, your thighs squeeze shut as best as they can, granting your poor clit the friction it’s still begging for, though in a small amount. It’s hard for Leon to focus on lasting in the first place too when your pussy hugs him so tightly, it misses him, that much is clear.
Maybe that’s the part of you that misses him more than your heart does.
His fingers dimple the fat of your hips, squeezing and kneading, savoring the way flesh gives beneath the pads of his fingertips, if he holds on hard enough he won’t let himself get carried away by the wave.
“You okay?” Leon pants. He presses kisses where your cleavage is pressed against his face. Suffocate him, why don’t you?
You peer down and catch his gaze. Leon’s pupils are blown, black swallows up blue until it’s a thin line just around, eyes half-lidded like he’s on downers and ready to nod off. You like Leon most when he’s just as lost as you are, makes you wonder why you stopped having sex in the first place.
“Uh-huh,” You cradle the back of his head and press him closer against you. “C’mon, kiss ‘em for me.” Your other hand tugs the cups of your breast down just a bit, enough to pop a tit out and offer it up for his pleasure.
You don’t have to tell Leon twice, he takes one into his mouth and teases your nipple between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you shudder out a moan and shut your eyes. The pleasure-pain has your pussy clenching around him tighter than it has before.
“Fuck,” Leon hisses in between kisses, his hips jolt forward to chase his own pleasure now that your body’s reminded him exactly where his dicks at. Leon starts to steadily rut up into you like it’s your last day on earth.
And in a way he isn’t wrong, it surely feels like it is.
Any moment now a big rock will come flying down and wipe out humanity and you’ll die in his arms like you’re meant to. Vows always speak of for better or for worse, until death do us part. So what is he to do after this?
His palm slides down to grip onto the soft flesh of your ass, uses it as leverage and holds you just where he wants you. He’d take you hostage if he didn’t have morals.
You tip your head back and let out a low throaty moan, arch closer and plaster your tits further against his mouth. “Shit—” You whine, your hands plant themselves firmly against his shoulders, “Leon,”
Your mouth hangs open, half choked moans and words tumbling out in between gasps. Leon’s constantly adjusting his hold on you, starting to become uncertain with where to put his hands. Too pussy drunk to really care, each thrust sends a wave of heat through your core.
Your nails dug in as much as they could, praying they’ll rip through fabric and make contact with skin, score him to make certain he’s real and this isn’t some dream you’ll wake up from to find yourself sweat slicked and embarrassed to see you’ve rutted yourself against a pillow.
How long has it been since he’s last fucked you? A year? Two? Your cunt answers for you, too soaked for it to have been any less. No, it couldn’t have been that long. The last time you’re certain he had you like this was after he’d come back from the middle of nowhere, it doesn’t narrow it down but you know you’d been crying then too.
You always do.
Wait.
You’re crying?
You open your eyes and stare up at the roof, a snotty intake of air and a real sob is all Leon needs to hear to come to this realization too. Your chest expands and stutters half way. You’re crying?? The lump in your throat is confirmation.
“Why’re you crying?” Leon rasps out, your heart is being squeezed in a vice, he slows his thrust. His cock slides in and out in languid, syrupy strokes meant to let you get a grip, give him an answer that isn’t ’I don’t know.’ or a moan.
You force yourself to tilt your head down, sobbing softly against him. It’s not that you don’t know what you’re about to say, it’s that fucking Leon without saying it feels wrong. You love him. You do love him. Enough to let him go. Enough to not let your relationship deteriorate further. You still love him enough to be able to say it and mean it.
“I love you,” You whisper hoarsely, “God, I love you.” your own hips start to work themselves in tandem with his, taking him in deep and whimpering when the tip of his cock starts to shift from hammering against that little spot to grinding against it, wringing stars out from the sky’s above.
Leon groans like you’ve punched him in the gut, in a way you did, his head tips back and rests against the bench’s back rest. His eyes screw shut. You don’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. Not while you’re drunk off pleasure and high off the tension, it isn’t real this way.
“I love you,” You repeat raggedly, dipping your head down to hide against the crook of his neck, your spines being lit ablaze, flames traveling up the base to melt your brain. You whine his name and curl further into him. He shifts just enough to press his forehead against yours again. His jaw clenches.
Your noses bump against each other unapologetically.
“I know,” He grunts, “I got you, fuck, baby I got you. Always do.”
The truth is, he doesn’t. He hardly ever had time for you those last few months. And you can’t stand feeling so alone anymore, missed birthdays, holidays, anniversaries...it all piled up. You’d rather die than end up one of those bitter bored housewives who stayed for the money.
You love Leon enough to know he deserves better. You know he feels guilty for not being home so often, it’s best to just rip the bandaid off now.
At least for now you can believe it, pretend everything’s alright. It feels like it is. It feels like you’re twenty six again, giggling under his bedsheets and finding out what makes him tick all over again. Pressing kisses against his face and teasing him for going redder than he already was.
You open your eyes to find he’s already staring at you. So close you can see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and that his lashes have got greys too.
He's close. You can recognize that expression anywhere. His lips are pulled up in a pained snarl. His grunts turning to groans, slipping past his lips and reminding you how pretty he sounds when he’s about to cum.
“I love you too,” He parrots, catches your bottom lip between his teeth and presses his against yours again, swallows your words before either can dig the grave deeper. His arm bands around the small of your back, his fingers dig into the fat of your waist, hips smacking up against yours, that nasty squelch of slick flesh meeting again and again emanating louder between you two.
Your throat closes up, the knot that’s formed behind your navel starts to pull loose little by little, your half-bit keen comes in time with the pulsing of your inner muscle around him, if he’s delusional enough, he could believe you’re apologizing for breaking his heart in morse code.
Your hips twitched and jerked as you squirm and pull off, crying out that it’s too much, what hasn’t been emptied inside you spurted out and trickled down the length of his cock, both of your chests heaved in similar cadences, body’s going tense to jelly like in a matter of seconds, boneless and gone to the word.
Only when you met his gaze again and the afterglow started to fade, did you realize what exactly happened.
— x-x-x-x-x-x —
You stuff your compact mirror back into your purse.
For the last five minutes you’ve been scrubbing away the evidence off your face. Mascara trails down beneath your eyes, bits flake off and coat your cheeks like soot. Tirelessly, you’ve tried wiping away the flushed color from your cheeks, ignoring the way they burn.
While it’s easy to blame the rain for your dishevelment, it’s harder to ignore the jelly-like condition that’s suddenly rendered your legs useless.
