Request?

Request?

I need Leon starting to date a girl with curly hair and he LOVES her curls and tries to learn how to style them

i'm not sure how you want me to format this im sorry so i'll just write like a list of hcs GRRRRRRR but i love the curly hair stuff HEHHEEHHE

content: fluffy leon kennedy with fem curly-haired! reader

synopsis (?) : leon kennedy has a curly-haired girlfriend :3

-leon's hair has ALWAYS been straight ash so when he saw you and the way you took care of your curl he was like woah :0

-it's like a level of enlightenment to him lol (jk)

-this man will always look at you while he has the chance so you can expect him to pick up on your routines. sometimes he'll be present in the bathroom while you're doing your little hair pampering routine and he's like 'so what's that?' and points at a bottle and u have to explain it to him LMAO

-no matter what the length (hell you could be bald) leon loves your head because 1. it holds your pretty lil face 2. your HAIR

-and idk i just have a general hunch that this man just loves carding his fingers through your hair or your head a lot (as you can notice from my first works lol)

-and leon is MESMERIZED by your curls everytime. whenever leon is standing behind you at a queue or waiting for you to finish doing something, like say putting your makeup on, his hands will absentmindedly bounce on the ends of your curls and just watch them go boioioiioioing

-there was a time when you were at a night bar with leon and some other friends. you guys were sat on stools and your back was turned to him while you were conversing with your friend, and leon just kept bouncing the ends of your curly locks because it's like a satisfying fidget to him.

-he loves the shape, the texture, the way it feels in his fingers (especially when he pulls on it in bed oops im sorry hehe)

-and tbh what can i say? leon likes taking care of you and that can apply to different parts of your everyday life; before you go to sleep he reminds you to take your vitamins, and whenever you come home and he's there he will undo your shoelaces :3. but he will NEVER forget to brush your hair (especially if it's long as hell, he knows ur arms probably get tired brushing through it and applying product through it)

-if you were bashful at first and said it was okay, he insisted with a lighthearted and joking tone. he's like 'i got the strength for this c'mon gimme that brush NEOWWW'

-HE WILL PRINCESS YOU LIKE THIS SASSY PRINCESS OF A MAN WILL PRINCESS U

leon loves to approach his pretty girl while she's perched in front of the mirror. he sees you brushing your wet curly locks and, silently, walks up to you from behind. he's a rather silent man right now while he takes your hairbrush from your hands, your arm slowly stopping its brushing motions as you looked up at his reflection; him being behind you while his eyes are downcast to your locks. "and where's my love going?" he asks with a mild tease. he knows you're going out somewhere because you seem to smile a little more when you're anticipating some plans. you giggled while feeling leon gently brush your hair with tenderness. maybe by narration it sounds obscure, but he adores the back of your hair while you're rambling about your day so far and where you're heading off to next. "so she's a busy girl. hm?" leon grins slightly, eyes locked onto your soft hair while he helps in spreading moisturizing product (rather expensive product that leon willingly paid for u bc, well, he loves you like that) on your hair in moderate amounts, being careful not to accidentally pull your head back or something lol. his fingers tread and work caringly— and he even scratches his fingertips on your scalp lightly and briefly to top it off ♡ he continues the rest of the brief conversation with his thumb gently stroking your wispy baby hairs, and you're just so cute to him he just wants to eat u tbh

-and whether you want him to put some lil bows, ribbons, clips or extensions in it is up to you. you probably have an array of hair accessories and leon memorizes all of them. he knows when one is new and which ones are the ones you've always had in your dresser/vanity.

-speaking of, leon LOVES seeing you accessorize your hair. beads, hairclips, anything that furtherly charms your pretty hair literally makes him melt you have this man in an entirely different state of matter atp he just loves you sm argghh. one time you let him put some little butterfly clips in your hair after teaching him how they're clipped on and you had leon WHIPPED the entire time in front of that vanity ♡

-omfg and leon does this thing where whenever he's hugging or cuddling you from behind, he nuzzles his face in the back of your head and start inhaling your hair like you're some sort of freshly-washed pillow. it tickles a little for you and he can feel your frame repulsing or squirming in his arms but leon doesnt rlly care lol (he's kinda sorry)

-i feel like leon has more of a tendency to ruffle your curly hair if it's short, maybe like above shoulder length or something.

A LITTLE DEATH

FEATURING: vendetta!leon x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: his mission partner meant everything to him, and Leon promised to keep you safe—even if it meant dying for you. what he didn’t expect was that his selflessness would bring about something more profound.

WARNINGS: minors, blank and ageless blogs don’t interact. alcohol consumption, agent!reader, unspecified age difference (but nothing too much), porn with miserable plot, sopping wet cat energy GUESS FROM WHO, mutual pining, angst, mostly in Leon’s pov, graphic descriptions of canonical-violence, realistically reader’s scared shitless, that one trope where they step in front to protect you, mild descriptions of blood & scars, near death experience, flashbacks to RE2, isolation, tending to wounds, sexual tension, hand jobs, switch!Leon, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, foreplay, fingerfucking, unprotected p in v, a little bit cockwarming, sex with feelings, different positions (2), creampie, usage of pet names, praise, attempted aftercare

WORD COUNT: 20k (12.2k plot + 8.3k smut)

STICKY NOTE: WHO’S UP PUTTING LEON IN A SITUATION!! WHO’S UP NOT LETTING THE DUDE REST!!! MEEEE :33 i’m genuinely so sorry it took me a while to post a new fic bc some issues got in my way during the process, also the miserable word count of this tested my patience. proofread and i played with my pacing a little. title and vibes from a little death + rec song if you wanna check it out! thank you for readinggg :3 i’m wishing all of you a cozy, happy holidays no matter how you might spend them ♡

Human life is expendable. In this world, it always has been. If someone dies, they’ll simply be replaced.

In a way, it’s like the alcohol Leon consumes. Sometimes he takes just a few sips, and sometimes he drinks until he’s wasted, but when he’s done, he just grabs another drink. The liquor does well to remind him of the fragility of life in more ways than one. He takes a sip, and even though he knows it’s slowly killing him, when the intoxicating buzz fills his head, all he can feel is heaven.

Life is so much better when you’ve got something to take the edge off.

Leon pulled his flask from his pocket, unscrewing the lid and taking a long swig, relishing in the burn of the alcohol as it traveled down his throat. The smell of it mixed with the cool air of the city, the familiar warmth spread throughout his body, and for a brief moment, he could almost feel his stresses melt into the tranquility of the cool breeze.

Almost. He was only escaping from the cycle of worry and stress for a short time, because once this drink was finished, it was begrudgingly back into the fray.

Why was it always on the nicest of days that Leon had to be stuck on a mission? Actually, that’s a stupid question, considering he’s working pretty much every day. But shame on him for wanting to handle a mission peacefully with you and enjoy the nice weather for once. 

Whatever, the situation this time was supposed to be under control anyways. Only you and him were dispatched to the scene, and you were told it was okay to take your time, so this must be something the both of you could handle quite easily. Soon, the sun would set, but maybe if you both managed to get this job done quickly, he’d be able to enjoy what was left of the day.

“Shit, Leon, I can’t find mine. Can I have yours?”

“Nope, there’s not much left. Sorry,” Leon replied, taking another long swig from his flask.

“Dammit, I left my jacket at home ‘cause it was supposed to be hot today. It must still be in my pocket.”

The sun was beaming down, blistering heat radiating off the concrete sidewalk, but while standing in a large shadow cast by the looming buildings, a soft breeze dancing through the air cut through the tepidity. It brushed against Leon’s arms, bared by his gray t-shirt, tickling the side of his face and the hair on the back of his neck. This corner of the city was calm and quiet today, with the only sound being the rhythmic hum from cars on the nearby street whizzing by. 

“Hey, let me have a swig of yours.”

Leon shook his head. “No way.”

“Oh come on, I’ll be quick. There’s no way I’m getting through this mission without a little sip.”

He took another sip, holding the flask carefully in the palm of his hand. Dribbles of liquid sloshed inside, the sound echoing through the silence. He turned his head, finally meeting your pleading gaze. You cocked your head at him and he hesitated, if only for a moment, before sighing in defeat. He brought the flask to your lips until they closed around it.

“Drink.”

You followed the command, taking a swig as he held the half-empty flask steady. The warmth of the whiskey hit your lips first—you tasted the sweet oak flavor on your tongue, and when you swallowed, the fiery warmth lingered satisfyingly in the back of your throat.

It wasn’t very difficult to persuade Leon when it came to you, as it never has been. But there’s something about sharing his drink with you, something about watching you take a sip between his fingers, eyes locked onto his. Something about it enthralled him every time. So if you asked, he was sure to let you have a taste, and this time was no different.

He withdrew when you took in a sufficient amount, bringing the flask back to his own lips. You tilted your head upwards, catching glimpses of pale blue obscured by a tangled web of power lines before the burning sensation sank down on the back of your throat.

Funny, at one point, you told Leon you’d never drink. Yet now, here you were. Somehow, I’d never turned into Fine, I’ll try it, which then led to you asking What brand do you get again? I’m just curious, all right before his eyes, and all because of him. It filled him with a little sense of pride.

If you were going to be an agent beside him, experiencing the same loss and turmoil as he has his entire life for the rest of yours, he supposed you deserved something to indulge in. Or at least, that’s what he taught himself a long time ago. When you first became his partner, whether it was a nostalgic force of habit or an urge to put you through the same rite of passage he himself once underwent, Leon made it his goal to convince you to drink. 

With how adamantly against it you were at first, he almost gave up. But after countless missions together, months spent growing closer and further trusting one another, something seemed to crack. He managed to convince you to try it, and in no time at all, he had turned you into just as much of a hopeless addict as he was. It was a satisfying feeling at first, but now, that feeling wasn’t enjoyed without a sharp pang of guilt. 

Leon’s life was expendable. If he died, what impact would he leave on the world? He had no loved ones, no family—besides you. And the very day after he breathed his last, you’d find that he’d be replaced, just as simply as everyone he himself has come to lose. You’d forget about him and move on with your new partner. A sip of liquor was certainly not going to be his final nail in the coffin, but it doesn’t really matter either way, does it? 

Your life though, your life was different. Your life was precious. It was filled with time he didn’t have, filled with hope he didn’t have. In himself, he saw nothing, but in you, he saw love. To him, you were love. You were the embodiment of everything that made life worth living, everything beautiful. A star-filled night spent drinking the sweetest liquor, or finally getting home and taking off your shoes.

That’s something he would never admit. Not out loud, anyways.

He can’t help himself, because the way his name falls from your lips sounds more divine than the way anyone else has ever said it. Leon seems to have the most meaning when you’re the one to utter the syllables. Kennedy doesn’t sound like just another horrible, heavy weight he has to bear when it’s spoken from your mouth. His very existence is more precious to you than it is to the world.

You were someone he found worth protecting, and that’s what Leon promised he would do, precisely why he changed his mind. If he could go back, he would have never given you alcohol. Hell, he would have quit drinking if that’s what it took to get you to never try one. Your life was precious, and he should’ve never taught you to shorten it. 

Fantastic. He was thinking too much again. What he should do is shake these thoughts from his head and start focusing on the mission.

Leon gulped back the rest of the remaining whiskey, the warm sensation soothing his throat and the sweetness hitting him all at once. “Alright,” he spoke as he closed the lid, placing the empty flask back on his belt. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You pushed yourself off of the wall you’d been leaning on, stretching before you stood up straight. “You okay? You’ve been spacing out.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied nonchalantly, “Remember, if things go bad, you stand behind me. Understand?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine,” you stated, “And after we’re done, we can go out for some celebration drinks.”

Leon felt his worries fade away, like snow melting to a warm flame. He smiled softly—something only you could seem to make him do, he thinks. Drinks together after a stressful day sounded great. All he had to do was get through this mission, and then he could relax. And with the two of you, it would be easy, right? 

He nodded. “Right, let’s go.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ *

Tyrant sighting inside block #9’s parking garage. According to the request, it fled to the 3rd floor. It is described as a rather weak bio-weapon. All civilians have been evacuated safely from the area. Dispatching two agents from the Division of Security Operations.

