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This blog primarily covers Resident Evil content.

On this page you will find SFW and NSFW content. 21 y/o. Each post will be labelled and flagged accordingly. You are solely responsible for the media you consume online.

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WHAT YOU WILL FIND HERE:

• One shots, drabbles, multi-chapter fics, writing challenges, request responses, & more.

All content within a piece will be disclosed in the “contains” note. However, there is certain content you will never find mentioned. This is non-negotiable, and any requests containing this will be declined.

BANNED CONTENT:

• Minors, non-consensual intimacy, “teacher/student” pairings, age play, & more. If you’d like to submit a request but have questions, feel free to contact me.

Please do not reupload, edit, or claim my writing as your own. Additionally, do not feed my content to a chatbot. If you would like a specific scenario, I would much rather write it for you. Do not be afraid to ask.

FAN OF THE DIVIDERS? FIND WHAT I USE HERE:

The Reader is supposed to handle them both and at some point, she falls on top of Chris and accidentally grinds against him, giving him the unwanted hard-on? Needless to say, the things get a bit steamy after their shared moment of sweat (low-key expanding to the more, the merrier) 🤭

I feel like it’s such a rarity to encounter any Wesker x Reader x Chris fics - we need them desperately more in the fandom, I love their heated rivalry 😭 Thank you very much!

Thank you, I appreciate that a lot! It’s always nice to hear that people enjoy my writing.

Imagine Wesker intruding on fem!Reader (she can be s/o or he’s just interested in her) watching and touching herself to the porn, but not a typical straight one! It’s gay porn and these guys look very similar to him and Chris. Wesker tries to leave, ashamed a bit of the hard-on he got, but the Reader notices him and offers to take care of him 👀

I’d be forever indebted if you write a oneshot like this, I feel like this man is just jumping between being an alpha male and the silliest being in the world 😭 Can be any Wesker tbh and any place, it’s all up to you!

CONTAINS: Zeno x F!Reader, NSFW, smut, established relationship, spontaneous, gun play (fully consensual), dark content, oral (giving), swallowing, brief psychological teasing, no real danger. Do not read if you have sensitivity towards weapons as they are mentioned throughout. You may find this theme uncomfortable.

SYNOPSIS: The duration of time you’d spend apart from Zeno would vary depending on the complexity of his mission. Luckily enough, he has what remains of the week to spend with you after returning from previous operations. As things heat up, you find yourself trying something new for the first time. A test of trust, proving how much faith you have in him.

REQUEST: My response to this request.

With the latest mission drawing to a close, Zeno returns home for the remainder of the week. You always look forward to his arrival; the two of you rarely get time together, with him usually away, and he refuses to risk bringing you into danger by letting you accompany him. Although it’s in your best interest, you wish he’d change his mind.

Curled up on the sofa, you flick through the TV stations, patiently awaiting the sound of him at the door. It was getting late—he called to say he wouldn’t be long, but a few minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two. You grew tired and let your eyes rest, eventually drifting into a deep slumber. Unbeknownst to you, Zeno returns around half an hour later after you had dozed off. Stepping inside the apartment, he sheds his leather coat by the door. The light from the TV illuminated your body, and he made his way over. Crouched in front of you, he whispered his usual greeting, fingers gently stroking your cheek. Coming home to you was the only source of warmth he had. In Zeno’s world of work, there was no appeal for lust or love, though he had always been an entitled man. He wants it all, regardless of what others claim is right or wrong.

He leans in and plants a peck on your forehead, causing you to stir. As your eyelids peel open, your eyes lock with his. It took you a few seconds to process before a smile spread across your face, and you dragged him closer by the shirt. He stumbles forward and his lips meet yours, held in a passionate kiss directed by you. You were savouring the taste of him on your tongue, almost forgetting what he feels like. Eventually, he breaks away and straightens his attire, flicking on the light switch.

“Welcome back,” You hum, now standing from the sofa. “How was it?”

“Not bad. I need to get undressed.” Zeno takes you by the forearm, pulling you into the bedroom with him.

“You’re late tonight.” You take a seat on the edge of the bed, gaze locked onto him as he discards his blazer and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

“I had to collect something.”

“At this time?” No average store stays open past 10 PM, and you’re intrigued to see what he brought home.

“That’s right,” Zeno turns around, and his arms slip out of his shirt. He reaches down, grabs a box from the floor, and places it in your lap. “Take a look.”

