✨️ Alt account so that I don't bury my writing under stacks of reblogs in my main page. If you follow @westdoesnotsleep this is West! Welcome to my side blog ✨️
it’s actually wild how terrified of the general public most usamericans are. like you don’t realize it if you’re someone who mostly walks and takes transit and spends a lot of time in populous public spaces but then you talk to one of the thousands of people that seemingly never set foot in any public space besides a parking garage or a starbucks and you suddenly understand why it’s so easy for fascist rhetoric about the dangerous alien to take root. this country’s median voter pretty much never interacts with strangers who aren’t their coworkers or people they met on dating apps
saw a post on instagram that was literally someone citing statistics saying public transit is one of the safest travel options out there and the comments were literally just “ummmmm op this is so ableist and misogynistic of you :) don’t you know the average public transit user is a dangerous violent criminal who wants to set you on fire :)))”
it must be so terrifying and sad to go through life convinced if you set foot outside your car in public or interact with people outside your nuclear family you’ll instantly be raped and robbed by the Evil Poors no wonder so many of these people are reactionary tar pits
Summary: Leon never wanted to work at the DSO, but the only thing worse than being forced to work for the government was being forced to work a desk job. Good thing he's a field agent, and his desk work always involves you. (wc. 1.4)
Warnings: Leon and reader are both pervs (more Leon tho). No age-gap warning bc they were both fighting in Racoon City during the outbreak. Reader works at the DSO; wears skirts/glasses; is female body coded; she/her pronouns.
Listening to: 'She Keeps Me Up' by Nickelback - "I need her so bad sometimes I think that I can taste it... I can't trust my friends 'cause she's what everybody chases, and I know where she's been 'cause it's on everybody's faces."
Masterlist || AO3 link
Leon Scott Kennedy. Ex-police officer. Survivor of the Raccoon City outbreak. DSO agent extraordinaire. There were many ways to describe the man whose desk sat near yours, and you were starting to believe hopeless romantic or pervert was also one of those ways.
He was nice though, and attractive, so as bad as it sounded you didn’t mind him perving on you. It was only fair since you often caught yourself staring at his ass, the work slacks did him all the justice in the world - tight but not too tight. And then his shirts, how his biceps looked and his forearms when he’d roll the sleeves up during summer -
Hopeless. Maybe you were the hopeless one. But that hopelessness was not a habit you were going to break any time soon. You’d been gawking at him for years, ever since that horrid day at Raccoon City.
Both caught in the middle of the mess, fighting for your lives. You didn’t know what point in the day you ran into each other, but he saved your life that day. If you’d been on your own for another hour you probably would’ve died from paranoia alone. But then Leon showed up.
Young, blonde, round faced and still full of his innocent rookie charm. Between his arsenal of police-issue weapons, and the sawn-off shotgun you’d found under the counter of the store below your apartment, you both survived the day.
You’d been picked up by the government early on. You learnt they snooped into the records of all the survivors of Raccoon City and they picked you out as an office worker who had much potential to be trained up as an agent. With Leon they weren’t so lucky, they had to wait to get him to join. When he did, founding the DSO upon his arrival, he was like a seeker missile with how fast he found you on his first day of work.
And if he wasn’t out getting his hands dirty, he was sitting in whatever free cubicle was nearest to yours.
“Another coffee Kennedy?” You asked, leaning over the divider above his computer screen. His head perked up, eyes softening. He was obviously very focused today, usually he’d already be looking your way by the time you started walking in his direction.
“If you’re going that way, thanks.” he said, handing his empty mug into your outstretched palm.
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” you replied, sliding around his cubicle until you nearly stood at his side. You watched his eyes flick, down then up again, you could tell his eyes wanted to linger, but he was trying to be decent in not ogling you when he knew you could see him doing it.
“You don’t have to go out of your way for me.” He said. You stepped closer, crossing your arms and tapping his mug on your hip.
“Again, I wouldn’t offer if I was.” your voice softened, “You’ve taken bullets for me and refuse to let me return the favour, the least I can do is get you a fresh coffee.”
“You could always buy me a drink instead.” he suggested, offering you one of his smirks. One of his eyes nearly shut at how he was nearly smiling, creases around his eyes crinkling. Even with the light catching the grey in his whiskers, he could still remind you of that rookie from all those years ago.
“One of those fruity ones with a little umbrella and slice of lime?” You said, starting to turn on your heel.
“Those are my favourites, now you’re talking dirty to me.” he said, throwing your cheek back at you.
“I’ll make sure to add that to my usual order of scotch.”
