Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

7 ☆ Squeaky Clean!

I dangle helplessly from the uncountable strands of thin, uncomfortable webs, squirming around in a desperate and panicked attempt to let myself free. Each individual one is pinching my skin, hair or clothes, irritating my sense of touch.

Hearing the creature scamper along each and every surface at the speed of light sends a cold shiver down my spine, physically cringing at the noise of her bare hands and feet thumping around.

I suddenly feel slim fingers sliding over my body as the sound stops, and I freeze to the spot. I stare straight ahead, directly at the cop who's aiming his gun in my direction.

I can feel the side of my neck heating up as it's warm, damp breath tickles my skin. It takes everything in me to not projectile vomit everywhere. I don't move a muscle, but my eyes dart to the side as they focus on the creature.

A slimy, long tongue sloppily runs over my neck and shoulders, running over any of my brothers dried blood. I shudder, whimpering softly and disgustedly as I try not to freak it out. Incase it brutally eats me alive.
Hey, at least it's cleaning the blood off me... I guess.

One shot. Two. Three-four-five-six.

Reload.

Seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve.

Reload.

Six more shots. Eighteen.

Eighteen shots and nothing to show for it. At least he's trying, but it's not very effective. I mean, it's a spider. What are spiders weakness, anyway? Water? Fire? Bug spray? I have none of those!

I grimace again, feeling the slow sensation of it's freakishly long tongue cleansing me of the previously living red substance. It's supernatural; the way the crusty, crimson colour on my clothes just instantly vanishes.

Trying to ignore it's slobbery touch, I glance up at Leon. He gives one last attempt to blast the creature full of lead, to no avail.

I glance over my shoulder, forming a ball of spit and doing my best to smack it directly into some of it's (many) eyes.

It hisses, the spot I hit in question boiling and bubbling. It crawls away rapidly into the deep dark depths of the room.

"Leon!" I yell, desperately. He runs over to me, pulling out his knife and trying his luck at that. Once again, nothing.

"Gah, damn it!" He curses, frustratedly. I gasp, realisation hitting me.

"The sprinkler system." I whisper, my eyes widening. "Do you have a lighter?"

"No! I don't smoke!" He exclaims, disappointedly. "And I used the last of the matches earlier."

"Okay, well I smoke weed. Sorry cop, only just remembered. Anyway, take the lighter out of my back pocket, and do anything with it. Burn her. Smoke the place out." I whisper, smirking proudly. Good day to be a stoner.

He doesn't even have time to be disappointed in me. Not anymore than the blank expression he gives me, anyway. He rummages through my pockets, pulling out the lighter from my back, left side pocket just in time to catch the monster scuttling back over to us.

Leon whips out a (very clearly almost empty) can of deodorant out of his hip pouch, spraying the spider. The deodorant smells like what the main room smelled like when he lit those bodies alight. Maybe that's what he used the other portion of the can on.

He clicks my lighter, setting Arachna into a ball of flames; her body lighting the room like the sun lights the solar system.

The specimen let's free a blood-curdling scream, enough to wake the heavens. It falls on it's back, all eight legs sticking in the air before it falls to the floor in an unresponsive state.

As this happens, every single web created by her sets ablaze and disintergrating within mere moments. I let out a pained cry as the heat burns me all over; until I fall to the floor, Leon scooping me up.

"Hey, you're okay now." His confident tone contradicts with the gentleness in his voice; it's almost as soft as when Caesar passed. His voice reminds me of that moment, and I take a brave, deep breath.

"Let's just go. We need to find some better weapons." I frown, fiddling with my flashlight again. It's useless. Must be out of juice.

We, once again, traverse the hallways, pulling out the map every so often to mark down anything special. I point to a locker room, and we navigate our way there.

"Okay, straight forward, right, right." I recite to him, sticking right to his side, practically joining us at the hip.

"Yeah-" The both of us let out a little yelp of shock as a zombie sits up and grabs his ankle. In sync, we whip out our gun and shoot it's brains into Swiss cheese.

"Oh, God. This is so freaky..." I grimace, staying high alert.

"Aww, poor thing. Does tough little punk want me to hold her hand?" He coos, taking the mickey. Except it doesn't bother me.

"Yeah, wouldn't mind." I take his free hand, locking it into mine as we trudge along. I only agreed to piss him off. He gasps at the unexpected contact, not predicting that in the slightest.

His mouth opens to speak, but all that happens is a deep scarlet envelopes his cheeks and ears in embarrassment. This man is clearly touch starved.

"I- uh... okay... lesson learned." His large, calloused hand envelopes my smaller, smooth one as he uses his free hand to brush his golden, bleached hair away from his blindingly bright diamond-like eyes.

Am I seriously analysing him? Ew! More like little piggy cop wants to go to the donut shop and not do his job properly.

Yet I feel guilty making myself think these things. He saved me. He can't be all bad, surely?

But one of Caesar's last wishes were for me to stop being naïve and trusting everyone so easily. And I trust him.

We take our last right turn, both of us collectively squeezing a little tighter in suspense of possibly getting attacked. Luckily for us, we're safe and enter the room without any issues.

I loosen my grip as we enter the room, but he doesn't get the hint. I smack his hand with my second one, making him yank away by instinct with a roll of his eyes.

"You couldn't have just asked me to let go?" He raises his eyebrows, having a little fiddle with the light switch in hopes that it works. He shakes his head and steps away, trying his luck at the mysteriously stained lockers instead.

"Nah. That was more fitting." I take a calm stroll to the other side of the room, confidently swinging open a metal door. My breath catches in my throat as another god-forbidden zombie pounces directly at me.

I swerve it, glancing back and noticing the shotgun inbetween it's hands as it continues to charge at me.

With quick thinking, I duck and force it's disintergrating knees backwards like a rhino, forcing it onto the damp, bacteria-ridden floor.

Bang!

The monsters finger slips, the bullet crashing into the wall behind me. I snatch the gun and push the metal rim against it's neck, pulling the trigger... except there's no bang this time.

I grit my teeth, mentally cursing at the wasted bullet. I shove the end of the shotgun down it's throat as it goes in for a bite, lodging it down as far as I can before smashing it's head into the floor, the length repeatedly banging it's face as the rim practically tickles it's trachea.

After a few forceful thrusts, the weapon tears through the already decaying flesh, practically turning the zombie into an oversized vulva.

I let out a sigh of relief, glancing over to the dumb cop. It didn't occur to me while I was fighting the brain dead creature that he should probably be helping me, so when I notice him I feel a slight pang of irritation.

Although, that's gone when I observe the blood seeping down the side of his face and the several half-mutilated zombies on the floor.

Damn, I had it lucky.