Curious, you open the lid and remove the cloth which covers the contents. Beneath the layers of protective wrapping is a gun, visibly new judging by quality. You run your finger along the cold metal, but before you could lift it from the box, Zeno intervenes. He takes the gun into his hand, first pointing it at the wall, then resting the muzzle against your forehead—the same place he had left a peck earlier. He wildly grins, flashing his teeth; nothing excites him more than danger.

“What do you think?” Zeno seems proud, his arsenal of weapons expanding each time he comes home from a mission.

“It looks nice. Good pick.”

“It’s a single-shot handgun. Beautiful,” His lips curve up, eyes fixed on both you and the gun while delivering the compliment. “High firepower. It’s enough to blow a skull to pieces.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with it.” You placed your hand on top of his, lowering the gun to your lips.

“Careful,” Zeno steadies his trigger finger. “It’s loaded.”

“For luck,” You kiss the muzzle while still glancing up at him, noticing his expression shift. “It’ll be like I’m there with you.”

“Oh?” Zeno tilts his head to the side, toying with your bottom lip using the tip of the gun.

Sensing his interest, you open your mouth and he slowly inserts the barrel. Your lips wrap around the metal, tongue grazing the embossed patterns. You trust him, not caring how close his finger is to the trigger. His chest begins to heave, not anticipating such a lewd sight. Edging closer to the back of your throat, your gag reflex triggers and you jerk backwards, causing his grasp on the grip to shake. He grunts, holding it in your throat for you to adjust. You grew flustered from ogling his half-naked body, admiring the veins which trailed up his forearms, and his biceps which were twitching when flexed. Meanwhile, he smirked at the sight of saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth, and the tears which dampened your eyelashes.

“How does it feel to play with guns?” Zeno prods the muzzle against the inside of your cheek. His question was rhetorical, knowing you’re unable to reply. “This is the only way you’ll handle them.”

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Zeno pulls the barrel from your mouth, wiping it clean on his pants. “You understand now. The adrenaline, and the power.”

He drags the muzzle down the centre of your chest, resting it where your heart resides. Pressing it against you firmly, he can feel the thumps from the organ beating rapidly. You close your eyes momentarily, hearing the sound of him fiddling with his belt. The buckle drops onto the carpet and he hurriedly unzips his fly. With a few light slaps delivered by him against your cheek, you finally bring your attention back to him. You crave more of him, your arousal pushing you to test your limits of restraint. Unable to hold yourself back, you give in to your urges and slide his pants down, revealing the imprint in his boxers.

That sultry chuckle which emerged from him witnessing your neediness made your stomach flip. Switching places with you, Zeno dragged you to your feet and sank into the mattress. You fell to your knees in front of him, head resting against his thigh. He frees his dick from the confines of his boxers, already erect, waiting on you. You trailed kisses up his shaft, and he shuddered. When you take him into your mouth, he presses the gun to your head, along with wrapping his hand tightly in your hair. He lowers you down, setting the pace for what he expects.

“I can feel you smiling,” He comments with a haughty visage on display. “I never knew you’d enjoy it this much. It seems I mislabeled your fragility.”

Taking control of the scenario, he bobs your head for you, groans increasing in volume. He threw his glasses onto the pillow and let his head fall back, relishing in the pleasure. There were huge amounts of pent-up frustration dormant in his body, and this form of relief was something he desperately needed. It doesn't take him long to reach his climax, continuing to whisper dirty praise about how filthy you were acting. He was teasing you, his eyes half-lidded.

He relaxed his hold on your hair and allowed you to take the lead through his build-up. Your tongue twirls around his tip, and the coil built in his core snapped. He moans your name under his breath, watching you pull away and swallow the cum he deposited. While your gazes are fixed on one another, he pulls the trigger of the gun which was facing you and you squeeze your eyes shut. Unable to hold back his snicker, he tossed the gun aside and you bit your tongue, unamused by his antics.

“It was empty,” He cups your cheeks in his hands, and you shove him backwards onto the mattress, falling on top of him. “I had to see your face.”

“You’re evil,” You shake your head, but you can’t hold back your smile while hearing his hearty laughter. “I had a feeling it wasn't loaded. You’d never let me risk being hurt.”

“Wise observation. I’m glad you trust me that much.” In a silent apology, he tightens his arms around you and cuddles you into his chest. He slips his hand under the loose t-shirt you wear to lounge in, resting it on the small of your back, and his index finger traces circular patterns around the same patch of skin.

