#first leon fic

[justaz]

just imagining the knights who have grown used to treating merlin like arthur’s consort, letting him get away with all these things, and introducing new knights to the unspoken rules - merlin may not be the consort in title but you better treat him like he is - and carrying that into arthur’s reign as king only for one (1) feast to go horribly, horribly wrong and the knights of the round table are trying to put out these all these fires and calm all these lords and ladies feelings and trying to talk arthur down from waging war and trying to get merlin to talk to the king dammit i don’t care that you’re upset, arthur is drafting up a literal declaration of war please slap talk some sense into him all the while drafting up new rules that HEY actually let’s treat merlin like the queen instead

[sincerelymina]

be my angel

content: re4r leon x female reader. domestic fluff. making out. established relationship. angst elements. author's note: inspired by the mazzy star song! the lack of leon kennedy fluff is concerning. also first time posting on tumblr yay.

₊⊹⁀➴ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55001149

if it weren't for you, leon probably would've lost his mind a long time ago. you were so sweet, so gentle, so understanding—he sometimes questioned if he even deserved someone as unscathed as yourself. it was comforting dating a regular civilian, someone who wasn't exposed to the daily nightmares he faced in his line of work. being so blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world was a luxury he no longer afforded, never did. 

leon hated the sad look that'd cross your perfect features as he left for one of his gruesome missions, that last goodbye kiss that had him tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. the fact that he couldn't tell you much about said missions, given their classified nature, only made him more upset—it felt like wordlessly forsaking you for one-to-two weeks at a time.

oh, but the sweet expression you'd have on your face as you twisted the metal doorknob, the way it lightened up at the mere sight of him. it had leon's chest tightening and breath hitching, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a long, hard kiss. you had him acting a fool, needless to say. 

tonight was a little different, though. the digital clock on the dashboard read 12:47 am, causing leon to scoff lightly under his breath. he disliked coming home late, knowing most likely that you were probably up, huddled on the couch with thick blankets wrapped around you, wishing it was his arms keeping you warm instead. 

leon's gaze then drifted back up towards the heavy rain thrashing vehemently against the ground, the deafening silence disrupted by the droplets pattering against the window and the swiping of the windshield wipers doing their job, giving him a clear view of the road ahead. he was still a good twenty minutes away from home, and that fact alone makes him press his foot against the gas a little harder, damning any traffic laws at the moment. 

though, crashing the car in an attempt to see you sooner was a bit counterintuitive—and he'd be seeing god, if anyone.

once leon finally pulled up to the quaint little townhouse the two of you owned together, he parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into the pocket of his black cargo pants. with a soft sigh, he quietly shut the car door, and walked up the steps to the front door. the rain had calmed down a bit, simply drizzling now. 

knock, knock, knock . his fisted hand gently rapped against the door a few times, but to leon's dismay, he still hadn't heard your footsteps leading up to him. it then hit him that it was one in the morning, and it was more than likely that you'd fallen asleep—possibly from staying up for him. a frown creased onto his lips, upset with himself for coming back so late. even if it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. despite how much you reassured him, leon always thought you could a whole lot better than him.

reluctantly, leon pulled his set of house keys out of his pocket, and slid the metal through the lock, opening the door with a click . inside was dark, quiet…yet peaceful. as he padded across the area, the floorboards lightly creaking beneath his feet, he took notice of how clean it was; someone had used their time wisely, he thought with a smile. well, either that, or you had just gotten so bored out of your mind waiting for him. he was well aware of how antsy you'd get on the days you knew he was coming back.

leon was also now aware of how disappointed you probably were now, seeing as he came back far later than anticipated. 

that's when his eyes land upon you, snoring away softly on the sofa, and—just like he imagined—curled up beneath a warm, knitted blanket. the open tv cast a soft glow across the tidy living room, alongside a few warm-scented candles you had lit. that, alongside the rhythmic thrumming of the rain against the windowpane, made for a very cozy atmosphere. leon took careful steps towards the couch, kneeling down in front of you. 

"i'm sorry, angel," leon mumbled, his voice soft as to not wake you up. he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, the contrasting feeling of his calloused fingers against your soft skin roused you a bit, causing you to stir in place. leon chuckled at your tired grumbles, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

the kiss is what fully wakes you up, instantly jolting upwards, sitting yourself upright. the blanket rustles around you as your sleepy eyes widen, registering the fact that your boyfriend—that you hadn't seen in two weeks—was right in front of you, giving you the softest smile. "leon?" you muttered, still in disbelief.

"go back to sleep baby, we can talk in the morning," he said, peppering gentle kisses across your face. your skin burns beneath his lips, any feelings of exhaustion slowly slipping away. if leon really wanted you to go back to sleep, he damn well knew better than to act all sappy like this.

"no, no, no," you quickly—and incoherently—mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust your eyesight, "it's okay, i'm not sleepy. i was waiting on you anyway," that's when you started to excitedly ramble, "i just…forget about me, what kept you so long?" you raised a curious eyebrow. "something bad happened?"

"nah," leon shook his head, still smiling—god, it felt so good seeing you after so long. "writing up that report took a little longer than anticipated. i'm really sorry, pretty." his smile then shifted into a frown, a soft sigh escaping from the depth of his lungs. "so sorry," he whispered as he kissed your lips for a quick second. 

the look of pure anguish contorted on his sharp features sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. despite how tired you were, seeing leon look so upset over the fact that he couldn't see you sooner made your mind dizzy with love. 

"that's okay. it happens. i understand." you replied honestly. you were aware of leon's job before getting wrapped up in a relationship with him. and you also knew just how much this man loved you, even if he couldn't see how amazing he was. flaws were human, you'd tell him. people tended to forget that—leon might be a zombie-killing machine, but deep down, he was only a man. one with feelings and emotions. 

dating leon made you feel like such a special girl. he was a closed-off, reserved man. just one quick look at him and you could tell that he most definitely could kill a man with his bare hands alone—if he wanted to, that is. he was cold, intimidating, and brutal on the field. but you didn't see that side of him. 

no, you saw a total sweetheart. in your presence, leon was a complete softie. it was actually quite adorable seeing him sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee at the crack of dawn, dressed only in loose pajama pants, his chiseled abs put on display just for you . his blonde hair framed his face so perfectly, the soft strands falling in front of his face. despite being a total fucking unit, having biceps nearly bigger than your face, he was so gentle with you, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. 

at least, he tried to be, but sometimes he got a little… carried away .

you were the person who got to see him leaning over the bathroom sink, holding a razor to the lower half of his face, shaving away the light stubble that had formed after neglecting the duty for a few days simply because he got too lazy. you saw him narrowing his eyes at the god awful instruction booklet that came with ikea furniture as he attempted assembling a new bookcase. you loved the way he would sometimes squint while looking at something afar, then claiming he "didn't need glasses" when you pointed it out. 

it was so raw, so real. 

leon just sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, "you do realize you are too sweet for your own good sometimes, right? you should be upset i was late, i promised i'd be home for dinner." he chuckled dryly, climbing onto the sofa and taking a seat right next to you, sitting above the comforter. 

"i dunno what i'd do without you," his gaze was trained on you, admiring how pretty you were in this state—with messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and puffy cheeks. "i love you so much." would it be too awkward to mention that he'd marry you in a heartbeat at this time of night? probably.

you can only laugh in response, trying to downplay how much his words were affecting you. "you're so corny. i love you too, lee." yeah, if he was so corny, then why was your heart beating of your chest?

leon was being dead serious, even if his execution made it seem like he was just playing around. you were his light in the darkness, his sole comfort amidst his disastrous life.

he slid his brown leather jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. your eyes fall to his arms and how yummy they look in his compression shirt. would it be weird to say you just wanted to take a bite out of them sometimes? lovingly, of course. "i missed you," leon mumbled, his own voice taking on a sleepy lilt. 

"me too." you shook your way out from beneath the thick blanket, scooting closer to your precious boyfriend. you cradle his cheeks with your hands, smiling as you stared into his icy blues. his eyes really were to die for, you could just get lost in them sometimes. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. you go in for a kiss, soft lips meshing with his chapped ones. 

the action elicits a soft, content sigh from leon, his big hands running up and down your back above your thin tank top as the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, lips moving against one another languidly. your chest presses up against his, sending a pleasant rush through leon's veins. when you two pull away for air, a bit breathless and frazzled, you can only marvel at the sight of him before you.

his lips were parted, taking slow and deliberate breaths, his pale cheeks now a little rosy, and his tired eyes now glazed with lust, drunk on your lips alone. you chuckle softly, your hands still cradling his cheeks as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. he kisses the tip of it, allowing you to slid it between his lips for a split second. it's so awfully intimate, causing waves of satisfaction to wash over leon. 

that's when you plunge right back in, this time your tongue slipping past his lips, interlocking with his. he moans so softly, his hands roughly gripping your hips, drawing out a sigh of your own. leon mutters hoarsely, "you're too good for me, sweetheart. way too good. what did i do to deserve you?" he's still so in disbelief that a precious thing like yourself is all his .

this causes you to part again, a slight look of confusion crossing your features. "are you serious, leon? what didn't you do?" you shake your head, sighing. "you're way too hard on yourself, baby. i swear, i've never had a man that's as perfect as you before, regardless of what you might think. you deserve this. you deserve everything after what you've been through." 

you loop your arms around him tightly, hugging him as your bury your face in his chest. your thumb traces little circles on his back, as you whisper, "don't ever think you aren't enough." that was a little something you'd picked up on in the three years you'd been dating leon. he was very unsure of himself. he didn't deem himself worthy of love, no less the amount you poured out for him.

"i love you, in all your blonde glory," you chuckled, not wanting to sound too deep, even if your words carried an incredibly heavy weight.

leon couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions all at once, instinctively holding you even tighter, pulling you close and never wanting to let go of you. not even for a single second. "you're so corny," he mocked, letting out a light laugh as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. god, you fit him just like a puzzle piece.

"it's all your fault, asshole. you started it." you grin, lifting your head up from his chest, and leaning into kiss his perfect lips again. 

"hmm," leon mumbled, a low chuckle erupting from his throat, "guess that's too bad, then." 

finally, after kissing him for a good several minutes, taking labored breaths through your nose, you pulled apart, a thin trail of your mixed saliva following suit, now dripping down your chin. you chuckled, wiping it away with the back of your hand. your hips shift a bit suggestively as you climb off of his lap, causing leon to inhale sharply. 

"you need a shower. i'm going to bed." is what you say with a snicker as you turn on your heel, padding across the wooden floors to your shared bedroom. leon just scoffs, and shakes his head, watching as you stumble away from him.

"that's not fair." he grumbled to himself, his hands falling to his thighs.

he did tell you to go back to sleep earlier, though. damn it. 

[adollrable]

Under the same moon.

✧ summary: where it's your birthday and your boyfriend is on a mission far from home.

✧ cw: female reader x leon kennedy (re4r), fluff, just him being a cutie pie and the boyfiest boyfie ever (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿

✧ wc: 1387

a/n: I'M SCARED, this is my first time writing something COMPLETELY in english so... if something looks kinda silly forgive me 😞 english is not my first language but feel free to give me feedback!

my birthday was two days ago and i kinda want it to write something so, if someone is reading this on their birthday, happy birthday!!! 🤲🏻

11:45 PM. You were pacing around your apartment. Brushing your teeth, doing your skin care routine, pulling out the softest cotton sheets you have at your disposal.

You looked at the calendar that sat on the nightstand next to your bed, your eyes drifting towards the next day's date. Your birthday.

You weren't that excited, the printed number that indicated your day of birth wasn't marked with a red marker that circled it. The date Leon would return was.

Originally, your boyfriend's absence wouldn't interfere with your birthday. He would be with you on your special day. But you thought back to the call you had with him a few days ago, with him trying to get a signal to tell you that he couldn't make it on time and that he was really sorry.

You understand. It doesn't bother you, but you wish he was by your side now.

His job was complicated, and he explained that he couldn't tell you much from it. As far as you know, he's in Spain, rescuing someone. You don't know who, but it must be someone important.

11:55 PM. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until another return to the sun happens for you.

You laid down on your bed, covered by the sheets that hugged your body. You took the pillow that Leon usually uses and wrapped both arms around it, seeking comfort to avoid missing him so much.

Tomorrow would be just another day. Sure, your friends will congratulate you, you will receive calls from your family at extremely early hours of the morning, and you will repeat "thank you, I appreciate it" like a broken recorder for each call and message.

Gifts don't matter, much less a cake, or a party. The only thing you want is for the love of your life to return soon and you can be together.

Rolling between thoughts, you were able to fall asleep.

12:00 PM. Finally your birthday.

Your cellphone vibrated with every message that one of your friends or your family sent you congratulations. The light from the device breaks into your not-so-deep sleep, since not even ten minutes had passed since you closed your eyes.

Sheet off you, you stopped hugging the pillow and with a soft grunt reached for your phone, checking notifications with squinted eyes.

You lowered the brightness of your cell phone because of that annoying burning in your eyes and now with more comfort, you wandered around the notifications you had, until one caught your attention completely.

Leon ♡: "Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much."

A smile began to form on your face, and without hesitation you unlocked your cell phone to answer him.

Thanks, Lee :( I miss you and I love you

You weren't expecting a response, after all, he must be busy, right? In Spain it must have been your birthday hours ago, but he still bothered to wait for it to come where you are.

Leon ♡: I miss you too, how have you been?

You didn't think he would have time to respond, but you also didn't want to spend three days without hearing from him, so you took advantage of the opportunity.

I've been fine... I haven't done much, just work and back home :( how about you?

Leon ♡: Tired, but all good. Missing you most of all the time. Tell me, have you done anything interesting?

Does missing you count? :[

Leon ♡: Yeah, it counts, sweet thing. I want to tell you something, okay? But let me call you first.

The fact that he was going to call you made you feel good, he may not be with you on your birthday and he is supposed to arrive days later, but one call is enough to lift your spirits.

You were going to answer but your screen lit up with your boyfriend's contact name and the buttons to answer or hang up the call. You pressed the green button and put it on speaker, placing your phone on your chest with a smile. "Hi..."

"Hello, birthday girl." His voice... You could spend hours listening to him speak, even if he was talking about the most boring topic in the world, you would pay attention from start to finish. "How's my baby doing?"

You giggled, there really wasn't much to say, your birthday had started less than an hour ago, "No crazy, exciting party... My friends have congratulated me, as has my family. My parents must be asleep at this time, so I guess when they wake up they'll call me."

"Yeah, they must be resting at this time, huh. You should, too. It's only because of your birthday that you stay up so late." He answered and you could hear his smirk over the phone, making you blush slightly.

"Of course not... I can sleep late whenever I want." And even if you wanted to, you know it's not possible. Once you get home from work and settle into your boyfriend's arms to sleep, you fall deeply into the arms of Morpheus. It's hard not to sleep well when you have a giant boyfriend pillow. "I can't sleep without you here."

"I know, baby, I know... I can't sleep without my sweet girl hugging me like a damn teddy bear." He chuckled and you did it too. Both of you fell into a small silence, it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. "Hey, baby?" He began, as you settled into the sheets.

"Mhm?" You asked, as you looked at the moon through your bedroom window. Her brilliance seeped in and was strong and radiant.

Watching the moon always gave you a certain comfort, knowing that no matter where Leon is, both of you will always be under the same moon and firmament of stars.

A laugh came through the speaker of your cell phone, the same laugh that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Did you see how beautiful the moon is?"

You smiled, humming a small "mhm" in response, before adding, "Yeah... It's full and very pretty. I wish you were here to watch it together."

Leon let out a small sigh, "Yeah, me too, what if you ask the moon for that?" You chuckled this time. It was a silly thing to do, but, why not?

"Like a birthday wish? But if you know it then it won't come true." Leon could hear the pout in your voice, and he smiled to himself. "Maybe there will be an exception this time." He murmured. "Come on, babe. Do it."

With your eyes closed, you let out a sigh, wishing with all your being that Leon could be by your side as soon as possible, and after a few seconds, you heard him speak, "Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I did... Time to wait I guess." Your gaze met that radiant crater that was seen in its maximum splendor, until something began to click in your head.

"Did you see how beautiful the moon is?" There is supposed to be approximately six hours between your location and Spain, so it was impossible for Leon to see the moon shining in its entirety, but you tried not to give too much thought to the matter, since the moon can also be seen during the day, although at lower exposure.

But if he talked about the moon... And how big it looked... That could mean that maybe he...

"The stars look very bright too." He added after.

"But, you know what I think is more bright?" He began, while his footsteps were heard on the cement, signaling that he had begun to walk.

Until he stopped.

"The brightest thing I'm going to see is your face when you look out the window."

That made you get up from your bed, phone in hand while with clumsy steps thanks to the sheets rolled up between your legs, you reached the window and realized everything.

He is here.

And when he saw that look light up on your face, he knew that the moon was nothing compared to how radiant you looked. "Hey, birthday girl."

It seems like the moon was the perfect alibi for Leon to sneak in and surprise you.

Or simply the moon heard your wishes, and fulfilled them on your special day.

a/n: OKAY... I'M STILL NERVOUS I PUT THIS ON THREE DIFFERENT GRAMMAR CHECKERS BUT I'M STILL AFRAID i suck at writing tbh but this idea was scratching my brain and i thought Hmm why not SO!!! i hope y'all like it :] i appreciate likes and reblogs annnnnd comments i love comments!!! feel free to give me tips to be better at writing or something THAT'S ALL BYE-BYE 🤲🏻

[bowrapped]

burning for you

feline hybrid!reader x older!leon

tags: 18+, porn without plot, cis!afab!reader, owner/pet dynamics, daddy kink, mating/heat cycles, breeding kink, praise kink, hand kink, dd/lg-like themes, established relationship, surprisingly soft?

4.3k words

notes: i took the plunge and finally completed an nsfw fic based on some of my submissions to @lipglossanon as 🎀 anon! i hope y’all enjoy :)

crossposted to ao3

The front door subtly clicked as Leon unlocked it. Usually, you would already be headed to the door in greeting, your sensitive ears picking up his presence from the smallest of noises. This time, however, you were nowhere to be seen, and Leon called out to you as he shed his various accoutrement and walked deeper into the home.

Life with a hybrid had come with solace and routine for Leon, though it was a bit touch and go at times. You had a penchant for digging into his dirty laundry, wrapping yourself in sweaty workout clothes that you swore smelled divine. You were incredibly affectionate, something that both comforted and occasionally confounded Leon. You sweetly stayed by his side, purring as your long tail swished with affection. That’s not to say you were clingy—just honest in your feelings for the older man.

All of these factors were even more pronounced during your heat cycles. Leon knew another was coming soon, and he had a hunch it had come a bit early in spite of his preparations.

The thought was practically confirmed when there was no response to his calls. Leon quickly moved to his bedroom, past experience guiding him to your likely whereabouts.

As expected, he found you curled against his sheets and an assortment of his clothes. Your hands were bunched in the pile of fabric, pointedly refraining from touching your lower body while your thighs pressed together—trying and failing to find relief.

In his presence, you merely whined and curled yourself further into the makeshift nest around you, seemingly unable or unwilling to move very far.

Leon moved to sit on the edge of the bed and sighed, “There you are.”

You quickly shifted from your spot, your face pressed into his side as your hands tightly gripped his shirt. Your body was so tightly strung that you were near tears as you clung to your owner. Voice high and desperate, you cried into the cloth, “I needed you—need you so bad, Daddy.”

Daddy. The name had been your suggestion. You’d asked to call him that from the beginning, stating that it encompassed everything you dreamed an owner would be. A caregiver—someone who would love you unconditionally. His heart had melted at the confession, and he couldn’t help the twinge of arousal hearing the title from your lips. He diligently kept the expected promise of the name, and spoiled you just as it suggested. Middle age was surely softening him, but he wouldn’t focus on that now.

Leon easily untangled you from his side, gathered you in his arms, and sat against the dark wooden headboard. You were pliant as he settled you in his lap, back pressed against his chest and legs resting outside of his. Still, your hands clung to the muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

“Poor kitty,” Leon cooed as he guided your hair to the side, careful not to muss your pointed ears. His lips grazed your heated skin, stubble slightly tickling you as he went, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier, but I’m here now, alright? Daddy’ll make it better.”

“Daddy, please, I—“ you mewled as Leon mouthed and nipped at your neck. “Was so good. I didn’t touch myself just like you told me to. Been waiting for you. Been so good,” your breath was heavy while you babbled, desperate for Leon to touch you.

He hummed in interest and smiled softly at your words—though you couldn’t see it. That rule was another staple in your dynamic, not born from sadism, but what Leon considered necessity.

Though you’d gotten better, you still had a tendency toward messiness. While he couldn’t fully fault you, he still needed to set some ground rules. Coming home to the sight of you grinding against his pillow was hot in the moment, but the extra laundry to be done after the fact was another story.

“Is that right?” He continued to press kisses into your nape as his hands roamed across your clothed chest, “That’s my girl. Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

You preened under his praise, chasing the large, rough hands that languidly explored your upper body over the threadbare fabric of Leon’s old tee. Your smaller fingers wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to pull his hands lower. You needed his fingers on your clit, in your cunt, anywhere that could give relief to the burning heat threatening to consume you.

Your body relaxed against Leon’s as he easily followed your lead. The feeling immediately dissipated when he didn’t go further down, but lifted your shirt hem instead.

“Daddy…” you grumbled. Your disappointment was evident, but Leon still pointedly ignored your spread legs and instead exposed your chest to the cool air of the room.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low in his chest. “Want to give you some attention here first,” his calloused palms rested underneath your breasts, “We can’t have them feeling left out, can we?”

A high moan caught in your throat. You wanted to argue, to pull his hands down again, but you merely held onto his wrists as he continued to caress you. Your want to follow Leon’s somehow won out over heated desperation.

He caught your pebbled nipples between his forefinger and thumb, rolling and tugging them before grasping your breasts once more. You arched into his calloused hands, pleasured whimpers unmistakable in spite of your discontent.

“There you go…” Leon’s voice was soothing. “I know it’s hard, but just let me play a little.”

You let him. You always did. In your mind, Leon hung the stars, and you consistently followed him even when you protested.