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job—figure out the source of the possible outbreak, neutralize it and head to the lab. Get things done like you both always do and get out, simple as that. So how did you end up getting cornered by a tyrant like this? 

From the minute you saw the state of disarray the parking garage was in, you knew rather weak was a complete lie. You’ve been working under D.S.O. long enough to know this much damage couldn’t be caused by a mere low-rate bio-weapon. Cars were toppled everywhere. Some appeared to be flung with incredible force, and some were covered in holes where something had pierced straight through the metal. A chill was sent up your spine when you began to wonder what that something could be. It was definitely much stronger than it may have appeared. 

Likewise, you’ve been fighting alongside Leon long enough to know when he gets quiet like this; gritting his teeth roughly, sweat coating his furrowed brows. It’s usually a bad sign. The only time he goes silent is when he knows things are about to go to shit. Either that, or he pulls one of his dad jokes to lighten up the mood.

Noted: don’t complain about his sense of humor ever again.

With no words exchanged, you made your way to the third floor alongside Leon. Neither of you were sure what to expect, but you were saying silent prayers in your mind as you both climbed the stairs. Prayers that this one really was weak, and prayers that today wouldn’t be your last.

Once you were face to face with the titular tyrant though, your assumptions were dreadfully proven.

First of all, it was no small-fry, boasting a rather large body of contorted limbs and mismatched appendages. It was a disgusting freak of nature, like every sickly creature you’ve come across. What was most interesting were the equally sizable spines that covered the entirety of its body. 

The tyrant appeared to be able to shoot them out and recall them back to its body at will, so not only did it have great range and offense, but when recalled, the spikes also provided an excellent layer of defense. They weren’t porcupine levels of spines either. The size was comparable to railroad spikes, and they were heavy enough that it took a sustained burst of your pistol to deflect them, the recoil of the gun leaving your arms aching.

Second of all, thanks to all of those limbs helping to propel it, the damn thing was blisteringly fast and incredibly relentless. Its movements were a blur you could hardly even make out. All you could manage to do was block, block, block—never having the opportunity to get a hit in. 

Despite the growing severity of the situation, you were able to control your breathing and maintain some of your cool. You were both going to get out of this alive, you always do, don’t you? After all, you trusted Leon completely, and he reciprocated with unwavering trust in you. You stood back to back, pressed close to one another, covering for each other’s blind spots to deflect the tyrant’s attacks.

Leon has always been more agile than you, so at this point, you were relying on him to land a blow while you focused on simply keeping yourself from being impaled. Unfortunately, try as he might, he was just as unsuccessful as you. At least he was able to take a few shots at it, which was more than you were able to accomplish, but they proved to be fruitless when the creature dodged them easily. 

With every bullet of your pistol, it seemed to become heavier and heavier in your hands. In your chest, you could feel every single pound of your heart. It was hard to breathe, almost like the air was being forced into your lungs. You were slowing down, threatening to succumb to your exhaustion.

Leon could sense it. When you started to lag, he only squeezed the trigger faster, firing his gun in bursts, but each bullet pierced through the air only to be effortlessly dodged by the tyrant. He blocked where you failed to, and before you knew it, the fight was in a league all its own and you truly weren’t a part of it anymore.

He deflected every hit on his own while slowly backing away with you behind him—taking every opportunity, each break in the tyrant’s attacks to put space in between the two of you and itself. 

Eventually, you both were able to back up far enough that its attacks subsided a little, although not completely. Instead of sending out as many continual attacks as it could, the bio-weapon honed in on concentrated strikes. It was trying to eliminate one of you, and it clearly didn’t care which, with one strong blow. Leon deflected the first hit, but not without briefly staggering under the weight of the impact. 

“Go. Get out of here.”

Your attention was pulled away from the fight when Leon suddenly spoke, his voice breathless yet resolute. It was the first thing he’d said in a frighteningly long amount of time. His command hung in the air, his eyes remaining locked on the tyrant as he deflected another attack. 

Do something, anything, be useful. But you were rooted in place and couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Everything was a blur, moving in fast motion while you were stuck in the past. All you were able to do was uselessly stand at Leon’s side, your eyes darting between him and the tyrant as he fired shots after shots, loud bangs of gunfire echoing throughout the garage.

Leon turned to you, grabbing your shoulder, and his iron grip paired with his sharp gaze meeting yours was enough to briefly shake you from your trance. He raised his voice, shouting, “Did you not hear me?”

“I did, I heard you, but…” You stammered frantically, trying to come up with the words, trying to come up with anything at all. Right now, you’re aware that you’re only a liability, just someone he has to protect. But you didn’t want to leave him—you couldn’t. You were hoping somehow, someway, you’d find a way to assist. If you searched your brain hard enough, you’d have to come up with something. 

Leon’s face seemed to soften the slightest amount when he spoke again, staring into your eyes with an expression ever pleading. “I can handle this, you’re only going to get hurt if you stay so just—”

You should do something. Anything. Something to help him, something more useful, something better than just standing there. 

No, you should run. You should listen to him. You should take the chance he’s made for you and get out. So why weren’t you? Why were you numb, unable to move? 

Wait, when did he start standing so close in front of you? And when did the noise of gunfire cease? 

And why was Leon not moving? 

The air was filled with a suffocating silence, save for a faint sound of droplets splattering on concrete and the twofold echo of weary gasps for breath. You were terrified to look, shaky vision remaining fixated on the tyrant, but when a spike stained crimson was recalled to its body and the sound grew from a light dribble to a loud splatter, your eyes darted downwards. 

Blood. Leon’s blood. 

His pistol slipped from his loose grasp, falling to the ground with a clatter amongst the spots of red painting the floor below. His legs buckled, and as he swayed forward, you reached out and caught him by his waist. 

“Hey, hey, wait—Shit, Leon, I’m so sorry.”

Everything was scrambled, surreal, and you were fumbling over your words, shaking, struggling to hold up his weight and not even sure what was going through your mind anymore. 

Leon wrapped his arm around your shoulders, still wobbling but regaining a little bit of his balance. He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he tried, he sputtered into a cough, spitting up spots of blood into his hand. 

His mind was a dizzying blur, coherent thoughts swirling, drowned out by a razor-edged pain that kept hammering away at his senses. He’s losing blood. He can feel it warm and wet against his side. Even though his adrenaline is pumping right now, he can’t have much consciousness left before he’s done.

Make the best call, otherwise you’re dying here.

The tyrant seemed to be taunting you now, taking its time to lick the blood off the spike clean. But Leon was the only one who noticed this. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. 

Despite how much it made your heart sink to see his face contorted in such pain, his lips parted as he took in ragged breaths, your gaze remained locked on. You focused only on watching the heave of his chest, right above where his navy shirt is stained a vivid red, because you were terrified of the thought that if you looked away, when you looked back, it wouldn’t rise and fall anymore. 

At least the tyrant seemed to have finally let its guard down. The damn thing probably thought it had already won. The two of you had lured it all the way to the edge of the parking garage. Orange rays from the setting sun cast large shadows upon its figure.

“Leon, come on, we need to get out of here.”

Make the best call, make the best call, make the best call…

With every strength he could muster, his eyes roamed over the monster. He scanned the length of its spines, noting its intricate curves. As he observed further, his eyes drifted across something barely perceptible. Leon took a moment to adjust his gaze, unsure of what he was seeing with his blurry vision, but it was unmistakable: a barely perceptible glow nestled within the spine’s root.

The gears in his mind were spinning rapidly as he considered every possibility and angle.

Could he use this to his advantage?

What if it wasn’t a vulnerability like he thought?

What if he missed his last chance?

Now was the only chance he had to test it, and he needed to do it quickly before it started paying attention again. He tried to form ideas on how he could seize the opportunity to his advantage despite the odds being stacked against him, and despite that deep, heavy feeling in his stomach that tells him to just let go.

No, stop hesitating or you’ll die, idiot. He had to do it, and he had to do it right now. 

Leon brought a heavy, trembling hand up, his finger pressed faint to the trigger. Through blurry vision growing dim, he aligned the pistol with the shadowy silhouette of the tyrant, attempting to take a shot at the glowing area.

The bullet pierced through the faint glow as if it was nothing, causing the tyrant to screech in pain and let out a guttural moan. With its body wracked with agony, it couldn’t recall its spikes in time to protect itself.

It had worked, Leon realized, that was its weakness. He seized the opportunity and continued firing, and with each well-timed gunshot to its vital area, he weakened the tyrant further. Finally, finally after what felt like an eternity, a decisive shot left its gruesome form collapsing in defeat.

Leon used a final burst of energy to hurriedly twist until he was in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, his tall frame leant over yours to shield you from the splintered shards of broken spikes that were being flung through the air.

It’s over. 

The bio-weapon was taken down, Leon kept you safe, and once this realization hit him, the ache in his chest seemed to increase exponentially. It was a piercing, hot, all-encompassing pain, like nothing he could even describe. His ears were ringing, and every breath he took in was starting to become shorter and shorter without his control. 

There’s so many things he wants to tell you. He wants to say it’s alright, we did it. Don’t worry about me because everything is going to be okay. But words wouldn’t form anymore, let alone comprehensible thoughts. He was at the end of his rope now, wasn’t he? 

It hurts, it’s fading away. Everything is fading.

“Hang in there, Leon. Look at me, please.”

But your face was a blur, a mere swirl of colors growing hazy, almost as if he was being swallowed into the darkness of a long, pitch-black tunnel.

Shit, don’t give in just yet. Don’t give in.

“Focus on me, don’t close your eyes.”

Your voice was growing fainter, muddier, as if Leon was plunged underwater, the depths threatening to claim him. His eyelids were starting to feel so, so heavy. 

He’s going to die. 

The realization should have been terrifying. Instead, he felt release, like finally letting go when your hands had been burning from holding on for far too long. The end should have hit him much harder than it did, yet he found it soothing, like a river’s rippling waters finally settling into a still, tranquil pool. 

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job, and now the person you cared for the most was dying in your arms. 

“Can you hear me? Leon?” 

At this point, if you were saying anything, he couldn’t tell what it was anymore. He could feel himself slipping, losing the fight, and before he knew it, he was speaking before he was thinking. Soft words tumbled from his aching throat at barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

And then, he was done. 

Leon’s head fell to rest on your shoulder. His body went limp against yours, motionless and heavy. You could feel the ever so subtle tickle of his shallow breaths against your neck. 

He was barely breathing, but at least he wasn’t dead yet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     *

It’s happening again. He’s there, but at the same time, he is watching himself, a mere observer to the snowglobe that is the microcosm of his life. Inside the dome is a familiar place, surrounded by dead trees with bloodied corpses. Through frosted glass, he can see it—he can see himself, determined and eager, as innocent and naive as he used to be. But all he can do is watch.

All he can do is watch as the scene plays out just as he knew it would, just as he’s seen in his dreams countless times before. Someone shakes the globe, and all at once, the city is torn into the sky, blown away with the same disorder present in a gorgeous flurry of raindrops and glitter.  

It’s strange. Seeing it now, so small, so far away, a swirl of mesmerizing crystalline, it almost seems beautiful. But as he watches, he can taste the bile rising in his throat, he’s weighed down by the sinking of his heart, and in that moment, he’s filled with the same sense of dread he felt that day. The feeling of being lost at sea with nothing but miles and miles of blue in sight. Nowhere to run to, no one to reach out and help you, left treading water until you drown in the deep.

If God is up there, he isn’t listening anymore.

Leon feels cold, down to his bones. Is it because of the rainstorm? Or is it coming from within? 

The scene fades, and a new one opens on what he remembers to be the first time he killed one of those things. He watches a much younger, inexperienced version of himself through the shiny reflection on the gun. His fragile hands grasp the grip tight and he fires with a reckless naiveté. God, he was so young to be fighting, and even though he tried to hide it, Leon knew him better than anyone—he knew the boy he saw in the mirror was terrified. 

He became a spectator to his first zombie kill. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was overwhelmed with the satisfaction of finally doing something useful. From then on, he killed more, more. He didn’t stop, not even for a second. 

