#ft. leon

[cybermuses]

status: closed location: @hecticlife place

as salem approached leon's apartment food in hand she wondered why she was feeling butterflies in her stomach. things had been rocky between the two of them for a while now and it seemed like every encounter they had since salem's arrival in valpo resulted in some sort of conflict. the least she could do was try to smooth things over and apologize. she knocked on the door three times before he answered and realized it probably would have been smart ahead of time to let him know she was coming over but out of habit she figured it would be fine. a smile came across her face as he opened the door. "i bought a peace offering, pastel de choclo to be exact." salem knew it was his favorite dish. "please tell me you haven't eaten already?"

[elifalvey]

LOCATION: The Jagged Yard.

WHEN: Late night, approximately a week after the Spring Extravaganza.

WHO: Elijah & Leon ( @leonwozniak ).

Now that they were a more consistent part of each other’s lives, it wasn’t unoften that Elijah glanced down at his phone to find a new message from Leon staring back at him. Usually sometime in the afternoon, shortly after Lucky Joe’s closed its doors, and usually in the form of a voice note — on account of it being easier to air his grievances of the day with his words instead of typing everything out, or something like that. Eli never minded them. He found entertainment in them, actually; it was amusing to hear about how some delinquent teenager who didn’t know whether he wanted plain or veggie cream cheese on his bagel pissed Le off so badly that he needed to take five, or the interesting stories of frequent customers that always seemed to come in with a new installment of gossip to share. On most days he’d offer a quip or two back — because there was only so much he could say after approximately five minutes and thirty-seven seconds of not just any rambling, but Leon rambling, which was an entirely different beast — and it’d start a friendly conversation, rinse and repeat. After the kayak race, however . . . when the voice note entailed too many vivid descriptions of an ‘outrageous French woman shitting on their coffee — and fuck’s sake everyone knows Lucky Joe’s isn’t around for the coffee’ . . . well, Elijah couldn’t think of much to say. Not a single thing, really. Once the note was over, and the only thing that was running through his mind was Kaya, he simply put his phone down instead of responding with anything at all. Which was unusual, sure, but what else was he supposed to do? Laugh, as if he had the capacity to find it funny? No, no, he couldn’t do that. The problem came about when putting his phone down for a little while led to days without conjuring up any sort of reply. There’d been notes that came after that he couldn’t even bring himself to open, much less listen to. And he knew, deep down, ignoring one of his closest friends was shitty, but that didn’t necessarily stop him. Everyone thought he was chock-full of shitty decisions, anyway, what was one more? It wasn’t until he peered up through his lashes as he was tucked away in a booth at the Jagged Yard to find the very man he’d been unintentionally-intentionally avoiding standing right in front of him that the weight of his guilt started to hit him. He didn’t offer a hello, nor did he offer an apology. Rather, he quietly admitted, “I meant to text you back.”

[jawbrkrs]

" I told you not to fall in love with me. " devil-may-care glint sparked in her eyes, knowing she'd always have him hooked. despite the control she thought she possessed he'd always have an iron grip around her whether she loved it or not. it was a dangerous game they played, a dance on the edge of a precipice, so masterfully executed with deceit and finesse, that their love story was always the talk of every gossip post and t.witter trend. this time, she was captured in a photograph with another man, a stranger to him — just another pawn maneuvered on their chessboard to keep him reeled in. " you jealous? " words dripped for cherry glossed lips, laced with a playfullness that only he had the pleasure of hearing. | @intcxications

[vuotriste]

@tragiclike !

the city lights are nothing but a distant glow from where she stands. perched upon the highest floor on a building that towered even above the clouds, it is hard to see what lays beneath her feet. joi has flown so high for so long, she doesn't think that she would ever want to come back down anyway.

her eyes follow the long line of cars that weave up and down through the clouds, each of them meandering closer and closer to her own building. she wonders which one leon is in, if he's here, if he's thought about her since they're last meeting. how uncharacteristic. you can live a thousand lives and still somehow be caught up on one.

she shifts on her feet when her doors open - expectant. it is a let down when the first face she sees is her assistants, though a smile is closeby when she sees the towering figure that is walking in behind her.

" leon, " she greets, perking up significantly. " where have you been ? " i missed you. " don't tell me the androids downstairs got to you, too. "

[cybermuses]

@hecticlife

Cousin Cousine, 1975

[vaaaaaiolet]

When you run out of his work summit on the brink of tears, you can't believe that Leon hasn't picked up on how he hurt you. His only option is to apologize, but you're not listening to a word he says. So he'll just have to make you watch.

mdni i'm so serious. married f / m smut where porn is the plot THERE'S LORE I SWEAR, sour then sweet dom leon, mirror sex, EMOTIONS, aftercare :3 + 1 bad pun

a/n: anon req'd reader w/ praise kink. i really thought i did something and then i read it and i wanted to die. it isn't my writing if i don't try turning smut into shitty poetry.

word count: 2.9k // read on ao3

“I’m apologizing now, aren’t I?”

“A little late for that, Agent Kennedy,” you seethe. 

Your metronome heels keep time with the irate pounding of your heartbeat. This California Ritz-Carlton hallway stretches like the goddamn Shining and you can’t seem to get away fast enough from your husband. He’s too damn good at his job, and you’re too smart to pretend that this dance the two of you are playing at is anything but a distraction, an impediment.

You are a distraction. You’ve been an unwelcome one all night.

So you’d cut it short yourself.

One keycard slice through the sensor and the sanctuary of your hotel room opens up to you, messy with the aftermath of black-tie preparation. You step up to the vanity; plant your palms on its wooden surface and stare straight ahead as if to admire your ruined mascara. It’s a formality, really. It’s not as if you need the mirror to remind you what happened in this room. Tonight began with indulgent kisses afraid to smudge dress shirt collars, hands squeezed for courage, Leon in perpetual pursuit of the train of your gown. Big dreams.

“You wanna talk? We can talk.” Leon shuts the door with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t make this difficult, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing,” you hiss. You stare daggers at his reflection.

“Really?” His shoulders drop. “Then what was all that with the storming off, the- oh baby, don’t look at me like that.” 

Leon’s arms wrap around your middle while his nose buries itself in your diamond-laced neck. He’s good at that, that sneaking thing without leaving so much as a whisper to signal where he’s going. The higher-ups at the DSO call it stealth. You just want the man you married to tell you what the hell he’s doing before he makes a fool out of you. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I swear,” he whispers, kissing softly down your neck. “Didn’t mean it at all, I’m sorry. What’d I do?”

You scoff. 