It didn’t help that the rough attention he gave your breasts was a dizzying combination of too much and not enough. Your mind would be muddled regardless, but it was especially so now.

Neither his ministrations, nor your keens wavered as he spoke, “So sensitive here, sweetheart…Makes me wanna use my mouth on you—kiss you until you couldn't take it anymore.”

Your ears were downturned at his words. You knew you would take whatever Leon gave you, but you didn’t know if you could take that much teasing in your current state.

Leon huffed a laugh into your neck, ”I would, too, but you want me somewhere else, right?”

You immediately nodded, your hands again attempted to guide him between your legs. Leon’s arms remained firm, as did his tone, “C’mon. Gotta use your words for me.”

“‘M sorry,” your voice warbled, “I do.” You tugged his wrists again, succeeding this time in moving his hands further downward.

Leon’s fingertips grazed the frilly top of your panties as he playfully feigned ignorance.

“Here?” he questioned, a teasing smile on his face.

Your tail flicked in discontent as you immediately spread your legs even wider for him. “Yes. Please touch me, Daddy. I need it. Need you so badly.” Your hips canted upward, seeking friction that wasn’t there. The ache between your thighs was all-consuming, and you were desperate for the relief you knew Leon could give.

Leon gently patted your hip, “Alright. I’ll give you what you need, okay? No more teasing.”

He snaked his right hand underneath your waistband. His free arm wrapped firmly around your waist—an anchor for you as well as a way to keep you still. The wet spot you left on the white fabric was almost translucent on Leon’s hand as he gathered your slick on his fingertips.

His fingers easily glided across your entrance and up to your clit. You immediately bucked at the contact, but Leon’s arm didn't budge from its place across your soft stomach as he held you against him. His touch started in slow circular motions so as not to overwhelm your sensitive body.

Still, your hips desperately attempted to chase his hand, and you whined in both relieved pleasure and indignation at Leon’s stilling grasp. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he cooed.

As much as you wanted Leon to rush with you, he often opted to take his time. In addition to his penchant for teasing, you were precious to him, and he wished to convey that in part with how he handled you in intimate moments—at least until you urged him enough to do differently.

Leon’s languid caresses grew stronger as he guided your overstimulated body. Sloppy, rhythmic clicks and vocal, heaving breaths announced your desperation to the otherwise silent room. His fingers swept across your clit and down your soaked cunt where he began to work his fingers inside you. Your muscles immediately tightened around him, trying to pull his digits further in.

“Hah—Daddy,” you cried out, body still trying to move with the rhythm of his hand. The heel of Leon’s palm grinded against your clit as two of his fingers curled inside you. You lurched, moans caught high in your throat at the intense feeling. Your dulled nails gripped Leon’s forearms. The unfounded thought of him removing his hands had you scrambling to keep him in place.

With your limited movement, you arched back into Leon as you chased the stimulation of his hand. The feel of his hardening cock underneath you only spurred on your growing climax. The air was filled with your high-pitched cries and the lewd wet sound of Leon’s fingers moving inside of you, “Fuck—please, don’t stop, Daddy.”

A low hush brushed against your skin. “It’s okay, I won’t stop,” his lips were hotly pressed to your ear as he attempted to soothe you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Leon’s soft words and strong grip were grounding to your overactive mind. Though your hand was tight on his own and your cries didn’t fully cease, your body still minutely relaxed into his.

“Atta girl,” Leon murmured, “You’re alright. Just need to let Daddy take care of you.”

He pressed his palm harsher against you, trying to guide you over the edge, “Want you to cum on my fingers first. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm. I can,” you hiccuped, “Wanna feel good. Wanna be good for you, Daddy.” You continued to chase your high, grinding down on Leon’s hand as he pressed a third finger alongside the others.

His voice kept rumbling softly in your mind, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t grasp any of the words spoken into your tufted ear. Your attention was solely focused on your impending climax and the sight of Leon’s hand between your legs.

Your eyes followed the flexing tendons in his wrist down to the hand half-hidden by soaked fabric. A part of you yearned to see his hand work against you, unconcealed by the frilled garment. Another loathed the idea of losing his touch at all.

You didn’t have to ponder the dilemma for much longer as your climax encroached the forefront of your mind. Leon’s hands and voice were both quickly guiding you toward your peak, and you followed the feeling with abandon. Your body had been left wanting, but now it could finally get relief. You trembled in his arms, ears folded and brow furrowed in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he drawled, “Know you can do it, baby.”

The knot in your core continually grew tighter under Leon’s rough hands and gentle coaxing. You fell over the edge easily. Your nails and mind latched onto the whispered promise of relief and a full cunt. Later, you’d be apologetic at each of the marks you left on Leon’s skin, but the thought was far away in the wake of your climax.

Your ears buzzed as the feeling swept you under. Leon worked your body through it, his fingers sticky with your release.

“There you go…” he cooed. His touches slowly transitioned from strong presses to soft caresses that left your body quivering.

Your chest heaved on the pleasant come down. Yet still, you felt empty in spite of his fingers. Heat demanded one thing from you, and the yearning ache in your core would not let you forget that fact.

You impatiently pulled his hand from your panties and interrupted its languid dance across your pussy. His fingers separated, and the semi-translucent strings connecting them instantly caught your eye.

Without thinking, you ran your textured tongue up his salty-sweet palm. “Daddy,” you spoke against his skin. “Wanna keep going,” you captured his fingers between your lips, catching his knuckles on your canines and muffling your voice, “Please?”

You lost yourself in your owner’s calloused hands. You had always been enamored with them and their ability to treat you with both stern guidance and delicate finesse. Today was no different.

Leon’s grip tightened around your waist. As much as (or perhaps, because) he loved it, attending to you had left him painfully hard and wanting. The feel of your warm mouth and the unintentional satisfied hums reverberating in your throat did little to help.

He shifted his fingers against your tongue, coaxing your mouth open when he spread them. You chased the thin bands of saliva connecting you, gathering his fingers back into your mouth in a meager attempt to clean them.

Leon’s eyes were fixed onto your mouth as he breathed, “Alright, baby. Just need you to get up for me, okay?”

Your lips relinquished their hold on Leon’s hand, now only slightly less messy than before. You quickly adjusted your position—poised on your knees, presenting yourself regardless of your semi-clothed form. Your tail swayed above you in silent beacon as you awaited his response.

God. Leon was sure you’d be the death of him. He’d expected you to simply shift, to sit between his legs and face him while you anticipated his next words. Normally, you would, and Leon felt this boldness was a side effect of your biology-induced desperation. Either way, he couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

His hands easily rested on your hips as he knelt behind you. One rested at your tailbone, your soft fur nestled in the cradle between his index finger and thumb. The other teased at the line of your underwear in the silent promise of removing the garment.

“Shit,” he sighed, “Almost too pretty for your own good.” His palms were hot against your skin, unmoving but firm.

You shivered underneath him when you realized the image you likely projected in that moment. You, half-clothed with tousled hair and your hips high in offering. Him, still in the base of his work clothes with only flushed cheeks and tented jeans to betray his lust.

Fighting the urge to grind back into him, you let Leon explore your body at his own pace.

He silently stroked the base of your tail as his eyes and free hand roamed over your body. A low purr vibrated in your chest. Though the heated ache persisted, you always indulged in any attention Leon gave you.

Leon had a strong teasing streak—something that had seriously frustrated you at first. In your mind, you didn’t know why you would deny yourself when you could instead be honest and proactive in your desires.

With time, you learned that while it did partially come from a place of mischief, it mostly stemmed from appreciation. He wanted to take his time with you, lathe affection on each inch of your skin, and cement that you were his to cherish.

His hand shifted across your ass and down to the gusset of your panties. Your hips jumped when his thumb ran a smooth line down to your clothed clit.

“Daddy…”

Though you understood his teasing, it didn’t mean you were never impatient in the wake of it.

Leon gently hushed you, “Want to take my time with you for a little longer. Just be patient for me.”

You breathed in quiet pants as his light touches continued. He pulled the damp cotton down your thighs, smoothing your puffed tail as it threaded through the makeshift hole in the fabric.

His hand again found its place between your legs. You jerked under his touch as his thumb ran along soaked skin. Before you could fully sink into the feeling, it seemed to leave almost as soon as it arrived.

You turned back to protest, but all impatient remarks caught in your throat when you caught his eye over your shoulder. Leon mirrored your earlier actions, albeit much less messily, savoring what your body left on the pad of his thumb.

Noticing your reaction, his eyes creased at the edges. “You made it look so good, thought I needed a reminder.” His free hand revealed more of your face from under your mussed locks, “But that can come later, right?”

He shifted back, deft fingers quickly undoing the clasps of his well-worn belt and deep blue jeans. A low sigh escaped him as he freed his cock. Precum beaded at the flushed tip, belying the composure he’d shown thus far.

You reached for Leon’s hand in a silent plea, and he quickly tangled your fingers in understanding.

A high moan rushed from your throat as he slowly guided himself into your welcoming heat. The feeling of him was not new, but it was nevertheless overwhelming. Your mind was awash with him. The dull burning stretch of your muscles, the warmth of his hands on your sides, and the timbre of Leon’s voice all swam in your muddled mind and culminated in slurred gratitude.

Daddy—thank you, thank you, thank you…!

“Shh, don’t gotta thank me, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You hiccuped a relieved sob at finally being filled. Your face burned—though you couldn’t dwell on your outburst. Instead, your breathing was heavy as you tried to relax around him. Wanted as it was, the insistent press of his cock was heady in your cotton-filled brain.

Leon let out a low moan as your body greedily took him in. In spite of your shared desperation, he kept his pace slow and his touch gentle. His hand squeezed yours in reassurance, and he quietly called your name. “Talk to me,” he coaxed, voice rough in his throat.

You nodded earnestly, one side of your face against the bedsheets, “I’m okay…” your voice trembled, “Sorry.”

He chuckled, “It’s alright. Don’t want to hurt you, that's all.”

“You won’t,” you grinded against him as you deepened the arch of your back, goading Leon further, “I can take it, Daddy. Please?”

“Fuck…” Leon hissed, his hips involuntarily following yours. He pressed your intertwined hands into the mattress, “I can never say no to you, can I?”

Your voice was lost in your throat, and the rhetorical question was simply met with pleased mewls as he finally moved. Obscene wet noises resounded from where your bodies were joined. The sound mingled with your voices in an unorthodox symphony.

Leon’s hand untangled from yours, moving to firmly grasp your hip. With it, he guided your body onto his, thrusts heavy as he fell into rhythm. His eyes trailed down the glistening line of your spine to where the two of you were connected. Your cunt wrapped tightly around him, seemingly trying to keep his cock nestled deep inside.

“Can’t help but spoil you.” Leon’s voice was low and rough as his eyes remained on you. A white band of your arousal already began to gather at his base—another mark of explicit honesty from your tightly wound body.

Each of your cries were muffled into the mattress as he fucked you. Your pleasured babbles were almost unintelligible to Leon as you continued to hide from him.

Muscular arms gathered you close to his chest, your damp skin hot against his own. Your head lolled to the side in a meager bid for him to move higher as he placed more forceful, heated kisses along your shoulder. “You don’t need to hide, sweetheart,” he murmured, stubble now rough against you. As he spoke, one of his hands trailed down to your soaked cunt.

It easily found its mark, rubbing quick circles along your clit and further coaxing you to your climax. You bucked in his grasp at the added stimulation. Your hands clutched his forearms as they searched for an anchor. You were certain his grip was the only thing keeping you kneeling on your shaking legs.

Your words were interspersed with whines and moans as he continued to move inside of you, “‘M sorry, Daddy—just feels so good.”

You could feel his smile at your words. “It’s alright,” he breathed, “Just let go for me.” His other hand found its way to your breast, cradling it in his palm. He let his thumb trace circles across its peak, his movements gentle yet purposeful.

Your voice continued to fill the room in tandem with the sound of your bodies moving together. Each of Leon’s touches had you barreling toward your peak.

Your tail trembled against Leon’s chest, and you whined high in your throat, the vibrations reaching Leon’s lips as he kissed your fevered skin, “Daddy, ‘m so close—please.” You weren't sure what you were asking for with your pleasure-slurred words. You just knew you didn’t want him to stop.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. He continued to rub your clit as he pressed his lips against yours in a messy kiss. His heavy breaths mingled with yours as he spoke, “Daddy’s got you. It’s okay.”

His movements became more forceful, his hips pumping into you faster than before. His encouraging whispers and forceful touches remained as you reached the edge.

A final coo from him had you tumbling to your orgasm. Your body shook in Leon’s grasp as he fucked you through it. You almost chanted his name and given title like a prayer as you crested over each wave of pleasure. Your cunt tightly squeezed around him. Leon’s resulting groan was lost in the rushing of your ears.

He continued to thrust into you, feeling his own release beginning to come soon after yours. “Oh, fuck,” he choked back a whine, his breath hot against your sweat-dampened skin.

You reached behind you, hooking your fingers into what you could of Leon’s thigh. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged—desperate for him even now, “Wan’ it inside.”

Leon’s cock throbbed at your request. The admission wasn’t new by any means, but it was no less spurring. His arms snaked closer around your waist, seeking more leverage to buck his hips upwards into yours.

“Okay, I’ll give you what you want, baby. Give it to you,” he rested a palm just under your navel, “right here. Right where it should be, hm?.”

You clenched around him again, eliciting another pleasured hiss from Leon. “Yes! Want it so bad. Wanna be full. Need to be full, Daddy,” your frantic pleas continued.

Your trimmed nails pressed small crescent moons into Leon’s skin as you clung to him. You reached between your legs, already seeking another release as Leon chased his own.

“Shh…” Leon soothed you, rubbing his hand along your side. “It's okay. I won’t stop.” He deftly replaced your hand with his own, his larger fingers rubbing quick circles against your swollen clit.

“Just a little bit longer, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “Then I’ll fill you up. Try and make you a mommy. Would my pretty girl like that?”

Your body prickled in arousal at Leon’s words. You nodded jerkily, words slurring while you trembled in his arms, “Please, Daddy, I want that s’much. Wan’ you to get me pregnant.”

Your heats often lead down this line of talk. Leon wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but he always indulged you. He also couldn’t deny that the idea of it taking, leaving you glowing and full of him months down the line had his abdomen tight with want.

Leon held his hips flush against you as he reached his peak. He cursed lowly into your neck while his cock throbbed, filling you with each movement. The warmth spreading within you along with your owner’s goading words sent you over the edge again with him.

Your bodies fed into each other’s pleasure in a dizzying loop. Each clench of your muscles caused him to grind more harshly into your cunt, filling you further as you milked his release.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” your words strung together as you came around him. Your tail wrapped loosely around his waist in a meager attempt to keep him in place.

He held you tightly to his broad chest, keeping his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. He kissed your fevered temple as you came down together, whispering soothing words with each press of his lips.

You clung to him with equal fervor. Mewls quietly tumbled from your mouth while Leon enveloped you.

Your bodies remained connected as your heart rates and breathing gradually slowed. After a moment, he began to unwrap his arms from your spent frame—ready to clean the two of you from the evening. Before he could, however, your hands immediately tightened their grip on him.

“Wait—don’t want any to spill out. Wanna keep it all in. Please?” Your soft feline ears were flat against your head at the thought of Leon leaving you empty. You wanted to cockwarm him—keep him and his cum as deep as possible for as long as he’d let you.

Leon shook his head and looked down at you with affectionate amusement, “Greedy…” Despite his teasing remark, he allowed himself to be pulled back.

Ensuring your bodies remained connected, Leon carefully guided you both back to your earlier position—you sat in his lap while his back rested against the headboard.

The feeling of his jeans underneath you erred on the edge of uncomfortable as the opened fly pressed into your skin. You refused to admit it to Leon, though, and instead opted to lean further into the man.

His fingers combed through your hair, taming some of the tangles. Your head tilted toward his touch, eager to be pet. He readily obliged you and you purred contentedly in his arms, heat sated—at least for the moment.

[joodles98]

slices of life

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[idyllcy]

boy it's not that complicated (you should stay in my good graces)

word count: 20.6k || F1 AU || full fic: Ao3 Link || banner by @chesue00

summary: Thank god you went to grab coffee first race of the season.

"That was my coffee."

You pause with the cup, blinking at the guy who's just decided to approach you.

Blue eyes... blonde (his roots are showing) hair, blue and white racing suit on his skin, and you tilt your head. It wasn't as if you were planning on drinking the coffee, you just wanted to move it out of the way so you could make another cup, but how it almost makes you wanna mess with him more. It's bad to mess with the drivers too much, though.

"And who might you be?"

"Leon? Leon S Kennedy. Newest driver of Stratcom."

You tap your chin. Right. The new driver scouted from Raccoon.

"Yeah, the neck says it all."

Leon raises a brow incredulously as you laugh, holding the coffee still as you laugh into your palm. Heavens, you're having fun. You grin at him, eyes squinted in amusement as you calm yourself through deep breaths, failing when you catch a glance of his face again, fanning your face, lost in your own world of amusement. When you catch a glance of your watch, you straighten up almost immediately, exhaling and catching your breath as you calm yourself.

You put Leon's coffee down with a nearly apologetic nod.

"I wasn't planning on drinking it."

"Who might you be?"

"One of the many men behind your team."

"You don't look very... man."

Your lips quirk up in amusement and you coo. "Oh, really?"

You hand him his coffee as yours finishes, boots clicking as you saunter down the hall. Leon stares at his cup and drinks it, sighing as the coffee takes effect slowly throughout the day, watching as the reserves drive back and the engineers figure out what to change. He should be out there, but it seems Stratcom operates slightly differently from Raccoon. Maybe that was what came with a bigger company. Yet, he hangs back anyway, watching as Hunnigan talks to... you. He feels like he should be surprised. Yet, he isn't that much, finding that it's alot more female-dominant in Stratcom than he was expecting.

"How's the car?"

Hunnigan spins around as you continue to look at the numbers, tapping your chin as you huff.

"The tires are thinning out too much after a lap."

"Should we change them?"

"The data from last seasons says yes."

"To the medium ones?"

You nod. "Were we using soft ones?"

"Not that I know of."

Leon wonders whose performance engineer you really are. You seem to be his from the way you're talking to Hunnigan, and he raises a brow as you point at a set of tires.

"Those?"

"I'm sure rookie can handle them." You hum. "Leon, drive."

Leon raises a brow, and you wink.

"Come on. Show everyone a lap."

Leon looks to Hunnigan for approval, sure that he wasn't exactly supposed to be here since the practices were for the car and not him. "Hunnigan?"

"If you're up for it."

Leon takes the helmet from the engineers, sighing as he sits into his car, checking the numbers and wheel, staring at the data presented to him as he feels the wheel. Between break and practice, Leon had to learn everything new with the Stratcom vehicles, and he finds himself surprised at how well-adjusted his hands are. Maybe the mold of his hands was for this exact purpose. He wouldn't know. All he had been doing in practice was grinding as hard as he could. Moving up in companies didn't mean that he would be able to match their old drivers.

"Everything feel alright?" You don't look at him, and he raises a brow.

"It's fine."

"I need good."

"Good."

You check the stats one last time, and let the car out of the garage. Hunnigan connects with Leon to check how his vehicle feels, and you watch the stats on the monitor as Leon finishes a lap, checking all the stats. It starts fine with the newer tires, and you glance at the sensors and let Hunnigan know for Leon to fix a sensor, watching to check how many laps he can take before the tires start wearing out. You update Hunnigan on information that she relays to Leon, and you watch as he speaks back to her. He rings in your headset as you're connected, and you read out information for him. Apparently, he's an ungrateful brat, though.

"God, you talk too much."

"Thanks, I'll talk less once you make it out of this race alive."

Leon makes it in for a fifth lap, and you're taken off the line, back to watching the sensor data as you tell Hunnigan to have Leon reset another sensor. You take the note down on the side with a sharpie to run a sensor check before he goes out on the field again the next practice. This one was yielding a bunch of issues that you were sure had been solved, and you grumble as you stare at the engine. The tenth lap yields the necessity of a pit stop, and you tell Hunnigan to jump back.

"Box, now."

"What's wrong?" Leon frowns at Hunnigan's command, pulling into the pit.

"Vibrations. The vehicle isn't steady." You call over it, making changes you deem necessary within the two seconds that everything is changed, and Leon speeds off again. You check to see if the danger has subsided, and you hum when it has. The next score laps are smooth, and when Hunnigan has Leon pull in to do a better check, you hop off your desk and get your hands on. Leon watches as you glance at the numbers and then adjust sensors, sending him out again for a final handful of laps with different tires to check how Leon's doing. You find that he does better with the medium-grip tires, but you still wonder if you could move up in terms of hardness to see how well he drives with them. You make one final pit stop with a full change to have his tires changed, and you watch as Leon struggles with control.

Hunnigan tells Leon to pull over, but Leon turns her down.

"Leon. You aren't controlling them well."

"I know what I'm doing." Leon huffs. "We didn't have the funds for this back in Raccoon. Let me race a little more at a lower speed."

You watch the numbers as he slows down, and you watch as he makes a dozen rounds before returning to regular speed, much more adjusted now.

"Is this alright?"

"It's good." Hunnigan reads from your hand motion, telling Leon to return to the pit.

"He's a fast learner."

"We wouldn't have picked him had he not." Hunnigan glances at the numbers as Leon pulls in, and you sigh.

"We'll start you with hard tires at the start to keep you away from a box for as long as possible." Hunnigan nods at you. "We'll try something else during fp2 to see if you adjust and respond well to it. Take a break. You did well."

You frown at the numbers recorded, and you have the engineers check on the sensors on the car. There isn't much else you can do, and a brief talk with the majority of the team confirms that there shouldn't be any other problems, but the car is taken out for one last drive to check that everything is in order, and the garage is closed for the short break in between. You don't get a break during that time, an informal meeting of engineers gathering together as you go over what has been adjusted and how it would affect performance. You enjoy it, truly, but you're also tired of talking to some of these old men so often.

Too bad summer break has just finished.

You spin the pen in hand as you continue staring at the infinite prints that the printer spat out at your request, and you groan.

"Everything good?"

