scottleonkennedy

[scottleonkennedy]

No Room for Saints.

Leon S Kennedy x afab!reader.

"Hey!" his eyes snap up to hers through the pain. "You saved me, now let me save you!"

Minors DNI! 18+, GIF not mine, credit to owner.

Warnings: SLOW BURN, swearing, use of Y/N, use of "she" and "her", no description of reader, enemies to lovers..kinda.., blood, fighting, weapons, zombies (duh), descriptions of wounds, helicopter crash, smut (not major but it's there), death, fear. (I think this is it, don't quote me, but lemme know if I've missed anything).

Word Count: 6172 (Sorry..like I said..slow burn..)

The chopper had gone down hard—metal shrieked, fire kissed the treeline, and the world had spun into chaos. Leon came to with blood in his mouth and smoke in his lungs. He rolled, coughed, and instinctively reached for his sidearm. It was still there.

So was she.

Y/N, bruised and bleeding, already on her feet and scanning the treeline like she hadn’t just been thrown out of the sky. Her gun was drawn. Always faster. Always sharper. Always a goddamn problem.

“Still breathing, golden boy?” she said, not looking at him. Leon pushed himself up with a groan. “Unfortunately.” “Pity.” She holstered her weapon and stalked toward the wreckage. “HQ’s dead. Comms are fried. We’re cut off.” Leon stood, wiping ash from his face. “And let me guess. You have a plan?”

She turned, eyes hard. “Stay alive. Stay out of my way.” He stepped closer, jaw tight. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same to you.” They stared at each other, a beat too long. Too tense. Too much history pulsing like a loaded gun between them. Then she turned away. “This mission was suicide from the start.” Leon’s voice followed her like a shadow. Low. Dangerous. “Then it’s a good thing neither of us knows how to die.”

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The forest hadn’t been kind.

They’d limped away from the wreckage just before the fire spread—Y/N half-dragging herself, Leon covering their flank. Rain came down in sheets, soaking them to the bone, masking the blood. They didn’t speak much—didn’t have to. A half-collapsed hunting cabin revealed itself through the trees like some forgotten ghost. It was cover. It was enough.

Now, the air inside was thick—smoke from a dying fire, damp clothes, sweat, blood. Y/N sat against the far wall, breathing hard, one hand pressed to the torn-up mess on her side. She’d kept moving on pure spite. Now she was bleeding through her shirt. Leon dropped their salvaged gear and crouched in front of her. Rain still clung to his lashes. He looked at her like she was more problem than person—but he didn’t look away.

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

She met his eyes, jaw clenched. “You touch me, I break your hand.” Leon exhaled through his nose. Then, quietly: “You’re shakin’.” She glanced down. The tremor in her fingers betrayed her. He moved in slowly, deliberately, giving her the chance to push him off. She didn’t. He lifted the hem of her shirt with care that didn’t match the tension in his jaw. The wound was ugly. Deep. She’d probably cracked a rib too.

His voice was low. Rough. “You’re lucky this didn’t go deeper.” Y/N’s breath hitched—not from the pain. “Don’t start pretending you give a damn now.” Leon’s eyes snapped to hers, jaw tight. He leaned in close, his hand snapping out to grip her jaw, fingers digging just enough to make her feel it.  “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be breathin’.”

Y/N’s breath was shallow, her pulse hammering in her throat from the mix of pain and something else—something she couldn’t name. Leon didn’t move. His grip on her jaw was firm, unyielding, but his eyes were different now. That sharpness from before was still there, but there was something else lurking behind it—something dark, like he was fighting it back.

Y/N could see it.

He was holding back. He didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him crack. But he wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought. “Let go of me,” she said, voice rough. It wasn’t a demand. It was a warning. She wasn’t used to being handled this way. Especially not by him. But Leon didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, his thumb traced the edge of her jaw, the tension in his hand increasing just enough to keep her from pulling away.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he muttered, his voice low but heavy. “And neither are you.” Y/N’s eyes flared, heart hammering faster now, but she stayed still, staring him down. “You’re not the one with a cracked rib and a gash down your side.” “And you’re the one who’s gonna fuckin’ bleed out if you don’t let me fix you.” His words came out through clenched teeth, a growl of frustration. “Shit, Y/N… you’re a real pain in my ass.”

