desperate! °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ reader x leon kennedy fic - part 1
˚⋆ summary: spring’s here, and your days of hopeless eternal loneliness appear to be counted as the hottest man you've ever seen moves to your suburban neighborhood!
˚⋆ tags: MDNI, slow burn, reader x leon kennedy, slight age gap (reader is 27, leon is 35), 90s romcom inspired, shy!reader, man obsessed reader, party girl reader, drunk confessions, awkward situations, suggestive topics, upcoming rough smut <3.
˚⋆ w/c: 2.5k
˚⋆ notes: totally inspired by desperate housewives! I wrote this with ID!Leon in mind, but any can older version can fit the story :) this was inspired by "cannibalism!" - slayyyter ❀ hope you guys like it hehe
Sunday, the first warm day after seemingly eternal weeks of annoying snow, frustrating rain and slashing cold winds. Clouds of dust swirled around the moving air as you stormed around your living room, armed with a brand-new pink broom and baby blue microfiber cloths. The radio blared Pop music from somewhere in the sparkling clean kitchen, and all of your furniture seemed to have been scattered around your home by a twisted magic spell.
Everyone in suburbia knew that the first day of the new warm season meant Spring Cleaning. New flowers, new beginnings, new opportunities to start over. After the catastrophic end of your last relationship back in Fall, you were starting to finally feel like yourself again, and you wanted – no, you needed – to move on and start on a clean slate. And get laid.
Well, while it’s a poetic plan, it’s also tricky to put in action. You thought about moving somewhere far away, live in a big city like New York, just like Samantha in Sex and the City, but you had promised your aunt you’d only leave her cozy suburban house on your wedding day. Something told you that day was still very, very far away in your calendar.
After graduating college, you moved to your Aunt Clara’s home. It was all for mutual convenience, as you needed to live somewhere next to your job, and she needed someone to keep her company in that beautiful two-story house, after the death of her second husband, five years ago. You didn’t pay rent, split some of the bills and live comfortably. Life seemed picture-perfect: a huge house with a bedroom suite and an office room all to yourself, a somewhat satisfying job… It needed a crack, a flaw somewhere, right?
Your love life was disgraceful. A stream of bad boyfriends, ranging from pathetically lackluster to downright psychotic freak, plus a bunch of almost-there, almost-fit first dates that never made it to a second one. It seemed like you were cursed to be taunted with the hopes of finally taking a good guy back home to Easter Sunday lunch, only for it to be crushed as soon as they talked for more than 10 minutes.
It was on domestic days like this, cleaning the whole house with your aunt, that your mind wandered to a hopeful future. You daydreamed and pretended that it was your own home, bought with the hard-earned money you and your husband saved up in your joint account; you would be deep cleaning the living room, and he’d be mowing the lawn and fixing something in the backyard (maybe his beloved Harley Davidson motorcycle?). You would yell at him when he’d try to step in the through the kitchen door to get a cold beer, with dirt on his boots threating to mess up the spotless checkered tiles. You would go fetch the beer for him in the fridge, while he stood there looking hot and manly, heat radiating from his sun-kissed skin, hair and forehead wet with perspiration, white tank top transparent with sweat and bare strong legs speckled by tiny grass blades under slutty shorts. You would hand him the ice-cold beer that you put in the freezer earlier just for him, and his huge, calloused hand would wrap around your waist, pull you in for a beer flavored kiss, and you’d throw your arms and deepen the touch, until you could feel his-
“Y/N! What is all that noise?”
You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by your aunt’s screech from the top of the stairs. The floor you swept and the furniture you wiped during your daydream session couldn’t get any cleaner. Straightening up and wiping the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand, you finally noticed the loud annoying beep beep beep coming from the street. You tossed the cloth on the polished coffee table as you looked out the open front door and windows, a gentle fresh breeze entering the house.
Coming out on the porch, you looked to your right and saw the source of the sound. A white moving truck, reverse parking in front of the neighbor’s driveway. The engine rumbled and died down as a worker (whoa… he’s kinda cute!) opened the truck’s back doors and another worker (not as cute, but look at those arms!) puts down wide ramps to help a cart move boxes. The driver (nah, too old) hops out the front cabin, holding a pen and a clipboard, and looks around, talking to someone on his phone.