Leon stands awkwardly behind you, he’s been adjusting his jacket for the past couple of minutes, tucking his collar up, slipping the extra in his waist band before pulling it back out, and sneaking glances he thinks you don’t notice.
God. The silence is worse this time around.
Your gut churns violently like waves crashing again and eroding a cliffslide. You’re stupid. You’re an idiot. An ingénue who let herself get carried away with the storm and scrabbled for land, solid and familiar. It’s still raining, it’s worse than before actually. You wonder if that’s the world trying to tell you something, maybe it’s berating you; for fucking him after divorcing him, for divorcing him in the first place, for telling him you loved him during, for not taking it back after.
Where would you two be if Leon had just tried? Would you have managed to find happiness again? Would he have found the time to come back to you as he was?
You didn’t mind having him jaded, drunk, mean, anything so long as he was there. You patched over those gaps, tucked them away out of sight, out of mind because at least he was there. Ugly and down in it, drowning in the currents right there with you.
And you know to some extent that these shadows and breaks were necessary, that he had to keep you in the dark and away from him as much as possible, it isn’t his fault. Leon couldn’t have known you’d grow this tired, he suspected it was a possibility, but he never let himself really acknowledge it. You’d vowed to each other, hadn’t that meant something?
Maybe it’s for the best things ended this way. There’s no real way to patch a fracture this wide, no way to bridge it when one party can’t compromise. Things are easier this way, they’ll have to be. What other choice do you have?
You already were indifferent to some degree towards the end, if you’d have ended up really hating him, wishing he’d just die in some corner of the world so you could collect…You scrub your hands against your face again. You’d rather this than that.
Your face is wet, breaths come out in puffs against your shaking hands and you wonder if it’s left over droplets from the rain or fresh tears. Does Leon regret this as much as you do? God, you could just take it all back, throw yourself at him and beg; ‘Please don’t let me divorce you, call the lawyers, it was a mistake, I'm so sorry hun’, i’m so stupid, I love you.’
You could try, you could get on your knees and grovel and Leon would hold you like he always did, he’d kiss the top of your head and cradle you like you’re something soft and small and in his arms you’d believe you were, he’d say you’re not stupid and he’d promise you things like he always has—
“That can’t happen again.” You blurt out. The rustle of fabric behind you stops. Your tongues gone numb between your teeth, bad habit.
You don’t want to turn around, your bloods both frozen in your veins and boiling hot bubbling beneath skin, the silence behind you is deafening, until you hear Leon exhale through his teeth.
When he finally opens his mouth, he tries for a joke like always, “Was it that bad?”
It doesn’t take a genius to hear it’s lacking his usual bravado. ‘No hard feelings’, you could hear it clear as day in his tone.
“No, it’s just…” You keep your hands pressed against your face then they slap against your sides rather loudly. Don’t make me say it, you want to say. Won’t you please tell me? you could hear him say in return if he knew.
You force yourself to turn and take one look at him, a risk, and it tells you all you need to know. He came to the conclusion the moment you’d scrambled back inside, it’s in your eyes, in your pinched brows and pouted lips, in the tears you hide under the guise of rain droplets.
“No, I know. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.” Leon apologizes first and your heart splits in two to hear that dejected tone he’s trying to hide so hard beneath gruff timbre. Your Leon, always the one to take the blame.
Your vision blurs again, tears stinging like nettles. ‘I’m sorry, Leon.’ is all you should say, all you could say. You’d repeat it over and over again until you both believed it. But it’s exactly what you won’t say. Leon’s zipped his jacket up and settled against the doorframe, you need to pull the plug, he needs to pull it.
It’d be better if you took one for the team, let him be the one who leaves first for once.
“My rides almost here." You swipe at your eye and mumble. You’ve no idea where your friend is, forty minutes have long since passed. “I’ll um…I’ll see you Monday.”
Leon stays silent, stares at the floor, then at you. You think he’ll say something, fight you about it, force you to shake off this weird mood so it can be like before again. Instead he just hesitates and nods, always too good at taking orders.
“Yeah.” He mutters, patting his pockets for his phone and his keys before he reaches for the door handle. “See you.”
The door closes with a click shut behind him, and maybe you preferred the silence from before. You don’t know what’s worse. That look on his face, the flat sound of his voice, or being left behind to wait alone in this big empty house.
Watching Leon go still makes a lump form in your throat. Reminds you of the nights he’d wake you before he went off on some mission, leaving you behind with a soft kiss and a ‘Love you, be home soon.’
After a few minutes of mind numbing silence, you move towards the window on your own accord and lean against the window, just out of sight. Leon’s already sitting in his Porsche, head pressed against the steering wheel.
The rain trickles down the pane and obscures your vision. You think after today, you’ll come to hate it too.
So in the au when did Leon become a yandere towards [Name] was it after the Raccoon City disaster or during? Also, how did they become roommates?
They didn't become a roomates, more like how they went from two strangers to teammates, close friends, and then soulmates. (platonic— sad for Leon)
Re2 - Like in any typical Leon x reader stories, they first meet in Raccoon City, but at this stage they aren't very close. Leon and [Name] are primarily focused on escaping and keeping the group safe. In the scenes featuring Ada, [Name] will not be there but will mostly be with Claire and Sherry until they reunited with Leon.
During this period, Leon's feelings for Ada were intense, while [Name] was just an ordinary citizen who needed rescuing.
And in later stages, only after spending enough time together did Leon begin to develop feelings for [Name], almost a duo on every mission.
It was only towards the end of Re6 that [Name] disappeared, and their disappearance from everyone's memory. In Vendetta, if [Name] disappeared, there would be no one to stop him from drinking, which makes sense to why he in such a bad state.
I think Leon will truly become a yandere when he meets [Name] again in Requiem, and as for the earlier stages, it's because he's afraid they will die at some point, so he can be very possessive and overprotective.
a/n: this a long depressing one so get ready. there will be some comfort, just not any time soon 😁
warnings: heavy angst, mentions of parental loss, injuries (from fighting), krauser (cuz he’s a dick)
creds for header: @saradika-graphics
Chapter One / Chapter Two
Leon still picks up the pieces of you that you left behind.
Your scarf, your shirts (technically Leon’s old shirts but they looked better on you), hell, even strands of your hair sometimes.
You’re all over him; imprints left on his mind, body and soul. Yet he’s never felt so alone.