"I don't have any of Leon's stats. How does he drive?" You flip through the binder.

"He drives... normal. If there even is a bar for that. We're not sure how he's going to react to the rest of the drivers, but so far his driving is normal from his history." Hunnigan hums. "His tires wear out often, but he's good at overtaking. He's horrible at car management, though."

"He's not going to like falling back."

"Right. It's also why you found that he did so many more pit stops."

"Well, awful as he is with management, at least it's not like Krauser." You mumble. "He drives a little too aggressively."

"But he yields results. You know that."

"Yeah." You huff. "Well, he won't be winning now that Ada's back on the track."

"No one wins against Ada."

"Yeah." You mumble. "Her defense is too good. She's too good at quali."

"She's just good at being fast." You hum. "Not that I'm complaining. I love seeing women on the track in those cars."

"Wrong team." Hunnigan rolls her eyes. "Who knows. You might be a spy."

"With a salary like this? In your dreams." You roll your eyes back. "Wesker couldn't pay me half as much as this. He doesn't even like me."

"He doesn't like anyone."

"Fair."

Fp2 runs around and you go back to adjusting the car, not too many things going wrong this time. The time slot truly messes with you, and you yawn as you press another cup of coffee to your lips. Hunnigan talks to the driver on comms as you read through the numbers, surprised at how long it can last when Leon isn't at the wheel.

"Jesus, Leon sucks at car management."

One of the engineers in the back holds back a laugh, and you grimace.

"That wasn't funny, John."

"I know." He snorts.

You learn to make peace with the fact that Leon's going to be making far more pit stops than necessary in the race.

Leon warms up in the morning before qualifying, stepping to the side as Hunnigan runs through the data with the rest of the team, watching as someone else drives his car around to run final check-ups. He listens as Hunnigan runs it down for him, his lip quirking upward as he grins.

"Hunnigan, you always look great without your glasses. Give me your number when we get back?"

Hunnigan rolls her eyes. "We're on duty."

"Wrap it up, white boy." You interject. "You get to ask her out when you aren't wearing your car out in three laps."

"Just admit it. You're jealous I don't flirt with you during quali."

"Leon Scott Kennedy. My job is to make sure you make it out of a race alive. If you really wanna do all of your publicity nonsense you should really go find Ada now that she's back."

"I missed her." Leon clicks his tongue.

"He didn't." Hunnigan sighs. "They're best friends in private."

"Hunnigan!"

You shrug, grin on your face as you tilt your head.

"Truly?"

"Everything they do is for publicity."

"I see." You grin. "Well, if you ever want to go the extra mile for publicity, be sure to blow her a kiss when she places on the podium today."

"You don't think I'll win?"

You smile. "God knows what weird upgrade Ada added to her own car now that she's back."

Leon finds you frustrating. He knows his main engineers are females. Hunnigan was incredible with how smooth she was in terms of operation, but despite his best chances, she wasn't the greatest at understanding what he meant by certain words. She's older than he is, if he thinks about it. He assumed that since Stratcom was bigger than Raccoon, maybe they'd have the more experienced at the engineering deck. Well, not his problem. As long as he could race better than he did in Raccoon.

His time is better despite his wheels being worn out. Arguably, he's placed somewhere up with Krauser now. He used to dream of that back in Raccoon.

"Good to go." You confirm.

Leon starts with his time as you take note of Hunnigan's screen, watching your own numbers as the sensors indicate everything. You don't need to talk to Leon all that much. It's mostly Hunnigan's job, but the good thing you'd argue is that Hunnigan isn't one for all that much talking either. You end up being the one to call some things when she's too focused on having him move forward. She doesn't quite reign Leon in. There's a lack of balance that you don't really want to bring up to the superiors. Leon's new. If you request someone who clicks with him better, it wouldn't be too great on either end. Besides, Hunnigan's the best to offer outside of Krauser's nearly invincible team.

You take a peek at Krauser's time so far, and you hum.

"Aim for first, but make sure to land in q3." Hunnigan reads the positioning.

"Got it."

There isn't much to say to Leon when he's in qualifying. He's plenty capable of setting good times. You sit on the side as he makes laps around, placing first out of the majority. If you were right, Ada should be in the slot once the next car moves out. You love her. It doesn't matter if she's in Wesker, she's iconic.

Well, considering the publicity, Leon might just speed up once Ada hits the track.

You watch as she enters the track, and you grin as Leon's speed grows quicker and quicker on the track.

"Is this because of Ada?"

You tap the screen for Hunnigan, and she nods.

"Leon you have a five-second gain. You have one final lap." Hunnigan checks his time.

"Make that six."

You nod. "Sensors are good."

Leon drifts in the corner turns, speeding up as fast as he can, and you hold your breath as he races past the finish line with the six seconds he promised. Time ends as he drives back, and you check the car. It's fine. A lot of systems are roughed up because Leon sucks at taking care of vehicles, but it's not awful. If he drives slower than this, he should be able to place on the podium if he tries hard enough. Well, granted he doesn't end up in more pit stops than necessary. That's always an awful loss of time.

"Leon." You call for him as he grumbles in the car. A short break in between before q3.

"What?"

"Stop trying to drift. I know Nascar makes it look beautiful and all, but without control, you're going to kill both the car and you. You're also losing speed when you do that."

"It's what I did in Raccoon."

"You're creating more drag when you drift."

He huffs.

"How do you not know that? Did Raccoon let you drift?"

"You didn't watch my old races?" He raises a brow. "I drive dangerously. I corner opponents."

"It's great, but only works if you manage to wear them down. From the stats Hunnigan got of you, you aren't causing enough losses in time for others. You can't chase at your own expense. Chase at theirs."

"Then adjust my car."

"Leon. This race is testing waters for you. Either you do what you do good, or you play safe."

Leon thinks about it.

"I'll do what I do good."

"Well, you better yield results tomorrow during the race."

Leon offers you a half-assed smile.

"I want you to back it up on the attitude if you don't place, white boy."

"Is that all I am to you? White boy?"

You shrug, turning on your heel. "Better get rested. Q3 starts soon."

Leon places fifth in the q3, and you raise a brow at him. Had he been the fastest, he would have been able to do better, but he didn't. You don't exchange words with him when he returns, brow raised in amusement as he clicks his tongue at you. He's going to say something with that smartass tongue of his.

"Engineers."

"Can't say shit when we make your car, Leon." You hum. "Rest up for the race tomorrow. Better get a move on."

"Aren't you supposed to work with me?"

"Not with that attitude, no."

"You ready to fix my car tomorrow?"

"As long as you get on that podium, pretty boy."

Your lips quirk up as you watch a furious red paint Leon's face.

Not used to being flirted with back, huh?

When the big day rolls around, Leon finds himself next to you again, staring at the car as you make a final adjustment and check the numbers on the screen. Hunnigan helps out, and Leon watches as his car is rebuilt and he's told to drive out into formation. Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all he can— he sounds like Wesker right now. At least he placed fifth. It's not too hard to race past others. If he plays his cards right, he should be... safe. At the very least, he should be able to force others into a corner as promised.

The first handful of laps are fine. He manages to race past to third place, steering steady, car completely overtaking them as he gains on second. That's all that matters. His car is doing fine, and Hunnigan hasn't told him anything. Then, by the time he's steadied his spot, it's become apparent that the car has an issue. He speaks up, radio button pressed on his end.

"Hunnigan, car feels unsteady."

"Box—"

You put a hand on her to stop her.

"Fall back." You pull at her mic, eyes still on your screen. "Car's overheating. Don't box yet."

Hunnigan nods. You don't mean to overtake her, but it takes too long to get her to tell Leon, and you watch as Leon falls back in the race, still keeping his position in front of the majority of the cars. He's already placing better than he has before. He's aiming for first, but you're aiming to get him out of it alive. You don't want another incident of the car spinning and crashing. The halo was a saving grace, but it wasn't something you wished to rely on. It doesn't matter if he wanted his car customized so that he could overtake and drive even more aggressively. You understand he's aiming to one-up Ada since she should be rusty, but you're not letting him hurt himself.

"You sure?" Hunnigan raises a brow.

"You make the call, but the vitals are all steady. The engine's overheating right now. The wheels can hold out for at least two more laps. They don't have any required pit stops this race."

"Got it."

"Twelve more seconds, and then get back to us to see if it's better." You nod at Hunnigan, back to watching the numbers. Leon falls back behind the other cars, and you keep an eye on the car as the engine cools down.

"Still unsteady."

"Box." Hunnigan orders.

"Pit crew on standby." You speak into the mic, watching as the car moves through the circuit to get to the pit. "Five seconds!"

Pit crew stations themselves as Leon drives in, and Hunnigan nods at the numbers. You keep an eye on the screen as he speeds back off. The numbers have returned to normal, and depending on the feel that Leon gets out on the road, you can rest easy for another handful of laps.

"It's good now."

"Got it."

You sit back in the seat watching as Leon races past the people who had left him behind, shooting past two cars as he returns to the top seven. You wonder if he can race past another four, but it seems that he's alright, forcing himself past another car as Hunnigan tells him his DRS is active. He flies past another one on the curve as he huffs.

"Tell that performance engineer that I'm gonna get my stupid car fixed for the next race."

"Leon, focus on the road." Hunnigan sighs.

It doesn't take long for Leon to be back for another pit stop, this time on your command, his tires worn out too fast, changed into something slightly harder as he races off again. You wonder if that's enough. It should be. You watch for the rest of his car as he enters the final leg of the race, third place returned to him after the pit, his driving growing increasingly more aggressive. You're glad you gave him harder tires, and you watch as he goes neck to neck with Krauser makes you amused. Krauser doesn't respond well, nearly forcing him into the wall as Leon falls back. You're glad Hunnigan makes the call, and Leon takes third place behind Krauser for the safety of himself.

You watch as Leon finishes up on his side of the race, top three tucked under his belt as he slows and parks in third, hopping off his car with a wink and kiss blown at Ada. You raise a brow at the broadcast, headphones retired to your neck as his car is checked. You didn't make any changes that were illegal, the other engineers made sure of it, so you watch as Leon races over to the team. You step to the back of the team, Hunnigan smiling at you, and you hum. Another win for the team.

You adore Ada, but truly, she was the only good thing in Wesker's company. Luis was only there to be the face card when Ada wasn't present, and though he placed top ten always, he never placed on the podium. You're impressed that Leon managed to place, and over the cheering, you hear Leon yell a "thank you" followed by "Ingrid" and you hold a laugh back.

"First name, eh?"

"Leon." She sighs.

Oh, right. You should get to those edits as soon as the podium high wears off from Leon. You still need to know what he needs adjusted. It wouldn't be surprising if he wanted something that his old car has that he's used. You almost laugh at yourself for how work-brained you are despite placing on the podium, but after growing used to Krauser on the podium, you're kind of unsurprised. You have faith in the team. Besides, with Ada back, it wasn't like Krauser could really place... first anymore.

The team's win is celebrated how you expect it to be, champagne popped and alcohol thoroughly passed around, and you stay for a little to thank the pit crew and engineers, settling for the corner of the room when you finish, water in hand, telling people that it was tequila. The water is cool against your lips, and you watch as the rest of the team parties. You're sure you'll be getting random confessions from random people if the night progresses any further. You really only talk to Leon, though. It doesn’t matter.

When debriefing finishes, you press your mug to your lips, blinking at the numbers as you watch Hunnigan speak. There's going to be a change in... race engineer? It's surprising to you, and you do a double take as it's announced that Krauser has left the team. He paid the fine? Who even— oh. You blink at the announcement that he's been moved to Plaga. Ah. One of their investors, who was it again, the Salazars? They must have paid the fine. Krauser is always looking for more money anyway.

"Which brings us to the point. We are moving up Helena Harper, our best F2 racer this past season. Hunnigan will become her race engineer, and we are moving up our performance engineer for Leon to race engineer."

"What." You blink at the screen, blood running cold. You did not sign up for this promotion. Highly unprofessional of them, but it does explain why you had been called into a meeting last morning with everyone else. Hunnigan had hinted at it, and you had said you'd be okay with taking the position if it came to it. You didn't realize it meant that you would be promoted on the spot. God, now you have to work with a whole new performance engineer that isn't yourself. You might die.

You hear Leon groan in the back.

Helena is coming as the new driver. That’s truly all you pick up outside of your own complaints, and you sigh. You're not excited for your own training. You understand all of the numbers that Hunnigan sees on the weekends, but it doesn't mean you like it. She doesn't need to make that many calls with Leon during the race because it seems that he's been racing alright, but you know from the role of managing the car that Leon wears the car down fast. The calls you'd have to make would be arguably more frequent. Well, not that Hunnigan was doing a bad job. She left a lot of the strategy to Leon. You probably wouldn't. The look in Leon's eyes when he thanked Hunnigan might've been gratuity, but he hungers for more... what in the wattpad bullshit are you saying? Leon wanted to be better. He craves the seat of winner after his years of publicity with Ada. It doesn't take a genius to know. It's why he swapped over to Stratcom.

"You gonna help me win?"

"I don't know, Leon. Will I?"

"You have to."

"Won't motivate me if I don't get something in return. You get paid glorious amounts of money and I get little when compared to you."

"You want a cut of my pay?"

"Nah." You grin. "I'll tell you what this greed of my craves after each race. Don't worry. Won't ever ask for more than ten percent of your salary."

Leon grimaces. Ten percent is still quite the cut.

"Won't ask for money. I'll let you pick eventually." You hum. "For the next race, a dinner in Italy."

"Sure you not asking me out on a date?"

"In your dreams, white boy."

Leon shrugs, offering his hand anyway.

You shake his hand on the offer.

Wednesday rolls around and you're flown over to Monza, Italy. Preparation on Thursday throws you in for a loop, blinking harshly in the morning meeting with the people and debrief on all of the new changes. Leon's changes had been implemented, and Helena had a new vehicle as well, which makes you question just how much they were stacking on Helena. Is it equity? You're not going to ask. The red-eye flight is enough to make you grouchy. You don't enjoy the hours, coffee in hand as you wonder if you should just invest in espresso shots.

At the very least, you get through the morning meetings and understand Leon's god-awful adjustments on his car. You need to watch him practice tomorrow. Leon's in on Thursday in the morning, visible grouch on his face when he lands, and you sigh as you wave at him.

"No paparazzi?"

"It's why you take red-eyes." You yawn, beckoning him over with a wave as the two of you step over to the chauffeur.

"Why'd you pick me up personally?"

"Saw the edits made to your car. Need your approval. They sent me over with a tablet connected to the PC. Take a look."

Leon looks at the numbers, brow raised as he blinks at the photos that are on the tablet, frowning at the wheel.

"They didn't make it how I wanted it."

"That's literally what you were describing."

"No." He frowns. "Button placement. The reason Hunnigan and I were barely talking was because I kept pressing the wrong button. My muscle memory can only go so far."

"We have a dummy, so you can practice with that. We'll move buttons around next race. You told the performance engineer, right?"

"I don't understand why he didn't understand I wanted the button down at the bottom."

"He's new. Cut him some slack." You pause. "Or don't. You're the driver."

The two of you hop off as you thank the chauffeur, and you wave Leon goodbye as you beeline to the back. You're kind of glad you don't need to look at all of the statistics for performance, but you're also not happy that you have to do all of the smiling and chatting with Leon. Well, unhappy wouldn't be correct. Leon's just got an ego big enough to blow up the track, that's all. You'll help him place. You're not paid nearly enough for anything else. You help out the team with checking the stats on the car, and Leon lingers in the back for the track walk. You told him to wait, and both of you are fairly surprised he listened.

You make some final edits as Leon watches, and he has his own input, pointing certain things out and asking why some other things were that way, and the other engineers explain to him as you talk to the mechanics. Most of the edits are approved by Leon, and you have him sit in to have a feel at it, and once his concerns are all solved, he gives the approval nod. You give him a thumbs up back, checking the stats from the previous year to start thinking of strategy. The strategy engineer hands you a file for you to read through, and you sigh.

"Relay that to me."

"Track walk!" You call for Leon.

You read through the strategy while out on the walk with Leon, looking through the booklet as you pause to consider how much of this Leon would actually use.

"Are you planning on listening to us? Or is it going to be your own again?"

"Do you think I should?"

"Shouldn't you be asking the strategist?"

"You're the one in the mic."

"Fair." You hum. "Do you want to place?"

"Your job is to help me place."

"Then, you keep it in the back of your mind while driving. Changes can always happen." You hum. "We'll aim for first, but don't chase someone down at the expense of your own car."

"How can I force Ada into it?"

"She's gonna pit only once if the race allows it." You hum. "She knows how to take care of her car."

"And Krauser?"

"Plaga offered him more money. His driving style will be the same, but it's also worth mentioning that the Plaga cars aren't in top shape. You know how they are."

"Stars?"

"Not your problem unless you somehow fall neck to neck with Redfield." You shake your head. "He's the beast of fifth place. Just use him as a guard dog."

"That's a little—"

"It's rude, but it's the truth." You flip through the book, jumping on the track. "We'll send you in medium tires, and you'll probably stay in medium unless you want soft."

"Probably not." Leon shakes his head. "Are we pitting extra?"

"From your performance, most likely."

Leon clicks his tongue.

"Focus on chasing and pushing others into pit stops. Second place... just keep an eye out for anyone else in the back." You pause. "You can also try defensive with Helena."

"The two car drs defense."

"Yep." You glance at the turn. "No rain prediction for tomorrow."

"Alright." Leon raises a brow. "In the case that there is rain, it's baby for light rain, royal for heavy downpour."

"And medium?"

"It's a gradient. Just tell me a shade of blue between it."

"That's a lot of colors." You hum. "Storm is midnight."

"Got it."

"Time..." You pause. "How insane are you willing to sound to the public?"

"I'm already crazy to them."

"Then, instead of colors, we use HSL."

"God, you're crazy." Leon pauses. "Saturation for time and Luminance for position? Color's always going to be blue."

"Yeah. You able to learn that before a rain race?" You raise a brow. "We can draw a chart."

"Better start using it soon. There's no wind here but we can practice in downtime."

Fp1 and Fp2 run fast for Leon. He's adjusted to the wheel, dialing in to you to speak, telling you how the car feels, and you report it to the rest of the engineers. Adjustments are made as he goes for another two laps, thumbs up given as everyone retires for the night. You flip through the strategies from the engineers as you sit in the hotel bar lounge, drink pressed to your lips as you mark through the file.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Leon." You raise a brow. "I thought you had a house here."

"Under construction." He hums. "What's a hotel stay for me on my salary, though?"

"Yeah, I can see that." You hum. "You ready for quali?"

"How long are you staying after? For that dinner."

"Two days? I fly out shortly after."

"Figured." He pauses. "Will you pay if I place first?"

"If you place first? Sure." You hum. "Team goes out on a dinner anyways. I just wanted a local place since you're from around here."

"I stay with family when I'm in Italy, yeah. Maybe I'll take you to my nonna's place."

"Bringing me home already? Bold move, Kennedy." You smile.

"If I place first, we're going to nonna's."

"What makes you think I wanna meet your grandma?"

"Am I not hot enough for you?"

You eye him, shaking your head. "Too bad you're not my type."

Leon does well. He always does. You take him to third place, halfway into the Grand Prix in Italy, and Leon clicks his tongue.

"When are we pitting?"

"You need to pit?" You raise a brow. "What's losing control?"

"Nothing. I'm calculating whether or not it would be smart for me to start cornering Krauser and force him to retire."

You can practically hear the venom in Leon's voice.

"FIA's going to beat your ass if you actually pull through."

"Stratcom's known for aggression. Yes or no?'

"If you do, you need five seconds from him to pit."

"Copy that."

You watch as Leon chases Krauser in the back, tail catching dangerously close as DRS activates, sending him soaring past Krauser.

"Got it."

"Good job."

Leon gains a ten-second lead over thirteen laps, and you listen to Leon and his words.

"How's the car?"

"Seems alright."

"If we need to pit, you have the time too. Keep going. Eleven behind, four in front."

"Leave it to me." Leon clicks.

You watch as Leon goes neck to neck with Ada, eyes on the road as he barely squeezes past her in a corner, foot on the gas.

"Two second gain."

"Need more." He grumbles. "Mic off. Call for pit only."

"Received."

Despite the banter that Leon seems to offer you outside of the car, you know better than to hit his buttons while he's in a car racing two hundred miles an hour. You keep and eye on it, all channels to you open, waiting for the word to pit. Leon's done an alright job, and he's already boxed once, but it seems to be fine to just let him keep going. You're not to pressed, and it seems the performance engineer isn't all that much either. You catch a quick glance, and nothing sits in the red. That's fine.

"Do you think I can keep first?"

"You're Leon S Kennedy. If it's gonna be anyone, it'll be you." You hum. No harm in some words of encouragement.

"That's what I like to hear, sweetheart."

You blink with a concerned look on your face, and you watch as Ada closes in on Leon. His car's wearing down by staying in first, and though his car seemed to have been doing fine, a pit stop in the next handful of laps wasn't out of the question.

"Push two more laps then box. Ada behind one second."

"Son of a—"

You watch as Leon's cut off, and you hold back a laugh.

"Don't get too cocky, Kennedy." You hum. "Tail behind. Twenty laps left."

"Roger."

Leon circles two more laps before circling back to the pit, full change as he's told to go rogue.

You're sure you've never seen Leon actually drive how he wants to, and he combines with Helena to ward off the rest of the cars before racing into the final ten laps with a bolt, gaining distance behind Ada as he's on the final three laps. You're surprised he even knows how to drive defense.

"Time."

"Three laps. 2.4 seconds behind Ada."

Leon tries speeding past her, cutting corners and trying to wear her car down, but it's to no avail as she cuts him off each time. Nothing's called because no rules are broken, and the two touch wheels at once point. The rest of the engineers watch the race with their breaths held as they make the final lap, and Leon grows increasingly more frustrated, curses flying through the radio as he tries overtaking again, cut off as Ada swerves.

"Fuck!"

"You got this, Leon. You're placing podium no matter what. Just focus on overtaking. You got this." You read. "One second. DRS active."

Leon barely squeezes past Ada on a corner, grumbling as he presses on the gas. His car gains only a little over Ada’s but it’s the finish line, so it doesn’t matter.

