tags/warnings: re9!leon kennedy x dso agent!reader, fluff, leon is married to reader
summary: you and leon didn't expect your anniversary to end up this way.
playlist: american wedding by frank ocean
a/n: UEUEUEU first resident evil one shot drabble thingy t^t. had to write this cause cant stop thinking about married 49 year old leon kennedy LOL. i hope it's not just a survivor’s ring in the game cause i do hope we see this hunk get married at some point 🥹 very rushed but i hope you enjoyed!
You and Leon stood in front of Grace who was sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, exhaustion etched her every feature.
“I wish we could’ve saved, Emily.” Grace said with somber eyes. After all, she did make it her personal mission to finish it once and for all with Emily by her side.
Leon steps closer towards her, “Grace, I didn’t hit any of her vitals,” he said gently. “She could still be alive.”
Grace’s expression shifted, as if she couldn’t believe what your husband had just said. “W-W-What do you mean?”
You gave her a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can save her.” For the first time since everything began, Grace smiled. It was a tired yet hopeful smile filled with relief.
Suddenly, a BSAA agent comes up to you both, “Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy? Please come run your last checks on our emergency helicopter, ensure that all DSO-issued gear have not been left behind.” With that, you and Leon give the BSAA agent an understanding nod and tell him your thank yous.
You squeezed her shoulder once before stepping back. “We’ll be in touch soon, Grace. In the meantime, do get some rest.”
It was time to finally wrap things up and head home. Learning the truth about Elpis was a long journey and all you two wanted was to lay in bed for a whole week straight. A comfortable silence settled between you and Leon as you both start walking towards the helicopter that took you to safety.
Leon let out a long breath. “…I’m officially done with abandoned laboratories for a while.”
You chuckled, his comment was something you two can only dream of. “You nearly died on me and you’re only done for a while?”
“I know how our luck works, Y/N.”
They shared a knowing smile at that. No matter how many mentally taxing missions you and your husband take on together, you both knew it would all be okay. As long as you had each other, neither of you felt you had anything to fear.
“Fuck, that was one hell of a mission,” You said. “But.. we did it.”
“We stopped it,” Leon replied. “And we finally found a cure for the damn T-virus.”
You glanced down at the tactical watch strapped around your wrist, checking the time. Upon seeing the date, your steps came to a halt.
“Leon…”
“Hm?”
“It’s October 9th, my love.”
He paused.
Then realization softened his tired expression. A small and genuine smile spread across both of your faces.
“Happy Anniversary,” you both said in perfect unison.
Leon let out a quiet laugh. “Not exactly the celebration I had planned for us, hon.”
“Hm, I don’t know the entire ARK crashing down on us was quite the show.” I chuckled softly, heart fluttering as you see how his smile reached his eyes. Somehow, he’s managed to give you even more butterflies the older he got…
You both dig in to your hip pouches, retrieving a simple wedding ring that had remained tucked safely away throughout the operation.
You slipped your ring back on to its rightful spot, seeing the familiar silver again gave you a wave of comfort.
Leon meets your eyes before intertwining your fingers with his, wedding rings catching the glow of the police lights.
“We’re alive.”
He squeezed your hand.
“And that’s the best gift I could’ve asked for.” He brings your hand, still intertwined with his, up to his lips. His breath catches your hand for a second just before he kisses it. It was his silent way of professing his love and commitment for you.
Together, hand in hand, you walked towards the idle helicopter, leaving yet another nightmare behind, and heading home at last.
CHAPTER III: GIVE ME A REASON TO LOVE YOU
— "...Give me a reason to be a woman."
tags/warnings: re9!leon kennedy x dso agent!reader, friends with benefits, fem reader, explicit themes, office tension, confrontational argument, angsty, jealousy
summary: you and leon are constant partners for DSO missions and have spent the past six months being friends with benefits but you soon come to realize that this was a dangerous game.
playlist: glory box by portishead + bonus: glory box live by nessa barrett
a/n: they got to be happy in ch II but thats it. oki im kidding. i love writing intense scenes, i find it so entertaining and i hope u guys think so as well! hehe the cliffhanger. i also add these songs cause they're the main inspiration of the mood i wanna set for each chapter. like no joke i literally play these songs on loop for hours while i write each chapter. thank you for supporting this little series. the taglist is open if you wanna be a part of it and tell me your thoughts! much love from me, enjoy! <3
series: ch I , ch II , ch III , more soon
taglist: @princesssugarplumm
It was three in the afternoon and your floor on the building was buzzing with typical busy office chaos. You stretched your arms in your seat and moved your body over to face Leon’s desk, your hand placed on top of your chair.
“I’m gonna head out to print those files the Director sent to us earlier.”
“Okay. He’s calling us in for a meeting tonight. Something about retrieving a highly classified drive with intel on our military.”
You slightly tilted your head to the side, pondering and trying to figure out what else this mission could entail. “Interesting. Anyways, I’ll be back, Leon.”
“Mhm.” He faintly smiles at you before you walk out.
You were now standing by the printing room, waiting for some papers to process when you heard footsteps approaching from around the corner.
You didn't pay much mind to it until you heard Natasha’s amused voice as she talked to one of the senior analysts.
“...I'm telling you, he’s a tough nut to crack, but it’s so worth the effort.” Natasha said, letting out a quiet laugh.
“Wait, you actually got Mr. Kennedy to go out?" The analyst asked, sounding impressed and eager to gossip more.
“Two nights ago, down at that little bar on 8th Street." She replied with her tone laced with pride. “Just the two of us for a bit. Took a couple of drinks to get him to warm up. But once he relaxed? God, he is so fucking hot when he isn't brooding over his job.”
A lump formed in your throat as you heard her words. You froze, your hand hovering over the printer’s touch display.
Two nights ago.
Two nights ago was the exact night he took you out to that diner.
While you had been lying awake in your apartment, staring at the ceiling and gushing over his gentleness towards you, he was sitting at a bar, letting Natasha Roman of all people coax him out of his shell over whiskey.
A sharp pain cut through your chest as your heart dropped. The insecurity didn't just sting either, it took over your mind and got you deep into a mood again.
You promptly grabbed the printed files from the tray as soon as they were ready, mentally swearing to yourself as you realized you had to walk past the red-head. You kept your posture up and focused on walking straight ahead, masking your feelings as you passed her.
The time came for the meeting you were waiting for. The quiet air in these meeting rooms were always such a contrast to the ever busy office outside of it.
Director Philips, the Head of the DSO, sat behind his polished desk, hands placed over a thick dossier. Philips motioned for you both to take a seat as you two walked in.
Your arms were crossed as you sat down in front of your Director. Leon glances at you before taking a seat as well. He had picked up on your cold demeanor ever since you came back from the printing room, but he didn’t press on. That was a conversation for a later time.
“My most trusted agents. Glad you two could make it.” Phillips began, sliding two briefing folders across the desk. “To put it simply, a US military transport chopper went down over Norway during a confidential transfer three days ago. It was carrying a drive loaded with highly classified intel on the US government and our military.”
You listened attentively as he continued. “A rogue mercenary group was found to be behind the crash and managed to salvage the drive before the retrieval team could make it to the crash site. They most likely carry the intention of running underground black market trades for the information on that drive.”
The Director puts up a satellite photo on his desk, flipping it to be upright for your point of view. “Our team on intel have already flagged an outpost, exact coordinates and other information can be found in these dossiers and the files I sent.”
“Any estimate on the number of hostiles, sir?” Leon asked, his voice sounding calm and leveled.
“At least a dozen of them are heavily armed to patrol their perimeter. There isn’t much we could find regarding their indoor operations.” Phillips said, his eyes scanning between the two of you.
“The government expects this to be a swift operation, agents. Infiltrate the outpost, secure the drive, and wipe their servers clean before any data gets broadcasted. No loose ends. Are we all clear?”
“Yes, sir.” You replied, nodding your head.
“Good. You both leave at zero six hundred hours tomorrow morning. In the meantime, head to the armory and get your gear sorted out.”
As you took your copy of the briefing, you didn’t bother to look at Leon. You walked out of the office before he could say a word to you, causing your partner’s eyes to narrow down in confusion.
The armory was wide and loaded with all kinds of firearms and equipment, the room was fully painted black with white fluorescent lights displayed on the ceiling and the walls.
You were stood at the long workbench. Both yours and Leon’s leather jackets rested on a chair leaving you both wearing your black tank tops. You took a part your chosen handgun, running your checks on its condition. The sound of parts being placed on the table echoed sharper than usual as it would never be this quiet with you two working in the room.
Leon was standing a few feet away across from you, working on his own gear. Yet, he was more focused on you rather than his beloved Requiem.
He was watching you like a hawk. Grayish blue eyes tracking every single movement you made.
“You're rushing your reassembly.” Leon commented, breaking the silence.
“I know what I’m doing.” You said flatly, not glancing up at him. You slammed the slide of your handgun back onto the frame with a harsh, metallic clack.
Leon lets out a slow breath, stepping closer to you. He reaches out, his large hand extending to grab the oil rag sitting near your elbow to hand it to you.
The moment his fingers neared yours, you snatched the rag away before his skin could even graze yours. His hand hovered in the air for a bit before slowly lowering it.
The stoic expression he had was cracking and was replaced by a frustrated one.
“Alright, Y/N. What is it?”
“Nothing, Kennedy.” You replied with zero emotion as you began loading up rounds into an empty magazine. "Just trying to get this done so I can clock out for the night.”
“Don't do that.” Leon demanded and went around until he was standing directly beside you, the hard muscles on his arms flexing as he walked. He was close and the heat radiating off his body was suffocating.
“Don't give me any bullshit. You've been acting all cold since the afternoon. If there's an issue with the mission prep, say it.”
“There's no fucking issue with the prep.” You said, your eyes fixed firmly on the magazines in your hand. “I’m simply remaining focused like we're supposed to.”
Leon let out a dry huff, taking another step forward until his chest was inches from your shoulder, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes were dark, mixed with emotions of irritation and confusion.
“We were fine this morning.” He muttered. “We were fine at the diner and now you won't even look at me. Talk to me, Y/N.”
The mention of the diner was the final straw. The hurt that you’d been bottling up all day had instantly cracked, burning away your professional composure. You slammed the full magazine onto the workbench, rattling the other spare tools nearby it.
You were fully facing him now and you were just as irritated as he was.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Am I ruining your mood?” You scoffed out as you looked up at him.
“Maybe you should go find Roman. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help you relax over a few drinks like she did two nights ago!” You frustratingly added as you stepped away from him, raising your voice ever so slightly.
Leon froze and for a split second his dark eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him like a physical blow.
He opens his mouth, stepping closer to you in attempts to bridge the gap. “Y/N, Roman was just—”
“I honestly don’t fucking care, Leon.”
His jaw tightened as the harshness of your voice hit him right in the chest. Then the stubborn, territorial pride inside him instantly flared up to match yours.
“You know what? I don't owe you an explanation for where I go on my time off.” Leon said defensively, his voice dropped and sounded deeper than usual. "And I don't need you reading into things that aren't there."
“Good! Because I'm sure I’m not.”
You let out a heavy sigh and grasped the courage to look up at him again.
“You made it clear six months ago on that stupid drunken night in Europe that we have an agreement. We fuck, keep our mouths shut, and we do our jobs. So stop hovering and taking me out to dinners as if you care about anything else other than what we agreed on.” You said as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away at your last sentence.
Leon stared down at you. His chest was rising and falling heavily. He almost gave in to spilling the truth in his pounding heart.
The terror of how deeply he was falling for you, the fact that he had gone to that bar out of pure panic just to try and stop thinking about your face had hovered on the tip of his tongue.
But of course, his own fears shut the idea down. The constant threat of death, his own troubled mind, and risking you to what could be a failed romance with him had locked the truth deep into his chest.
