៚ synopsis — A new assignment. A dangerous partner. A threat that should’ve stayed buried. At the DSO, you’re paired with Leon S. Kennedy to investigate the resurgence of Umbrella’s legacy. Trust is fragile, the stakes are deadly, and every mission pushes you closer together. In a world where survival is never guaranteed, one thing becomes clear—some connections are just as dangerous as the enemies you face.
៚ tags — leon kennedy x fem!reader, agent!reader, slowburn! au
៚ warnings (for this chapter) — re9 spoilers! i literally rewatched the first part of Leon's mission to incorporate the reader into the scene so if you don't want spoilers this ain't the place for u dada... lots of action heheheh
៚ wc — 2,733
៚ authors note — this chapter was a pain in the ass to write I genuinely had to study to write this shit ;-; also unfortunately i got carried away with the action in this chapter so the dynamic between Leon and the reader isn't explored a lot I'm sorry ;( i'll do better in the next chapter
៚ songs for this chapter — Renegades of Funk by Rage Against The Machine + Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses
part two of this , masterlist
more under the cut
Chapter Two ࿐ Cracks Beneath the Surface
You had finally found your footing after your first week at the DSO, but any sense of comfort was short-lived. The mission with Leon was fast approaching, and the uncertainty surrounding the virus weighed heavily on everyone. No one knew when it would be unleashed—only that time was slipping away.
You stepped into the training room, immediately spotting Leon and Sherry already waiting for you.
So this was it.
Your first real training session with Leon.
A flicker of nerves tightened in your chest—stronger than you cared to admit.
“Hey, Y/N!” Sherry called, her voice bright against the low hum of the training room.
You gave her a quick smile in return, finishing the last wrap of tape around your knuckles, tightening it with a practiced pull.
“You ready?” Leon asked, already stepping forward.
You exhaled, rolling your shoulders loose. “Yeah. Let’s just get it over with.”
The two of you moved onto the mats, circling into position. The air shifted—lighter moments gone, replaced with something sharper, focused.
You cracked a small grin. “Wanna shadowbox?”
Leon didn’t even blink. “Cut the shit.”
He moved fast—faster than you expected.
A punch snapped toward you out of nowhere. You barely had time to react, your forearm coming up to block as the impact jolted through your arm. You staggered half a step back, boots scraping against the mat.
“Not bad,” you muttered, resetting your stance.
Leon didn’t give you time to recover. He followed up immediately—a second strike, then a feint. You ducked the first, caught the second on your palm, twisting his wrist just enough to break his momentum. You countered with a quick jab toward his ribs.
He pivoted, taking the hit on his side with a grunt, then drove forward, trying to close the distance. You sidestepped, grabbing his arm and attempting to flip him, but he braced, planting his weight and yanking you off balance instead.
You hit the mat hard, rolling just in time to avoid his downward strike. Your leg swept out, aiming for his ankles. He jumped it, but it forced him back—just enough space for you to push yourself up.
Breathing heavier now, you wiped a strand of hair from your face. “You always this welcoming?”
Leon smirked faintly, circling again. “You’ll need worse than this where we’re going.”
You lunged first this time—
faster, sharper. A combination strike: left, right, then a spin aimed at his shoulder. He blocked high, but you dropped low at the last second, driving into him. The two of you crashed together, grappling for control, boots sliding against the mat.
For a moment, it was just strength and leverage—push, pull, counter.
Then he twisted, nearly pinning you—but you slipped free at the last second, rolling away and springing back to your feet.
Across the room, Sherry watched with wide eyes, clearly impressed.
You steadied your breathing, a small grin breaking through despite yourself.
“You’re clumsy,” he remarked, almost casually.
The words hit harder than his punches.
You scoffed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Funny. You talk a lot for someone who hasn’t put me down yet.”
Leon didn’t respond—he just moved.
He closed the distance in a blink, forcing you back with a rapid series of strikes. Left, right, then a sharp elbow you barely managed to deflect. The impact rattled through your guard, your footing slipping for half a second.
That was all he needed.
He hooked your arm, twisting—trying to drag you off balance—but you reacted fast, dropping your weight and driving your shoulder into his chest. The two of you collided, a solid thud echoing through the room.
You broke away first, swinging low. He blocked, but you followed with a quick upward strike that grazed his jaw. Not clean—but enough to get his attention.
