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sundains · 6 days

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contact high // leon s. kennedy

Leon x Reader Pointless Fluff wc: ~1.5k this fic was just an excuse to practice dialogue. [insert kermit 'its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner' meme here] i think getting obliterated and falling asleep on leon could fix me.

summary: You're gone. No text, no voicemail - disappeared off the face of the earth. or Leon forgets you're at a party and finally has an excuse to practice those breathing exercises his therapist recommended.

content: drugs, leon's POV, gender neutral reader. intended as post-vendetta, pre-death island leon. bro's in therapy and he hates that it's working.

The door's unlocked.

Leon's brow furrows. He stands in the doorway a moment, turning the key again just to be sure he's not falling asleep on his feet. No such luck.

He steps into the apartment and calls your name, a hint of scolding sharpening the edges. How many times has he got to remind you? "Babe, you can't leave the door unlocked. Seriously, I could be anyone."

His own voice mocks him, bouncing back off the empty halls of the apartment. He pauses, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listens for the telltale sound of your presence - your voice drifting from the back room, loud and raucous laughter on a call with your friends, the drone of your latest period drama on TV - anything.

Worry overpowers exhaustion. He doesn't think to check his phone, gets right to snooping instead. Minds like his jump to the worst case scenario first, first responder born and bred.

Start from the top. Leon lets the evidence guide him around the room. Your shoes are in disarray by the shoe rack - not as if they had been disturbed in an altercation, but in your usual, messy way. Indecision, not foul play. The blanket on the back of the couch is wadded up and left in a heap on your side. A half-empty water glass drowns in its condensation, leaves a ring that won't come out later. You’d been in a hurry, but was it forced or absent-minded?

Leon’s hand curls over his sidearm. He's not taking any chances. He's already blown his cover by calling out. Stupid, he thinks. Getting slow in his old age. He spins into the kitchen, checking corners before he checks countertops.

Your keys lay in a heap on top of the mail.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Not yet, anyway. He scans the rest of the room, looking for other traces of you. Your bag, your phone, anything. Dinner hasn't been left out. The dishes have been put up. There's no sign of a struggle anywhere. It's entirely possible you just stepped out. But at this time of night? It’s almost two in the morning. No - it must have been someone that you had trusted. He flips through every friend you’ve ever introduced him to. Every ex, every bad date –

His therapist's voice nags at the back of his mind, babbling about jumping to conclusions, about assuming the worst case scenario and turning every uncomfortable moment into an operation, clinging to control through procedure, through swift, decisive action.

Deep breath. Look for alternative, easier answers. Not everything is life or death. Taking a hammer to every problem will only break things.

He fishes his personal phone out from his jacket, flips through messages. No new texts or missed calls from you. Not encouraging. Breathe in for four, hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Can’t believe these stupid breathing exercises work.

He should just call you. What the hell is he thinking? If he calls and you don't answer, then he can give himself permission to panic.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. By the third time, he's already pacing back to the front door, ready to take his investigation from top to bottom again. He’s already crouched by the shoe rack, searching for anything he could have missed, when you answer.

"Hey!" Thank fucking god. It sounds like you're in the middle of a warzone, but at least you picked up.

Not a warzone, he reminds himself. That’s laughter, not the wail of the dead and dying. He tries to speak past the lump in his throat, but the words get stuck. Breathe, he reminds himself. He tries again.

“Hey.”

The noise of the crowd dims, the latch of a door shut a little too hard - where the hell are you?

"What's up? How was work?"

Are you serious? It’s nearly two in the morning and all you can say for yourself is how was work?

"Fine," he says, trying his best not to be curt. He presses his fingers to his temples, massages the headache away. "Where are you?"

"Jen's birthday."

Shit. That was right. You had that party. Leon marches back into the kitchen, stares at the whiteboard you had plastered to the fridge. You insisted on writing your schedule out for him. He'd thought it was stupid, at the time. He didn't need help remembering.

There it is. Your spidery handwriting haphazardly circled, confetti and noisemakers poorly drawn around it - B-DAY PARTY, 8PM

He drops his head against the fridge door, tries not to sigh into the phone.

“We talked about it last week.”

“I know.”

"I left you a note."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, baby. I would have invited you but there's, like, so much weed here," you laugh. It lights his chest up with warmth - or maybe that’s relief. “In good conscience, I couldn’t invite a fed.”

In good conscience, you say. He snorts, bonks his head against the fridge again. Yeah. You’re high, all right.

“You forgot your keys.” “Fuck!” You’re pouting. He can hear it over the phone. “Sorry. Can you leave the door unlocked for me? I’ll get an Uber. Party’s kinda over anyway.”

Like hell you will. He doesn’t trust those things. A cute little thing like you, getting into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night, high off your ass?

“No, no.” He slips his shoes back on, fishes his keys from his pocket. “Send me the address. I’ll come get you.”

It’s the same roulette wheel of questions you ask him every time he offers to do something for you. Are you sure? Yes, of course he is. I don’t want to bother you. He was literally made to be bothered by you, that’s what he signed up for. Can we watch a movie? Sure, why not. He’ll probably fall asleep, but he knows you’ll beat him to it. Probably won’t even make it past the first scene.

You’re waiting for him on the curb, hands tucked into your armpits to keep warm. Your face splits into a grin when he pulls up to you. There’s that damn warmth again, spreading down his limbs. He leans over to pop the door for you. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, got him worried for a moment that you might have the spins, but you plop into the seat and kiss him in lieu of hello, and his worries evaporate.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs against your lips. Before you can give him your smug little reply, he straightens up, puts the car in gear. “You’re gonna give me a contact high. Gonna fail my drug test. Lose my job.” “Yeah, right. You could be on, like, mega-coke and they’d keep you around.”

“Mega-coke, huh? That the big new thing with kids?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

You babble at him the whole ride home, catching him up on the latest drama, pausing for him to interject with no, she didn’t and what a bitch at the appropriate moments. He has to fend off your encroaching hands at stop lights, knowing damn well you want more than just to rest your hand on his thigh. You laugh every time he moves your hand back to your side, your nose scrunching and the corner of your eyes creasing, and he knows there’s no staying mad at a face he’s mapped out countless times before bed, whether he was right next to you or half a world away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, your head has knocked against the car window, your babbling slowed. He nudges you gently, big palm splayed against the point of your shoulder.

“Want me to carry you in?” He asks, his voice low. He meant it to sound teasing, but his heart’s not in it.

You stir, fumbling with your seatbelt. “Neighbor’s are gonna see.”

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He reaches across the console and unbuckles your seatbelt for you. You pop the door open and stumble out on your own two feet before he can round the car. He settles for looping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

He guides you inside, makes a teasing joke about locking the door – now, this is called a ‘lock’, you put your key in and turn it so no one can get in. That way your stuff doesn’t get stolen and your boyfriend doesn’t freak out - just to hear you grouse at him and smack his shoulder.

After making a show of locking the door, he drops you off on the couch. He presses a kiss to your hair and trots off to get you a glass of water. He can’t have been gone more than a handful of minutes, but when he returns, you’re crashed out against the arm of the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Didn’t even make it to the movie,” Leon muses. He pulls you to lean against his chest and unfurls the wadded up blanket, draping it over the both of you.

The arm of the couch jams into his back at an awkward angle. He tries to shift down, but you whine and cling to him tighter. It feels like kicking a puppy. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, but he lets you rest. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

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sundains · 7 days

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Scoot On Over

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship, fluff with a tiny bit of suggestive spice at the end

Leon threw himself down onto the mattress with a relieved sigh – a cliché, but there was nothing like sleeping in your own bed after being away. It had been a mixture of questionable motel beds, a couple of nights in the backseat of the car, another night of no sleep at all and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on the brink of exhaustion, running on adrenaline until he made it back home to you that evening.

He rubs his cheek against your pillow, inhaling the scent of your perfume and allows himself to close his eyes. Now, he just needs you in his arms for a perfect’s night sleep…

“Leon?”

Nothing – again. You’d worry he had stopped breathing entirely if he wasn’t letting out soft snores from where his face was pressed against your pillow. He’d been away on a mission for two long weeks and had arrived home early evening, duffel bag in hand, covered in fading bruises, kisses and wandering hands tinged with weariness despite his obvious excitement to be back home with you.

You made small talk as you’d made a light dinner – get him fed and then you could both have an early night. He didn’t like to talk much about his missions had entailed – he wanted to keep the two things as separate in his brain as he could – but he knew if he needed to talk about something, you’d be there and that was enough.

You’d sent him up to bed first whilst you finished up in the kitchen – you liked to start off each morning with a clean slate in there and it would only take you ten minutes tops to sort, you’d assured him, a cheeky pat to his backside as you encouraged him up the stairs.

He’d changed into a pair of plaid PJ bottoms and a plain white tee, so he must’ve brushed his teeth and then just… collapsed? You place a hand on the broad expanse of his back, giving him a light shake. “Sweetheart?”

The problem is, Leon is broad and tall and currently, somehow, taking up the whole of your double bed. You can’t even see a reasonable space you could try and curl up into against his side and be remotely comfortable, the way his limbs are spread out like a starfish.

“Leon,” you place another hand on his back and give a more vigorous shake. “I just need you to scooch on up a bit, sweetheart.”

Nothing.

You change tact and try and lift an arm, maybe you can get him to roll with a little encouragement, or he’ll wake up? Surely as an agent he’s a light sleeper anyway, what if you were an enemy or any sort of threat?

His arm is deadweight, all muscle - even if you try and lift it with both hands, embarrassingly, you can’t get it even an inch or so off the mattress.

You try and push it inwards so it’ll sit tight against his body, but it just won’t move.

“Leon?” You grab hold of his shoulder and shake it with all of your strength.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles.

A sign of life – hallelujah. “Can you move along a bit for me?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t move.

“Just need you to scooch up a bit for me, handsome.” “Mm-hm…” And he snuggles his face further into your pillow, an adorable smile on his face as he does.

With a sigh, you try and wedge yourself into the space in defeat – maybe he’ll subconsciously feel you and lift his arm up for a cuddle, and then you’d be able to fit a little more comfortably? He did prefer to sleep with an arm wrapped around you, keeping you pressed close up against him, legs tangled together.

After trying out various positions in the hopes of coaxing him into a spoon, a few more vigorous shakes and, finally, a more than playful smack to his backside that achieved no more than a mumble – not proud of that one, but needs must - you admit defeat, kneel down beside the bed and stare at his slumbering face in thought.

He must be utterly exhausted and, despite the frustration of not being able to cuddle up against him after so many nights apart, it is flattering, you suppose, that he must feel safe within your company to allow himself to relax so completely and be out like a literal light.

You lean down to pick up his neglected pillow and press a kiss to his forehead, and grab the throw from the end of the bed – looks like it’s a night on the couch.

Leon wakes up slowly as light filters in through the curtains. His body had been aching from his time away, but it seems a night in his bed has set him right. He stretches his arms out, expecting for a hand to brush up against your warmth but is dismayed when he finds the bed empty.

He turns and sits up, cautiously, rubbing the back of his head with a loud yawn and takes in his surroundings, wondering if you’ve just nipped to the en-suite, but the door to it is ever so slightly ajar.

Your phone is plugged in on the bedside table, charging, which is odd – although not glued to the thing, it's strange for you not to have taken it with you if you’d gone downstairs to make breakfast…

There’s a sickening feeling in his stomach when he realizes he doesn’t remember you coming to bed at all, that he had been waiting for you to come join him and…

Hazy memories of you calling out to him?

Fuck.

He jumps up to his feet, dashes out the bedroom and takes the stairs down two at a time, trying to think. He’d left his gun in his duffel bag, hadn’t even taken it up with him, left it by the door when he arrived home last night. Had he been drugged? He had felt exhausted, but he’d put that down to the poor sleep over the last while. Could someone have followed him home last night, drugged him somehow, a tranquilizer, waited for him to be out for the count to swoop in and…?

His heart stops as he sees you lying on your side on the couch, the throw from the bed now twisted around your legs, arms wrapped around his pillow.

Safe and sound, and fast asleep.

He exhales, calming himself for a moment with a chuckle, before kneeling down besides you and tilting his head, awkwardly, so he can kiss you up the lips.

The sensation is enough for you to stir, blinking up at him with a dozy smile.

“Morning.”

“I don’t recall us having a fight last night, sweetheart.” He grins at his joke, but it’s one that falls flat.

“A fight?” You repeat, confused.

“You know, when couples fight, one of them ends up sleeping on the couch...”

“Oh, yeah,” you yawn, sitting up with the slightest wince. “You wouldn’t let me in the bed.”

“Huh?”

“When I came up to bed you were dead to the world, literally star-fished. I tried to get you to scoot up a little so I could get in but it was impossible, so I slept down here.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hm, you must’ve been exhausted.” You nod, shuffling around to place your feet flat on the ground. “Lemme make us some coffee… Ow!” You hiss as you stand, placing a hand on the small of your back.

Leon is quick to his feet, eyes wide in alarm. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m okay, it’s just my back,” you rub at the sore spot, the muscles feeling tender. It had been fine last night… “Maybe the couch isn’t the best for sleeping on.”

You take another step forward, intent on heading to the kitchen, but there’s no hiding the wince from Leon’s gaze. “Oh, baby…”

“It’ll be fine, I just need to walk it off.”

“Uh-uh, come on,” and those muscular arms that were so impossible to move last night are suddenly scooping you up and holding you against his chest as he heads back towards the stairs. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s still early and a couple of hours on a proper, supportive mattress might work wonders.”

You wrap your arms around his neck in turn. “Oh, I know your game, Kennedy.”

“And what’s that?” He replies, nonchalantly as he begins to ascend the stairs, careful not to knock your legs against the banister.

“The other activity you like to conduct in bed, the one that’s not sleeping? I just…” You tense in his arms, looking a little hesitant. “I don’t know if my back’s gonna play ball...”

Leon reaches the top of the landing and smirks, “Trust me - stretches work wonders for back pain, sweetheart.”

He strides into the bedroom and kicks the door closed with his foot.

It doesn’t open again until late afternoon. -- AN: Inspired by my boyfriend actually star-fishing me outta the bed and me having to sleep on the couch x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Comments, reblogs and likes make my whole day x

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sundains · 17 days

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HIII! ME AGAIN!

So…Since we’re on the topic of emo Leon, can we please talk about super depressed alcoholic vendetta Leon? Like hello, yes sir. Please take me to your dirty apartment filled with empty whiskey bottles and a dirty mattress on the floor.

I always feel like vendetta Leon gets left out cause he’s a nasty, disgusting, old man, but that just makes it better. I need to be the light in his life that saves him Y’know? I need him to love me so much that he’ll quit everything for me and come knocking on my door drunk at 3 AM. 🥹

-Anon! 🎀

Vendetta Leon is like crunchy peanut butter. Not a lot of people prefer it but it's still pretty good regardless of all the hard bits of nut.

(I got carried away, sorry 🎀anon 😭, put a cut for scrolling purposes)

He's so crunchy and like a washed up old street dog. Like you would find him stumbling back to his apartment after a super long and tedious assignment in a dry county of the US. He was on such a time crunch he literally couldn't even buy airplane bottles of Jack Daniels to refill his flask before leaving. An when he gets home the only thing he wanted was to forget about everything that happened. So he over does it with the drinking and gets absolutely plastered.

So blasted he falls through the front door of his apartment building and ends up faceplanting in front of a cute person he's never seen before in his life. And he's out cold...

You just stare down at him in shock, coming downstairs from just having dinner at your friends place and you're immediately worried. He's technically in a public space so if you call for help this guy could get charged with disturbing the peace or some shit... So you call your friend, they know who he is and his apartment number. So the two of you (with a lot of struggling) get this man back to his apartment.

The place looks absolutely disgusting... Empty food containers, whiskey bottles, trash and dirty dishes piling up. He's obviously struggling... Really fuckin hard. Your friend abandons ship quickly, not wanting to deal with the guy since he's apparently an asshole. But you stick around, wanting to make sure he's okay at least when he wakes up. Staring at him long enough you realize he actually scraped his chin up pretty badly.

So you search the place for disinfectant and bandages. Finding out the rest of the apartment is almost just as disgusting as the living room... But you manage to find bandages, cleaner and some healing gel.

You sit on the couch, get his head in your lap so you can clean him up and just as you get the bandage on his eyes open. Leon's dazed, still a little drunk, his face hurts but he'll live. Then he sees you, the person from the doorway.

Are you okay? You question, his eyes fixing on you. Not sure if it's the over head lighting or his mind playing tricks on him but it's almost like you have a halo above your head.

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sundains · 17 days

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The cop and the cat

Summary: Leon finds a stray kitten outside the RPD building. He doesn’t know anything about cats but he stills rescues the kitten. Reader is veterinary nurse and helps Leon with his kitten.

Warning: fluff/comfort. reader and leon are roughly around the same age (early 20s). just cute vibes all around.

A/N: thought I might give y’all something wholesome after my last few fics :3 also, I don’t often write about RE2R Leon so here’s just a little drab

“If the sun refused to shine, baby, would I still be your lover?” - Ariana Grande, intro (end of the world)

Leon was often too busy in the police force to actually be able to live his life in peace. He would patrol the streets at night to ensure the citizen’s safety, he’d help the old lady cross the street and all of that. He’s a ray of sunshine but don’t let his soft exterior fool you. This man was passionate and dedicated to his work.