Sometimes, when he wakes up and the golden light of the morning sun trinkles in through his windows, he swears he sees a glimpse of your body underneath his covers, your face smiling up at him with that gold shine in your eyes.
Then he blinks.
And you’re gone.
You’ve been gone for sixteen years. He hopes that you’re living the life you always wanted – with the perfect house, perfect job, perfect husband. But secretly, selfishly, he wishes that your perfect life could include him in it. He would have settled for not being your husband, just a friend, maybe, because he knows he’ll always be yours anyway. You know that too. But he believes that you’re not capable of being his, because you deserve better; you deserve peace and stability, the constant reassurance that the person you will spend the rest of your life with will always be there.
In another universe, you’ve been married for approximately 28 years, and you both would have spent your late forties, early fifties, travelling the whole world for pleasure. But it wouldn’t have mattered where he went with you – he would have never seen something as transcendent or intoxicating as you.
However, it is just Leon’s luck that he had to be born in the universe where you are doing all of that, with another. And Leon? He spends his days finding trinkets of you lying around his apartment.
-
After you left that day, the day where Leon was an utter coward who refused to attend your own father’s funeral, he lost every bit of stability in his life after that.
The government tracked him down and asked him ‘nicely’ to join a special force team, the DSO.
He was only 21. He was meant to be a police officer. He was meant to save people.
The DSO was another way of saving people, he was told. Leon would save more people, protect more lives. So, he went along with it.
He packed his bags, which he packed inside it a photograph of you and him, around his 21st birthday, when you were both laughing in a photobooth because it was nearly impossible to pose in time for the countdown. You had given him a birthday princess crown (which he wore with some convincing), you had baked him a cake of his favourite flavour, you had bought him the new album of his favourite band. But most of all, you gave him a birthday worth cherishing. A memory that would encourage him to keep going. Because in all the darkness in the world, which would sometimes consume him, there had to be light too.
You were the light.
Leon remembers the first couple weeks of training with his old mentor, Krauser. The pain, the physical exhaustion, the constant burden of not being good enough.
Eventually, his body became so accustomed to the pain that Leon could not remember the last time he didn’t feel pain.
He didn’t realise this, but he was slowly turning numb. More logical. More robotic.
It was five months before his 24th birthday. Leon knew he wouldn’t be celebrating it – he even forgot his own birthday the year before.
He was on break from the intensive training, the constant loop remaining in his head from Krauser that he had to be ‘the best of the best’, when he saw you walking down the street.
It was as if Leon was his 20-year-old self again, seeing the most beautiful creation in all of existence walk down the street. Except, you felt more out-of-reach. Like he could have ran up to you and you would have disappeared.
You stopped at the stoplight, looking at your surroundings, when you noticed him.
You didn’t really move after that.
You remained there, just staring at him. His dirty blonde hair was no longer dirty, just light. His muscles had filled out more, and his eyes were still that icy blue. But they weren’t the eyes that you once memorised. They weren’t the eyes of the man you fell in love with.
Leon had crossed the street to walk towards you when the stoplight turned red, everything halting around you, and you didn’t disappear. You stayed put.
“Hey.” He softly approached you, as if you were a scared deer being approached by a wolf.
You exhaled lightly. “Long time, no see.”
Leon nodded, sighing to himself. “You’re telling me.”
There was a brief moment of silence between you both, uncomfortable as if you had never spoken a word to each other in all your life.
“How have you been?” You asked, breaking the silence.
Leon hesitated before answering. “Fine. You?”
You shrugged. “Fine.”
Another uncomfortable silence, that time much longer.
You sighed again, seemingly forcing your body to relax as you spoke to him, a slight smile on your lips.
“You wanna get a coffee?”
Leon knew he should have said no, should have lied and made up an excuse, and never, ever see you again.
But he couldn’t handle it.
He owed it to the rookie in him to go with you.
So, he did.
You both sat outside a coffee shop on the corner; you sipping your caramel latte, whilst Leon held onto his espresso.
“So,” you spoke, wiping your mouth from coffee froth, which Leon still found achingly adorable. “What are you doing in Washington?”
Leon could tell the truth; that he and a couple of other trainees had a formal event later that evening in which they would be congratulated for their years of hard work and dedication. He could even go so far as tell you that the president may even be there himself to personally welcome these men into the DSO and expressed his so-called gratitude for their future service. But he wanted you to live with the delusion that he hadn’t changed, so maybe you could have remembered him as that boy with stardust in his eyes and helping hands in his pockets.
“Visiting friends. You?”
You smiled slightly. “New job. Just started a couple weeks ago.”
Leon grinned, falling into the rhythm of a normal conversation. “Oh yeah? How’s that going?”
“Oh, I’m pure shit.”
At that, you both chuckled.
“But, at least I’m making decent money now. Don’t have to light candles when the electricity runs out anymore.” You grinned, reminding Leon of the many times where the both of you would lie beneath the covers as candle lights flickered around you.
He hummed in recognition, his glance turning to the untouched espresso in front of him.
“…But I gotta admit; candles were always romantic.”
Leon grinned, only slightly, looking up at you as you stared at him as if nothing had changed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You smiled, taking another sip of your caramel latte, the froth left over on your upper lip being wiped away by Leon before you had a chance to do it yourself.
Leon had offered to walk you back to your place, to which you accepted, gladly taking the opportunity to spend more time with him, to try and get to know what he had been up to for two years.
But he never said anything. He never told you anything drastic, or new, or life changing. He would make the occasionally quip when you told a story, or grin slightly when you told him of your new dog – a German Shephard called Sam. Yet, he never spoke for too long or smiled for too long. It was as if he was not allowed to be human.
You had arrived back to yours when he turned to face you with a serious expression on his face.
“Listen,” Leon sighed, as if he was about to deliver grave news.
You frowned slightly in concern, tilting your head as you waited for him to continue.
“I wanna see you again.”
You sighed, shaking your head to yourself at his dramatics.
“When?” You looked up at him and smiled, and he thought whenever you need me.
“Whenever you’re next available. I mean, I’ll be willing to make an appointment to see you if you need me to.”
You laughed at that, feeling like the twenty-year-old who was mesmerised by his crooked grin and boyish charms.
“I don’t know, I’ll have my assistant call you to finalise the details.”
Leon grinned, and you suddenly forgot why you walked away in the first place.
“Um, maybe we can get together tomorrow, have some dinner?”
He nodded, staring down at you with a slight sliver of stardust in his eyes as he smiled slightly.
“Sure. I’ll pick you up at 7. I know a good place.”