His gun was aimed and fired at creature after creature, but the madness didn’t end for him once they were shot. When he was done, his palms were stained red, down to the crevices. He remembers feeling as though it would never wash out of his pores. With his vision blurring with tears, Leon could no longer see through the steel, and so the scene faded anew. 

When the picture took shape once more, Leon was standing in the grounds of the Raccoon City Police Department. 

Through a blurry vision, he could see himself inside, chatting with an experienced police officer. Or perhaps it was an argument, he can’t remember. The main hall appeared to be empty apart from them, and although he could see himself clearly, the one sitting on the sofa across from him was blurred. He knew exactly who it was, and yet, his face was obscured and just wasn’t quite right. 

Even though he was watching from further away, he could hear the conversation clear as day, like it was coming from inside his brain. 

“Look, we can still make it out of here together, if you just gimme—” 

Leon didn’t look up, although now, he wished he did; because if he had, maybe he would have remembered his face more. 

“It’s too late,” Marvin stated firmly, “I tried, Leon. But I couldn’t stop it. We can’t let this thing spread. It’s on you now.”

It’s still on him now, isn’t it? It has been for a while. Leon is awfully aware of the fact that he doesn’t belong anywhere except the line of fire. It’s all he has, all he knows. He is held on the tightest leash around his neck, owned from the day he joined this miserable circus until either retirement or demise. That’s the price he pays for keeping people safe, one bottle at a time. 

Perhaps, he thinks now, he does deserve this lifestyle—waking up every day only to despise the very air he breathes. Leon isn’t sure anymore. Maybe there’s some twisted deity up there, laughing at his torment.

“I understand.”

If he could go back now, would he have changed his answer? 

Right now, he isn’t sure, but in this world where he’s only an onlooker, it doesn’t really matter. He is on the outside looking in, left staring at his double and the hazy vision of Marvin.

Why was he seeing all of these things? Is this what they call your life flashing before your eyes? 

He stood idly, watching the film continue to play out, although he already knew how it was going to end. For a second time, he had to shoot Marvin’s zombie form, and for a second time, he was utterly powerless to stop it. He was a prisoner to a story already told, and even though the rest of the memory was fuzzy, he could remember everything about Marvin as he watched him slowly disappear. 

That memory was always the clearest. His own brain is so cruel. 

Leon couldn’t bear to see much more of this. He turned and started walking, then running, leaving the stage behind him. 

Perhaps it was because he hoped to enter a memory more pleasant, or perhaps it was because your face was the last thing he saw, your voice the last thing he heard, and so you were still lingering in the labyrinth of his mind. Whatever it was, Leon began to reflect on recollections of you.

The first time he offered you a cold glass of whiskey. He demonstrated how to drink it before passing it off to you. When you coughed and sputtered, it was almost endearing, like watching a younger version of himself. You didn’t give up though, and when he watched you, he couldn’t help but smile. That day, he smiled for what was the first time in a long time. 

The first mission you completed together. He didn’t think it was anything to write home about, but you were so excited, and some of that cheerfulness couldn’t help but be rubbed off on him. You praised him for how strong he was, rambled about how much you wished you could be an agent as strong as him. Never become like me, was what he wanted to say, but instead, he offered to train with you, show you some of what he knows. You graciously accepted, and after that, training sessions together became a regular occurance. That was only the start of Leon spending time with you outside of work. 

The first time he took you to his family’s grave. He told you it wouldn’t be anything fun, but you insisted on coming. He’s still not sure why you did. 

It was chilly that day. You both left early in the morning. You slept on his shoulder on the train ride there. Then, on the boat, it was freezing, so while you looked out at the water, he took off his jacket and draped it over the two of you like a blanket with his shoulder pressed against yours. Lastly was the bus, and even though it was totally empty, for some reason, he stood close to you. Close enough that every bump in the road caused him to lean into you. Close enough that his fingers kept accidentally brushing against yours. 

Another thing he’s not sure of is why you decided to grab his hand then. It could be because you were getting tired of all those accidents, or maybe it was because you figured it was awfully close anyways, so you might as well. It wouldn’t be a far extension of what was already occurring. 

Or possibly, it was because you could see right through him. You could tell deep down, he was troubled with the reminders of all of this, of everything he lost that day. So when you took his hand, it was to give him something to hold on to. A small form of comfort. He likes to think the reason was the latter. 

“Your hands are cold.” You commented. 

“Yours are warm.”

The trip was always a long one, but with you, it seemed to go by in an instant. You prayed alongside him, and something about you being there made it easier, made him feel less alone. 

In his eyes, in every memory, your face was clear. He could see every detail of it, but he swore it was more beautiful than he remembered. 

The first time you came over to his house, he showed you around, and when you were hungry, he peeled and cut an apple for you. He remembers the way your face lit up when you saw the bunny-shaped slices, the way you smiled at him as you ate. You watched movies together, talked about stupid shit and gossiped about co-workers while forgetting about the world. For just one night, everything was normal. Leon remembers wishing he could freeze time right at that moment. 

The second time you went out drinking together, you both probably shared more secrets than necessary, but Leon can hardly recall what was said. What he does remember is taking you home when you got too drunk, your whole body leaning on him, your infectious laugh when you wobbled, and the way you relied on him to keep you safe without question. It made him feel important, made him feel like he was needed by someone. 

It’s the dullest of moments that Leon remembers the clearest, he notes. They also happen to be the ones he loves the most, because when every monster might be what drives you to the brink of insanity, a little bit of something simple goes a long way. 

Leon relives a conversation he had with you on his balcony, over a shared whiskey and under the dull light of the crescent moon. He recalls something you asked him that night. 

If you could go back and change your past, would you?

You posed it as a pretty casual question, teasing him when he simply replied he doesn’t know. 

Ask him any other time, and Leon would have said yes, absolutely. There were so many things he’d like to change about his life. So many people he’d want to save, and when he really thinks about it, all of this started with that stupid uniform and that damn gun. Against the impossible odds, he’d find a way to prevent it, find a way to save innocent souls. Find a way to fix his life. 

Now though? He’s come to feel a bit differently, not just about that question, but about his life as a whole. No matter how much you wish it could, the past can’t be changed. The only thing you can do is learn to live with it. Accomplish your goals and treasure what you have left until it’s gone. And if you do, you might just find something that makes all the suffering worth it in the end. Someone who makes you look forward, instead of looking back all the time. 

The only thing he regrets is ever giving you a damn glass of whiskey. 

This world has always hated him from the start. Was showing him all of this the universe’s way of trying to get him to finally give up? 

To hell with that. Leon still had a job to do, and for once in his life, he had someone out there waiting for him. Someone who would cry if he died, and he can’t let that happen. He needed to get out of here. 

“Where are we going?”

With no warning, he found himself on a busy street, and he heard your voice clearly through the suffocating crowd. 

“We have to patrol the south side,” came his response, although it wasn’t coming from his own mouth. Leon turned to where he heard it, and standing out from the group as if a spotlight was shown upon them was the striking image of himself walking with you close on his heels.

“Try to keep up,” his duplicate continued, “I won’t have time to babysit you.”

“You must have pretty low expectations of me.”

“I have low expectations of some people, especially softies like yourself.”

Leon felt his hands ball up into fists. Man, was he always such an asshole?

“And why’s that?”

“Because everyone ends up either—”

Leon charged forward, closing the distance between himself and you. Before he let himself say another word, he reached out and grabbed your hand. Your palm was warm, and he could feel it when you gripped back, the touch distinct and real. For a moment, his heart skipped and he hesitated, a gravity almost drawing him away—but he held on tight and let it pull him with you in tow. 

He moved as quickly as he could manage, shouldering past those in the way, and when the sea of people seemed to part, he started running. 

“Leon, wait!” Your voice cried out from behind him, and you were slowing down, stumbling, struggling to keep up. “Where the hell are we going?”

His vision was growing muddled, and he wasn’t sure where he even was anymore. His surroundings were a confusing, vague blur, in an uncanny kind of way.

“We’re getting out of here,” He replied, and the next thing he said poured from his mouth thoughtlessly, “I’m not ready to die.”

“You’re not dead, Leon.”

Leon froze in place. “I’m not?” He murmured, although to be honest, he knew a long time ago that he wasn’t. He knew from the moment he first saw your face, and from the second he felt your touch so strongly when he grabbed your hand. He could feel this was only a dream that he was on the edge of waking up from.  

And as if on cue, a loud boom pierced right through the languor, and the calm haze of a quiet dream was severed in favor of a heart-pounding awakening. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     *

He’s not dead yet.

Leon awoke, the fog blanketing his mind rapidly fading to a clear consciousness. The first thing he heard was the crack of thunder, and once his eyes fluttered open, the second thing was the rolling thrum thereafter. He fought against the grogginess still lingering in his mind and the heavy weight of his eyelids begging to close, attempting to take in the area around him. The room was dim, covered in a veil of gray, and the gentle patter of rain could be heard outside. 

He sat there for a moment, pondering the loose threads from his dream still lingering in his memory. As his senses returned, he felt something in his open hand, holding it carefully, but firm. Your touch blended so well with his dream that it took him a bit before he noticed. Fabric rustled as he turned to look at you, your head rested on the edge of the bed. You had pulled up a chair next to him, and although he couldn’t tell since you were facing away, he guessed you were sleeping.

Leon felt his body relax and his heartbeat slow once he saw you, and for a minute he was settled there, simply enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. It was warm. So warm.

He could tell from his surroundings that he must be in the hospital. How long had he been asleep? Or, more importantly, how long had you been waiting for him to wake up? Hopefully he didn’t worry you for too long, he thought, and as he attempted to recall how he got himself into this in the first place, the memory of the day prior began to return. 

That’s right, the mission was interrupted by a bio-weapon, and that’s where he became injured. He remembered fighting alongside you, stepping in front of you, and taking a spike right through his stomach. Leon could feel his middle wrapped in something snug, and to confirm it true, he snaked his free hand up his hospital gown. Sure enough, when his fingers met his side, he felt the smooth cotton of a bandage cloth.

The next thing he recalled was the pain. How sharp and hot it was, and then the feeling of almost dying that followed. It felt oddly calm, like slipping into a peaceful slumber, but now, the mental image it conjured utterly terrified him. 

You weren’t hurt, were you? No, if you were here now, you must have gotten out safely. Leon remembered your panicked voice as you begged for him to stay awake. The look on your face that shot a bullet through his heart when he realized you were crying. He remembered being held in your arms, slowly slipping away, whispering his last words… 

Shit. They were supposed to be his last words, anyways, but considering he was alive and well right now, they certainly didn’t turn out to be. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. 

In the moment, his mind was in shambles, and all he was concerned with was making sure something left his mouth so you could hear his voice one last time. He wanted those words to be meaningful and good, but he didn’t have much time nor energy left to decide on them. The grim prospect of death was staring him right in the eyes, and he could tell from the dwindling sand within the hourglass that he didn’t have much time left. He dug a hole for his own grave, and as he did, he unearthed feelings he had long since buried in the dirt. In the moment, all he could think of was not allowing those feelings to be forever buried alongside him. 

Leon could feel his heart constrict in his chest. I love you. I love you. I love you. Each resoundment was like a punch to the gut, echoing throughout his head, spoken in his own voice. Out of all the things he could have said, why did he have to go with that? Maybe it would have been endearing if he had actually ended up six feet under, but in this instance, all he did was force his feelings onto you. 

He shouldn’t have said it. The time and place couldn’t have been any more horrible. You shouldn’t feel pressured to accept his confession just because he almost died, so Leon decided the first thing he’s going to do when you wake up is take it all back. He’ll tell you he didn’t mean any of it, even if that was an outright lie. 

Speaking frankly, Leon didn’t know much about love, but somewhere down the line, he became pretty sure he was in love with you. He could feel it clearly in the way his heart came alive every time he was around you, and in the way your presence alone brought him so much peace. You treated his life as anything but expendable, and you cared about him in a way almost no one else ever has. There was something about you that captivated him and made him grow very, very attached, until before he realized what was happening, you became the most precious thing in his life. 