One night, he was sent over to a corner near a gas station since someone had called the police, claiming that two people were fighting and pulled out their firearms. As Leon neared the gas station in his patrol car, he saw that everybody had left. He exited the vehicle and with a confused face as he looked around.

He entered the store and walked up to the cashier, “Hey, someone called the cops earlier over a fight. Did they just leave or…?”

The cashier, an old man with glasses sitting atop his hooked nose, looked over at him from his book and sighed heavily. He closed his book and leaned against the cashier counter, “Those little rascals. They’re the chaos of the block. Everyday they pull a mediocre stunt and call the cops. They’re just pranks.” The man has obviously been in this situation before by the sound of his voice.

It was no lie that kids nowadays prank called the police a little too often. But since the police department had told Leon that regardless of a prank or not, they must take every call and situation seriously. Leon sighed and spoke to someone in the walkie-talkie near his shoulder, “This is Officer Kennedy, there wasn’t an actually accident. Some kids prank called the station.”

There was a slight static on the other side before a woman spoke up, “Okay, come back to the station. We’ll deal with the rest.”

Leon looked back at the old man and gave him a tight lipped smile, he felt bad for him but there was nothing much he could do.

He walked out of the gas station and heard a small ‘meow’ coming from the alleyway on the side of the store. He took out his flashlight and slowly walked over to where the sound came from.

The night was dark and a little chilly from the humidity. As Leon began to enter the dark alleyway, he saw a beaten box, ripped and barely holding itself together. He saw a group of kids huddled around it, laughing and sticking a stick inside as they taunted whatever was inside.

Leon sighed and called out to the kids, “Go home, it’s past curfew.” The group of younglings looked over at Leon and hurriedly ran out of the alley. They got in their bikes and rode off to god knows where. With a soft exhale Leon turned back towards the box and slowly approached it, his curiosity at the highest peak.

As he crouched down in front of the box, he saw a small black kitten hiding in the corner. Its tail was curved as its hairs stood up in fear. The kitten hissed at Leon and tried to look intimidating but ultimately failed. He chuckled and slowly picked up the little fur ball.

“Well aren’t you just a lucky fella,” Leon mumbled as the kitten rested on his palm. He stood up straight and flashed his flashlight on the small animal, making sure the kids didn’t harm it. Once Leon saw that the kitten wasn’t hurt, he walked back to the patrol car and sped off to the station.

He didn’t know why he took the animal to his apartment. He didn’t know why he was crouched on the floor watching the little baby kitten eat whatever leftovers Leon had.

He doesn’t know anything about pets- especially cats. Sure, he likes animals, but that doesn’t mean he’s actually good at taking care of one. The black kitten stood in Leon’s kitchen, happily eating away the food Leon had given it.

Leon did what anyone would- look it up online. He took out his phone and began to search on Google:

“How to take care of kitten”

“What to feed a kitten”

“How to know if kitten is feral”

For the next following days, with the help of Google and some of his friends, he bought wet cat food, a litter box with cat litter, a collar, and some toys for his new furry friend.

But don’t ask him about the scratches on his forearm. Cats hate baths and he had to learn this the hard way.

His friends came over to his apartment to check up on the kitten, he named it Becky because one of his friends told him it was a girl. And he never questioned it. If someone told him the cat was a girl, he’d go with it. Again, he doesn’t know anything about cats.

Becky has been acting strange after some time. She hasn’t been eating much and doesn’t play as much as she used to. Leon became very worried. If you think being a police officer stressed him, boy this was worse. He became absolutely anxious and paranoid- like a real parent.

One day, he decided to take Becky to the vet since his friends and Google weren’t useful. They kept scaring him and telling him Becky had rabies or that she’s going to die. He needed someone who would take his concerns seriously, so he resulted in going to the vet.

He’s never been in one so when he walked in, he was just as confused and scared as Becky. He hung the pet backpack over his shoulder as Becky anxiously looked around. He walked over to the front desk and spoke to a middle aged lady, “Hey, um- I’m here for a checkup?”

The lady turned to look at Leon and then began to type of the monitor she had, “Alright, what’s this checkup for? Who’s the patient?”

Leon took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “My cat, Becky. She’s been acting weird and hasn’t been eating her food as much.”

The lady nodded and typed away as she spoke, “Okay… have you ever been with us?” Leon shook his head no, “No, this is my first time having a pet.”

The lady paused and looked at him mildly shocked. She took out a small brochure and gave it to him, “Well, since you’re new here’s a list of the services we provide with the prices. There’s also information for pet owners regarding food and shelter. You can wait over there-“ she pointed to a sitting area, “Someone will be with you. What’s your name?”

“Leon S. Kennedy,” He replied as he put the brochure in his pocket.

“Alright, Mister Kennedy. Just wait and we’ll send someone out for you.”

The lady left momentarily and Leon walked over to an empty chair. He took off his pet carrier backpack and rested it on his lap. As he waited, he couldn’t help but look around and admire all the pet owners. Everyone looked like they knew what they were doing except him. He was so nervous and scared for his little girl.

“Becky?” The voice of a girl broke his trance. He quickly looked over at you who had called the name of his kitten. You had your hair was in a low bun, your scrubs were a bright shade of blue- much like everyone else who worked here. You had an iPad in your hands.

“Here,” he shyly raised his hand and you smiled at him with warmth. You walked over to him and spotted the cute little kitten. You looked down at the iPad and began to scroll, “Your name is Leon, correct?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Leon.” You smiled softly, “Okay, Leon, is there a reason why Becky needs a checkup?” You looked at him from the iPad.

I blew out some air before speaking, “Well, she hasn’t been eating as much and she doesn’t play anymore. All she does is sleep all day and I’m getting worried. She’s also gotten skinnier.”

Your face turned serious as you wrote this stuff down on the iPad, you’ve always had a passion for animals. You never made fun of someone for their concerns and Leon noticed this. He felt grateful that someone finally was able to help him.

“Has she been throwing up? Diarrhea?” You furrowed your brows in concern as he shook his head, “No, she barely even moves at times. Sometimes she’ll just stay in my bed all day until I come back from work.”

You hummed and kept going with the questionnaire, “Has she been outside the past 30 days?”

He nodded, “I picked her up from the street a little over a week ago.”

You nodded and then gave him the iPad, “Fill out the information- your email, address, phone number- I’ll go notify a doctor.”

He took the iPad from your hands as you walked away. He skimmed through the questions and answered them as he waited for you to come back.

Once you had come back, you motioned for him to follow you. He stood up, with the backpack in his hands, and followed behind you to one of the rooms.

You closed the door as the doctor introduced himself to Leon, “Good afternoon, mister Kennedy, I assume this is Becky?” The doctor pointed to the backpack as Leon nodded.

Leon laid the backpack on the table in the center and opened it. Becky didn’t move nor did she meow or hiss at anyone. You stood next to Leon as you stared at little kitten. Leon had been able to catch a whiff of your scent, vanilla with a hint of sweat. Must be from all the running around with pets all the time, he thought.

The doctor took Becky into his hands and began to thoroughly inspect her. You noticed Leon’s worried face and chuckled faintly, “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. He does this all the time,” you reassured. Leon gave you a weak smile before turning back to his cat.

“You said her name was Becky?” The doctor asked with a raised brow. Leon nodded, “Yeah, why?”

The doctor motioned for you to check Becky and as soon as you did. You tried not to laugh by biting down a smile. “What’s so funny?” Leon asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Becky isn’t a girl… he’s a boy,” you answered with a small laugh.

Leon’s face fell shocked. How could he have not noticed his own cat was a boy. His friends definitely lied to him. Leon ran a hand through his face in shock, “But is he okay?”

The doctor nodded, “He doesn’t seem to have an external injury. Y/n, go get my tools. I want to check something.”

You nodded and swiftly stepped out of the room, leaving Leon alone with the doctor.

You came back with a small metal box containing all sorts of tools Leon doesn’t really know about. But he trusted the two of you.

The doctor began to inspect the kitten’s ears, eyes, paws, and mouth. “I don’t see anything…” the doctor mumbled under his breath.

“Have you checked for missing teeth?” You suggested as you moved over to the check the kitten’s mouth. Your gentle hands slowly parted the kittens mouth open as the doctor shone its light on the cat’s teeth, “Nope. Nada.”

Leon sighed, “There’s nothing wrong with him?” His voice was full of worry and concern. The doctor shrugged as you caressed the kitten, “Maybe he’s tired of the same food. Cats don’t like to eat the same thing all the time, they need variety. How long have you been feeding it wet food?”

“Ever since I got her- I mean him,” you looked over at him and smiled as he corrected himself, “Does he drink water or milk?”

“Water…” Leon mumbled, he knew cats drank milk but he didn’t know until when. The doctor eyes bulged out of his face, “Water? You should be giving it milk.” There was no judgment in his voice, the older man was simply just too shocked.

“I didn’t know…” Leon mumbled back and looked away awkwardly. “It’s fine, he won’t die,” you reassured him.

“We’ve got a few food options for week old kittens down at the lobby, I can help you with that,” you replied softly as the older doctor kept staring at the kitten. Leon nodded and smiled at you, “I’d appreciate it.”

“Well then, looks like this little guy is tired of the same food and has been putting up a tantrum,” the doctor concluded as he put the kitten back inside the backpack.

You chuckled and Leon looked away in embarrassment. His ears red from the lack of information he had about his own pet.

You walked him back to the front desk. He paid for the visit and then followed you to a vending machine with cat food and snacks.

“Okay, so- this is good for oral hygiene, this one’s good for their kidneys, and this one’s good for their pooping habits,” you said as you pointed to different types of snacks. Leon could only stare, he didn’t even know cats needed so much to stay healthy.

“Wow… that’s a lot of things…” he muttered under his breath, you chuckled and nodded. “Cats are high maintenance sometimes. They’re picky with what they want.”

“I can tell,” he replied and looked down over at you, “Which one do you recommend, doc?”

You chuckled again and shook your head, “I’m hardly a doctor,” you looked over at the snacks and then pointed to a blue packet, “Most kittens love this brand, you should give it a try.”

He looked over at your finger pointing to the cat food and nodded. He pulled out his money but you stopped him, “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

The way you smiled at him sent him butterflies to his stomach. He nodded slowly and put his wallet back into his pocket, “If you’re okay with that, sure.”

You smiled and pulled your card out to pay for the cat food. The vending machine then dropped the pack and you leaned down to pick it up. You held it out to him, “So, is his name still Becky?”

Leon chuckled and took the pack from your hands, “No, I’ll think of a different name. Thanks again, I’ve never had a cat before and it gets confusing sometimes.”

You nodded in understanding, “I get it. It’s okay to not know things, we don’t judge. Here-“ you pulled out your phone and gave it to him, “We should exchange numbers so I can help you with your cat.”

He shyly took your phone and put his number, you sent him a small text to let him know that it was your number that popped on his screen. You both smiled at each other as the moment passed.

“Well, I’ve gotta get back to work,” you replied quietly and took a step back, “Text me if anything happens?”

Leon nodded with a smile, “Yeah- I’ll… I’ll text you.”

He felt like a middle school boy all over again. Something about you made him like you. You were kind, calm, funny… how could he not think you’re cute?

Leon walked back to his car and drove to his apartment.

You and Leon had exchanged a few text messages, mostly about his cat whose new name became Walter. He watched Breaking Bad that day it just stuck to him.

Turns out the doctor was right. Walter was silently throwing a fit because he didn’t like eating the same food all the time.

Some of the text messages between you two turned into questions about each other. He told you he was a cop and he told you how he actually found Walter.

You FaceTimed, called, messaged whenever you either of you could.

Leon was so sure that this cat would definitely make his life interesting and now that you were in his life, it would become even more important.

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sundains · 18 days

Text

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.”

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

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sundains · 20 days

Text

Ballet Shoes and Bulletproof Vests

CW: Recovering from alcoholism (Leons just trying to better himself man

Words: 1k

A/N: 👛anon I've had brain rot because of you. But I still love you pookie.

Blue leotard... Gunmetal blue, his favorite shade. It was almost like you were trying to send a signal through the glass windows of the studio attached to the apartment building gym.

Every weekend for the past few months he'd come down and workout for a two hours without issue. Until you moved into the building a month ago. Walking through the gym in leotards and the same skin tone tights straight into the small studio space.

Leon picked up quickly that you don't seem to be doing mindless pirouettes, pliés or chassé. You practiced the same routine, which means you probably do this for a living. Or at the very least a hobby.

He tried his best to not come off creepy but sometimes he couldn't stop from staring. Leon rarely found beauty in life anymore, something he was trying to fix. His sponsor suggested that life could be worth living if you find something meaningful to live for.

Besides surviving or being a living breathing weapon.

At first, the staring was for more "primal" reasons, but it soon turned to him admiring how gracefully you could move. How sharp your movements were. The clean movements were mesmerizing and very distracting. It certainly didn't help that you were pretty either. But every time you stopped and turned back towards the windows, Leon would turn away immediately. Scared you'd think he was some kind of weirdo or worse...

A pervert.

You were probably way too prissy for him anyway. Why bother window shopping?

You're too pure, jumping around in white satin ballet slippers and him in bulletproof vests with tactical gear. Your worlds can never mix, you're too different. Far too different.

So, with his better judgment, Leon got into the habit of changing his routine and getting up at the crack of dawn like in his army days. Just to go workout first thing in the morning. Leaving the gym as you were coming in.

But one morning you didn't come in as he was leaving. And as usual, he stops at his mailbox, fishing in his jacket pocket as he walks into the main lobby.

And there you were. Stood in front of the mailboxes, sorting through a few envelopes with your tiny mailbox door hung open.

Shit... This is gonna be awkward.

Leon approaches slowly, walking up to his mailbox and ripping his keys out of his jacket pocket. Something round flies out of his pocket with a clatter as it hits the floor. You lift your head to see the green chip rolling across the floor, quickly you step past him and pin it under your shoe.

Leon stares, realizing he forgot to take his chip out of his pocket after his meeting last night. Too tired from a long day at work to remember before passing out in bed as soon as he got home. He can feel his neck heating up, he hasn't even said a single word to you, and now you'll know he's an alcoholic trying to get his life together.

And he's sweaty and gross?!

What a fantastic first meeting...

You bend down, grabbing the green chip from the floor as you walk back. Giving it a glance, you hold it out for him. Slowly he raises his hand, chest tightening as he nods a “Thank You” while taking it.

"90 days is a big accomplishment, you should be proud of yourself." He stared for a moment, fully expecting a dirty look or pity.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I-I am." His lips drew to a line as you walked back around him, shutting your mailbox and locking it. He gives you a glance as you grab your bag from the floor and give him a small smile.

"You're from 3D, right?" You question, his eyes glance at his mailbox, his lips part slightly. Brain trying to process how you knew his apartment without even talking to him.

"Yes?" His eyebrows raised, your eyes fixed on his uneasy response.

"Hmm." She looks him up and down, almost like she's trying to size him up. Or even taken him in completely.

"A little scruffy for my taste, but you'll get the job done." His nose wrinkled as you stepped past him, and headed for the door.

"The hell do you mean by that?" You turned your attention back to him, smiling again.

"The old ladies in the building, they talk about everyone. Well, anyone interesting at least. And they said you're pretty cute. I'd have to agree." He feels his neck burning again, embarrassment of another kind seeping into his collarbone and rising to his cheeks as he smiles a tiny bit.

He was never great with women.

"Thank you..." He clutches the chip in his hand, running his thumb across the bumped out embossing of the metal.

"And um... I know we don't know each other," you step forward again, gesturing to his hands, "but I'm here if you ever need to be talked down... 3 years for me, still have my bad days, but it gets easier with time. I promise."

He looks a little surprised, not expecting you to know his struggles in some way. He just nods, watching you lean to the side, looking behind him and turning back to leave again.

"Congratulations again on 90 days, Leon." You smile, pushing the door open.

"Whoa, wait. What's your-"

"2B!" You yell back without turning around, watching you leave through the doors leading to the gym. His head swivels, looking at the mailboxes. Seeing your name printed a piece of tape stuck to your mailbox.

His mind wanders, thinking of you as he pulls his bills from his mailbox. A folded over flyer was wrapped around the envelopes. Pulling it off the envelope, he gave it a long look. Your face staring back at his as you're leaping in a beautiful flowing white dress and veil.

Giselle printed in fancy font under you pointed toes along with show times for next weekend.

Staring for a second, he thought, pondering over the words of his sponsor telling him to try new things.

Maybe he should try theater.

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sundains · 21 days

Text

valentine’s day

—leon finally starts to heal after he meets you in a grocery store, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i’ve had this idea in my head since i went to the LANY concert a month ago and heard this song live. i have not been the same person since, this drabble/blurb is dedicated to this song and leon. it’s a lot longer then i intended and i apologize lol

leon wasn’t one to heal easy.

not from his past, not from the missions when he saw more gore and blood then he wanted to. not when he had gagged every time he saw blood from that point foreword.

he was still healing when he walked into a grocery store about four months after his last mission. he was still healing when he grabbed one of those stupid baskets to carry your groceries in through the store.

he grabbed a couple bottles of alcohol, some snacks and some soap. essentials, things he needs. because sleeping without alcohol now is…it’s a lot harder then it used to be. just nightmares and images of bloodshed — he just says fuck it. he gets what he needs, what he wants and he goes up to the front of the store to pay.

what he doesn’t understand, when he sees you for the first time, is why your working in a grocery store of all places. your too beautiful for that, you should be doing something better, something worthy of your time. he doesn’t know a single thing about you yet and he’s willing to draw that conclusion.

you smile kindly at people from behind your register, your voice is kind and sweet. it draws something within him like a magnet, his heart is pounding, he’s going to explode or something. he used to be so good at talking to women but it’s declined as the years have gone by. he’s gotten tired, he just didn’t care like he used to.

he awkwardly sits his basket down on the conveyor belt of the register, you catch his eye and smile a little and it fucking does something to him. he knows he’s screwed beyond relief at that point. he smiles back, or tries to. he’s out of practice on that to, can’t remember the last time he’s smiled.