He’s testing the waters. A rough thumb finds and starts running down the divot of your spine, thank you backless Mirror Palais ballgown. Pass the smoking gun back and forth, pretend not to see the shrapnel from the bullet holes. You don’t pay Leon any heed as you stoically unhook diamond pendants from your ears, and he frowns.

“I said I was sorry.” 

“I shouldn’t need to tell you what you did, Leon.” 

Shame simmers sickly and strong in the pit of your stomach. You teeter on the edge of snapping altogether and consider throwing his blankets on the floor for the night – you will, actually, as soon you take off all your evening regalia. In your haste, your nails end up nicking Leon’s nose when he tries to murmur another weightless apology.

The kisses stop leaching onto your collarbone. “Don’t play this game with me, sweetheart.” 

“So now you’re calling me immature?”   

“Isn’t that what you call running out of my work summit? Making me chase you down?” Leon counters, running his hands down your sides in a last-ditch effort to diffuse the situation. Thinly-veiled irritation finally seeps into his tone. “What exactly did I do?”

And gosh, does that get the tears going. He’s so blind it hurts.

You tug pins furiously out of your hair in an effort to keep an impending outburst at bay. “You practically had me on a leash!”

Not once had he let you out of his sight in that dreadful ballroom. In front of all those international representatives and agents, people whose reputations preceded them, Leon had kept you attached to him with a heavy hand on your waist, glued to his hip like an untrustworthy child he’d lose track of at a supermarket. Coughs had quickly turned to snickers behind your back. You’re no agent, sure, but you could expect to have some kind of autonomy, right? 

The guest badge you’d flung over the hotel room bed glints tauntingly now, respected by every security detail except the one whose chest your back is currently pressed against. It’s humiliating how untrustworthy, how incapable he made you look tonight.

Leon blinks. “You’re saying I think you can’t handle yourself?”

“You don’t have to. You showed me all night.” 

Tears drip down your cheeks when he relents, his arms lifting like fog over the Golden Gate, and if you’re finally free from his clutches, you might as well take off this suffocating dress. It’s gauzy and gorgeous and completely worthless despite the stack of bills Leon paid for it, however giddy you’d been when he’d brought it home. 

If only you could reach the tiny zipper perched on your tailbone. 

Leon, ever the perceptive one, however, never passes up an opening whether it be zipped or not. He’s got a handy index and thumb; he puts them to use. He’s your husband after all. 

“Right, okay,” he exhales sharply, tugging the chain as your back bows forward, “I did this all wrong. I thought you’d catch on when I should’ve just shown you instead.”

“Show me what?”

A hand inside your newly agape gown. A palm pivoting south to the curve of your hip, pressing, searching. Leon presses his lips to your neck in answer, but this time, it’s urgent in a way that doesn’t quite feel like remorse. He hisses.

“Tell me to stop and I fucking will, but this is my last resort considering how bad I seem to be with my words, sweetheart. How many times have I told you I’m sorry?”

“You-”

A squeeze on your hip. A direction. 

“I need a number.”

The door, your neck, seconds ago.

“...three.”

“And not one of them made it inside that pretty head of yours,” Leon scowls. “Doesn’t look like words are either of our strong suits. Chin up for me, doll, and pay attention ‘cause I’m only asking this once.”

So you do, you lift your face to meet mascara-rimmed eyes in the mirror along with Leon’s sapphire-blue ones that glint right behind, and his palm drifts up to cup your jaw from underneath. He tilts it back and forth. Kisses his teeth. 

“Tell me. How am I supposed to let my wife loose in a room full of criminals just like that?”

What?

Leon circles your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, pulling away quickly. Too early to indulge in this kind of affection. “Thought I asked you something, doll.”

But you hesitate, and so Leon must disappear. His final instructions are to face forward.

He dives to the floor, locking rough fingers around your ankles only to slide them up to the backs of your shins. He goes under so quick that there’s a breeze; you’re granted mere seconds to watch Leon’s blond head duck underneath the floor-length train of your dress and by then, it’s far too late to notice the fire. 

Leon loves starting those.

He also doesn’t wait. Invisible flames lick up your bare legs from Leon’s dragon mouth. Red hot kisses trail up your thighs – he drops a sweet one on the inside of your right knee, makes you buckle momentarily – and these stubbled kisses of his have a tendency to sear any skin on their skyward path. You can’t remember when your elbows propped themselves on the vanity, out of instinct, maybe, to keep the floor of your stomach from falling out at the very first sneak of Leon’s tongue inside the drenched lace gusset of your panties. 

But you can’t afford to be surprised, can you? Not with the line of destruction he’s left behind on his way to his destination. They say it takes one to know one. 

You clutch the edge of the vanity’s shelf, suck down sobs in your throat fluttering into something indecent.

“I need you to talk to me,” he whispers with his lips pressed to your pussy. The vibration echoes up your spine, jerks your head back. “You’re all clammed up. Keeping secrets.”

Air gushes down your throat. “And you’re not?” 

“Of course I am, baby, but I’m explaining, aren’t I?” 

Kiss. Kiss. Suck. 

You keen with your mouth shut.

He noses at your clit, prompting you. “So, where’s your explanation?”

Another quality the DSO prides itself on is your husband’s ability to sweet-talk himself out of a tight spot. That seems to includes in between your legs. Your thighs clench together in a final attempt of defiance when his mouth makes contact with your cunt. Your reflection in the mirror starts to swim at the first swirl of Leon’s tongue, and he makes quick work of you with his goal being none other than to dangle the promise of more to come, literally. 

Thumbs tuck into sensitive folds, and you’re gone. Shaking at the first breach of Leon’s fingers inside you. You spread apart at his will. He dips into arousal now impossible to ignore, and when sparks finally light at the hot air Leon blows over your spasming pussy, he commits his second unforgivable sin of the night: ducking right back out at the crest of your orgasm.

You have principles. The mirror reflects Leon’s swollen lips, tousled hair damp with you when he rises from his knees, and above all this, you clench your teeth. Face forward. 

He wipes his mouth.

“That’s one.” 

The other two remain rhetorical.

You’re being lifted bridal-style when the seal on your mouth finally breaks. “Leon,” you tremble in his arms, “where are we?” The summit, the people; you chase his mouth for any explanation. “You’re working with criminals now?” 

“Yes and no. Arms up,” Leon rasps, and tugs down what remains of your gown, crashes his mouth onto yours. 

You taste yourself in his kiss. Surely that’s not an answer, is it?

“Tonight was a mission,” he continues in his feverish haste, quickly laying your naked body onto the bed before kissing down your breasts.