Nevertheless, for so many reasons, he swallowed those feelings and kept them concealed. You were his partner firstly, his friend secondly, and he couldn’t allow something stupid like this to get in the way of either of your jobs. Besides, if you grew closer to each other, it would only lead to more hurt when one of you inevitably departed. Leon had to keep you at a certain distance. For his own sake and yours, you two could never be more than friends. 

But when you find yourself on the brink of death, something about you changes. You start thinking of all those things you’ve tried to keep hidden and you’re met with a choice: speak now, or die beside them. 

Oh, whatever. What’s done is done, so it’s not worth agonizing over now, is it? 

Searching for something to distract himself, Leon finally decided to push himself up, doing so slowly as to not wake you. The second he rose, he immediately felt the strain of fatigue on his body, like a hook held by a taut line threatening to drag him backwards. The slightest bit of movement also triggered a steady throb in his side. He brushed strands of hair from his face, rubbed some of the stress from his temple, and forced himself to stay up. 

A dull flash of lightning brought his attention to the window beside him. Gentle droplets tapped against the glass, then steadily cascaded down, obscuring the view with blurry streaks of water. Dark, puffy clouds hung low in the sky and blotted out the light from the sun. The slosh of water could be heard when cars in the streets below passed by, headlights casting streaks of yellow that traveled across the room. 

For a while, Leon watched the rain, the soft rhythm beginning to settle his thoughts. He could still feel your hand in his, and he faintly closed his fingers around it, holding it in a tender grip. The drizzle outside bounced off of the sidewalk and soaked into the soil. Where it had the chance, it collected into puddles that reflected the city’s colorful glow. It could have been his imagination, but he swore the storm was only picking up. 

“Leon?”

A voice calling his name stirred him, but before he could fully turn towards it, before he could even form a word in response, you had already flung forward and wrapped your arms around him. Leon’s breath hitched in his throat. For a few seconds, he stalled, before he hesitantly returned the embrace, shaky arms clutching around your back. Loosely at first, but tight when he gave in. 

You held him close, close enough that how glad you were to see he was okay was conveyed through your touch alone, and without a single word spoken, he understood. You could feel his heart beating through his chest and the fabric of his clothes was balled up tight in your hands. 

His heartbeat. In the grand scheme of things, it was inconsequential, but hearing it now made it sound like the world’s most perfect melody. 

Although his lips trembled like there was something he wished to say, Leon was rendered speechless until you pulled apart. You held his shoulders, the look on his face one of relief. When he met your gaze, he got lost in your eyes, and when he spoke to end the silence, his voice was low. To hear it after so long made it sound especially comforting. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Since this afternoon,” you replied, “They’ve been letting me off work early ‘cause I can’t work without a buddy.”

Leon looked away, his face tensed in thought, and you spoke again, figuring you knew what was on his mind. “You’ve been asleep for three days now.”

Three days? He should be grateful he wasn’t out for longer, but three days was still far too long to have left you worrying about him. He was so stupid, so sloppy, such an idiot. How could he let something like this happen? 

Leon sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? For what?”

Fuck, for everything. His voice fragile, like it was glass about to break into a million little pieces, he answered, “For failing you, for making you worry about me. For what I—”

The hospital room’s door opening with a creak caused Leon to trail off, his attention and yours shifted to a nurse standing in the hallway. 

The nurse stated simply, “Visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

Your hesitation made Leon almost think you were going to protest, but instead, you responded, “Okay, I’m leaving in a minute.”

When the nurse left, you pulled Leon into another curt hug. You were about to tell him not to apologize because there was nothing to apologize for, but when he rested his head on your shoulder, you heard him say quietly into your ear, “You should leave now anyways, the rain is picking up.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you cut the hug short and decided to leave the conversation there, since it seemed like what he wanted you to do. You began shuffling around the room to find your belongings. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, but I wanted to talk to you for longer.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow as soon as I’m off work.” You said, pulling your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. 

Leon shook his head, “That’s not necessary.”

“You don’t want me to?”

Of course he wanted you to. If he was truly listening to his heart, he would have begged for you to stay and never fucking leave his side again. But he has to listen to his head. 

“No, just… Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll call you when I get out, we can talk more when I’m feeling better.”

“Alright. Do you need anything before I go?”

“I could use something to take the edge off, but I doubt they’ll let me drink in here, so...” Leon pondered with a shrug of his shoulders, but without a care for what he just said, you rooted around in your jacket pocket, tossing your flask at him. He saw it out of the corner of his eye and spun to catch it with ease. 

You were about to leave the room, but as you grabbed the door handle, you stopped to say one more comment, “Hey, make sure you get some rest, alright?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about me?”

In response, you only chuckled. 

Leon spoke between the flask already placed around his lips, “Be safe.”

“I will. See you later. Call me.”

He waved, and after catching one last glimpse of him, you left and closed the door behind you. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     *

Leon never called you.

After almost a week of not hearing from him, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You went to the hospital first, only to find his room empty upon opening the door. You flagged down a nurse, who informed you he left a few days ago. Against the wishes of his doctor, might they add. Yeah, sounds just like him. 

So next, you tried to call his phone, but of course, it rang infinitely without an answer. When that plan failed, you didn’t waste any time trying to leave voicemails. You got in your car and drove right to his apartment. 

Considering what the nurse told you, it wasn’t hard to believe he was ignoring you because he was trying to get some rest, but considering what you knew about Leon, the real reason was probably because he didn’t want you to fuss over him. It was either that or he was too embarrassed to talk to you.

You parked in front of his apartment and then made your way to the door. The sun hung low in the sky, casting orange ribbons of light upon everything it touched. A sharp chill settled in the air, leaving goosebumps on your arms in its wake. You raised your knuckle and knocked. 

No answer. 

You rung the doorbell, hearing the muffled chime resound from inside. 

No answer, again. 

The lights weren’t on, but his motorcycle was parked in the lot, so he definitely was here. Was he okay? Something didn’t happen to him, did it? You’re starting to get a little nervous. 

You were about to try knocking at the door again, but to your surprise, it unlocked with a click. You hurriedly moved your hand away, and when it swung open, you couldn’t hold back a sigh in relief. 

Leon leant on the doorframe, his hair an utter mess. He was wearing comfortable clothing, what you assumed to be his pajamas, and a weary look was present in his eyes. Maybe he actually was resting after all.

He eyed you up and down before asking in a flat tone, “What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

You scoffed, “You said you would call me and you didn’t, idiot.”

“Right. Sorry,” He replied, his attitude standoffish, and he averted his eyes, looking down at the floor.

In his defense, he doesn’t need to be saved when he’s the one doing the saving. Could he be any less subtle about this? At least you were here now, so he couldn’t avoid you for any longer. 

“Can you let me in? It’s cold out here.” You said, crossing your arms. 

Leon appeared to be unsure, but regardless, he opened the door further and moved aside, allowing you to walk in before he closed it behind you.

The second you entered, a heavy warmth settled over your body like a cocoon. The familiar smell of his apartment and the distinct musk of his cologne filled your lungs. The scent was comforting, albeit a little suffocating, but it smelled exactly like him, and that’s what you loved about it. His living room was lit solely by the rays of light shining through the balcony’s sliding glass door. 

He wobbled past you, and before he sunk down on the couch, you noticed how he was clutching his side. “There’s beer in the fridge if you want one,” he said, grabbing a can from the coffee table in front of him. 

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take him up on that offer, walking over to the kitchen. “Isn’t it bad to drink while you’re recovering?”

“It helps take the edge off.” Leon brought the can to his lips, head tilted back as he took in a sufficient sip. After swallowing, he added, “Besides, you’re the one who let me drink back in the hospital. It shouldn’t be a problem now.”

After rummaging around in the fridge, you grabbed a beer can of your own, cracking it open with a satisfying hiss. The bitter taste of alcohol pricked at your throat when you took a sip, and as you made your way to the living room, you looked at Leon again. He didn’t look to be in much pain, but he was still holding his stomach like something was sore there. His expression was plagued by exhaustion and his hair was in total disarray. He probably hadn’t even brushed it since he got home.

“Leon, are you alright?” You asked, plopping next to him, the couch sinking under your weight. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” You snapped back after his curt response, pointing to his bandages as he brought the beer can to his mouth again. Most curiously, his waist was wrapped in bandages stained a dark red from dried blood. “Are you really okay? Have you been changing your bandages at all?”

“I told you I was okay. You worry too much.”

“You didn’t answer my second question.”

Leon looked away, unresponsive. There was your answer, you supposed. You took another swig of your beer before setting it on the table and pushing yourself up. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, peering up at you. 

“Bathroom.”

This was far from the first time you’d hung out at Leon’s place, so you knew exactly where the bathroom was. You dug through all the cabinets and drawers until you found everything you were looking for: a roll of bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a washcloth, and his hairbrush. 

When you returned, Leon immediately saw everything you were holding and a slight look of annoyance formed on his face.

“You don’t have to—”

“Come on, let me help you.” You interrupted, setting everything down on the table besides the brush, which you held in your hand. “Face forward, I’m gonna brush your hair first.”

He gave a few more flustered comments, but you ignored them. You stood behind him and grabbed his chin when he tried to twist around, tilting his head back until it was forwards. Realizing there was no sense in fighting you, he sighed rather dramatically and reluctantly kept still, allowing you to run the hair brush through his tangles. 

You were gentle, as much as you possibly could be, anyways. Leon tried his hardest to keep still. It was impossible for you to tell from this angle, but if you could see his face, you would know he was totally embarrassed. Not embarrassed enough to stop you though, of course. It’s fine if you wanted to brush his hair, because he definitely wasn’t enjoying this and his heart definitely wasn’t pounding right now. 

“Hey, Leon, I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah, what is it?” 

Were you finally going to ask him about his last words? It’s okay, he already prepared what he was going to say, so it’d be fine. It’d be awkward, but he’ll get over it, you’ll get over it, and everything will go back to normal. 

“On our last mission, why did you step in front of me?”

Why did he do what? For a second, Leon was taken aback. This isn’t what he expected you to say, not at all, in fact. Was this really all you were wondering about? 

At first, he wasn’t sure why. In the heat of the moment, the only thing in control was his reflexes, and when he protected you, he did so without a conscious thought. But the more he thought about it, the more the answer became obvious to him. 

Leon is used to losing partners. It’s nothing new, and even though he tells himself he’s not going to get attached, he always does. When they die, reduced to nothing but one of those damned things, their souls burn on in his memory when he shoots them, haunting him until he drowns in salty tears and the sweet burn of another whiskey. They’re replaced with hardly any time given to mourn, and the cycle repeats itself. The world discards them, but he never will. 

The thing is, you’re not just another partner to him. You’re not just someone who can be easily replaced. You meant so much to him, more than you would ever really know. If you died, you’d be taking a piece of him with you, and the void left behind is one he would never be able to fill again. Not with anyone else. Not with the alcohol or the rush from fighting. Nothing else would compare. 

Leon is tired of this, and he realized he was a long time ago. He’s sick of the world giving him something he thinks he can cherish, but no matter how tight he holds on, it always ends up slipping away, right between his grasp. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t sit back and be complacent, allowing the cycle to repeat itself over and over again until everything he finds beautiful is wilted, all right before his eyes.

He doesn’t care about all the pain he’s in now. The temporary sting from this injury doesn’t compare to how much it hurts to lose someone he cares about, a wound that aches everlasting. And he knows he could have died, he knows the feeling of death to an uncomfortable degree. But if keeping you safe means giving up his life for yours, he’d do it in a heartbeat, and he did. 

“Leon, did you hear me?”

“I did it because I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

You stopped for a moment, before exhaling a long sigh. “I don’t want to see you hurt either, you know. You could have died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just next time, let’s both be more careful. I don’t want you dying on me any time soon.”

Leon didn’t say anything back, half expecting you to ask him something else, but the discussion stagnated. 

I don’t want you dying on me any time soon. How could one little sentence carry so much weight? He’ll try, God, he’ll try. He’ll do anything and everything in his power to stay with you for as long as he can. 