“this all for you?” you say softly, your eyes scanning over the bottles of alcohol, the snacks and the bottle of soap. he nods and chuckles a little, low and deep, just like his voice. “yeah, that’s all…” he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket of his jeans.

he wish he could say something better, something more positive and just something to grab your attention. he searches his brain as you tell him the total and he hands you the card. but he doesn’t have to say anything, you speak first.

“leon? that’s…you have a nice name.” you say and it snaps him out of his brain, he blinks those devastating blue eyes. ones that were once full of life, he nods. “my mom gave it to me.” he jokes lamely, or at least he thinks it’s lame until he hears your small little giggle.

he feels his heart beat with more confidence and energy now, like his one effort at making you smile is good enough. making you laugh is worth enough. you hand him his card back and put the receipt in the shopping bag, telling him to have a great day. not a nice day like you did with the others, but a great day. like you could tell he needed to hear that.

he walks out of the grocery store with the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. one that he has been a stranger to for months. he has you to thank for that.

the weeks that followed he came back to the grocery store, once maybe sometimes three times a week if he wasn’t sent off on a mission. he almost can’t help himself, he likes talking to you when your there.

you make him feel something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. it’s almost ridiculous, but he can’t help himself, it’s like an addiction. but it doesn’t involve him waking up with a hangover.

he keeps coming, week after week and buying things from the grocery store just to talk to you, just to see your sweet face. just to give him some kind of ray of sunshine that casts his whole body in a warm glow. making his heart beat faster.

but today was different, he was going to ask you out today. he was going to do it, he couldn’t be scared anymore. he couldn’t let you pass by anymore like something rare and just ignore you.

you were something to him. even if you didn’t even know that yet.

he walked up, carrying the same five things he always grabbed. his heart was pounding wildly, he was so out of practice but he just had to get out there and do it. just give himself something, he would hope you would say yes.

he put the items on the conveyor belt and waited until it was his turn, you finished checking out the customer in front of him and then turned to look at him. “hi stranger, haven’t seen you in awhile.” you say with a small frown, it’s adorable, it makes his heart melt.

he chuckles and shakes his head, “didn’t know you missed me.” he muses as he watches you start scanning his stuff. slowly and methodically almost as if you wanted this interaction to last longer too.

you sigh and shake your head, “of course i did, your my favorite customer.” you say with a small smile, and if he wasn’t looking so intently at you, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle blush on your cheeks.

“i better be. goodness knows i give you guys enough business.” he chuckles playfully and flashes you a grin, almost as bright as the sun. he didn’t know where he was willing this confidence from, maybe it’s because he needed you. he needed you to at least attempt to be with him. you were the first light he has had in his life in a long time.

you scan his last item and he realizes it’s now or never, “26.73” you say as you lay out your hand for the card so he can pay. he reaches into his wallet and gives it to you, your fingers brush against each other. he wills himself to do it, to just do it now.

“uhm, i actually…i have a question for you.” he says with a small tremble of his hands, keeping his eyes on you to gauge your reaction behind the register. you look back up at him, swiping his card. “yeah?” you say and he could swear there’s almost hopefulness in your voice.

he swallows all the nerves down and attempts to keep himself calm enough to get this out, he can’t screw this up. he cannot screw you up, he would never forgive himself if he did.

“do you want to go out with me? like on a date?” he says and it’s so weird, the words feel foreign as they slipped from his mouth. usually women used to flock to him, but they didn’t anymore. his confidence with women had slipped right along with him trying to be sober all the time.

you blinked at him, holding onto his card in your small but intricate fingers. you seem to be thinking it over, weighing your options. he feels like the rejection is going to slip out of your lips at any given moment and he’s preparing himself for it.

then eventually, you respond, “i’d love to.”

now, it’s his turn to gawk and blink at you, almost perplexed that you are actually saying yes, accepting him and accepting this date. he can’t help the smile on his face, it’s almost stupid. you hand him the card and his brain goes on autopilot. you hand him the bag of his stuff, he grabs it and goes to walk away.

until, “wait! you forgot your receipt!” you yell behind him, holding up a slip of paper and waving it. he turns around and walks back to the register, his brows furrowed. you never gave him a receipt, he grabs the slip of paper from your fingers. he reads it over with confusion until he sees your number at the bottom, your hand writing and scribbles drawn with a little heart next to it.

he smiles, another genuine one that only you could conjure onto his face. “text me, we can set up a date.” you say to him, nodding towards the receipt. you look just as giddy as he feels inside. he nods, “absolutely. will do.”

he texts you the minute he gets home. and you respond. the texts keep going between you two until you both eventually settle on a date to go out. your both feeling like love-struck teenagers, so entranced with each other it’s almost borderline disgusting.

the week after you set the date passes and neither of you can hardly wait. you both have your reasons for being nervous, you both have that joy when you see each other but it shines in a different way. especially when he picks you up for your guy’s date.

you look stunning. stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it for him. you look like if heaven was a person, like an angel. that’s good enough reason for him to not let his blue eyes break from you all night.

and they don’t, they don’t ever break. not one second, he keeps his gaze on you at dinner, when your both talking and flirting aimlessly with each other. to leon, it feels good to have that someone; even if they don’t know it yet. that lights up their world and just makes it so much better.

he doesn’t break his gaze when you two walk by the lake, showing him all the birds and where they nest when winter comes closer. he admires the way you talk about small things, things that other people wouldn’t normally talk about or care about for that matter. but you took time, every week, to come feed the ducks and birds at this lake.

and he doesn’t break his gaze when he walks you back to your place, low intimate whispers that turn into slow kisses and touches. it doesn’t turn frantic, it just stays slow and gentle. it’s loving and it almost wants to make leon cry, because you care so much, this kiss just proves it.

because for the first time in a long time, you make him feel cared for. you make him feel wanted and it’s so much to him that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

he wants you forever, he wants you as long as you let him have you. and he’s always going to take care of you, just like you’ve unknowingly taken care of him. taken the sadness away from him by just being in his life.

three months later, you and leon were dating.

you guys were the happiest people, it seemed you brought leon back from the edge. he opened up and you learned all you could about him. he got to learn more about you. and you both loved the idea of having that one confidant in each other.

the one you would have when you were sad, scared, angry, frustrated, etc. everything made sense with the two of you together. and you guys found that one piece that was missing within each of you. you guys were happy, leon was smiling a lot more then he usually did.

he didn’t drink his days away anymore, he didn’t come back from missions to an empty apartment and he didn’t have nightmares. it was still there but you dulled the ache, you filled that dark hole inside of him that had been gone for so long.

you made him happier, you made him recognize the man in the mirror again with your love. your love and everything about you made him better. he was better for you.

you had each other to soothe the gaps and ridges of your guys souls that were jagged. you had that thing that he was searching for, that he’d been missing for so long.

he loved you.

and nothing was ever going to change that.

an: i love you guys sm :,) thank you guys for reading my stuff and engaging. i was so worried when i started writing on tumblr that it wasn’t going to take. that no one would like my writing and i was wrong. you guys have given me so much support in liking my fics. it makes me so happy to have that support. it keeps me going. i love you all, i’ll be posting a one shot soon, keep up on my requests. pls reblog if you enjoyed, you guys know the drill. kisses, xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim (to join the taglist DM me or interact with my link at the beginning)

427 notes · View notes

sundains · 21 days

Text

In Ink, Unsaid - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

Your knight is appointed to tutor you, and he falls asleep during your lesson. It leads to a cute interaction involving his hair.

hell yeah finally got this out!! this one's a lot longer than the first part, i pray it ain't too wordy LOL. once again art by me and hope y'all enjoy!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, mutual pining, almost a Leon character study. It's a little more romantic this time.

1, 2

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't think you've ever seen Leon make a mistake. It unsettles you a little, how much composure and perfection he seems to uphold. You tend to watch him a lot because of it, growing a strange compulsion to always have your eyes on him.

Whenever you see him through a window while passing by, the sight of him slows you down a bit before you continue on your way. Whenever he walks past the room you're in, your eyes dart to his figure on impulse, trying to take in as much information as you can before he's out of your sight. Leon walks too fast, you find yourself thinking a lot.

Paradoxically, when you're close enough to actually see his face, you find yourself unable to look at him. You try to, but he's already staring at you, and he never looks away first, so you do. Whenever you look at him, his eyebrows raise slightly, like he thinks you want something from him when you do. The pressure from it is surprisingly crushing, so you simply cannot imagine holding eye contact with Leon for more than two seconds.

This strange fascination of yours with your new knight has materialized itself in the form of behaviors that might align themselves with a stalker's. You've drunken in all the little details about him. You recognize the sound of his footsteps, the dent in his left vambrace, since he tends to guard his body with that arm, and the moles on his knuckles. Since you can't look at his face when he's actually near you, you've taken to staring at his hands or his feet. He rarely ever shifts his weight between each leg, even if he's been standing for a long time. It makes you more conscious of how you carry yourself... Speaking of posture, he tends to tilt his head to the right slightly when he rests.

Rest and any of its synonyms are words you'd rarely use to describe anything related to Leon. The most you'd seen him do something as relaxed as resting, was that night he sat by your bed till the thunderstorm passed.

So how do you know his habits when he rests? Shockingly, he's doing it right now, in front of you, during your first tutoring session together.

His eyes were rather bloodshot and dull when he entered the library, a feigned intensity in them like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't tired. He knows you notice, but you don't ask about it, and he seems to be glad you did.

"...This arrangement is rather unorthodox, is it not?" You ask as he sits down across from you.

Leon puffs out a little breath, not enough to be a sigh, but noticeable enough. You are unsure if it is out of annoyance.

"I suppose so, my lady, but your mother was the one who appointed me to tutor you today."

You frown a little. It's not like you disliked Leon at all, but you tend to find him a little too... tense to be around. He seems so structured and confident and it makes you afraid to make mistakes around him... Besides that, he's got a really intense stare that doesn't fare well with your nervous composition.

"...Do you dislike having me as your tutor, my lady?" He queries, the faintest hint of doubt and dejection in his voice.

"I–" You try to start, but he cuts you off, "It's not meant to be taken in any personal manner, my lady, but..." He takes in a sharp inhale, realizing he interrupted you and maybe stepped over a line. Leon pauses and watches you carefully, waiting to see if your expression will contort or if you'll start to reprimand him.

...You just avert your eyes, so he continues.

"Perhaps you'd fare better with someone you were more comfortable with... my lady."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm rather alright, Sir Leon. I apologize for complaining."

"Forgive me for pushing, my lady, but you always feel rather tense around me. Is that for any particular reason? Perhaps I could help."

"I, uh..." Your gaze falls to your lap, "I'm just not sure why mother chose you. Your schedule is rather full as it is, is it not, Sir Leon?"

"Well, I can promise you I'm very well-educated, my lady." He says, but as he observes, it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves.

"...Spending more time with you is always a pleasure to me, my lady. I promise that to you too."

That wrinkle between your eyebrows soften, and your shoulders drop.

Leon does surprisingly well as a tutor. You suppose it's because of his rugged impression that you thought the opposite, but even the way he speaks is well-constructed and seems to have been planned in advance.

If your mother had never appointed Leon as your tutor today, you'd never have really noticed how calming his voice can be. Whenever he's spoken, it always sounded like a command, even if he's trying his best to be respectful. His voice usually comes off too strong, too deep in his chest, too loud sometimes, too much authority. Usually you tend to shrink in your skin a little whenever he speaks, but now, he sounds so relaxed that you feel like he could lull you to sleep at any moment.

Ah– it seems he's beat you to the chase, though.

It took you a little too long to notice, but Leon has fallen asleep in front of you, cheek resting against his right fist and his left hand still resting on the book's page.

You freeze up, not wanting to do anything that'd wake him up. You understand that a tutor falling asleep in front of a student would be highly inappropriate, but you still felt that it would be rude to wake him. Is he a light sleeper? You wonder how exhausted he must be to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable situation, and it makes your heart ache.

He's breathing lightly, you wait a bit, see if he'll wake up on his own. Maybe it's just your own excuse to watch him while you can.

His eyelashes are a lot longer than you thought, and you don't think you've ever seen him without that crease between his brows, and an almost-scowl on his lips. Leon's hair was of a color and style that confused you. Some days it felt brown, sometimes it was blond, or something in between. You've convinced yourself it depended on his mood or the weather. As for the length... the fringe always seemed to obscure his eyes slightly, so you've always wondered why he didn't just cut it. Especially when he wears his helmet, and he makes a bit of a fuss when his bangs get pinned underneath his visor.

Unconsciously, you've been reaching forward to brush away the strand of hair hanging in front of his nose, hoping to get a better look of his face.

Leon's eyes flutter open, his pupils adjusting to the light before they dilate as they settle on you. Your arm flinches back to your side.

He mumbles your name, intimately, no honorifics or titles, and your face warms.

"I– Leon– Sir Leon, hello," You breathe out shakily, "You fell asleep."

The message takes a few seconds to reach his just-woken-up brain, before his eyes widen and he immediately sits up properly.

Words come spilling out of his mouth, this is the first time you've seen him stutter. "I'm so sorry– I'm incredibly sorry, my lady, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, I don't know why I dared to do such a thing, and why I keep making mistakes today–"

"Leon."

He bites on his tongue and his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at you.

"...It's alright, I promise."

The tips of his ears are a bright red, and that same flush seems to be creeping up from under his shirt collar to his neck. He takes in a few deep breaths, and he looks unsure. This is the second time you've seen him wear this look now. He takes in a deep breath.

"I... I apologize, my lady." He bows his head towards you. The roots of his hair were a deeper brown compared to the rest of his locks. You wonder if he's not even a real blond. Perhaps hours of staying under the sun lightened his hair.

You space out staring at him, and Leon straightens his neck. He can't recall maintaining eye contact with you for this long, and it makes his abdomen feel warm, even if he knows you're not really all there.

"My lady?"

You finally blink, and at the realization your blank-eyed gaze settled on him, your eyes widen and you immediately look elsewhere. You decide to rest your sight on his hands.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?" His fingers twitch, slightly restless.

"I... What makes you say that, Sir Leon?"

"You've been eyeing the top of my head for a while. I felt your hand near my face while I was waking up, as well, my lady."

Your heart skips a beat, and the way your blink catches for a second and the way you seem to choke on your spit isn't missed by the knight-now-tutor across from you.

"I-It's quite alright, my lady." He rushes out, his heart dropping at that look on your face. He's not even sure what's "alright", but he just wanted to offer you any bit of comfort so things don't escalate, in the fear he was too forward with confronting you.

He remembers the musings of his fellow knights about his hair, about how could he see with all that bother, how it could get in the way during combat, or how it just looked a little funny. Truth be told, his hair was the result of continuously forgetting to go get a haircut because he fixated so much on work, but now he keeps it out of spite. Leon insists he can do perfectly fine to anyone who says otherwise, but if it's you...

Leon breathes in slightly, and his hands move away from your line of vision. You follow them, and he's pushing his fringe back as much as he can. He's trying to tuck it behind his ears, and it almost makes you laugh, how gentle the gesture is, then you realize how beautiful he actually looks. Your cheeks warm, and you cannot look away.

"Is this better, my lady?" He asks, strangely demure in his demeanor.

You chuckle, and his heart soars at the noise, "You missed a spot." you comment, before your hand raises for a second, nearing his face.

"Ah– May I?"

"Of course, my lady." The devotion leaking from his voice is punctuated by the mole on his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

Your fingers are slightly shaky as they clear the few strands of hair he couldn't pin back. The pads of your fingers graze his forehead, and he takes in a sharp breath. Physical contact between you two was relegated to holding onto his hand when he assisted you, and nothing more, so he wasn't a stranger to it. So he can't really understand why such a tiny act has such an effect on him.

You sit back, properly look at him, and smile. He feels slightly shy under your scrutiny, but he hopes you find him good-looking at the very least. He does have the face to pull off shorter hair, but something about it felt like you were seeing him naked. He felt under-decorated without his fussy hair.

"Mm... I think you look best just as you are."

Leon breathes out a little laugh accompanied by the toothiest smile you've seen on him thus far, which really isn't much, but it comes off just as endearing. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear as his eyes turn into happy crescents. Adoration is dancing around in his pale blue irises, and in the reflection of his dilated pupils, it's only you.

"Thank you, my lady... It makes me happy to hear that."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

375 notes · View notes

sundains · 21 days

Text

"Cheesy" Leon Kennedy x Reader

(A/N: What if you were set up on a blind date with Leon Kennedy? This is extremely self indulgent. You could picture any age of Leon, I guess. Also, Reader works at a school in this.

Warnings: awkward/nervous interactions, use of (Y/N), (mx), and (Y/L/N) for your names, pizza topping preference for cheese, language, and mentions of Leon’s arms.