With that, you exchanged new cell phone numbers, and he left, leaving you standing there outside your front door as you watched him walk away.
It was as if your initial split up was completely erased – the impact of his trauma, your father’s death, him leaving you alone right when you needed him most.
But you missed him.
It had felt lonely for those two years you had been without him.
No one knew you, knew what made you truly smile, laugh, cry and frown like Leon did.
No one will ever know you as best as Leon does.
-
After that date the next night, things between you both had essentially picked up from where you left it.
Not the complete same, of course, Leon had his new stone walls built around him, but occasionally, he would let you in just enough to give you a peek of who he was then.
You knew he worked for the government; you knew that it was soul-ruining, body-breaking work. But he would never tell you what he actually did, how his days were actually spent.
Sometimes Leon would come home, to your home, around 1am in the morning, with bruises dusted along his body, after being gone for a week, and give you a warm embrace as if everything was okay.
And truly, you were convinced it was. You remembered the days where your father would sometimes come home from his job with bruises and cuts after chasing criminals all day – it was just what you were used to.
Didn’t mean that you didn’t pamper the hell out of Leon.
And then, after those weeks of being gone, where he was god-knows-where, Leon would wake up beside you, he would make you coffee, he would buy you flowers because he knew you loved your home being surrounded in beautiful flowers, he would walk your dog every day that he could because, at that point, that dog was his too, he would pick you up as if you weighed nothing and forced you to lay with him on the couch when your head was stuck on your computer for too long, and he would kiss you the same way he used to always kiss you.
As if he was nervous that you would go at any time.
You kissed him the same way you used to always kiss him – as if you would never stop loving him.
You still wore that promise ring he gifted to you – in fact, you never took it off, even when you separated for those two years. And Leon walked past a ring shop one day, only to walk out with a ring that was meant to make you his for eternity.
There was always the lingering doubt in his mind that he wasn’t destined for this life – he wasn’t destined for you.
Of course, he was right.
It was during another one of those weeks when Leon was gone for training, that he finally came to that realisation.
“You’re fighting like you’re scared, kid.”
Krauser had circled around him whilst Leon took a break from training, panting hard whilst taking a sip of his water.
“I’m not.”
Krauser scoffed and halted to a stop right in front of him, his menacing glare making Leon feel like a child again.
“Yes. You are.”
Krauser glared at Leon, fixing his eyes right into his eyes as if he was attempting to rip open his soul.
“You’re fighting like you got something to lose.”
Immediately, you flashed into Leon’s mind, and he gulped, backing away from Krauser.
“Don’t we all?”
Krauser sighed and shook his head.
“Only the good fighters have nothing to lose; that’s why they’re good, too.”
He walked away from Leon, leaving him hanging onto his every word as he adjusted the bandages on his hands, covering his knuckles.
“I’ve seen it in you these past months, something’s changed. Something has entered your life and made you soft as shit.”
Krauser turned around to face him, watching as Leon’s face slowly dropped.
“Better to let that something go before you really do have nothing to lose.”
-
Leon returned home the next day after being gone for two weeks, except this time he didn’t just walk into your place as if he truly lived there.
He sat outside on your doorstep for an hour after he arrived in Washington before you woke up and decided to open the front door to check for any overnight deliveries.
You had initially smiled when you saw him, but you realised something did not feel right.
In fact, it felt just like before he broke your heart the first time.
Leon looked up at you and finally stood up, facing you as he sighed.
As if muscle memory, you immediately took his face in your hands, gazing up at him with a look that was his home.
“What’s wrong?”
He sighed, and held your hands in his instead, dropping them softly in an attempt to let you down easy.
“I can’t keep doing this.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Doing what?”
“I can’t keep being with you because it’s too dangerous.”
You scoffed. “Dangerous? Why, ‘cause of your job? Leon, I know you work for the government, but I don’t think I’m that important to be getting death threats anyti—”
“You don’t understand.” Leon interrupted you with a firm voice, his hard-set gaze silencing you.
“The type of work I do, or will be doing, it involves some shady people. Really shady people. And horrible shit, like biological weapons and diseases and fucking messed up stuff. The same kind of stuff that killed your dad.”
Tears had welled up in your eyes, yet you were stubborn enough to not let them fall.
“I just… I can’t let anything happen to you, I won’t—”
“So, what, that means we can’t be together? Leon, who is that good for?”
“You.”
You sighed, wiping away a stray tear that managed to sneak out.
“You’re really doing this to me again? Really?”
Leon averted his gaze to the plant pot beside your front door, trying his absolute hardest to not look at you.
“I should have never gone anywhere near you again in the first place.”
It was ridiculous to expect that things could go back to the way they were, you realised that. How they used to be, how he used to be, it was all gone. All it was, was just a dream.
“Fine. Then go. But you better not come back.” You managed to push those words out, as faint as they were.
Leon nodded slightly. “Believe me, I don’t plan to.”
Then he walked away.
And you were left at your doorstep, crying into the sleeve of his sweatshirt as you watched him drive off.
It was the cruellest act he had ever committed to you; giving you hope for a life spent with him, where it would be full of pure love and adoration that grew every single day spent together, only to take it all away because he was scared.
He was scared of losing you; yet he lost you so many times.
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People wanted to know if Leon succeeded in Sweet, and here's your answer
Today’s the day. Today Leon finds out that he’s finally getting his baby girl. He knows it deep in his heart that the universe will finally grant him this one wish.
Leon normally prefers to keep the gender reveal private. It’s supposed to be an intimate moment between you two, but this time around he wants everyone to witness it. After so many tries and so many years, Leon is finally getting his baby girl.
“You two, be on your best behavior. Today is your daddy’s day okay?” You give your boys a threatening look, hoping to get a point across. Matt and Leo nod in response, while your toddler stares at you with wide eyes. You nearly gush, picking James up from the floor and filling his face with kisses. “Aren’t you excited, my love? You’re getting a baby sister.”
Leon knocks on wood, fearing that his fate will change. He ensures every single member of his family wears pink, making it clear that the family has a preference– The baby will be loved equally regardless but it’s time for a little girl to join the family.
“Are you two ready?” Leon asks, walking over to his boys to make sure they’re ready. Nothing they can do today will ruin his moment. Today, they are his little angels whether they like it or not.
“We’re ready,” the eldest nods, and Leon ruffles their hair. For once, he believes that his boys will actually behave. Leon’s hope in the world is slowly being restored.