You drove Leon insane. It wasn’t always like that though.
Sure when you first met all those years ago he would’ve given you a second glance, you were pretty and any guy like him would want to give you the time of day if you asked - but then he got to know you. He was a goner.
He was a little older than you, only by a few years, but a lot of time passed between you and no doubt he grew as a person too - but to see you grow from a pretty young lady to a woman who demanded attention without ever asking for it was, as Grace would say, ‘a whole thing’.
Leon rarely saw you outside of work, and then it was more often in the office than in the field, but he didn’t mind. Getting distracted by you was a lot safer when the only thing at risk was turning in a report late.
And you were a distraction.
No one else in the building made a white blouse and pencil skirt look as good as you did. Black heels and a long expanse of your stocking covered legs on display.
He remembered clearly the first time you’d caught him eyeing you - he was too busy following your figure as you walked away, thinking about those heels… well it didn’t matter really. What mattered was how far back he leant in his chair, and how it gave way under his weight. He crashed to the floor, chair falling over beside him. He landed hard, and if anyone wasn’t looking at him gawking at you, they would be looking at him sprawled out on the floor like a fool.
It was years ago now, back when he first joined the DSO offices, but he still copped flack about it.
“Another coffee Kennedy?” Speaking of the devil, there you were. Perched over his cubical divider, looking down at him with a half smile. It took him a second to register what you were saying, he was too distracted at the way your glasses were half-down your nose.
“If you’re going that way, thanks.” he said, handing his empty mug into your outstretched palm. You fingers brushed, and he watched as your perfect manicured fingers curled around his mug.
Fuck, he was in trouble.
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” You walked around until you nearly stood at his side. He loved when you wore slacks, it showed off your thighs so nice, but he was weak for your skirts. How could something so basic look so good? But he couldn’t linger on the way your hips smoothed down to your thighs, or how that soft bump of your stomach looked above the apex of your legs. You deserved better than to be openly gawked at, he knew it.
“You don’t have to go out of your way for me.” He said, trying to remember what you were here for, what you were talking about, but then you stepped closer. Your arms crossed, pressing your chest together and up, a button of your blouse strained, but he refused to look. He decided to just look at your eyes.
As if that was any less distracting.
“Again, I wouldn’t offer if I was.” your voice softened to something smooth, “You’ve taken bullets for me and refuse to let me return the favour, the least I can do is get you a fresh coffee.”
He’d take more than bullets for you, he’d catch a grenade with his teeth if you asked him to and never ask for anything in return. He doubted he was the only one - surely he wasn’t the only one, not with how intense you made him feel.
“You could always buy me a drink instead.” he suggested, offering you a smirk. You looked at him and he couldn’t help how that look faded and was replaced by a real smile. You could strip away whatever womanising part of him was still left and render him a virgin cop-in-training any day of the week with nothing more than a whiff of the perfume you’d been using since you were nineteen.
“One of those fruity ones with a little umbrella and slice of lime?” You started to turn on your heel, thank god, and better yet replied to his quip with familiar and comfortable territory. He can do jokes in his sleep.
“Those are my favourites, now you’re talking dirty to me.” he said, attempting to make himself sound less like a pining fool as you walked away.
“I’ll make sure to add that to my usual order of scotch.” You threw back at him. He could feel his jaw grind behind his smile as you left him with the clack-clack of your heels and a perfect view of your swaying hips.
Yeah, Raccoon City was the worst day of his life, leaving him with day after day of trouble. But at least you were the good kind of trouble.
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Funny that the stereotypical cynic is an idealist who aged out of it. In my experience, the reverse is true. I was an extreme cynic as a teenager and then I noticed how profoundly limiting it was, and also that "cynics are cool and smart" was a message that was being constantly reinforced by corporate media for some reason.
#yes! cynicism reads as very juvenile to me#and yes prev often stemming from teen pain
Yeah, like I see black-pilled people on here and my default reaction isn't "oh, these must be world-weary old warriors who've lost their faith in humanity", it's "these people are in their 20s and need a hobby"
I also think that the present era has proven that authoritarian leaders don't actually want a population of wide-eyed idealists, they want a population of jaded assholes who are convinced that everyone is lying, any resistance is either a scam or doomed to failure, and nothing can ever get better.
I don't want AI. I don't want meaningless wars. I don't want fast fashion. I want old growth forests. I want glaciers. I want coral reefs. I want clean water and air. I want bees. I want animals to be protected and not endangered. I want a thriving wildlife population. I want A FUTURE for the following generations.
areudirty
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