He stepped closer, crowding you to back up until your spine hit the cold and dark wall. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his dark blue eyes burning into yours with a possessive, dangerous heat.
“So that’s what you want?” Leon deeply spoke with a bitter edge to his voice. “Fine. Have it your way then.”
You kept your mouth shut and your chin lifted, refusing to break eye contact with his hypnotizing gaze. If you two weren’t arguing at this moment, you’d probably be on your knees for him with your mouth full of his dick by now.
Agonizingly, Leon finally moves away. He grabbed his leather jacket off of a chair, shoving his arms through the sleeves.
“Message received, Agent.” His tone was as cold as ice. "Get your gear packed. I’ll meet you when we deploy at zero six hundred tomorrow."
The heavy door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud before you could say anything.
“Fuck him.” You scoffed as you stressfully ran your hand through your hair.
You stood alone in the dark room, leaning your back against the wall. The high of being angry was slowly dying down in you. You shook your head and walked back to your workbench. He was the last person you wanted to work with tomorrow but duty calls and only tomorrow knows on how this mission will play out for you both.
The flight up north had been a nightmare of suffocating silence. For hours straight inside the government-issued plane, neither of you said a word to each other.
You sat on opposite sides of each other, eyes fixed on your respective digital tablets, pretending to review mission dossiers.
Hunnigan had arranged an off-grid and secluded safehouse cabin near the search grid. Based on the photos on your screen, it looked well put together and quite comfortable. It was the one thing you looked forward to on this mission.
Years— Hours later, rather, you had finally arrived in Norway.
By the time Leon pulled over to the gravel driveway by the cabin, night had completely fallen. He turns off the engine and you two step out. The air by mountains in this country felt ice cold, especially in the moonlight.
“Come on, let’s set up our gear for tomorrow inside.” Your partner says casually as if you both haven’t been silent to each other for the past couple of hours.
You simply hummed in response. Leon twists a key in to the front door’s lock and pushes it open.
You flick up the light switch and your eyes were greeted with the sight of a beautifully warm cabin. The inside was undeniably cozy with features of warm wood paneled walls, a stone fireplace, and heavy wool blankets thrown over a rustic sofa.
Under normal circumstances, this place would have been a peaceful retreat. Instead, it felt like a pressure cooker waiting to detonate.
Leon sets his heavy duffel bag down near the entryway with a thud. You followed right behind him, kicking the heavy door shut against the howling wind and slinging your own bag off your shoulder.
And then you both stopped dead in your tracks.
The entire cabin was one open space. There were no extra rooms apart from a bathroom. Sitting by a corner, illuminated by the warm glow of the porch light peering through the window, was one large king-sized bed.
CHAPTER II: SECRETS I HAVE HELD IN MY HEART
– "...Are harder to hide than I thought."
tags/warnings: re9!leon kennedy x dso agent!reader, friends with benefits, fem reader, office tension, explicit themes, jealousy, fluff at the end, mutual pining
summary: you and leon are constant partners for DSO missions and have spent the past six months being friends with benefits but you soon come to realize that this was a dangerous game.
playlist: i wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys
a/n: okay i decided that i'll turn this into a series cause im obsessed w the idea. this chapter is a bit long cause i need to set things up but trust me with this lol. have some jealousy mixed with fluffy leon and y/n cause these two deserve to be happy too SJDHJSF. i hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i enjoy writing it! ik this will flop but i secretly hope it wont hehe
series: ch I , ch II , ch III , more soon
The morning sun shone through Leon’s blinds, slowly waking you up. Fluttering your eyes open, you realized that your partner was no longer next to you. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind. The way he acted whenever you two got intimate was starting to take a certain effect on you.
Your thoughts were cut short as the smell of coffee hit your nose. You begrudgingly got up from the soft sheets. Walking up to his closet, you casually steal one of his shirts. It looked oversized on you but all you wanted was to be comfortable. You put your panties on, quickly fixed your hair, and made your way downstairs to his kitchen.
“Morning.” You mumbled, still half asleep.
“Hey, you.” Leon responded, glancing at you for a second before looking back to his frying pan. His voice sounded husky in the morning and it was charming to say the least.
You looked up to see a shirtless Leon in only his pants cooking up some pancakes for two. His back was facing you and your eyes stared at his toned body a little too long for your liking.
“Sorry, didn’t wanna wake you. You needed the rest. I made some coffee and the pancakes will be ready in a bit, yeah?”
You couldn’t help but crack a smile at how much he was accommodating you. “Look at you, playing chef. What’s next? Are you gonna bathe me?” You joked as you pushed yourself up to sit on his kitchen counter.
He chuckled softly at your joke. He glances down to your thighs noticing you only had panties on. He walks up to you as you sat on his counter, his hands sneaking up to hold your waist. “And look at you, only in your panties… stealing my shirt. How many has it been again? One.. Two..”
“Hey! I did give them back, you know.”
“Not the one from two weeks ag-” He teases you even further, smiling at your defensiveness.
“Leoooonnn.” You cut him off, prolonging his name and dropping your shoulders as you complained. It was too early for his antics.
He laughs and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. Your eyes lock with his and for a moment it felt as if you two got lost in each other’s irises. Leon’s hand lingers at the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. His gaze dropped to your lips then back to your eyes.
You felt a shift in the air as everything felt slower. Your breathing was heavy and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t understand it, you’ve touched and looked at each other much more intensely countless times before but why does this feel so different?
“Pancakes.” He suddenly breathes out and breaks eye contact, seemingly out of the blue.
You blinked as your train of thought diminished. “W-What?”
“Pancakes. They’re, uh, almost done.” He walks away from you to attend to the stove but not before giving you a reassuring smile as if nothing ever happened.
“Oh, right.” You mindlessly replied back.
You can’t afford to ruin whatever this was that you two shared. Besides, he’d never mean to do anything in that kind of way.
“Bet you’re gonna burn them.” You jested, lightening up the mood again.
“I might just if you keep taunting me like that, Y/N.” Though you could only see his back, you could tell he was smiling based on the tone of his voice.
The ignition and heavy tires of his custom Porsche come to a stop as he parks the car.
“We’re here.” He alerts, opening his car door.
You opened yours, stepped out and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s only eight in the morning and we’ve got countless papers and meetings waiting for us.”
“Don’t remind me.” He says with a heavy sigh as you two start walking towards the building. “Hunnigan’s gonna have our heads if we don’t submit those reports by tomorrow.”
As you walked through the corridors of the DSO Headquarters, your co-workers greeted you and Leon quick good mornings. You two would respond back to them and return their professional politeness. It’s the same routine with the usual familiar faces everyday. Today, however, there was a face who greeted you in which you didn’t recognize.
Your eyes caught the sight of a tall, red-headed woman with perfect maintained wavy hair. Her lips were painted with a bold shade of red and she carried herself in such a way that felt enticing. Then it clicked.
Natasha Roman. A highly skilled field agent. You heard talks of her transferring to your branch before.
Later that day, you were tasked to go to a medical consultation to get your injury checked out. Much to your relief, your injury was nothing you couldn’t handle. The diagnostic scans showed no severe viral contaminations. You were given a prescription for anti-inflammatories and you went on your way after thanking the doctor.
You finally made it back to your office. Yet, when you pushed the door the open, you found that you had a visitor.
Agent Natasha Roman, the new transferee, was just in front of Leon’s desk. She held two paper coffee cups from the main lobby in her hand, one for her and the other seemingly for your partner, laughing softly as she talked to him.
"...so I told FOS that if they wanted the new recruits to excel that they should come to you for advice.” Natasha continued, the tone of her voice was light and casual. "Because let's be honest, Kennedy, almost every rookie in this building panics the second an extraction strays from protocol. Unlike you."
“That is normal for new recruits, Roman. I’d say I was the same back then.” Leon replied politely.
"Modest as always.” Natasha hummed, setting one of the coffee cups on the corner of Leon’s desk with a smile. "Anyways, a few of us are grabbing drinks down at the lounge on 8th Street later. You look like you haven't had fun in a while. You should come."
The red-headed woman turns her head towards the office door upon hearing you step inside.
Natasha turns to you, maintaining her charming smile. "Ah, Agent Y/N L/N. Back from Medical? We were just discussing about the new recruits."
"I heard." You replied plainly as you walked over to your desk.
Leon’s eyes left Natasha the instant you walked in, he was focused on you now. “Is the, uh, shoulder clear?"
"Clear. Nothing too serious."
"Good," Leon murmured, his gaze lingering on your face a second longer than necessary before he turned back to Natasha.
Natasha looked between the two of you, her blue eyes picking up on shift in the room’s atmosphere.
"Right." Natasha says, clearing her throat. "Well, the offer stands for tomorrow, Leon. Let me know if you change your mind."
"Thanks, Roman" Leon said with a polite nod. "Have a good night."
"You too. See you around, Y/N." Her striking eyes locked with yours, her voice was sultry as she bid goodbye.
"Roman." You acknowledged quietly.
The door shut with a quiet thud. You sighed and shifted your focus back to your computer, filling in the remaining sections of your report.
You ended up spending an hour fighting a stupid war in your head, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about what you just saw. Your fingers clacked against the keyboard as you dissected your thoughts. He’s free to do what he wants, he certainly isn’t your boyfriend so why are you so bothered?
You were his fuck buddy for goodness' sake, nothing more.
"Y/N." Leon's stern voice broke the quiet atmosphere in the room.
"Leon." You replied back dryly, not stopping your fingers from typing.
"She was just dropping off briefing notes."
You didn’t intend to, but you scoffed at his words. "I didn't ask, Kennedy. You don't have to explain your coffee visitors to me." You said as you paused your fingers and looked back at him.
Leon stared at you, his brow furrowing just a fraction. He knew you were in a mood but he always knew not to push it. He just watched you, his jaw tightening slightly before he turned his attention back to his screen.
"Just making it clear." He said softly, his tone dropping an octave.
Before you could say anything else, the internal intercom on your desk chimed softly. Hunnigan’s voice came through the speaker.
“Y/N, Leon, Director Philips is ready for your preliminary assessment in Conference Room B."
Leon hit the responder button. "On our way, Hunnigan."
He sighed and stood up, grabbing a folder from the corner of his desk. He didn't say anything as he waited by the door, holding it open for you with the ingrained courtesy he had in him.
"Good work, both of you." Director Philips said, praising you both. "Take the rest of the evening to offload. Report back at zero eight hundred tomorrow for the meeting tomorrow."
"Understood, Director." You and Leon replied professionally.
The walk to the elevator was quiet. It was late into the evening and the corridors were gradually emptying out.
The elevator doors chimed and slid open. You both stepped inside the empty metal car. As the doors closed, Leon pressed the button to the ground floor.
"You're not going home to cook, are you?" Leon asked casually.
You blinked, caught off guard by his attempt to make small talk. "What? No, I’m way too tired. Gonna go straight to bed.”
Leon let out an amused hum. "What do you say we go out for a bite? You haven't eaten since those pancakes this morning."
"Leon, it's late-“
"I know a place. It's ten minutes away." He glanced over at you, his blue eyes softening was just enough to break those thick walls of yours. "My treat."
You wanted to say no. However, your stomach betrayed you with a faint growl and the thought of spending an hour with him without the pressures of work felt too tempting to decline.
"Fine." You murmured.
"But only if you get me a milkshake."
"Deal."
A couple minutes later, Leon’s Porsche pulled into the parking lot of a neon-lit, retro looking diner. You look out the window to see the soft pink and blue lights of the diner sign that read, “The Midnight Diner”
When you two stepped in, the place was practically empty, except for an older and friendly looking waitress wiping down the counter.
You two slid into a red vinyl booth near the back window. Leon sat across from you, hanging his jacket over the back of the seat.
"Told you it was quiet," Leon said softly, sliding the laminated menu toward you.
