#the weekend

ೋ 'Cause I wanna keep you close.

ᩙ❤︎ ᩙ ꒱ # cw info𓈒⠀ ⋆ re4 ✷ !fempov — ⋆ leon s kennedy ⋆ fanfic ⋆ oneshot ⋆ leon x reader ⋆ re4 ༝ !reader ⋆ resident evil ⋆ infection ⋆ semi established relationship ⋆ third person .ᐟ (＞。☆)

꒰𓏼´ `𓏼 ྀིᥩ ꒱ # disclaimer𓈒 english isn't my native language there are probably spelling mistakes or sentences that don't make sense weep.. .ᐟ ◛♡

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The first thing she noticed was the way his hand trembled.

Not enough for anyone else to catch it. he was too controlled for that–but she’d been watching him for hours. Maybe longer. The village had gone quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that never meant safety, only the illusion of it. Smoke lingered in the air, clinging to his jacket, to his hair, to everything.

He leaned against the crumbling wall, head tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded like he was just tired.

He wasn’t.

“You’re doing it again,” she said softly.

One eye opened, sharp even through the haze. “Doing what?”

“Pretending nothing’s wrong.”

A faint smirk pulled at his lips, automatic, practiced. “That’s kind of my job.”

She didn’t smile back.

For a second, something flickered in his expression—annoyance, maybe, or resignation. Then it faded, replaced with that same calm mask he always wore.

“It’s just the infection,” he said, too casually. “I’ve got it under control.”

She stepped closer. “Your hand’s shaking.”

He looked down at it, like he hadn’t even noticed. The tremor had gotten worse, subtle pulses running through his fingers before he curled them into a fist.

“Adrenaline,” he replied.

“Don’t lie to me.”

That made him pause.

Not because he couldn’t come up with another excuse but because of how she said it. Not accusing. Not angry. Just… certain.

He exhaled slowly, pushing himself off the wall. “You should keep your distance.”

“No.”

“It’s not a suggestion.”

“And I’m not leaving you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The wind shifted, carrying distant sounds something breaking, something screaming but it all felt far away compared to the tension between them.

His gaze softened, just a fraction. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it.”

He hesitated.

That was new. He never hesitated.

“It’s not just… being sick,” he said finally, voice lower now. “It messes with your head. Makes you think things that aren’t yours. Feel things that aren’t yours.”

Her chest tightened. “Like what?”

His jaw flexed. He looked away. “Like hurting people you don’t want to hurt.” Silence settled between them.

She took another step closer anyway.

“Then we deal with it,” she said.

He laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. “You’re really not listening.”

“I am.” She stopped right in front of him now, close enough to see the faint strain around his eyes, the way his breathing wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

That shut him up.

Not because she was wrong.

Because she wasn’t.

His hand moved before he could stop it, hovering near her arm like he wanted to push her away—but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t trust himself to.

“You shouldn’t be this close,” he said again, softer this time.

“And you shouldn’t be alone.”

Something in him cracked at that.

It wasn’t obvious. No dramatic shift. Just a slight drop in his shoulders, a brief flicker of exhaustion breaking through the soldier he tried so hard to be.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” he murmured.

“Then tell me.”

He looked at her again.

Really looked this time.

Like he was memorizing her face.

Like he was already thinking about losing it.

“It gets worse,” he admitted. “The longer it’s in your system… the harder it is to stay in control.”

“And you think I’d just leave you to deal with that by yourself?”

“I think you should,” he said, almost sharply. “Before I give you a reason not to.”

She didn’t flinch.

“If you were going to hurt me,” she said quietly, “you would’ve already done it.”

That hit something deeper than she expected.

His expression tightened, something almost pained slipping through. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Because she trusted him.

Because even now infected, exhausted, barely holding it together he was still choosing to keep his distance instead of risking her safety.

Because every step he took away from her was proof he cared more than he’d ever say out loud.

“You’re still fighting it,” she said.

His breath caught, just for a second.

“That’s enough for me.”

The wind picked up again, brushing past them, stirring dust and ash. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang a warped, broken sound.

Time was running out.

He knew it.

She knew it.

and yet, neither of them moved.

“…You’re stubborn,” he muttered.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You noticed.”

Another pause.

Then, slowly carefully his hand lifted again.

This time, he didn’t stop himself.

His fingers brushed against her wrist, light at first, like he was testing something fragile. Like he expected her to pull away.

She didn’t.

The contact was brief. Barely anything.

But it grounded him more than he wanted to admit.

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt just enough to feel real.

“I don’t want to lose control,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I can promise I won’t leave when it gets hard.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

That might’ve been the most dangerous thing she could’ve said.

Not because it made things worse—

But because it made him want to believe it.

When he opened them again, the tension was still there. The fear. The uncertainty.

But something else had slipped in too.

Something quieter.

Something softer.

“…Stay close,” he said, almost reluctantly.

Her smile was small, but real this time. “I thought you wanted me to keep my distance.”

“I changed my mind.”

“For now?”