Her lips parted, like she was about to say something—maybe fight him again, maybe push him away—but she stopped herself. The anger faded, replaced by something else, something raw, something far more dangerous. The way his thumb lingered on her jaw sent a shiver down her spine. He wasn’t letting her go. He was keeping her close, pinning her in place without a word. Slowly, she exhaled, breaking the silence. “I don’t need saving, Leon.”

Leon’s grip on her jaw tightened, his other hand curling into a fist at his side, fighting the urge to yank her closer. He was shaking. Not from fear, but from the weight of the need that was clawing at him—the need to keep her here. To keep her alive. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, raw. “You’re gonna make me fuckin’ regret this,” he muttered, his voice low, the warning clear. “But I’ll be damned if I let you bleed out on me.”

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The shelter was dark except for the faint glow of a small fire Leon had managed to get going, the crackling of the flames mixing with the distant sound of the storm outside. The wind howled, rattling the makeshift walls, but inside, the air was still, thick with the weight of what had just happened—and what was still unsaid.

Y/N sat against the wall, her legs drawn up to her chest, the gash on her side still throbbing despite the bandages Leon had put on it. He’d been methodical with the pressure, even when she winced. His hands had been careful, but there was no mistaking the tension in his movements—he was trying to control himself, to stop himself from doing more. She couldn’t help but notice the way he’d looked at her after, like he was deciding whether to say something. But he hadn’t. He never did. Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to look away from him.

Leon stood by the fire, his figure illuminated by the flickering flames. He was checking his gear, though his movements were distracted, restless. He was always like this after something went down. Silent. Guarded. He didn’t talk about things. Not the way she did. Not the way Chris or Jill had.

But then again, he wasn’t like them.

The firelight reflected in his eyes as he glanced over at her. “You good?” The words were simple, but the question hung between them like something more, something they both knew wasn’t just about the injury. Y/N met his gaze, holding it for a moment too long. “Yeah,” she said, voice quieter than she intended. “I’m good.” He seemed to want to say more, but then his gaze flickered away. Like he was fighting himself again. It was maddening. Everything about him was maddening.

“You should get some sleep,” Leon finally said, his voice low and rough. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow.” Y/N didn’t answer right away. She was too busy wondering why she didn’t want to sleep—why the idea of being alone in the dark, even with him in the same room, made her skin crawl. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even anxiety. It was something else, something that felt too close to longing for comfort.

“I’m not tired,” she said finally, almost too quickly. Leon’s lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like he was about to protest, but then stopped himself. Instead, he simply nodded. “Alright,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, his voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “I’ll keep watch.” Y/N didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. They both knew it was an unspoken offer—an offer he didn’t have to make. But he did it anyway.

The silence stretched between them again, more comfortable now, but still heavy, like a storm building on the horizon. They were both too proud, too stubborn to give in to it, but it was there. And then, as if he couldn’t help it, Leon walked over to where she sat, his movements slow, deliberate. Without a word, he draped his jacket over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric was immediate, and she shivered, though not from the cold.

“Here...” Leon’s voice was barely a whisper, a soft sound that barely reached her ears, but it was there—an unspoken care.

He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t have to. His actions said more than any words could. Y/N glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments. There was something in them—something deeper than just concern, something she couldn’t place. But it wasn’t enough to make her speak. Instead, she just nodded, feeling the weight of his jacket settle over her, its presence a quiet reminder of everything between them—everything they weren’t saying. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t need him to say anything at all.

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The storm had passed by the time morning broke, but the chill in the air lingered, seeping into the bones. The sky was overcast, the dull light filtering through the clouds casting everything in soft, muted tones. Leon and Y/N had stayed close to the shelter, both physically and emotionally exhausted from the crash and the fight that followed.