"How do you even know about this place?" You asked, glancing at him before looking at the menu.
"Found it a few years ago after a rough assignment." He replied, a faint and nostalgic smile evident on his lips. "When I didn’t have you back then, a coffee and hot pie from here was what helped.”
You smiled back softly, listening attentively as he opened up to you. His words were kind and genuine. Though the way he talked about you sent such mixed signals to your heart and you weren’t sure how to comprehend them.
The waitress came over to take your orders. A milkshake and a grilled cheese sandwich for you, and a hot cup of black coffee and a classic bacon burger with fries for Leon.
As soon as she walked away, he crosses his arms and sits up.
“Okay, griddle me this.”
You paused for a second before bursting out a laugh. “Did you just fucking say, griddle me this?”
The sweet sounds of his low laughter filled the booth at your reply. “You haven’t even heard the whole joke yet!”
“Wait-“ You stopped yourself, feeling another laugh coming out of you. “Leon, you’re fucking forty-nine. Forty-nine and still saying puns.” You chuckled even more as you wiped a stray tear that left your eye.
“Calling me too old, huh?” He asks, pretending to be offended.
“Maaaybeee.”
When the food arrived, the sight of the warm grilled cheese sandwich reminded you of the hunger your body was feeling all day. You quickly took a bite of the sandwich and let out a contented sigh.
Leon stopped midway through lifting his burger, watching you amusingly.
You saw his expression and swallowed the bite you took. "What?" You asked with a hand covering your mouth, feeling slightly flushed.
"Nothing." Leon smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's just nice seeing you enjoying something normal for once instead of shooting bio weapons or drowning in paperwork."
You hummed in agreement and sipped a little bit of your milkshake.
A quiet, “Oh.” left his lips as he reached over with his napkin and gently swiped at the corner of your lip, catching a stray drop of your milkshake. The gesture was so simple yet it felt so intimate.
"You're soft tonight, Kennedy." You whispered gently.
“Just for you.” Leon replied back quietly.
The words hung in the warm, quiet air between you two. He didn't say it like a line or a joke. He said it as if it was a simple and undeniable fact.
For the next forty-five minutes, your gloomy mood from earlier and the stresses of your lives vanished entirely.
You stole fries off his plate and he stole some sips of your milkshake. You two spent the night laughing about ridiculous blunders from your rookie days, sharing stupid jokes, and talking about whatever came to mind all in a red booth at a tiny midnight diner.
An hour later, Leon pulled his car up to the curb outside your apartment complex. The rain had calmed down just in time.
"Thanks for tonight, Leon." You said softly, turning your body to look at him from your passenger seat.
“Don’t mention it, I had fun.” He said with a warm smile.
You returned his expression then shifted your body to open the car door. You moved to step out until you remembered that your phone was still on the passenger seat.
You reach over to grab it but Leon leans in at the exact same time to hand it to you.
Your fingers accidentally bumped against his. You looked up to apologize only to be met with your face only mere inches away from his.
You both froze instinctively at the small gap that entailed between you two. His breathing was steady and you could smell the leather on his jacket as his eyes fixed on yours. You swallowed hard, heart hammering against your chest.
“Sorry- Uh..” You stammered on your words, pulling away quickly and stepping out of the car with your phone clutched to your chest.
“Goodnight, Leon.” You said as you held the car door open.
Leon blinked, a second of hesitation passes through him before he retreats back to his seat.
“Night, Y/N.” A faint smile was set on his lips. “Get some sleep.”
You gave him a quick nod before shutting the car door.
You let out a deep sigh and sat down on your bed. Placing your palm on your chest, you close your eyes and try to calm yourself down.
You’d rather eat a bullet than outright admit it to anyone but deep down inside you knew that what you felt for Leon wasn’t just lust anymore.
CHAPTER I: DIRTY LITTLE SECRET
— “…That's how I wanna keep it."
tags/warnings: re9!leon kennedy x dso agent!reader, friends with benefits, fem reader, office tension, smut, creampie, cunnilingus
summary: you and leon are constant partners for DSO missions and have spent the past six months being friends with benefits but you soon come to realize that this was a dangerous game.
playlist: dirty little secret by nessa barrett + obsessed by zandros and limi
a/n: will continue this into a series if you guys like this🥹 also you should totally listen to the songs, dirty little secret is criminally underrated. enjoy!
series: ch I , ch II , ch III , more soon
It had been a couple hours since you had come back from your mission. Your shoulder was still aching from an injury you sustained thanks to some monstrous plant creature that you don’t even wanna begin to understand. Nonetheless, you were here spending the night at the nearly empty Division of Security Operation HQ.
"You're doing that thing again where you stare into space." A deep voice said from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Leon.
"Just calculating the amount of paperwork Hunnigan is gonna drop on us tomorrow.” You said as you turned to face him. There he was, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. You knew he was spent from the mission but it's so unfair that he still looked gorgeous.
He's the elite DSO agent who had everyone's respect, your constant partner in every mission...
And for the past six months, the person who’d fuck you senseless whenever the nightmares of the job became too much to sleep through.
"Hunnigan already uploaded the files for us." Leon said with a faint smirk on his face.
He stepped into your office and closed the door behind him. "It’s sixty pages. Each."
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. "Shoot me, Leon. Seriously, I survive a giant plant monster just to be taken out by this."
Your complaining had earned a chuckle from him. He walks up to you and slowly takes your hands away from covering your face.
"How's the shoulder, Y/N?” Leon asked. Your mention of the bioweapon that struck you earlier had seemed to shift his mood.
"I'm fine.” You murmured and looked away from him, not wanting him to be concerned with your injury.
He wasn't impressed with your attempt to lie. His gloved fingers reached out to gently grab a hold of your jaw, tilting your head up almost commanding you to maintain eye contact.
The air was growing thick with tension and you could feel your breathing getting heavier. It was always like this after a mission. Being a government agent was demanding and you both needed an escape.
"You always do this.” He muttered, dropping his usual professional tone. "Playing it off and acting like you didn't almost get yourself killed out there."
"I'm just doing my job, Leon.” You countered. The closed proximity was taking an effect on you as the scent his familiar cologne clouded your senses.
He scoffed, his eyes falling to your lips for a second before snapping back to your eyes. "You always expect me to just watch you be reckless during a mission, as if you won't get any consequences.”
"Then stop watching and do something about it.” You whispered, looking into his eyes just as he likes it.
Your words caused Leon to tighten jaw. His breath hitched as he let go of whatever restraint he had left.
"To hell with the paperwork.” His hand quickly moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you forward, finally crashing his lips onto yours.
You backed up until you were pressed against the wall. Without breaking the heated kiss, he grabs a hold of your waist and guides your body closer to his.
He trails his kisses down to your neck as you moved your hand to the back of his head, threading your fingers in his hair.
"Mmph.. Hah.." You breathed out, trying to keep quiet in your office while his saliva on your neck stimulated your senses.
“Need you tonight, baby. Fuck.” He groaned into your neck as your breathy moans further grew his arousal. The hard on in his pants was getting too hard to ignore and he wanted nothing more than to take you.
When you two finally broke away to breathe, his lips brushed against your jaw, his breathing ragged against your skin. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N.”
"Mm, You're not that lucky, Leon.” You panted, your hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders.
He let out a low chuckle, his eyes locked on yours.
"My place or yours?" He asked you, his patience growing thinner.
"Yours, it's closer.” You quickly replied.
The car ride to his house felt like a blur. It wasn't long until you two reached his bedroom. His lips relentlessly pressed on to yours as soon as he shut the door. His hand snaked up to the small of your back as you cupped his face. You could feel his erection pressing against you as you kissed, eliciting a muffled moan from you.
He leads you towards the bed and pushes you down on to it. He quickly takes off his shirt and hovers over you. "Gonna undress you now, princess." You quickly nodded in response, allowing him to take over you.
Taking the hem of your shirt, he pulls it above your head and quickly unclasps your bra with one hand. You bit your lip as you marveled at his bare chest.
He leaves a kiss on your lips and trails his kisses down from your neck, to your breasts, and down until your stomach. Your breath stuttered from his lips. "Leon, please- Fuck.."
"Tell me what you want, baby." Leon teased you with an obvious question, he enjoyed seeing you writhe for him.
"I-I want your mouth on my pussy please, Leon. I'm so fucking wet, babe, please I need it." You were so needy you could cry.
"Good girl." He praised and placed one more kiss on your stomach before taking your pants off. He smirked at the evident wet spot that puddled on your panties, satisfied with the effect he had on you.
He pressed a kiss on the wet spot before taking your panties off, making you whimper. "God, you're so sexy."
Holding on to your thighs he lowers his head down to spit out a string of saliva on to your clit. His tongue licked up your wetness, savoring the taste of your arousal.
"Aah..- Y-yes, pl-please.." You whimpered as his tongue finally started working on you wet pussy.
He looks up to see your blissed out expression as he devoured you. The sound of his slurping filled the room as he sucked on your sensitive nub. He was practically making out with your clit, sending you over the edge.
"F-Fuck, Leon, I- So g-good, baby.." He started working his tongue faster at the sound of your praises. A moan escapes his throat, causing you to feel a vibration.
Your hand moved to his head at the sudden increase of ecstasy in your body. "I- I can't- Mmf..-! w-wait anymore..!" You breathily moaned out as you felt a familiar sense of sensitivity rushing to your clit.
He pulls away from your pussy, catching his breath as he understood that you were prepped enough and that you needed him. Your wetness and saliva was all up in his stubble making him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You taste fuckin’ amazing, Y/N." His words were laced with adoration for you. You looked down shyly and felt your heart flutter at his flattery.
He wasted no time after and quickly unzipped his pants, pulling them down. He takes his hand and strokes himself to finally let his dick feel some sort of relief.
Your eyes gazed at his big size and the sight in front of you, mouth about to water. He takes his cock and slowly rubs his tip on your clit, teasing you just a little more.
"F-Fuck you, Leon.." You whined as he targeted your already sensitive clit when all you wanted was him inside of you.
He chuckles lowly at your expression. "Come on, baby, beg for me. One more time for me, yeah?" He coaxes you gently, groaning softly from the sensation of his tip on your dripping pussy.
"P-Please, baby. I- Sh-shit..- I need you i-inside.." It was taking everything in you to concentrate. He was driving you to the edge with all his teasing.
"That's it, princess.." He grips your waist with one hand while the other lines himself on to your entrance.
His cock fills up your hole and you immediately moan out in pleasure. "Nngh..!” You gripped the sheets at the sensation.
“Y-Y/N, you’re so tight, around me..” He groaned lowly, feeling your warm and tight walls wrap around him.
He moves to hover over you and plants a kiss on your forehead, looking deep into your eyes. He starts off his thrusts slowly to let you adjust to his size, but that only made you whine.
“Leon.. Fuck me, already. I-I can take it..” You pleaded. He grunts at your request and gives you what you asked for. He thrusts inside you with much more strength this time.
“O-Oh, ff-fuck..-! L-Le.. Leon, Leon!” You moaned out his name like a prayer, your mind was completely full of him and only him.
His breath was ragged as he groaned at how you were taking his throbbing dick in so perfectly. “Ah, fuck- Feel how hard I get for you, baby? A-ah, shit..”
You nodded as your eyes started to water from the euphoria you felt. His thrusts were hitting you just as you had wanted it to. He moves a hand to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiping away the tears of pleasure that escaped your eyes.
The sweat trickled down his neck down to his chest as he panted and moaned on top of you, his eyes still gazing on yours. He looked completely blissed out and hypnotized by you. He knew exactly where you felt the most sensitivity and mercilessly targeted it.
“Ah..-! R-Right there.. Mmngh- D-Don’t stop please..-!” You gasped out, struggling to catch your breath.