Word Count: 4,085 words)

~~~

Your friend knew people, could network like no other.

But set you up on a blind date?

You were anxious. Curious, but nervous at the thought of going on a first date with someone you had never met.

Your friend knew you well enough. Knew some of your preferences in a partner. A good amount.

You hoped.

They had gotten your permission to try finding someone.

“Stop giving me that look.” Your friend laughed. “I’ve only heard good things.” They sipped from their cup of coffee.

“Only good things?” You asked.

They crossed their arms. Staring at you from the other side of the table.

“Well, I mean…like what? What’s his name? What’s he look like? Does he know my name?”

They laughed and nodded. “He knows your name.”

“And?” You leaned over your lunch.

“He has a steady job, his name is Leon, he’s interested, and you’ll like what you’ll see. That’s all I’m saying.”

“But is he nice? Clean?”

“Yes and listen, I basically asked fifty question before fully considering this guy. And he had agreed to the pizza place you suggested.”

“Oh. Okay, cool.”

“Everything’s set for Saturday.” They beamed.

You exhaled hoping to calm yourself from the news.

Maybe this’ll be fun.

. . .

Saturday afternoon and the lunch rush was on its way.

Thankfully, you managed to arrive early. You could not think of arriving to your destination any later.

Nerves and excited curiosity filled you.

The pizza was one of your favorites. Kind staff, good food, and a chill atmosphere. A nice small restaurant for a date. Nothing fancy and you would be able to hear your own conversation.

At least I picked a Saturday, you thought, Friday evenings are wild. Especially right after school.

Entering through the front door, you did a quick glance around the small waiting area. The smell of fresh pizza was a welcome delight.

Definitely not them, you thought as you watched two families trying to shush their children. Probably waiting on someone.

Squeezing by, you walked up to the server station. The little podium looking thing no one was standing behind.

You waited a moment.

And breathe. This isn’t a job interview or anything.

Running your hands over your clothes, you were still happy with your choice of outfit. A flattering soft of casual.

“Hi. Welcome,” a young woman rushed up to stand behind the station. “Sorry for the wait. How many today?”

“Two,” you said. “I’m meeting someone.”

A flicker of thought shown in her eyes and she asked, “Are you (Y/N)?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” You answered, clearly surprised.

“Is your date’s name Leon?” A small smile peaked the corners of her lips.

“Yeah…”

I thought they didn’t do reservations.

She walked around the station and gestured toward the dining room. “Right this way, please.”

Wait. Can I pick for a booth or somewhere not by the restrooms? Who would make the reservation? You thought as you followed her.

A good amount of the tables had hungry guests chewing between conversations. None too obnoxious.

Still, the woman led you forward, blocking some of your view.

You were starting to get the feeling you weren’t early enough.

Coming to a stop by a booth, the young woman turned enough to speak to you and a man who stood up upon your arrival.

“Here we are. Do you know what you two would like to drink or should I give you a minute?”

Locking gazes with the man, you swallowed.

You really wished your friend would had told you how handsome your date was.

You blinked and answered, “Ice water.”

“Uh, water, please.” He said and cleared his throat.

You caught the server’s smirk.

“All right. I’ll give you some time to look over the menu and I’ll be back.” She left with her notepad.

The last window along the wall illuminated the man’s brown hair and expressive blue eyes.

“I’m Leon,” he said and offered a small smile, “hi.”

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you.” You gave a smile of your own and a small wave you wished you hadn’t.

“Yeah—uh. I’m glad we could do this.” Leon glanced over to the booth and gestured quickly.

The both of you took your seats across from each other. Two menus lay on the table between.

Maybe he’s nervous too.

“So,” Leon tapped the menu, “I have to ask… What’s your favorite topping?”

“Not pineapple.”

“Oh, good,” he chuckled, exhaling some tension. “I wasn’t sure if we were going to have a debate on our hands.”

“I hope not. I’ve always preferred extra cheese. You?”

“I’m not too picky. I like pepperoni. We could—”

“One water and one ice water.” The server placed each glass on its own paper coaster. “Do you know what you’d like to order?”

Crap. You thought and eyed the menu.

“Would you like to share a pizza?” Leon asked. “Half cheese half pepperoni?” His blue eyes holding a soft kindness within.

Here come the butterflies. You took a steady breath and nodded.

“What size?” She asked, holding her tiny notepad.

“Medium?” You looked to Leon.

“Medium.” He agreed while glancing over to the server’s notepad.

“Alright.” She tapped her pen.

“Thank you.” You said as the server left again and took the menus.

That was fast.

Taking a long sip of the water, you were grateful for the coolness. A nice refresh to ease you and cool you down.

Because your date was hot. Simple as that and yet you were still taking time to process the fact: you were on a date.

No weird vibes. That’s good. You thought as you set the glass down. And he got here before me! Peering up, you saw your date glancing around the dining room.

When he caught you looking, Leon smiled. “This place is nice. Do you come here often?”

His words made you crack a smile. “A little bit. Not as often as I used to.” You lowered your voice and added, “I usually make my own pizza now.”

Lighting up with interest, Leon leaned his arms on the table. Quite muscular arms shown well with his button-up shirt.

“You make your own pizza? It’s better than any takeout, huh?”

“Not gonna lie,” you sat a little taller, “the dough’s a lot better and no grease on top.”

“Sauce preference?”

“Family recipe. Homemade.”

Leon grinned. Clearly you were making an impression.

The butterflies in your stomach returned tenfold.

“Favorite cheese?”

You crossed your arms over the table and thought on it. “My favorite cheese…is whatever I have at home.”

That earned you a snicker from your date.

“Have you made pizza before?” You tried your hand at a question.

Food was an easy topic it seemed. Pizza mostly.

Hair shielded some of his face as he tilted his head, Leon squinted his face and admitted, “I’ve made pizza orders.”

“So, no?”

“No.” He affirmed. “I should.”

“Maybe one day.”

He nodded softly.

So far, Leon was easy to talk to. Your date thus far would rank less awkward than talks you’ve had with overly curious neighbors. You were more than grateful for that.

And he has a really cute smile. You thought as silence filled the table.

“How are you?”

“What?” Leon perked up as if the question caught him completely off guard.

Perhaps it did.

“How are you?” You asked again, trying to put all of your honesty into your tone.

Exhaling, he turned his sights out the window, but only for a moment. “Better than I expected.” His blue eyes held your gaze. “I’ve never been convinced to go on a blind date before.”

You were surprised with how relieved you were with his answer.

“This is your first blind date too?” You whispered.

Both of you took a moment to read the other. Making sure and double checking. Learning through observation.

Once Leon nodded, you sat back with a relieved exhale.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought it was just me. My friend wouldn’t even answer all my questions.” You laughed lightly at yourself. “I’ve been making myself nervous.”

“Is that a rule?” Leon asked. “My friends refused to tell me shit.”

Covering your mouth, you muffled some of your laughter. Mostly, anyway.

Sitting back against the seat with a light affectionate smile, Leon managed to look twice as handsome and twice as comfortable. It made you start to wonder why he didn’t already have a partner.

Then again, he was probably having a similar question.

“What questions did you ask? No judgement.”

“No judgement.” He repeating, thinking.

Bring it on. We need to know more about each other. More than just pizza anyway, you thought while drinking more water and waiting for the pizza.

“Yah know, I asked what you’re like first. It’s a good start.”

“Good question.” You said, partially stalling as you thought to answer. “I’m…a hard worker, creative, uh…,” you trailed off. “I sound like my résumé.”

He smiled and said, “I won’t ask for references. Promise.”

“I’m really honest and empathic. I make a lot of movie references. My friends say I’m funny, but that’s really based on preference…and timing.”

“I believe them.”

“Thank you.” You wiped your hands on your attire, out of sight. “So what were your other questions?”

“What do you do for a living?”

You perked up. Glad to have an easy question. “I work at a school.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction.

“I’m essentially in charge of the media center—all the books, book faire, and some tech. It’s not what I planned, but I like it.”

“Do you like to read?”

“Yeah. My reading list keeps growing though. Not that I mind.” You said, noticing how his hair framed his face, a balance of soft and sharp. “What about you?”

Blue eyes flickered away. “Not really. Work takes up a lot of time.” Leon seemed to be drifting away, mind elsewhere.

“What do you do for a living?” You asked softly, just in case.

Tension in his jaw fully took away his smile.

Is this a touchy subject?

Leon’s voice was hushed and somehow almost distant. “I work for the government.”

“Oh.”

Returning his gaze to you, Leon gauged your reaction.

“Sounds like a lot of e-mails.” You tried lightening the mood.

I don’t think he likes his ‘steady job’.

The corner of his lips lifted.

Okay cool. He doesn’t think what I said was stupid. Cool.

“Well, um,” you swallowed and hoped you weren’t being too awkward, “as long as your co-workers treat you like a person and not tech support.”

Multiple emotions ran across Leon’s face, none of which you could read fast enough. What you could discern was how the tension left his muscles. A mystery really, your date.

“I’m not the first one they’d call to help with a computer.”

“Maybe for good company?” You offered.

In midst of leaning closer, Leon’s attention veered over to movement at the far end of the dining room.

Walking into the room with a pan in one hand and a tray under her other arm, your server returned with another employee. Steam rose from the pizza more clear as she reached the booth.

“Here we are.” She announced happily.

Before either you or Leon could offer help, the young woman set up the tray beside the table in a swift motion.

“Be careful. It’s hot.” She set the pizza pan on the tray.

The other employee placed a pair of plates on the table along with a pizza server and a pile of napkins.

A couple of ‘thank you’s later and you were both left alone with a delicious smelling pizza. Seriously, the two of you were eyeing the pie with hungry intent.

“That smells good.” Leon grabbed the pizza server and reached over to the pizza. “One cheese pizza slice comin’ up.” A playful side shone through easily.

“Thank you,” you said as he plated a slice.

Oh, no. He’s cute, you thought, glad he didn’t see whatever silly grin was plastered on your face.

Out of habit or restaurant routine, you grabbed the shaker of cheese. You took a second to make sure the lid was secure. Then, despite the hot cheese all over the wonderful slice, you shook a generous amount of parmesan on top and a dash more.

You hadn’t lied about favoring cheese.

And apparently you and your date were equally craving a taste of pizza. By bite number two your eyes met for a second.

Trying to hide a smile while chewing was an oddly clumsy human act. Awkward during a date, but humble none the less.

Behind you and out of view, children spoke animatedly entering the dining room. Kid drama and discussing characters. Common conversations held even in school. You had heard plenty from students. Some more entertaining than others.

You took another bite of the pizza.

“(mx). (Y/L/N),” a young voice came from close by.

Quickly swallowing, you glanced over to a familiar face.

“Hi,” the little girl waved, perched backwards in a chair.

You gave a friendly wave with your free hand. A movement watched by the child and her two tables’ worth of family members.

So was the life of working at an elementary school.

The girl pointed and asked, “Is he your friend?” Curious eyes on your date.

Behind the girl, a woman looked at the girl with wide eyes and glanced to you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry.” She said. “Lottie, turn around please.”

“I finished the book.”

“That’s great,” you replied earnestly. “I hope you liked it.”

“Kinda.”

“Oh,” you chuckled lightly. “Well, I hope you like your food more.”

Grinning, Lottie, sat properly in her seat. All attention reverting to whatever was just passed her nose; her family included.

“Sorry about that.” You turned to see your date with an amused expression.

“No need. Thought she was going to give you review.”

“Same here.” You reached for your pizza slice again. “I think hers was about cats or kittens. Something.”

“Are there any books you’d recommend to someone who doesn’t read much?”

Now that was a question you liked to hear.

“Are you more into fiction or non-fiction books?”

“Fiction.” He took a sip from his water.

“Hmm.” You were left with more questions of his preferences. “I think I need to know a bit more about you first before I can recommend one just yet.”

“Fair enough. Ask away.” Leon finished off a slice and grabbed himself another.

“Okay. Are you an outdoor person?”

“Some days more than others.”

You took another bite of pizza.

“Some times I just want to stay inside. Don’t have to worry about weather or animals.”

“Are you an animal person? I mean—do you like animals?” You shut yourself up with another bite.

“I do. They just live their lives. Unless some…someone leaves a trap out.” A seriousness made his gaze on the table firm.

“Some people are real jerks.”

“Yeah.” He took a quick bite.

“Morning person or night owl?”

“Night owl. When I don’t have to be up early.”

“Sunrises are pretty, but sleep is really nice.”

“You a night owl?”

“Yup. Forced to wake up super early for work. Then go, go, go. No wonder so many people drink coffee.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“I prefer not to make it a necessity to staying awake. I see people drinking it throughout the day. I can’t imagine doing that. There’s other ways to get energy.”

“Food.”

“Exactly.”

“Want another slice?” Leon asked, pizza server in hand.

“Sure, thank you.”

“Can’t let someone as hard-working and cute as you go hungry.”

He plated the slice onto your plate as you felt heat start at your neck.

“Thank you.” Your voice almost hushed in sound.

Small smile on his lips, Leon handed you the shaker full of cheese. The tips of his fingers brushed yours before retreating to his pizza.

Crap. What were we talking about? You swallowed and added more cheese to your new pizza slice.

“So, uh… How would you describe yourself?”

Leon thought on it for a moment or two, eating pizza. Dark eyebrows pinching together as he considered an answer.

Honestly, you deeply needed to know what Leon was like. To know if he was friend material and more.

Shifting in his seat, Leon answered, “Loyal to ones I care about. A little too hard-working.”

“Dedicated?”

“Yeah.” He ripped off a piece of the pizza crust. “Helpful, protective… This is a hard question.”

“It is.”

“I try to be optimistic.” He added.

“That’s good. Some times it’s really hard. Even on what’s suppose to be a good day. It’s a part of life. Some days suck and others surprise you in a good way.”

A silent exchange of understanding passed between the pair of you, deep and dense.

Slices of pizza slowly disappeared from the pan as the date continued more strongly. Less awkward and more fun. Bouncing questions back and forth while being a little too honest with answers. Laughter really was contagious.

Time passed well into the lunch rush and the two of you remained in the booth. Sharing and reminiscing taste in music and movies continued longer than some people’s stay in the dining room.

A conversation of one specific movie had you two in a passionate exchange of words. Both leaning close and speaking animatedly.

“And people probably think we’re only looking at the decorations to call it a Christmas movie.”

“They’re not use to action in Christmas movies,” Leon added.

“Only the family drama.”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s a part of why it’s a Christmas movie. They’re apart in the beginning, they work through their problems, and—bam—they’re together in the end with better understandings of each other.”

“And it ends with Christmas music. It’s great.”

“She also punched the reporter guy.”

“He had it coming.”

“Kind of satisfying. Not gonna lie.”

Leon chuckled.

“Okay,” you spoke up. “Random question.”

He nodded.

“Can you speak more than one language?”

“Sí.”

“Bueno.” You smirked along with him.

Eyes roaming the sight in front of you, you tried not to be distracted by what of Leon’s muscles you could see defined from his nice shirt. It wasn’t even tight fitting. Plus it was a nice color on him.

Does he have to workout for his job? Or is he the best looking in the building by chance? You thought as you reached for your glass of water, condensation cool against your fingertips.

Until it wasn’t.

“No.”

The glass fumbled from your grasp and the last of the melted ice water spilled onto your thigh.

“Whoa.” Leon already had napkins in his hand as he leaned over the table. “You okay?”

“It’s cold.” You placed the glass down on the table firmly.

“I bet.” He replied sincerely.

Gratefully, you took the napkins and pressed them onto your leg as well as the seat to absorb as much moisture as possible. They worked as well as thin paper could. Fabric was just too absorbent.

“It’s mostly the side of my thigh. So it’s not too bad.”

“Glad you didn’t get a refill, huh?”

You looked up at him. “Definitely.”

Behind his blue eyes, a flash of disappointment emerged and he said, “You probably want to get going and be dry.” It almost sounded like a question.

“Probably.” Your words didn’t sound too convincing.

A small raise of his hand and Leon signaled over your server. “Hey, can we have two boxes to-go?”

“Sure.”

If you hadn’t been watching you would had missed him handing her the slim black bill folder. He must had slipped a card or cash in there when you weren’t paying attention. Leon was quick, you could give him that.

After the server walked away, you rose an eyebrow at him.

“What? Did you want the pepperoni too?”

“No…”

Shuffling in his seat slightly, he asked, “Do you mind that I paid?”

“More so that you didn’t say anything. I don’t want you thinking it’s what I expect or something. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. And it’s well notes for next time.”

“Next time?” You perked up. “Are you…wanting a second date?”

“I am.” Leon smiled confidently, hiding most of his nerves.

Your heart beat picked up in your chest.

He likes me? You thought in glee.

“Here we go.” The young woman returned with two descent sized containers. “Is there anything else I can help you two with?” She slid Leon a receipt folded around a card.

“No. I think we’re good.”

“Thank you.” He pocketed his wallet.

“No problem. Have a good day.”

“You too.” You replied to her retreating form.

The pair of you packaged the remaining slices into the containers. Each of you taking one.

Leon grabbed his jacket off of the booth. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You scooted out from the seat, suddenly more aware of the large wet patch on your thigh.

“Here.” Leon whispered from close behind you. He handed you his jacket. “Hold that there and no one will notice”

“Thank you.”

Grateful and a little flustered, you led the way out of the dining room with your date’s jacket draped over your arm. A shield in hiding your water accident. And that was not even a start of mentioning the man walking behind you. He wasn’t in your space, keeping a respectful distance. Yet you could sense his proximity.

Was it too much for you to consider him even an ounce protective? You weren’t sure.

Two steps away from the exit, Leon deftly slid by you to open the door and hold it for you.

“Thank you.” You stepped out onto the sidewalk and out of the way of the door.

How long were we in there? You wondered at the sight of full parking lot.

Leon came up beside you. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“True. Cheesy, but true.” You smiled and handed him back his jacket.

“From what I’ve seen, you like extra cheese.”

“Yeah, okay.” You walked further down the sidewalk.

Chuckling happily, Leon went alongside you.

Why did it feel like the date was too short for you?

There were so many more things you wanted to say.

“If it wasn’t for me being a klutz, I’d treat you to either the soft serve ice cream or the place with gelato in town.”

“A gelato and more time with you. That is a treat.” Leon flirted openly.

“So…about a second date.”

Stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, you looked to him with a flutter in your stomach. Luckily, you still had a good grip on your pizza box.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You ducked your head as a smile immediately appeared.