CONTAINS: Soft Rookie!Leon Kennedy x Reader headcanons (SFW)

ROOKIE!LEON — Who spent his first big paycheque entirely on you, the other essentials he’d need to spend his money on completely slipping his mind. Although you were overjoyed by the gifts, he had to get through the next month on scraps and sheer determination. When you offer him money for gas, he declines almost immediately and tells you it was his fault. He claims you shouldn’t have to worry about fuelling his car for him when he had been the irresponsible one, though he eventually caves in when you threaten to send the gifts back to the store for a refund. It was a cruel, yet necessary win.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who is a massive dork. His humour is terrible, but it’s part of what makes him so special. He would do anything, no matter how stupid, if it put a smile on your face. Whenever you’re upset about something, he will always listen to you before he talks. Sometimes things can’t be solved by humour, and instead he will hold you for as long as you need. You always nudge him to shut up when he tells you how amazing you are and that you can get through anything, but it doesn’t stop him. To him, it’s nothing but the truth—he wishes you would see it too. Corniness isn’t a word in Leon’s book.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who hates to argue with you. Any time a conversation heads down the wrong path, he will back down to avoid conflict. However, there are certain situations where he finds it difficult to hold his tongue, bringing out a side of himself he hates. Raising his voice at you ruins his day, and he knows he’s better than to talk to you that way instead of communicating intricately. If he hurts you, he willingly spends the night on the sofa, although you always beckon him to come back to bed. It’s impossible to stay mad at him for long, and it feels empty without him there to hold.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who came home full of life, more excited than anything to tell you he got the police job. He was always training hard inside and outside of academy hours, and you couldn’t be more proud of him for achieving his dreams. Stories of how the other officers were so welcoming to him throughout the whole journey brought a smile to your face; you know he’ll be in good hands when he starts his first day. To celebrate, the two of you went out to the movie theatre and spent the rest of the night at home, enjoying a dinner that you prepared together.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who was planning to marry you at such a young age since he was certain you were the one. He knew you didn’t want to rush to marriage, and he respected that. Instead of an engagement ring, he surprised you one evening with a beautiful promise ring, alongside a small gift bag with a handwritten letter inside. He adored you with every ounce of his being, and he knew that no one else would ever compete with you. With the way he talks about you to his friends and colleagues, they were certain you were a deity living amongst the rest of humanity.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who loves to be needy when it comes to physical touch. Whether it be a hand on the small of your back, his arm wrapped around you, or just holding hands, he craves the small, innocent pieces of intimacy. It makes him feel like he’s closer to you, and also keeps you well within in his sights. His protectiveness is not aggressive, but he will always make sure that no one steps too far out of line when he is there by your side. Being trained as a cop means he knows how to put up a good fight, but it never comes down to that when he handles any mishaps; Leon tries to avoid physical alterations at all costs. However, he certainly would step out of his comfort zone if anyone were to lay a finger on you, no matter the excuse.

ROOKIE!LEON — Who finds peace in your presence. With all of the stress and exhaustive work he goes through, his place of comfort became your arms. Whether he needed a long talk, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to listen to him explain his frustrations, he would always do so while resting his head on your chest. You would twirl his hair around your fingers while he speaks and lightly scratch his scalp and back. It soothes him like nothing else can, and he calms down shortly after letting everything out. He’s conscious of the weight of his body while laying on you, but on days when you can tell he needs it, you encourage him to rest on you for the remainder of the evening.

Can I have a small request? Are you also writing scenarios for 3P (threesomes)? If yes, I’d like to ask for some Wesker x Reader x Zeno - I’m sure Wesker if he was still alive, would definitely try to prove he’s the better one 😂 If you don’t like 3P, can I ask for the jealous sex with Wesker (can be after his lover had an affair with Zeno, mistaking him for Wesker? 👉👈

Thank you in advance!

Thank you, Anon! I appreciate it a lot.