Leon grunted lowly at the sight of you being so fucked out underneath him, making him piston inside you even faster. “God- Fuuuckk.. You’re so so good for me, Y/N. St-Stay with me, princess.”
He takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with his while his other was holding your waist. He relentlessly pounded into you and you clenched around him with a whine as you held his hand.
“N-Not gonna- Mmnh..! Last long, Leon-” You whined out, feeling your high coming soon.
He closes his eyes for a second, trying to ground himself. “M’close too, baby, I— Aah, s-shit..”
He leans down to pull you into a passionate and messy kiss as he thrusted to bring you two to the edge. Your walls were tightening around him so much, too much. “Y-You’re clenching so much ‘round my dick, come on.. Wh-Where do you want it, hm?”
“I-Inside, please, please. M’on t-the pill.” You begged and pleaded for him to release inside of you.
A final thrust into your sweet spot caused you to close your eyes and come undone for him. “Haah.. I-I’m c-cumming, Leon.. Nngh..!”
He came right with you with a deep groan. Warm spurts of his cum filling up your walls. “Oh, fuck, you’re perfect..” He whispered, catching his breath.
His hand caressed your hair, allowing you to take your time to calm down. After a couple seconds, he slowly pulls out, a soft moan came out from both of you. He sighed and admired his white liquid dripping out of you.
You fluttered your eyes open and saw the tired yet satisfied look on his face. He lays down next to you and guides you to lay your head on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and for a while you both just basked in each other’s warm and bare naked bodies.
“Didn’t know you still had that in you after the mission today.” You said, breaking the comfortable silence.
He chuckles softly and gently rubs your shoulder. “You should know by now that I’m always gonna need you.”
You felt your heart skip a beat. His words almost made you forget that he most probably meant that in a sexual way. You mentally shook your thoughts away, trying to keep your head together.
“Whatever you say, Kennedy.”
It was funny how fast the sweet pet names you two called each other would fade away after having sex. It’s cause that’s all you two were. You were each other’s temporary escape to the living nightmare you both chose to live in.
“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked as he looked at your shoulder injury with genuine concern.
“No, no. I’m alright.”
“Good.”
Comfortable silence filled the room again for a couple seconds before Leon sighed softly.
“Hey, we had a long day. You can stay the night if you want to..” He offered to you with a calm voice.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks, Leon..”
He hummed at your response and caressed your shoulder once more.
A dirty little secret. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever will be.
tags/warnings: re9 mentor!leon kennedy x rookie dso agent!reader, office tension, hurt comfort, fluff and suggestive themes at the end, implied age gap between adults (age not mentioned, up to you)
summary: leon finds out you almost died on your most recent mission and emotions come up to an all time high.
playlist while writing: friends by chase atlantic & a little death by the neighborhood
a/n: office tension and an angry intense love confession, yum. hope you enjoyed and indulged with me!
You were sat on your desk, busy responding to emails and filling out papers regarding your most recent mission hijacking a hidden base that held B.O.W.s in Japan. In all honesty, the mission nearly killed you if it wasn't for Sherry's quick thinking to break her protocol as your FOS coordinator. She interrupted your mission and called for backup despite having no orders from you to do so. You were passed out in a pool of your own blood, radio silent for five hours and Sherry's decision was necessary. However, your mentor, Leon, didn't have to know that happened.
Unbeknownst to you, Leon had been restless inside his private office all morning, his brows furrowed as he tried to ignore the lump in his throat. Eventually realizing that work and coffee wasn't going to drown out the feeling, he left his office and went looking for you.
It wasn't long until the sound of his tactical boots echoed the halls, catching your attention. You turned your head to see your mentor standing beside your chair, evidently having something on his mind.
"Office. Now."
His words came out as a low rumble that vibrated right through your chest. He's been serious before but this felt different. His demeanor even caught the prying eyes of our co-workers behind their desks.
He didn't wait for your reply before turning to walk back to his office. You quickly stood up to follow, leaving your papers on the desk.
That dark blue tactical shirt always highlighted his arms so well. Okay, not the point, he was walking further already and you had to catch up. Your mind was frantically cycling through everything you did this week. Did you miss a report? Did you say something wrong earlier?
As soon as you stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind you. Leon leaned his back against his office's door, crossing his arms over his chest. His cold demeanor changed the mood of the whole room.
"Explain." he bit out, his gaze piercing into you
"Explain what, sir?" You asked as your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If this is about paperwork, I filed the post-mission report for my operation in Japan this morning. Everything went well-"
"Don't lie to me." he snapped, his composure cracking as he revealed his thoughts. "I just got a debrief from Sherry an hour ago. She told me what happened. She told me that for five hours, you were completely off-grid, trapped in a collapsing structure with a B.O.W. hunting you. You didn't even think to ping for backup?"
You froze, he knew you were keeping secrets. "Sir, I had the situation under control-"
"You were bleeding out, Y/N! You could've died!" Leon stepped forward, his deep voice was tight with an intensity that felt far more dangerous than anger. He stood in front of you and stressfully ran his hand through his hair.
"Sherry broke protocol because she knew you were playing Russian roulette with your life. Why didn't you call for help? I'm always on stand-by too. Why didn't you call me?" His intense voice had boiled down to a more anxious tone.
"I didn't want to worry you." You whispered, the defiance draining out of you. "I’m a field agent, Leon. I’m supposed to be able to handle-"
"I don't give a damn about your pride!" he interrupted once more, his hands moving to your shoulders—not to shake you, but almost to confirm to himself that you were real and still alive. You were breathing heavily at this point, taken aback by this unexpected reaction.
His eyes were searching yours, reflecting a look of vulnerability you had never seen in him before. "Do you have any idea what it’s like? The feeling that…"
You had never seen Leon Kennedy so upset that he couldn’t even finish his sentence.
"The feeling that I could have lost you and I wouldn't have even known why?"
The silence in the office grew suffocating, broken only by the sound of your synchronized breathing. "I’ve spent half my life losing people, Y/N. I’ve watched enough friends walk out that door and never come back. I can't be the one who stands by and lets it happen to you, too."
You wanted to say something but you knew that him showing his vulnerability to you like this was taking a lot of courage. Instead, you listened and took every one of his words in.
His hand slid from your shoulders to cup the side of your face, palms rough against your skin but his touch was gentle. "I want you to come home after every mission. No… I need you to come home. Y/N, if you’re not there waiting for me at the end of the day then.. What’s the fucking point of it all?"
Your lips parted at his passionate honesty. Your heart was beating at a rate you felt it had never reached before. The wave of realization imbedded itself deep into your chest. At that moment, you didn’t see your mentor who was a seasoned agent, you saw a man who was truly terrified of a future that didn't include you. The raw and unfiltered desperation in his eyes wasn’t all in your head at all.
"Leon..." Your breathed slowly, composing yourself as your hands moved downwards to intertwine with his. "I’m here. I’m standing right here."
"I know," he whispered, "But I need to know you’ll fight to live and sometimes that means asking for help. Not just because it's the mission..."
He stopped himself from continuing his words again. Your eyes worriedly searched his as you looked for an answer. Your gentle gaze seemed to have given him some reassurance. He shut his eyes tightly before opening them as if he was bracing for the impact of his next words. He's decided to let himself be fully vulnerable with you.
"Fuck, I wait for you every damn day you’re on a mission, rookie."
"I'm terrified." He added. All the walls you both had built to keep your relationship professional suddenly felt fragile, crumbling under the sheer intensity of his gaze.
"You won’t ever lose me, Leon." You whispered, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and pulled him in just a fraction closer. "Every time I'm out there, every time things go to shit… The only thing that keeps me fighting is knowing that I’ll see you after it’s all over."
Leon’s eyes softened yet he was still evidently tense when you confessed. His hands slid to rest on your waist, his hold firm.
"I shouldn't," he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough, strained register. "I'm your mentor, Y/N. Someone older with more experience that's supposed to keep you safe, keep you focused. Not subject you to potential threats or be the reason you're distracted out there."
He let out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh, his forehead dropping against yours. "But, I’ve tried to bury this. I’ve tried to keep that line drawn so firmly that I wouldn't cross it, but every time you come back from a mission that line gets a little harder to see."
You let out a sharp, breathless laugh, your hand sliding up to rest on his shoulder. You weren't going to let his badge or his rank be a shield for his hesitation anymore. You had been needing for this exact moment, for this specific confession, for as long as you had been working under him.
"Leon, look at me," You commanded softly, meeting his conflicted gaze with a steady, unyielding stare. "You talk about lines and duty but you’re forgetting something. I’m a DSO agent because you trained me to be the best and I know exactly what I’m doing. I can think for myself and I can choose for myself."
He looks down at you directly in the eyes, his expression losing its hesitation, replaced by a raw and overwhelming certainty. Your words held conviction in them and he listened attentively as you tugged at his heartstrings.
You took a deep breath before continuing as you felt the intensity of the situation begin to surge through your body. "So let me be clear, I don't care about the risks that come with this. I choose you. I’ve been choosing you every single day and I’m tired of waiting for you to figure out that you’re the only person I want to come home to."
His expression softened, the stern lines of his face collapsing into a look of profound relief. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch lingering. "I've spent so long trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself it was just concern for a rookie of mine. But it's not. There’s not possibility for anyone else. It’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you."
"It’s always been you too, Leon..." you breathed, his name sounding like a prayer in the suffocating silence of the office. You reached up, your own trembling hands resting over his wrists, feeling the rapid, uneven pulse beneath his skin. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"I meant every word I said, rookie." He whispered, his grip tightening just enough to pull you against him.
"I did too." You replied as the weight of his words settled between both of you. Your arms were now resting on his shoulders as the gap between you two started to close.
His eyes traveled to your lips before flickering back up to your eyes, searching for permission.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice stripped of all its usual professional detachment.
"Please." Your words barely came out before he closed the final fraction of space between you.
His soft lips met yours, one hand on your waist while his other cupped the side of your face. He was slowly savoring you, wanting to take his time to forever remember how you tasted in this moment.
It wasn’t long until the gentleness spiraled into something far more desperate and needy. His hands moved to pick you up and sit you on top of his desk, holding you steady as if you were the only solid thing in a world that had tried to take me away from him. All the pent up and unsaid emotions had taken over the both of you.
"Ah, Leon…" You let out a soft moan as he slowly rubbed his knee in between your legs as you two tasted each other, your panties were starting to get soaked.
"I know, baby, I know. So… fuckin’…. perfect…" He let out breathlessly in between kisses.
In this moment, nothing mattered as you both found solace in each other's touch.
— RE9!Leon x DSO Wife!Reader, in which the cursive letters on your arms provide comfort in the middle of a mission. (a little intense but it’s fluff overall!)
The radio crackled against your ear as you shot another infected away with a bullet to their head. Blood splattered across the concrete beneath your boots as another corpse collapsed, only for two more to lunge at you from the darkness. Your muscles have started to burn out from exhaustion, every movement was slower than the last.
“L-Leon?” you panted before firing another shot. “Leon, answer me.”
Nothing.
Only static.
Your heart sank.
The explosion that had separated you both nearly fifteen minutes ago replayed in your mind.
You and Leon decided to investigate Raccoon City for further information on “Elpis”. One moment, you were fighting shoulder to shoulder like how it’s always been. However, before you knew it, whatever remained of the buildings in Raccoon City had collapsed, sending a humongous pile of concrete and steel crashing between you. The debris was quickly flooding the gap between you two, forcing each of you to run in opposite directions.
You swallowed hard as another body hit the floor. You should’ve figured that a barren place like Raccoon City would not hold up well.
“Leon, please-”
Static hissed once more before a familiar voice finally broke through.
“…Still here.”
The relief that washed over you was almost enough to make you forget about your wounds.
“God, you scared me.”
“So did you,” he answered, his voice rough and laced with fatigue. In the background, you could hear rapid gunfire, followed by the pounding sound of something heavy collapsing onto the ground. “You disappeared off of my tracker, Y/N.”