Pride gets tossed on the floor next to your undergarments, his crumpled dress shirt. 

“The DSO couldn’t guarantee you wouldn’t become collateral for this assignment if things went south and I didn’t want to risk it. So I took you with me.” 

“You brought me to a- oh! ” 

Two thick fingers push into your sopping cunt. You squeal, clutch the sheets. Leon presses the ribbed flesh nestled deep inside you, carving out room for himself from his kneel at the foot of the bed. He gouges deep and you writhe. Your arousal shimmers on his fingers when he finally pulls them out and you find that have nothing to say about that.

“Go on,” he coos lowly. “Don’t get quiet now.” 

Your head whirls. “You sh-should’ve told me they were dangerous.”  

“And where do you think that would’ve gotten us, sweetheart? I didn’t want you panicking. Blowing cover. I had you to take care of and intel to gather, I couldn’t think straight myself. Letting you out of my sight could’ve meant losing you.”

Fuck. You don’t need a mirror to remember how antsy Leon had been before going down to the ballroom. 

Hands squeezed for courage. Hand on your waist. 

The vanilla and leather on his skin had reeked of nerves, and you? You’d written it off.

“I wanted to keep you safe.” Leon looks up at you now, eyes glinting in the dim light. There’s a new softness in their blue depths, a sincere apology. “I just wish you'd believe me.” 

By all intents and purposes, Leon Scott Kennedy is sorry.

There’s been a lapse in judgment. Your elbows sit you up from the bed to fix it. Cupping his cheek, you lean forward to meet Leon’s waiting mouth in a long overdue embrace, one he can melt into with relief. There’s no bitterness on your tongue now. Just sweetness in the seconds you take to breathe your forgiveness into him. The clink of his falling belt promises no punishment.

“But you can’t let me off the hook just yet,” Leon murmurs when he tugs free from your latch on his bottom lip, “I hurt you, angel, and I never wanted to. Tell me I can fix it.”

He can. Your husband can fix everything, the world included. You sigh your approval, yes, yes, more, because forgiveness feels incredible as he lays your shoulders down, sets your hips straight when you twist them the first time he teases his cock’s weeping head over the soaked seam of your pussy. 

“Don’t take your eyes off the mirror for a second,” Leon instructs.

He plants his palms on the sides of your head. You whimper; swear you won’t.

“I mean it. Watch yourself, and maybe then you’ll understand how crazy you drive me.”

So begins your descent. 

You’re drowning, crying for air when Leon sinks into the liquid warmth you’ve saved for him. There’s so much of him to take, tight, tight, tight – your mind is a melting record. You’re breaking. Can’t disappoint him again. When your overwhelmed cunt nearly pushes him out, Leon just chuckles. He cants his hips to compensate, goes at it again. That should be enough to tell you how the DSO’s finest agent never lets a detail go amiss. 

“The Belgium ambassador started tailing you by the fountain." 

And to your astonishment, he starts rattling off half the world map. 

“Got rid of him quick. Then there was a – oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me – Swedish agent, don’t remember what I did to him.” 

A roll of his hips. Your nails down his back. 

“Someone from Germany tried to dose your champagne. Another from Argentina, shit,” his thrusts grow erratic the longer the list grows, “two from Russia, a Japanese spy – perfect fucking pussy, oh my God…”

Your husband takes you on a trip around the globe. He’d traveled to the ends of the earth in that ballroom, kept your back bulletproof with just his hand, the one that was once a collar to you. Turns out being a Kennedy puts you on a hitlist; makes your blood run blue. 

“Too much!” you sob.

You can’t take the responsibility. 

But here in the dark, here with Leon, there’s just pleasure. Opulence. The back of his head is a blond crown in the vanity mirror, the diamonds on your breasts sparkle with each bounce from Leon’s cock slamming home. Even the gooey mess you’re leaving on the chiseled marble of his lower stomach shimmers. War paint from a battle won for you.

Your head falls away from the mirror and Leon guides it back without losing his rhythm. “Mm-mm. You need to see your face when you break.” 

Never has a threat sounded so loving on anyone’s lips, you imagine. 

Your hands tangle into his hair, you grow quiet, you clench. You’re close. This, he can feel.

His lips curve into a weary grin. “Wanted you to see why I had eyes on my baby all night. My pretty girl, all mine.”

Lucky you. 

That somehow does you in. Every word of praise Leon utters makes it clear that no, he did trust you, does trust you. He trusted you enough to know you could hold your own in that lion’s den downstairs, trusts now that you’ll forgive him for a misstep born of love. And with that realization, your pleasure rides helium high. 

“Shit, Leon!” you cry.

Electric pressure builds in your sensitive bud, the one Leon rubs frantically now. Gasps from your wide open mouth sweeten the air like perfume and Leon wishes he could breathe it all in, you’re beautiful when he turns you into a wailing mess. All for him.  

“This one’s two, angel,” he groans when you flutter around him. No way. 

His cock had put you in a trance, so warm and filling is it inside you. You’d forgotten about the deal entirely. 

Your cries increase precariously in pitch. “Oh, please, please, you can’t, Leon, I have to-” 

“Hold on!” 

Leon presses you into the sheets one last time to free the pretty songbird singing his name. You sprout wings in the looking glass.

The afterglow is golden. The sunset is long gone but it glows in your hotel room all the same, wrapped in silk sheets and Leon’s arms.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know?” he hums, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“What, all sweaty and gross?” You wouldn’t expect him to know. He’s gorgeous. Leon is gorgeous when he makes love to you.

He nods, laughing when you roll your eyes. “Really, you do. Enough that I had to spend half my mission clawing bad guys off you. But I got it finished, and so did you in the process, huh?” 

Leon drops a kiss to your forehead, murmuring one last I’m sorry, his fourth one.

Shit. 

You scramble to hide under the sheets, leaving him cocking his head after you in utter confusion. “Wait, wait, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t do any more, Leon, I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Do any…?”

“You only left off on two!” 

Leon snorts. You soon feel a warm press on the top of your head: a sugary, schoolboy-sweet kiss.

“There you go, baby. That’s three. Apology accepted?”

And when you poke your head out of the covers to give Leon a kiss of your own, you make sure he knows it’s for apology number four.