The driver waddled towards the curb, wiping the sweat off his red forehead with his starched white sleeve as he ended the call. His eyes were fixed on the bend on the street ahead, and your gaze followed as a sleek black car turned the corner and drove down the narrow suburban street.
The driver waddled towards the curb and disappeared behind his large vehicle, where a black car had just pulled up. You could only see a sliver of the front bumper through the windshield of the moving truck. The engine turned off, and the familiar silenced returned to suburbia; wind rustling through leaves and birds chirping in the late morning sun. You registered the sound of a car door closing and male voices conversing. The workers had stopped unloading the truck to greet the mysterious man that walked towards the house, his steps heavy in the fresh green grass.
The steps and voices got closer, and as soon as you had the thought to back away to hide your curiosity, the mysterious man finally appeared in front of you.
The hottest man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon stood there, 20 feet away from you. Light soft hair falling on his face, beautifully sculpted side profile, tall, broad-shouldered, lean built. His light blue linen shirt had two buttons opened and sleeves rolled up to counter the heat radiating from the concrete pavement under his leather boots. Holy shit.
He hadn’t seen you yet – his attention was focused on talking to the driver and giving instructions to the workers around him. He walked up to the neighbor’s porch as his hand fished out a set of keys from the back pocket of his jeans. His arms were strong and muscular, and there was no ring to be seen. Single?!
The man (Greek god, absolute hunk, Playgirl’s Best, Adonis incarnated) opened the front door swiftly and left it open for the workers moving the boxes. It was then that he finally noticed you, and you instantly felt disheveled and underdressed.
His eyes were blue like the very sky you were under, and his face surely matched the rest of his beauty. You felt a scorching blush crawl up from your neck to your cheeks as his (plush, delicious) lips curved in a small awkward smile, a hand lifting greeting you. You shyly lifted yours with a gingerly smile, and you swore he could hear the way your poor heart fluttered in your chest.
“Mr. Kennedy! Step here for a minute, please.” Someone called from the inside of the house, and he gave you a slight nod before turning on his feet and disappearing through the door.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart beating quickly. Could it be love at first sight? Well, there was no other way to fall in love with a man like that. You headed back inside as you heard your aunt coming down the stairs, slippers muffling her footsteps on the hardwood floor.
“Help me, dear.” She held a large basket full of used bed linens and towels. You took the basket from her hands and followed her to the kitchen, where the tiny radio had stopped playing. She sighed and pressed random buttons, but it didn’t give any sign of life. “That’s why I don’t trust Susan. She must’ve given me her old batteries, that old hen”. Aunt Clara grabbed two cups from the cupboards and filled them with ice cold lemonade from the fridge. You threw yourself on the kitchen chair, finally feeling your tired body relax.
“So that’s the new neighbor, hm?” Her face lighted up with a raised brow and a playful smile as she sipped on the sweet lemonade. Your cheeks tinted with a slight blush.
“Yeah… And what a neighbor!” Both of you giggled. You two had become as close as best friends in the past three years as housemates. She knew about your dating struggles.
“Oh Lord… Has she finally found her deliverance?” She clasped her hands in prayer, looking up dramatically, following with a laugh.
“Don’t say it like that!” You playfully swatted her hand. “I don’t know this man. He could be married… Widowed… Divorced, I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re alive and single.” She got up and placed the cups in the white sink. “How about you wrap up cleaning while I bake something for your dearest neighbor?”
“I am not going to his house today. He saw me looking like a sweaty mess! Plus, he probably doesn’t even have a table to put a cake on yet.” You got up from your seat, sweaty thighs sticking to the wood, dreading putting the furniture back in their places.
“Y/N, it’s just a welcome treat. If you don’t do it, some other sassy girl will beat you to it. And you can always blame your old aunt forcing you to be the good Samaritan.” She picked up the laundry basket from the table and stormed to the laundry room, leaving you to ponder your choices.