“Can I have your number so I can call you some time?”

“Only if I can have yours.” You pulled out your cell phone.

“Twist my arm,” he teased sarcastically.

After he fished his phone from his pocket, you both exchanged numbers. Immediately double checking afterwards.

“And I’m not weird with how long or how soon to contact the other person,” you stated. “That’s too complicated for me to keep up with.”

Stepping into the parking lot, you head towards your vehicle with Leon, not far from the building.

“Good to know.”

“And I really had a good time. So thank you.”

The features of his face softened. A twinkle in his eyes revealing his genuine relief and hope. Your words meant something to him.

“Thank you.” He shifted the jacket in his hold. “I wasn’t sure about any of this…until you showed up. I’m glad I came.” Shoulders raising, he made eye contact with you again. “I’d really like to see you again.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

“You can call me later. That way I can check my work-school calendar.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call you later.” He glanced at your vehicle. “Drive safe, (Y/N).”

“You too.”

He took a step back.

“And Leon?”

He paused, attentive.

“I’m really glad I came too.”

Fully grinning, Leon made his way to his own vehicle. Peeking over to you as he did so.

Why’d I have to be a klutz today?

Even if you had to shorten your time with your date, you were more than happy with how everything turned out. You couldn’t wait to see Leon again. Then, perhaps, you could recommend him a book too.

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

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sundains · 24 days

Text

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

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sundains · 26 days

Text

The Theories Of My World Revolving Around You

Bodyguard!RE4R!Leon x F!Popstar!Reader || Read previous: 1

Chapter 2: "Total Eclipse Of The Heart"

Leon woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up with his chest heaving. He swore he heard groaning and clicking somewhere in his apartment, just behind the closed door of his bedroom. Grabbing a shirt and the gun placed inside the safe of his closet, he carefully opened the door and pointed his gun at any noise he heard. He steps on something cold and slimy, a substance different from blood. He tries to move his foot away but the slime wouldn’t let his foot budge, keeping him stuck in that position. He can’t properly identify what that is due to all the lights in the hallway turned off, only a tiny sliver of moonlight peeking through a gap in his blackout curtains. Plop. Plop. Plop. Something from his ceiling is dripping, something both warm and cold though he only felt one liquid drip. He reaches to the back of his head, his finger having a feel of what this was; he points his damp finger towards the tiny sliver of light.

“Violet,” Leon breathily whispers as his fingertips rub together to get a better feel. He looks up and is met with the lifeless gaze of the gunshop owner’s daughter he met sometime 6 years ago, a licker using her face as a mask to taunt Leon.

“No!”

Leon shoots up, standing on shaky legs with a hand gripping his combat knife. His fearful gaze focuses on the darker corners of his room, occasionally tilting his head up to look for threats. His ears listen in for any clicking or groans but he’s only met with the low whirring of the AC. He takes his gun and walks around his apartment, looking up and down for any BOW. After triple checking, he walks into his bathroom and wets his face, only noticing now that he’s sweating so much. Walking into his room with a glass of water, he locks the door and places his weapons back to where he got them. He looks at the alarm clock by his bedside. 4:30 AM. With a tired sigh, he stretches his body a little more before he brews some coffee to get ready for his first day with a new task.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He fiddles with the watch on his wrist while waiting for his new client, constantly readjusting the collar of his shirt. The lack of proper sleep is putting him on edge and he thinks he’s going insane, worried that a licker like the one he saw in his dream is going to somehow burst into the room. Despite the storm brewing in his mind, he puts up a facade of being nonchalant and unaffected by anything. A knock snaps him out of his thoughts, followed by the turn of the door knob. Amidst the other men in suits, along with a woman in a sleek bun with a brown envelope in her arm, and then he sees you. You… you looked a lot more humble, in his opinion. He expected flashy hair, a flamboyant outfit, and neon everywhere but you’re a lot more… calm.

“Good morning, Agent Kennedy. I’m Agent Morgan, we’ve talked on the phone before,” Morgan says as he extends his hand towards Leon. Leon takes his hand and shakes it before settling back down on his seat, observing all the people with him in the room.

“Let’s get right to it, shall we? Agent, this is ‘Red String’, your client. You will be assigned to, well, guard her, drive her to and from where she’s needed, stand guard, accompany her to events, obstruct the view of paparazzi, and all that. We follow a schedule so work for you starts at 6 AM and ends whenever her day ends. Understood?”

Leon nods and takes notes of everything he has to do. He finds the job simple, a lot more simple than what he’s grown used to throughout the years. He stays silent for most of it since the questions he was about to ask were already answered later on. After a few hours of orientation, they finally sign documents and once more shake hands before Leon formally starts his day. He makes sure to open every single door for her, press elevator buttons, and obstruct her face from any camera like he’s been told to do; easy peasy.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The car ride is awkward, only the faint lyrics to a random song on the radio being the source of noise in the otherwise silent SUV.

“‘Red String’ huh,” you say. “Who came up with the code name?”

“Not sure. It was just assigned to you,” Leon responds. “Any issue with it?”

“I just sound like a used tampon,” you jokingly respond, which earns a light scoff from the blond in the driver seat. “Or bloody dental floss, whichever sounds better.”

Silence settles over you two again. He’s a man of few words, you figure, but he’s not that bad to be around so far. He’s thoughtful, placing one hand in the part of the entrance where you sometimes bump your forehead when getting inside even though that wasn’t part of the not-so-brief briefing.

“Well, can you call me by my name then?” you speak up. “I can’t,” Leon responds. “Protocol, though I don’t exactly understand why.”

“But, agent, you do know my name right?”

“Yes and uh, you can call me Leon.”

“Okay, Leon.”

The rest of the drive falls silent, that being the end of today’s conversation. Despite the image and persona you’ve established for yourself in the industry and scene, you’re not all that loud and outgoing and talkative. After a few turns and quick stops at a red light, Leon finally managed to bring you two to the studio to continue recording your song and for some vocal exercises for the rest of the day. For the next 12 hours, Leon will stand guard in the studio as you work for the day, which he doesn’t mind. 12 hours doing nothing is better than 12 hours spent fearing for his life and the life he’s been assigned to protect and bring home. Throughout his shift, the speakers occasionally play a beat with your voice as well as some lyrics you must’ve recorded before he took over as your guard. Pop isn’t exactly a genre Leon usually listens to, his personal preferences leaning more on Queen, Nirvana, AC/DC, or Radiohead but he has to admit that you’ve got catchy beats with a voice exuding raw talent to match it up. Soon, he’s bobbing his head along to the beat and is tapping on the ground with his dress shoes along to the tune of the song. He could definitely get used to this, free unreleased music everyday for as long as he’s working for you.

“Hey Leon!” you call out. He turns his head to you and gets up, walking over to the booth. “I just wanna ask your opinion on this part of the song, since I saw you head bang a little bit earlier.” You press a button on the board full of buttons, the song playing once more.

“I’m going to play three different renditions of the song. First one is heavy on electric guitar, second is more on bass guitar, and the third doesn’t have as much of the first two. I wanna ask your opinion on which sounds best.”

You push a slider, increasing the volume. He listens intently, admiring the wonderful blend of guitars, pianos, drums, and synth. You surely knew your way around creating catchy music, along with superb songwriting. After listening to all three, he finally made his decision.

“What type of sound are you going for?” he asks.

“Pop-rock with some synth,” you respond.

“I know this isn’t one of your options given but would it be possible to have a mix of the first two? With the electric guitar toned down so we can still hear the pop elements of the bass,” he offered. “Otherwise, I’d just decide on the second choice if my suggestion isn’t possible.”

You scribble on the notepad, humming the tune, and imagining the combined power of electric and bass guitars for the song. You like the idea so you consider it, jotting down things once more.

“Sounds good,” you comment. “I’ll take note.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The next following weeks are the same, fixing parts of the song, and adding some more things to make it much more funky. You find out that Leon has good taste in what makes a song catchy and dance-able, a song with guitars that pluck on strings that could make you bust a move or two. Despite the frequency of being close with one another, you two still haven’t quite reached the level of very close, not that Leon minds– he’s here to prove that he’s stable and ready to get back to active duty under the BOW protection division of USSTRATCOM, despite this little gig of his being a lot less boring than he thought. Even as he’s listening to music, he can’t help but hear the faint sounds of someone’s screams of horror as a licker rips them apart, feeling guilt that he’s living life while they can’t with theirs.

“Leon,” you repeat. “Leon. Did you hear what I said ?”

The blond snaps out of his thoughts, teleporting back inside the black SUV.

“Huh?”

“The light’s green.”

“Right. Sorry,” he apologizes before putting his foot to the pedal.

“You’re going to get you and her killed one of these days,” Leon quietly scolds himself. “You can’t space out on the road!”

The interface of the car’s center console flashes someone’s name and a random number, the ringing of the call drowning out the song playing in the radio previously. You peek from the passenger side, observing the number before hesitantly pressing on the button.

“Hello?” You quietly ask.

“Hi, good morning! I’m Cassandra Pierce–”

“Cassandra Pierce?,” Leon asks himself. The White House Social Secretary? Why’s she calling?

“– from the White House and I’m the social secretary. I’m in charge of event planning and organizing for the upcoming charity ball. May I ask if you’re free on the 16th?”

You look at Leon with a slightly confused look because what is a secretary from the White House doing, calling you? Sure you’re popular but it’s not everyday you receive calls from someone working there.

“Hold on a minute,” you say. You quickly open your phone, scrolling through calendars. “Yeah, I’m free on the 16th.”

“Amazing! I would like to ask if you’re free to perform for the charity ball on the 16th. I’ve contacted your managers and they all said you're free but still told me to call you personally.”

Your eyes widen, breath stuck in your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, Leon can see the visible shock on your face.

“Yes! Yes, I can,” you say with a small smile that still lit up your face.

“Okay! That’s great! To summarize, performance on the 16th and an invitation will be sent out within the day until tomorrow. Invitation will include dress code, time, cuisine, location. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to send me an email or ask a question to any of my staff in case you have any. That’s all and have a good day, we look forward to having you here in the White House!”

The call ends and the excitement is practically oozing off of you, the joy in your face radiating like an aura. You turn to face Leon, smiling and giggling at this invite. Never have you ever expected to be invited to the White House of all places but here you are. Your excitement rubs off on the agent beside you, a small smile making its way to his lips as he hears you gush about how excited you are. “You’re not that bad,” Leon thinks to himself. “This isn’t too bad either.”

NOTE - Ended kinda meh for me coz I have no idea how to end it </3 This is the last day for my week-long break, I'm back to suffering again starting tomorrow... and my test results release too- oh my god I hope I'm above passing bro I can't let my grades dip again 😭 Shitting myself to death, I can only repost manifestation tiktoks :'( Also the title colors will appear gray on people who use dark color palettes, I originally intended it to be purple <3 Anyways, thank you so so SO much to people who read my fics HAPPY EASTER AND I <3333333 UUUUUUUU !!!!!!!

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sundains · 26 days

Text

(𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕔𝕔, 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕖, 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖)

𝔸 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕖𝕤

𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕛𝕚 𝕩 𝔾ℕ!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ℂ𝕎: 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘

𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕌𝕤𝕠𝕡𝕡 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕣 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕛𝕚'𝕤

𝔼𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪!

👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️👔❤️

Long-range combat presupposes, apart from attentiveness, stealth and perseverance, an exceptional power of observation. And Usopp, without a doubt, possesses all of these crucial qualities, as without them he would’ve most probably kicked the bucket way before Luffy stomped his foot anywhere near Syrup Village.

Also, all of these qualities are found only in the best of the best, and the best of the best tend to bring their combat habits home from the battlefield because great warriors remain as such even in the confines of (relative) safety.

This is why, after some acute observation (or very noticeable and no less disturbing staring, as Nami chooses to put it), Usopp has come to an intriguingly confusing conclusion: there is a certain shirt Sanji owns that he never, ever smokes in.

🚬.

It is as ordinary as it is special. Special in a way that it is not long-sleeved, but not short-sleeved enough to call it a t-shirt; the sleeves are also wide, like bells, not stifingly slim. The fabric isn’t anything smooth like satin, it doesn’t gleam with sleekness in the midday sun. Most probably, it’s cotton.

Ordinary it is in a way that it is just a shirt. It doesn’t look expensive, no, it actually looks a little worn, a little old, though Usopp can’t remember Sanji wearing it much. It’s also striped; the stripes are pale blue on a white canvas.

Now Sanji does wear it more often. Not all the time, but definitely frequently enough to recognize it from the first glance with an ah. It has become familiar.

And there is more, of course, more to it being special: it does not smell like smoke.

🚬.

It is unusual. So unusual, at first, that it makes Usopp, without any joke, uncomfortable.

The white that sticks out of Sanji’s mouth is not a cigarette, but the white of a lollipop stick. There is a jar of these in a kitchen cabinet, and whenever Luffy tries to steal one (or the whole entire jar), Sanji throws a fit of a truly frightening caliber.

When Usopp stands beside Sanji on these days, he doesn’t scrunch his nose, doesn’t sneeze, and comes a little closer whenever Sanji wears the special shirt. It makes his own smell discernible enough, and Usopp is surprised to learn that his friend comprises in himself much more than just tobacco.

He doesn’t know what to think of this specific shirt. It shows him their Sanji from a new side, new perspective, and new is not to be immediately trusted.

However…

🚬.

When Sanji’s wearing the shirt, he’s different.

He’s happy. Happier. Smiles more and even snickers to himself when he thinks no one’s listening or looking. Touches the fabric with reverent care, pinches and rolls it between his fingerpads while submerged in the depth of thought, and when he’s suddenly pulled out onto the shore of the present, Sanji flinches, retracts his hands first, then draws them close again and tenderly smoothes out the wrinkles. Sometimes he covers a shoulder with a palm, and his brows pinch in such a softness they tremble, and Usopp actually fears that one day the signature swirls will smooth out into what’s considered usual and normal.

When Sanji’s wearing the shirt, and Zoro renders it a suitable occasion for some verbal bite, Sanji bites back. As always, but he also does it differently: teeth bared not in a sneer but in a grin; hands not buried in pockets but one resting at the slope of his waste, another on his chest, fingers spread wide; nose not up, his head, instead, is lowered and he’s watching Zoro from under the shadow of his fringe; he isn’t growling, his voice, instead, is cunning in its stability.

In this shirt, Sanji never really fights.

🚬.

The others know something that Usopp doesn’t, and one does not necessarily need to possess such qualities as perseverance, stealth and attentiveness to notice this.

Whenever Sanji wears the shirt, Robin smiles, a little bit too knowingly, a little bit too fondly. Nami smiles also, but in a way that never fails to make Usopp’s hair stand on end. Whenever Sanji wears the shirt, she disappears for a brief moment and comes back looking particularly self-assured, the cat that got the cream, or a fair share of blackmail material. Zoro rolls his eyes, but with no malice, most likely simply out of habit or to maintain the rivalry image.

They know something that Usopp doesn’t, but this is not for long.

🚬.

Usopp has been missing laundry days. On laundry days, when they are docked whenever, Franky and him tend to scour the town, or forest, or whatever place they hit land on. This time, it’s Sanji who goes, and the striped mystery resolves when Usopp stumbles into you on the lower deck.

It’s laundry day, and you’re wearing Sanji’s special shirt.

“Sorry,” you say at the same time Usopp sticks a finger at your chest and points out: “That’s Sanji’s.”

You freeze. A flush of cheeks unfreezes you, and warms into a chuckle.

“Well, uh, yeah. It’s comfy, so he lets me borrow it on laundry days. I found it his closet, like, ages ago.”

You always wear it on laundry days, and Sanji always wears it the day after, and never, ever smokes in this blue-striped, bell-sleeved shirt.

273 notes · View notes

sundains · 27 days

Note

Hi! Imagine like pop star/extremely popular music artist gf or s/o and Leon met them by being their body gaurd? I think a drabble of this would be so cute, or even just headcannons!

The Theories Of My World Revolving Around You

Bodyguard!RE4R!Leon x F!Popstar!Reader

Chapter 1: "Running Up That Hill"

“Agent Kennedy, may I repeat that you are too unstable for another overseas mission–”

“Lab reports said that I am just fine! They cleared me and stated that I’m fit to go to Bosnia–”

“Agent Kennedy!” President Graham exclaimed, both his hands coming in contact with the oak of his desk and creating a loud pounding sound.

“The last mission to Spain nearly killed you! I appreciate the risks and near-death encounters you had just to get Ashley back home but you could’ve died! You made it back barely alive! What about your mental state, huh? I’m sure as hell that dealing with all that crap would do a number on your mind. Physically you claim that you’re doing well, but how are you doing mentally?”

Leon stayed silent, gaze drifting down; President Graham was right: he was physically fit but what about his mind? Is he stable there? He knew he needed a break from all of this but who is going to be in the front lines? What’s going to happen to Sherry and Claire? Who’s going to give up their life just so a hundred others can live? He needed to give himself a break but chaos never rests, it’s just waiting for him to get his guard down.

“Mr. President, I know that you’re looking out for me but USSTRATCOM needs me. A little girl needs me,” Leon softly explains even if he feels his patience wear thin.

“I understand your concerns, Agent Kennedy, but they have many other agents just as capable as you are. You need rest. As for the girl and Ms. Redfield… I can assure you that they will be alright.” was all the older man said. “You will be referred to another protective detail. We are not necessarily laying you off but I need to refer you to lower departments and other less… demanding organizations. You’re dismissed.”