You sighed at his response, “You disappeared off mine.”
A faint, breathless chuckle escaped him.
“Guess we’re even.”
Despite everything, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You alright?”
“Feel like a million bucks.” Only Leon Kennedy would say a one-liner in a life or death situation.
“I’ve got company.”
“How many?”
He pauses at your question.
“…Lost count. You?”
You glanced around at the bodies littering the corridor before another swarm of infected came into view from afar.
“Well I stopped counting after thirty.”
“Hm. Show-off.” He faintly smiled to himself. He trained you well and he’s more than proud of you for that.
“Oh, please. I know you’ve got twice that.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, hon.”
“Liar.” You quickly replied back with laugh.
“I was being humble.”
“Kennedy, you don’t know how to be humble.”
“I do and hey, that’s your last name now too.”
“Right, but you really don’t.”
Chuckling at your bickering, you both almost felt normal. Odd as it is, your sarcastic exchanges and his one liners in the middle of complete chaos had always grounded you.
Your laughs were cut short as the radio filled with another burst of gunfire.
You winced and snapped back to the horde in front of you, aiming and firing once again. The strain on your muscles felt impossible to ignore. Nonetheless, you eventually seemed to have wiped out almost all of those sickening creatures.
You heard a sudden groan from him, “Fuck, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” The cough he let out after replying implied otherwise.
“Leon.” You replied sternly.
“I’m fine, Y/N.”
“You know you always say that right before I find you bleeding.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you’re stubborn enough to keep coming back for me.” His words lingered in your heart in the silence that followed.
The horde finally began to thin. One by one, the infected fell until the only sound left was the ringing in your ears and your own ragged breathing.
“I… I think I’ve cleared most of them out.”
You breathlessly sat down on the floor, leaning heavily against a cracked concrete pillar as you placed your gun back into your holster.
“Good, I’m coming to look for you. I can tell you’re exhausted, hold on for me.”
Suddenly, you jolted as the signal shrieked in your ear with interference. His voice cut in and out through the static.
“—moving east! interference—Y/N—”
“I can’t hear you, Leon!”
More static.
Then…
Nothing.
The line went dead.
“…Leon?”
Silence.
“Fuck!” Your hand quickly lowered from your earpiece as the weight of being truly alone settled over you. For the first time since the mission began, there wasn’t even the comfort of hearing his breathing.
Exhausted out of your mind, you stared at the floor for a long moment before your eyes drifted down to your forearm.
Small and elegant black cursive initials rested just beneath your sleeve.
L.K.
Your thumb brushed gently over the healed ink. Usually hidden, it was small enough that most people never noticed it. To you, however, it carried more meaning than anything else you owned.
It wasn’t just simply his name, it was a promise the two of you had made on an ordinary afternoon in a tiny tattoo studio a while back. Neither of you cared much for tattoos but seeing that it would be risky to wear your wedding rings out on missions, you both evidently decided on these small permanent reminders.
Miles away, Leon leaned against a beaten up concrete wall just as you did. He places his hand on his chest, rising and falling until he finally caught his breath. His earpiece had gone silent, ears filled with nothing but lifeless static. He tried your name once more anyway.
“…Y/N? I lost signal for a second. Do you read me?”
Nothing.
With a tired sigh, he let his hand fall away. His sleeve had been ripped during the fight, exposing your small delicate cursive initials inked along his forearm.
Y/F/I. K.
He silently traced the letters with his thumb, remembering the day you had laughed at him for sitting through the tattooing process with no emotion.
The memory felt quite distant now.
Yet somehow, seeing your name there steadied him. You were alive. Somewhere inside this ruined city, you were still fighting just as hard as he was.
He stood up, set with quiet determination.
“No matter where you are…”
He pushed himself away from the wall, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and disappeared into the smoke-filled corridor.
“…I’ll find my way back to you.”
a/n; AAA CORNY LOL but i kid you not i have been listening to the bridge of criminal on repeat. i had to write a little something t^t
also, don’t let me restrict your imagination of what that tattoo would be initials are just what i had in mind :p
like always, this isn’t the best but if you enjoyed it and you’re indulgent like me then im happy !! i’ve also read like a couple headcanons on tumblr and tiktok that leon would get a tattoo in case he couldn’t bring his wedding ring around so that inspired me too! wish i could write better but i hope you enjoyed 🥹
pls could you write rookie reader x re9 leon who seems annoyed mentoring her and just her presence in general but he rly just has a crush on her and doesn’t know why. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense i’m tired asf
heyyy so I hope you like this.
Rookie Mistake
Pairings: re9! leon kennedy x rookie!reader
Warnings: age gap, reader is over 25 years of age, Leon is 49, Leon lives in denial, grumpy Leon, idiots in love, internal monologue on Leon's side.
Word count: 3.7k
The first time Leon was assigned to mentor you, he made it clear through his posture and his tone that he considered it an inconvenience he hadn't asked for and didn't particularly want. He leaned against the doorframe of the briefing room with his arms crossed and his jaw set in a way that made you think he had already decided you would be more trouble than you were worth, and he barely looked at you when the division chief introduced the two of you and told him that you were sharp, capable, and ready for field work.
"I'm sure she's fine, but I don't really have room in my schedule for this right now," he said to the chief, not bothering to lower his voice even though you were standing close enough to hear every word of it.
You held out your hand anyway and told him it was nice to meet him, and he shook it for exactly as long as politeness required before turning back to the folder in his other hand, and you told yourself that his coldness didn't matter because you weren't here to make friends, you were here to prove that you belonged in this line of work despite how young you looked and how many people assumed that meant you were inexperienced.
You quickly learned that Leon's irritation wasn't really about you at all, though it took you weeks to understand that, because in the moment all you could feel was the weight of his impatience whenever you asked a question or double checked a procedure before acting on it.
"You don't need to ask me before every single step, you're allowed to just make a decision," he told you once.
It sharper than the situation called for, and when you asked quietly whether he wanted you to stop checking in altogether, he sighed and said, "No, that's not what I said, just use your head a little more and trust yourself," which left you no closer to understanding what exactly he wanted from you.
He would sigh through his nose and repeat instructions in a clipped voice, and you would nod and adjust and try again, determined not to let him see how much his tone stung, because you respected him too much to let your pride get in the way of learning from someone who had survived things you had only read about in training manuals.
What you didn't know was that his sharpness came from something closer to fear than annoyance, a fear that he refused to name even to himself, and that every time you got hurt on a drill or hesitated a half second too long in a simulation, something in his chest tightened in a way he didn't like and didn't understand.
I don't have time to babysit someone who still flinches at flashbangs, he told himself after a training exercise where you'd stumbled at a loud noise and lost your footing for a moment before recovering and finishing the course anyway, and he repeated that thought to himself several more times over the following days as if saying it enough would make it true.
When you apologized for the stumble afterward, telling him it wouldn't happen again, he only shrugged and said, "It happens, just don't let it happen twice," in a tone that was gruff but not unkind, and something about the way he said it stuck with you longer than you expected it to.
He noticed the way you gritted your teeth and pushed through the exhaustion of a six hour drill without complaining once, and the way you took his criticism without arguing back even when he could tell from the look in your eyes that you thought he was being unnecessarily harsh, and he told himself none of that meant anything beyond simple professionalism on your part.
He was good at lying to himself back then, or at least he thought he was, and it would take him a long time to realize how poorly that particular lie was holding together.
Weeks passed and the two of you fell into something like a rhythm, the kind that develops between two people who spend most of their working hours in close proximity whether they mean to or not. You started to notice that Leon's short answers during briefings weren't dismissiveness but exhaustion, that the tension in his shoulders came from years of carrying more weight than one person should have to carry, and slowly you stopped taking his gruffness personally and started meeting it with a patience that surprised him more than he let on.
You would bring him coffee before early briefings without being asked, remembering exactly how he took it because you paid attention to small details the same way you paid attention to everything else, and the first time you handed it to him he looked at the cup for a moment before saying,
"You didn't have to do that, but thanks," in a voice quieter than his usual clipped delivery, and after that it simply became a small routine neither of you commented on again.
It was during a routine debrief after a joint exercise that Leon first noticed how naturally you filled in the gaps he left in his own reports, correcting minor details without making him look incompetent in front of the review board, offering clarifications in a calm and measured voice that made the whole room relax a little.
When a senior officer pressed you on a decision you'd made mid exercise, questioning whether it had been reckless, you looked him steadily in the eye and said, "It wasn't reckless, it was calculated, and the outcome proved the calculation was right," without a trace of defensiveness in your tone, and the officer had nothing left to say in response.
Leon sat there watching you speak with an ease and confidence that he hadn't expected from someone barely into this line of work, and something in him shifted, quiet and unannounced, the way weather changes before anyone notices the sky has gone a different color. He didn't have a name for it yet, only a vague awareness that he found himself watching you more than the situation required and that the watching didn't feel like supervision anymore.
This is just professional respect, he reasoned with himself on the drive home that night, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly for someone simply thinking about a colleague's competence. You respect good work. That's all this is. He replayed the debrief in his head anyway, the sound of your voice steady and sure even when a senior officer had tried to poke holes in your reasoning, the way you hadn't backed down but hadn't been arrogant about it either, just clear and grounded in what you knew to be true. He told himself that admiration for someone's skill was not the same thing as anything more complicated, and for a while, that distinction held, mostly because he needed it to.
The shift became harder to ignore during longer missions, the ones that kept the two of you in close quarters for days at a stretch, sharing cramped vehicles and quiet meals and the particular kind of conversation that settles between two people who have started to trust each other completely.
During one long drive between safehouses, you asked him, out of nowhere, what had made him want to do this job in the first place, and he was quiet for a moment before answering honestly, telling you about the mistakes of his early years and how he'd spent a long time trying to make up for them, and you listened without judgment and told him, "I think most people who are good at this job got that way by surviving something, not by being perfect from the start," which settled something in him he hadn't expected to need settling.
You learned to read his moods from the set of his shoulders before he said a word, and he learned that you hummed old songs under your breath when you were concentrating on something delicate, a habit you probably didn't even know you had.
He found himself listening for that humming during stakeouts, waiting for it the way some people wait for good news, and he hated how much comfort it gave him, how the sound of it settled something restless in his chest that had been restless for longer than he wanted to admit.
There was a night on one of those missions when things went wrong quickly, a target slipping past a perimeter that should have held, and in the chaos that followed you moved without hesitation to cover a blind spot that Leon hadn't accounted for, putting yourself between danger and a civilian without waiting for instruction because you had already calculated the risk and decided it was worth taking.
Leon watched it happen from several yards away with his heart lodged somewhere in his throat, and when the situation resolved itself safely a few tense minutes later, he grabbed your arm harder than he meant to and said, "What the hell was that, you don't move like that without clearing it with me first," his voice rougher than he intended, more frightened than angry underneath it.
You looked at him steadily, unbothered by his anger because you understood by then that it came from somewhere other than disapproval, and said, "I made the right call and you know it, there wasn't time to clear anything," and the fact that you were right only made him angrier in the moment and more shaken once he was alone.
I can't lose her, he thought that night, sitting on the edge of a motel bed with his head in his hands, and the thought arrived so suddenly and with such force that it startled him more than anything that had happened on the mission itself.
He sat with that sentence for a long time, turning it over, trying to make it mean something smaller and safer than what it obviously meant, and failing every time he tried. This is not what a mentor is supposed to feel. This is not what any of this is supposed to be. He thought about the years between the two of you, the ones that felt smaller every day he spent working alongside you, and the authority he still technically held over your assignments, and every argument he could construct against what he was feeling stacked up neatly in his mind and did absolutely nothing to change how he felt.
He tried, for a while, to put distance between the two of you, keeping conversations strictly professional and finding reasons to hand off certain briefings to other agents instead of conducting them himself.