Y/N had managed to sleep, though it had been a restless slumber, interrupted by the sound of her own breathing, shallow and unsteady. The pain in her side was manageable, but it didn’t stop her from feeling every crack of her rib when she shifted. The wound on her side still stung, and she pressed her hand to it absentmindedly as she sat up. Leon, already awake, was preparing their gear. He was methodical, quiet—his usual self, but this time there was something else. The edges of his gaze flickered toward her as he worked, and Y/N caught it once more: that strange tension between them, something she hadn’t been able to shake since the night before.

He didn’t say anything as he moved around the small shelter. His actions, however, felt different. There was care in the way he checked his weapons, in the way he set the last of the food out, as if making sure she ate. There was a subtle softness in him that had been missing before. Maybe it had always been there, just buried beneath layers of training and walls he kept up. Or maybe it had been awakened by the close call they’d had. Either way, she noticed it now.

Y/N shifted, feeling the stiffness in her muscles. “How’s the map?” she asked, keeping her voice casual, but the question hung there longer than it should have. Leon glanced up at her, eyes briefly locking with hers. For a heartbeat, there was something in them—something that felt too close to what they weren’t saying. But he looked away, focusing on the map in his hands. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “We’re a couple miles from the extraction point. Shouldn’t take too long to get there.”

She nodded, pretending that the flutter in her chest was nothing. Pretending that the way he had said “we” didn’t mean something more. They were partners, after all. He was just being practical. After a few moments, Leon handed her a ration pack. “Eat,” he said, voice gruff but carrying that quiet insistence. “It’ll help you keep up.”

She accepted the pack, feeling the weight of his words, the weight of his concern, even though it wasn’t said outright. The way he always took charge. The way he always made sure she was okay, even when he didn’t have to “Thanks,” she muttered, not sure if she meant it for the food or for the care that came with it. She tore open the pack and took a bite, chewing slowly. Her gaze flickered to Leon as he secured his gear, and she found herself wondering how much longer they could keep pretending that things were the same between them.

The ration packs were minimal, but the silence that followed the meal was anything but. Y/N finished eating and leaned back against the crumbling wall of the shelter, her arms wrapped around her knees. She glanced at Leon out of the corner of her eye, watching as he moved around the space, gathering up the last of their supplies.

There was something in the air between them, something that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just the exhaustion, the lingering pain of the crash, or the memory of their close call. It was more than that. A quiet, unspoken understanding hung over them like a weight, unacknowledged but tangible. Her fingers traced the edge of the bandages on her side, feeling the raw skin beneath, the dull throb of pain reminding her that they weren’t out of the woods yet. The wound on her side still stung, and she pressed her hand to it absentmindedly as she sat up.

“Hey,” she spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, too loud in the quiet. “I—I appreciate what you did last night. For, y’know, taking care of me.” Leon stilled, his movements halting as her words settled in the air between them. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His eyes flickered to hers, then away, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“You didn’t have to,” she added quickly, like she could take the words back. “I can handle myself. I’m used to it.” But Leon didn’t look offended or defensive, not the way she’d expected. Instead, he gave her a slow, almost tired look, the faintest hint of something beneath it. “I know you can,” he said, his voice softer than it had been. “But you shouldn’t have to all the time.”

Her breath hitched a little. Something about the way he said it struck a chord in her. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t condescension. It was just... care.

“Maybe I don’t mind,” she said, looking away, a little too quickly. Her gaze locked on the fire, though it was barely more than embers now. The crackling of the wood was the only sound for a long moment. But then Leon was moving again, gathering up his pack. He didn’t respond immediately, and the silence between them stretched again, thick and heavy.

Y/N felt the tension curling in her stomach, twisting into something else entirely. “We’re not gonna make it out of here, are we?” she said abruptly, her voice rough, a little too bitter. She wasn’t sure why she said it. Maybe it was the storm still brewing outside. Maybe it was the reminder of how close they’d come to losing everything.