CONTAINS: Manipulation, F!Reader, abuse of power, sadism, some smut, p in v, hair pulling, no aftercare

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who found everything about you peculiar from the first day you got your badge. Many of the other staff members avoided his office, with warning, yet he would find you outside of his door every morning, popping your head through to wish him a good day. Typically, he couldn’t stand people coming into his personal space or interrupting his thought process. He would never lift his gaze from the files in front of him, but your words didn’t fall on deaf ears. Part of him is surprised that you seemed to notice it.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who personally accompanies you during team missions. Since you’re still new, it’s best for you to be with the Captain. There was a lot you learned from Wesker; he would begrudgingly train you in basic survival techniques and knowledge to benefit you. He couldn’t stand having you glued to his side, so he would always advise you to make your own way. However, what you didn’t know is that he would stalk behind you to make sure you didn’t fall into harm’s way, leaving no trace of his presence as he lurked in the shadows. You always found it odd how you would meet back up with him in the same place, around the same time.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who has a major staring problem. While you’re sitting at your desk, writing up field reports, you swear you feel someone’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. As you turn around, you find Wesker glaring through his office window. Despite being caught, he doesn’t react. He remains locked on you, and you quickly return your attention to the computer monitor. You think it’s slightly creepy, but you brush it off. Wesker always has strange habits, but no one dares to question them.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who suddenly started dumping more and more tasks on you. It was an inhumane workload, and nobody else in the office had this much to deal with. After working up the courage, you decide to confront him. He simply looks up at you and bluntly tells you that you are capable of managing it if you focus more during your shifts. On top of that, he assigns you with extra unpaid office hours under his supervision after the others are dismissed. You curl your fist in frustration, your eyes welling with tears as you tell him you understand, though you could’ve sworn you saw a smirk tug on his lips when you turned to leave.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who took it upon himself to intently study your behaviours. In his desk drawer is a notebook with a detailed chart tracking your emotional state throughout the day, along with the ways you react while dealing with specific scenarios. When you complete all of your tasks, he praises you and rubs your shoulder. If you don’t finish your tasks, he extends your overtime by another hour. Eventually, he has clicker-trained you. When you don’t receive his praise after completing the reports, he grins wickedly as that fragile, needy expression washes over your face.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who became completely infatuated with you—which was a problem. This obsession caused him to stray from his objective, but no matter how hard he tried, he was already stuck in this new routine he created. You needed to disappear. When the other S.T.A.R.S. members finished their shift, he called you into his office. It was his full intent to rid himself of you before you unintentionally foil his plans. You stood in front of his desk with that nauseating smile on your face and spoke that warm greeting you always used.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who couldn’t fire you. Instead, he fell to his urges and bent you over the desk. All of his paperwork fluttered to the ground as he pinned your head down firmly. He was rabid. The tights you wore with your off-duty outfit were torn to shreds, your underwear dragged aside as he rubbed his tip against your soaking hole. You were begging him to hurry, but the more you droned on, the longer he teased. It was the most insufferably pleasurable experience you’d had, and the force with which he thrust into you made saliva pool from your slightly parted lips. The paranoia you felt about a cleaner walking in was dismissed, your ability to think straight utterly obscured. You were mewling his name under your breath when he came in you, and he dragged you back by the hair. In truth, you had been fantasising about him for a while now. His grip was painful and you winced, now drowning in the brief, open-mouthed kiss. Shortly after, he kicked you out with no further discussion and sent you home for the night.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who finally made you break. The next day in work was your last; you quit on the spot. You stood silently with Wesker inside his office after your outburst, then slapped him hard before storming out the door. The sunglasses on his face dropped to the floor, but that was the least of his concerns. He held a hand against the stinging flesh on his cheek and smiled. You were smart, and he admired that about you. Although you were furious with him for his actions, you left your contact details on his desk. Now that you were gone, he could focus on his original objective: destroying S.T.A.R.S. to obtain the data he needs.

S.T.A.R.S!WESKER — Who was soon revealed to be behind the events that occurred at Spencer Mansion. Wesker had fled the scene after the plan worked in his favour. It was late at night when you heard shuffling from outside your door. Courageously, you clambered out of bed and flipped the lights on in the main hall. On the floor lay an envelope addressed to you. Without hesitation, you tore it open and read the letter inside. You had been offered a position to work for the Umbrella Corporation, signed off by none other than Albert Wesker. After all, he’s a man who grows far too attached to routines.