He shouldn’t be so surprised you noticed. It’s not like you can take your eyes off him either.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[dollsizes]

innocent affections, ft. the resident evil men⎯⎯⎯⎯leon kennedy, chris redfield, carlos oliveira, ethan winters.

leon kennedy thinks everything you do is endearing. you’re a sense of security he doesn’t think he’s ever had—the only flower that doesn’t wilt at his touch. standoffish as he may seem; leon cares. empathy runs through him rampantly, even if he hides it better as the years go by. to be so intensely affected by all the tragedy around him, also gives him the ability to love you completely. so, if you asked him about the habits you can’t seem to drop and tell him to pinpoint a favourite, he might just blank for a second. don’t take it the wrong way.

chris redfield is a whirlwind of emotions. vocal as he may be, he still finds it difficult to express to you just how much you mean to him. perhaps seeing the sky fall down on the front lines does that to a person—scares him from speaking you into the world; afraid to materialise the you he’s dreamt up in fear that you too will be taken from him. yet when you hold him, he’s the one that feels solidified. to be in your arms is to live there forever in just a few moments. chris redfield isn’t one for sentiment, but he swears he can still feel your fingers in his hair a thousand miles from you.

carlos oliveira, charged and filled with passion. carlos loves you like it’s the end of the world, which ironically for us, it just might be. he embodies ‘puppy love’—dotes on you every chance he gets. he takes comfort in the soft teasing and the gentler nights. his heart dies as he picks you up and spins you around the room, swallowing your laughter like he survives on it. carlos isn’t a religious man by any means, but how could you deny a god in the presence of an angel.

ethan winters. ethan is there for you for the long run—takes a glance at you and leaves everything else up to fate. (it should be noted that in this particular context, ‘fate’ includes excessive internet stalking and cheesy forum pickup lines.) so when he’s got you, ethan loves you like a meadow river. he walks by you to the end of the stream—dangles his feet over the cliff as he watches you fall and engulf the world in your element. even on the stormy days, who can deny the beauty of the sea?

© pncessa ﹒ tumblr

[mayanoelle]

Maya smiled warmly at his reaction, appreciating that he’d given her food a chance and didn’t outright shun it for simply being new. She’d definitely had worse interactions with Caffélicious patrons before. “I’m glad you enjoyed it!” she said. “Here’s a coupon for 20% off your next order at Latte Love, you know, if you visit again.” She followed his gesture and her eyes landed on the coffee shop across the street, catching his teasing smile. “A little friendly competition keeps us all on our toes, right?” she said with a light laugh. “I know it keeps me sharp at least.” Maya glanced back at the man, and nodded. “I definitely hope you’ll come back and try more of our offerings. We’re always experimenting with new recipes and I love getting feedback. Even if you don’t come inside.”

leon had never been a big fan of pastries; he did admire the work, though, because that was a talent he had always outsourced in his line of work. it took time, and dedication. his bread guy always work up at 4 am to make the best brioche, and that had always stuck with him.

leon wasn't much immune to service people's charms, and he found himself nodding alongside the young woman describing the experience and the food. she'd never know it, but he did relate to what she was saying. "hmm," was his first reaction to the scone, then some more nodding. "those are very good, i'll give you that. very though competition they have." leon pointed to the coffee shop in front with a teasing smile.

[elifalvey]

LOCATION: Starview Drive In.

WHEN: Friday, April 5th. Pre-moving showing.

WHO: Elijah & Leon ( @leonwozniak ).

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re actually going to sit and watch Migration,” Elijah shouted across the short distance the two men stood from one another, each behind their respective cornhole boards. He’d decided to come to the drive in theater a little earlier than his family, with the promise of live music, a barbeque and Leon’s presence. The party game was a bonus, not that he was proving himself to be very good at it; two other red-colored beanbags splayed along the ground after having missed the hole entirely, and the third was being juggled delicately in his hand like he was gearing up to throw. He tossed it and it missed, too, hitting his friend’s ankles rather than anywhere it was supposed to. God damn depth perception . . . “I think a bit of the respect that I had for you just shriveled up and died, man. Ghostbusters is right there.” His hands found his hips as he waited for Leon to complete his throws of the blue ones, gently rocking from side to side in anticipation.

[residentfurry]

yes...serrenedy date...

[cybermuses]

"yeah, you are an asshole actually." salem replied, only half serious. she looked down at their hands as he grabbed hers and listened to him speak. his reasoning made sense, sort of...but she knew how bad his mental health could get and had seem him through bad times in the past. she couldn't really understand why this time would be any different. "well you hurt me anyways so..." her voice trailing off for a moment before continuing. "we've been through so much. i know you believe that you were sparing me a lot of pain by ending things but you did the opposite. i felt like shit about myself when you left me and i was in a really horrible place. i guess i just figured after everything we'd been through we truly could get through anything. i would have seen it through with everything you dealt with but you really didn't give us a chance to at least try." she started getting emotional as she spoke, there was so much hurt coming to the surface from the past couple of months. could she really just forget about all of that and move forward with him? salem was a little surprised when he said he hadn't slept with anyone else while they were apart --unfortunately she couldn't say the same but that was another conversation for another time. "i believe you when you say that." her eyes met his when he cupped her face in his hands. leon looked so defeated from it all it broke her heart. if anything she was more upset that he didn't let her be there for him. "that wasn't your decision to make for me though. i get you didn't want me to feel trapped or whatever but it wasn't fair of you to decide that for me. i would have stuck around, we could have worked it out somehow." letting out a sigh she pulled back as his thumbs grazed her cheek. she missed him terribly and felt way too vulnerable in this moment to his affection. "I love you and i'm sorry you were having such a hard time, i really am but...." her nerves starting to get the best of her. "i'm just tired of breaking up and i really need to think about things. we're gonna go through plenty other hard times and we'll be apart for long periods of time with the both of us being musicians and i wanna feel secure with you but i don't right now."

leon nods his head, everything she's saying is totally valid right now. "yeah, i'm an asshole," he sighs with the littlest nervous grin. the only thing keeping him together right now is knowing that he really did have the best intentions and it was all a miscommunication problem. "listen, sal," the blond runs a hand through his hair before getting a hold of her own hands. they're cold and he hates it, it hurts. "what i meant was that i didn't trust myself, or my mental health, not to hurt you, you know? exhibit a," he shrugs his shoulders, hoping she would understand. "imagine how shitty i would've made you feel if we kept in touch while i was dealing with all of that. i didn't trust myself enough to be an adult and not lash out at you if i was feeling particularly stressed or depressed one day. i never, ever," he emphasizes the word and holds her hand tightly so she can feel how sorry he is, "meant to hurt you. i never meant to make you feel like i wanted to, i don't know, fuck someone else because my dick thinks on its own. i didn't, alright? i didn't fuck anyone else. i need you to believe me, sal. please." leon makes a bold decision and runs his hand up to cup her face. "and i honestly didn't think she would've died so soon. i've heard stories about people with alzheimer that live on for more than five, ten years. and i didn't want you to feel trapped in that. you don't deserve that." his voice shakes, he needs her to know where he's coming from and how sorry he is. "i really do apologize. it's no excuse but i guess the fear of you leaving me because i turned into such a stranger, a cruel one, would be too much. maybe it's one of those rip-the-bandaid things before you'd do it for me. i guess i would've rather hurt you first so you didn't have to put with my shit. i know it's not... it's not fair and it maybe doesn't make much sense to you right now, but sal," he looks into her eyes and grazes the pad of his thumbs along her cheekbones. so fucking pretty. "i swear you would've hated my guts. i wasn't my best self. i'm only my best self, or i try to be, when i'm with you." leon falls silent for a few seconds. "i'm sorry i didn't trust myself enough to do it alone. i love you. i understand if you don't wanna see me again. i just needed you to know everything"