Leon looked up at her, his expression unreadable. For a long time, he didn’t speak, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to explain or if he just didn’t know how to answer. Finally, he let out a breath, shifting the weight of his gear on his shoulder. “We will,” he said quietly. “We always do.” His words were simple, almost a mantra. But Y/N heard more in them than he said. He didn’t just mean they’d survive the mission. He meant more. He meant her. He meant them both.

Y/N’s gaze softened slightly, and she caught herself. She hated that the quiet between them was so loud now. Hated that it felt like they were standing on the edge of something neither of them could name.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice softer, almost too quiet to be heard over the crackling fire. “I guess we always do.” Leon didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. But when he glanced at her again, there was something in his eyes. The moment stretched, and she felt it—felt the weight of it, pressing down on them both.

For a second, Y/N thought he might say something else. Maybe even something to push through the tension, to break the quiet. But instead, he just gave her a small nod. He moved closer, extending his hand to her. Without a word, he helped her up off the floor, his grip strong but careful as she pulled herself to her feet.

Her heart skipped at the contact, at the warmth of his hand on her arm, holding her steady as she stood.

And then, without a single glance between them, Leon grabbed his gear, moving toward the door of the shelter. “Let’s get movin’,” he said, his tone steady and practical. But there was something softer behind his words. Something she wasn’t sure how to name. Y/N watched him go, her chest tight. She wasn’t sure what had just passed between them, but the weight of it was unmistakable.

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The forest was silent now, the storm having calmed, but the air still hung thick with the damp smell of rain-soaked earth. The path ahead was obscured by the thick trees, the ground beneath their boots soft with mud, and each step made a soft squelching sound that seemed to echo in the stillness. Leon kept a few steps behind Y/N, watching her move through the trees with the kind of fluid grace that came from years of training. She was always alert, her senses finely tuned to the slightest sound, and he found himself following her lead without even thinking about it.

The tension between them was there, just under the surface, unspoken but undeniable. Neither of them spoke much as they walked, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. The weight of the mission, the violence they'd survived, and the exhaustion pressing down on them made the silence heavier than usual. There was a strain in the air, but it wasn’t just from the fight they'd barely survived. It was the quiet undercurrent between them, something unacknowledged yet tangible, like a storm just waiting to break. After a few moments, Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the forest. “Keep your guard up,” she muttered.

Leon didn’t need the reminder. He was already alert, eyes flicking from tree to tree, the hairs on his neck standing at attention. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a figure darting between the trees, too fast to be a shadow. A cold knot formed in his stomach, and without hesitation, he pulled out his gun, moving into position. “Ambush!” he shouted, just as the first zombie lunged from the underbrush, its grotesque features twisted in hunger.

Y/N was already moving, too, swift and precise as she fired, the shot echoing through the trees. But the hoard was bigger than they expected. More figures followed, shuffling, groaning, emerging from the dense foliage like predators closing in on their prey. “Shit,” Leon hissed, shifting to cover Y/N as she fired again, taking down another. But then, the worst thing happened—one of the zombies got too close, and before Leon could react, it lunged at him with terrifying speed, its claws raking down his side.

"Fuck!" Leon gritted his teeth, stumbling backwards as the creature latched onto him, the pain sharp and immediate. He managed to knock it off with a violent shove, but not before it had left its mark. Blood began to seep through his shirt, and the wound burned, the hot pain gnawing at him. Y/N was there in an instant, her movements fluid as she took the creature down with a shot to the head, the body crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud. “Leon!” she shouted, rushing to his side. She didn’t hesitate, her eyes scanning the damage.

Leon's breath came fast, and he fought to steady himself, his vision slightly blurred. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to push himself upright. But he was losing his balance. “Stop. Don’t make me do this the hard way,” she said, her voice stern, even though there was a softness in her eyes he hadn’t expected. He met her gaze, a quiet tension between them, but she was already pulling at his shirt, revealing the deep gash across his ribs, the blood pooling in a steady stream.