He huffed out a quiet breath. “Don’t push it.”

But his hand didn’t let go of her wrist.

he edge of the village, the door hanging half off its hinges. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of old blood. Leon shoved the door shut behind them with his shoulder, then leaned against it, breathing hard. The tremor in his hand had spread she could see it now in the subtle twitch of his jaw, the way his shoulders rose and fell too quickly.

“You okay?” she asked, voice low.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid down the door until he was sitting on the warped floorboards, legs stretched out. His head fell back against the wood with a dull thud. “Just… give me a minute.”

She knelt beside him, close enough that her knee brushed his thigh. The contact made his eyes snap open, that sharp blue gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that wasn’t entirely his own anymore.

“You’re burning up,” she murmured, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin was fever-hot, slick with sweat despite the chill in the air.

Leon caught her wrist again, but this time he didn’t push her away. He held it there, against his skin, like the coolness of her touch was the only thing anchoring him. “It’s spreading faster than I thought.”

His voice had dropped, rougher at the edges, laced with something darker than exhaustion. The infection wasn’t just in his blood it was crawling through his thoughts, twisting them into urges he fought with every breath. Hunger. Violence. And underneath it all, a raw, aching need that made his pulse throb visibly at his throat.

She didn’t pull back. Instead, she shifted closer, her free hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through the damp fabric of his jacket. “Tell me what it feels like.”

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. For a second, his grip loosened like he might let go, but then his fingers flexed, sliding up her arm in a slow, deliberate trail. The leather of his glove was gone he’d stripped it off earlier without her noticing and his bare skin was scorching against hers. “Like fire,” he said quietly. “Like something inside me wants out. Wants… everything.”

His thumb traced the inside of her elbow, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver through her despite the tension. It wasn’t aggressive. Not yet. But there was a hunger in the way he watched her now, pupils dilated, the blue of his irises ringed with something unnatural.

“You’re still you,” she whispered, leaning in until her forehead nearly touched his. “Fight it.”

A low sound escaped him—half groan, half laugh. “Easy for you to say.” His other hand came up, hesitant, fingers brushing the side of her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a gentleness that contrasted the heat rolling off him in waves. The pad of his thumb lingered at her jaw, stroking once, twice, like he was memorizing the texture of her skin.

The air between them thickened, heavy with unspoken things. His breathing had shallowed, chest rising and falling in time with hers. She could feel the subtle shift in him—the way his body leaned toward her, drawn in despite the warnings screaming in his head.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice barely a rasp now, “and I will.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she closed the last inch, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened as his control frayed. His mouth was hot, demanding in a way that made her stomach tighten. not forceful, but urgent, like he was pouring every ounce of restraint he had left into not taking more than she offered. One hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, holding her there as his tongue brushed hers, slow and deliberate, tasting of salt and smoke and something faintly metallic.

When they broke apart, both breathing harder, his forehead rested against hers. “Fuck… I shouldn’t—”

“You should,” she cut in gently, her hand slipping under the edge of his jacket, palm flattening against the heated skin of his abdomen. His muscles jumped under her touch, taut and quivering with the effort of holding back. She could feel the faint ridges of old scars, the way his body responded instantly, a low shudder running through him.

Leon’s eyes fluttered shut, a quiet groan vibrating in his chest as her fingers explored higher, tracing the lines of his torso with careful reverence. He was hard already she could feel the press of him against her hip when she shifted closer, straddling one of his thighs without fully settling her weight. The friction was minimal, but it drew another sound from him, deeper this time, his hips twitching up involuntarily.

“Not… too much,” he managed, even as his hand guided her closer, palm splaying across her lower back. The touch was possessive but restrained, fingers digging in just enough to feel the give of her body through her clothes. “I don’t know how long I can—”

“Then don’t think,” she whispered against his mouth, kissing him again, slower this time, letting the intimacy build in the quiet space between heartbeats. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, parting the fabric to expose more skin to the cool air. She leaned down, pressing open mouthed kisses along his collarbone, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath her lips.

Leon’s head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat. His hand in her hair tightened, not pulling, just holding, as another tremor ran through him this one different, laced with pleasure rather than pain. “You feel… too good,” he breathed, voice strained. “Like the infection wants this. Wants you.”

His response was a slow roll of his hips, pressing up against her with deliberate care, the hard length of him rubbing through layers of fabric in a way that made heat pool low in her belly. It wasn’t frantic. It was intimate, lewd in the way his breath hitched when she ground down lightly in return, in the quiet gasps they shared, in the way his free hand slipped under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her waist, thumb stroking just beneath the curve of her breast without pushing further.

They moved like that for long minutes, bodies rocking together in a slow, heated rhythm, clothes still mostly on, barriers that kept it from tipping into something he couldn’t come back from. Every touch was measured, every kiss lingering. His mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, sucking gently, tongue tracing the shell until she shivered and pressed closer.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, mirroring his earlier words.

A faint, breathless chuckle escaped him. “Yeah. Different reason now.”