He breaks past the finish line first just barely first, front of his car ahead mere centimeters. The rest of the team cheers as you smile at the screen, lips quirked up. You get why Hunnigan enjoyed this job. The adrenaline from winning could be addicting. You tap your cheek as you're pulled in for a hug, and you laugh. Your head is spinning with too much dopamine for you to be able to cheer or yell. It's too loud for that.

"Beautifully done, Leon."

"Thanks. Thank you for your hard work."

"Pleasure's mine."

You pop off the headphones and disconnect to cheer, racing over where Leon has parked, jumping with the rest of the team as Leon spots you in the crowd, jumping over to you with a yell as you barely catch him, caught off guard. The rest of the engineers hold you up as you stumble, and he runs back to Helena. Helena laughs as Leon cheers. You clap for him as everyone settles down for the podium. Awards are given, and Leon shakes his champagne to spray at Ada, much to her complaints.

"You asshole!" She sprays her own back at him.

"Hey!"

The media goes insane over it. It's normal for them to. People drink up every single interaction between the two, and the two of them feed into whatever fantasies people have. When half of Leon's bottle is gone, it's pointed at you instead, and you hold your hands up to cover your face from Leon's champagne, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You yell in response, and the rest of the bottle bubbles out on its own. Leon's hair is sticky with champagne, shaking his head as the water flies everywhere, laugh on his lips as his smile lines are evident, head thrown back in glee with the trophy in his hands.

"You good?" Hunnigan laughs as you groan.

"I need to shower now."

She purses her lips. "Insanely hilarious back and forth between the two of you, by the way."

You stay back for a while for autographs, raising a brow when a fan presents marriage papers to you as a joke, shrugging as you ask him how much he makes in a year.

Leon steps up behind you, taking the papers.

"Not enough."

"Oh, hey, star of the show." You raise a brow. "He didn't even get to answer."

"Nonna wants you for dinner."

"Tonight? What about your afterparty?"

"Italian tradition. Always gonna be nonna's on Sunday night." He signs the back of the marriage papers instead, forcing the pen back into your hand as you raise a brow. "I'll be every year from now on. Come on."

"What?"

"We're getting married."

"In your dreams, white boy." You pull out a notepad, signing it and handing it to the fan.

"Kennedy's a nice last name, hm?"

"I like mine as is." You wave. "I'm retiring."

"Leon! What's that about Nonna?"

"Taking my engineer for a nice dinner." Leon hums, winking at the crowd. "Promised dinner at. my favorite place if I placed. Favorite place happens to be my beloved nonna's."

They cheer.

Leon laughs. "Victory celebrations with a friend."

Dinner is great. You're thrilled when Leon's grandma actually cooks, eyes practically glowing as you thank her. Leon translates the majority of the time, telling you with red on his ears of how she's delighted that he's brought one of his engineers home finally. You answer any questions she has, and she tells you that her father used to be an engineer, and how Leon's grandfather used to take him to his go-kart practices. You listen intently, her pasta shoveled in your mouth as she helps you to another offering.

"Nonna."

"Nonna speaks french too, if you happen to know that."

"Grand-mère ta cuisine est le vrai MVP de cette cours." You give her a thumbs up, hand held over your mouth as she laughs.

"T'es trop mignionne!" She laughs. "Merci, chère fille."<br />

<small><small><small>'You're too cute!' 'thank you, sweet girl'</small></small></small>

"Merci pour cuisiner." You thank her. "Ah, je vais retourner l'année prochain."<br />

<small><small><small>'thank you for cooking.' 'Ah, I'm coming back next year'</small></small></small>

"Léon, sarà meglio che sia la fidanzata l'anno prossimo." The grandma points her fork at him.

"Nonna!"

She clicks her tongue.

You don't have the heart to tell Leon that you understand just enough Italian to understand what his grandma has just said to him. You'll play dumb. Arguably, it's for the better. You tilt your head as Leon waves his hand, and you laugh.

Leon takes you back to the hotel, smile on his face as he raises a brow.

"You owe me dinner?"

"Nuh uh. We didn't pay at mamie's." You shrug. "Look forward to what I'll get for helping you in next race."

Your debrief in the morning is enough to tear you from limb to limb.

"I'm not flirting back. It was just a congratulatory dinner." You argue.

"It's fine." Leon laughs. "I don't mind."

"Leon."

"My publicity is being a fuckboy. It's fine." He waves off the concern. "Rather than media stuff, I want my mic somewhere on top on my wheel."

"That can be arranged."

"Anything else?"

You note down what Leon says, doodles in the corner of your paper as you think of all the work that the data analysts are doing. You're exhausted from staying out til two with Leon last night, and though the pasta had been Michelin star-worthy, you were still tired. You yawn halfway through, and Leon raises a brow at you.

"You got a problem, racer?"

"If you call me that one more time I'm going to reach over this table and punch you." You grumble. 

The season is always nightmare after nightmare. You have little to no downtime in between races, and it becomes increasingly apparent that Ada's adapted to Leon's racing style in the next two races. No matter what adjustments are made, it seems that she just knows. It frustrates his engineers to no end, and by the meeting three races into the season, your head is thrown back in annoyance. Maybe you actually aren't being paid enough for this.

"Don't wanna work for me anymore?"

"No." You groan. "Give me a second."

Leon's trying. You're aware of that. You're also Ada's biggest fan, so you know well that she's one of the quickest thinkers on the grid alongside her engineer. Wesker has way too many years both on and off the track to know what calls to make at what points in time. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you are stuck questioning whether or not someone with more experience could do better than you, but you're also too spiteful to just step down from your position.

"Ada marathon. Tonight. My hotel room." You point at Leon.

"Don't need to tell me twice." Leon winks.

"That's 144 races." The strategy engineer grimaces.

"Then 144 races we will watch." You sigh. "I'll report everything to you tomorrow over coffee."

"Good luck." He sighs. "We can split half and half."

"72 races is still... a lot." You pause. "How about three-way?"

Leon sighs. "48 races per person sounds awful."

"Well, I know what I'll be doing tonight." You heave. "God, I need a smoke."

Leon raises a brow. "You don't even smoke."

"Gonna start today thanks to you."

"You're on 24 races from when she first started and then 24 of her most recent races." You point at the strategist. "I'll do the ones between that, and then Leon can do the middle races. We'll split it when the meeting's over."

"Got it."

The rest of the meeting runs over the logistics of the car, and you huddle with the other two to split up the races. You feel like a... Haikyuu character. Who are you? Oikawa? You're not trying to catch a case of being the worst anime villain to ever exist or something. You're sure this is normal. Ada may have never brought up how she prepares for races, but it doesn't take a genius to know how well-rounded she is on the track. She's too good at blocking overtakes. It's why Leon struggled. He may have been able to do it the first time because she had been caught off guard, but she was too good at what she did.

You note down how she drives, hands delicate on her wheel and eyes constantly on the watch. You listen to what Wesker tells her, noting everything of worth down, and you sigh when you watch the races she first started against Leon. You find that Leon's grown much more tame in racing, his earliest racing style wild and violent, cornering people into walls and blocking overpasses. You find that he blocks Ada at one point, leading to his first win of that season. After that, it becomes apparent that he only needs to pass Ada, preferably when she pits. Ada used to pit twice rather than once. Maybe that was the strategy needed.

You take the note down.

  Pit crew speed ↑ + Leon aggression ↑ = stopping Ada?

You start the next race.

There's something about Leon's old way of driving that Ada wasn't able to control.

An element of chaos? An element of a lack of understanding? An element of unpredictability? You don't know. You should study Leon's old driving style prior to joining Stratcom as well. It's always much more suffocating in a bigger company when you get to take more risks in a small one. You raise a brow at the race that Leon and Ada trade first and second like it's second nature, and you get where this whole publicity stunt started. It's hard to ignore the way they look at each other with such intensity when they're on the podiums and listening to each other talk.

You place a hand over your mouth. "...wait... I dig this."

You go back to the rest of Ada's races prior to her hiatus, and you find that it's truly the lack of predictability that Leon used to display.

Never let 'em know your next move... or something.

You knock out halfway through and finish the rest in the morning with your coffee, lack of new things to note down as you head down for breakfast with the other two.

"So?"

"You go first." You sigh. "Mike?"

"Sorry. I stayed up way too late." He sighs. "She's an all-rounder. I don't have any notes other than that. She struggled at first in her first twenty races but by her thirtieth she was picking up pace and analyzing her opponents. It's kind of impressive. But her most recent races indicate that Leon's just not posing a threat. It seems that she can just predict everything."

"You wanna hear my takeaway?" You raise a brow. "Leon needs to start racing like a madman again. That's my takeaway."

"No way." Mike reasons. "That's not safe for him."

"It's the only way Leon's gonna be able to outperform Ada within the rest of the year for that position of champion." You reason. "If he doesn't go back to that unpredictability factor he used to have, then he'll never outsmart Ada."

"Oh, so I need to go rogue again? Because I was going to say that Ada struggles with predicting people who don't have a typical race strat." Leon hums. "She struggled with predicting Wesker before he became her boss. She struggles with unpredictability. I just have to throw her off enough. She's never going to expect me to go back to driving like a madman now that I'm in Stratcom."

"Upper management's going to be mad if we waste all our resources on you." Mike clicks his tongue.

"They won't complain when I bring back their first gold in forever."

"Mike, you keep it under wraps, alright?" You raise a brow. "Just proceed as normal."

"Not that they'd believe me anyway." He gets up from his chair. "I'll leave it to you two. I'll send you a plan anyway. I don't expect either of you to follow it."

You give him a thumbs up.

"If we place podium, what do you want?"

"Oh, you still remember?" You raise a brow. "What even is there to do in Texas? Oh. Dinner again?"

"If I place first your treat."

"Alright. I doubt that."

"You really?"

"I don't know. You've gotta show me, Kennedy."

Leon places fifth in qualifying. You're unsurprised, but what comes as a surprise is Leon telling you through the mic that he has it under control. All you need to do tell him when to pit. You suppose that it's a lot more amusing this way, but mic off or not, you have not much of a choice when Leon's just straight up shredding his tires.

"Box, box. Pit, Leon." You grumble. "You're only allowed to be crazy when I give you the flag."

"I know what I'm doing."

"No the fuck you don't." You hum. "You're losing time if you're the only one shredding your tires. Learn to force others into the pit and not yourself, hm?"

"I can't force Ada into the pit unless she's right in front of me."

"It can be anyone in front of you. Surely you've picked up a thing or two from all those youtube videos."

"You make me sound so unprofessional by saying that."

"Pit crew." You click the button.

Leon slides in and out, gaining back his position in top five.

"Alright. Tell me how to."

"You know how to. You used to do it."

"Say less."

Leon forces past the car in fourth in arguably one of the most narrow turns you've ever seen, grimacing at the view from his car as he laughs into the mic.

"Did you catch that?"

"I'd like to catch something bigger. Keep pushing."

"Tsk. Was that not enough?"

"You can do better."

"Roger that."

You watch as Leon slides through, and you glance at the weather.

"Rain in twenty laps."

"Color."

"I'd say something like sky blue. Sky blue, 6 percent, two c west." You read from the prediction. "Do you think you'll need wet tires?"

"Sky blue, huh? Probably not. We'll see. How many left?"

"Thirty."

You know the announcers are going to say something weird about the weather system you've set up, but quite frankly you do not care. It's not your problem. Leon cuts into third, and you sigh into the mic. Time to let the poor guy do what he's been wanting to this whole time.

"Engage... chaos."

"Oh, I've been waiting for that one." He laughs, turning his mic off as he pushes, engine revving. Smoke comes out as a result, but the performance engineer doesn't mention anything of it. It looks normal from your end, and he swerves to cut off Krauser from second, no doubtedly laughing from the dopamine high his brain was experiencing.

"Reel it in, Kennedy. Don't sell yourself to Ada yet."

"Can I stay second?"

"Engine looks good." You read.

"Got it, sweetheart."

You make another face.

Yet, he stays steady for the majority of the race, cutting Krauser off without needing you to ask him to, forcing Krauser into a position that you're sure the poor guy is NOT going to like. Leon forces Krauser into corners and slowing down, defending his position of second while no one's close to him in the back.

"Redfield in fourth, 1.2 seconds— 0.7 seconds from Krauser. Push, Leon." You read.

"Don't need to tell me that twice."

Leon pushes past Krauser and leaves him to deal with Chris, racing to the front as he tries closing in the gap between him and Ada.

"Gap?"

"Twelve seconds. Come on, Kennedy."

"Rogue when arrived?"

"Wear her out."

"Roger that."

You wonder if Leon actually understands what you mean by wearing her out, but you don't question it too much. If he doesn't then he can just try speeding past her based on pure adrenaline. His car was adjusted to be able to hit 240 in optimal conditions, and you watch as the rain arrives.

"Wet on track?"

"Dry." He reports. "Not too much rain yet. Lap?"

"Fifteen left."

"Copy."

You watch the rain and predictions, pausing when you notice Leon's car isn't running as smoothly.

"Pit, pit. Box, Leon."

"What's my gain on Krauser?"

"Seven seconds."

"Tell pit crew not to mess this up."

"Copy."

Leon speeds in to the pit, changing in two seconds, speeding back out in order to gain back on Krauser.

"Lap."

"Twelve." You call. "Ada five seconds, Krauser five."

"DRS zone?"

"Overtake if possible."

"Taking the risk." Leon clicks open his DRS, speed increase wonderful for his car as he flies past Ada, slowing to block her immediately.

"Block or go?"

"Block for now. Go will be called soon."

"Roger that."

You know Wesker is seething in his seat right now. Ada may not be affected, but you're sure Leon playing rough is a pain in the ass for Wesker. So, you don't think it's out of the question for him to be ordering Ada to try new things. Luckily for you, you had watched enough of Wesker's races to understand what he like doing. Surprise or not, eventually you run out of cards to play. You happen to know the majority of his cards, so you have Leon block Ada every chance he gets, forcing her into a corner and forcing her to slow for her own safety. Ada values her life. Leon? Not as much.

"Leon, final lap. Push. Go rogue. Helena third."

"Music to my ears." He sings, pushing for a further gap as he gleams, turns growing ragged and tires shredding, sparks flying from the back of his car as you wince. The car seems to be fine, and as soon as he's past that checkered flag, your screen is ditched for a victory-yelling session with Mike and the rest of the team. It worked. Leon just had to push past Ada and force her to care for her own safety. It was like playing the perfect cards into your hands. It was beautiful.

"We did it!" Leon yells, and you laugh into the mic.

"Get to that parking spot, Leon. We'll meet you there."

"You're paying for dinner."

"Say less."

You opt for the back half of the team, Leon yelling and grabbing Mike as he yells, cheering. Leon lets out a borderline pornographic gasp as he pops his helmet off, shake of his head from the sweat and cry on his lips as he cheers. You wonder if that feeling ever gets old. All of the excitement left you as soon as you had run up, and as Leon cheers, you find it's amusing. You won't get tired of seeing Leon and Helena place on the podium, that's for sure. You wonder what Leon's going to ask for dinner.

You want barbecue. God, Texas barbecue sounds so good right now. Leon's trainer's going to say no but oh, god. You want a rack of baby back ribs.

"What's for dinner?" Leon raises a brow as you're pushed to the front, and you tap your chin.

"I could go for some ribs."

"God, my dietician's going to kill me— say less."

You wink at him, patting his shoulder and giving him a little push as he rushes over to the podium. Helena follows after as you yell her name, cheering. You're sure the team will be able to win Constructor's Championship as long as Luis doesn't suddenly decide to get astronomically better, but you're sure Leon's practically salivating at the idea of being world champion driver. Ada's held that title for longer than ever, but Leon's got an interesting gain in terms of points this year. He'd need... to place first a least a couple more times.

"So? How'd I do?"

"Fishing for compliments, aren't ya?" You raise a brow.

"Please?"

"Oh, so you know how to beg? I'm already paying. What else do you want me to tell you? You did great? Good job not getting yourself killed? Congrats on placing first, again?"

"It's like you don't love me." He sighs.

"Leon, we're coworkers."

"That go on dinner dates?"

"Are these considered dates?" You gasp. "I thought it was just regular company dinners."

"We already do that with the team monday nights."

You shrug. "I didn't realize I was so special to you, Leon." You feign. "You love me?"

He clicks his tongue. "You wish."

"See?" You laugh, thanking the waiter as he serves you both your dinners. "I love shitty chain dinners."

"Only way to celebrate the American life." He nods at the waiter.

"Well, your fault for being American." You shrug. "That income tax must be beautiful, huh?"

"I only live here because I don't wanna end up living some tiny ass place in Monaco. Why live close to the tracks when you can live in a mansion with my money?"

"Convenience." You bite at the rib in your hand, moan slipping past your lips. "God, I love meat."

Leon cocks up a brow that can only mean trouble, and you gape, horrified.

"NO."

"You could–"

"Leon fucking Kennedy!" You full name him.

"You could have my—"

"I'm leaving and calling the cops on you." You wipe your fingers as Leon yells.

"I didn't mean it." He stifles a laugh, snirking at you.

"I hate you." You roll your eyes, going back to the food. "In front of my salad?"

"Your ribs?"

"My baby?!"

But dinner's fine. It's always more than fine. Leon gives you bedroom eyes enough times for you to just play stupid, and when he sends you back to the hotel, he frowns at you until you roll your eyes and give him a kind pat on his shoulder. You're not feeding the tabloids when Leon's already got plenty of publicity from Ada and his rivalry. Rivalry? Romance? Situation..ship? It's not your problem. You're enjoying what you're getting out of the races. It feeds your ego just as much as it does his when he wins — not that you would tell him.

Besides, the relationship was truly just transactional — If you ignore the fact that Leon's got an ego when it comes to flirting with women. He simultaneously can not handle being flirted back with or getting rejected. His face card is lethal, sure, whatever, but you don't really want to compromise your position as his race engineer with the chances of dating. You're not losing your job over some guy. You're especially not losing it over the very man you're communicating with every single race. You don't plan on that ever happening, thanks.

"Ugh. Heat." You grumble, stepping out of the airport to catch your ride. Another week, another full mess of driving you have to deal with. Mike's strategy is handed to you on Thursday like clockwork, and you read through the file while on the walk with Leon. There isn't much to say. There's never too much to say. Though, Leon tells you a little about what he's planning to do. It's not exactly safe, but as long as he can pull it off, it's fine. You stare at the track and then raise a brow, tilting your head at the turns and then at the map.

"You good?"

"Leon, I'm going to suggest something a little bit on the dirty side of driving."

"Say less."

"Feed on that fear factor. No one's completely rid of it." You hum, smiling. "Side to side, corner to corner."

"Say less." He grins. "Is that how we're going to get there?"

"Krauser has no fear factor. You're just going to have to piss him off enough."

"And Ada?"

"Ada fears nothing." You close your eyes, stopping in your tracks to think. "Just keep playing her."

"What a gamble you make each time."

"If it doesn't work, then we go back to what Mike does. You've won quite a handful of first places over the year anyway. You're only... what? You're practically neck to neck with Ada."

"How many more races?"

"You're at 10 races first place and five races second and then like a handful of thirds. You're at like 329 points. Ada joined back mid-year, and the only other person with enough points to corner you would be Krauser, but he's only around 300? There's five races left, so if you place first another two to three times, there's no way anyone could catch up to you, guaranteed."

"So first is mine?"

"Until you hit that 400 point mark, no it's not." You shake your head. "Don't get cocky."

Qualifying goes incredibly well. Too well. Leon places fifth, and you hold your breath as you check the weather.

"We changed you to wet tires, but also, true blue, 10%, 6 mph west." You read. "Leon, don't get overly excited. You're not first place. The chances you get injured or get retired is higher than usual. The weather doesn't help."

"I'll be fine."

You have a feeling he won't be, but you don't speak up. If you somehow manage to affect Leon's confidence, then you'd be responsible for it. Instead, you opt for watching Leon the whole time, holding your breath when you're not reporting the changes in weather. It's the end of hurricane season, but it doesn't mean the rain can't pick up. The anxiety eats you out, and though you remain calm on the outside, you're ready to retire the car whenever.

"Leon, is it drying?"

"No."

"How's your grip?"

"It's alright."

Leon feels the car is fine. He's raced past from third to second, and as long as he presses past Ada, he can take that title this race. He could also place second once and then top five in another race, but he needs to take first to kill everyone's chances of champion. He'd rather die than lose to Krauser again. So, he swerves, refusing to slow down at a turn, engine sparking as he's sure that he's going to need to pit soon. It's fine. The floor is drying up, and though not completely dry, it's not road that's too hard to drive on.

He'll take first place.

That's how it's supposed to go. That's how—

"I'm losing grip." He curses, staring at the upcoming turn.

"Do you want to pit?" You raise a brow.

"Ye—"

You wince at the way he spins out of control, crashing into the wall. The back panel breaks off and the engine turns red on the performance engineer's screen, and you yell for Leon. The rain helps prevent a fire, but any more with the car and it'll be problematic. You were right. It's a vital race to Leon, but he has plenty of chances as long as Krauser doesn't place podium. Though, that doesn't matter. You value the life of your driver more than a title that he wants to receive. What's the point of holding a title if the person who holds it has died? You can't take any of that with you to the afterlife.

"Leon. Out of the car. We're pulling you out the race." Your heart races, waiting for his response.

"I need this win!"

"You don't. Any two of these five races, you get first place, and you become world champion. Your life matters more. Car is out of commission. Step out of the car. You only need fifty points."

He curses on the line, profanities stringing one after the other as he hops out of the car, walking off back to the garage as he grimaces at you. You offer him an unfortunate smile, and he sighs. He leans against the wall, brows furrowed as you turn around to stare at him.

"I don't like this."

"You got cocky."

"I don't need to hear that right now!" He snaps.

"And when will you be willing to listen? Tomorrow? When you're in a good mood? Leon, you can't go ahead and aim to shred a man to pieces because you need first place at your own expense. Your emotions affect how you drive. You're there to win with a level head. You're trying to stress others out, not yourself." You sigh. "We can go over what went wrong later, but are you hurt? The medics checked you before, I know, but surely the whiplash was quite a bit. Take my seat."