The setting sun painted a delicate watercolor in the Spring sky. Blue, orange, pink and lilac hues were strewn across the sky, and your cozy house smelled clean and divine under the stretching sunset shadows. A soft lavender scent wafted from the rooms, the wood polisher shone on the furniture and Pine-Sol reminded you of the bathrooms back in your childhood home, while the buttery fragrance of freshly baked goods warmed the house from within. Clean linens languidly swayed in the wind, spread on the clothes line in the backyard, the scent of fabric softener coming through your bedroom window every now and then.
You sat in your small vanity, applying moisturizer on your face after a cold, refreshing shower. It would be a lie to deny you were nervous like a schoolgirl. You had spent the rest of the day with your head in the clouds, thinking of what to say to him, what perfume to use, what to wear. Needed to be pretty, but now showy, but still a bit sexy. Maybe he’d fancy something pink? Or maybe something a bit cooler? What kind of girl did he like? Would he think you’re too young for him? Or – worse! – would he think he’s too old for you?
All these thoughts spun in your head as you applied scented lotion on your skin. You picked a simple yellow summer dress and thin leather sandals – enough to look pretty and enhance your possessions, but effortless enough to seem natural and easygoing. You tapped a bit of concealer under your eyes and applied lipgloss on your pouted lips. With your floral perfume discreetly applied to your neck, you left your room and followed the wonderful scent of freshly baked bread.
“Clara, the whole house smells like a bakery!” The woman was in the kitchen, carefully arranging two round loaves of bread on a red gingham cloth napkin inside a wicker basket. It surely looked like Little Red Hiding Hood’s.
“Aw, you look gorgeous, honey. He’ll surely like what he sees.” You could only hope so.
“Well… If my looks are enough, do you think he’ll mind if we keep the bread?” You took a bite of a cut slice of your aunt’s warm bread.
“Don’t be silly! There’s more is in the oven. Now hurry up and go before it gets cold.” She finished adjusting the basket and shooed you out of the kitchen.
You inhaled deeply and left with the small basket in your hands, rehearsing your dialogue options. None of them seemed to be satisfactory or any less awkward, but you moved on anyway.
You fixed your hair behind your ear and adjusted the basket sliding in your sweaty hands. A faint movement could be heard from behind the door, and you were already feeling sweat collecting on the nape of your neck, under your loose hair. Footsteps got louder and paused near the door, your breath hitching as you figured he was looking through the peephole.
The door opened, revealing the man to you. He looked impossibly better up closely, and you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, dark circles under his baby blue eyes and the plushness of his lips. His slightly damp hair appeared darker, and he smelled of soap and men’s deodorant. A navy blue t-shirt and black sweatpants did little to hide his toned muscular body. The vision was totally domestic. You could get used to this version of him.
“Hi! I’m Y/N, and I’m your neighbor. I saw you moving in today. My aunt and I wanted to welcome you to our neighborhood.” Your voice came out stable, although a bit breathier than you wanted.
“Hello, Y/N. You were the one supervising my move earlier today, weren’t you?” His hand rested on his hip as the other held the door open. Your face instantly got hot with embarrassment, sweaty hands clutching the basket tighter.
“Heh… I-I was… J-Just making sure everything went smoothly, you know how it is.” He let out a genuine chuckle at your joke and leaned on the door frame.
“I’m Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you.” His eyes finally landed on the basket, with a lift on his eyebrows. “Are these for me?”
“Y-Yeah, my aunt Clara made them for you. It’s homemade. Fresh out of the oven.” You extended your hands and gave him the basket, feeling your fingers quickly brush over his.
“I could smell it from my backyard. If you hadn’t come, I’d probably go there myself to ask for a bite.”
“You can come over any time! F-For the bread, I m-mean. Clara bakes every week.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Y/N.” He smirked at your innuendo and glanced over his shoulder as his cell phone started ringing loudly somewhere in the house.
“I’m gonna go now. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kennedy.” You gingerly waved goodbye to him and slowly headed towards the steps on his porch.
pixelskylines
amandla