Leon simply sighed and gave the President a small nod, head hung low as he headed for the door of the Oval Office. A part of him felt grateful for the break given to him– that is if you can call it a break. He’s not exactly totally resting, he’s still on duty– just a less demanding one. Another, bigger part of him felt as if he couldn’t just sit around and wait until they’ll call him back for another job. He was just about to worry about Claire’s college tuition, worrying if student loan debt will be an issue soon but he remembered that he gave her her monthly allowance just a while back, which means that she’ll be just fine. As for Sherry, he knows she’s in good hands with Claire as her legal guardian. With the millionth sigh for today, he runs a calloused hand through his hair and decides to head home, too tired to deal with more crap for today.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Never would Leon have thought that he would be thankful for the loud ringing of his phone, the ringtone loud enough to help him snap out of a nightmare he’s been struggling to wake up from. Half asleep and slightly disoriented, he answers the call and brings the phone up to his ears.

“Is this Mister… Kennedy? Kennedy, Leon?,” an unfamiliar voice responds from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Leon says, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Who is this?”

“I’m Agent Corey Morgan. Someone under the agency you’re currently in referred you under my team–”

“What team,” Leon interrupts, his mood already sour because of the nightmare and with work being the first thing he is bombarded with in the morning. The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by Leon’s snappy attitude.

“My team under a celebrity protection detail company,” Morgan responds. “We are Citadel Group and we offer protective services to celebrities. I’m sure you are very much familiar with Ms. Ashley Graham.”

“Ashley must’ve put in a word with her father,” Leon thought to himself. “Citadel Group huh,” he mumbles.

“Yes. We request you to send in your resumé within the day for closer deliberation before we can let you start, even if the things we’ve heard about you are beyond exemplary. I’ll send in a follow-up email as soon as the screening process is finished.”

Leon hummed, already exhausted with all of this. The call ended and he tossed his phone to his bed, too tired to do anything but it’s not like he can get back to sleep again when he knows that only nightmares are there to wait for him. With a groan, he gets up and brews himself a cup of coffee to try and salvage the already worsening day.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He sent in his resumé despite several fields being blacked out, receiving an email hours after stating that he’s been assigned to a singer, codenamed ‘Red String’ and will start duty a week from now. He arrives home from the additional interview, keys fumbling to unlock the door to his apartment. He stumbles in, kicking off his dress shoes and undoing one more button to his white button-up before he shrugs his navy blue blazer off, folding and placing it on the back of a dining chair. He rummages through his cabinets, looking for a heavy-bottomed glass to pour some Jack in. Claire chides him in his drinking but he can’t help but drink right now; he’s probably going to be babysitting some stuck-up diva or be at the receiving end of a tirade of screaming if a small drop of rain lands on their shoulder or something. Flashing lights, Leon remembers; there’s probably going to be paparazzi hounding his client with their obnoxious cameras. Leon catches himself worrying over flash photography, cursing himself; the president was right on the matter regarding his mental health.

“Fuck, Leon. You need help,” he silently mutters to himself as a bitter chuckle leaves his throat. This line of work caused Leon to be more thankful towards the mundane– thankful for the opportunity to even get in 3 hours of sleep in, the fact that the loud noise he heard was just a bus and not an Armadura, or that he simply stepped on a twig on the way home and no BOW is out for him for making such a small, seemingly harmless noise.

He takes another drink before the glass is empty again, refilling it with liquor. He has a week alone with his tortuous mind before he can finally do something, even if it’s less intense than what he’s been conditioned to endure.

NOTE - I srsly had to redo my post again bc my laptop died and whatever I did didn't save 😭 Neways, BIG thanks to the anon who requested this!!! I genuinely loved this idea so much, I had to make it a series :) First chapter is short, next chapters will be a little bit longer than this so just strap in and uh wait ig :3 Also, I don't know how protective detail shit works so this is inaccurate as hell so if you're looking for accuracy then this isn't for you :) That's it and thank you to whoever reads my fics, I <333333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!

The heart dividers were made by @fairytopea , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

168 notes · View notes

sundains · 1 month

Text

Pink Gingham

Leon Kennedy x reader Established relationship, all fluff

It had been a long week at work. A number of your colleagues calling in sick and multiple projects in the pipeline, you’d tried to take up some of the slack with ill-advised early starts and late finishes...

Truthfully, if Leon hadn’t been away on assignment, you wouldn’t have volunteered for so much overtime.

The house still felt too big compared to the apartment you’d once shared, so the more time out of it at the moment the better, in your opinion. You’d started to feel a little off Friday morning, cast it aside as nothing that a lie-in Saturday would sort, but still found yourself awake at sunrise.

You’d got up, checked your phone to see if there were any messages – zero – showered and dressed, and taken the early wake-up call as a sign that you shouldn’t lie in today, but instead head downstairs to start on the long list of housework that had been neglected with good intentions.

You fill the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water and begin to wash the numerous glasses and cups that have built up. It must be the steam from the sink because there’s sweat on your brow by the second cup. You reason you should wait for the water cool down and take a bottle of water out the fridge, greedily gulping down half the thing before you change tact to loading the dishwasher.

After loading up the racks, you still feel too hot for what should for such a menial task. You’re feeling more akin to that time you tried to join Leon in one of his ridiculous work outs in the garage. To top it off, the beginning of a headache is now beginning to pound at your temples. You try and rub it half-heartedly away with your fingers, finally fighting back a yawn.

You check your phone again – still nothing.

It wouldn’t hurt to go back to bed, would it?

Your phone buzzes almost violently on the bedside table, startling you awake. The headache you had before you’d laid down for what might turn out to be an ill-advised nap doesn’t seem to have shifted, even with the painkillers you’d taken. In fact, it feels worse than it did, graduating into a horrible, constant throb around your temples.

You weakly kick the duvet off of you, feeling flush – should have got changed into your pjyamas rather than getting in bed fully dressed - and reach out blindly for your phone, holding it above your face to squint at the screen, trying to decipher what it was determined to tell you.

Two new messages from Leon.

Finally on my way home, sweetheart. Wrapped up yesterday but they wouldn’t discharge me till this morning. ETA 210 minutes.

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the acronym if it wasn’t already hard enough to focus.

And before you ask – bit bruised. Don’t recommend a prison tour…! All good otherwise x

Leon had set out on an assignment the previous weekend and you hadn’t heard much from him besides one text message a day, a sentence of more than three words if you were particularly lucky, often sweet words...

"All good."

"Miss you, sweetheart."

"I love you."

"Recycling out tomorrow!"

..or reminders about something you'd forget to do completely if he wasn't around. In fact, that’s the way it had always been if he was on what you’d call 'active duty', not just him in a stuffy suit up DC way, trailing behind the President. It's not like you’d got used to not hearing much from him, just that it was expected.

There was always that little lump in your throat when he was away, of course there was, that this would be the time you wouldn't hear from him at all and there'd just be a knock on the door, agents dressed in mourning suits.

Besides, you’d rather his focus was on coming back to you in one piece than trying to compose an update whilst shielding from bullets or something horrifying.

You haul yourself out of bed, immediately regretting it when your vision swims and you fall back down heavily on the mattress, balance somewhat abandoning you.

Probably just got up too fast, you reason, try and shrug it off. There’s there niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’re not well, but you’re going to remain in denial about it. You hate being sick, will never acknowledge you’re feeling under the weather to your grave and just muster on. It’s all psychological – it’s just a headache, you haven’t drunk enough water, not after you’ve sweated the last one out, didn’t have a proper breakfast either.

You’re fine. There’s too much to do, anyway. Every single time Leon had arrived home from an assignment it had been to a clean house and a home-cooked meal keeping warm in the oven, his favourite sweatpants fresh out of the dryer after you’d convinced him to soak in the tub – worked wonders for tense and bruised muscles – and you’ll be damned if he didn’t have the same today. It’s what he deserves.

He'd beam as soon as he walked in, wrapping you up tight in his arms, pressing a kiss against your temple and you’d run him said bath, finishing off dinner to be served for when he returned downstairs. What would follow would be an early retreat to bed, sometimes for devouring kisses and more, or just embraced in each other’s arms.

Leon’s text was from a while ago, so he couldn’t be too far away. Probably be hungry as well – often running off pure adrenaline when he was fighting for his life, then had an insatiable appetite on his return – so you really should try and see what you could combine from whatever’s in the refrigerator.

Ugh – you hadn’t done a grocery run in a few days. That had been on your agenda for today, though you’re not sure you’ll have time for that now. The laundry hamper is close to overflowing, the dishwasher definitely needs running after you crammed it full after dinner last night, some rogue plates and glasses piled up besides the sink and definitely a few rooms would benefit from the vacuum being run around.

You don’t even what to think about the garbage and recycling situation.

So much for his usual welcome home deal, then.

You get up a little slower this time, rewarded for your efforts by no spots of black in your vision and carefully head out the bedroom and towards the stairs, perhaps gripping the banister a little too firm on your descent than usual.

The easiest task by far is to pop the tablet in the dishwasher and set that to run, so you do that first, though making sure to bend down slowly after the previous bouts of head rush. After it whirs into action, you grab an apron off the hook – a pink frilly gingham one, a gift from a friend – and turn your attention to the fridge and proceed to stare forlornly at the contents, hoping for inspiration to strike.

You close the door in defeat and lean up against the counter. Maybe there’s some pasta and sauce in the cupboard…? Your thought is cut off as you hear the front door unlock.

“Sweetheart, you home?” You want to think it’s the sound of his voice that makes you weak at the knees, but you’d be a liar.

“In the kitchen!” You call back, keeping yourself propped up against the counter. Usually you’d be rushing towards him, colliding into his chest for a hug but everything feels impossible.

“Hey.” He smiles, creases at the corner of those blue eyes you could stare into for hours. Though he wasn’t lying in his text about the bruises – there’s a black eye blooming, currently a rather pleasing shade of purple, and plenty of other marks and scrapes littering his arms.

“Hey. Sorry, I haven’t started dinner yet.” Leon raises his eyebrow at that, and you feel awful, but it’s not for the reason you think. “No, sorry. I mean, welcome home! I’ll just star-” You stand upright, intending to head over to the cupboard in search of something, but your step is a bit too heavy, too quick to move and your vision swims again.

“Whoa.” Leon catches you by your shoulders, holding you up. “You feeling all right there, sweetpea?”

“I’m great.” You try and shrug him off, but his heavy palms stay in place. “Are you okay?”

His brows furrow, eyes scanning over your face. “You look hot.” The concern gives way to a grin as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, not the usual hot. Warm.”

A hand remains on your shoulder while he moves the other to your forehead, gaging your temperature, but you’ll be damned to admit it feels soothingly cool. “I’ll turn the AC on. Let me-”

“Shit, no. You’re burning up.” Leon’s eyes widen, a worried crease appearing on his brow. “How long have you been like this?”

“No, it’s just…” You pull your head back from his hand, reluctantly. “It’s just hot in here.”

He gives you a skeptical look as you try and step around him – a look that would usually be know accompanied with his hands on his hips if he didn’t still have one keeping you in place.

“How long?” He repeats, his mind racing, heart pounding. It was protocol to be decontaminated after any interaction with a BOW – he’d showered and changed clothes since Alcatraz. Hell, he’d bagged up his old ones to be incinerated, just to be sure. He knows it’s not logical, he can’t have brought something back with him and it affect you this fast, but the worry still surfaces. “From before I got home or just now? Did you feel a sting or anything?”

“Sting? No.” You shake your head, scrambling for excuses. “I’ve had a headache all morning but I probably haven’t drunk enough. And… And I didn’t have the AC on or the windows open today, it’s probably that.”

“Mm-hm.” He relaxes a little, he’d already began calculating the distance between here and the lab. “Have I told you before that you’re a terrible liar?”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” you protest, taking advantage. “I can get dinner started at least. You go relax and I’ll…!”

Your vision swims again from sudden movement, but this time it’s from Leon sweeping you up into his arms. He doesn’t even let out a grunt, even though you know he must be aching from the amount of bruises he has.

“Sweetheart, we’re barely into the afternoon. You don’t need to worry about dinner - you’re going back to bed.”

“No, I’ve got so much to do.” You lament, though you don’t fight as he adjusts his hold on you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he heads towards the stairs.

“So? I can handle it.”

“But you just got back, I should be looking after you.”

That’s the way it had always been. Leon comes home and you’re there for him, however he needs you to be. Sometimes he’ll tell you about what happened as he cuddles into your chest – likes to hear your heartbeat, reminds him of some good in the world – but you’ve failed miserably this time, not even remotely prepared.

“Sweetpea, I know you hate being sick but you aren’t going to feel any better pushing yourself, okay? Let me fuss over my favourite girl for once.”

You don’t say anything as he places you gently down on the bed, sitting up against the headrest. He goes over to the dresser and pulls out one of his t-shirts, tugging the knot of the apron strings loose before softly asking you to put your arms up above your head. It’s all gentle touches, removing the apron coercing you out of your top and into his, shuffling you out of your jeans and pulling back the covers for you to get in.

“These the painkillers you took?” He lifts up the box from the bedside table, eyes skimming the instructions and dosage.

“Yeah.” You mumble back, nuzzling your cheek into the pillow. “I don’t remember when though.”

“We’ll hold off a couple more hours, then, before another dose.”

He grabs the glass that was sat beside the pills and retreats into the bathroom, where you hear the tap run for a moment before he’s back at your side, placing down the glass of water. He crouches down besides you and gently brushes some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I get you anything?”

You open an eye. “You.”

He grins, gets to his feet and carefully clambers over you to lie down at your back, draping a heavy arm around your waist.

“Only for a bit, though. Don’t want you overheating from me.”

“Mm-hm…” You mumble into the pillow, feeling your body relax. The weight of his arm feels nice – reassuring. “Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

It isn’t long before Leon can hear your breathing change, assuring him that you’ve drifted off to sleep. He could stay there easily, just close his eyes and nod off and though he knows you would never oppose that, the way you’d be so determined to get the house in order... A flash of pink gingham on the floor makes up his mind.

---

You wake up alone in the bed, a little confused, but clear of the awful headache. Looking for the glass of water you know that Leon left there earlier, you notice that the bedside table now holds your phone, plugged into charge. You sit up slowly – still wary of dizzy spells - greedily drink from the glass of water, feeling it slip down your throat into a particularly empty stomach. Seems like your appetite had decided to reappear.

The digital alarm clock over on the dresser shows that it’s gone 8pm and, most intriguingly, the laundry basket is now empty. Huh.

You don’t bother to dress as you head downstairs, still clad in Leon’s t-shirt. The TV’s playing on a low volume, a candle burning on the coffee table. You can hear the thrum of the washing machine from the utility and when you head through to the kitchen, you find Leon hunched over the sink, apron strings tied around his waist as he dips a glass into the soapy water. The dishwasher is slightly ajar and you can see it’s been emptied, and he’s washing everything left in the sink – by hand.

He looks over his shoulder with a hesitant smile at the sound of your footsteps and then turns, drying his hands off on the apron – the pink frilly gingham number seems to suit him a little too well.

“Hey. Not sure you should be up yet, sweetheart. You were a bit unsteady on your feet earlier. Go sit down for me?”

“Okay.” You nod, and he’s pleased that you don’t protest – putting it down to the fact that you still must be feeling somewhat lousy. He traces your footsteps as you plod over to sit on the sofa though, just in case, and watches you curl up against the armrest.

“You feel up to eating something? I ordered in some soup earlier. Can warm it up on the stove now if you like – it’s your favourite.”

You nod. “That sounds nice.”

“Coming right up.” He pulls the blanket from off the armchair – the one that’s usually reserved for movie nights – and tucks it around you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as he does.

He turns to head back to the kitchen when he feels your fingers curl around his wrist, causing him to pause.

“I’m sorry I’m an awful patient.”

“You’re not, just stubborn,” Leon corrects with a cocky grin, but it doesn’t have the desired effect as the pout remains in place on your lips, thoughts spiraling. “But so am I.”

“No, I should be looking after you. You should be coming back to everything in order. Whatever this is won’t be anywhere near as bad as what you’ve been through - those bruises look so sore an-“

“Hey, it’s not a competition, sweetpea.” He says, softly, crouching down in front of you, rubbing your thigh with his right hand. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“It feels like I’ve let you down.”

“Never.” He says, firmly, giving you thigh a squeeze. “Actually impossible. I’m just glad I got back in time to keep an eye on you, I just hate the idea of you feeling lousy on your own.”

The washing machine beeps from the utility and he gets to his feet, passing you the remote from the coffee table. “Why don’t you find us something to watch, and I’ll move the laundry to the dryer and get that soup warmed up?”

“If you’re sure.”

He bends down, presses a kiss against your crown.

“Positive.”

He only makes it a few steps back towards the kitchen when you call out, looking bashful.

“Leon?”

“Mm?” He twists slightly to look back in curiosity.

“You look cute in that apron.”

He gives you a twirl, ending with a beaming grin. “I know.”

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

452 notes · View notes

sundains · 1 month

Text

Dove (part nine)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope, slowest, slow burn I swear, a few swears in this one) Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.

The click of the lock – unsure how your ears even picked up on it at all with the ghost of the alarm still screeching around your skull – makes your stomach churn as Leon heads out into the garage, off to face the unknown.