By this point, you finished brushing out his hair, and it was soft to the touch when you ran your fingers through to make sure you didn’t miss any knots. One thing’s for sure, it looked a hell of a lot better than when you started. 

“All done,” You said while moving to stand in front of him, setting the brush down on the table, “I’m going to do your bandages now, take off your shirt.”

“Huh?” 

“I said I’m going to do your bandages now. I’ll do the wound on your side first since that’s gonna be the harder one.”

“Nope,” Leon shook his head, reaching for the bandages, “I’ll do it.”

You promptly put your hand on his and pushed it away. “No, you won’t. Leon, please. Let me help you.”

Although his mouth opened like he was about to argue, he ultimately kept it shut, the pleading tone in your voice convincing him. He sunk back on the couch and his gaze avoided yours as he reached down, grasping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head, letting out a little grunt of pain when he tossed it aside. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen Leon without a shirt, and under it, he’s a lot more slim than you expected him to be. You could tell how the stress had eaten away at his soul, the burdens he’d been carrying for so long visibly taking their toll on him.

He was slim, but with defined muscle. Especially in his biceps, which you would assume is from the years of training. Bruises kissed his skin and scars decorated every last inch. You could imagine each one telling a different story: some of sorrow, some of triumph, but all a reminder that through everything, he lived. Just below his ribs, stained bandages were wrapped tightly. 

When the last of the bandage was unwrapped, you finally got a good look at his wound, and the only thing you could think was this would definitely leave his biggest scar yet. The cut was sealed by stitches and traveled up the length of his abdomen, dried blood coated around it. 

“So, how should I…” You stood in front of him, leaning down, attempting to figure out the best way to go about this. After feeling around, you located the end of the bandage, pulling on it and beginning to unwrap it from around his body. You could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest and hear the sound of his breathing: soft, and a little shaky. The angle was awkward and quickly caused an ache in your back, so to alleviate it, you rested your knee on his legs. 

You took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the table, then the washcloth, pouring a small amount onto the surface. When you turned back to him, you decided the easiest way to continue would be to climb into his lap. 

Leon couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks anymore, nor could he stifle the way his breath hitched when he felt your weight settle on top of him. You were so close, way too close, and when you shuffled against him, his entire face felt very, very hot. He could feel the warmth all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“Alright, this is probably going to hurt. Are you ready?”

“Uh, yeah.”

God, why was he so embarrassed? Why couldn’t he calm down? His heart was thrumming against his ribcage, pounding so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear it through his chest like he could hear it in his eardrums. With you pressed up against his lap, he could admire the details on your face like he never could before. The shape of your nose, the color of your eyes, each and every mark and… and he didn’t know where the hell to put his hands. Maybe he should… No, it’d be best if he just—

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he let out a pained groan, speaking through gritted teeth, “That hurts, why didn’t you warn me?”

“I did, you dumbass.”

The second you pressed the rag to his cut, a sharp sting shot through him and he flinched back instinctively. When you pressed it to him again, he tensed up and subsequently jerked away. 

“Leon, you need to hold still.”

“I can’t when it’s so goddamn painful.”

You gave him a second to compose himself before trying once more. Leon winced and swore under his breath, but he was able to keep still this time. You cleaned around his wound carefully, taking the washcloth away to give him a break whenever he squirmed or made it obvious he was in pain. Searching for something to hold onto, he grabbed your shoulder, squeezing tight to ground himself. 

“You shouldn’t have left the hospital so early, this looks horrible.” You ascertain. 

“I need to get back to work, I’ve—” He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of air, “I’ve lost enough time already.”

The pain stung like all hell, but there was something about being looked after by you that felt nice, almost calming, in a way. There was also something about how you fit in his lap that felt so, so right. Leon could hardly get over that feeling, and when he was squirming too much so you gently held his waist to keep him still, your soft touch against his bare skin was tender and heavenly and perfect. Any more of this, and his heart might pop like a balloon. 

“I’m almost done,” You said softly, your tone comforting, “You’re doing good, hang in there for me.”

Leon gave a quick nod and you continued. You cleaned the entire length of the wound, and once you thought your work was sufficient, the next thing you grabbed from the table was the fresh roll of bandages. You began wrapping them around him, winding them up the width of his body once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. When you were finished, you asked him, “Are you okay?”

Leon merely nodded again. 

“Are the bandages too tight?”

He shook his head. You secured the bandage with a knot, and when you started to slide off of him, Leon suddenly stopped you by grabbing your arm.

He can’t let this moment end. Not right now. Not when he needs it. Not when he’s needed you for so long.

“Wait,” He whispered, swallowing, “Can we… Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

You slid back into his lap, carefully straddling him, and Leon couldn’t help but feel the way your body connected to his was like puzzle pieces finally fitting together. He’s not sure if he planned to or if it was purely by natural reflex, but he was a slight bit bolder this time when he allowed his hands to find your waist and hold it faintly through the fabric of your clothes. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just really missed you.”

To be honest, that didn’t even begin to scratch the surface. Leon missed you so goddamn much. He longed for your touch, for your mere presence alone. To have you in his lap now was a blessing, and what he didn’t tell you was on that day, when he woke up at the hospital and you wrapped your arms around him, the feeling which leapt through his heart was the most he’s felt in a long, long time. 

Fuck, he was so stupid. Why did he ever try to push you away? Why did he think that was a good idea?

“I missed you too.” You replied. 

“I’m sorry, I should have called you.”

“Leon,” You said with a half-hearted laugh, “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s…” Leon shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing, “It’s not, and I’m sorry. It’s not okay for me to get hurt so badly I’m out for three days, or for me to ignore you, and I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”

His expression seemed to soften, and the next thing to leave his mouth was spoken a little quieter, a little softer, and much, much warmer.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you, not for that long. You matter too much to me.”

The way he said it so genuinely took you by surprise and ignited a little feeling inside your heart. It was a few seconds before you responded, “I don’t want to be apart from you either.”

The room grew silent, and in between the two of you, only deep breaths and lingering gazes behind heavy blinks of eyelashes were exchanged. The sun is nearly set by now, the day nearly spent. Twilight casts the faintest lush glow of orange on half of Leon’s face, and the other is obscured by the dark shadow the light creates. The way it makes him look is practically ethereal, and you can’t help but marvel at his features—the faint wrinkles on his forehead, lines from constant scowling, tiny moles adorning his cheeks, and his perfectly shaped lips.

Your hand starts to drag up, up, until you’re caressing his jawline, cupping his cheek, feeling warmth radiate from his skin when he leans into your touch. 

Leon’s not really sure what it was, or how it happened, but something fell into place right then. A want evolved into a need, then into a desire, and Leon knew, he knew he was done for—but quite frankly, he didn’t care. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, should he? His fingers shouldn’t be trailing under your shirt. They shouldn’t be shaking, climbing slowly upwards until he can study your waist, the dip of your sides, the outline of your ribs. He shouldn’t be losing himself to you, nor should he be allowing you to touch him so earnestly, so intimately. You’re not another person to fuck just to make sure he’s got his head on straight, you’re not someone he could ruin. Way too precious to be doing this with someone like him.

With one hand, you caress his chin, feeling his stubble, and with the other you run up the back of his neck, tangling it in his hair until he can feel tingles throughout his scalp. Meanwhile, he touches you with the delicacy of feather-light fingertips against your skin, like he was scared you might shatter if he wasn’t careful, and the nervousness of unsure movements and trembling hands. And when he does so, he shouldn’t be wanting more. If he shouldn’t be doing this, why did it feel so good, and so right? 

All he knew anymore was right now he wanted, no, he needed you, more of you. More of your touch, more of everything you’d be willing to give him, and then some. He needed you to take him somewhere far away from this world, because when you touch him like this, he doesn’t feel empty anymore. He doesn’t want it to end, even if he should, even if it would be the smarter choice. Truth is, he’s been cold inside ever since that rainy day, and this is the most warmth in his soul he thinks he’s felt since then. 

You’re his partner, nothing more. But in this space away from reality, inhabited by just the two of you, the world doesn’t really fucking matter. 

Maybe it’s because he was a little tipsy, or maybe it’s just because he was high on you, but his mind was a dream-filled haze, and with a budding, lovesick ache in his chest, Leon felt words blossom until they were falling from his mouth like petals, words he thought he would never say again. 

“I love you.”

It came so naturally, as did his affectionate hold on your chin between his thumb and finger, as did the way you whispered I love you too in return without missing a beat.

Do you? It felt like a dream, but if it was, this was one Leon definitely didn’t want to wake up from. 

I do, always have. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. You loved him. You said you loved him, and he didn’t even know how to process it. He didn’t know where to begin. But with you right here, he didn’t think, he didn’t complicate it, he just believed you. He let his heart take control and allowed everything to unfold. 

His eyes dropped to your lips, and then gravity started to pull him in closer, closer, listlessly, his hand seeming to guide you forwards in the same way. His voice was quiet when he asked, Can I kiss you? and your response only came in the form of eyes fluttering closed and your mouth pressed against his. 

His lips were soft, hesitant, woven with sparks, filled with a longing he didn’t even know he had—and to him, yours felt like a dizzying sense of relief. All of his longing, all of his infatuation. All of the times he was so close to you but stopped himself from doing anything more. All of the indirect kisses shared through metal flasks. All of it led up to this. And yet, the moment was cut short when he pulled away almost as quickly as he leaned in. 

When he met your gaze, he smiled, and whispered, “You can kiss me like you really mean it, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His lips sought yours again, but this time they pressed harder, for longer. In between struggles for breath, your mouths parted. Your hands were becoming lost in his hair and you were kissing him much deeper than you ever could have expected or imagined. He tasted vaguely like beer, the ones you both always drink. Comfortingly familiar. 

It had been forever since you’d kissed someone, and never since you’d been kissed like this, so everything was clumsy and messy. The kiss became one he was teaching you how to do, and eventually, you started to get the hang of it. You were hesitant at first, but when he pulled you closer by your waist and you rocked your hips hard against where he was stiff beneath you, all nervousness and any attempt to control yourself went out the window. 

Sucking on his tongue has you feeling lightheaded, and with soft sighs and gasps echoed between each other, it was then that you realized: Leon didn’t just taste like his glasses of whiskey, he felt like them too. His lips on yours felt like the way alcohol leaves a burning sensation on your throat, working its way into your blood until you’re left hopelessly addicted. 

When you pulled apart, he was breathing heavily, eyes filled with lust and an almost divine sense of adoration. Your hand pressed to his chest, the steady beat of his heart thrumming beneath, and you pushed him until he settled backwards. Tender kisses were blessed to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, where he tilted his head up to give you better access, and then you kissed the Adam’s apple in his throat, where he let out the sweetest moan. 

Your lips traced downwards, and where they did, they wrote words Leon wished he could etch forever into his skin. There was a kiss on his collarbone, then one on his chest, over a faded scar. Another, on top of a bruise, and although still sore, the pain was drowned out by tingles of pleasure. 

If it’s possible for heaven to exist on Earth, Leon thinks this might be what it’s like. 

Somewhere down the line, his hand met yours. When exactly? He doesn’t know, but what he does know is your fingers fit into the crooks of his too perfectly to be a coincidence. He knows it’s ridiculous, but it has him thinking perhaps, his hands weren’t meant to fight or hold the grip of a gun. They were meant for something more like this. 

Somewhere down the line more, he’s asking, Can I touch you? and the hand that’s free is moving on its own the second he sees you nod, his palm exploring wherever it oh so desperately wants to. It slips under your shirt, caressing and squeezing your breasts, rolling the nipple between delicate fingers. Callouses morph his touch into a mix of rough and gentle, providing the slightest bitter reminder. 

A moment of clarity finally befalls him when he notices your fingers playing with the drawstrings of his pants. A moment which whispers to him, Hey, this is your last chance to get a grip, are you going to take it? He chooses to pretend he didn’t hear.

Actually, he chooses to go directly against the little voice in his head when he grabs your hand, his fingertips brushing against your knuckles as he starts to guide it down, down, right to where he’s craving it to be. There’s a gnawing hunger for more that festers in his heart, in his stomach, and in between his legs and… for fuck’s sake, when did he get so hard? He’s so turned on it hurts. Was all of this just from a little kissing? 