“You’re not fine,” Y/N said quietly, but there was no accusation in her tone. She just got to work, her hands moving with a surety that had come from years of experience. She reached into her kit, pulling out the necessary supplies without hesitation, her focus razor-sharp. Leon could feel her hands on him, the tender way she cleaned the wound, her fingers brushing against his skin as she worked quickly. His breath caught for a second—not from the pain, but from the way her touch lingered. He hadn’t realised until that moment just how close she was, how much he was starting to notice every little thing about her. The way her fingers tightened on the bandages, the way she looked at him with that same focused determination.

Despite everything, he found himself thinking while watching her work: Oh shit...

It was a quiet realisation, but it hit him like a freight train. C’mon, Kennedy. You realise that now?!

But he couldn’t say that. Not now. Not in a moment like this.

“Hold still,” Y/N murmured, her brow furrowing as she wrapped the bandage tightly around his side. She wasn’t looking at him, but Leon could see the concentration in her eyes, and it made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected. “I’m fine,” he said again, this time with less conviction. But his voice was quiet, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

“You’re not,” Y/N repeated, finishing the last of the bandage work and smoothing it down gently. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, her fingers lingered for a moment on his side, her touch almost too soft, as if she was trying to make sure he was really okay. Leon swallowed, the words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t used to this. This softness. This care. It wasn’t something he’d let anyone see—not like this.

Y/N stood, finally breaking the moment. “We need to keep moving,” she said, her voice steady but not cold. She gave him a quick glance, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Don't die on me, Kennedy." Leon watched her for a beat, and for the first time, he allowed himself to really see her—really feel the connection between them. The kind of rawness, the kind of care, that made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.

He nodded, his voice a little hoarser than he expected. “I won’t.” She turned, moving toward the path ahead, and he followed. But as they walked, the quiet between them felt different now, charged with something neither of them was ready to acknowledge.

Not yet.

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After walking for hours, their bodies aching with fatigue and their nerves frayed, Y/N and Leon finally make it to the next safe house. The tension between them lingers, building quietly as they move, as if every step brings them closer to something neither of them is ready to face. But it’s there, undeniable, thick in the air.

When the door closes behind them, the warmth of the safe house rushes in, a welcome relief from the cold winds outside. The soft hum of the heater fills the room, a quiet contrast to the silence that still hangs between them. They move around the room, setting their gear down without a word. Their exhaustion is palpable, but the weight of the moment, the unspoken things they’ve avoided, is heavier than anything physical.

Leon is the first to move toward the couch. He drops down onto it with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as the tension drains from his muscles. Y/N follows suit, sitting down beside him, their arms brushing as she settles next to him. The warmth of the room wraps around them, but the space between them feels charged, thick with everything neither of them is saying.

The silence stretches. Y/N’s thoughts swirl, but she doesn’t know how to start. She doesn’t know what to say to bridge the gap between them, so she waits. Then, Leon speaks, his voice breaking through the stillness, softer than she expected, almost hesitant.

“It’s funny…” He swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “I used to think I was fine, you know? I thought I could handle all of this—the chaos, the danger. But now… now I’m just waiting. I’m waiting for the next thing to fall apart. I don’t think I can ever stop waiting.” His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the weight of them settles between them, heavy. Y/N doesn’t know what to say, and honestly, she doesn’t think he’s asking for anything in return. It’s just him—raw, vulnerable in a way she’s rarely seen.

She’s never known him to open up like this, to let that armour slip, even if it’s just for a second. The tension that’s been between them feels different now. The walls between them, ones they’ve both carefully built, feel thinner, a crack they both might be ready to push through.

She doesn’t think about it. She doesn’t hesitate.

Without a word, Y/N leans her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. Her movement is slow, soft, the kind of comfort that feels as much for her as it does for him. It’s not a calculated gesture, just something she does, drawn to the quiet warmth he offers. For a heartbeat, Leon tenses, as if he’s not sure what to do with this new closeness. He can feel the heat of her next to him, the weight of her head against his shoulder. But then, slowly, his body relaxes, and he doesn’t move away. His breath hitches for a second, almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough for him to realise how close they are. How much closer this makes everything feel.