Drabbles for an upcoming multi-chapter fic featuring EX-HUSBAND!LEON x F!Reader.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who still cannot believe the divorce was finalised regardless of the several years that passed. Memories of you never left him, and he’s grateful that you agreed to keep in contact. He’s haunted by what could have been. By the time of the divorce, Leon’s depression intensified to the extent he stopped turning up to work, confining himself inside his apartment for weeks with no communication. Several of his colleagues were sent to perform well-being checks on him, finding hundreds of unfinished letters addressed to you scattered across his desk and bedroom floor. The perfume you left behind is almost empty on his nightstand, the side you used to sleep on occupied by the plushie he bought for you during your first anniversary together, almost fifteen years ago. It smelled like you—doused in your favourite fragrance.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who lacked the heart to face you again until he put the bottle down for good. That’s what drove the marriage apart; part of him hates that Chris was right, but he is forever in his debt for pulling him out of the depths he sunk to. All he wanted was to see you, feel the warmth of your hand when it’s linked with his at night after a long day at work. He misses you terribly, and it makes it so much harder to not want to drown out every emotion to block the pain. Every bottle of alcohol was emptied and thrown into the recycling, now replaced with fruit juices and protein shakes to redirect his urges.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who calls you every night before going to bed, being sure to inform you about his day and asking for every detail about yours. He hurls all sorts of questions at you to prolong the duration of the phone call, keeping you on the line with him for as long as he can. Your voice always made him smile, you could hear it whenever he spoke. It was hard to say goodbye, although hearing your soft “I love you too” before the disconnect sound cuts you out gives him enough drive to get through the next day just to hear it all again. Even though you’re not with him, he still whispers a final goodnight before closing his eyes, as if you were at his side.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who never removed his wedding ring. No matter what the occasion was, he made sure it was visible on his finger. He often received puzzled looks from colleagues, though they didn’t dare question his habits while he was still recovering from everything he was going through. Whenever he was approached by women, he’d automatically turn them away, flashing his hand before shutting any further advances down. His heart still belongs to you. He finds people’s attempts on him extremely off putting, largely affecting the way he perceives that person. Snapping at people took a lot usually, but any flirting would bring him to his breaking point in an instant.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who finally gathered the courage to meet up with you after a year of sobriety. Food was on him at the restaurant you spent a lot of your relationship binging. He didn’t need to glance at the menu to know what you’d order, he remembered every single detail of your preferences. In his eyes, you looked as beautiful as ever on the opposite end of the table, and it seemed like you were enjoying your time in his company too. That was the first night he brought you back home to his apartment. You seen the state it was in, and while it is certainly cleaner than it once was, you knew it would be bad for his wellbeing to remain this way. Together, you worked on removing the mold build up from the corners of the ceiling and sweep the floors and counters with antibacterial wipes.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who was overcome with happiness when you agreed to stay over that same night. Before getting ready for bed, he prepared you some toast and a warm tea, serving it with the sweetest smile. You could see how much better he looked compared to the day you left; it’s clear he’d been working intensely in the gym due to huge bicep muscles begging to burst free from his lazy white tee. It wasn’t part of your plan to end up underneath him in his bed, gasping for air between kisses, but you couldn’t pull yourself from him. His hands were all over you, the firm grip on your hips likely to leave bruises by tomorrow morning. All you could see in that moment was the man you fell in love with.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who burst into tears when he noticed the wedding ring he spent months picking still on your finger. Completely inconsolable. He turned his face to the side to hide it from you, though it didn’t do much when you were already straddling his lap, half of your clothes on the bedroom floor. You hold his cheek and gently whisper, unsure of what happened for him to fall apart this way. It broke your heart seeing him with swollen lips and damp eyelashes; his hair was shielding him for the most part until you combed it back with your fingers. All he could say was that he loved you, and it caused tears to prick in your eyes too. His chest was heaving when he eventually looked at you again, pulling you in to cuddle. Your hand trailed down his forearm until it eventually found his, and your fingers intertwined.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who was almost shocked to feel you snuggling him when he woke up the next morning, assuming the events of last night were too good to be true. He strokes your hair with the back of the hand to test if it was reality, and your arms squeezed him tighter. An hour passed until you stirred from your sleep, and Leon never moved an inch so you would get all the rest you need. Without straying from old habits, he kissed your cheek and asked how you rested. Things felt great, and you felt your heart tug when you heard him ask for another chance.

“Oh, Leon…” You mumble, shaking your head as your lips creep into a smile you wish you could suppress.

“Please. Let me show you how much better I’ve gotten.”

You couldn’t say no.