You noticed the change immediately because you noticed everything about him by then, though you didn't understand the reason behind it and assumed you had done something to disappoint him, which needled at you more than you wanted to admit given how much his opinion of you had come to matter over the months you'd worked together.
You started double checking your work more obsessively than before, staying later to review case files, quietly hoping to close whatever gap had opened between the two of you without knowing that the gap existed only in his head and had nothing to do with your performance at all.
Leon noticed the toll his distance was taking on you within a matter of days, watching you push yourself harder than necessary and stay later than your shifts required, and it undid whatever resolve he'd built up almost instantly.
He found you alone in the office late one evening, hunched over a stack of files with dark circles forming under your eyes, and he sat down across from you and asked, "Hey, is everything alright with you? You've been staying later than you need to," in a voice softer than the one he usually used at work.
When you admitted quietly that you were worried you'd disappointed him somehow, that you couldn't figure out what had changed between the two of you, he felt something crack open in his chest that he'd been holding together with sheer stubbornness for weeks.
"You didn't disappoint me, not even a little," he said, shaking his head, "the problem was entirely mine, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to fix something that was never broken on your end."
She thinks she did something wrong, he thought, watching the worry in your expression, and the guilt that flooded through him was sharp and immediate. All because I couldn't handle my own feelings like an adult.
You watched him carefully, sensing that something larger was sitting just beneath the surface of his words, and you asked, gently, "Is there something you want to tell me, Leon?" and he looked at you for a long moment before saying, "Not yet, but someday, when I figure out how to say it right," and you didn't push, because you had learned by then that Leon spoke in his own time and pressuring him rarely worked.
The two of you fell back into your old rhythm gradually after that night, though something between you had shifted in a way neither of you named out loud.
Leon found himself less guarded around you, offering small observations about his own past that he rarely shared with anyone, and you responded with the same openness, trusting him with pieces of yourself that had nothing to do with the job.
One evening, after you'd told him a story from your childhood that made him laugh harder than he had in months, he looked at you and said, "You know, I don't think I've laughed like that in years," and you told him, smiling, "Then I guess I'll just have to keep telling you stories," not realizing how much that offer would come to mean to him.
I admire her, he admitted to himself one evening, sitting alone in his apartment with a beer he'd barely touched, finally letting the thought sit without immediately arguing against it.
Her work ethic, her patience, the way she handles pressure better than people twice her experience.
He thought about the countless times you'd proven yourself capable under conditions that would have broken people with far more years in the field, and how you never seemed to need anyone's approval to know your own worth, though he found himself wanting to give it anyway, wanting you to know exactly how much he'd come to respect you.
He thought, too, about how easy it had become to be around you, how the tension he used to carry into every shift had eased into something that felt, for the first time in longer than he could remember, almost like comfort.
It was another few weeks before Leon let himself think the word that he'd been circling around without landing on directly, and even then it arrived almost by accident, during an ordinary afternoon when you were laughing at something one of your colleagues had said and the sound of it carried across the room and found him before he even looked up.
He watched you for a moment longer than he should have, taking in the way your eyes crinkled and the easy warmth in your expression, and the word simply arrived in his mind without permission, quiet and certain in a way none of his earlier denials had been.
I have a crush on her, he thought, and the plainness of the realization almost made him laugh out loud at himself, at how long he had fought against something so simple and so obviously true.
This is a mess, he thought immediately afterward, because acknowledging the feeling did nothing to resolve the complications that came with it.
She's my mentee. I've spent months telling myself this was mentorship, respect, admiration, anything but this, and it turns out it was this the whole time.
He thought about the imbalance that still technically existed between you, even though you had long since proven yourself more than capable of standing on your own, and he worried that anything he said or did might make you feel obligated in a way that had nothing to do with genuine feeling on your part.
He told himself, again, that saying nothing was the safer choice, the more responsible choice, and for the first time that argument didn't hold the same weight it used to, because he had started to notice, in small quiet ways, that you might feel something back.
You had, in fact, felt something shifting in yourself for a while by then, though you'd been just as reluctant as Leon to give it a name, telling yourself that your comfort around him was simply the natural result of months spent working closely together and building trust the hard way.
One night, a colleague had teased you lightly, asking whether you and Leon were more than partners at this point, and you had laughed it off and said, "We're just close because of the job," even though the words felt thinner in your mouth than you expected them to.
You found yourself looking forward to shifts with him more than you used to, noticing the way his expression softened when he thought no one was watching, and the quiet moments the two of you shared over case files and long car rides home had started to feel like something you looked forward to rather than simply endured.
You hadn't expected to feel this way about someone who outranked you and had years of experience you were still working to catch up to, and the thought of saying anything terrified you enough that you kept it carefully to yourself.
The moment that finally pushed Leon toward doing something about his feelings came on an ordinary evening after a long shift, the kind where nothing dramatic happened and the two of you were simply walking to the parking garage together, trading easy conversation about nothing important.
You told him a joke that landed better than you expected, and he laughed, really laughed, in a way he didn't do often, and when he looked over at you afterward and saw you smiling at having caused it, something settled in him with a clarity he hadn't felt before.
I don't want to keep pretending this is nothing, he thought, walking beside you under the dim garage lighting, feeling something steady and sure replace the nervous uncertainty that had followed him for months.
Whatever this is, I want to know if she feels it too, and I'd rather know and be wrong than never ask at all.
He stopped walking before you reached your car, and you turned back toward him with a question already forming on your face, sensing that something had shifted in his mood. "Can I say something, and I need you to just let me get through it before you say anything back?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you'd noticed he only did when he was genuinely nervous rather than simply tired.
You nodded, your heart picking up pace without your permission, and waited while he gathered whatever words he'd been building up the courage to say for longer than either of you knew.
"When they first assigned me to mentor you, I really didn't want to do it, and I made that pretty obvious, and I'm not proud of that," he began, his voice low and careful in a way you rarely heard from him.
"But somewhere along the way, working with you turned into the best part of my week, and I spent months telling myself that what I felt for you was just respect, just admiration for how good you are at this job, and none of that was a lie exactly, but it also wasn't the whole truth." He paused there, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you directly.
"I know the timing is complicated, and I know there's history between us that makes this messier than it probably should be, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and I didn't want to keep pretending otherwise." He took a breath and finally asked, "Would you want to have dinner with me sometime, not as your mentor, just as two people who've clearly come to mean something to each other?"
You stood there for a moment simply looking at him, feeling something warm and enormous rising in your chest at hearing him say out loud the thing you had been too afraid to admit even to yourself, and when you finally answered, your voice came out steadier than you expected given how hard your heart was pounding. "I was hoping you'd ask," you told him, a smile spreading across your face that you didn't bother trying to hide.
"I've spent just as long convincing myself that what I felt for you was just gratitude, just respect, and it turns out I was lying to myself too. Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you, whenever you're free."
Leon's expression shifted from nervousness into something bright and almost boyish, an expression you'd never seen on him before, and the two of you stood there in the quiet parking garage smiling at each other like the whole complicated weight of the last several months had finally settled into something simple and good.
Neither of you moved to hug or kiss in that moment, content instead to simply stand there in the aftermath of finally saying the truth out loud, letting the relief of it settle over both of you like something warm after a long cold stretch.
Leon walked you to your car afterward with his hands in his pockets and a small persistent smile that he didn't bother hiding, and before you got in he said, "I'll pick the restaurant, if you'll let me, I already have somewhere in mind," and you told him, "That sounds perfect, I can't wait."
You drove home that night replaying the conversation over and over, hardly able to believe that the same man who had once seemed so annoyed by your presence had spent months quietly falling for you the same way you had been falling for him, and somewhere in the city Leon sat in his own car for a long moment before starting the engine, feeling lighter than he had in longer than he could remember, finally letting himself believe that wanting something good for himself wasn't a mistake after all.
Once the elevator reaches the secret floor, you’re met by a hallway with vintage, wine-colored carpet and various art paintings lining the dark walls. The place looks old, which does not come as a surprise considering the hotel’s age, but everything seems to be maintained with utmost care.
Leon keeps himself one step ahead of you in a protective stance, his fingers twitching for a gun he doesn't have, and his body missing the heat of yours now that he’s forced to put distance between you. He’s not sure where this is leading, but he has a bad feeling growing in his chest.
To make matters worse, the signal here seems to be nonexistent—your attempt to call Hunnigan through your bracelet having failed miserably. You can't go back for fear of being detected, so with no choice but to advance, both your steps are careful yet hurried as you continue down the long corridor.
After passing a few gates that wouldn't open without special codes—Pop-pop’s birthday could only get you so far—you finally come across a set of double doors with a plaque on the wall that reads ‘Viewing Room.’ Observing it closer, the golden slab seems brand new in contrast with the place’s antique appearance, like it had just been installed there not too long ago.
With your interest peaked, you watch Leon try the handle, and to your surprise, it yields open. He keeps an arm outstretched in your path that signals you to stay back as he peeps through the crack and frowns at whatever he sees.
You can’t wait any longer, so you slide under him and peek as well, prompting him to huff. But, he doesn't say anything considering the room inside already has a couple of people who appear to be waiting staff. From your spot, it looks like a home cinema. A luxurious one, with comfortable leather recliners and trays of food and drinks on small tables—a cinephile's dream.
But what makes you frown along Leon is what's playing on the big screen. It doesn't show a movie, or a show, or whatever documentary aristocrats are interested in. Instead, it’s a split display of multiple news channels—all the main ones, in addition to local stations of the DMV area.
You would think it's simply an idle screen to prepare for the night’s show, but it seems a deliberate choice as each broadcast has a quadrant surrounding its frame that reads a countdown timer of about one hour.
A timer in a secret villain lair can never mean a good thing.
Eddy’s words suddenly echo through your mind, ‘you will find out about it tomorrow—everyone will.’ Whatever is planned to happen tonight, seems to be important enough to be relayed by national news, and that has your heart racing in apprehension.
“What do we do now?” you whisper at Leon, fully aware of how you always seem to seek out his guidance in times of stress.
He looks at you with gentle warmth, a familiar feeling of adoration spreading through his chest at the sight of you. But his expression quickly morphs into something more serious as he thinks through the next step.
The choice is made for him, however, when incoming footsteps are heard, no doubt those of the guests that were upstairs. He grabs your hand and leads you where the hallway takes a sharp turn, keeping a secure grip on you as he presses his back on the wall and you mirror his movement.
From there, you hear chatter of various voices, different conversations taking place at the same time. They seem to be heading towards the viewing room, and you strain to pick up on any valuable piece of information.
“I can assure you, you will be amazed by its effectiveness,” a male voice speaks and Leon peeks past the corner just enough to spot Adams. “I was explaining before to Eddy—who seems to be running late, by the way—about how conclusive the trials have been. Even if we were interrupted during that last batch.”
“I’m sorry again about your wife, Marcus,” a tall man replies, and gestures to the scientist to head inside the room. From his amber locks, the agent can guess it's Eddy’s brother.
“Thank you, Rob… It hasn't been easy…”
After that, the conversation grows muffled as the men disappear from the hallway with a couple more guests following. You stay quiet, still holding hands with Leon, until quietness returns and the door shuts.
“He’s demonstrating 'effectiveness,’” the blonde sighs in exasperation. “So I guess they're planning on testing the chips… Which means people are in imminent danger if that timer is anything to go by.”
“Why do rich people suck ass so bad?” you huff, and he responds with a squeeze to your palm.
“I don't know, kiddo, but this shit never ends…”
Leon knows an hour is an awfully short amount of time, and the DSO needs to be alerted as fast as possible to try and prevent what could possibly be a bioterrorist attack. He has no idea how many people are at risk, but those screens showed various locations in the area, including D.C. It’s bad enough if even one person gets their brains turned into mush, let alone multiple.