"And watch the rest of the cars?" He scoffs.

"You can cheer for Helena." You pop your headphones off, holding it out to him. "You're a team, after all."

He takes them from your hand, frown on his face as he puts them on, listening in to Hunnigan and Helena's conversation. It's quiet as he expects, a lot less quippy than his conversations with you. He watches the race with the rest of the team, surprised at how well Helena's holding her position. She might even place podium.

You stand behind Leon as Helena speeds around the course, and your lips quirk up as she enters the final lap. The rain has subsided by now, and Hunnigan's calls have left her nice and safe despite her reckless driving, and she's neck to neck with Krauser now.

"I forget how good she is." Leon mumbles.

"You work in a team of mostly women. You should keep that in mind for next time." You press your hands on his shoulders, leaning into the screen as you both hold your breath.

"Helena, push."

You don't get to hear her response to Hunnigan, but her activation of DRS immediately upon entering the zone sends her past Krauser and into second place. You're sure she's thrilled to be placing so high, and you hold your breath as the gap between her and Krauser increases, her racing past the finish line earning a yell from everyone on the team. Leon grabs you, yelling as you cheer. You doubt you've ever felt such excitement over Leon placing, but Helena placing was a milestone for her.

"P2, Helena! You did it! P2!"

You drag Leon as he runs over to meet up with Helena, pushing Hunnigan to the front as you cheer.

"Why aren't you ever this excited when I win?"

"Maybe I'll cheer properly for you when you win world champion. Krauser placed first, which means he always has the chance of beating you." You wave at Helena. "Congrats!!"

"Never thought he'd come back to bite my ass." Leon grumbles. "Great job."

"Thank you." She nods. "You all good?"

"Just a little whipash." Leon sighs. "I'll be all good by next race."

You look away. Not by next race. His next handful of races are NOT going to be a pleasant experience. If he's careful, he might be able to recover by the second race, but if not, then the third or fourth. He only has four races left.

"I didn't place this time." He mumbles, groaning into his hand as you pat his back.

"You can place third four times, and you can place fourth three times and once in third. Leon, you have all the time in the world. You need to heal your whiplash first."

He grimaces.

Leon follows after you, clicking through his phone as he scrolls through twitter. It's a lot about the race results, most of them congratulating Helena, and as he reaches for his own name, you call for him.

"Let's go." You raise a brow. "Your emotions are still a mess. Don't you go reaching for Twitter first thing after a race. You wanna die?"

"They're congratulating Helena."

"Never search your name after a race." You take his phone, earning a yell from Leon as you stick your tongue out.

"What are you? Twelve?"

"I should be asking you that question." You hum. "We're off to our hotel."

"Wait, why are we—"

"Room service and then we can rewatch the race. I know you're itching to tell me what you did wrong."

"I am not." He huffs.

You raise a brow.

"Okay, I am." He rolls his eyes. "You're gonna listen?"

You get back and tell Leon what you want, stepping into the shower to wash off the grime of the day. You ask if Leon wants to grab his stuff and clean himself off, but he shakes his head at you. Until he got what he remembered out of his mind, then he would continue in whatever he was in. Though, he pulls the jacket off and ditches the shoes. You finish washing off to ask Leon if he's ordered, and he nods. He'd pay upfront with his card, which makes you raise a brow and offer to pay instead, but he insists. You don't understand why he'd go so far after literally losing a race.

Leon orders for you. He finds that it's safer for a guy to at least pretend he's staying with a woman than for the woman to be known to be staying alone, and he has you tell him what to order, bringing it to your room. You thank him for ordering, laptop pulled out as Leon points at what felt like it lost control, and you draw on the screen, taking note on what to fix at the next meeting. The car didn't do good in rainy weather, it seemed. At the very least, Vegas wouldn't have all that much rain. Then, back to the other side of the world, where the lack of rain was more than apparent. Leon would be fine in the rest of the races.

"Do you want these changes immediately? The car will be driving dry the next couple of races." You look up at the door when it's knocked on.

You thank the concierge for bringing it in, and Leon pays and tips, nodding as the guy walks off.

"He's gonna tell the media about this later." You go back to the laptop. "So? The changes?"

"Yeah, I figured." Leon sighs. "It's fine. Your laptop was out with all of the data of our old car. Stratcom's just going to say we were discussing details again."

"Or they'll pay him off." You reach for a fry, chewing on it as you hum. "You want the changes now?"

"Can I have one?"

"You paid." You hold the fries up to him.

"Thanks. No, I don't think we need to implement it right away, but for the next year, maybe. It'll be raining a lot in the earlier seasons."

"We can bring it up to the others." You tilt your head at the screen. "I'll save it, then. I think your mic could be clearer too. We can adjust that tomorrow. You should also lay down."

"You think?"

"Leon, that whiplash is going to kill you." You raise a brow. "Also, get eating. It's dinnertime anyway."

"You're awfully bold bringing a man into your hotel room, you know?"

"Thanks, if you wanna sexually assault me or something at least wait another two weeks." You shrug, biting into your food. God, mexican food after a whole day of work hits different. Though, you'd argue that the pasta you had with Leon at his nonna's was better. You don't really care of Leon in that way. You're his race engineer, he's just asking for trouble if he suddenly decides that it'd be smart for him to ask you out in any way. He'll call you sweetheart on a good day, but that does not guarantee that he will every race. You doubt he actually likes you.

Leon, on the other hand, finds it strange that you go to such lengths for him. Well, not that off. You're supposedly known by the other employees as someone who works harder than the rest, so it was unsurprising to them when you had suddenly been promoted to one of the higher-ranked engineers. Though, Leon finds it annoying that he can't seem to get through to you. What does it take for you to give him some attention? Though, not that you seem to think of him as a man anyway. It's unsafe for you to be showering and then letting him just sit in your room. Had he been any more of an asshole, he might've actually done something.

Yet, he watches you anyway. His eyes stay on your body when you tell him that you'll be knocking out for the night, telling him that he's welcome to continue with your laptop as long as he stays in the room. Unbothred. Uncaring. You seem to not take Leon seriously at all. It almost hurts his ego to be treated like this.

You fear nothing.

You can not tell when he gives you darkened eyes, climbing on top of you as you're knocked out, eyes glued to your body. You can not sense whatever danger he might present to you. Are you close to that extent? Truly? Are you two friends enough to the point that he is just allowed to do this? You must not value yourself enough. He's a man too. Do you not care?

He tilts his head at you, watching as you continue to breathe steadily, eyes closed and chest rising and falling.

He has caged you down, yet all you do is sleep.

Leon sighs. "How easy."

He climbs off of you, turning off your laptop and plugging it in for you, stepping over your clothes as he glances at you one last time. He leaves his jacket on the back of the seat, shoes slipped back on as the door clicks behind him. He could ask you in the morning. Maybe he should teach you a lesson while he's at it. You should really be vigilant around him. Had you made the mistake around anyone else, they might've jumped you already.

You wear Leon's jacket to the meeting in the morning.

It's draped over whatever you would normally wear, and Leon does a double take when you actually show up in it.

On second thought, maybe you were asking for him to do something.

You go about the meeting, telling a coworker that you found it in the team lost and found, smile on your lips as you go over what adjustments would be made for the next time. You decide on which tire material to use on the ground, and there isn't much else to go over. The United States tended to have alright weather, though, it would be colder in the morning which was when he would be racing, His uniform was alright to wear, and you raise a brow at Leon to ask if he has any questions.

"Where'd you get my jacket?"

"Alright, no flirting on company time."

You laugh at the superior, humming as the rest of the meeting runs smoothly. You hand the jacket back to Leon eventually, thanking him for it, and Leon watches as half of the room pauses to stare at you both. If you notice, you're ignoring it. Leon takes it from you with a wink, throwing it over his own shoulders, raising a brow when you shrug. He doesn't like the feeling that creeps up his back when he talks to you now. It feels strange. It feels weird.

Images of your restful face haunt him at night.

Even during qualifying, gambling city of the nation, all that keeps him up at night is you.

He settles with flirting with you instead, drinking up every single way you cringe at him, disgust audible when he's talking to you over the mic during fp3, earning raised brows from the team as you resist the need to groan into your hand.

"He's gotten a lot more vocal with you." Mike tunes in.

"I'm going to punt this man into the sky." You turn off your mic to Leon.

"Sweetheart, is the car alright?"

"Nothing from the team." You report. "You should be good to go. Keep an eye out on the weather tomorrow."

"Will you nurse me back if I get sick?"

"No, I'll just pull you from the team." You grimace, disgust written all over your face as the engineers next to you laugh — Leon parking into the garage as he pulls off the helmet, raising a brow at you. "Stop fishing for compliments, Kennedy."

He pushes himself out of the car, huffing.

"Lunch?"

"I want Chipotle."

"God, I love Chipotle," Leon mumbles, handing you his phone.

You punch in your order, telling him to just text you after, heading off to the meeting before qualifying. You're not excited. You're never excited. You sit in the room and talk to everyone, and once you leave the room, the stress will be significantly less. You'll talk to everyone and figure out the general plan, tell them what you plan on having Leon do alongside Mike and get approval. Once it's approved, you tell them that it's subject to change in order to adapt to the plan, and Mike hands you another heavy file of information about Ada's recent races.

"We're just going to ignore Krauser?"

"Leon's raced against that man plenty." Mike sighs, opening the door. "Oh, speak of the devil."

"Chipotle's here." He smiles, holding up your order as your eye twitches. In front of management is insane.

"You just really wanted to show management how much I've been abusing you, huh?" You raise a brow. "Come on. Let's find an area to cool down before quali."

"Don't need to tell me twice." He leads you around, your bowl steaming hot on top of the folder from Mike. You don't want to hear what the higher-ups have to say. If you do not see, then you do not know. Well, not that it matters. Leon has a strange reputation, and it's as though he has a dating history since starting F1. It's like they wiped him clean to start over. Oh, well, save for whatever he and Ada has going on.

"Hey." Leon grins.

Ada Wong sits on the couch across from you, and your jaw drops

"Oh my god." You fumble with your lunch, jaw-dropping. "THE Ada Wong?"

"Oh! Leon's wildcard!" She hums. "Come on! Let's eat."

You stare at Leon, and he shrugs.

"She wanted to join."

"Huge fan, wow." You mumble, putting the folder down as you open your lunch. "What brings you here? Or are you two just having lunch? Am I intruding?"

Ada laughs. "Don't worry about it. I bumped into him before he got to order. He owes me one anyway."

You give Leon a look that can only mean something along the lines of "did I walk in on you both" to which Leon responds with a shake of his head. You go back to your food, humming as you watch the television for time. Ada races before Leon this time, and honestly, you're kind of too thrilled to be having Chipotle to care. American food things. You can take the man out of the eagle screech but not the eagle screech out the man... or however it goes. What's a little... American spirit in the United States? You like the calm life you get to enjoy during the breaks where all you do is go on zoom meetings with everyone and talk about the car. What can you say? Laziness isn't a passion, it's a lifestyle. Though, you'd argue that being an engineer in F1 is a complete contradiction to the statement.

You finish as Ada looks at you, lips quirked upward amusingly as you raise a brow.

"You're doing great."

"God, I must be hallucinating." You grab Leon's thigh, fanning your face.

"You're my engineer and you're crying over a compliment from her?"

"She's my number one. My ult. My oshi, if you will. Dare I say it, my number one."

Leon raises a brow at all of those words, but Ada laughs, hand held over her mouth as she laughs into her palm, corners of her eyes crinkling from your boldness. She thanks you with a nod and a smile, telling you that she'll dedicate her win tomorrow to you.

"Oh, well, I never promised that win in your hands." You wink, lips quirked up as Ada blinks at your boldness.

"You think you can win again?"

"You called me a wildcard, Miss Ada." You smile. "You struggle with them yourself. We all do."

"Well, you're right on that." She smiles. "But you won't be able to predict me either, hm?"

"Hard to say." You wink. "A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one. Though, what use are cards in a game of firearms?" You grin. "Well, not that it matters. You can't win championship even if you win the next four. You know? You joined a little late."

"I know. But I can certainly push Krauser to the top. Anything to stop Stratcom from winning both titles."

"Well, apologies, but bringing a knife to a gunfight is a little outdated." You grin. 

Ada laughs, pushing the door open. "See you both at quali."

"If I play dangerous, will you let me?" Leon looks up at you from the couch through his lashes.

"As long as you don't die or get retired, do as you wish?"

"Even if we get yelled at?"

"What's Stratcom without a little violence?"

Leon places third in q3.

It's not nearly as fast as he would've liked it to be, but it's fast enough, and when he's back after q3, he's tilting his head at you with those big-ass puppy eyes, vying for attention. You know he wants a compliment, but you raise a brow at him as he huffs. He knows you won't give him one unless he does so well that it's beyond what you expect from him.

"I'm not complimenting you, Kennedy."

"Dammit." He huffs. "If I win tomorrow, will you?"

"No." You hum. "Bring back that championship and then we can talk."

Leon sighs. "Can I have a kiss if I do?"

You raise a brow. "I thought it was I receive something?"

"A kiss." He shrugs.

"You wish." You roll your eyes. "I'll think about it if you win driver’s cup, and our team wins the constructor's championship."

"Oh, say less." He grins.

You wish you could say you despise Leon. You don't — truly. You find it entertaining to push his buttons the same way he pushes yours. You find it amusing when he tilts his head and begs for your attention. Twisted? Maybe. Entertaining? Very. Leon's not one to beg for attention. He's always the center of attention, so for him to want your attention gives you quite a glimpse into what kind of a person he is. Maybe you just bruise his ego. Though, not that you can feed it. If you feed it anymore, his head's gonna get so big that he floats away. It makes you laugh — the idea of Leon floating away with a big-ass head.

You set up for the screen after the meeting in the morning. Leon's allowed to go insane, and Mike has a plan in case Leon wants to try something new. Though, you're sure that won't be the case. You want Leon to try chasing the ever-living fuck out of someone. You want Leon to go insane, or whatever he liked calling it. Ada called you a wildcard, but truly, you could not come up with it on your own. Leon's the one who just makes stuff up on the fly.

Though, you want to have Leon pull off better skill.

So, when the first ten laps go by and Leon hasn't moved up, you huff.

"Cut through Krauser to break into second."

"Oh? Say less."

"Don't do anything too reck—"

You watch as Leon slides right through Krauser and the wall in one of the sharpest turns on the track, wincing as Leon doesn't bother braking, forcing Krauser behind him as he laughs into the mic. You sigh considering it was your fault, but you're glad he's at least broken through. Krauser may try and chase Leon down in the corners, but as long as he gets enough gain, it should be... feasible. Though, when the performance engineer mics in, you groan.

"Leon. Pit. Box, box. Puncture in back right tire."

"Dammit." He huffs. "Time loss estimate?"

"Five seconds behind Helena."

Leon pits and gets his tire changed, speeding off back into the track in eighth, huffing and pouting as he has to overtake so many people again.

"Overtake opening."

"Copy." Leon slides past two cars and gains on the inside. "Tell Helena to guard."

"Roger."

Leon flies past Helena, telling you to thank Hunnigan, and he tails behind Krauser again. He huffs, knowing that Krauser would probably just force him into the wall this time rather than brake, but you have other plans.

"Do the same thing."

"He's not going to brake."

"He will." You pause. "Think about it."

"He's got a wife and kids to go home to." Leon scoffs. "You're insane."

"Hey, you said it." You watch as he forces past Krauser just barely again, sparks flying from the back of his car as he pushes past, gaining distance and blocking him from any overtakes, laugh registering through his mic as you raise a brow.

"Don't get cocky now, Kennedy."

"Wouldn't dream of it with you on the line, sweetheart."

Halfway in, Leon finally gains on Ada, tailing right behind her as she closes in to stop him from passing, and Leon huffs. You don't speak to him, and none of the engineers call for a pit. You leave him alone to make the call. Ada can predict what both you and Mike call, but you're sure she isn't capable of predicting just what kind of a bullshit move Leon would be able to pull.

"Open DRS."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

Leon's a nightmare. You think Leon's a nightmare. He forces past her where he should have braked, forcing her into the same position as Krauser, wheels touching hers as you hold your breath for a pit, surprised when there's a lack of one.

"Are you open to pitting another time?"

"No." Leon hisses, blocking Ada on a corner, gaining the inside.

"Then take care of your tires."

"Copy."

You find that Leon doesn't really take any racer seriously outside of Ada. Maybe his thought process actually spins when he's defending first, his radio going quiet from all the banter that you had prior to this. He'll have his fill of it later when you have to pay for dinner, but it's not right now. Leon's too straightforward at this point of the race to even think what he's saying to you. Blessing or curse? Curse for you, blessing for his media team.

"Good gain. Ada two seconds behind."

"Praise me."

You laugh, humming as Leon repeats his request.

"Praise me."

"You're doing great, Leon. Push for five seconds." You hum. "I'll praise you more if you win."

"Say less."

You watch as he pushes even harder, muting yourself as you laugh at the way he goes quiet for the next five laps.

"Ten til completion."

"Roger that. Helena?"

"P3."

"Can she chase Ada for me?"

"Will request."

You mic over to Hunnigan to request Helena's aid in keeping Ada at bay, and she tells you she'll try. It's no guarantee considering how skilled Ada is, but it's worth the shot, definitely. Lots of factors play into how a race goes, but Ada hasn't pitted even once, and you assume it's because she wants to hold out against Leon for as long as possible. Though, she's already behind him. Maybe she's forcing him to wear his tires down.

"Leon, Ada upcoming pit. Push."

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"You can do better."

"We better be chowing down on cheesecake factory after this."

"You want cheesecake factory?"

"Last of chain foods before two races in the two Eurasia." Leon huffs. "You're paying if I place first."

"What happened to chivalry?"

"Dead if I win this race."

"You know what? I hope you place second just so I don't need to pay—"

"Just tell me to kill myself at this point."

"Ada return. Gain 6.7 seconds. Final three laps." You report.

"Copy. Can I do doughnuts if I win?"

"Not for another two races." You click your tongue. "I'll take us for milkshakes tomorrow after the meeting if you place first."

"The good place?"

"Where else?"

"I don't know." Leon goes quiet, presumably to focus on the turns. "Lap count?"

"Last one." You hum. "Congrats on fastest lap."

"Maybe you're my lucky charm. You should kiss me next time to see if it works better."

"I'm going to drop kick you across the track if you say that to me one more time." You grimace.

"Come on. You gotta congratulate me if I win first." Leon laughs, speeding down the straight as the checkered flag is waved for him.

"P1. Congrats." You hum. "Good job."

"Call me good boy."

"Over the work radio? I think not." You laugh, disconnecting as you grab the other engineers to cheer.

When everyone rushes to the front, you stay in the back, winking at Leon as his eyes meet yours. He cocks up an eyebrow and you sigh, shaking your head as your mouth opens.

'Good boy'

If Leon had a tail, it'd be wagging by now from the look on his face.

He sticks his tongue out at you in response, biting it to show his canines as he goes bouncing off in the back. It makes you shake your head, but he rushes over to Ada for a hug, Helena giving him a fistbump as Leon gives her thanks. It's nice to be cherished. Though, you're surprised when Chris gives Leon a handshake. Huh. You didn't realize he was chill like that— or however the saying goes. You find it amusing. Leon locks eyes with you after talking to Chris, running through the cars to point at you. Oh, maybe it's because they're both from Raccoon.

You tilt your head as you're pushed to the front, and Leon tilts his head at you. You feel like it should be Leon Sly Kennedy and not Scott. What an awful person he is.

"Alright, alright," You reach up for his hair, fighting back the grimace that comes with all of the sweat, humming. "Good boy."

"That's what I like to hear." He grins, leaning into your palm.

"What are you? A dog?" You pull your hand from his hair, Leon turning to head over to the podium.

"Your dog, maybe?"

Aaaand he's off with a wink.

You shudder at the thought, grimacing as Leon sings his way to the podium. He accepts the trophy with a thank you and then pops the champagne, and you duck when he aims for you, causing it to land square in Mike's face. You manage a "sorry" before Mike wipes it off his face, gawking at Leon as he purses his lips.

"Wasn't aiming for you! Sorry, Mike." He smiles.

"I want dinner too!"

"We can take the team."

"Isn't he paying?"

"I am. I can decide that."

"Nah, rather not have to third and fourth wheel." The performance engineer rolls his eyes.

"You're not gonna be my saving grace?"

"He'd kill us both."

You groan, getting up when you realize Leon's finished spraying his bottle. He pours a glass for himself, downing it as you tilt your head and watch him. He pours another glass, hopping down the podium as he holds it out for you.

"Oh? For me?"

"If not you then who?"

"The rest of your team?" You raise a brow, pressing it to your lips as you drink.

Leon bubbles over with excitement under his skin at the indirect kiss. He has one last swig left in the bottle.

That way, he can say he kissed you — even if it was indirectly.

He takes the glass from you as he takes it pouring the last of the bottle into the glass as he licks at the place where your lip balm was. Maintaining eye contact with you the whole time, he watches for even a glimpse of embarrassment on your face.

You raise a brow, but the flush on your skin is his confirmation.

Then, he presses his lips to exactly where yours were, throwing his head back to down the last of it. The alcohol slides down the corners of his mouth and his throat as his adam's apple bobs, liquid sliding down. Once he's sure the glass is empty, only then does he relax himself and sigh, smirking at you as you raise a brow. Sexual awakening? Not exactly. Something that you'd get embarrassed over watching on television? Yeah.

It makes you uncomfortably warm at the neck, pulling at your collar as Leon gives you bedroom eyes, and that elicits a look of concern and grimace from you.

Old habits die hard.

You wave goodbye to him as he heads off to the interview and debrief, laugh on your lips as you retire with everyone else.

Helena makes one last stop before going to her own interview, grabbing your shoulder with a hand as you raise a brow.

"Twenty eight likes you. A lot."

"Too bad I can't date him."

She raises a brow in disbelief and shrugs.

"Good luck at the interview."

"Thanks. Have fun at dinner later."

"Does he debrief with you?"

"Maybe? Maybe not." She winks. "Catch you next race!"