EX-HUSBAND!LEON — Who was diagnosed with rapidly developing Raccoon City Syndrome two years after rekindling his relationship with you. Every day grew harder, and you knew you had to do everything you could to take care of him during his medical episodes. It was becoming terrifying; the blood he’d cough up becoming more viscous as the virus grew stronger, but you knew you had to be brave for him. You would fasten his watch every day before work and help him dress on days when the symptoms were unbearable. It was killing him to become a burden to you for a second time after all the work he put in to be better.

WALKING DISTANCE — ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The DSO assigned you to accompany Leon on another mission; a rise of reports involving bio-terror operations are flooding the system causing several special units to urgently deploy. However, it was during this mission that you were forced into a compromising position, leaving him solely responsible to finish this as well as ensuring you make it out alive.

CONTAINS: Old!Leon (Requiem), reckless Agent!F!Reader, descriptions of death, mentions of trauma, unofficial relationship, romantic tension, plot, heat of the moment, pieces of fluff & angst.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

Darkness clouds the entire building, it is yet another area with no remaining signs of life; this feeling of dread was familiar to all agents, yet the unsettling nature of it never truly goes away. You were inside of an abandoned laboratory, the eerie silence was deafening as your footsteps came to a halt. Leon sweeps his flashlight through each room, the remnants of shattered glass and spilled chemicals tainted the floor with colour and texture. This place has been through major turmoil, almost making you wonder what had happened to cause this level of destruction. You continue to press forward at Leon’s side, steadying your pistol after every corner you turn; you could never be sure what to expect, but the last thing you want is to encounter the unexpected with your guard down.

“Just how big is this place?” Leon breaks the silence, and you glance over at him.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

While Leon stops to talk through comms, you decide to head straight on. There was no time to waste, and certainly little to spare. The hallway you entered had partial electricity still, the lights flickering off every few seconds. You’re searching for a tube containing specific antibodies to combat a new virus strain, and the only place it could be is somewhere in this dilapidated ruin. A sign on the wall next to a half-opened door reads “Cold Room”, and from your basic briefing knowledge, you’re certain this could be where the tube is. You connect through to Leon’s line, being sure to inform him of your whereabouts before stepping inside.

Desks are littered with open notebooks and abandoned computers. You catch a glimpse of blood smeared onto the tempered glass which looks through to the giant freezer, what seems to be handprints dragging down before abruptly ending. There’s no trace present of who this blood could belong to. Taking a deep breath in, you push the metal door and the bitter drop in temperature slaps you across the face. You could see your breath and were beginning to lose the sensation in your fingers after only a few seconds of being inside. Hurrying through to the back of the room, you scan each chamber seeing nothing but empty glass vials. When your hope had reached its lowest, it was then you saw it—labelled and sealed. Without a second thought, you pull the handle and tear the vial from its rack.

A harrowing wail tore through the halls—an alarm must have triggered due to the unauthorised access of the equipment. You reach to talk through your in-ear monitor, although Leon had already caught up to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he begins sprinting with you, barging through the corridors before the auto-lock protocol initiates. Obnoxiously loud crashing could be heard from behind and a roar pierces your eardrums. It was thunderous, and it only urged you to move quicker.

“What was that?” You frantically inquire, now at a dead end hallway in front of an elevator.

“Do you want to stick around and find out?” Leon grunts, prying the doors open with his hands and shoving you inside.

His fingers slam into the buttons as the roaring creature races closer, rapidly on your trail. Eventually, the doors shut and the elevator jerks up. You watch as the floor numbers pass by, realising you’re heading to the roof of the building automatically.

“Guess this is a one-stop ride.” Leon pants, his hand on the wall to stabilise himself while he regains his composure.

“Leon,” You turn to him, clutching the vial. “Take it. If anything happens—”

“Don’t talk like that.” He lectures, but you persist.

Begrudgingly, he takes the vial and slips it inside of his pocket. What little moment of peace you shared was lost, and the doors opened to the outside. Leon lends you his hand to help you out, and as soon as your foot reaches the surface, the elevator collapses, plummeting to the basement. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, that familiar metallic taste in your mouth. Leon squeezes your hand, offering you a reassuring smile.

Leaping through the air appeared to be a large, mutated animal of some sort. It had four legs and towered over you like an elephant would, yet possessed the head shape and general body features of a wild cat. Its fangs poked out of its bloody mouth, almost larger than the size of an average human. A shockwave from the sheer power of the roar knocked both of you to the ground, along with the pistol from your hands. Leon grabs his magnum and quickly rolls out of the pouncing beast’s path before he could shoot. Now separated from you, he fires several rounds into the back of the creature as it corners you against the ledge.