What if it’s one of those… those Lickers, stalking around the house, waiting to wrap him up in one those awful tongues, fling his body from side to side?

Fuck, your chest feels impossibly tight, like there isn’t even space in there to take a deep enough breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, sitting upright on the sofa, forcing yourself to count - in, hold, out. In, hold, out. In, hold out… If those things are out there, you try and placate – your breathing steadier than it was but heart still pounding furiously - Leon can handle it. He’d said so himself that he had a lot of experience so that must count for something, otherwise he'd more cautious and less cocky when he’d strode out the door.

He is coming back – you repeat it in your head like a prayer, maybe if you say it enough times it’ll make it true.

You two had been about to kiss. He needs to come back.

Leon heads straight to the trunk of the SUV to rummage through the duffel bag that he’d stored there the previous day. You’d been polite enough not to remark on why it had been accompanying him to the bathroom and out on his perimeter checks, but it could only go on so long without being commented upon. It seemed a good compromise to leave it locked in the trunk, whilst still having enough on his person to get by. He helps himself to a couple more rounds, two flash grenades and two straight up grenades, though he sincerely hopes he won’t be dealing any of those out so close to the house. Attaching everything to his utility belt, he takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. His heartrate is elevated, adrenaline pulsing through his veins from a combination of the alarm, what might be waiting for him behind the garage doors… ..and the fact that he was a millisecond away from kissing you.

Need to address that later.

He won’t have the chance to if he doesn’t get his head on straight, though. He checks his ammo one last time, clicks the safety off and undoes the padlock on the garage door, lifting it up so fast it bounces off its hinges as he tucks himself to the side, preparing for an ambush.

Nothing but a strong gust of wind.

He walks forward, slowly, gun raised, and sidesteps out, keeping his back pressed against the outer wall. It’s a fraction different being in a rural setting, surrounded by fields than it is to be in the depths of an underground facility, not worrying about being so exposed. No-one else here to have his back, so this’ll have to do.

He edges around slowly, trying to keep his ears peeled for any movement above the wind – a heavy footstep, maybe a tile slipping from the roof – but there’s nothing but the rustle of the trees as the wind wooshes through. He keeps his eyes flickering between the horizon, the sky and the ground for any evidence that there was someone or something close enough that would trigger the motion detectors, but nothing is to be found.

Leon circles the perimeter two more times before retreating back into the garage and viewing the footage, trying to pinpoint the exact alarm that was triggered, though it doesn’t seem to be obvious. There’s nothing at all to be seen as he thoroughly watches each of the feeds, checking that there wasn’t some dark flash in the corner of one of something or someone retreating out of shot, but it all comes up blank.

Maybe the alarm was divine intervention, he muses, pulling the garage door back down and securing the padlock. He really shouldn’t be kissing the witness, should he?

His phone rings – Hunnigan. Of course, she’ll be keen for an update.

“Hi. Look, I haven’t forgotten,” he starts, hoping to deflect from a lecture. “Dove’s just got up, so-“

“Great.” Though she doesn’t sound sincere. “Patch me through to your laptop, we can have a video call and I can ask her myself.”

“Oh. Er…” He hesitates, trying to drum up an excuse. “Surely you’ve got a lot of other pressing matters on your plate than this. I’ll ask her now and then I’ll email through the intel, if there’s any.”

“Leon,” her tone is stern, “may I remind you that I’m the handler of this case and it is my right to speak to Dove if I want.” There’s a pause and Leon realizes a moment too late that that was his moment to placate her. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, of course not!” He sighs, frustration creeping into his voice. He knows it’s not professional, that he needs to keep his emotions in check, but it’s all starting to bubble over with the accusation. He can’t just waltz back in the living room, declare the perimeter is clear, shrug off the near-kiss and shove you on a video call with Hunnigan – it’d be emotional whiplash.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not hiding anything from you, you know me better than that. I just… I haven’t had chance to give Dove the last update yet, and I don’t want her to know about the CCTV hack.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she needs to know.” “You don’t thi…? Agent Kennedy,” he knows he’s in trouble now – he can picture her rubbing her temples as she thinks how to handle this. “You’re aware I was the one who chose you for this assignment, and I can quite easily choose another agent and reassign you if you refuse to co-operate with myself and HQ.” “I am co-operating! And you know what, Hunnigan? You should trust me. I’ve never given you any reason to doubt that.” He huffs back. “I’ve been where Dove is, okay? She’s still shaken up, she’s fragile. I’ll tell her what she absolutely needs to know, but I don’t want to tell her things that will just pointlessly scare her.” “Oh, come on, you don’t want to scare her? You’ve been in that house barely 36 hours together and you sound like an overprotective boyfriend.” “I don’t.” He near enough growls at the accusation.

“You do – you’ve never made me chase you so much to get information from previous witnesses. Why do you care about her so much?”

“No, hold up - those fucks were not witnesses. All they cared about was avoiding Umbrella’s wrath, not wanting to fall victim to the fucking monstrosities they helped create. Dove was just trying to do her job, to try and keep the public safe – like we are – and look where it got her. She’s injured, in pain, locked up in the middle of nowhere, worried about being suspected of being involved, we just had the security alarm go off and-“

“Wait. Alarm?” He’s used to her typing whilst he’s on the phone, but this time it sounds a little more frantic. “What alarm?”

He exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine. I’ve just checked. Nothing to suggest anyone or anything’s been close. Must’ve been the wind – pretty gusty here today.”

“No, it’s just…” She trails off and Leon can hear her attack the backspace key. “We have it set so FSOs are alerted when an alarm system at any of the safe houses trigger. When did this happen?”

“About 30, maybe 40 minutes ago? I’ve done the perimeter four times, it’s clear. I’ll review the footage when I’m back inside.”

The typing ceases. “There’s nothing in any of the logs.”

“That a problem?”

“It’s set up to trigger a notification so we can get in touch with whoever we have out on security detail and check in. I should’ve got something.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as if she could see, “maybe it’s glitched.”

“Maybe…” She trails off, scanning the information on the screen once more. “Okay, fine – a compromise. Go and speak to Dove, quickly tell her what you want to tell her and then video call me on the laptop so I can ask about the servers.”

“And you won’t tell her about the CCTV?”

Hunnigan sighs. “No, I won’t tell her about the CCTV. 10 minutes, understood, Agent Kennedy?”

He takes another deep breath, he’s mad at himself, irritated with the situation and the fact he’s on thin ice after that outburst, that’s for sure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The garage door unlocks and you jump to your feet, bracing yourself. There’s no denying the relief when you see Leon step back in, physically unharmed. You want to run over, to embrace him, but you stay glued to the spot.

“All clear, Dove. False alarm.” He offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile but he can’t quite commit, quickly turning to lock the door behind him.

“Really?” You don’t mean to sound quite so skeptical.

“Mm-hm. I think the wind must’ve just hit the sensor a certain way.” He turns back, but doesn’t make to step forward. “Sorry I was gone a while – wanted to be thorough, you know? And then Hunnigan called just as I was going to come back in.”

“Oh, with updates?” You don’t know what you’d like to hear.

“Kinda.” He hesitates for a moment before moving towards the kitchen. “Sit down – I’ll grab some water, okay?”

He clocks the panicked look on your face, even more so than it was when he’d left the room. Good going, Kennedy. “It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Okay. Sure.” You mumble, sitting back down heavily on the couch and picking a spot on the coffee table to stare at as you hear him busy himself in the kitchen. He appears a few moments later, a glass of water in each hand and his laptop tucked under his arm. He places one glass down carefully in front of you and moves to sit on the other couch.

The distance feels too great for a man you swore was a millisecond away from kissing you not even an hour ago. Are there CCTV cameras in the house? Maybe Hunnigan had seen what was about to happen before the alarm had gone off and Leon’s getting reassigned. If he can’t know your real name, he really shouldn’t be kissing you either, should he?

“So, first of all,” your attention snaps back to agent. He’s opened his laptop up, placed it on the coffee table, and sat right on the very edge of the other sofa that it doesn’t look like it could be comfortable, “the President wanted the surveillance department back up and running as soon as possible. A lot of manpower has been dispersed to assist.”

“That makes sense - national security and that.” You wonder if they’re in the same office, sat in your colleagues’ chairs. Did they just… steam clean the carpets to get out the blood? Rip them out entirely and lay down rugs to cover the concrete floor?

They should burn the whole building down to the ground.

“In a way, but they are still working on tracking down the perpetrators of the attack. It also means that Hunnigan’s not been able to send a team to your place as yet.”

“So, I’m still a potential suspect?”

“Not to me.” He replies, firmly. “But I’m afraid it’s still something that needs done. In the meanwhile, er, she wants to know if you remember anything about the servers, specifically how they operated.”

You shake your head. “Not anything technical.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, just they’re struggling to regain access and, well…” He looks at you, sympathetically.

“I’m the only one left to ask.”

“Mm.” Leon looks down at the laptop then, a few taps and clicks as he seems to set something up. “Hunnigan would like to talk with you – pretty urgently – so I said we’d call after I’ve given you the updates. You ready?”

Leon spins round the laptop before you even had chance to respond, an outward call already ringing, the camera on and showing your rather surprised expression in a box to the right of the screen. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he hung up with Hunnigan – he’d wasted a few precious minutes putting the grenades and ammo back in the duffel bag in the SUV.

“Dove,” Hunnigan’s voice comes through the speakers first before her video appears on the screen. “How are you doing?”

“Okay. Thank you.” You shuffle in your seat as Leon gets up and circles round to the back of the sofa you’re sat on, crouching down to check the angle. “How are you?”

“Good - thank you for asking.” There’s an awkward pause, you can see her purse her lips before she pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose before continuing. “Agent Kennedy, you are not required for this call.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He can’t help himself still, apparently. “I’ll go just shower, then, if I’m not required.”

“Good idea,” Hunnigan bites back. “Go cool off.”

You shift slightly in your seat, not sure how to deal with the tension between the two. What had been said in that call? In the little box to the right hand of the screen, you can see Leon raise a hand, almost as if he was going to reach out to squeeze your shoulder. Instead he drops his hand into a fist, bounces it off the back of the couch twice and strides out of shot towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Dove - the servers.” Hunnigan’s tone has changed – lighter, now she’s talking to you, and she’s typing along with every word. “What can you tell me about them?”

“Erm… Just everything that I told Leon for his report already, I think. All the active cases are stored on there – it distributes them randomly to operatives every morning via the terminals. I already have some pre-allocated when I log in – it must do them at some point in the night.”

“And the end of the day?”

You shake your head. “Nothing particularly different at the end of the day that we need to do. It saves periodically on the server as you update cases. Nothing’s saved on the terminals themselves – it would be a security risk.”

“And did they ever talk about the security embedded into the server itself?”

You hear the shower switch on from the bathroom, wonder if Leon will be using the same shampoo and conditioner… “Dove?” “Er, no. Not that I can recall being told.”

“I mentioned there was a breach on the database when we first met.”

“Yeah.” You swallow around the lump in your throat, wondering what she’s about to reveal. “Did they extract all the information, then?”

“They got nothing.” She sounds disappointed.

“But that’s good, isn’t it? It’s a lot of information, personal information too. You wouldn’t want that getting out into the wrong hands.”

“Mm, not entirely. The server wiped itself in result of the attempt.”

That doesn’t sound right. “Wiped itself?”

“Apparently”, she sounds skeptical. “it’s protocol.”

“No. I mean…” You shuffle in your seat, trying to think ahead of each word before you say it. “I honestly don’t know what it was meant to do in that scenario, but it doesn’t seem right that they’d set it up to wipe without any sort of recovery method, or a separate back-up in the event of a hack or a breach.”

“We’re of the same opinion, then.” She nods, a satisfied smile on her lips. “But I’m curious as to why you’re so sure.”

“Because some of the surveillance has been going on for months, occasionally even a year before enough intel is gathered to be escalated.” Sometimes you’d had to scroll through pages and pages of notes to get yourself up to speed before you even started analyzing the most recent intel.

“What do you mean by escalated?”

“Well, the surveillance team doesn’t act on anything – we’re just collating it as evidence for action then to be taken if deemed appropriate.”

“Do you decide that?”

“I don’t have the final say in it, but I write advisories.”

“How so?”

“Erm, like, this one was flagged up erroneously so it should be closed. This one is of interest, but not enough to act on, ongoing surveillance required. And then any more than that, I flag for review for the senior analysts.”

The shower shuts off.

“And they worked in the same building.”

Worked.

“Yes.” You press past the thought. “I don’t see why they would risk losing everything without some sort of failsafe – it would set the whole operation back to day zero.”

“Indeed, as that’s where we are now. They don’t even know where to start.” Hunnigan sighs and leans forward, rubbing temples with one hand.

“If you’re cleared of suspicion of the attack and breach, how do you feel about leading the division?”

“If?” You can’t help but bristle at that, the fact that she’d put the two things in the one sentence. Were you meant to be flattered at the offer?

“Yes – if.”

“I told you, this isn’t anything to do with me. I… I passed all my security checks at interview, we get vetted monthly without fail! If there had any doubt about my loyalties I would’ve been off the team and in custody immediately.”

“No need to get defensive, Dove. You have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“No, I don’t understand.” Tears burn at your eyes, though you’re determined not to let them fall. “I don’t understand how you think I could possibly have anything to do with what happened, that somehow I acquired those… those Lickers and let them, let them…” Your breath catches in your throat, the memories overwhelming you.

The bathroom door opens, but you don’t turn, eyes fixed on the screen. “Surely you have to agree it’s suspicious that you, out of all of those people, were the only one to survive, and yet with so little injury too.”

“Hunni-“

“I don’t know!” You retort, cutting across Leon’s warning to the agent. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. I don’t know why they didn’t bite my head off, rip me apart limb from limb, but… but I wish they had.”

“Dove,” Leon’s voice is soft, now directed towards you rather than the laptop screen, “you don’t mean that.”

“Noted.” Hunnigan’s tone is icy. “Thank you for your time.”

There’s a beep and the call disconnects.

You get to your feet, keep your head down, trying to make a beeline for the bedroom – it’s the only place you can go – but Leon steps in front of you, holding his hands up in front of him, as if he’s afraid to touch you, smelling sweet from the strawberry bodywash.

“Hey, look at me.”

“I’m tired, Leon.” You are, truly – suddenly and inexplicably feeling exhausted. Pathetic.

“Please.”

You look up then, defeated – you’re going to have to look up eventually - but there’s no tears in your eyes. His hair is damp and he’d dressed in a hurry, patches of his white t-shirt going translucent. “What?”

“I know it’s difficult right now – and I’m not just saying that, trust me, I’ve had that feeling when you’re the only one left and you don’t know why – but please don’t say things like that.”

You stare at him, but you don’t know what he wants you to say. “Sorry.”

“No, Dove,” he sounds exasperated, “I don’t me-“

“I really am tired.”

And he believes you. He wants to wrap you in his arms, pull you close to his chest, whisper promises in your ear, press kisses to your crown – anything to bring a spark back into your eyes than the look of defeat.

What had Hunnigan said?

“No, of course. You’re recovering.” He steps aside, leaves a clear path to your bedroom. “Go have a nap or just a rest – whatever you need. I’ll make us lunch when you’re up.”

You nod, hurrying into the bedroom and closing the door behind you with a click and near enough collapse into the bed, mindful of your arm, muffling sobs into the pillow.

“Why do you care about her so much?”

The words ring around Leon’s head as he lays on the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. It’s been over an hour and a half since you retreated into the bedroom, an hour or so since he last heard a muffled sob behind the door. He’d had to stop himself dialing Hunnigan’s number to find out what happened – tensions were too high. Why does he care so much? You’re beautiful, sure – always been a sucker for a pretty girl and that’s got him in trouble in the past – but it’s more than that, far more.

Maybe… maybe he cares so much because he’s never really had the chance to care for someone like this. He’s not had any sort of real relationship since before Raccoon City, one night stands here and there, but nothing of any domestic substance. You’re not entirely reliant on him, but it’s those things you’d do for a partner when they’re having a rough time. He could’ve been obtuse and unhelpful, watched you struggle in a foreign environment, but that’s never been his style – the wide-eyed, rookie cop who just wanted to help was still in there.

But what was he thinking earlier, nearly kissing you? You’re vulnerable, a prisoner almost, under his watch. He shouldn’t be doing that. It’s too much of a pressured environment, emotions and tempers are high – as the blow-out with Hunnigan had made abundantly clear.

He rolls to his side, cursing the world. Why couldn’t he have met you anywhere else?

You wake up, disorientated at first as to why it’s so dark. You’d retreated back into bed just before midday, surely Leon would’ve woken you for your medication at least. You sit up, allowing your eyes to adjust before hauling yourself out from under the warm covers and tentatively open the door, unsure of what the hour may be.

The living room is empty, an abandoned pillow and blanket on the sofa – Leon must be out on a perimeter check – but the garage door is ever so slightly ajar.

Leon’s never done that, even when he went out to search for a chair he’d got through the same routine and locked it up tight behind him. Maybe he’s grabbing something from the SUV and with you being in bed hadn’t felt it necessary to follow his usual routine?

“Leon?” You call out, cautiously.

There’s no response.

You walk slowly over to the door, trying to steady the building panic in your stomach, and peek through.

The garage light is on. The SUV is still in place, the garage door shuttered down and Leon is on his side, his back facing towards you, almost in a crescent shape so you can’t see his head, and the garage floor is smeared in blood. His blood.