You wave, raising a brow and jumping in your skin as Mike grabs your shoulder.

"He's down so bad."

"Thanks. I prefer to ignore it."

His laugh is more than enough to make you laugh too.

You get Cheesecake Factory with Leon. It's a little unceremonious,  but as the two of absolutely go to town on your own meals, it does not matter. Whatever banter and flirting was going on on the track is ignored. This is not your problem. Your problem at the moment is to down an unreal amount of calories in the span of ten minutes, all presented to you on a platter from Cheesecake Factory. That's what you give a fuck about at the moment.

You wonder if Leon's gained any weight at all after eating... barely eating his diet. You're sure his dietician would grill the two of you to shreds for this, but you don't care. You're free. Leon's problem is his problem. You don't care if this one meal is singlehandedly restoring your weight loss over the week from exhaustion. This is your victory meal as much as it is Leon's.

"If I win next time will you go out with me?"

You blink at Leon, wiping your mouth.

"I did not just hear that come out of your mouth."

"You did."

"You woke up and decided to be twenty times more insufferable, huh?" You raise a brow. "No. I'm not complying. It's supposed to be me getting a reward."

"Is dating me not enough of a reward?"

"Not even close." You wipe at your mouth. "Isn't your dietician going to kill you for this meal?"

"I just have to burn it off." He shrugs. "Shall we take a stroll by the vegas strip?"

"Well, if you insist." You reach for your card, Leon's hand placed over yours as he takes his own out. "Leon. You placed first."

"I insist." He hums. "Now you owe me."

"Better not be more than a meal." You smile. "Milkshakes? No. Your caloric—"

"Nuh-uh. All those calories from the alcohol at the afterparty is going to turn into my milkshake."

"You don't even drink—" You pause. "I lied. I've seen that shots shots shots video circulating around of you."

"Yeah." He grins. "Yet, here I am. I'm here having dinner with you instead."

"You act as though you didn't have a choice."

"You're the one acting that way! Come on, let's go find the milkshake place."

"Don't you ever worry about paparazzi?"

"Fans are used to it by now. Haven't you seen them on Twitter betting on where we'll be eating next?" He offers you his hand, to which you raise a brow.

"Take my hand."

"Nuh uh."

"Fuck you mean nuh uh???"

You roll your eyes, getting up on your own as Leon pouts at you.

"Please?"

"I'll pay for milkshakes. Stop pouting."

"I'm gonna pout the whole way until you take my hand."

You raise a brow, following after him as he pouts at you the whole way, only returning to normal when some fans stop to ask for his signature. He makes light chat with them and you raise a brow, surprised when they hop over to your next, pen held out to you as you blink.

"You sure?"

"Yes. He's not a Stratcom racer without you." She tilts her head. "You're also like. Iconic."

You laugh, popping the cap of the pen as you ask her where you should sign, the other girl butting in to tell you to sign by the heart. You raise a brow but comply, the two girls squealing as you cap the pen again. They thank you, gushing as they as for a photo with you. You're surprised you've gained such a name just by being Leon's race engineer alone. You don't... dislike it.

"Are you two dating?!"

"No."

"Wish we were." Leon huffs.

"He's joking."

"I'm not."

"He is." You insist.

"You two have very fun conversations on the radio." One of the girls smile. "I like hearing you put him in his place."

You laugh, hunched over as Leon gawks, offended.

"I thought you were my fans?"

"Yeah, but I like your race engineer better." She whistles, looking to the side. "She's... hotter."

You laugh even harder, crouching on the ground as Leon holds a hand to his heart dramatically.

"Fake."

You get back up, patting Leon's back as you shake your head.

"Sorry to steal your spotlight, Kennedy." You hum. "Thank you, though."

"Honored! Are you both grabbing food?"

"Post-victory dinner just finished."

"And then?"

"We're getting a sweet treat." You grin.

"Sharing a milkshake?"

"No, I don't—"

"Good idea." Leon butts in, grabbing your wrist as he smiles. "We'll get going, though. Glad you enjoyed the race."

"Have fun!"

You stumble after Leon with a brow raised, unsurprised when he wraps his hand around yours, giving you a victorious grin as you scoff.

"This was your plan?"

"You're not going to defeat me in terms of grip strength."

You resist the urge to make a joke about grip, shaking the whole time your lips are pursed, coming off a lot as a spongebob meme, breaking into a fit of laughter eventually when you fail to resist.

"What?"

"You know what could defeat you in terms of grip strength?"

"Mind showing me? I'm a hands-on learner."

"This. This." You'd usually be too concerned to give a response, but the need to make the joke is too strong. You cut yourself with your own laughter, though, following after Leon as he shakes his head.

He rolls his eyes. "In public is insane."

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LITERALLY JUST SAID—"

"We're here." He looks up at the place, pushing the doors open as you raise a brow in suspicion.

"Wow, you're like a local." You laugh, following after him as he orders, holding your phone to the side as you fight him to pay for the milkshakes, his strength too much for you as you eventually give up and let him pay for your treat. You groan the whole time, his laugh only even more spiteful as you take your milkshake with a pout on your kips, biting on the straw as he tilts his head at you.

"Come on."

You huff. "I was supposed to pay."

"You can pay when you earn as much as I do."

"You know what? I should be relishing in the fact that I haven't spent a dime so far." You roll your eyes. "Thank you for sparing my bank account."

"Of course."

"When do you fly?"

"Wednesday."

"Are you walking?" You raise a brow, tongue red from the milkshake.

"I'll see you there." He hums, sticking his tongue out. "We should make a pink milkshake."

You grimace, smacking him on the arm as he pouts.

"Meanie."

"whore."

You fly out Tuesday after the debrief with Leon, flight awful for you despite upgrading to business class, exhaustion from weeks of flying back and forth finally building up on your body. You're close. You have, what? two more weeks? The second to last race was this week, and you could rest easy if Leon could just get the title of champion after placing first. Though, arguably as long as he gets those 26 points before the end of the season, he could rest safe. Krauser still had the chance of winning if he placed first in literally any of these competitions. It wasn't a good thing on Leon's end, but you were just as stressed as he was.

You're going to explode.

Yet, you walk the lap around the track, sighing as Leon catches the look on your face.

"Sad?"

"God, I hope nothing goes wrong with your car."

"Why? You think it'll happen?"

"Aim to get fourth."

"We're not aiming for podium?"

"That bad feeling in my stomach says to not risk anything today. We're following Mike."

Leon frowns at you, clicking his tongue. "Why?"

"The car doesn't feel safe."

"You're insane."

"I'm not. Leon."

"And if I don't listen?"

"Then crash."

Leon places first in q3, and you hold your breath as he takes a gain on the rest of the cars in first place, defending for life against Ada. You watch the whole time as he stays in first place, only contacting him when he needs to pit for a change of tires, holding your breath as neither of you seem to speak over the radio. You read wind speed and what else he can do, but for the most part he barely responds. You can only hope he's not going through some sort of late teenage rebellion stage of his life. You watch and convey words from the rest of the engineers, trusting that Leon will at least know how to handle certain situations. You might be babying him quite hard, but it's honestly—

"Puncture in tyre. Pit. Pit. Box, box." You read.

"Which tire."

"Front right."

"Copy."

You watch as the tire explodes on him and his car, causing it to spin as Leon crashes into the wall. It causes you to wince, checking to see if they deploy a safety car or pull a red. Though, it makes you tired. Leon just didn't like listening. He picked up the puncture because he had told you he thought he could push further with the tyres. You grimace at the screen and mentally prepare yourself for Leon's influx of emotions.

The groan that Leon lets out causes you to pull the headphones out from sheer vibration.

"Get over here in the garage."

"This is your fault."

"This is NOT my fault. I told you to be careful this race." You huff. "Come on."

"I'm not watching Helena race."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, white boy."

Leon groans a second time at the nickname.

He stands behind you with a frown on his face the whole time as you watch the race. Helena's doing okay. You don't think she's too familiar with the track, and the amount of turns on the track are a little tricky to handle. She slows and gets overtaken often at the tracks. You can't say much considering that lots of people struggle with the track, but you find it impressive that she's managed to guard her position as fifth, steady with her turns as she grows used to the track by the middle. You wonder if she'll place podium.

Well, not that you'd be disappointed. You like placing podium, but the team's been on there an unreal amount since Leon and Helena joined. Lowering their expectation every now and then couldn't hurt. Well, at least not like it hurts veterans to get their asses kicked and realize their driving is getting worse. You wonder if that's why Leon's so bitter. At the very least, he placed 10th considering how many other cars just casually got pulled off. He did alright. All that needs to happen is Krauser not winning first — which sounds a little insane considering that he's first at the moment.

Leon took one first place, but somehow that title wasn't awarded to him. Well, it seemed that you'd be working your ass off for another week. God forbid you have a day off before the end of the season. You truly can not win. You watch as Helena tries to climb once as she has enough space, but it still isn't enough. You're not even disappointed anymore. You honestly just want to go home. You're so tired, it's unreal. The flight did not give you enough rest time, and so many things have been keeping you awake. So many? Sorry.

Images of Leon squeezing your hand while you walked down the Vegas strip have been haunting you at night.

You are not immune to the white boy agenda.

So, you close your eyes as you decide to doze off in the garage.

You're off duty now. You're free.

Leon catches your head before you fall over completely, gloved hand gentle on your skin as you lean on him, eyes closed and breathing stable as you catch a break. He feels bad for blaming you. You truly only mean the best for him, but it wasn't as if you were doing it right. Leon huffs as he holds your head in place, watching as Helena climbs to fourth in the last twenty laps. He raises a brow, impressed at her skill, and then he holds his breath as she touches wheels with Krauser. He knows how bad it is. He wonders if you ever get this anxious and invested in a race. Maybe that was why you never reacted when he won first place. You were still adjusting... or whatnot.

You seem awfully comfortable for someone who's falling asleep while literally sitting up.

The end of the race comes too fast, and Helena places fourth. Krauser places first again, and Leon clicks his tongue. It annoys him. He needs to place first next race. Instead of walking out with everyone to watch, Leon takes the seat next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder for longer, glaring at Hunnigan when she gives the two of you a raised brow. He's not dealing with that. He might as well cherish the fact that you aren't biting back at him for once. Well, not that he's undeserving of all the shit you throw at him for being on the track.

You wake at one point, Leon knocked out with his head on top of yours. You blink at the pit crew cleaning up, groaning as every muscle in your body is begging for you to free it from whatever position you're currently in. You hold Leon's head in place, standing up to stretch, groaning as you do. You hear your back crack.

Leon stirs, opening his eyes and grumbling.

"I feel like shit."

"That makes two of us." You groan, stretching your arms above your head as you sigh. "I need to go back to the hotel room."

"No strategy debrief?"

"I'm too tired for that. Maybe over dessert?"

"Let's do room service again." Leon sighs. "My room this time."

You raise a brow. "Can I shower first?"

"Shower at mine."

"Okay. Damn. Whore."

"Bring your clothes. I'm not— You know what? If you're up for it."

"NO."

You end up cleaning yourself up first, towel around your neck as you step out and get changed into pajamas, knocking on Leon's room unceremoniously with your laptop and everything you might need to debrief. You wonder what it's like to be in a suite in a hotel, but you don't care. Quite frankly, you're not really in the mood to be debriefing, but anything to have your wallet not break over a room service meal. You don't even care if it's a salad at this point. Leon seems to know your general taste by now. Insane on his end, but who are you to complain?

"Come on."

"It was just a tire puncture this time."

"Yes, but something's gone wrong with my car twice in the last 3 races." He reasons. "Something needs to be changed."

"Do you want the edits you requested last time immediately?"

"That would be nice." He hums. "Also, new things to fix."

You yawn, watching as Leon draws arrows at what was flashing wrong, and you realize pretty quickly that the performance engineer was not doing what he was supposed to and keeping an eye out on everything. It makes you almost annoyed, but you don't tell Leon, opting to text the head engineer instead. You don't care if you have to find someone new. You need someone to actually watch what the hell was going on the track. Waiting until things were in the red to fix it wasn't smart. Leon's car had to be fixed as soon as anything on the car hit yellow. It was incredible how bad Leon was at car management.

"We're going to change performance engineers for your next race." You glance at the response from the head engineer.

"Really?"

"The puncture had been there for a while. It's not just an average blunder to not notice that there's something in the tire."

"Ah, right. You were that once."

"Yeah." You stab into a piece of the steak already cut, chewing as you raise a brow. "It might be someone inexperienced, but as long as they can consistently report what the numbers are, I'll live. Correction. You'll live."

"And if I crash my car?"

"Then Helena's going to need to force Krauser back until he can't score any more points than you. What are you? 379 right now?"

"379."

"Krauser's at 362. He can't place any higher than second. He's been doing well lately, so it's not out of the question for him to place podium. He can't place podium. Okay? You have to place higher than him."

"If he wins first... that just means I have to score over 390."

"Yes."

"So not first?"

"Just aim for first. Don't you want to go out with a bang?" You raise a brow.

"If I do, can I kiss you?"

"You have to place first."

"I'm taking that as a yes, then."

"I'm not saying no."

Leon flies in with you on Wednesday, involved the whole time during the debrief to discuss what can be changed and improved, deciding which tires to start off with on Thursday, and personally running around in the car during the free practices. The car's adjustments are made on the spot, and Leon grows comfortable with the car and the steering wheel before the race, slow laps around the field to get a feel, faster laps around the circuit to prepare for qualifying. He seldom talks to you, only on the radio when he drives, asking questions on how the car was doing.

He's a lot more vocal to check for the car now that it's someone completely new on the team.

You report everything he asks when he practices, checking that he's comfortable with where he's at, comfortable with knowing what his car is like. You find that his comfort probably matters a lot more than anything else at the moment. All you need to guarantee is that he gets the nine points. Though, you're aiming for him to get first place for once. You'll be cheering this race if he places first in more ways than one.

Leon races through qualifying with a passion you didn't know he could actually show, and you start to wonder if he's really just... locked in.

He places second for q3, and you take a look at the circuit, debriefing with him when he's back, nodding at him in approval when he beams at you. You might as well let yourself start getting more honest.

You think you like Leon. Well, not that you can tell. You think you like him, though. Maybe not the same way he does you, but you definitely like him.

"Still with me for that win, right?"

"Yeah, but you better win." You hum.

"You'll help me?"

"What can I do but?"

Leon rests in position, eyes on the road as the light flashes from red to green, gas pressed and speed active as he races down the start, overtaking Ada with a push, forcing a turn on the inside as he starts playing defense. The race to first was always easier than the keeping of first. You aren't sure if Leon will keep it steady throughout the entire time, but his plan in the hotel had been simple. He didn't need to place first, he just needed to chase both Ada and Krauser down until either of them wore their tires to shreds. It was a pretty simple plan on his end considering he was good at ruining both his car and others'.

"Lap?"

"35 left." You read. "How's the car? Performance engineer reports nothing sensors showing."

"It's alright." He turns, checking his rearview mirrors as he clicks his tongue. "Krauser chasing."

"Let him pass."

"What?"

"Tear that car to shreds."

"That's illegal."

"Not if he does it himself."

Leon clicks his tongue, scoffing.

"Blaming you if I get flagged."

"Blame me all you want."

Leon falls back and stages an accidental overpass, eyes focusing on the way Krauser passes him with Ada on his tail, Leon's lips curling upwards. Ada will tear Krauser to shreds for him. Ada may not play it as risky as he does, but he doesn't need Ada to be behind him, he needs Krauser torn to shreds. It had been that exact reason that he had played the cards of the public. The championship can only really be either of them. Ada's break had been the perfect opportunity for him, and he watches as Ada chases Krauser down.

You knew, maybe. You probably knew as soon as you realized he had lunch with Ada.

"Ada shredding Krauser. Touched wheels."

"Laps left?"

"30."

"She'll tear him down enough for me to overtake."

"You sure?"

"She promised." Leon hums, turning off his radio.

Ada does as promised, forcing Krauser to expend his tires and lose grip, forced into another pit stop as Leon takes the chance to chase after Ada. He understands she won't let him pass, but all that mattered was Krauser placing behind him. He needed to end up on that podium, and his pride wouldn't allow him anything other than the position of first. He chases after Ada on the corners as Krauser returns, pushing as he huffs when she cuts him off.

"How are the tires?"

"Losing grip."

"Pit now?" You pause. "Twenty seconds between you and Helena."

"Confirm."

"Confirmed pit. Box, box. We're ready when you are."

Leon glances to the side, sharp turn into the pit, wheels changed to soft ones as he races back out.

"Gap."

"Two seconds behind Helena. Five seconds in front of Chris."

"Can you have her let me pass?"

"Will ask. Go ahead and force past her anyway."

"Copy."

Leon speeds past Helena, making a mental note to thank her later, chasing after Krauser as he follows closely behind Ada, leaving enough space for Krauser and his brashness.

"Can I make him crash?"

"FIA can hear you."

"I'm not actually gonna do it."

"Twenty laps left."

"Cutting it is."

Leon wonders if Krauser really wants to deal with the same overtake three times, but he doesn't really care. If he loses, then so be it. He values his life a little less than Krauser. So, it's unsurprising when he goes for violent overtakes, forcing himself on the inside and forcing Krauser to brake, laugh on his lips as he zips past him. You keep an eye on everything else on the track, telling Leon to push.

"Fifteen laps. Get a grip, Leon." Your lips quirk up. "Gotta push."

"Thanks, tire grip is fine." He barks out a laugh, trying to cut through Ada on another turn as she stops him. "See you in ten laps."

"Catch you then."

Leon maneuvers around Ada's car in a series of close calls, grumbling to himself as he decides that he's just not going to brake the next time she pushes him into the wall. Front wing be dammed, he was so close to the finish line it didn't matter as much anymore. Yes, balance would be toppled, but it didn't matter if he could get both off at the same time. Ada has a survival instinct, and Leon would just force himself to overwrite that survival instinct. It won't matter to him as much if he loses something on the car.

"I'm gonna do a stupid."

"Oh, god."

Leon forces himself past Ada on a corner, refusing to brake and touching wheels with Ada, forcing her to the side as he speeds up, finally overtaking her and taking first. He doesn't call in in his final laps, far too invested in keeping first, stopping Ada from getting too close, grumbling though the circuit.

"Lap?"

"Final. Krauser in third. Keep your pace, Leon. You're almost there."

"God, I can't wait for my stupid prize."

Leon's final lap has minimal resistance, Ada seemingly falling a little more behind to keep Krauser out of the way, Leon flying past the checkered flag as he yells, hand thrown up as he cheers.

"DOUGHNUTS."

"Yes, Leon. We discussed this—"

You watch as Leon spins around the track, tearing the car to shreds in the process, wasting no material as he yells out, cheering and spinning on the track to do doughnuts.

"Good job, Leon."

"Now get over here so I can get my reward."

You ditch the headphones, following him as he goes back on the track to drive to his position, the rest of the team racing over to grab him, and Leon throws off his helmet, shoving it into someone's arms as he reaches for you, hands flying to the sides of your face as you yell, his lips pressed to yours as he melts into you, hand moving to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, dipping you as much as he can without your knees giving out on you. He steals every breath you can take, gloves a little nasty on your face as you throw your arms around his neck. Someone next to you yells and you think people pull out their phones, but you couldn't care less.

You've grown far too used to Leon's way of affection anyway.

You pull away first, wiping your lips from the sweat on his face, and he stares at you, beaming as you brace yourself for the million-dollar question.

"Be my girlfriend."

"Not with that attitude." You raise a brow. "Nuh uh."

Leon blinks at you, confusion all over his face as you raise a brow.

"What."

"Not with that attitude."

"Please? Go out with me?"

You roll your eyes. "What happened to chivalry?"

"Sorry, excuse me for a second." Leon lifts you over the fencing, making you yell as he carries you over to the stage.

"WHAT THE FUCK."

Leon takes his trophy as you watch from below the stage, handed a bottle of rose water as you shake it to pop it at him. The team won the constructors championship, so you think you get a little treat. You spray it in Leon's face as he sprays his at you, yelling as you close your eyes, pouring out the last bit to clink glasses with Leon. You don't care. You don't care anymore. The team just won world championship, you think there are other things that you care about right now.

Leon loops his arm around yours before you can drink, clinking glasses with you one last time before pressing his drink to his lips. You comply, lips pressed to the glass as you down the last bit, swallowing and pausing to think. This feels an awful lot like a wedding ceremony. You don't think too much about it, unlinking your arm with his to put the glass down, surprise on your face when he dives in for another kiss on the podium, lips pressed to yours as all you can taste in champagne, tongue pressed to yours with wet hair framing his face, stickiness from the alcohol on his face when you reach for his cheek, thumb brushing at it as he dips you for real this time, swallowing you whole on stage as squirm to push him off of you. You're sticky from the drink too, rose definitely on his tongue when he kisses you. You finally break free, head thrown back as he rests his head in the crook of your neck with a blissful sigh.

"God, that was so worth it."

"Kennedy, you're crazy."

"Only for you."

You fight back the grimace, opting for smacking him instead.

"We're not going for dinner first today. We're showering."

"Together?"

"No, you freak."

Leon sighs, burying his head in your chest instead.

"As long as we can get dinner after."

"I want your Nonna's pasta."

"Buying tickets right now."

"YOU HAVE AN INTERVIEW."

Leon presses a kiss to your cheek, staring at you through his lashes as he huffs. "Tomorrow, then. We can get room service for tonight."

"Only if—"

"I'll pay."

"Deal."

You let Leon wrap an arm around your waist as he cheers some more, your eye roll caught on camera for the media to see, but it doesn't really matter. Leon squeezes his cheek to yours, arm snug around your waist as he sticks his tongue out for the cameras, trophy held up for the world to see. You bet he’d wear your name around his neck if you asked him. Actually, you wonder how the hell he even got the title of playboy or flirt. Whatever Chad energy this man had when he started racing was NOT visible when he started working with you. This man is a walking loser stuck in a hot man’s body. Your loser, though.

Thank god you went to grab coffee first race of the season.