He feels her weight resting against him, and the way his chest tightens, just a little. There’s a warmth there—comfort, yes, but something else too. A shift, a spark, like he’s starting to recognise that the line between them, the one he’s always kept so carefully drawn, might not be as clear as he thought. “Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, his voice rougher than usual. It’s not just gratitude; there’s something heavier beneath it, like the words are too simple for everything he’s feeling.

Y/N stays silent, breathing him in, leaning into the moment. She’s not sure what this is, but for now, she’s okay with it. It feels like more than just a quiet moment between them. It feels like a pause—a pause before the storm, before they both have to face the things they’ve been running from. For now, they’re just two people, sharing warmth in a world that’s anything but warm. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like that’s enough.

The warmth of the room wraps around them like a cocoon, a stillness settling in the space between them. Y/N's head rests lightly on Leon's shoulder, her body close enough that she can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her. For a moment, nothing else matters. The weight of everything—the chaos, the mission, the world falling apart—feels distant. It’s just them, in this small bubble of warmth. She breathes in, the scent of him—damp, slightly metallic from the storm, but something undeniably Leon—filling her senses. The silence between them stretches long enough that she can’t ignore the pull between them anymore. Her heart beats a little faster than usual, and she can feel the soft rhythm of his breathing as he shifts beneath her.

Leon is still tense, unsure of what to do with the proximity, the quiet intimacy that’s developing between them. His hand twitches at his side, but slowly, as if drawn by some magnetic force, it reaches out, grazing the side of her waist before resting there, steadying himself. He stops himself, unsure of the line they’re walking. He looks down at her—her face so close to his, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. The vulnerability in her expression is almost too much for him to handle, but he can’t pull his gaze away. He knows she feels it too, the subtle shift in the air, the energy between them that’s both familiar and strange.

Y/N feels his eyes on her. Slowly, she tilts her head up, the movement almost hesitant. She meets his gaze—those eyes, dark and full of unspoken things. It’s like the air crackles between them, both of them aware of the tension, but neither of them able to break it. Not yet. Her breath catches as she realises how close they are—too close, but somehow, not close enough. She can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the steady thrum of his pulse, and it makes her heart race just a little faster.

Leon’s breath hitches, and for a split second, she swears she sees something in his eyes shift. His gaze drops to her lips—just for a moment, just enough to make her pulse quicken. He’s so close now, she can feel the heat of his breath on her skin, the tension between them thick and undeniable. She leans forward just slightly, her lips almost brushing his. Everything around them seems to disappear, leaving just the two of them, suspended in a moment that’s both fragile and raw. But then, as if on instinct, Leon pulls back just enough to put distance between them. His chest tightens, and he swallows hard, looking away for the briefest of seconds, as if trying to shake the feeling that’s suddenly overwhelming him. His hand, which had found its place on her waist, slides away, but not without lingering for a moment longer than either of them intended.

"Sorry…" His voice is rough, unsteady, but there’s no apology in the words—just an almost desperate need to break the moment before it becomes something neither of them can take back. Y/N blinks, her heart pounding in her chest. The air between them still hums with tension, but neither of them speaks. They both feel it—the pull, the closeness, the unspoken things they’ve both been avoiding. But neither of them knows how to cross that line, not yet. Leon shifts uncomfortably, his hand finding its way to his knee as he looks back toward the door, unwilling to meet her eyes for fear of what he’ll see there.

For a long beat, Y/N stays quiet. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she gently straightens, pulling her head away from his shoulder. She doesn't look at him, not yet—she needs a moment to breathe. To think. Neither of them moves, both of them caught in the silence that fills the room. Neither of them willing to make the next move.

But they both know—deep down—that it’s only a matter of time before one of them does.

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The air feels thick, heavy with the tension of the moment, the looming danger as they race to get to safety. Their breaths are ragged from the exertion, and their nerves are shot. But they don’t stop. Not yet. They can’t.