“Run!” Leon exclaims, further weakening the creature as its jaw swings open wildly. It’s saliva was coating you, and you were able to see the remnants of once human flesh lodged in between its teeth.

As you go to dash past the mutated beast, its paw extends and blocks your path. There was no other route to take, the only way out of this is jumping from the overhang behind. Leon rushes closer as you step on top of the barricade, noticing the sorry smile you flashed before you dropped off the ledge.

“No!” His eyes widen, and the grip on his Requiem loosens.

There was no possible outcome in which you could survive a drop from twenty flights high, and he had helplessly watched as you threw yourself to the bottom. It shouldn’t have ended this way. With what little power remains in his body, Leon walks forward and the beast now sets its sight on him. His grip on the hatchet he carried was causing his knuckles to turn white, and in one fell swoop he ripped it through the exposed vital organs of the creature, earning its cry of defeat. Leon drops to the floor with it, resting his back against the low concrete balcony wall. He holds his head in his hands, his thoughts immediately directed back to his rookie days. All the faces of people he lost flash through his mind, alongside one particular event he experienced almost identical to this. It feels as though the torment of it all will never end; all of this training and he’s still as weak as he once was. He failed you.

Forcing himself to face the reality of the situation, Leon struggles to his feet and peers over the edge. He braces himself for the sight he’s expecting to see, although when he eventually opens his eyes, your body couldn’t be found on the ground. Down the side of a building trails the cord from your repel tool—it appears to be firmly wrapped around a piece of overhanging metal. At the bottom of it dangles you, and while you’re still alive, it’s clear you took a few hits on the way down from impact with the wall. Leon turns his in-ear on and tries to make contact with you.

“You okay?” The tone he uses is soft, his eyes remaining glued to where you are.

“Just hanging around,” You’re weak, coughing between words. “Do you have the antibodies?”

“I do. I’m coming to get you.”

“Leon…” A faint burst of laughter caused by relief slips from your mouth. The metal piece that had been holding you up collapses, causing you to drop the three meters.

Remaining immobile, you fall unconscious from the drop and lie limp on the grass. Leon sets up for a descent down the side of the building, the comms device no longer receiving signals from any line. The wind breezes against his back as he descends, eventually making it to where you are. He scoops you in his arms, tightening his hold on you in an embrace while kneeling momentarily.

“I got you,” He whispers, wiping the dirt from your skin with his thumb. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lifting you from the ground, there’s no other option but for him to trek back towards the city. Comms lines are still down and this place is secluded from civilization. It would take a while, but he’d rather wear himself down to the bone and get you medical attention than stay idle.

Hours pass of him travelling down the same winding road, the scenery sparse and a majority of the wildlife dead. The buzz of a connecting call rings through the ear piece and a helicopter is seen approaching from afar. BSAA troops had been sent to Leon’s active location by Sherry Birkin, his appointed communications officer. From the arrival of the BSAA, Leon loads you in the helicopter and sits by your side during the flight back, his hand clutching yours.

By the time of return, Leon was utterly deshevelled. His hair had become flat from the sweat that was pouring out of him and he was fast asleep on the floor beside your stretcher. You stir from your slumber and the first thing you notice is the head snuggled into your shoulder.

“Leon?” Your voice was quiet, yet it seemed to wake him immediately. It was obvious he was shattered from the bloodshot eyes he struggled to keep open.

“Yeah?” He still has hold of your hand; he kept it under his shirt to make sure you stayed warm.

“Thank you.”

Instead of replying, you felt a deep sigh hit the skin of your neck. He burrowed his head further in, planting a peck before pulling back to look at you. Your pupils were huge, likely due to the undiagnosed concussion you have from all of the bumps. Now hovering over you, he cups your face and draws you into a gentle kiss, holding you there for a few seconds. It was like heaven to feel him this way, and you were clinging to him as if you were afraid he’d disappear. You eventually break the connection, and a huge smile spreads from ear to ear.

“You can’t do that to me. I thought you were gone.” Leon warns, yet his fingers are still caressing your cheek.

“I know.”

“Remember it then. I’ll pick you up from the hospital and we can get dinner later if you’re okay.”

“Only if you bring me my purse.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He pulls out his set of keys, dangling the spare key you gave him in front of your face. When he leaves you to get checked out, he knows his first stop will be your place.