[maxwapan]

I don’t want nothing from you at all (Me and you we’re just like glue)

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

word count. 1.3k

cws. incest, dad/son incest, OOC(duh), implied abuse, alcoholism, mutual interest

note. idk i thought this was funny though, any older Leon can be imagined here he’s just like a weird old man idk || title is Glue by P.H.F.

Your dad kisses you on the lips.

It’s not weird or anything, not really.

Well, at least, not to you. He’s been doing it for a while now, so much so that you’ve gotten used to it. It’s always after soccer practice, always after school— always after you’ve been apart for longer than an hour or so. It’s not a cute little peck or anything saccharine like that, it’s a full on tonguing. An exchange of saliva and spit.

It’s embarrassing, sometimes. Especially whenever he does it in plain view, where anyone could see and report the two of you for public indecency or potential incest. Worst of all, he has no fucking shame about it, just does it as if it were as simple as blinking. He doesn’t look away in shame or fluster after he does it, just pats you on the back and asks about your day as if it were nothing, as if he hadn’t just shoved his tongue down your throat.

You’re all sweaty and hot after soccer practice, panting softly as your friend offers you a water bottle. You take it with a grateful smile, popping open the cap with a twist and bringing the top to your lips.

Just as you start to relax though, you spot your dad’s car in the parking lot, tummy coiling with dread. Your Adam’s apple bobs with every eager gulp, the cool liquid doing nothing to ease your nerves or tame them. You space out as you drink, mind running with the many excuses you could use to escape the oncoming embarrassment.

Unfortunately, none of them make sense, and you can barely form a coherent thought with how exhausted you are, too focused on the painful burn in your legs and the icy water against your lips.

“Hey, is that your dad?” Your friend asks, perking up. You feel your heart skip a beat.

A large hand lands on your shoulder before you could notice, squeezing gently.

“Hey boys,” Your dad, Leon, grins widely, showing all his teeth. He has a charming smile, one he always puts on for people he wants to look good for. Like good-looking ladies at the mall or teenage boys that feel uncomfortable around him at the park. He could use some more brushing, in your opinion. “How did practice go? Make any goals?”

Jesus christ, he’s wearing his cop uniform. How embarrassing can he get? He only wears that shit to look cool and intimidating in front of your friends, and it’s so obvious. You caught on immediately whenever he started willingly stepping out of the car to pick you up from hangouts instead of his usual ‘hide and wait’ routine.

You flounder, and luckily your friend answers before you, nodding along to Leon’s words with a cheeky smirk. “Yeah!” He says, “We managed to get some balls in before the other guys we were playing with left.” He puffs his chest out pridefully, chin raised. Man, he’s always sucking up to your dad, but you guess anyone would want to get on the good side of a cop. Especially if he’s your dad.

Leon huffs out a small chuckle at the phrasing, glancing over at you knowingly. You roll your eyes in turn, shrugging lamely. It’s not that funny.

“Well, you know the drill,” Your dad nods towards you, patting your back roughly, “gotta get this one back home. He’s got homework.” You wilt, groaning under your breath. He’s acting so normal that you almost forget about the kiss you’re definitely going to get soon, but then Leon leans towards you, lowering his head.

Your heart lurches and you dodge his lips just in time by turning to look at your friend, heat rising to your face, making you sweat again. “Wait! Uhm, you still up for Sunday?” You smile weakly, hoping to stall. A rough pinch at your hip makes you wince, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a whimper. Ouch.

Your friend, clueless as always, nods. “Yeah, for sure, man.” It’s only an added minute of distraction, but it works, ‘cause your dad doesn’t try to kiss you again. He’s probably annoyed. Probably giving you a look right now. That disapproving look dads always give.

“See ya,” Is the last thing your friend says before he turns to leave, dirty soccer ball in his hand. That’s when you feel Leon’s hand on you again, rough and calloused, this time on your face, tugging your chin towards him. Your eyes meet his, and your heart starts to race.

“That wasn’t very nice, you know,” Leon chides, a stern look on his face. He looks genuinely upset, as if you had insulted him or something. The thought makes you shudder, a small frown curling your lips. Damn all parents that don’t know they’re being embarrassing.

Dad has always been mellow. Like, he’s there but he’s not at the same time, if that makes any sense. He’s just some dude in your house, you guess. That’s why it’s kinda scary when he gets upset. He gets all weird and tense, starts drinking a whole lot. And you don’t want a repeat of last time he got shit-faced. He hits like a motherfucker.

“Sorry,” You murmur meekly, glancing down at your untied shoes, eyes tracing over the grass stains and the splotches of mud on the front of them. “I got nervous…” Honesty is the best policy, especially with dad. It’s best you play up that pathetic baby boy act with him, cause the moment he feels like you’ve got an attitude he’ll drag you to the car by the ear and’ll have you over his knee with your ass bared by the time you get home.

Leon’s eyes soften, and he buys the act. He’s old, he can’t just assume everyone’s out to get him now. He’s got nothing to his name but some cash and maybe a big dick, and you don’t want either. Not really.

His freehand ghosts over your hip, the same one he pinched before, as if trying to soothe the sting. It’s long gone by now, so there’s nothing to soothe, but you lean into it anyways. He hums, says “give daddy his kiss,” and puckers his lips, making you feel like a small child. Either way, you oblige with a tiny sigh, making sure to glance around first before leaning forward and meeting his lips with your own.

And just like you expected, he quickly takes advantage, slipping his tongue in and thrusting it into your mouth. Moaning softly, your eyes droop, and you start to suckle on the muscle immediately, licking tentatively in return. You’re nervous, tugging at the front of his uniform with your hands.

Worst case scenario: someone recognizes you and calls you out for kissing your dad. Best— albeit embarrassing— case scenario: someone assumes that a random cop has you wrapped around his finger.

Luckily, the field seems to be empty right now.

Leon’s hands grab at the back of your head gently, pushing you forward. A swirl of his tongue, a nip with his teeth, and you start to feel dizzy, leaning forward so much that you would have toppled over if it wasn’t for Leon’s broad chest against yours keeping you steady.

And just like that, he stops, letting go of your hair and stepping back with a pleased smile and a wet smack of his lips, the string of saliva connecting you two snapping in an instant. He pats your back, again, licks his lips clean of your saliva, and then pinches your cheek playfully. “Alright, come on. It’s getting late.”

He doesn’t wait for you to process what just happened, turning to walk towards the car with his hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

You wobble for a second, in a daze. Shaking your head, you start to follow mindlessly, bringing a hand to your face. Your fingers gently graze your lips, and you smile to yourself, butterflies flapping in your tummy.

Calling out to your dad, you pick up pace to try and catch up.

“Can we get pizza?”

[igzsatelier]

Saw the RE4R gameplay and I thought I might as well watch RE2R playthrough too, and now its just Leon brainrot all day everyday baby

Imagine RE2R Leon waddling through the dark sewer water as you watch his back moving further into the murky tunnel. His shotgun held close to his chest so he could protect you both. The piles of trash in the corner makes your nose curl, both the smell and the sight. Gross.

You cried out your disgust dramatically while trying to keep up with Leon. He merely chuckled at your distress and he assures you that you two won't stay here for long. Flashing you an amused smirk over his shoulder.

"If I keep following you for more than a minute I might die to shit," You grumbled bitterly as you glared back at him.

He barks out a laugh.

"That's too bad,"

He turned his body to you, a certain and boyish grin on his handsome face.

"You won't get rid of me that easily."

💛

Imagine you and RE4R Leon dashing through the blurry chilly air. The cold smoke makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

It doesn't quite help you two much since it was ridiculously freezing in this maze-like freezer room, and playing hide and seek with a durable exoskeleton zombie with a tail as sharp as a blade.

As soon as you both hear the,

Ding!

You both ran for the elavator, as quickly as your adrenaline can carry you. Cold sweat dripping down your forehead while puffing cold air.

Leon slides through the elavator with you right behind him, he slammed the lighted button on the wall. The metal doors staggered the zombie's tail attack and stumble on its feet. You both sighed a moment of relief once the door calmly closes and carries you to the upper levels.

Although, the relief was gone when Leon dropped to his knees and clutching his head. He was groaning and grit his teeth, shaking his head to try and give him some ease from the numbing pain. The Plagas showed itself through Leon's arms, creeping through as black veins.

Like he was caught in a spiderweb.

Concern etched on to your face. You mimicked his stance and held his shoulders firmly, calling out his name. Determined to snap him out of it, and worried how it was making him worse.

He doesn't notice you, but you kept holding him. As if your comforting touch would help him.

As if to remind him that you were there with him.

[courtofparrots]

33 and Serennedy <33

WOOOOO ok here's the prompt list

33. "Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night. Or if you went to bed, for that matter."

Leon just got home. He just got home, he's completely safe, he's hardly even bruised. It's a wonderful thing, but Luis can't let himself fall into the relief of having his partner back just yet because Leon is... glaring at him?

Luis feels the grin slide off of his face, and he can't help feeling like a child that's just been caught. It's the same feeling that used to settle in his stomach when his grandfather found him sneaking extra sweets from cabinets as a boy.

"What's, uh, what's wrong, Sancho?" he asks. Leon's arms shift where they're folded across his chest. The glare deepens.

"You look tired."

"Well, sure," Luis counters immediately, "I just woke up."

Leon squints at him like he's talking nonsense, "you're in your lab clothes." Which. Fuck. He is still in his lab clothes. Luis looks down at himself and winces; shirt and slacks wrinkled and loose, stains of varying mysterious substances dot the fabric here and there. Certainly not what he should be wearing on a Saturday morning.

When he looks back up he jumps, because Leon is suddenly right in front of him, giving him a searching, albeit still slightly angry, look.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night. Or if you went to bed, for that matter."

"I..." Luis starts, then looks away and drops his voice to barely over a whisper, "I didn't. I got back from the lab just now."

"Luis-"

"I just can't sleep very well when you're gone," Luis cuts him off, biting the inside of his cheek. He's still not very good at admitting to weakness, but Leon deserves to know, "working in the lab helps me keep from going insane worrying about you."

All at once, the tension drops out of Leon's shoulders. He huffs a small, exasperated sigh, then kisses Luis on the forehead and takes his hand.

"Come on," he says, tugging Luis towards the stairs, "We're going to take a shower and then get in bed. We're sleeping all day."

[rainbowsmagicandshit]

Fanfic prompt/idea:

Mordred is Emrys (not really tho)

(Super long. TL;DR at bottom)

Someway, somehow, Arthur and his knights (Leon, Elyan, Percy, Gwaine, mordred) + Merlin meet someone while they’re away from the citadel who tells them about Emrys. Might be someone trying to kill them and boasting about the all mighty Emrys or might be a friendly, peaceful magical person who stopped for a chat or something else, choice is yours. Anyway, that night as they eat dinner around the campfire, they start talking about this Emrys. At first they’re like “that’s kooky” and laughing but then Percival speaks up quietly and a bit nervously. He says that while he’s sought sanctuary for the night or a few days in Druid camps before he became a knight, he’s heard about Emrys. Now, everyone is actually interested instead of just laughing it off.

Arthur: tell me more.

Percy: well.. the druids highly respect this man almost as if he’s a deity. I don’t know too much, and it’s been a while. I do remember that everyone knew about him no matter which Druid camp it was, even the children. It seems they tell a lot of stories about him to their young’uns.

Arthur: anything else?

Percy: sorry, sire, that’s all I remember. But if you really want to know more you could try to ask the druids.

They all became quiet and continued to eat, Merlin and Mordred relieved this conversation is over. …Until,

Arthur, remembering Mordred is a Druid: Mordred, you’re a Druid. Do anything about this?

Mordred and Merlin: *sweating bullets just wanting this dangerous topic over with* *glances at each other nervously*

Gwaine: WHA? Mordred, you’re a Druid?! You’ve been hold holdin’ out on us, mate!

Arthur realizes that Mordred’s heritage had not, in fact been a known thing, but they’ve made peace with the druids, it’ll be fine.

Mordred, nervously: oh, um, yes, I am…

The knight all take a few moments to be like “wow… never would’ve guessed” and “aren’t druids normally peaceful people? How you become a knight?”

Arthur, wanting to get things back on track: so, Mordred, do you know anything?

Mordred, nervousness increasing, knowing Merlin doesn’t want Arthur to know who he is, but not wanting to lie to his king, eyes darting between the two and all over the camp: uh…um… I… uh, I..I… I guess, yes. *Merlin’s glare intensifies*

Arthur, not noticing Merlin’s death glare at Mordred: tell me more.

Mordred, trying to figure out what to say to satisfy his king’s curiosity but not incur Emrys’ wrath (Emrys already hates him enough for some reason, he doesn’t want to make it worse): well… um, there’s… well there’s Emrys… and there’s this prophecy involving him. Most druids know of it; it’s centuries old.

Percival: oh, that’s right… Something about a magical king, right?

Mordred: the Once And Future King.

Gwaine: hold on a minute.. that sounds familiar… Ah! That’s right! I heard about it from a storyteller at a tavern once. I thought it was an odd name so it stuck. It’s a love story, right?

Mordred, nervously glancing between Merlin and Arthur (Merlin now looking at Gwaine with exasperation): um… I don’t know if that’s what it is.. but there definitely is a deep bond between Emrys and the Once And Future King.

Arthur: continue.

Mordred, trying to stay focused on Arthur instead of the once again glaring warlock beside him: so the prophecy says that the Once And Future King will unite the land of Albion, return magic to the land, and bring about a golden age of peace and prosperity for all. And Emrys is foretold to help him. * internally: please let be enough to satisfy him🥺😣😖*

Elyan: so the stories are about this king and Emrys is just there to help?

Mordred, sweating: um…

Gwaine: if that’s the case shouldn’t you druids be worshiping the king instead?

Sounds of agreement around the fire.

Leon to Mordred: is there more to us than that?

Mordred, under curious and intense gazes again: uh, yes… Emrys is a very powerful, immoral warlock said to—

“IMMORTAL??!!!” Merlin squawked, surprised.

Mordred, very nervous, whispers: ….um…yes………. *telepathically: did you not know?*

Merlin, telepathically: I am not immoral.

Mordred, telepathically: it’s what the prophecies say

Merlin, telepathically: they’re wrong

Mordred, telepathically: …um,, there’s a lot who say you are.

Merlin, telepathically: No. I’m NOT. I can’t be immortal. That’s ridiculous.

Mordred, telepathically: they say you are. That’s why the call you Emrys.

Merlin and Mordred continue to glare and the knights and Arthur look on wondering when those two got close enough to communicate only looks and without talking. Arthur is not jealous. Not. At. All. That would be ridiculous.(Yes he is, he’s the only one who’s supposed to communicate with Merlin silently. How dare Mordred)

Suddenly Merlin stands up: I’m going to wash the dishes *aggressively goes around the camp and grabs everyone’s dishes, then stomps into the woods to a nearby stream*

Arthur: you were saying Mordred?

Mordred: oh, right! Yes, so Emrys is said to be the most powerful warlock to ever live. He and the Once And Future King are said to be equals and without him the Golden Age can’t happen. While the Once And Future King is the king, Emrys is said to be his advisor and teacher of sorts. He also protects the Once And Future King and supports him any way he can.

The knights and king look thoughtful taking in this information. They ask Mordred more questions, just little stuff and clarifications, and Mordred, relaxing that he’s getting through this without blowing Emrys’ identity let it slip that “the time of the prophecy is upon us” and that Arthur is said to be the Once And Future King. Whoops.

Everyone around the campfire is now totally interested in this and wanting to know if it’s true and Mordred’s like “um… yeah, that’s what everyone is saying…” and REALLY wanting this conversation to be over with before he slips up about Merlin. He’s also really glad Merlin is still washing their dishes far enough away that he can’t hear the conversation.

Of course, just as Gwaine asks “if Arthur’s this Once And Future King, the where’s this Emrys guy?” Merlin returns in time to hear it.

Merlin, glaring at Mordred: what?

Mordred, telepathically: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! 🥺

The group fills Merlin in on what he missed while Mordred continues to apologize endlessly. The knights then go back to asking Mordred about Emrys and he tries to navigate the questions without giving anything away while also dealing with a furious Merlin in his head telling him to “FIX THIS NOW!! And don’t you tell Arthur who I am!!” The poor boy!

Mordred continues to navigate the conversation mostly emphasizing how loyal Emrys is and how he and the Once And Future King are said to have a strong bond and there’s nothing to worry about when they start to question if Emrys is a threat. Eventually someone (probably Gwaine) brings up that Emrys doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of protecting Arthur considering how other he’s encountered by magical thing. And Mordred, who knows how busy Merlin is and how hard he’s been working to protect Arthur (and that’s just since he’s become a knight! He knows there’s so much more he doesn’t know and is in even more awe of Emrys for handling it all) sees Merlin look over at Gwaine like he’s actually concerning strangling the man, says, “he’s very busy! And, he’s just one man! He’s really trying his best!!”

Mordred doesn’t realize what he said wrong and why everyone is quietly looking at him like that until Arthur asks, “You know him?”

Mordred, who just realized that he did kinda just admit to knowing a very powerful, immoral warlock to a king and his knights that are of a kingdom where magic is punishable by death: ……………uh

Arthur, realizing why Mordred looks so terrified: Mordred I understand you are a Druid and have grown up on stories of this man. I will not punish you for knowing him. I’m sure you’ve met many sorcerers.

Mordred, letting out a big breath of relief: thank you, sire. And yes, I have met him.

Arthur, nodding: I see. And he is in Camelot?

Mordred: yes, sire. He’s been working very hard to keep you and Camelot safe.

Arthur, looking at his other knights: I’ve never heard of anyone in the kingdom by that name, any of you?

Leon: he’s likely using a fake name.

Arthur: hmm. Yes that makes sense.

Mordred, wondering if he messed up again: uh, sire? Is something wrong?

Arthur, looking back at Mordred, and trying to reassure him: I wouldn’t really say something is wrong, per say, but the fact that there is an unknown and powerful sorcerer hiding in Camelot is something I need to be aware of. Since you’ve met him, do you know who he’s hiding out as?

Mordred, glancing subtly at Merlin who’s glaring at him threatening again, realizing he really f’ed up: ……

Arthur, realizing Mordred does know who Emrys is: who is he, Mordred?

Mordred: ……

Arthur, starting to lose his patience: Mordred. Who is he? Or does your loyalty lie with him first and me, your king, second?

Mordred, startled: No! That’s not it at all, sire! I’m very loyal to you! I swear it!

Arthur: then…

Mordred, sheepishly: well… in the prophecy you two are equals, so I’ve always weighed your words and orders as equal as well. And Emrys asked me not to reveal him, so…

Arthur: ……

The knights: ……

Merlin, telepathically: you’re not done yet, keep going. The prat’s not going to leave it at that.

Arthur, trying to figure out how to word it: Mordred… you do realize that that is…. worse, right?

Mordred: ????

Arthur: there is someone who one of my knights has valued their words as equal to my own who I have never met and know next to nothing about and who is a sorcerer. I have not appointed this man and if he were to contradict one of my orders… Do see how I really need to know who this man is?

Mordred: …but he’s loyal to you…🥺

Arthur, wondering if he’s actually going to have to turn this into an official interrogation: Mordred.

Tension rises again as Arthur keeps pushing and Merlin starts yelling in his head again and Mordred just Doesn’t Know What To Do. Please make this stop! Until he can’t take it anymore and just blurts out, “I’M EMRYS!!”

Silence.

Mordred can’t believe he just said that. Did he actually just claim to be THE Emrys? It feels sacrilegious. He peeks over at Merlin, but the man seems just as shocked as the rest of them at this development and raises an eyebrow in question.

Mordred, telepathically: …sorry? I didn’t know what to say…

Merlin, telepathically: ..no, im not mad at that. I am a bit curious about where you’ll go with this though…

Arthur: you’re Emrys?

Mordred, with Merlin’s permission to continue: yes. I’m Emrys.

Gwaine, whistles: damn mate, you’ve really been holding out on us!

Everyone looks at Mordred in a new light, trying to reconcile what they already knew about him with this new information.

Arthur: so you have magic then?

Mordred, nervously: yes.

More silence.

Gwaine, very interested and not at all wary: lots of it too being the most powerful and thought of as a deity.

Mordred, who is quite powerful, but not on Emrys’ level, obviously: yeah, I suppose.

After a bit more of an awkward and tense conversation of stilted sentences, and some debate about magic, Mordred and Merlin finally relax at the fact they’re both keeping their heads and the true identity of Emrys is secret. It was pretty much decided that Mordred had already sworn fealty to Arthur when he became a knight and even saved the king’s life in the Northern Plains, so he was most likely still trustworthy even though he was a sorcerer. Arthur and the knights are surprisingly okay with this turn of events; they’re still tense, but no one’s drawn their sword. Gwaine even asks Mordred to do some magic, and with Arthur’s very tense go ahead, Mordred levitates a water skin for a bit much to Gwaine’s delight. Gwaine keeps asking Mordred to do more magic as they head back to the castle like make things float and light some campfires.

I was thinking that it will mostly be about the antics from this point and how it would change things for the better. Like, now Merlin needs to enlist Mordred in his secret magical adventures and work together to keep Arthur and Camelot safe. The two would make such a funny dynamic. Merlin being all huffy and suspicious but begrudgingly including him while Mordred is so happy at being able to help his idol out, a dream come true for him.

The group ABSOLUTELY keeps Mordred’s magic and him being Emrys thing a secret at first, not sure when that’ll change but it definitely will. Gwaine probably spills about the prophecy and Arthur being the once and future king while he’s drunk in the tavern one night, but not about Mordred. The group eventually start warming up about magic and not being so wary of sorcerers since they’re now seeing Mordred using it to protect them so much. When the knights ask about what he’s done so far he tells them about Merlin’s achievements (with his permission, of course) and gets some more stories from him.

When the actual reveal comes it will be after word has already spread that Mordred is Emrys, so then Arthur and everyone will have to be like “no, that was a lie/misunderstanding, it’s actually Merlin” but people will still mistake Mordred for Emrys even years in the future. They’re never living this down.

Also there is DEFINITELY at least one scene where they go to a Druid camp and Arthur’s all like “yep, this is Mordred. Emrys” and the druids, telepathically, are like “boy, what are you doing? Mordred, you know you’re not Emrys.” And Mordred’s like “I have permission…” so the Druids subtly look at Merlin and he’s like “yeah, he’s got permission, just go with it” So, they do.