His eyes then land on you, the sweetest smile coming to his face. His hand goes to your bump as he presses a kiss on your temple. He crouches down, pressing a kiss on your bump and saying, “We’re so excited to meet you, baby girl.”
“Okay, baby. Let’s go downstairs, people are going to show up soon,” you tell him, urging him to get up from the floor. Leon listens, taking James from your arms and guiding the boys downstairs.
As guests arrive, Leon keeps track of who wears pink– Nearly everyone. But there’s still an asshole or two that think they’re being hilarious while wearing a blue shirt. Even with the negativity around, Leon is not going to let anyone ruin his day. It’s his day.
Leon already has the perfect reaction for when he sees the pink confetti. He’s ready. He’s ready for when he first holds her in his arms. He has already started buying her clothes. He has the perfect nursery planned out for her. For fuck’s sake, he’s already setting up her college fund.
Leon holds James in his arms, ensuring the toddler is safe from his brothers. He’s by your side at all times, protecting you from any evil eye. Leon is not spiritual, but today he believes everything that will make sure that he’s getting his baby girl.
Leon keeps James in his arms at all times, greeting people and sharing his excitement for the fourth baby. He doesn’t boast about the fact that he’s finally getting his baby girl, but the excitement is clear. Everyone that has been around Leon for long enough knows that he’s been dying for a baby girl.
The man barely even pays attention to his boys that are probably causing a ruckus. As long as Leon is happy, he’s letting everyone do whatever they want. He even gives James a lollipop to get all loaded on sugar.
The time comes, and the genderkeeper gets the balloons, handing them to you and Leon. Leon puts down James, letting the toddler run free until a family member catches him and keeps him in his arms to whine and cry. Still, Leon finds the toddler to be much calmer than his brothers.
Leon has the biggest smiles on his face, getting jittery from excitement. He kisses your lips as a countdown begins for you to finally pop the balloons, and Leon nearly cheers from excitement when they get to one. You pop the balloons at the same time.
Blue confetti swarms the air, and you look at your husband with wide eyes. The wide smile that was on his face drops, but as he hears people cheering he tries to keep it up. The last thing he wants is for his fourth son to watch a video of the gender reveal and realize his daddy just wasn’t that excited for yet another son.
Leon engulfs you in a hug, kissing you, trying to disguise the slight disappointment. Curse his seed and everyone that wears blue today. The universe hates him.
“This time you’re getting a vasectomy,” you whisper in his ear, trying to maintain a smile as everyone watches you and cheers you on.
“Oh, trust me, my love. We don’t need a vasectomy,” Leon is holding back tears, watching in the background as his older boys hold James as if the toddler were a human sacrifice. Leon wishes he could read their mind to figure out their thinking process and their next move, but even a psychic would end up confused. “I’m cutting off my balls.”
He pulls away from the hug, and cheers loud enough for everyone to hear, “Wooo! Another boy!”
I made this art a few months ago, unfortunately, at that time I was not experiencing the best emotions and apparently it resulted in this art. And my love for this character too…
helping your husband clean out his attic was a gruelling task—one that you wish you could pull back from.
you and leon hadn't lived in this house for very long before you two decided you needed more space. while, yes, the two of you could make do in an 800 square-foot home, if kids were to enter in the picture (because leon knew that was something he wanted ever since he surpassed the midlife crisis of his 30s–early 40s, biological or adopted or by whatever other means), you'd need more space. a lot more.
if leon had it his way, you'd be on the couch, lounging on the porch, anywhere else but doing hands-on labor with him, "to keep your precious hands soft and away from stress," he insisted, to which you battled with a strong (and difficult to deny) "you can’t stop me!". he always had a hard time saying no to you.
so here you are, knees wrinkled from hours of digging into carpet and your back sweatier than when you started, and you're tired, but it was your idea to help. what are you gonna do, take it back?
a playlist of 80s and 90s tunes swims through the dusty air of the house, which was growing emptier with every hour that passed. while leon disassembled his office setup, you sit by the feet of his attic ladder surrounded by a ring of unlabeled boxes. leon simply told you to throw out anything that looked unimportant—old receipts, outdated reports, newspapers with expired coupons still intact—so you made two piles: keep vs. throw. it was safe to say that the throw pile was taller by several inches.
you never took leon for much of a hoarder, but he was evidently more sentimental than you ever would've guessed. either that or he was very dismissive and forgetful, relying on good ole cardboard to rid his life of clutter that really isn't hard to rid of himself. you begin to grow bored of being on sorting duty, but you know it's more favourable than having to unscrew, unscrew, pull apart and tuck away.
after a while your mind starts to drift off, mindlessly glancing at papers and knickknacks before tossing them to your left or right, until one paper catches your eye.
it's a photograph, colours sun bleached and patchy, worn out where the photo folded, its corners rounded from constantly being rustled around, but despite the state of ruin, your eyes recognize that boy before your brain does.
hair short and a notably dirty-brunette-blond, looked decently tall but his eyes had a sparkle which suggested that he had a chance of gaining a few more inches, all while sporting a creaseless blue uniform that couldn't have been worn more than once. his hands rested on his hips and he had a boyish grin, one you vaguely recognize, though the one you know now had far more wrinkles and scruff.
despite everything you know he is your leon, younger than the one in the office down the hall, but charming as ever. you're sure that if you'd met him back then, you'd find him cute too, and you almost laugh. not because it’s funny, really, but because it feels strange seeing him like this. younger, before the lines beside his mouth multiplied and deepened.
you turn the photo over but there's nothing written. of course. leon wasn't much of a journaler.
you stare at the photograph a moment longer, thumb rubbing lightly against its worn edge. it feels odd, almost tender, seeing proof that he had once been young in a way you’d never known him to be. not just younger, but untouched by you, by the years you’d shared and even the years that shaped him first, all the things that had settled into him since. you instinctively glance down the hall toward the office where he’d disappeared, hearing the faint sound of something clattering to the floor followed by a tired sigh muttered under his breath. a small smile tugs at your mouth before you look back down at the picture and wonder briefly what he’d been like back then. if he was the loud kid in the back, the cocky one with irrationally high grades despite his pride, or maybe the quiet, sweet one that held the door for all the women in his class.
"hey, honey?"
your husband's voice comes before he does, closer now. his footsteps squeeze the old floorboards as he appears in the doorway, one hand still flexing absentmindedly from carrying heavy loads, black cotton sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
"doin' good in here? oh, pretty good progress, sweetheart," he says as he crouches next to you with a soft grunt and his knees cracking, the ghost of a teasing smile, but it softens the second he notices you sitting unusually still.
his eyes follow your gaze downward, landing on the photograph in your hands, and he pauses. for just one second, he looks caught off guard.