“Wait, look,” you suddenly interrupt his thoughts with a pointed finger.
Down the hallway, a red ‘EXIT’ sign shines by a gate to your great relief. As soon as you’re out, you can call Hunnigan, and backup can be brought in to fix the situation.
This time, it's you who pulls Leon along, and he feels his heart stutter as you lead the way with your focused expression. He knows that deep inside, you feel guilty about the earlier moment with Eddy, even though it was him who inserted himself in your plan. He has to admit, though, he could get used to holding hands with you on missions—he just hopes he doesn't have to deal with any more involuntary cucking as a trade-off.
Pushing the heavy door open, you find yourselves in an emergency staircase and sigh of relief. Even villains seem to be aware of fire safety. But as you’re about to ascend to reach back a level with signal, you notice a sign with an arrow pointing downstairs: ‘Security.’
“Do you think there's camera feeds of this place down there?” you raise an eyebrow at Leon, and he already knows your plan.
“Probably… But before we do that, we call Ingrid first.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Fifteen minutes later, HQ has been informed when you were able to catch radio transmission up the stairs, and you're currently making your way back down knowing a team will arrive soon enough to further investigate. For now, you’re just grateful no one is present in the vicinity.
Despite Leon’s protests asking you to leave to go find Martin and Ferreira, you stubbornly insisted on following along, especially with the timer in mind.
“I don't have time to go find them and then get back down. I’m sure the emergency doors are locked anyway, because then anyone would be able to get in here.”
The agent rolls his eyes as you continue on your tangent on why your presence is necessary, and only stop once you reach the lower level and immediately find a guard scrolling on his phone by the entrance.
You both freeze in place, and the man slowly lifts his head with a confused expression. “Are you with the party? Sorry, but this is a restricted area.”
“Oh, so sorry! We were looking for the, uh, washroom,” you mumble out a lie.
“In the fire escape?” He arches a brow and straightens his posture. Eyeing you in suspicion, he then focuses on the blonde as if sizing him up, before slowly reaching for his holstered gun.
A beat passes where no one moves, until, suddenly, Leon lurches to land a fist square on the man’s jaw, knocking him down faster than he can withdraw his firearm.
“Jesus Christ, Leon!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him lower the man’s unconscious body to the floor.
“Too much?” he chuckles lowly, then grabs the guard’s weapon and badge. “Couldn't risk it.”
You shake your head, and yank the ID tag from his grasp before touching it to the door’s lock so it opens with a beep. “That was the old cop in you that came out just now.”
“Hey! I’m trying to keep us alive here,” Leon scoffs, dragging the limp body inside as you hold the gate open for him. “Plus, we only have like…” a pause, and he checks his watch with a grumble “...forty minutes left. So move it, rookie.”
Huffing and puffing, you help him settle the man in a supply closet, moving cleaning supplies out of the way and taking care to immobilize his wrists behind him with his own tie.
Once done, you both stand with an exhale, the agent appreciating your handy work of the makeshift restraints.
“I taught you that one,” he grins proudly, and you nudge his elbow with a soft smile.
“You taught me everything.”
A warmth settles in his chest at your words, and as he watches your expression, he can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the way you still look so much like your younger self. You grew up, your features that of a woman rather than a girl, but your heart has remained unchanged—devoted as ever.
He looks back down at the guard, at the way you just helped him tie up an underpaid worker who is probably just doing his job, and a wave of that familiar guilt hits him again.
The worst part is he doesn't even feel that bad for the passed out man. He probably knew his employers are shady people, so it's kind of on him for working here in the first place… No, he feels bad for you. For the fact you even have to be a part of any of this to begin with.
“Sometimes, I wish I didn't,” he whispers before he can stop himself.
You frown at his words, hurt blooming in your heart at his apparent regret over having you under his wing. You subconsciously take a step away from him, crossing your arms protectively.
“Are you still on about me picking the wrong job?”
Leon winces at the bitterness in your tone, but he won't lie to you. Not when he has so many things he needs to make right.
“You know I will never change my mind when it comes to that.”
He gives you one more lingering glance, before walking past you and back out into the hall of the security floor. You follow silently, ruminating on your own thoughts as you try to figure out once again his mysterious emotions.
“But you still helped me…” you point out quietly. “You still used every card in your deck to help me make it up until here.”
He pauses, turning to you with a melancholic smile that nearly makes you want to cry from how sad he looks. You hate to see him so seemingly sorrowful simply because of the career choices you made.
“And I would do it again if it makes you happy, kid,” he murmurs, his deep voice barely audible in the eerie place. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”
Sighing from an odd mix of relief and pain, you nod with a small smile. “I know… And I would too.”
Leon doesn't like how easily you return his promise, but he knows your love for him runs deep, and for that he is infinitely grateful—despite how much the guilt it causes burns.
A short while later, you were able to lock two more guards in a bathroom while they were using the urinals. A handy, specialized door wedge did the trick—compliments of Hunnigan. As for their radios, you stuck a small signal jammer on the wall that should be enough for a few feet radius. Finally, Leon started leading the way towards the controls, gun in hand, with the distant banging on the bathroom door serving as background noise.
You’re able to view inside the desired room through a thick glass window on the metal gate. It looks empty. Good. You then use the badge on the card reader to let you both inside.
What you expected to be a regular, boring security room with a few camera feeds and old desk chairs, turned out to be sterile white walls and sleek command panels with a thousand buttons. This is all most certainly recently built.
“What even is this place?” Leon frowns, his eyes landing on an array of screens.
Walking closer, you discern random numbers, location names, and multiple countdown timers. None of it really makes sense, but on one of the monitors you find the camera feed you were hoping for of the gathering upstairs.
“There,” you point and move to try and figure out the control panel to get it to play sound. It takes a short while, but you seem to finally get a hang of how the computer system operates.
From your peripheral vision, you notice Leon watching you intently with a small, appreciative smile and he can't help but compliment you. “You know you’ve always had a knack for these things.”
“The one thing you didn't teach me,” you tease and he rolls his eyes playfully.
A moment later, and sound finally comes through so you’re able to listen in on the group of elites who appear to be watching Adams speak as he seemingly delivers a speech.
“—with staggered releases, we’ll watch public reaction slowly increase into panic, which is our goal of course. But this is first and foremost a test run, so all you lovely ladies and gents can decide the worthiness of the product.”
Through the grainy quality of the monitor, you see the tall redhead from earlier, Eddy’s brother, straighten in his seat. “Can you explain the details of the plan again for those unfamiliar.”
“With pleasure,” Adams smiles crookedly, then readjusts his red tie before continuing. “Once we have the reaction desired, we simply offer the solution to the problem: a preventative cure.”
You frown, leaning closer to listen to the man spilling the valuable secrets you have been seeking, and Leon seems just as intrigued as you.
“You see, the goal is for this to be sold as a virus rather than a targeted attack. Which is why the strikes will happen within specific areas, to simulate the spread of a disease that only we have the ‘vaccine’ against.”
“But there is no vaccine,” a woman concludes at the back of the room.
“Correct. We will administer placebo injections, but in reality we can disable the M2423—or the chips—remotely… As long as we hit focal areas, like our beloved capital, the threat will be taken seriously enough that a cure for this new, deadly and contagious 'disease’ will be the number one sought after solution.”
There’s a silence in the room that matches yours and Leon’s. You can feel your heart beating in your temples from adrenaline at hearing the terrible plans these deranged people have for the night.
Edd Chastain is the one who speaks next after blowing out cigar smoke—seemingly a family favorite. “How did you get these things inside of them again?”
“We had different hospital locations tamper with common vaccines and shots—flu, MMR, hepatitis, vitamin K etc.”
The last mention has you freezing in place, your heart lurching in your chest and prompting Leon to look at you warily.
“What is it?” He steps closer, his frown deepening.
“Vitamin K… That’s given to newborns,” you whisper in shock. “I-I remember Claire explaining this to me when Gabby was born. They’re—fuck, they're putting brain exploding chips inside fucking newborns…”
Before the agent by your side can process the stomach churning news, Chastain speaks again in an arrogant tone.
“This sounds all fine and dandy until they can trace the injections back to you. Then what?”
Adams purses his lips, but he smiles nonetheless. “No worries, my team and I have started this process many months ago thanks to our generous early benefactors such as you, Mr. Chastain... It would be virtually impossible to conclude that a vaccine someone had last spring is the reason for their sudden demise now.”
“How many targets tonight?” the woman in the back asks.
“We have eight transmitters ready to release the sound frequencies that will trigger the bursts, and two targets for each. Which means sixteen total.”
“Sixteen people is not a lot. I don't see how this will prompt the government to want to rapidly invest in a cure,” Edd waves a dismissive hand, making his golden watch catch in the dimmed light.
You see Leon visibly twitch at the nonchalance exhibited by the participants of this unhinged conversation, and he seems to have officially reached his limit.
“Alright, fuck these wastes of oxygen,” he grits out, tightening his hold on the borrowed gun. “I’m running upstairs to let HQ know about this bullshit, and then I’ll come back to deal with these fuckers myself.”
“Count me in,” you mutter, and the both of you are about to turn on your heels when Marcus Adams’ voice comes through again.
“Well, Mr. Chastain, you’ll be happy to know I have a target that is sure to cause a stir… You see, the day my beloved Caitriona sacrificed herself for this project—after some government lackeys interfered—we were able to momentarily get a hold of one of them by subduing him…” he pauses, letting suspense fill the room before continuing. “If my deductions are correct, we have infected a DSO worker—meaning someone who operates directly under the president. Now if that doesn't get their attention, then I don't know what will.”
Time completely halts around you when you realize the agent they 'momentarily got a hold of’ is none other than the one standing beside you, his blue eyes wide in shock as he comes to the same conclusion.
Once the elevator reaches the secret floor, you’re met by a hallway with vintage, wine-colored carpet and various art paintings lining the dark walls. The place looks old, which does not come as a surprise considering the hotel’s age, but everything seems to be maintained with utmost care.
Leon keeps himself one step ahead of you in a protective stance, his fingers twitching for a gun he doesn't have, and his body missing the heat of yours now that he’s forced to put distance between you. He’s not sure where this is leading, but he has a bad feeling growing in his chest.
To make matters worse, the signal here seems to be nonexistent—your attempt to call Hunnigan through your bracelet having failed miserably. You can't go back for fear of being detected, so with no choice but to advance, both your steps are careful yet hurried as you continue down the long corridor.
After passing a few gates that wouldn't open without special codes—Pop-pop’s birthday could only get you so far—you finally come across a set of double doors with a plaque on the wall that reads ‘Viewing Room.’ Observing it closer, the golden slab seems brand new in contrast with the place’s antique appearance, like it had just been installed there not too long ago.
With your interest peaked, you watch Leon try the handle, and to your surprise, it yields open. He keeps an arm outstretched in your path that signals you to stay back as he peeps through the crack and frowns at whatever he sees.
You can’t wait any longer, so you slide under him and peek as well, prompting him to huff. But, he doesn't say anything considering the room inside already has a couple of people who appear to be waiting staff. From your spot, it looks like a home cinema. A luxurious one, with comfortable leather recliners and trays of food and drinks on small tables—a cinephile's dream.
But what makes you frown along Leon is what's playing on the big screen. It doesn't show a movie, or a show, or whatever documentary aristocrats are interested in. Instead, it’s a split display of multiple news channels—all the main ones, in addition to local stations of the DMV area.
You would think it's simply an idle screen to prepare for the night’s show, but it seems a deliberate choice as each broadcast has a quadrant surrounding its frame that reads a countdown timer of about one hour.
A timer in a secret villain lair can never mean a good thing.
Eddy’s words suddenly echo through your mind, ‘you will find out about it tomorrow—everyone will.’ Whatever is planned to happen tonight, seems to be important enough to be relayed by national news, and that has your heart racing in apprehension.