There’s also going to be scenes where Arthur is trying to get to know Mordred better because they apparently are supposed to have a super strong bond or whatever and yes, he and Mordred do have a bond, but he wouldn’t say it was any different than his bonds with his other knights and is all confused by it. And when he’s confiding in Merlin about it, he advises to not try and force it.

I know this is season 5 and Arthur and Gwen are married, BUT if you decide to go the merthur route, there can even be some prophecies about Emrys and the once and future king being soulmates and destined to be together or something. That would make Arthur even more confused/troubled because while Mordred is only a little over a decade younger than him (I headcanon that Arthur was 20-21 in 1st season and Mordred ~7-10) and age gaps that big weren’t unheard of, he just can’t look at Mordred that way. He’s too much like an innocent little puppy or something. Merlin is probably mortified because he can’t believe they have prophecies about his love life and why was he only finding out about this NOW?

Also, LANCELOT!!! Maybe there’s some way to actually bring him back from the dead. Or, there could be some scenes of him in Avalon watching this comedy unfold and talking and laughing about it with Will and Fraya and whoever else has died. And they’re all shaking their heads at the crazy situations Merlin gets himself into.

TL;DR: It’s basically crack about Merlin and Mordred working together to pass Mordred off as Emrys with a side of fix-it.

In the future I might decide to write this myself, but I’m in the middle of reading TGCF and want to finish that and a couple other things before I rewatch Merlin. It’s been a couple years since my last rewatch so things are a little fuzzy and I don’t want to completely mischaracterize someone. So, here, take it. Do with this what you want, but let me know if you write this or something, cause it would be supper fun to read.

[42spideys]

more m!reader and leon fluff? please?

— catboy - leon s. kennedy

of course!! m.reader x leon is my brand 💪🏾

warnings: m.reader, catboy!leon, leon gives kitty kisses, absolute fluff!!

enjoy ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ !!!

leon finally came home from a mission after months of being away, you were sitting on the couch when you saw him very quickly dash through the door into your shared bedroom. you thought you were seeing shit but when you felt a gust of wind and the smell of his cologne you knew he was actually here, you got up from your comfortable spot on the couch to go into the bedroom. you saw a large clump of blankets on leon’s side of the bed, you tilted your head in confusion and walked over to the jumbled mess of blankets.

you poke once, a small shuffle with a small groan from leon. you poke twice, another groan but still no movement. you let out an exaggerated sigh, “leon, you either come out of the blanket or i rip it off you.” leon let out a small whine, you’ve never heard him whine before. “nyo…it’s-it’s far to embarrassing.”

nyo?

nyo???

did he just say fucking nyo?

you quickly rip the blankets off of leon to be met with the cutest sight in your life, he had cat ears and a tail. his ears went back in embarrassment, he covered his face with his hand and turned away from you. you just stood there, gobsmacked about the sight in front of you. without thinking you placed a gentle hand between his little ears and started petting him, leon stilled in his movement, he felt nice…oh no. did he like being pet!?

“h-hey. keep your hands off the ears mr.” leon said trying to sound tough, but it came out whiney instead. “but they’re so soft leon! and you look adorable as a kitty.” leon let out a pained, exaggerated groan while taking your waist in his arms. his entire face was flushed, his tail was swinging wildly against the bed. you’ve never seen him act like this before usually he’s the one that makes you blush, but now here he is…whining into your chest while his ears went into airplane mode.

“hurry up and lay down with me, i just came back from a mission and didn’t come back to get bullied by a boy who can’t even lift what i can.” he said trying to be big and tough, you just rolled your eyes and hoped into bed with him. he was practically on top of you, instead of kissing you he gave you kitty kisses (small licks) and soft head bumps. he was absolutely smitten by you, he loved your pets on his head, the strokes on his tail, the kisses to his head.

he secretly loved being your kitty, he loved being spoiled like a real cat. he liked being able to lay on your lap like a cat, but most of all he loved you. he loved you for always being there and taking care of him, even if you do bully him sometimes. :((

[damnedbeauty77]

leon kennedy x fem!reader

!MDNI!

cw: smut, p in v, reader a little traumatised, vanilla and protected, swearing. idk how to do this

summary: reader meets leon, her possible future boss, in a bar with jill and chris.

notes: this is my first time writing smut, did proofread and edit before publishing, if u have any ideas for improvement just dm me x

words: 2.1k

i sit at the bar, leaning over to ask the bartender for a pink gin. what can i say, it looks pretty. my friend went home with some girl already, leaving me with myself at 10.30 at night.

it's fine. it's whatever. i could meet someone. i could have fun.

"hi there."

a guys takes the stool next to me.

i smile. he's cute. he has light, silver-y hair, parted to the side in a messy style. very much, my type.

"hi there." i respond lightly. i might be little drunk.

"i'm leon. what's your name?" he asks, putting an elbow on the bar to tap his fingers on his wood. i have to stop myself from giggling.

"y/n... are you going to buy me a drink?" i twirl my my hair lazily and leon almost copies my movements, brushing his hair back with his left hand. i wonder if he has a bald spot.

"of course. what are you having?"

"well, i'm actually looking to try something new. ive been drinking gin since i was 16. what would you recommend?"

"well, for a pretty girl like you, id have to say a cocktail. vodka, maybe... sex on the beach?"

...

"you work in the bsaa? i literally applied there yesterday!" i laugh. "yeah, well, kind of. i work with them in the dso."

my mouth drops a little in shock. "no way, you're leon kennedy? one of the—"

"founders, yes." leon sighs, laughing. "i really didn't expect all of this to come up when i decided to come talk to you."

i stop and blink a little. i forgot what he was really here for, at least for a moment. "well, shit. sorry. i mean like.. we can still go somewhere, if you want." his eyes widen a little. "no, no i'm sorry. i like talking to you. i was going to ask for your number- my friends are still here." he signals to a table in the corner of the bar. a man and a woman laugh together as they drink.

i smile. "oh, i've been keeping you from them."

"not at all, they told me to talk to you - encouraged me."

"well i hope you don't have a bet going, because i was starting to like you."

leon laughs. "really?"

"don't be smug. do you still want my number?" it feels so normal. "yes."

i wrote it out on a napkin and gave it to him.

"can i meet your friends? that guy is pretty hot." i tease him, making him bit his lower lip. a tinge of jealously emanates off of him. "i thought the girl would be more your type." he replies. i nod. "she is."

i follow leon to the table. he introduces me.

"this is y/n." he says to them. "hi. it's nice to meet you." i reply. "that's chris redfield, and that's jill valentine."

"hi." the girl says to me. oh my god, she is actually really gorgeous. "sit with us." she says, opening the seat next to her as leon takes a seat next to chris. i look at chris. he makes eye contact for a second, then looks away as he drinks his beer.

"i love your jacket." i tell jill. she's wearing black leather, i'm assuming faux based on her haircut.

"thank you, i got it from a thrift store, i think..." she replies. knew it. "i love your top. it's really sexy." she says. i look down. i'm wearing a black mesh top with a black bra underneath. "oh shit. i really forget whenever i wear this shirt.. then wonder why everyone is staring at my tits." i take a drink. i notice jill looking at my tits for a second before clearing her throat. "totally. i see the appeal." she says. then she puts a hand to her head in embarrassment. i laugh. "you're very brave."

"chris, y/n said she was applying to the bsaa." leon changes the subject, turning to me. "he works there right now."

i straighten up my posture, "oh well, i hope you forget everything i do tonight and put in a good word for me."

chris nods. "I'll ask about you." he replies. i feel a bit shouldered. is he emotionally unavailable? is that why i'm so attracted to him?

"what do you do, now?" jill asks me. "i was in the airforce, for just about 4 years." i say. "i've been kind of working a bunch of different jobs, i was in the nypd, until last month."

"airforce. you hear that chris?" jill laughs a little, looking at me. "i was in the airforce as well, when i was younger." chris elaborates. "what base were you?"

"active duty. but honestly, they kind of kept me behind the scenes. i can fly a jet, but i guess i'm just better on a computer."

"see, us girls gotta stay together." jill pushes my shoulder. jesus christ, how many drinks has she had?

"yeah, of course. girl." i smile. "what do you guys do?" leon spluffs. "oh, you know. just bsaa stuff. bioterrorism, security..." he trails off. "what are the two a's again?" he asks chris. he laughs a bit, letting out a little sigh.

...

by around 12am, i start to feel exhausted. we've been talking and drinking for hours, and i just want to... i don't know. go home? but i want to stay with them at the same time...

i check my watch. "it's getting pretty late. i think i might go home." i look at chris for a reaction. he does give me a look of respect, i know when to stop.

"no way, you've drank way too much. i'll call you a cab." leon protests.

"no, no, i only live like a mile from here."

"then i'll walk you home." he insists. i smile. "really? you'd do that?" jill and chris talk in the background. leon smiles in return. "yeah. of course."

i nod.

he walks me out the bar, at one point placing a hand on the small of my waist at one point, making me let go of consciousness.

"you know, i'm staying just down that way." he points with two fingers to a lane next to us. "if you want, you can stay at my place for the night."

my face totally flushes. "um, i wouldn't mind that." not the first time ive fucked someone i met the first night after meeting them. leon's nice though. i think he would call me.

"okay.. good." he says. he turns to me for moment, looking into my eyes. then, kisses me softly. i feel blood rush to my brain in satisfaction and arousal.

"thanks for coming to talk to me tonight. i probably would have left if you didn't." i tell him, putting my arms around his neck as he lets go of my ass... when did he managed to slip his hands there??

he leads me down the streets, his hand around my waist as he flirts shamelessly. then as he's about to open the door to go inside, he stops and looks at me.

"this isn't.. going too fast, or anything, right?"

"i'm fine with it as long as you are. we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"no, no- i want to. i want to." he almost whines. his tone makes me smile. "good." i repeat him, kissing him again as he fumbles to get the door open.

he tastes like liquor.

i clear my throat, leaning into him. "can i go freshen up?"

he stammers a bit, face red. "yeah, the bathroom is down the hall to the left." he says. i nod, kissing him again before going. i wash under my eyes a bit for makeup, do my business, wash my hands again, then go back out.

leon is on the couch, tv on. he's put on closer. one of my favourites that i mentioned in the bar!

"oh my god, this movie is so sexy." i say, sitting down next to him. "well, i wanted to see what the fuss was about." he says, leaning back and taking a smoke.

"natalie portman, is the fuss." i say, placing my head next to his shoulder on the couch. "wow. you're right. they are all hot." leon laughs a bit, putting a rough hand on my thigh. he draws circles with his thumb over my skin. i look up at him, biting my lip.

i start unbuckling his jeans quickly, kissing him again, this time it looks sloppier, messier. "fuck, y/n." he groans as i palm him through his black calvin kleins. "these are hot.." i comment. "did you know you'd come home with someone to fuck tonight?" i ask innocently. he denies it. "wanted you as soon as i saw you."

i take off the mesh top jill complimented earlier. leon runs his hands all over my hips, waist and plays with the straps on my bra. i take off his shirt before he can do anything with my bra, then strip down my skirt as he pulls down his trousers. he lies sideways on the couch as i crawl over him, kissing his neck, trying to find the spot that makes him moan the most. "do you.. do you have a condom?" leon breathes out.

"yeah, hold on." i say, turning to the side of the couch with my bag leaning on it, opening it rapidly to take out the condom.

i rip it apart, seeing as he's already hard, i put it over his dick without even thinking. it's pretty big. like 7 inches at least. leon fingers me from underneath me, pushing my thong to the side. i moan and kiss his chest, licking a strip from above his dick to before the little line of blond hair at his bellybutton. he loves that, gripping my hair and pulling it up a little. "should i give you head or something, before?" he asks quietly. i shake my head. "i'll be fine. thank you, though." i smile through kisses down his chest, his fingers brushing over my clit. i line myself up as leon takes out his fingers, sinking down on him as i grab onto him shoulders. he sits up a bit, taking my waist with two hands to guide me back and forth on his dick. i roll my hips, kissing him roughly as i run my hands through his hair, combing it through my fingers. his neighbours had to have been hearing us.

leon rubs my clit with one finger as i start lifting myself up and down on him, legs wrapped around him at this point for the best angle. "please, please say my name." he asks quietly. i smile. "what? i can't hear you, baby." i tease him, kissing his ear. he leans his neck back, kissing my lips. "say my name, y/n." he asks again, a bit more commanding this time. and perfectly, he hits my g-spot with a thrust. "leon.. ughh, leon." i moan softly, and he replies by digging his nails into my back. "can i go on top.." he asks a little shy. i nod, letting him push me into my back, landing my head flawlessly onto a loose pillow. he pushes into me again, going significantly faster as he holds up the back of my knees beside his hips.

i see his eyes close for moment, and i feel his dick twitch a little in me. is he about to cum? i can barely read his face.

"fuck, you feel so fucking good." he says. i lean my head back a little, encouraging him to drive as far into me as possible. "oh my god, leon.." i groan, grabbing onto the sofa, scratching the fabric. i moan loud as i cum.

leon quickly follows with a low guttural groan to pair with his stalled thrusts.

i give him a kiss as he pulls out, almost immediately passing out on the couch. he throws the condom in a trash can, collapsing next to me, still naked.

"that was good. you're really good at that." leon says, wiping his forehead a little. i smile, thanking him. "it wasn't your first time, right?" i joke. he laughs, shrugging. "first time having sex with someone i met the same night. also, first time having sex pretty drunk." he confesses, making me laugh a bit. "my apologies if i have trouble remembering this. if i get the job, i mean."

"fuck, i totally forget that you might be working for me in a week... don't mention it to HR, right?" he slides on his boxers again. "so, you're my dirty secret now?" i ask. "if it helps to think of that way, then absolutely." he puts his shirt back on. "you want something else to wear? can't imagine that's comfortable." he points to my tight lace bra and panties.

"if you got a big shirt, i'll take it. want to finish the movie?"

"sure, but you'll have to catch me up." leon smiles coyly.

[milk-bby]

¬ Sweet Like Honey. (A Leon Kennedy x Reader) [RE2R]

warnings: licking honey off of him, smut, sub!leon, fem!reader, not proof read, might be OOC.

AO3 LINK: ¬ Sweet Like Honey. - Moth_bby23 - Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) [Archive of Our Own]

word count: 1.1k

When you said you wanted to try something, this isn’t what he expected.

He didn’t expect this, you sat on his lap with a bottle of honey in hand. You look down at him innocently before putting some honey on your index finger, smearing it on your bottom lip. 

Leon’s breaths catch in his throat a little as you cradle his jaw in one of your hands, watching you lean in to kiss him. Your lips meet, honey smearing on his lips too. The sweetness makes him moan a little, already feeling the pooling desire in his abdomen. 

Once you pull away slightly, you grin at him a little, looking at his lips and blushing cheeks. You just loved the way his lips stayed slightly parted when you kissed him. The way his eyes stayed half-lidded for a few seconds before looking at him with that adorable puppy look. The way his breaths stuttered a little when your lips touched his. It was all so sweet, sweeter than the honey on your lips. 

“How was that?” you whisper against his lips, still wryly grinning.

Leon stuttered over his words a little, eventually getting out a small and breathy, “y- yeah. That was… good. Felt nice.”

His hands held your hips gently as you straddle his lap, both of you on his bed. You uncap the honey and you pour some of the viscous liquid into your mouth, keeping it there. Slowly, you lean in, kissing him again but slipping your honey-covered tongue into his mouth. He shudders a little, pushing himself into you, tasting the honey in your mouth. He whimpers quietly, gripping your hips a little harder as arousal starts to fog his brain. 

Pulling away again, you pant a little as you feel him harden against you. Your hands trail over his chest, down his abdomen and rest at the hem of his shirt. Without warning, you tug his shirt off, his eyes looking at you in shock. You chuckle softly at his reaction, rolling your hips against him to tease him. He throws his head back, trying to muffle the moans bubbling from his chest. 

“Awh, baby, did that feel good?” you tease, leaning in to whisper in his ear. He shudders under you as you lick a stripe up the shell of his ear. You lean back, keeping your hips flush with his and you grab the honey once again. Slowly, you drizzle it over his chest generously, watching it travel down his torso, all the way to his abs. Leon sits there flustered, unsure of what to do except let out breathy noises of pleasure while holding you in place. 

Leon lets out a breathy, high-pitched moan as you start to lick the honey off of his body. Leon’s breaths are hot and heavy as he feels your warm tongue dance over his skin, slowly licking away the sticky sweetener. As you lick off the honey, your teeth gently grazes his skin occasionally, only adding to his pleasure. When your tongue laps over his nipple he whimpers and whines, squirming and bucking his hips upwards. His hands grip his bedsheets at your relentless kisses, licks and nibbles at his skin. Your lips and tongue travel lower and lower, pushing him onto his back and shuffling down his lap. You lick a stripe along his abs, lapping up the rest of the honey. Leon shivers as the air causes his wet skin to tingle a little. 

You pull away, leaving a small kiss above the waistband of his sweats. Your eyes travel down, noticing his bulge imprinting through the fabric. 

“Oh? Is my honey a bit needy? Hm?” you tease, cupping his bulge. 

Leon whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand, craving the sweet, sweet friction. He stutters out a gasp, biting his lip at the slightest touches. 

“It’s rude to ignore me honey. Don’t you want to feel good?” 

Leon manages to get out a “please please. M- make me feel good. P- please touch me!” as you trail the tip of your index finger over his cock. 

“Good boy, Leon.” 

You pull down his sweatpants to his knees, cupping his shaft again. You notice the dark spot of precum on his grey boxers, and you lift the elastic of the boxers, only to snap it against his skin. He hisses a little but whines afterwards, the anticipation killing him in that moment. You fish his cock out of his boxers, running your thumb on the underside, causing Leon to let out a strained “fuck-” before breaking out into a few gasps. Your thumb brushes against his tip, causing him to buck into your hand.

Saliva runs down from your lips as you spit on the head of his shaft, before rubbing it up and down his cock. Leon squirms and whines at your slow, languid strokes, methodically dragging up and down at a torturous pace. Between the strokes and squeezes on his cock, Leon keeps bucking his hips and whimpering desperately while tightly gripping the pillow behind his head.

You quicken the pace of your hand, noticing how red his tip is getting as you jerk him off, his pre getting smeared down his shaft. Leon can only make incoherent noises under you, only focusing on how good your hand feels, wishing it was your lips, your thighs, your tits or even your sopping wet cunt sucking him in. God, just the thought has him reeling closer to release as he twitches in your palm, your teasing words and praises being drowned out by the white noise in his head, solely focusing on the pleasure. 

“O- oh fuck! I’m close! S’close so so close! P- please!”

He squeezes his eyes shut as his cock twitches in your hand once more, releasing all over your hand, and his stomach. His breathy moans are the only thing heard in the room as he rides out his high, cum pooling over his abdomen. His bliss begins to calm down after a few minutes, finally making eye contact with you with those gorgeous blue eyes of his. When he does, he is greeted with the sight of you licking his cum off of your hand, the salty taste lingering on your tongue as you clean him and yourself up.

His head comes back to reality but is immediately clouded with lust when you straddle his waist, dripping the honey on your bare chest. He can only watch it roll down your breasts, brushing back the hair sticking to his forehead.

“My turn?”

[drysaladandketchup]

5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and drags a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

[thesongistheriver]

So a while back, I got an idea, or there was a prompt, or *something* where I was like, "I'm gonna write a fic where Mithian and Elena and Arthur all kind of grow up together, you know, while their king dads are hanging out doing King Things" and I thought it was going to be this cute friendship ™ thing and now it's, like, they're going to help him figure himself and Merlin out and maybe accept magic and look, folx, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, here have a snippet.

He walked over to them and nodded his head. “Princess Elena, Princess Mithian.” 

They hurried to stifle their giggles and turned. Mithian gave a polite little curtsey, while Elena reached out to slap his arm before apparently remembering herself and turning it into an awkward shimmy. 

Arthur couldn’t fight a grin this time. “Erm, I thought perhaps you might like to see the gardens? It’s a lovely day …” He trailed off when both of their faces fell slightly. “Or, ah. We could visit the shops in the Lower Town?” What the hell do girls like to do? He was going to murder Morgana for leaving him high and dry like this.

Mithian lowered her eyes. “Camelot is quite beautiful. I had rather hoped we might go for a ride in the countryside.”

“I love riding!” Elena crowed. “Just about the only thing I do gracefully,” she added with a roll of her eyes, bumping Mithian with her shoulder.

A wave of relief washed over Arthur. “Fabulous!” he exclaimed, eyes brightening, and added proudly. “You can meet Hengroen. He was a gift for the anniversary of my birth. Just a yearling now, but he’s going to be my destrier when he’s grown and I’m a knight.” 

“Oh, can I ride him?” Eyes wide, Elena clasped her hands together.

“Petal,” Grunhilda admonished, but Elena just waved dismissively.

“You know Father won’t mind me going riding with the prince,” she said, pursing her lips. “You said you had things to do anyway.” Sighing, the older woman nodded and hurried off.

Both girls’ eyes shone with excitement. “Roddy will be so envious,” Mithian said brightly, waving at her brother over her shoulder as he attempted to hide a yawn. “He’d much rather be out with us than listening to the old men talking about treaties and borders.”

Gesturing for them to follow, Arthur led the way out of the council chambers. “At least he gets to compete in the tournament,” he said, hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Wish I could.”

“One day you will,” Elena replied. “And we’ll have to be all boring and wear fancy gowns and sit in the stands.”

Shaking her head so that her dark hair swung over shoulders, Mithian announced, “Not I. I’ll schedule a hunt for myself instead.”

“You hunt?” Arthur asked, incredulous. “Morgana rides, but I can’t envision her with a crossbow to save my life.”

“Arthur, I love hunting,” Mithian said with a smile. 

Elena shrugged. “I’m a terrible shot, but give me a horse and I can rival the wind. Father says my mother was an excellent horsewoman. Suppose I get it from her.”

They chattered eagerly all the way to the stables, and Arthur thought for the first time that perhaps this week might not be all bad.