You retreat like a coward – you should go forward, check for a pulse, see if you can do anything to help, but the panic is overwhelming. You make it only a good four or five steps when there’s that horrible, unhuman sound at the same time as something wet wraps around your ankle and yanks you down hard.

A tongue.

It’s one of those things’ tongues.

You scream, try and grab purchase on the carpet, your nails ripping up fibres but it’s not enough. You kick back wildly with your other leg, all terror and no substance, but the tongue begins to retract, yanking you along with it, the carpet burning against your knees as it drags you back into the garage.

You turn to look over your shoulder, tears burning your eyes, as the monstrosity waits on the hood of the SUV, dragging you to rest besides Leon’s lifeless body.

Lifeless and headless.

You scream.

There’s a bang – not of a gunshot, but of a door hitting the wall - and you’re up right in bed, heart pounding furiously against your ribcage, hard, shallow breaths but there’s no oxygen reaching the bottom of your lungs.

“Dove?”

The scream had come from your room and Leon can’t remember getting from the sofa to the door he’d moved that fast, throwing it open with such ferocity that it had banged against the wall, the handle leaving a hole in the plasterboard. He had his gun raised, cursing himself already for leaving you alone, only to find the room empty of intruders and you sat up in the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, staring blankly into the space and breathing so hard it was as if you’d been sprinting.

He holsters his gun – safety clicked back on – and is by your side, crouched down, hand on your covered legs in moments.

“Dove?” He asks, softly.

You look at him, eyes wide in alarm, panting, before you grab his hand, squeezing his fingers in the hopes of reassurance, not quite believing you’re awake. “You’re… You’re okay.”

“Me?” He raises an eyebrow.

You nod. “You were… They were… I…” You swallow back down a sob.

“Hey, it’s all right. It must’ve been a bad dream.”

“It had got you, you were… You were dead.”

You squeeze his fingers again before letting go, trying to steady your breaths. “It felt so real.”

“I know.” He wasn’t a stranger to having such dreams, despite how many years had gone by. “But it wasn’t. I’m fine, see? Not a scratch or bruise on me.”

You nod again, shakily.

He gets to his feet. “Let me get you some water, hm?”

You wrap your fingers around his wrist then. It’s not a strong grip, he could pull out of it easily, but it’s enough to still him.

“Can you stay?” You’re not looking at him, eyes fixed on a random spot of the duvet.

“I’ll only be gone a moment, just to the kitchen and back.”

Your grip tightens a little around his wrist. “Please.”

“Okay.” How could he ever say no?

You shuffle along in the bed then, making space wordlessly.

“Are you sure?”

There’s only a slight tug on his wrist before he clambers carefully onto the bed – boots and all – lying back against one of the pillows and you shuffle to lean into his side, leaving a little space. He wraps his left arm around you without thought, pulls you in closer so your head is laying on his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He begins to rub his palm on your lower back in soothing circles – mindful not to go higher with the bruising. He can feel the rate at which your heart is pounding.

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Can we just…?” You squeeze your eyes closed tight. “Can we just stay like this in silence for a bit? Please.”

“Of course – anything you need.”

You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on touch to calm your heartbeat - relishing the warmth of his chest on your cheek, his palm on your back and the sound of his steady heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you to relax again in his embrace, another wave of exhaustion rolling over you from the shock.

“Dove?” He asks gently, cautiously when you’re on the precipice of sleep.

You don’t reply, the effort too great.

“What are we gonna do, huh?” He whispers, giving you a light squeeze.

You feel him press a long kiss to your crown.

He’s just extinguished a cigarette, but he already needs another as his associate makes a beeline across the office, a shit-eating grin on his face. Fucker shouldn’t look so happy. He bangs the packet on the table to retrieve another, lighting it and taking a deep drag as a single printed page is laid before him. He looks down – a list of addresses divided into columns that mean absolutely nothing. “What’s this shit?”

“Addresses.” His companion answers, tapping the paper enthusiastically with his every word. “But, more importantly, a list of DSO assets. As you’ll see, there are quite a few of them, all dotted around the States.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, waiting for him to continue. “And I happen to know some of these are designated safe houses - equipped with state-of-the-art alarm and surveillance systems.”

“Right. Do you have a point?”

“Getting there. Alarm systems are all connected to the central hub, so yours truly worked his magic and set all active alarms on the system to trigger at the same time.”

“And why should I care?”

“You should care because only one alarm triggered, suggesting there’s only one in use.” His companion dips his hand in his pocket, pulling out another sheet of paper and a pen. He places it down besides the list of addresses to reveal a grainy CCTV still of a figure and proceeds to pull the cap off the pen off with his teeth, spitting it out on the table and circles an address.

“And that means…?” “That means…” He draws a circle around the grainy image of you laying at the bottom a stairwell, “I know where she is.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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sundains · 1 month

Text

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc: 2.8k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, manipulative behavior from Leon, male chauvinism, misogyny (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

Chapter 7: Unforgettable

The sun was only just coming up, but you had already been awake for a long time. You weren't even allowed to sleep properly that day, after all, the bride had to get up early to prepare for the big occasion. The wedding.

You were surrounded by the queen's ladies, several seamstresses and other maids, some of whom you had never seen set foot in this castle.

In this preparation, no part of you was forgotten, you were adorned from head to toe, from the veil that covered your head to the delicate satin shoes that embellished your feet. Not even if you looked for a strand of hair out of place would you find one. You were dressed like a queen, a beauty so stunning that it could make anyone fall at your feet.

Everyone but the one you wanted.

When your eyes caught sight of yourself in the mirror, you could see every detail of your dress with the utmost clarity. The delicate silk, the lace seams that made sophisticated patterns, just by looking at it you could tell it was too expensive.

The jewelry that Leon had given you a few days ago was now all on you, from necklaces to earrings, or the crown that was on your head, which he had also chosen for you.

You were the bride, but you felt like a stranger in your own wedding, as if it wasn't yours, the intruder was you, the bride herself.

"You look beautiful, Your Highness." One of the maids said, looking at you with admiration.

You then smiled, a forced but beautiful smile, and thanked her with a nod of your head. You made a few more adjustments to your dress yourself. Until then, without realizing the queen's presence at the door, the lady looked at you from top to bottom.

"You look perfect, dear." She said in a velvety voice, approaching you.

Since the last 'disagreement' with the queen, she had been a little distant from you, but apparently everything had passed and she was acting as if nothing had happened. Maybe she just wants to make up.

"You're the perfect suitor for my son, that's why I chose you." She says, as if proud of the fact.

"Thank you, Your Grace." You say in a soft voice, keeping your smile.

She paused, coming up behind you and putting her hands on your shoulders.

Of course you knew your obligation as a woman, but hearing her say that she chose you as if you were just a pretty product on the shelf, didn't seem right.

"I imagine it wasn't easy." You say, trying to get into the same frame of mind as her.

She then nodded, gently adjusting a few details of your veil.

"It's hard to find someone who's worthy of being a prince's wife, it's not easy, being a good wife is a hard chore." She says, letting her fingers trace your necklace.

You gave her a sidelong glance, gathering all your respect, holding your tongue so as not to say something you might regret.

"I'm sure I'll be adequate." You replied politely.

"I'm sure of it, I can already imagine that you'll be able to liven up this castle. Especially when you start giving me heirs." That word sent shivers down your spine, not in a good way.

You always thought that having children would come from an act of passionate love, from those tenuous moments that formed between a couple. But it didn't take long for you to realize that it was just an obligation, and that sooner or later you would be forced to fulfill it.

"Are you already thinking of heirs, Majesty?" You murmured, thinking out loud and not realizing that you had said it out loud.

In a quiet response, she let her hands rest on your abdomen, as if she were seeing the prospect of a child in there.

"That's one of your main purposes, dear. To give my son heirs." You tried your best not to feel disgusted by the tone used, but the idea that you were just an object, destined to fulfill a role at court, was disturbing.

"I also depend on your son's will." You say, gently and firmly removing her hands from your body.

You knew what she was getting at with this manipulation.

"My son will not disappoint." She retorts, watching you support yourself on your heels and head for the exit of your room.

"No of course he won't, he already has." You say without thinking, sharp, harsh words slipping out of your mouth.

You only saw the queen change her expression, which at this point was no longer friendly, but had turned into a gray, angry expression. As if sent from heaven, Chris was charged with taking you to the carriage, and to your surprise he was already waiting for you at the door.

"Your Highness." He said with the same cutting smile as always, expecting you to accompany him.

And you did so without much thought, walking alongside him, trying to disguise the nervous look on your face

"Leon is already waiting for you at the cathedral." He says politely, helping you down the stairs.

"Oh, then we should hurry." You say, lifting up your dress so you can walk more quickly.

"We'll be there in time, don't worry." He assures you, holding your hand as you descend.

Once you had reached the main hall, you heard buzzing here and there, but you couldn't quite make it out. Until you focused your attention on a subject that was of great interest to you.

"I hear that Princess Ashley is very ill! She won't even be able to attend the wedding!" One of the maids commented to Ausdret, who was listening attentively.

"Get back to your duties, there's a lot to do!" Ausdret retorted, giving no room for any gossip to continue.

Ashley sick, a severe cold? Or some more serious illness? In fact, she'd have to be very ill not to attend such an event, or perhaps it's an excuse?

Chris certainly sensed your uncertainty, and promptly muttered, "It'll be fine. You look gorgeous, and so will the wedding."

You felt a small sense of relief, but it was enough to make you put your head together and think about the day ahead.

"Yes, it'll be fine." You murmured back to Chris, sounding more like something to you than to him.

In a cozy silence, he took you to the carriage waiting outside, where they were already waiting for you.

"Good luck, Your Highness." Chris whispers just for you to hear, giving you a gentle smile.

You nod, trying to force your best smile. Despite the storm in your heart, you needed to keep everything in order. Once you got into the luxurious carriage, you knew there was no turning back. And you had chosen that, now all you had to do was wait for the road to end and you would be at the altar, sealing an illusory commitment.

Once you got out of the carriage, you heard the trumpets sounding to announce your arrival, and that's when you began to walk calmly, always keeping your smile and elegance, your head held high as you were the target of the party's prying eyes. Your father was already waiting for you at the entrance to the cathedral, ready to take you down the aisle.

On the way to the altar, you didn't know if it was harder to walk in a dress that size or if the weight of your heart was more significant than that. When the trumpets stopped, all you could hear was the faint applause, the low murmurs here and there, which were so low that you couldn't identify what they were about.

The cathedral was packed, so many people there and you didn't even know half of them, but if they were there, they were certainly important people.

In the distance you could see your family, who smiled proudly at you, your mother with her eyes watering almost to the point of tears, and of course for her everything was perfect, and even if it wasn't, your family and his would act as if everything was a beautiful fairy tale.

Your walk down the aisle was soon marked by the orchestra, playing the standard wedding tune, the sounds echoing through the room as you this time took your focus off your family, and managed to spot your groom, waiting impatiently for you at the altar.

Hate him all you want, but he was breathtaking. Leon found himself wearing a black suit, his eupalette shining when the sun reflected off them, his hair slicked back in a style you hadn't seen him wear before. When you saw him return your gaze, you felt butterflies blooming in your stomach, your breath catching in your throat, causing you to hold the flowers in your hands tighter. He looked so beautiful, you could gasp just looking at him.

Step by step you finally reached the altar, making a small courtesy, and your father gave you a small blessing, and you promptly positioned yourself next to the prince. You were so close, so far apart, almost tying the knot, but still far from finding each other.

Once silence prevailed, the priest cleared his throat and looked at everyone, but specifically at the two of you.

"I appreciate everyone's presence for the celebration of this union. I request that you all take your places so that we can begin the ceremony." The priest said, looking at everyone seriously, but with a certain joy in his eyes.

"We are here today to initiate the union between two kingdoms, between two young lovers." The older man says, his attention focused on the pieces of paper on the lectern.

Who in the whole kingdom wouldn't be happy about such a union?

Everyone sits down and stares at the two of you, the youngest couple about to be married.

"We are here to witness, before God and the whole kingdom, the conjuncture and union between two royals, a prince and a princess, who will soon be our next majesties." Once again the priest spoke, this was his moment to speak, and he would make the importance of this union even clearer.

And then he looks up at the two of you, speaking seriously once again, " Matrimony is a sacred union, not to be broken by anything. The only plausible explanation for breaking that holy and sacred union, is death."

These words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn't help but swallow when you found yourself facing this situation. Only death could separate the two of you.

What could be a love story for any couple in love, for you, God forgive you, seemed to be more of a curse than anything else.

With a glance from the priest, you saw a girl approaching, carrying the rings on a small cushion. They were made of pure metal, shining so brightly that they were striking even from a distance. Yours had his name engraved on it, along with a diamond at the top.

Leon's ring, on the other hand, also had your name on it, but no stones or other adornments. This was the time to exchange vows, the moment when the two of you would make promises and promises of love.

Another girl came and gently took the bouquet of flowers from your hand, so that you could turn around and face Leon, and the two of you were staring at each other. And you didn't see a hint of love in Leon's eyes, maybe you found some emotion, and it was probably discontent.

Leon then took your hands in his, his warm, larger hands wrapped around yours, and you felt a sudden shiver at the small act.

"Do you promise, Leon Scott Kennedy, to take," he then spoke your name, "as your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her and guard her, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as long as you both shall live?"

The silence was deafening, everything was quiet except for the sound of your heart beating in your ears, and at the slightest gesture, you squeezed his hand even harder.

At the same moment, you saw him press his lips together tightly, his emotions screaming inside him, the pain between having to seal an incorrigible path, put everything he once wanted to the test, override the desire to follow his heart.

With a certain apprehension, he picked up the ring, removed your gloves, and then slid the ring onto your ring finger.

"Yes… I promise." He says, without any conviction, for the first time you saw his gaze empty, but at the same time you could see the melancholy present there.

"Do you promise," the priest began, clearly speaking your full name before continuing, "to take Leon Scott Kennedy as your lawful wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him and guard him, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as long as you both shall live?"

His hesitation to answer was an answer as clear as a thousand words.

But now his oath had been made, all that was left was for you.

With your mind working a thousand miles a minute, all you did was look deep into Leon's eyes, as if you were searching for something there, perhaps something to calm your nerves. But he was looking for the same thing in you, so you were both looking for solace, when you wouldn't have any.

When you saw the people looking at you with a certain astonishment, seeing that you were slow to respond, you also reached for the wedding ring that sealed the marriage, taking Leon's hand in yours as you placed the jewel on his finger.

"Yes, I promise." You said in a whisper, just giving the priest and Leon a chance to hear.

You could already hear some murmurs forming in the cathedral, but you couldn't make out what they were about. A request for silence from the priest was enough to stop all sound, and silence took over once again.

A sound of the priest cleaning his throat, was enough for you to come back to reality and stop staring at Leon, paying attention to what the priest had to say.

"In the sight of God and of people, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May this unification be full of fruits and joys, may it bring to our country what we need. And may you both be happy and blessed by God." For the first time you see the priest give the two of you a slight smile and then mutter:

"You must seal the union with a kiss." The phrase gave you butterflies in your stomach, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for Leon to bring his face close to yours.

At that moment, all you could feel was the blush rising to your cheeks, and everything around it disappeared once he locked his lips onto yours, gently placing a hand on your cheek to hold you in place.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the sensation, your lips on his as you moved in sync, in a gentle and sweet way.

If everything was as sweet as this moment was being, then you would feel complete. But life is not a bed of roses.

Once you parted, you leaned your foreheads together, and listened to the various cheers and whistles you saw from everyone watching.

"I promise you'll be happy." Leon whispered to you, and you didn't know if it was worse that he was lying in front of God, or that you believed it so easily.

"I hope so." You reply with a weak smile, looking at him deeply.

When the two of you turned your faces away a little, you were faced with a crowd of emotional people looking at you. Some smiled, some cried, but everyone seemed to be happy for the two of you.

You knew it was far from over, you still had the reception, the ball, and the tedious conversations that would go on for endless minutes.

But since all these real commitments would be over before nightfall, you would soon be going on honeymoon with Leon.

A thought that would almost certainly be a dream for couples in love. But you didn't know whether to be apprehensive or disappointed, perhaps even intrigued. You'd be lying if you said that the idea of sleeping with him didn't make your knees weak.

In any case, when the two of you went on your honeymoon, you would indeed play your part as his wife. Something about that was strangely excoriating.

And when that happened, you were his, officially his.

You were his.

Oh, you were his.

Taglist: @gollumsmygel, @quemmysworld, @loveoverdosing, @delulusimps, @d3jecteddoll, @kennedyleyy, @acriixys, @deredvv, @luminehallowss

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