He’s hopeless. Way more hopeless than he thought, way more needy than he thought. And who can blame him? Sure, he did take his frustrations out on one-night stands before, but that was a long time ago and no one has ever touched him like this or loved him so strongly, not once in his life. Certainly you can’t blame him for being a little desperate. 

So if he wants you to touch him, you will. If he wants you to make him feel good, you’ll make him feel even better, all because he deserves it. He works so goddamn hard, he’s been through so much. He deserves to be happy, he deserves to be pleasured, he deserves to be loved. He deserves to have a break from how horrible the world can be and indulge in something much sweeter.

You know exactly what he needs, and so, you give it to him. Grant him a little taste to hold over his appetite. And God, when you do, Leon’s mind is so far down the gutter there’s truly no hope of saving him.

(Not like there ever really was, anyway.) 

“Fuck,” Leon swears under his breath once you palm the shape of his dick through his pants, nearly stuttering. When he speaks again, his voice is barely uttering the words, but they roll off his mouth so effortlessly that he hardly knows what he’s saying anymore. “Right there baby, shit, just like that…”

It doesn’t take long before his legs are starting to squirm and his head is tossed back, needy moans punctuated by his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His hand flies to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise, and his hips rut upwards in a desperate plea for friction. Even though you’re only rubbing him through his sweatpants, the feeling that pumps through his veins, settles in his core: it’s addictive. He can feel himself sitting thick and heavy against his thigh, leaking out all over it. Your touch feels so damn good he doesn’t even notice when your hand slips down, past the hem, until it starts feeling a whole hell of a lot better.

One less layer of fabric makes all the difference. You can feel the outline of his cock more prominently, big and incredibly hard, the cotton of his boxers damp and slightly see-through over the tip. He needs something to hold onto, anything, so he grabs your waist with a firm, white-knuckled grip.

The way you’re squeezing him and rolling your palm is driving him fucking crazy and he knows he can’t hold back anymore, not when it feels this amazing, not when he wants it this bad. All it takes is one more grind into your hand before he’s on the edge, and when everything is tumbling over, he’s riding it out and letting it happen. 

Cries of your name are entangled with gasps for air as he finishes, cumming right in his boxers. His back arches into you, his entire body tensing before it goes limp. His moans are so perfect, and the way he whimpers even after his release is absolutely adorable. 

You give him a moment to catch his breath and recollect himself, his chest rising and falling with force. You reach up, brushing his messy hair from his face and tucking some strands behind his ears. Then, you lean forward, lips connecting with the nape of his neck. The skin gives between your teeth, and he sighs when you softly suck a deep mark, one you know will last ‘till morning. 

He must be so pent up. That’s the only explanation behind him cumming before he’s barely been touched, before you’ve barely even done anything. There must be so much built up tension, so much that he’s starved for any kind of touch, so much that he’d get hard from just a kiss, from just you sitting in his lap.

You want to touch him more, give him more, give him everything until he’s whole again. You can help him relieve some of that tension, can’t you? 

You pull back, admiring the bloom of dark purple on his neck, before kissing his jaw. Then, you trail up, where you nibble his earlobe, kiss the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Can you keep going?”

Leon’s mind is in a complete daze when he answers, his voice light, like he’s high, “Yeah...” 

Your thumb hooks around the waistband of his pants and the briefs he’s made a mess out of, and he raises his hips to help you pull both garments down just as far as necessary. You know his dick wants to come free so bad, and when it does, it springs up and taps against his abdomen. 

Leon can hear you spit into your hand, hear his heart pounding in his ears like a drum. He knows what you’re going to do, and the anticipation might kill him—so when your hand wraps around him, the surprise causes him to jolt and his breath to catch in his throat. 

His cock has a certain weight to it, a certain curve and thickness which makes your fist fit perfectly around it. Paying careful attention to the high he just came down from, you stroke him slowly, gently, almost in a lazy manner, sliding off of his lap and making yourself comfortable beside him so you’re able to get a more desirable grip. The mixture of his slick and your spit is enough to make your hand glide up and down easily, echoing a soft, wet sound. Your shoulder is pressed to his, and here, you’re able to utter the quietest of words into his ear. 

“Does it feel good?”

Leon nods, “Mhmm...”

“Tell me how good, then.” 

“Really good, really really good… Fuck—” Leon momentarily cuts himself off when your palm swipes against the sensitive tip, his hips rocking upwards desperately, “Please, don’t stop.”

It feels amazing. Being touched by someone else like this, and that someone being the one he’s so desperately in love with. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s making his head spin, like he can see stars. He’s already fully hard again, and he can feel himself fucking throbbing. 

“Do you want more?” 

“Yes,” Leon groans between sucks of air through his teeth. He’s thrusting into your tight grip shamelessly now, his dick sliding in and out of the hole you’ve made with your fingers, to the point where you don’t even have to move it anymore. He’s whimpering, getting himself off on your hand and dribbling precum all over it, all by his own doing. 

“What do you want?” 

“I… You…” His attempts to get the words out mostly end in failure until you hear him swallow, and with a sigh, he admits, “I want to fuck you.”

His comment is direct, way more inappropriate than you thought possible for him to say, and goes straight between your legs. It’s hard to keep up your previous confidence now, but still, you tease, “Do you? How bad do you want it?”

“I want it so bad, I want more of you, I want to be inside you,” Leon hisses, each sentence punctuated by a breath as he fucks your hand, “I need you so goddamn much. You don’t understand.”

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me so badly, huh? I can tell.”

“Yes, yes… Fuck, I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna…”

You jerk him off as his thrusts take on an unsteady rhythm and all of the sudden, Leon is falling apart in your grasp, moaning as he comes all over his chest and his stomach. It shoots out in ropes, and even when he thinks he’s done, it still drips out of his cock, coating your hand and making your fingers sticky. And after everything, even once he’s come, he’s still half-way hard and thrusting slowly into your hand like he can’t get enough. 

You take your hand off of him and he whines in dismay. You lick your fingers first, then shift back on his lap and bend down, dragging your tongue from the bottom to the top. Over his stomach, over his bandages, up his abs and over his chest, all the way until he’s squirming and you’ve licked up every last drop of his cum. 

When you’re finished, you comment, “I think I understand a little.”

“Understand what?” Leon replies, still catching his breath. 

“I mean I understand when you said you need me.”

“I make it that obvious, huh?”

You smirk and plant a faint kiss on his lips, one that makes his heart jump a little in his chest, and then pull back to speak against them, “You always have.”

Leon grabs your chin and goes to drag you in for another, but he’s interrupted when you’re blabbering, “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” and pulling yourself away from him. 

“What?” 

You point to where his arm is wrapped in bandages, “I need to take care of that. I’ll give you what you want after.”

Leon can’t even attempt to hide his disappointment before it’s plastered all over his face. “Are you serious? Can’t it wait?” 

“You’re not going to want to do it later, so no, it can’t.”

He knows you’re right. Once he gets started with you, he’s not going to be able to stop, and either you’re going to forget, or both of you are going to end up too exhausted. He knows he has to listen to you, but fuck if it isn’t frustrating to have to control himself right now. Honestly, he’s not sure if he can, and he definitely doesn’t want to.

He needs you and he’s tired of waiting any longer, so he brazenly asks, “Can you do it while I’m inside? On my lap?”

You brush off the vulgarity of his comment so as to not let it affect you, but it’s hard to ignore the feeling between your legs when you start to imagine it. “I can’t, I can’t multitask like that. I want this as badly as you do, you know.”

“I won’t move. I just want to feel you.”

He seems awfully sure of himself with that statement, so sure you almost believe him, so sure you’re starting to consider it.

“Are you sure you can’t wait?”

“I can’t.”

“You’re annoyingly stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

Leon watched your hands find the bottom of your shirt, where you grasped at the hem and pulled, wrestling it over your head before tossing the article of clothing in a heap on the floor. You reached for your pants next, and he asked, “Is that a yes then?”

“It will be if you help me.” Came your reply, your pants and underwear discarded at the same time, just as hastily. 

“With what?”

Your answer comes in the form of you straddling him, grabbing his hand, and bringing his fingers to your lips. 

The sight that follows is one Leon simply can’t begin to tear his eyes away from. It’s a bit befuddling at first: the way your mouth parts, and the way you lick a prudent stripe of saliva up the length of his middle and ring finger. When you take the digits further, pushing them down your throat, wet and hot tongue swirling around them, Leon’s breath gets caught in his lungs, and it’s there that he realizes what you’re trying to do.

Your mouth strains uncomfortably as his long fingers disappear beyond your lips. “Dirty little thing, this what you wanted?” Leon chuckles, a deep, rumbling one that settles in your gut and warms you to your core. “Coulda asked me to stick them in, sweetheart.” 

His gaze remains fixated to the display. You’re sucking on his fingers, gagging, practically choking on them with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. They’re getting all wet and messy with your spit and drool. It’s such a fucking cocktease, and it’s making him imagine things he shouldn’t be imagining, but things he absolutely needs.

He doesn’t protest when you drag his fingers out, prop yourself up on your knees, and proceed to guide them right between your legs.

His middle finger runs up and down your pussy. He gets it even wetter with your slick before slowly pressing it inside, all the way to the knuckle, watching in a trance as his finger disappears into your cunt. He drags it in and out, in and out, and when you buck your hips to meet his hand, he adds another. His ring finger stretches you out deliciously, and once it’s all the way in, it makes your head spin.

Leon really, really wants to make you feel good, and that’s the only thing running through his mind as he concentrates fully on you. On the feeling of your cunt around his fingers, on your moans, on your beautiful face. He needs to return the favor for you, and he desperately wants to see how you look when you’re overwhelmed by pleasure, hear how you sound when you can’t hold back, and he wants all of it to be because of him. 

“Listen to how wet you are. It feels good, right?” He whispers, “Tell me how it feels.”

“Leon,” The words barely come out, and you’re speaking through tiny gasps when you mutter, “It feels good, really good...”

His name falling so deliciously from your lips makes his heart flutter before it goes right between his legs, making his cock throb. It’s an abrupt, awkward realization when Leon notices he’s been dribbling precum all over his abdomen, and probably all over his bandages too. Damn, between that and him finishing all over them, he’s created more work for you, hasn’t he? 

Leon fucks you with his fingers until your legs are starting to shake. Your walls are so tight around the digits, squeezing them each time he drags them out, sucking them in greedily when he presses them inside.

Leon can feel you tightening around his fingers. He notices your breathing picking up and your body starting to tense. He drags his fingers out and brings them to your clit, and he rubs precise halos right where he can tell you’re most sensitive. They’re so disciplined, so dead on, and fuck, he’s teasing you with them. Rubbing your clit determinedly before slowing down, stopping, edging, before starting up again, and repeating the process. His cock aches just by watching you and knowing he’s making you come undone in this way, so he’s trying to draw this out, make this last as long as possible. 

Your knees feel like they’re going to give out, so you rest your hands on Leon’s shoulders for support. Your breath is coming out in ragged gasps as you feel your release already close, and when your head dips, Leon is using his free hand to hold you up, support you, lovingly muttering into your ear, “C’mon, sweet thing, wanna make you come. Think you can do that for me?”

Everything in your core builds to a fever pitch, and all at once, you’re wrapping your arms around him as you finish, clumsily grinding your hips against whatever part of his hand you can find, making it messy. His arm goes around your back, and he praises while you tremble, voice smooth and resolute, “Shhh, shh, easy, baby. I got you, I’m right here.” 

Leon holds you while you come down, and you almost, almost forgot what your objective was going into all this, until you can feel the bandages on his arm rubbing against your bare back.

You’re a bit reluctant to move, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager for more, eager to get his cock inside you. His fingers were one thing, but they weren’t enough, and almost as if he can read your mind, Leon whispers low and breathy into your ear, “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

He’s asking you, but it’s mostly his way of telling you, of prompting you. Telling you he wants you too, right now. And God, you want it, need it, and you really don’t need him to tell you twice. 