"oh, man," he says quietly, a breathier sound than intended, rubbing the back of his neck, "s'that me?"
he reaches slowly and there’s something almost shy about the way he moves, like you’ve stumbled onto something embarrassingly personal. all you can do in response is look at him and let him take the photo.
"you couldn't've been older than twenty two," you say softly.
his gaze is locked on the photo and he squints, bringing it closer to his face, "yeah, yeah you're right on. i was twenty one."
leon huffs a quiet laugh, already half grimacing. "don’t tell me you’ve been judging twenty-one year old me this whole time."
you exhale a small laugh back, "of course not. not with how handsome you were."
leon's smile doesn't leave his face, but he seems to zone out, mind flooding with memories that he hadn't let surface for decades. his thumb runs over the creases and his lips purse into themselves as he adjusts his posture, sitting properly crisscrossed.
you place your palm on his shoulder and squeeze gently, prying him out of rumination.
"hey, you okay?"
"uh huh," his head slightly jerks towards you but his eyes stay where they are.
you let him look for a few more moments, contemplating whether or not you should interrupt his focus or allow the photo to continue digging into his brain, sending all sorts of ticklish signals his nerves. and while you go back and forth, leon's the one to break the silence.
"i haven't thought of my academy days much lately... sorta let 'em stay in their place."
you hum quietly, eyes flickering between the photograph and his face. there’s something different about him right now. his energy is softer, somehow, and not sad exactly, but distant in the way he sometimes got when an old memory caught him by the collar and pulled too hard.
"was it good?" you ask gently. " your time at the academy, i mean."
leon lets out a breath through his nose, shoulders rising and falling slow, "sometimes," his lips twitch.
"thought i knew everythin’ back then. thought i was gonna be the one to save the world or somethin'," he shakes his head, glancing back down at the photo. "i was pretty stupid, actually."
you nudge his shoulder lightly, "hey, that's my husband you're talking about, and he's very smart."
that finally gets a proper laugh out of him, low and warm, though it only lasts a second.
"okay, not stupid," he pauses, "but definitely naive." his thumb smooths over the bent corner of the picture again. "didn't realize life could change that fast. one week i'm complainin' about training and shitty canteen food, next…" he trails off.
you know better than to wait for him to finish that sentence.
the house grows quieter around you, except for some muffled guitar drifting from the speaker downstairs and the occasional whine of old wood settling beneath your bodies. leon shifts beside you until his shoulder bumps yours properly, lingering there. he hands the photograph back, but his fingers stay resting against the edge for a second too long.
"y'know," he says, voice even quieter now, "it's weird thinkin' about how you didn't know me back then." his eyes finally leave the picture to settle on you, something unreadable tucked behind them. "part of me wishes you did."
you glance down at the photograph again, at the boy with the bright eyes, then back at the man beside you whose shoulders carried both the weight of his past, and the weight of your new life.
when you stay quiet, unsure of how to respond without making the moment even more gloomy, he adds, "i definitely would've had a crush you, though." which earns a grin from you. half belief, half 'okay now...'
"yeah," you nod, nudging his knee with yours. "i probably would've thought you were cute too."
"cute," he repeats, feigning offence. "twenty one year old me would've hated that."
"well twenty one year old you would've had to get over it."
leon smiles a smile that deepens the lines by his eyes. tired, fond, entirely because of and for you, but then they fade into something quiet again.
"i just mean…" he exhales slowly, gaze dropping back to the photo. "there's a lot you haven't seen. good stuff, bad stuff. feels weird sometimes knowin' you only met me after…" his jaw shifts. "after i already got worn down."
your chest tightens, because that's the thing. leon never quite understood the way you saw him. to him, there was always some invisible split in time. before you and after you. the hopeful kid and the exhausted, wrecked man. twenty one and fifty-ish. the leon that still believed the world could be fixed, and the one who'd already witnessed too much of it falling apart. like somehow, you got the lesser version.
you lean closer before he can disappear too deeply into himself, resting your head lightly against his shoulder.
"hey," you murmur, a firmness in your voice that leon recalls from when he denies being in pain after a mission. "don't do that."
he lets out a quiet breath, because he already knows what you mean. his head tilts slightly closer to yours, "do what?"
"feel bad." you say simply, but it gets his attention more than you expected. his eyes focus only on yours now, slowly switching between left and right, checking whether you’re serious.
there’s a second where neither of you move much.
leon finally sighs through his nose, a little sharper this time. "m'not feeling bad."
you shift closer, shoulder pressing into his. "it's okay to think about how much happened before we did. it's not like you can stop it from happening now." you watch him more carefully now, a little scared that you might say the wrong thing and spark an argument.
you didn't argue a lot, rarely ever at all, but leon's past was such a sensitive topic for the both of you. for you because there's so much you're still learning to accept that you won't understand. for leon, well, you know why.
he shrugs a little, but not casually. "just when you showed up after it all and… everything became better, and calmer. i feel like i turned into a completely different man. one who's easier to be around. sometimes i worry about if you'd known me the entire time what would've changed."
your hand slides over his, grounding him before he can drift too far into that thought. "leon, hey," you say softly, "even if you did change. who did i meet?"
his eyes narrow in the smallest way and you squeeze his hand once. "who did i fall in love with, and marry? who am i with now?"
leon can't respond, just holds your gaze like he’s trying to decide whether to believe you or argue, then his shoulders loosen, just slightly.
"do you really think it's that easy?"
"of course it is," you reply immediately. "and not just for me. it can be for you too."
leon looks away first this time.
"you’re annoying," he mutters eventually, but there’s no bite in it.
you smile faintly. "annoyingly right all the time?"
a reluctant sound slips out of him that just barely counts as a laugh. he finally lowers the photo to the floor, no longer studying it so intensely, accepting that he’s allowed it to simply exist now instead of pulling him backwards.
"if i actually got to have a crush on you back then, it probably would’ve made my life way more complicated."
you glance at him. "oh?"
"yeah," he says dryly. "would’ve had to learn to behave."
his comment pulls something easier back into the room with it, and leon shifts a little closer, head tipping toward yours. he gently rubs his nose on your cheek, then your shoulder, then finally nuzzling his face into your collar bone. you feel his breaths, warm and even.