“What do we do now?” you whisper at Leon, fully aware of how you always seem to seek out his guidance in times of stress.
He looks at you with gentle warmth, a familiar feeling of adoration spreading through his chest at the sight of you. But his expression quickly morphs into something more serious as he thinks through the next step.
The choice is made for him, however, when incoming footsteps are heard, no doubt those of the guests that were upstairs. He grabs your hand and leads you where the hallway takes a sharp turn, keeping a secure grip on you as he presses his back on the wall and you mirror his movement.
From there, you hear chatter of various voices, different conversations taking place at the same time. They seem to be heading towards the viewing room, and you strain to pick up on any valuable piece of information.
“I can assure you, you will be amazed by its effectiveness,” a male voice speaks and Leon peeks past the corner just enough to spot Adams. “I was explaining before to Eddy—who seems to be running late, by the way—about how conclusive the trials have been. Even if we were interrupted during that last batch.”
“I’m sorry again about your wife, Marcus,” a tall man replies, and gestures to the scientist to head inside the room. From his amber locks, the agent can guess it's Eddy’s brother.
“Thank you, Rob… It hasn't been easy…”
After that, the conversation grows muffled as the men disappear from the hallway with a couple more guests following. You stay quiet, still holding hands with Leon, until quietness returns and the door shuts.
“He’s demonstrating 'effectiveness,’” the blonde sighs in exasperation. “So I guess they're planning on testing the chips… Which means people are in imminent danger if that timer is anything to go by.”
“Why do rich people suck ass so bad?” you huff, and he responds with a squeeze to your palm.
“I don't know, kiddo, but this shit never ends…”
Leon knows an hour is an awfully short amount of time, and the DSO needs to be alerted as fast as possible to try and prevent what could possibly be a bioterrorist attack. He has no idea how many people are at risk, but those screens showed various locations in the area, including D.C. It’s bad enough if even one person gets their brains turned into mush, let alone multiple.
“Wait, look,” you suddenly interrupt his thoughts with a pointed finger.
Down the hallway, a red ‘EXIT’ sign shines by a gate to your great relief. As soon as you’re out, you can call Hunnigan, and backup can be brought in to fix the situation.
This time, it's you who pulls Leon along, and he feels his heart stutter as you lead the way with your focused expression. He knows that deep inside, you feel guilty about the earlier moment with Eddy, even though it was him who inserted himself in your plan. He has to admit, though, he could get used to holding hands with you on missions—he just hopes he doesn't have to deal with any more involuntary cucking as a trade-off.
Pushing the heavy door open, you find yourselves in an emergency staircase and sigh of relief. Even villains seem to be aware of fire safety. But as you’re about to ascend to reach back a level with signal, you notice a sign with an arrow pointing downstairs: ‘Security.’
“Do you think there's camera feeds of this place down there?” you raise an eyebrow at Leon, and he already knows your plan.
“Probably… But before we do that, we call Ingrid first.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Fifteen minutes later, HQ has been informed when you were able to catch radio transmission up the stairs, and you're currently making your way back down knowing a team will arrive soon enough to further investigate. For now, you’re just grateful no one is present in the vicinity.
Despite Leon’s protests asking you to leave to go find Martin and Ferreira, you stubbornly insisted on following along, especially with the timer in mind.
“I don't have time to go find them and then get back down. I’m sure the emergency doors are locked anyway, because then anyone would be able to get in here.”
The agent rolls his eyes as you continue on your tangent on why your presence is necessary, and only stop once you reach the lower level and immediately find a guard scrolling on his phone by the entrance.
You both freeze in place, and the man slowly lifts his head with a confused expression. “Are you with the party? Sorry, but this is a restricted area.”
“Oh, so sorry! We were looking for the, uh, washroom,” you mumble out a lie.
“In the fire escape?” He arches a brow and straightens his posture. Eyeing you in suspicion, he then focuses on the blonde as if sizing him up, before slowly reaching for his holstered gun.
A beat passes where no one moves, until, suddenly, Leon lurches to land a fist square on the man’s jaw, knocking him down faster than he can withdraw his firearm.
“Jesus Christ, Leon!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him lower the man’s unconscious body to the floor.
“Too much?” he chuckles lowly, then grabs the guard’s weapon and badge. “Couldn't risk it.”
You shake your head, and yank the ID tag from his grasp before touching it to the door’s lock so it opens with a beep. “That was the old cop in you that came out just now.”
“Hey! I’m trying to keep us alive here,” Leon scoffs, dragging the limp body inside as you hold the gate open for him. “Plus, we only have like…” a pause, and he checks his watch with a grumble “...forty minutes left. So move it, rookie.”
Huffing and puffing, you help him settle the man in a supply closet, moving cleaning supplies out of the way and taking care to immobilize his wrists behind him with his own tie.
Once done, you both stand with an exhale, the agent appreciating your handy work of the makeshift restraints.
“I taught you that one,” he grins proudly, and you nudge his elbow with a soft smile.
“You taught me everything.”
A warmth settles in his chest at your words, and as he watches your expression, he can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the way you still look so much like your younger self. You grew up, your features that of a woman rather than a girl, but your heart has remained unchanged—devoted as ever.
He looks back down at the guard, at the way you just helped him tie up an underpaid worker who is probably just doing his job, and a wave of that familiar guilt hits him again.
The worst part is he doesn't even feel that bad for the passed out man. He probably knew his employers are shady people, so it's kind of on him for working here in the first place… No, he feels bad for you. For the fact you even have to be a part of any of this to begin with.
“Sometimes, I wish I didn't,” he whispers before he can stop himself.
You frown at his words, hurt blooming in your heart at his apparent regret over having you under his wing. You subconsciously take a step away from him, crossing your arms protectively.
“Are you still on about me picking the wrong job?”
Leon winces at the bitterness in your tone, but he won't lie to you. Not when he has so many things he needs to make right.
“You know I will never change my mind when it comes to that.”
He gives you one more lingering glance, before walking past you and back out into the hall of the security floor. You follow silently, ruminating on your own thoughts as you try to figure out once again his mysterious emotions.
“But you still helped me…” you point out quietly. “You still used every card in your deck to help me make it up until here.”
He pauses, turning to you with a melancholic smile that nearly makes you want to cry from how sad he looks. You hate to see him so seemingly sorrowful simply because of the career choices you made.
“And I would do it again if it makes you happy, kid,” he murmurs, his deep voice barely audible in the eerie place. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”
Sighing from an odd mix of relief and pain, you nod with a small smile. “I know… And I would too.”
Leon doesn't like how easily you return his promise, but he knows your love for him runs deep, and for that he is infinitely grateful—despite how much the guilt it causes burns.
A short while later, you were able to lock two more guards in a bathroom while they were using the urinals. A handy, specialized door wedge did the trick—compliments of Hunnigan. As for their radios, you stuck a small signal jammer on the wall that should be enough for a few feet radius. Finally, Leon started leading the way towards the controls, gun in hand, with the distant banging on the bathroom door serving as background noise.
You’re able to view inside the desired room through a thick glass window on the metal gate. It looks empty. Good. You then use the badge on the card reader to let you both inside.
What you expected to be a regular, boring security room with a few camera feeds and old desk chairs, turned out to be sterile white walls and sleek command panels with a thousand buttons. This is all most certainly recently built.
“What even is this place?” Leon frowns, his eyes landing on an array of screens.
Walking closer, you discern random numbers, location names, and multiple countdown timers. None of it really makes sense, but on one of the monitors you find the camera feed you were hoping for of the gathering upstairs.
“There,” you point and move to try and figure out the control panel to get it to play sound. It takes a short while, but you seem to finally get a hang of how the computer system operates.
From your peripheral vision, you notice Leon watching you intently with a small, appreciative smile and he can't help but compliment you. “You know you’ve always had a knack for these things.”
“The one thing you didn't teach me,” you tease and he rolls his eyes playfully.
A moment later, and sound finally comes through so you’re able to listen in on the group of elites who appear to be watching Adams speak as he seemingly delivers a speech.
“—with staggered releases, we’ll watch public reaction slowly increase into panic, which is our goal of course. But this is first and foremost a test run, so all you lovely ladies and gents can decide the worthiness of the product.”
Through the grainy quality of the monitor, you see the tall redhead from earlier, Eddy’s brother, straighten in his seat. “Can you explain the details of the plan again for those unfamiliar.”
“With pleasure,” Adams smiles crookedly, then readjusts his red tie before continuing. “Once we have the reaction desired, we simply offer the solution to the problem: a preventative cure.”
You frown, leaning closer to listen to the man spilling the valuable secrets you have been seeking, and Leon seems just as intrigued as you.
“You see, the goal is for this to be sold as a virus rather than a targeted attack. Which is why the strikes will happen within specific areas, to simulate the spread of a disease that only we have the ‘vaccine’ against.”
“But there is no vaccine,” a woman concludes at the back of the room.
“Correct. We will administer placebo injections, but in reality we can disable the M2423—or the chips—remotely… As long as we hit focal areas, like our beloved capital, the threat will be taken seriously enough that a cure for this new, deadly and contagious 'disease’ will be the number one sought after solution.”
There’s a silence in the room that matches yours and Leon’s. You can feel your heart beating in your temples from adrenaline at hearing the terrible plans these deranged people have for the night.
Edd Chastain is the one who speaks next after blowing out cigar smoke—seemingly a family favorite. “How did you get these things inside of them again?”
“We had different hospital locations tamper with common vaccines and shots—flu, MMR, hepatitis, vitamin K etc.”
The last mention has you freezing in place, your heart lurching in your chest and prompting Leon to look at you warily.
“What is it?” He steps closer, his frown deepening.
“Vitamin K… That’s given to newborns,” you whisper in shock. “I-I remember Claire explaining this to me when Gabby was born. They’re—fuck, they're putting brain exploding chips inside fucking newborns…”
Before the agent by your side can process the stomach churning news, Chastain speaks again in an arrogant tone.
“This sounds all fine and dandy until they can trace the injections back to you. Then what?”
Adams purses his lips, but he smiles nonetheless. “No worries, my team and I have started this process many months ago thanks to our generous early benefactors such as you, Mr. Chastain... It would be virtually impossible to conclude that a vaccine someone had last spring is the reason for their sudden demise now.”
“How many targets tonight?” the woman in the back asks.
“We have eight transmitters ready to release the sound frequencies that will trigger the bursts, and two targets for each. Which means sixteen total.”
“Sixteen people is not a lot. I don't see how this will prompt the government to want to rapidly invest in a cure,” Edd waves a dismissive hand, making his golden watch catch in the dimmed light.
You see Leon visibly twitch at the nonchalance exhibited by the participants of this unhinged conversation, and he seems to have officially reached his limit.
“Alright, fuck these wastes of oxygen,” he grits out, tightening his hold on the borrowed gun. “I’m running upstairs to let HQ know about this bullshit, and then I’ll come back to deal with these fuckers myself.”
“Count me in,” you mutter, and the both of you are about to turn on your heels when Marcus Adams’ voice comes through again.
“Well, Mr. Chastain, you’ll be happy to know I have a target that is sure to cause a stir… You see, the day my beloved Caitriona sacrificed herself for this project—after some government lackeys interfered—we were able to momentarily get a hold of one of them by subduing him…” he pauses, letting suspense fill the room before continuing. “If my deductions are correct, we have infected a DSO worker—meaning someone who operates directly under the president. Now if that doesn't get their attention, then I don't know what will.”
Time completely halts around you when you realize the agent they 'momentarily got a hold of’ is none other than the one standing beside you, his blue eyes wide in shock as he comes to the same conclusion.
fr tho why is everything smut😭😭 i wanna read angst that would ruin me, make me sick to my stomach and cry like there's no tomorrow bro i want a fanfic that is so devastating that i won't be able to function for the next few months