They’d thought they were in the clear, thought the night would pass without another ambush. But the second they round a corner, they’re met with a throng of zombies, clawing their way through the wreckage of the crumbling buildings. "Shit!" Leon’s voice is a harsh rasp, and he’s already pulling his gun, firing with precision, but there’s too many of them. Too many to outrun, too many to handle alone. "Y/N—move!" Leon yells, grabbing her arm, pulling her toward the alleyway. The sharp tang of sweat and blood mixes in the air, and the adrenaline courses through his veins like fire.

They’re not going to make it. They know it, but there’s no time to think about it.

A zombie lunges from the shadows, catching Y/N off guard. Leon is quicker. He’s on it in a second, a swift pull of his handgun and a precise shot to the head. The creature drops, its body slamming to the ground with a sickening thud. "You good?" Leon’s voice is low, rough with urgency, but his eyes are on her, checking her over.

Y/N nods, but just then—another one. This one bigger. Stronger. Its jaws snap, and before she can react, its hands latch around her wrist, pulling her into its grip. "Shit!" Leon roars, his own anger flaring. He rushes forward, slamming the monster off Y/N with all his strength, and before it can retaliate, he’s shooting it point-blank in the chest. Y/N’s breath is shallow, her body still in shock from the near miss. Leon’s gaze softens for a second, but there’s no time to savour the victory. There’s still a war to fight.

The zombies are relentless. They keep coming, a flood of bloodthirsty rage. But as the last of them falls to the ground with a grotesque finality, the sound of silence returns. Y/N’s pulse races, and Leon can feel it too. His body is close to hers, the space between them smaller than it’s ever been. Their ragged breaths mingle as they both process the fight they just survived. It’s over, but neither of them moves. Not yet. Not until the silence is broken by Leon’s voice, rough and heavy with the weight of what just happened.

"God, Y/N…" His words come out as a low murmur. "You’re fucking incredible."

Before she can respond, he’s pulling her to him. There’s no hesitation now, no second-guessing. The tension that’s been building for days, weeks, is too much to ignore. He grabs her by the waist, his hand gripping the curve of her body like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

She’s almost breathless when their lips meet—hot, urgent. The kiss is savage, raw, like they’re both desperate for something they can’t have—until they can. It’s messy, frenzied, the crash of their bodies against the wall behind them. His hands are on her thighs, lifting her effortlessly, pressing her against the cold, unforgiving surface. She clings to him, every part of her shaking from the intensity, the release of everything that’s been building up between them.

"Fuck," Leon groans into the kiss, his hand tightening around her waist as he pulls her even closer. There’s no gentleness in this. Not now. Just heat. Just need. Y/N’s fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, her body pushing into his like she can’t get close enough. Every inch of her is alive, every breath stolen between the crushing moments they share.

They’re moving against the wall now—pressing harder into each other with every moment, every breath. There’s nothing delicate about it. It’s raw. Unstoppable. They’ve both been fighting against this thing, this pull between them, but in the chaos of the fight, it’s too much. The kiss deepens, the world falling away. It’s nothing but them, in this moment. And then, just as quickly as it starts, it stops. Their foreheads rest against each other, their breathing heavy, their hearts still racing from the adrenaline and the kiss that left them both wanting more. Leon’s hand lingers on her waist, his thumb brushing against her skin, as he looks into her eyes—those eyes that are full of the same intensity, the same need that he’s feeling. "Leon", she whines.

"Shit," he breathes out, the word a ragged whisper. "What the fuck are we doin’?" His hand slips further down her waist, gripping her tighter. He knows what they’re doing. They both do. And now, there’s no turning back. It’s no longer about survival. It’s about needing each other in this world that’s falling apart.

And before he can stop himself, his lips are on hers again. This time, more fevered, more desperate. He’s pushing her into the wall, his body pressing against hers with a force that takes her breath away. Every kiss is like a promise, each one more intense than the last. She meets him with equal hunger, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer. It's a flurry of pushing clothes aside, and getting him inside her, both their head dropping back as he sheathes into her.

For a moment, they forget about everything. The world. The chaos. The monsters outside. It’s just them. Just this moment, as their bodies move together. And for the first time in a long time, Leon knows exactly what he needs—and it’s her.