"good thing we met you when we did then," you add, almost under your breath. and this time, leon's doesn't ask for reassurance. he looks just fine where he is, next to you.
summary: a sparring session with kirishima gets a little out of hand, and being the only medic able to deal with katsuki bakugou, you’re left with the aftermath.
content: fluff + SMUT - mdni ! boxer!bkg + medic!reader. kiri feature! blood & injury. feelings!!! tension. lots of banter. clear consent. semi-public. making out. thigh riding. slight marking / hickeys. fondling. titty sucking. fingerfucking. cum eating. bkg does not get off but he is fine w that. there is a quite a bit of build up before the smut lol. wc: 5.2k.
note: #needthat
masterlist. | header art credit: @ ami_ranthao on tiktok !
In the ring, he came alive. An absolute powerhouse, brute force and flawless technique bleeding together to create Katsuki Bakugou, one of the best up and coming boxers of your time. Everyone was a little enamored— a perfect face paired with such a vulgar tongue, an ego backed with the skill to match.
His win-or-nothing attitude led him to the top, but also caused complications with his medical staff. A few too many outbursts had scared them into backing down, allowing him to keep pushing despite his injuries.
Until you were hired a few months ago.
The first day you were assigned to him, the other medics had either snickered or grimaced, having each had their own share of bad luck with him. It seemed to be some rite of passage among them. When you met him, you understood exactly what the others had meant. There was enough fire behind that stare to send anyone skittering away.
But, to their surprise, you had returned back in one piece, with a perfectly bandaged Katsuki trailing behind you; glowering, with something like an irritated smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but tended to.
You were the only medic that could handle him.
Which is why you were spending your Saturday evening with your knees drawn to your chest on a bench at the edge of the boxing gym as he sparred with his close friend, and fellow boxer, Eijirou Kirishima.
The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.
Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.
You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.
But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.
It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.
"Fuck!"
The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.
Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.
"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"
Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.
"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"
He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."
His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."
"You deaf or something? Beat it."
More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.
Your job was to keep that from happening.
With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.
"You are gushing blood. Come on—"
"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"
"Again, don't be dumb—"
Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.
"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."
Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.
You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.
It was just you two now.
Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.
You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.
"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"
He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.
You sighed.
"Right before I get off too..."
"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."
"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."
Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."
You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.
A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.
You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.
“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”
“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”
You rolled your eyes, but he continued.
"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”
“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”
“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."
"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."
The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.
His eyes never left you.
Sometimes, you wondered why.
Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.
"Bleeding stopped."
He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.
When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.
"I was going for his blind spot."
Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.
But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.
His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.
“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.
"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."
He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.
"Knew you were starin'."
Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.
"Well, that is my job."
"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."
You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.
"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."
"You think you're so funny."
"I think your ego's inflated."
"Wanna say that again?"
You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.
"Save it, Katsuki."
You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.
Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.
It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his opponents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.
You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."
He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.
"You don't want that."
The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.
What did you want? The question made you uneasy.
(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)
You pushed back slightly, deflecting.
“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”
“No it's not.”
It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.
"Don't play dumb right now."
“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.
"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”
"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."
You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.
You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.
The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.
“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”
The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.
Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.
He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.
But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.
(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)
You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.
"Some…someone could—"
"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.
"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"
"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "
You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.
"Katsuki. I was joking."
He hummed.
(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)
"Sure you were."
You opened your mouth, then closed it. The deflections that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.
You sighed, next words defeated.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”
“Katsuki…”
It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.
For what— to let you go?
(To keep going?)
He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”
And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened.
For you, he was being intentionally careful.
Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.
"There are rules about this sort of thing—"
"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"
"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"
You swallowed back the rest of it.
He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.
Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.
"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."
You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."
He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.
(You're the one I see. You.)
His earlier words rang in your ears.
Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it.
You couldn't, because you had.
Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.
He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.
(Him. You imagined him.)
Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.
But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.
Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.
Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.
“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."
Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)
"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"
Slowly, you nodded.
"Yes."
His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.
The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.
Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.
He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.
You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?
When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.
He groaned, "Fuck it."
You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.
You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.
Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.
Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.
Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.
"Feel good?"
Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.
You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarrassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.
His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.
Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.
Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.
He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.
You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.
Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.
You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.
Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.
This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.
He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.
But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.
The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."
He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.
You nodded, a little frantic.
"Off. Please."
He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.
His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.
You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.
You glanced down at your shirt.
"This too."
He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."
His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.
For a beat too long, he just stared.
On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.
"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.
You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.
You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.
Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.
Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.
Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.
He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.
"All this from just my thigh?"
There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.
Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."
He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satisfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.
"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."
You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."
He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"
Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, before circling your entrance.
"I can show you mean."
His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."
He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.
He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.
"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"
You nodded frantically, beyond words.
The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.
"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"
You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.
Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.
You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.
You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"
You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.
“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”
You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.
"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"
He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.
You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.
He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.
"Look at me."
It didn't sound like a request.
"Hm?"
You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.
He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.
Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.
When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.
"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.
You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.
"You're shameless."
"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."
Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.
He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarrassed. Shit was hot."
"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."
Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.
"Much better than good."
He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.
That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?
He didn't cum.
"Hey, wait you didn't—"
He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.
"Does it look like I care."
His dismissal of his own need threw you off.
"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"
"Sure you can. You just did."
You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.
You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.
You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"
He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.
"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."
You blinked. Fuck.
"…I can be quick?"
That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.
He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.
"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."
The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.
You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.
"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."
may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok
btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️
big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️🩹
again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!
taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :
masterlist ★ taglist form ★ want to send in a request?
genre : comedic banter, funny banter, flirt, romance? idk, fluff?, language, suggestive language, but nothing way too explicit
wc: 1.4k
Summary — You were peacefully cooking dinner until your husband, Leon S. Kennedy, came home from grocery shopping suddenly way too needy for your attention. But unfortunate for him your daughter, luna, had other plans for the evening.
As you stood in the kitchen, your apron tied neatly over your floral dress, you quietly inhaled the warm air around you; rich with the scent of fresh pasta sauce and garlic sizzling softly in the pan and slowly; absentmindedly you stirred them together.
And for once, everything felt peaceful.
Honestly, if you thought back on it, you never truly believed he would ever be yours. But now, here you are, cooking dinner for your small family, as you think about it; a small smile slowly appears on your face.
Your thoughts were pulled away the moment the front door opened, and your five-year-old daughter yelled dramatically from the living room, “Mommyyyyy! Dadddyyyy’s home!”