[papaleon]

I'm Still Full of the Love You Want

pairing: RE4R!Leon Kennedy x afab!Reader

wc: 2.4k

summary: Leon has come back from Spain and, on the advice of his therapist, he's learning to associate the bad memories with something good. That something happens to be you.

content: leon gets cuffed, p in v, oral (reader receiving), no protection (wrap it up guys), i just replayed resi4r and i can't get over leon being chained to the ceiling (inspo), leon is a good boy

18+ MDNI, this is literally just pwp

a/n: please be gentle, i haven't written fic in years, this post has a lot of my writing firsts including the perspective and the smut. it has been sorta proofread, all mistakes are my own. enjoy! <3

Leon let out a deep groan as you moved to straddle his unclothed thighs. The handcuffs you had just finished latching to the headboard clinked as he tested their strength. See, Leon had just returned from his mission in Spain. He was, of course, tight-lipped and bound by a very intimidating NDA to keep the details quiet. But, even though he wasn’t able to share the grisly details with you, you could read Leon like a book. He always wore his pain, anger, and anxiety in his eyes, as much as he’d hate to admit it. 

Right now though, his face only told of pleasure, and that was enough for you. You offered him a soft smile as you ground down onto the meat of his muscular thigh, pressing down just enough for him to feel your want. 

“C’mon baby, please.”

Leon’s work mandated therapist, Dr. Woolf, had recommended he work to associate the horrors and trauma he’d experienced with something positive. You were certain that Dr. Woolf did not intend those new associations to be with sex, in fact you had a few qualms with the whole thing but it was the only thing that seemed to help Leon. After years of witnessing the love of your life suffer with his own memories, day and night, you figured you’d do anything to help him. 

So here you both were, blue moonlight kissing warm candle light as it danced over both of your bodies. You had just finished stripping Leon down and cuffing him, wrists over his head, after a very lengthy discussion about limits and how this tied back to Spain. 

This wasn’t that bad, baby, I swear. You had stared at him as he spoke, looking for any hint of a lie. My gear was taken and we were chained to the ceiling. It could have been worse. He smirked at that. You had feigned indignation and lightly smacked his chest. This you could deal with. You knew he suffered much worse but you tried to leave your worries unspoken. 

He looked beautiful like this though, you thought as you ran your eyes over him. Leon Kennedy certainly had a reputation that preceded him. A rookie cop turned hardened agent, a bit of a sarcastic, stoic dickhead if you pissed him off, and a selfless protector. Someone you would want on your team but certainly never wanted to get on the bad side of. But you knew more. He had lived through so much strife and hardship, he was hidden behind years of trauma and survival instincts, but deep down he was a person who longed to be cared for and understood. You were more than happy to give that to him. 

“Darling, I need-“ Leon’s request stuck in his throat, hips kicking up, cock jumping as you ground down hard against his thigh. The pressure on your clit pulled a small sigh out of you. You started to pick up your pace, riding his thigh in earnest now. 

“What do you need, hmm?” You smiled wide at Leon, his hands flexing as he tried to move to touch you. He let out a frustrated groan. 

“Need to see you, s-since I can’t touch.” You dropped your eyes, scanning over Leon’s naked body, still covered in scars and healing bruises. Your gaze stopped at his cock, hard and lying up against his toned stomach. You could see how flushed the tip looked, slick pre-cum dripping, pooling where his cock met skin. Your mouth watered, you simply couldn’t help it. A very vocal part of you wanted to lean down, lap up his mess and take him into your mouth. Later, you promised yourself. 

You, of course, were still dressed. You wanted to give Leon a show. These ‘re-associations’ were to be as involved and lengthy as possible, Dr. Woolf had mentioned. Anything to give Leon’s mind more incentive to replace the bad with the good.

“You wanna see me?” You teased as you ran your hands along your body, fingers teasing under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing - stolen from Leon’s drawer.

“Fuck, yeah please l-let me see you angel,” Leon nodded fervently, his words were starting to slur together slightly. You always liked seeing Leon lose his poise and control, your strong-willed boyfriend squirming and begging underneath you. It didn’t happen often but you relished in the moments Leon would let you in like that, let you take care of him, show you his trust. “…shit baby you look so good in my clothes.” 

“Okay baby, you’re such a good boy for asking.” You smirked as you swung your legs over to kneel next to Leon, needing to remove your lounge clothes. He whined and bucked his hips at the loss of contact, your own slick shiny and cooling on his thigh. Leon just stared at you hungrily. He’d been so patient for you, so good, so you teased the hem of the t-shirt before pulling it off in one quick movement, dropping it off the side of the bed onto the floor. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Leon’s eyes darted to your chest, taking in the sight. You blushed lightly. Leon always looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole, like you were the only other person in the entire world, like he loved and desired nothing more than you. Wanting to hide your blushing cheeks, you leaned down quickly to kiss him, chaste and soft given the current circumstances. The chains rattled again as he moved to reach for you. 

“You’re so good to me,” You whispered as you sat up to pull your sleep shorts and panties down and off. You shuddered as the cold air met your soaked cunt. Leon went slack jawed, his cock jumping slightly off his belly. 

“‘Course sweet thing,” his voice was gruff, filled with want as he stared at your dripping core. You discarded your shorts onto the floor next to your top before moving to straddle Leon’s hips this time. You firmly dropped down to drag your slick cunt against Leon’s cock, the tip bumping against your clit. Leon moaned low and deep, his look of shock immediately replaced by his eyes rolling back into his head. Your own breathing started getting ragged, you wanted nothing more than to slip him inside but you had to control yourself, you really wanted to do this right, to make this last. 