“Fuck…” he breathed, forehead dropping to her shoulder. His mouth found the curve of her neck, open and wet, sucking lightly at the skin there as his hands explored the newly exposed expanse of her back and sides. Fingers traced her ribs, thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of her breasts, teasing without fully claiming. Every touch was reverent, almost worshipful, even as his breathing grew ragged.

She arched into him, fingers working now more hastily at the buttons of his shirt until it hung open. Her palms slid over his bare chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart, the way his muscles flexed and quivered under her touch. He was burning up, skin slick with sweat, every inch of him responding to her with a hunger that felt both his and not entirely his.

Leon helped her push the shirt off his shoulders, then his hands returned to her, cupping her breasts with a gentleness that belied the tension coiling in his body. His thumbs circled her nipples slowly, coaxing them to stiff peaks as he watched her face, drinking in every soft gasp and shiver. When he leaned in to take one into his mouth, the heat of his tongue made her moan quietly, her hands threading into his hair to hold him there.

He lavished attention on her with unhurried licks and gentle sucks, switching sides while his free hand slipped lower, popping the button on her pants and easing the zipper down. His fingers dipped inside, brushing over the damp fabric of her underwear, stroking along her folds through the thin material with feather light pressure. The lewd, wet sound of his touch filled the small space between them, making her hips twitch forward instinctively.

“So wet already,” he murmured against her skin, voice low and rough. “All for me?”

She nodded, breath hitching as he pushed the fabric aside and slid one finger along her slick entrance, circling her clit with deliberate care. The intimacy of it the slow build, the way he watched her reactions like they were keeping him grounded made the heat between them feel heavier, more charged.

Leon added a second finger, pumping slowly, curling them just right while his thumb continued its lazy circles. His mouth returned to her neck, kissing and nipping softly as he worked her open with patient, measured strokes. Every movement was controlled, even as his own arousal throbbed painfully against her thigh, leaking precum that dampened the front of his pants.

When she started to tremble and clench around his fingers, he eased off, withdrawing just enough to tug her pants and underwear down her legs. She helped him, kicking them aside, then reached for his belt. He let her undo it, hips lifting so she could push his pants and boxers down just enough to free him.

His cock sprang up, thick and flushed, the head glistening with pre cum. It twitched visibly when the cool air hit it, and Leon hissed through his teeth at the relief of being exposed. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking once from base to tip in a slow, firm pull that drew a deep, guttural groan from his throat. His head fell back against the door, eyes half-lidded as he watched her touch him.

“Easy,” he rasped, one hand covering hers to guide the pace keeping it slow, keeping it intimate. “Don’t want to… lose it too fast.”

He guided her up onto her knees, positioning the blunt head of his cock at her entrance. The heat of him was searing, sliding through her slick folds as he rubbed himself against her, coating himself in her arousal. The lewd, wet sounds made both of them breathe harder.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

When she did, he slowly pushed inside inch by careful inch stretching her open with a long, low groan that vibrated through his chest. The sensation was overwhelming: the burning heat of his infected body, the thick fullness, the way his hands gripped her hips with barely-restrained strength. Once he was fully seated, he stilled, forehead pressed to hers, both of them just breathing through the intensity.

“God… you feel perfect,” he murmured, voice strained. His hands stroked her thighs, her waist, soothing and grounding as he fought the urge to thrust hard and fast. Instead, he rocked up into her gently, setting a slow, deep rhythm that let her feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside her.

They moved together like that unhurried, intimate, bodies pressed flush. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands roaming her back and ass, squeezing softly as he guided her movements. Every roll of his hips was deliberate, hitting that spot inside her that made sparks dance behind her eyes. Soft gasps and quiet moans filled the room, the wet slide of skin on skin lewd but never frantic.

Leon’s mouth found hers again, kissing her deeply as the pace gradually built. His thrusts stayed controlled, but deeper now, each one pressing him right against her cervix with a subtle grind. Sweat slicked their bodies, making everything glide hotter, slicker. When the infection surged and his grip tightened, he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in like she was the only thing keeping him human.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her skin, the words slipping out raw and possessive, laced with that darker edge. “Right now… just mine.”

She clenched around him at the words, drawing a choked groan from him. He reached between them, thumb finding her clit again, circling with firm, steady pressure while he kept that slow, rolling rhythm. The dual sensation pushed her closer and closer until she came with a quiet cry, pulsing around his cock, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Only then did Leon let himself go a little more his thrusts growing slightly deeper, a little less measured, chasing his own release. With a low, broken moan muffled against her shoulder, he followed her over the edge, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, hot and thick, the heat of it flooding her in pulsing waves.

They stayed locked together afterward, trembling and breathless, his arms wrapped tightly around her as the aftershocks faded. Leon pressed soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere he could reach, his touch gentle once more.

“Still with me?” he asked, voice hoarse but softer now.

“Always,” she whispered, holding him close.

The infection was still there, humming under his skin, but for this moment, the connection between them felt stronger than the virus trying to claim him.

He didn’t let her go. Not yet

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