You chuckled softly and craned your neck to glance outside the kitchen, though obviously it was useless, so you simply shook your head instead and called back, “Yes, sweetie.”
As Leon entered the house, you heard the door click shut behind him, followed by quiet whispers and tiny giggles shared between him and your daughter. The sound alone warmed your heart so tenderly that you found yourself zoning out again while stirring the pot.
A second later, his footsteps echoed in the kitchen as Leon finally walked inside; carrying grocery bags in both hands. You paused for a moment and turned to look at him, only to realize he looked far too ridiculously attractive for a man who had just gone grocery shopping. His sleeves were rolled up, hair slightly messy, exhaustion lingering on his face in the prettiest way possible. His eyes are solely on you and you feel yourself getting a little shy.
God even after eight years of marriage he still made you feel like that. “Bought everything?” you asked instead of focusing on his stupidly attractive frame, and trying to sound composed, but you knew your voice might have betrayed you anyway so, you turned your attention back toward the pan.
“Mhm,” Leon hummed lazily.
You barely had time to blink before he set the grocery bags down on the floor with a soft thud and walked straight behind you, his large hands immediately sliding around your waist. “Leon—” you breathed.
But he only hummed quietly against your shoulder, pulling you back flush against his chest as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks instead of a few minutes.
His warmth instantly surrounded you. “You smell so good,” he muttered, voice rough from exhaustion, his nose brushing against the side of your neck before he pressed a lazy kiss there.
You tried focusing on the pasta again, though your hand slowed on the spoon almost immediately, and you felt your knees weaken at the kiss, “I’m cooking.” you say quietly.
“I can see that.” Leon whispered and pressed another kiss behind your ear, making you tingle all over “Leon,” you laughed softly, already feeling your face warm, “the sauce is gonna burn.”
“Then turn the heat down.” Leon breathed against your skin, the audacity in his voice made you shake your head, but your lips betrayed you with a smile anyway.
Behind you, Leon sighed dramatically, tightening his arms around your waist like he physically couldn’t stand being more than an inch away from you. His chin rested on your shoulder while his fingers lazily rubbed circles against your stomach beneath the apron. “Missed you,” he murmured.
You blinked slightly, and felt your shiver at his touch at how soft he sounded. He still did this sometimes, said things so simply, so honestly, that it caught you completely off guard. As if loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. “You were gone for like… twenty minutes” you teased quietly.
“And it was terrible,” Leon complained in a tired voice.
His comment made you chuckle instantly. “That bad?”
“Everything without you is,” Leon replied innocently as he buried his face deeper against your neck, breathing in your scent in a way that made your eyes flutter shut for a second, warmth stirring deep in your chest.
You tried elbowing him lightly, but Leon only sighed dramatically and held you even closer.
“Leon!” you shrieked quietly. “Luna will see us!”
“See what?” he asked against your skin, sounding far too innocent. “That her dad loves her mom?”
Heat immediately rushed to your face at his comment. “Oh my God, you are stupid,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you elbowed his chest playfully again.
This time Leon acted personally wounded by it. “So violent,” he complained under his breath, but still instead of pulling away he tightened his arms around your waist while his other hand wandered teasingly across your torso, he stopped when he finally found the swell of your breasts and grazed it slowly with his thumb, making your breath hitch embarrassingly fast.
“Fuck, Leo—” you breathed out, instinctively pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease the warmth spreading through your body.
Leon chuckled deeply; as he knew what he was doing, slowly he leaned closer to your ear and spoke in that rough voice that always made your entire brain stop functioning. “I wanna take you right here,” he murmured; “bend you over this counter until all you can think about is me.”
Your entire body short-circuited at his comment, a faint flush spreading all over your body, “Leon Scott Kennedy—”
Just then, you heard tiny footsteps marching toward the kitchen. Leon groaned instantly, slumping his chin onto your shoulder as he gave your breast one last teasing squeeze before you swatted his hands away like he was a pesky fly.
Leon chuckled softly against your ear as he settled for holding your waist instead. A second later, Luna appeared dramatically at the kitchen entrance holding one of her stuffed animals upside down.
You knew she was coming here but still physically jumped away from Leon in horror, like you’d just been caught doing something illegal by your parents.
Leon, completely unhelpful as always, looked far too amused by your panic.
But thank God Luna didn’t seem to notice anything.
You shot Leon a glare sharp enough to kill, already deciding you were absolutely going to murder him later, lovingly, of course.
“Daddy,” she said again, still staring at Leon suspiciously, “Mr. Buttons threw up again.”
Silence, the silence afterward her comment made you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from laughing. Leon stared at her for a long moment before dragging a tired hand down his face. “Sweetie… that’s a stuff toy.”
“No,” Luna argued confidently, clutching the poor teddy bear tighter as she stepped towards Leon with hushed tears in her eyes, “he threw up. Can you fix him?”
Leon sighed and it was the sigh of a man who had survived literal bioweapons only to lose against a five-year-old’s imagination. “Alright,” he muttered dramatically, crouching down in front of her. “Let me examine the patient.”
Luna gasped. “Is he dying?”
“Not really. But he has a severe cotton explosion,” Leon replied seriously, turning the toy around like an actual medic while you nearly choked trying to hold back your laughter.
Luna looked horrified. “Save him, Daddy!”
“I’ll do my best,” Leon said solemnly, giving Luna a dramatic fake salute, which makes you chuckle instantly, leon glancing at you narrowing his eyes; so instead you cover it with a loud cough.
Leon smiled afterwards at you his gaze softening as he turned his attention towards her again and before he could even stand properly again, Luna grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the living room with all her tiny strength while he allowed himself to be dragged away unwillingly. “C’mon! Hurry!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he groaned dramatically as he gave you one last look over his shoulder, giving you a “Save me” smile but you just stuck your tongue out at Leon, which made him grin stupidly big.
“Later,” Leon muttered under his breath and turned away; as your daughter finally managed to pull him towards the living room, leaving you all alone; and just like that, the kitchen fell quiet again.
Now standing there alone, your cheeks felt warm and red from laughing, the aroma of dinner still swirling softly through the kitchen. Hearing Leon, your goofball husband, playing with your daughter in the other room made you realize maybe… this is what heaven felt like.
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“Leon’s SO jealous of Ada” I’ve written about it before but what if an older, RE9 Ada meets Leon’s spouse and holds a deep respect for them? She realizes that they love Leon so deeply and can give him what she never could.
Bonus points if Ada and Leon run into each other and Ada scolds him for being in his fifties and not being home with his spouse