“C’mon baby, ride me,” Leon’s hips pushed up, attempting to slide in whenever you bucked your hips forward. You shuddered, slowly but surely losing the will to tease. It was especially hard when Leon was looking up at you like that, like he was about to cry. “W-wanna make you come.” 

“Yeah?” You groaned loudly, losing the rest of any willpower you had before reaching down to line up his thick cock with your dripping hole. You slammed your hips down hard, a sharp smack mingled with the loud moans of you both. It burned, the sudden stretch, but that didn’t matter when Leon filled you up perfectly, you just couldn’t help it, you craved that feeling. You could see a flash of frustration in his eyes as you slowly started fucking yourself on him. You could feel him shift beneath you, feet planted on the mattress so he could find his own pace. You leaned forward, back arched as your chest met his as you tucked your face into his neck. 

“Thank you,  thank you, thank you-“ Leon chanted softly, groaning as he thrust up into your tight, wet cunt. The sounds were obscene, you felt impossibly wet, Leon’s pre-cum mixing with your slick. 

You finally gained your wits enough to push back into his thrusts, angling your own hips just right so each thrust hit the right spot. You had heard Leon wince as your nails dug into his shoulders, but it barely registered as you barrelled toward your own orgasm, hanging onto Leon like a lifeline.  

“Gonna … gonna come baby, you’re gonna make me come,” you felt Leon’s cock throb inside you as his own thrusts grew erratic. “Unlock the cuffs f’me darling, wanna touch” he squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a sigh. You stilled your hips, leaning over to the nightstand to grab the small key. Leon took advantage of your position to lap and bite at your nipple. You leaned into the sensation.

“L-leon please,” you reached over to unlock one of the cuffs finally allowing Leon’s hands down. He remained limp, pliant under you. 

That is, until you unlocked the second cuff. 

He pushed himself up quickly, slipping out of you, rolling you both over until he was firmly planted between your thighs and had you pinned down by your wrists. You were about to whine from the emptiness when you felt him slide back into you, bottoming out in one quick motion. 

Leon set a frantic pace from there, pushing your knees together and leaning over to press them to your chest, his eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed as you took him even deeper. You could feel the tip of his cock nudge against your cervix with every thrust, sending small sparks of pain through your abdomen, but it only made the fire in your belly grow hotter, made your skin tingle all over. 

“Ah, ah, ah, fuck, Leon!” You bit through gritted teeth, losing all the poise and confidence you had when you controlled the pace. Leon’s fingers intertwined with yours and you held on for dear life, unable to do 

“so fuh-fucking good for me baby, taking me so well,” Leon moaned. It took all the energy you had left to open your eyes just to see Leon lean closer, his soft hair falling over his brow and his jaw locked, willing every bit of his body not to let go yet, he wasn’t done with you. He leaned even closer to kiss you. “You were meant to take this cock right? Only you. Your pussy is so tight huh, angel? Fuck you were made for me weren’t you?” 

All you could do was nod dumbly, squeezing your eyes shut as the fire raged inside both of you. Leon was relentless, fucking into you hard and fast, like a man starved, every thrust hitting the perfect spot inside you. The pressure was building, and you couldn’t really hear what you were saying anymore, you were just babbling about how perfect your cock is, and fuck me, I love you. 

Leon’s pace started to falter, just as you felt your orgasm approaching, but that didn’t matter, as you felt him move to pull out. But you simply couldn’t have that. “No, no, no, no! Come in me Leon, baby, please!” You whined, squirming underneath him. “Wanna feel you, puh-lease, fuck!” 

Leon growled lowly, “You want my cum darling?” There was no more teasing as he lined his cock back up with your puffy, fucked out cunt. Yes, and please, fell out of your mouth like a chant even before he was finished the question. 

“Come in me please, Leon, ‘m close, so close.” And who was he to deny you a single thing? Leon grunted as he started up his brutal pace again, only managing several more thrusts before slamming into you, bottoming out, as he fucked his cum deep inside you. You clenched hard at the throbbing warmth, your soft, tight cunt milking every last drop out of Leon. 

“That’s right, good baby. Take it all. So good just f’me, hmm?” You moaned, nodding weakly, still trying to push your hips against his. The fire raged on in you, your cunt was begging for release. 

“Wanna come, make me come Leon, please, need it.” You whined, putting on the best pout you could manage. Leon chuckled lightly at the sight before pulling out and letting your legs down gently. You were about to complain when Leon leaned in to leave kisses all over the column of your throat, down to your breasts and over your soft stomach before he laid himself down between your legs. 

Your hands reached out to tangle in his hair as he started suckling little marks in the crease of your thigh, so close to where you needed him. 

“Duh-don’t tease,” you whispered, tugging lightly on his strands and bucking your hips up, hoping he’d take the hint. And so he did. You felt yourself melting into the mattress from the very first slow drag of his tongue. Leon seemed content fucking his cum even further into you with his tongue. You sighed and moaned and the fire in your belly burned bright again. You felt his fingers run their way up the inside of your thigh. He pushed two fingers inside, replacing his tongue, crooking them and fucking you, hard and fast. You felt the pressure building quickly, and your cunt squeezed down hard. 

“Gonna come Leon, you’re gonna make me co-“ Leon chose that very moment to latch his mouth over your poor, neglected clit and suck. You finally felt that heat snap as you came, gushing out all over Leon’s hand and face. He continued fucking you through it, the wet sounds positively obscene as your sensitive cunt twitched and dripped. Leon didn’t stop until you were twitching from overstimulation. You had to drag his face away by the iron grip you still had on his hair. He winced lightly as he moved up the bed to drape his body over you. “Sorry,” you whispered, easing up on his hair, followed by “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you!” Leon said as he nuzzled into your neck. You both just laid there, panting for a while, locked in a warm embrace. You dozed in and out of sleep, waking just enough to feel Leon starting to move his hips and feeling something warm and hard pressing up against your thigh.

“Really Leon?” You mumbled, amused. “Already?”

Leon just chuckled, pushing himself up to lean over you and line his hips up with you again, slowly sinking back into your wet, warm cunt. “Can you blame me?”

[vaaaaaiolet]

Leon gives beyond what's asked of him at both work and home, in excess. He's stressed, overworked; worrying you sick. So you teach him how to take. More or less.

mdni. f / m, SHAMELESS smut. light dom/sub w leon subbing, super light bondage. no huge warnings just your run of the mill, emotionally charged p in v + aftercare!!

word count: 1.2k // read on ao3

a/n: stuff i have fun writing gets zero engagement LMAO but i just wanted to make porn sound pretty :( sorry if it makes no sense i just ughghguh lord knows re4r leon's about to go through it even more than he already has. i need to treat him so right.