Your hand finds his cock and he sighs as you pump the length a few times, getting it wet with his precum. It’s so hard, and twitching beneath your palm. With how needy he is, it’s impossible to tell he already came two times before this. 

You grasp the base and hover your hips over him, aligning it until the tip presses right against your entrance, prodding, teasing, so close but not quite and making your cunt pulse around nothing. He grabs your chin, tilting your head until he can look at you. His gaze meets yours, and his eyes are pooled with lust, pupils blown out wide, swallowing the blue of his iris.

“Do you want it?” He asks again, unflinching. 

“Yes, I want it, yes…”

“Then take all of it.”

Leon grabs your waist and pulls, guiding you to sink down on his cock. He’s whimpering the moment he’s inside of you, but he doesn’t get greedy, continuing to drag you down awfully slow as he opts to enjoy the feeling of filling you up inch by inch. 

Your cunt is squeezing him so much, sucking him in, taking all of him so well. He’s not sure what to focus on: your face contorted in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, or the near addictive view of his dick slowly disappearing in your cunt, becoming buried further and further inside. The sight is somehow enough to make him even harder, and he can’t contain himself from rolling his hips upward in tandem with pulling you on him further. 

It’s you, it’s him inside you, and holy shit, it’s a feeling that’s hardly set in yet. It doesn’t hit him fully until he’s stuffed into the hilt, filling your stomach, with your weight settled on top of him. In this moment, it feels as though now, more than ever, the love he’d kept hidden for so long is finally tangible, finally real. He almost moves, nearly thrusts up, but he stutters and stops himself before he can once he sees you reaching behind you for the roll of bandages. 

Fuck, he almost forgot. 

“These first,” You gesture to the bandage wrapped around his sides, speaking through ragged breaths, “You got them filthy.”

“I know. Sorry.” 

Despite the calm veneer you’re trying your best to maintain, it’s clear you’re hurrying, unwrapping the bandages with haste and a hint of desperation. They’re tossed to the side without a care when you’re done. Leon’s chest heaves with every shaky breath, so you instruct him to hold it, otherwise the bandages won’t be secure. He complies, and when he does, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it pulse in his cock—it’s near agonizing to keep still, and he hardly can. 

When you’re finished there, you reach for his arm next. Thankfully, this wound isn’t anywhere near as bad as his other one, but the press of the rag against it is still enough to give him a sharp sting. Trying to avoid hurting him too much, you slow down a bit and focus, well, as much focus as the situation will allow. 

Leon shifts beneath you, his hips fidgeting, fingers of his hand still held deft to your waist drumming against your skin just to keep himself busy. You can tell he’s desperate for something more when you feel him twitch inside your pulsing walls. Right now, he’s so enthralled in you, in the feeling of being inside you, in being one with you. It’s not long before the pain blends with pleasure and he doesn’t even notice it anymore. He’ll let you do whatever you want to his bandages while he stares at you, drinking in the view like this’ll be his last time seeing it. 

You wrap the roll of bandages around his arm once. He’s shuddering, and he can’t resist rutting his hips up a bit, just barely so that you won’t notice, but just enough to get an ounce of relief. 

Twice. You’ve almost wrapped up the length of his arm. One more time, just one more time around and he’ll get to fuck you. 

Three times. He’s so dizzy the room is spinning. 

Four times. He can’t handle being teased like this, was now really the time to be this thorough? 

Finally, finally, after the fifth time, you wrap the last of the bandage around his arm, tear it off and tie it. The second you’ve tossed the roll aside, his hands are grabbing fistfuls of your hair to pull your lips onto his. The kiss is frantic, sloppy, and he’s using way too much tongue, but you don’t have the time to correct him, nor does he have the patience to be corrected. 

When Leon pulls away, he wipes the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand while thrusting into you, wasting no time at all to satisfy everything he’d been craving and fulfill the pleasure he was desperately waiting for. His grip on your waist guides you to bounce shallowly on his cock. He doesn’t let you go up far before he’s dragging you back down again, longing to stay deep inside your warm cunt. Each press down has his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, and each thrust up has him moaning a pathetic string of swears, practically whining between every word.

He reaches so deep inside you, and when he guides your body by your waist, it’s not only for him, but for your needs as well. He tilts, curved cock fucking into you at just the right angle to hit the perfect spot like he was made for it. His hips are moving with reckless abandon now, rolling upwards to an unsteady, ragged rhythm.

You hold his face, caress his parted lips with your thumb, feel his hot breath ghosting against your skin, and out of nowhere, he stops. His hips halt as he firmly holds you still, and his voice is rough, a bit hoarse when he gasps out, “Gonna change positions now, that alright, sweetheart?”

You’re a bit confused, but give an affirming nod. Leon pulls you off of him gently, slowly, savoring the feeling for as long as he can. When he’s out, he uses his strength to easily twist you around until your back is on the couch and he’s oriented above you, pulling his pants and boxers off the rest of the way and discarding them on the floor. Dark strands fall over his face in a mess, and he reaches up to comb a hand through, pushing it out of his vision so he can see all of you properly. 

“Are you okay with this? Comfortable?” Leon asks at barely more than a whisper, his eyes locked onto yours as he grips your thighs and tenderly pushes them open. When the couch has no more space to provide and your leg is about to slip off, he grabs it and tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer, continuing to say, “Don’t push yourself. You’re still injured, remember?”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He affirms with the faintest smile. 

Leon’s never been dirty-minded, but when he looks at you, allows his hands to take to your body, palms gliding up every curve of your form, his mind can’t help but wander. You bring out something in him that he’s never experienced before, something that makes him want to have his way with you.

It’s awfully strange to him—that feeling of wanting, of yearning. For so long, he’s wanted a lot of things and never got them, but he’s never desired something this selfish before. Every second of your time, every inch of your body, your everything, he wants all to himself. It feels good to want something, someone. 

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have let it get this far from the start. But after a lifetime of never being selfish, never getting anything he wanted, right now, what he should or should not be doing doesn’t matter. All that matters is you under him. 

His hands settle on your hips, adjusting them until they’re lined up with him, and then he leans down to murmur, Are you ready? and all that matters is the way you whisper back, Please just, just give it to me. I need you.

That’s all it takes. That’s all it takes before there’s no going back, and Leon is fully drowning in this sensation of utter want and utter desperation. He’s so easy to convince when it comes to you, always has been, and if you’re telling him that you need him? Being needed by you is the best feeling in the world, and when you ask him like that, he couldn’t deny you any longer even if he wanted to. 

Leon presses inside you steadily, colliding his mouth with yours and stealing a quick kiss to silence his moans, his stubble tickling your face as he does. You’re still so wet, and he slides in easily, filling you up until his hips are flush with yours and your legs are wrapping around his back, crossed at the ankles.

When he pulls away, he notices your arms splayed above your head. He grabs your hand, linking his fingers with yours, his grip tight, safe, and familiar. Warm, for the first time in a long time. 

He doesn’t move, not at first. He catches his breath, stares at you, at your face, admires everything he finds perfect about it. He can’t stop himself from smiling now, and from the way you’re smiling back, he’s sure he must look like an idiot. So he lets his head fall, burying his face in the nape of your neck, softly mumbling, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

When he finally does start moving, every drag of his cock out is done at an exceptionally slow, meticulous pace, and once he presses back in, he puts his full weight behind the roll of his hips, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly get. His breath is hot and quivering when he moans into your skin. 

“Look at you.” His voice is hoarse as a low groan escapes his throat. “Such a pretty thing. You want me to go faster?”

It wasn’t much of a question, more like a heads-up, because before you’re even telling him yes, Leon’s moving faster. He bites at your neck as he becomes a bit rougher, a bit less contained, but steady—he’s still holding back.

He leaves impressions of his teeth and places wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, sending a tingle up your spine. Finally, he gives you one last kiss before he draws himself away, his eyes immediately connecting with yours. 

He’s so damn pretty. Everything about him is pretty, from his staggered whimpers and moans in pleasure, to the lovely mark you’ve left on his neck, to his hair. It frames his face perfectly, and loose strands he has to keep pushing out of the way stick to his forehead from sweat. No one gets to see him like this, with his hair down, since at work, he makes a habit of always keeping it neat. At work, he’s a totally different person—the D.S.O’s one of the best, if not the best, agent. But here? He’s just yours. 

You’re the only one. The only person who knows how pretty he is, and what he’s really, truly like, under all that grumpiness. You know it’s just a facade, and underneath everything, he’s just someone who wants to be loved. All he desires is a little bit of intimacy, a little taste of something normal, just to feel something. Perhaps, you’re the only one who understands, or perhaps, his warmth is something you draw out of him. 

You bet you’re definitely the only one who gets to see what his face looks like when he’s all hot and bothered, though. 

Leon’s tempo is quickening more, the couch starting to creak under the pressure. He’s breathing harder, and he chokes out as he fucks into you, through gasps of air, “I know you can be louder than that, don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”

If what he wants is to hear you, that’s what he’s going to get, and he’s going to get all of it. 

“Leon, fuck,” you cry out, and you swear you hear him start to hold back his own moans so he can focus on yours. “It feels so good—”

“Feels good? Yeah?” He teases, a little smirk present on his face. He still hasn’t broken eye contact with you, fawning over you with blown pupils and a half-lidded gaze like he’s so unbelievably head over heels. His voice drips with sarcasm when he speaks again, “Haven’t even been fucking you for that long.”

Leon’s grip remains tight on your hand as he drinks in every noise that comes out of your mouth. The sun is well past the point of dipping below the horizon, rays of light starting to fade away. The room is growing dark, growing dim, illuminated by only the faintest glow, but through it all, you can still see the outline of his face, his body. His nose, soft jawline, and broad shoulders. If Leon had more patience, he’d get up and turn on a light, but he doesn’t, so this will have to do. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room. He hardly cares about chasing his own release, just about enjoying it and making you feel good, but multiple times, he finds himself having to deliberately slow down to keep from finishing too quickly. 

He can feel his body tensing up, but each time he gets too close to the edge, he shoves himself all the way in and stays there, letting himself calm down. His cock is throbbing, and holy shit, he wants to cum so bad. So bad that if he moves even the slightest inch right now, he’s not going to be able to hold back, but he has to. He has to when you get impatient, rut your hips against his, and plead, Leon, move. Please. 

He wants this moment to last, so he’s going to hold on for as long as he possibly can, staving off his orgasm until he just can’t take it anymore. He gives himself a couple more moments to come down from the euphoria before he’s fucking you again, giving you everything you want. 

Leon holds himself off, for longer, for further than he even thought possible. Even when he wants to cum so bad he’s fucking delirious, he holds it, focusing on giving it to you just how you want, just how you beg him to.

You’re begging for him to go faster, Fuck me harder, I can take it. Fuck me like you really mean it. And you and him both know, whatever you ask him to do, he’s going to do it. His side is starting to hurt, a little dull throb, but he ignores the pain when it’s overwhelmed by waves of pleasure. 

He’s already snapping his hips again, groaning against your mouth as he presses his lips onto yours, eyes fluttering closed at how perfectly you mold around his cock and take him so well.

He needs you, he needs this, and he’s needed someone to fuck like this for far, far too long. It’s like he’s taking out his frustrations on you, all of his resentment, and all of that pent up desperation he’s had for so long now, everything building and building until it explodes—until he fucks you like he’s unable to quit. 

The sounds coming from the both of you are so obscene, so loud they can probably be heard a few apartments over. Leon is still holding your hand, never letting go, and his grip is clammy and sweaty, but he still holds onto it tight. He can feel you beginning to tense around him, and when he does, he doesn’t relent. He keeps up the same pace, just how you like it, hitting the perfect spot inside you every single time. The way your pussy squeezes around him is making his head spin, and when he once again finds himself right on the precipice, he knows it’s over, he can’t hold back anymore. 

He can’t stop, there’s no way in hell he can. Not with your moans and screams and chants of his name in his ear. Not when your cunt is throbbing around his cock, so hungry for his cum, so demanding of all of him.