It doesn’t take much to lure Atlas to your bed, or at least the form he takes on Earth while you’re still on it. Leon’s been weary with the weight of the sky for a while. Between his missions and taking care of nearly everything at home, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth; you worry the burden is compressing his spine. He never says no to you.

Leon, seriously! You’re going to hurt yourself.

Don’t get up, I can get it mysel- aaand you’re not listening.

You’re so sweet, baby, but you didn’t have to.

He won’t give you a break because he won’t give himself a break, and you’re sick of it. Fed up.

So here’s what you do about it. You put on something sweet and lacy, distracting for all the right reasons because you’re Artemis, tying rope into a trap. And you crook a finger at Leon one night when he’s especially pent up. 

He’s as good as ever. Leon’s kisses come out all huffy and sharp and eager to please when he tries pulling you in, but you know he’s twisting the truth about what he wants.

“Wanna try something,” you tell him.

Confusion crooks his brow. 

“I need to know that you trust me.”

A rhetorical question, really. He’s not particularly fond of traffic lights. Leon decides on sparkler as his white flag, and you let him slot his thigh between your legs one last time for luck before you take him under.

Leon’s a filthy liar. Don’t blame him; his hands were tied.

Correction: his hands are tied. Onto the headboard. He’s falling to pieces, whine as he might, begging to sink his fingers into the swell of your hips, anything to hold on while you give him a taste of his own medicine. All he knows how to do is give, give, give. Tonight, you’re teaching Leon how to take.

Your soft palm envelops his cock. His chest burns where your mouth hovers. 

“Baby, please,” Leon lets out a shuddering breath when you squeeze up his length. 

You’ve been at this for a while, dangling yourself just out of his reach. He’d slipped off your body a baby blue lingerie set matching his eyes, a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down, right? You spin around the color wheel, blue to red, swirling your tongue over his flushed nipples. Leon has never not tasted sweet and this time is no exception.

“Please, what?”

“Do something,” he begs. “Can’t…hold off. Don’t wanna-” Leon interrupts himself with a gasp as you go hands-off at the mere suggestion. “Sweetheart, please!”

"Do you still just want to make me feel good?” you ask.

He nods feverishly. 

Wrong answer. 

You buck on his lap just shy of where he aches most, and he keens beautifully. “What do you really want, Leon?” 

Leon fights the arch building in his back. “Want to f-f- fuck, that feels…”

“Right track, baby,” you coo. 

You lean forward as a treat, let him kiss up your breasts how you know he likes. Gentle teeth bite your tender flesh; you hiss in pleasure. This exercise is as much a lesson in control for him as it is for you because you’re going a little hazy yourself. Try straddling the man who would gladly bring down the moon and stars if you so as much ask, and then denying him the single thing he wants most. You.

You’d give up everything for him. Just as he would for you. 

God, that’s where he gets it from, isn’t it? What is it about rules for thee but not for me?

Leon bucks when you loosen his metaphorical reins; smells petrichor that wasn’t there before your head went all stormy. He gazes up at you with cobalt eyes, and suddenly decides that he’s done with his learning curve.

“I want you to fuck me,” he blurts.

You kiss him, soft and sweet. “You’re gonna take what I give you?”

“Everything.”

“Why, baby?” 

Here’s the million dollar question, and Leon passes with flying colors. “‘Cause I…cause I want to feel good.”  

“Why should you? Hm?” You pray he doesn’t let the initial sting of your words get to him when you slip the weeping head of his cock along your slit. The pleasure is quick, fleeting. Not enough. Leon does more than enough and you need him to understand. You have to untie his hands, and they spring free; come home to your hips. Old habits die hard. Leon’s dipping two fingers inside your sopping wet cunt already.

Rephrasing might help. “Why should I make you cum?” you ask, swallowing hard to keep the shudder out of your voice when his knuckle digs into your clit. An opening. 

His eyes pinpoint to pricks.

“Because I fucking deserve it,” Leon growls. “So give it to me.”

The student becomes the master not a moment too soon. 

You urgently notch the head of his cock inside your starving cunt, nearly choking him at the snug fit. He’ll never get used to the feeling of you taking him in. You’re always free to swallow him however you please, but the way your insides wrap around him is unmatched to any mortal feeling he can liken to. Your pussy is poetry in practice.

“Teasing me for damn near hours and won’t even let me touch you.” Leon’s nails bite half-moons onto your thighs as you mount him. “You know what that does to me?”

“That’s how I feel when you don’t fucking take a break,” you bite back. “Leon, you’re gonna work yourself sick, you’re making me crazy!”

What if you’re going about this all wrong? 

“F-Feeling’s mutual. Ugh!” Leon bites off a shout at the molten welcome of your walls all along his length as he sinks home. “So good, so fucking good, baby. Needed to be in you so bad. Thought I was gonna die- oh,” he cuts off a moan when your hips roll hungrily over his, “just like that. Just like that, baby.”

You syncopate your rocking with his heaving breath. Run your palms down the ridges of his hard-earned abs. This is a tandem ride to the tilt that threatens to push you over the edge and you’re fighting it because you still need to get your point across. 

“I want you to - fuck! - take care of yourself,” you cry. “Let me do things for you. Like-” 

Electricity sings through your core through the traitorous press of a thumb weak to your tears.

“-this.” Leon finishes, smiling weakly.

“I loved it, I swear! Did you see me, like, at all?”  

“That’s not the point…” you muffle an embarrassed groan into Leon’s chest as he laughs to himself. Bastard. You’re in his arms keeping his spent cock warm inside you, secretly burning with shame. 

You wanted to do it right, fuck him within an inch of his life ‘cause it’s the first time he’s ever expressed wanting anything from you – and you’d gone and fucked it up. He’d made you cum first and then finished. Chivalry could suck it. 

“I get it.” Leon nods solemnly. “You just got tired of the usual.”

Your heart stops.

“Kidding, sweetheart.” 

Again, bastard. 

“Message received loud and clear,” he kisses the top of your head, and you finally settle down into the smiley afterglow that comes after sex with Leon. “I’ll share the load with you,” he promises, kissing your cheeks, “tell you what I need, take it easier on myself.”

“And why should you?” you ask.

Familiar question, right? You hope it rings bells.

Leon grins. “Cause I deserve it.”

It rings true.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[b4kuch1n]

inking pwactice

[leon-kennedys-boytoy]

as long as I have a face he has a seat

[ghostdice]

hmmMMMmm how about ⌓ and/or ✘?

sick prompts: ⌓: tissues ✘: forehead kisses

➷ it's technically chreon but unspecified whether they're together or not so do with that what you will! :] ➷ the era is also unspecified but piers is there so this is either a piers era or piers survived :D

A/N: i'm not gonna lie i have no idea how this became 1.3k but i hope you enjoy!! :3

⁀➷｡⋆ ༄

The office door nearly slams into Leon square in the face, his hand jumping from the door handle.

“Shit- Leon,” Piers startles, shutting the door behind himself. His expression is slightly dark, clearly frustrated. He pinches his eyes shut for a second, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I hope you can talk some sense into him.”

Their shoulders brush as he walks off, still bristling.

It should deter him. But it doesn’t.

Leon knocks, and when he hears a, “Come in,” he turns the handle with purpose, hand heavy on the metal. Upon entering, his gaze sweeps the room urgently, acting on the vigilance drilled into him. The looming threat unravels awfully quickly- crumples, even. Like the tissues overflowing from the small trash can by Chris’ desk.

Like the tissue balled up in his fist as he looks up at Leon, nose red and eyebags heavy. He’s never seen Chris quite like this. Hospitalized, bled out, sure, but this is different.

“Leon,” Chris attempts to greet before coughing into the inner bend of his arm. His heart twinges strangely at the sight, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

“Are you sick?”

Chris groans. “Not you too.”

“Did Nivans tell you to go home while he was at it?” Leon quirks an eyebrow. He can picture it perfectly: Piers’ eyebrows set in a firm line, pretty lips twisting with frustration as he chews Chris out for coming to HQ sick. It’s negligent. (And maybe a little gross.) He juts his chin towards Chris slightly. “That makes it two to one. Majority rules.”

Chris frowns at that, sniffling. His hand twitches, but he doesn’t grab a tissue. “Consider it vetoed.”

“I really didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve forced my hand, Redfield,” Leon sighs, uncrossing his arms and slipping one hand into his pocket. The screen of his cell phone glints, mimicking the mischievous gleam across the blue of Leon’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Really? You think so?” His finger hovers over the call icon, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “C’mon, Chris. You’ve gotta learn when to fold.”

Chris rolls his eyes before shifting his gaze back down to the case file he seemed to have been reviewing prior. “I’m calling your bluff.”

But then there’s the dial-up tone.

They share one glance, and then Chris is reaching half-way across his desk, trying to snatch the phone out of Leon’s hand while Leon, agile as ever, slips out of his reach. He laughs at the almost elementary display, a quality that no one can bring out the way his offending younger sister could. Chris begins to grumble his protests, but the words tumble into a cough, and Leon fixes him with a pointed look-

And the phone is ringing for an awfully long time. Leon huffs. Of course Claire won't pick up the damn phone. It’s just his luck. He’s about to say something (anything that’ll make this less embarrassing, however unthinkingly), but miraculously, she answers on the very last ring.

“Leon?” Claire’s voice came through worried through the slight static. A bad signal.

“Claire-”

“Oh my god. Leon. If it’s not an emergency, you can just text me.” The worry fizzles out of her voice at his obvious enthusiasm, replaced with a cross between annoyance and relief. “And calling to ask about Chris all the time isn’t an emergency either. I can wingman for you if it’s literally anyone else. You’ve mentioned that guy before-”

“Chris is sick.” He doesn’t have to look at Chris to know the way he’s watching him, attuned to the bloom of blush spreading fast and dark down his neck.

“He’s what?”

“I’m fine,” Chris interjects, weariness and congestion thick on his voice.

“Sick and at work.”

Chris shoots him a glare, but it’s too late.

“Chris,” Claire starts and doesn’t stop- until her signal, still patchy, gives out entirely. If the phone call had done anything, it had made two things very clear:

One: Redfields don’t get sick. But when they do, they get sick- this is only the beginning for Chris. Two: Redfields are bullheaded. This only gets worse when the offender is their counterpart sibling.

Leon would feel bad about the whole interaction, but it doesn’t really make of a difference. Chris is dead set on finishing the day. So on the way out, he doesn’t mention to an agent from HR how Captain Redfield’s feeling a little under the weather and might be developing a fever.

—

There’s an itch that follows Leon as the rest of the day unfolds. Just under his skin, sometimes behind his eyes. Nothing he can scratch or soothe. And he opts to ignore it, ride a little faster back to his place to put on the TV, let it drone in the background as he settles in with a cheap bottle of brandy.

He can envision how the night will play out for Chris. He’ll eat one of those healthy microwave dinners and insist to himself that it’s because it’s quick and not because he’s feeling like shit. Then he’ll take whatever he has in his medicine cabinet, and he won’t call it a night even if he doesn’t let work haunt him all the way home.

Somehow Leon ends up at the grocery store. He picks up chicken stock, a rotisserie chicken, some fresh produce, and a box or two of pasta. (He trusts that Chris still has an assortment of salt, pepper, and various other spices. It’s not like he could’ve cooked enough to run out since the last time Leon was over at his place anyways.)

It’s really a friendly gesture, if anything at all. Just like the key Chris gave him, which he slots into the lock and turns with practiced ease.

Chris, to Leon’s surprise, gets home on time rather than the few hours late he’d willed himself to anticipate. As soon as he trudges through the door, Leon’s ready to offhandedly remark about how he looks like he’s got one foot in the grave (he’d thought that was a little nicer than outright saying he looked like shit, but considering their line of work the punchline may have been a little heavy-handed) when Chris lifts his head, nose turned up. Belatedly, he registers the aromatics, the warm comfort riding pleasantly on the air.

“You cooked for me?”

Leon shrugs dismissively, nails slightly digging crescents into his palm as he scoops a spoonful.

“Tell me if it needs anything; I’m honestly not sure if it’s any good.”

Chris pads his way over as Leon gently blows the steam away. He opens his mouth, accepting the broth graciously, a hum rumbling through the tiny kitchen as he considers. He tilts his head to the side just so, still thinking as Leon withdraws the wooden spoon, the curve passing over his lip, and Leon’s quick to swipe his thumb over the droplet that slips past the corner of his mouth.

“It’s really good,” and when Leon scrunches his nose up in obvious disagreement, he leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Oh, Leon thinks, and that ugly feeling under his skin is soothed, made quiet by the warmth blooming through him.

—

“You’re kidding me,” is all Piers says before he hangs up the phone.

He doesn’t typically run into Leon often, but it’s becoming a habit- not helped by the fact that Leon got sick too. (Of course he did, playing nurse with Chris as his patient.) And yet, he grabs his keys and heads out the door, mind already wandering the pharmacy tucked away at the corner of the grocery store.