His hand reaches down and fumbles to find your clit, and when he does, he rubs clumsy, rough circles that quickly build up a tight coil of pleasure right in your core. His head dips and he presses even closer to your body. Your hand snakes into his hair, fingers threading through close to his scalp where you grab and yank back hard, drawing a needy whine from his lips. 

“Gonna fill you up, plug you full of my cum, yeah?” Leon grunts in between sharp thrusts, voice husky and desperate, helpless, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

He can hardly speak, and each thrust of his hips is sloppy and inconsistent. Between his dick fucking butterflies into your stomach and his fingers messily working your sensitive clit, the stimulation is growing too much to handle, and you can’t deny him. You can’t when he speaks like that, when he sounds like he needs it so goddamn bad.

Before you know it, you’re gripping his hair tighter and murmuring, Do it, Leon.

“Yeah? You want all of it? Then—” He cuts himself off, ramming into you one more time before his hips are shaking, his whole body’s shaking, actually, and he’s whispering, “Take it, take all of it.”

Leon’s holding onto your hand so hard his grip might break it, and his voice in your ear is enough to throw you over the edge. You cry out, cunt pulsing hard around him. The steady throb around his cock feels like it’s milking him, pleading for every last drop he’s willing to give, everything he has left. And he’s going to give it to you, pump you full of his cum and not even let a single drop go to waste.

It’s what you want, after all. 

Everything, it’s so overwhelming, it’s too much, it’s nothing like Leon has ever experienced in his life. He’s shaking so hard and he can’t stop it, and his vision has gone so blurry he can’t see a thing, all he can see is black. He can hardly breathe, just feebly choking on air as he fills you with ropes of his warm cum. When he’s finally done, the feeling that overtakes him is utterly euphoric. 

It’s like he’s floating. His body goes limp, and his heart is pounding, but he’s calm. Incredibly calm, like finally letting go, vulnerable, allowing the waters to take you wherever they so choose. He’s tired, so tired, but not a heavy, exhausted kind of tired. The sleepy kind of tired that holds you tight and weighs you down, that promises to take care of you and if anything, never lets you go.

It envelops him until he’s slipping away, and it’s kind of like, kind of like… 

It’s kind of like dying, isn’t it? 

Leon’s body pins you to the couch as you both come down from your high. The both of you are covered in sweat and smell undeniably like sex. He’s so close, so warm, to the point where you start to feel hot, but his weight pressed on top of you feels nice. It’s comforting, feels safe and puts your mind at ease. 

For a while, the two of you lay there, relaxing and letting yourselves sober up. His heartbeat is slow—you can feel it through his chest pressed up against yours, and eventually, the rhythm of your heart begins to match his. He’s still inside, still holding your hand, but through a much looser grip. His head is nestled in the space next to yours and you can feel his steady breaths fan out on your neck, tickling the shell of your ear. 

He’s quiet, really quiet. His breathing is so deep… Is he falling asleep? 

“Leon?”

No response. None. 

“Leon. Hey.” You squeeze his hand and shift a little bit under him, wiggling like you’re attempting to push him off of you, although there’s clearly no real effort put behind it. 

Nope, nothing. He doesn’t move an inch. He’s got to be out cold. 

“Come on,” You drag your hand away from his to shake him a little by his shoulders, and it seems like your grip disappearing was enough to wake him up a little. He shifts, just the tiniest amount, and you continue, “Leon, I know you can hear me.”

He doesn’t move, again. Just grumbles in your ear. 

You sigh in defeat. Fine, he can lay on you for a little bit longer. His injury might be hurting him. He did work himself really hard, after all. If he’s exhausted, he can rest, he deserves to get some. You run your fingers through his hair, stroking the back of his head, listening to the constant inhale and exhale of his breath. 

The moment is oddly peaceful, considering what just transpired. The room is covered in a thick darkness now. It’s deathly still and incredibly silent, save for the distant whistle of a train passing by somewhere in the city, but it feels like you and him are the only ones to exist in this world. 

Leon is just barely awake, teetering on the edge of falling asleep for real. His weight on top of you and the rhythm of his breathing might be enough to lull you to sleep as well, that is, until he starts mumbling in your ear. 

“Love you. So much.” His voice is groggy and tired, to the point where it’s difficult to tell what he’s even saying. You can make it out close enough, thankfully. 

“I love you too.”

“Thank you.”

You laugh half-heartedly, “What are you thanking me for?”

“Everything.” He replies simply, and finally, he decides he’s ready to get up, pushing himself off of you with a large exhale of breath, his muscles feeling weary and spent. 

He meets your gaze and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You nod. 

Leon’s eyes briefly rake up and down your body before he slowly pulls out, flopping back hard against the couch with an annoyed groan. 

“My side fucking hurts.”

“I wonder why.” You push yourself up on your elbows, staring at him with a knowing look. “I told you not to push yourself too far.” 

“You were the one babbling about ‘Go faster’ this and ‘Go harder’ that. I think it’s your fault.”

“No way… Leon.” 

“Yeah?”

“You got any more drinks?” 

Leon laughed. A real, genuine laugh. Now that’s something he never does. 

“Let’s get dressed. Then, I’ll check it.”

He turns on a light resting on top of a table beside the couch. He outright refuses to allow you to put on your dirty clothes, stopping you when you went to reach for them on the floor. From his room, he brings you some of his clothes, and some for himself as well. He takes care of you first, kissing your forehead as he pulls a shirt over you, gently lifting you by your hips to pull on a pair of his boxers and pajama pants.

He dresses himself next, hastily, before rummaging around his apartment to find where he left his flask. Actually, it’s your metal flask that you leant him at the hospital. He hasn’t had the opportunity to fill it up because he’s been resting at home, so he’s been trying extra hard to make the remaining whiskey last.

How much was left again? There’s probably enough in it. He shakes the flask to check, and… 

So less. Might be just a few sips, actually. Did he really drink that much? It goes by so fast. 

“Here,” he muses, walking over to where you’re laid back on the couch and showing you the near-empty flask. 

“I guess we’re sharing again,” You reply with a smile. 

“Guess so.”

It’s not long before you accompany Leon to the balcony. The night air is cold, and there’s the slightest hint of a chilly breeze passing through. He removes the cap from the flask, breathing in the sweet scent as he brings it to his lips, savoring the smooth whiskey as it goes down his throat. The familiar warmth quickly spreads throughout his body. You stand close, holding his arm, leaning on him. 

Leon can’t help but feel strangely euphoric. Now that he’s getting back to reality and sorting things out in his head, he’s pretty sure he totally shouldn’t have done this. He’s letting himself grow closer to you. What’s going to happen when you die? When he dies? When one of you is killed in the line of work, it’s not going to be fair to the other. It’s not fair to fall in love with someone when you always tow the line between living and dying.

It’s not fair. In another life, maybe he would have a better chance with you. Maybe you two could be a regular couple, be normal for a change. But he can’t change the past, can he? All that waits for him is the future.

And if you die, it’s going to kill him. It’s going to be the death of him, and he knows it. 

“Will you stay the night tonight?” Leon asks, ending the silence, taking a swig out of the flask before swallowing and watching the starry night sky. The liquor immediately soothes his aching body, and with you pressed close to him, all he can feel is total relaxation through his veins. 

“Yeah, I can.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t leave any time soon, then.”

A little smirk forms on Leon’s lips, and as he goes to take another sip, you push against him, pouting. “You were supposed to share.”

“I will. Hang on a sec.”

Leon tips his head back, takes another swig, holds it in his mouth. He turns to you then, and he grabs your chin firm, tilting it up to where he leans over you. In an instant, his lips press against yours in an open-mouthed kiss and your eyes flutter shut in response. 

He pours the whiskey into your mouth slowly and steadily, and when he pulls away, it’s only enough to let stray huffs rise in the space between the two of your mouths.

Leon accidentally swallowed some of it, so there’s nothing more left for you, but the whiskey still pricks at your throat, still gives you that familiar burning sensation. Maybe you should complain and ask him to give you a proper sip, but his kiss is just as addicting as any alcohol, so honestly, you don’t really care. 

“How was that?” He asks quietly, pulling away to give you a chance to breathe. 

“Another?”

He smiles, “Of course.”

He’s so easy to convince when it comes to you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     *

Leon falls asleep by your side. 

He drifts off with his frame pressed against your back. His whole bed smells like him, and his blanket and sheets are soft. As his arm is splayed over your body, his hand is connected to yours, holding gently where it lays delicately in front of your face. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, his gentle embrace clutching you closer to his body, the warmth radiating off of him, his breath hot against your neck. 

For the first time in a long, long time, Leon doesn’t dream of that doomed city, or of people dying right before his eyes. He dreams of something much more serene. His own slice of heaven, in this wretched hell. 

He dreams of a future with you. 

And even though he knows in the back of his mind that it’s going to end tragically, he doesn’t care. Even though he’s aware he’s going to die, you are going to die, and just how soon you both might die, too, he ignores it. Forgets about it. 

It’s selfish. So, so selfish of him. But he’s stopped looking at himself objectively. He’ll only look to the future, with no turning back, and it doesn’t matter how unattainable that future might be. 

He’s going to love you until the end. 

And besides, there’s no one else who’s arms he’d rather die in than yours.

---

Leon showing his honest opinion about the government throughout RE Infinite Darkness.

Leon’s complete lack of reaction when someone praises him and his position in the White House.

This is a job that has been forced on him. It was not something he wanted for his life or is proud of. Being praised for this position means nothing to Leon.

Leon's rage against these specific zombies.

Remember these were not just Leon's coworkers, these people are politicians and agents who directly or indirectly involved in the life he has now and this was his only opportunity to say what he really feels about them.

Leon's impatience with the lack of details about the mission.

He can already feel that something is wrong because US didn't try to hack the enemy before sending them to the field and he is not willing to be manipulated into a mission without a worthwhile cause. He doesn't trust them, he needs to know more.

Leon's resentment and heated speech disagreeing with the government's decisions regarding the Raccoon City incident.

Raccoon City changed Leon forever, not just because of the trauma, but because of everything that happened afterwards. Things the government did and blackmailed him into accepting, threatening his loved ones for it.

And Leon has a lot on his mind that he keeps to himself.

Leon thought killing everyone in the sub were official orders.

He genuinely thought that the murders of the submarine crew were part of the mission the government signed off on for Jason and Shen Mai. He waited for the right moment to confront Jason and find out their (the government) true intentions.

Leon stated the consequences of leaking classified information.

Going against the government is a death sentence and Leon knows this better than anyone since he is in their sights from the very beginning of his career. After years, he understands the risks they pose.

Leon recognizes the government's typical behavior.

Hiding their dirty dealings in plain sight is something Leon has probably witnessed multiple times (even proven in previous games and movies) since most of his enemies become arrogant with the power they get from their privileged position. Wilson is a good example of this.

Leon's final decision.

The decision to go against the government in his own way and try to fight the corruption and bioterrorism from inside is something that appears in many of Leon's stories set after Infinite Darkness.

In addition to all this, since RE2, Capcom always makes a point of stating Leon's opinion about the government in one way or another.

Infinite Darkness wasn't the first Resident Evil that tried to show his resentment and struggle, but it was without a doubt one of the stories that delved deeper into it.

It's a recurring theme for Leon's storyline: showing someone trying to manipulate him, how he reacts to that and his character development over time.

We just have to wait and see where Capcom wants to go from there.

Kiss Me More !

( Death Island!Leon x GN!reader || clingy bf teases u with his stubble ♡ )

“Aw, c'mon pretty baby, you don't like it when I do this?” Leon teases you, big arms wrapped around your torso to keep you in place. His stubble against your neck, you squirm in place, trying to get out of his hold.

The more you moved, the more his stubble tickled against your neck, sending prickly tickling sensations down your skin. Which makes you whine. “Uh uh babe, you're not going anywhere.” He tuts, keeping you in place even more. He peppers your neck in kisses, his lips lingering against your skin longer than usual. He missed you a lot. Missed kissing your pretty face, missed the way you giggled when his stubble scratched against your cheek, the whole nine yards.

His lips travel up your skin, Leon stops at your cheek. “Missed you so much, babe. You know that?” He says into your warmth, soaking it up the best he could with his own.

---