“Clumsy, huh?” you shot back, breath coming quicker now.
Leon smirked, flexing his jaw slightly. “Lucky hit.”
He came at you harder this time—no hesitation. A feint high, then a brutal sweep aimed at your legs. You jumped back, but not clean enough—his foot clipped you, sending you stumbling.
You caught yourself on one hand, rolling as he lunged in to capitalize. His fist slammed into the mat where your head had been a split second earlier.
You twisted from the ground, your leg snapping out and catching him behind the knee. He staggered—just enough.
You surged up, grabbing his shirt and driving a knee toward his midsection. He caught it mid-motion, grip like iron, and shoved you back hard.
You skidded across the mat, boots squealing as you forced yourself to stop.
For a second, both of you just stood there—breathing heavier now, eyes locked.
Then you rushed him again.
Your punches came quicker, sharper—less hesitation. He blocked most of them, but not all. One clipped his shoulder, another glanced off his ribs. He countered just as hard, forcing you to guard high before slamming a strike into your side.
Pain flared—but you didn’t stop.
You stepped in instead, closing the gap and locking onto him, the two of you grappling again. His strength pushed against yours, trying to overpower, but you shifted your weight, slipping to the side and nearly dragging him down with you.
He twisted out at the last second, but not before losing his footing for just a moment.
You took the opportunity.
You shoved him back, creating space, chest rising and falling as adrenaline surged through you.
A slow grin crept onto your face despite the ache in your body.
“Still think I’m clumsy?”
Leon straightened, rolling his shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping forward again. “Way less since I’ve pointed it out, though”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I’m going easy on you.”
Something in your expression hardened instantly.
“Don’t.”
The word came out sharper than you expected.
For a split second, the room went quiet—just your breathing, his, the faint shift of feet on the mat.
Leon’s smirk faded—just a little.
“Careful what you ask for.”
You didn’t answer. You moved.
You closed the distance fast, faster than before—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Your fist snapped toward his face, then another, then a third. He blocked, but this time, you kept pushing, forcing him to actually give ground.
Not much. But enough.
He adjusted, his movements sharpening instantly—less restrained now. His counter came harder, faster. A strike slipped past your guard, catching your shoulder and spinning you slightly off balance.
You recovered, barely, ducking under his next hit and driving forward, slamming into him again.
This time, he didn’t budge.
His arm hooked around yours, twisting tighter than before. You felt it—real pressure now, real force.
You gritted your teeth and turned with it, using the motion to slip free before he could lock it in fully.
“Better,” he muttered.
You didn’t stop.
You went low, sweeping again—he stepped over it, but you followed through, rising into him with a sharp blow of your shoulder that actually knocked him back a step.
There it was, proof.
You pressed forward immediately, trying to capitalize—but this time, Leon met you head-on.
No more holding back.
He caught your next strike clean, pivoted, and used your momentum to throw you down harder than before. The mat slammed into your back, air rushing out of your lungs.
He was on you instantly, trying to pin you.
You fought it—twisting, pushing, refusing to stay down. Your leg hooked around his, shifting your weight just enough to break his balance for a split second.
Not enough to win, but enough to breathe.
Enough to keep going.
You shoved against him, forcing space between you, scrambling back to your feet again.
Your chest heaved now, sweat clinging to your skin, muscles burning.
Leon stood across from you, just as steady—but his focus had changed.
Sharper. More serious.
No smirk this time.
You lifted your chin slightly, a stubborn glint in your eyes.
“Again.”
-
You had trained for hours, and now that the adrenaline was fading, your body was starting to remember its limits.
Every muscle ached.
You tipped your head back, chugging an entire water bottle without stopping before dropping it beside you. A deep sigh left your chest as you sank onto the bench, limbs heavy, the tension finally bleeding out of you.
For a moment, you just sat there—breathing, cooling down, letting the quiet settle in.
Across the room, Leon stood with Sherry, their voices low. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but something about the way they leaned in—serious and controlled—felt different from before.
Then you saw it.
Leon pulled something from his pocket, something small and compact. He pressed it against his neck without hesitation.
A sharp click.
Your brows knit together.
It looked like an EpiPen.
You straightened slightly, curiosity cutting through your exhaustion. “You allergic to me or somethin’, Kennedy?” you called, a half-smirk tugging at your lips.
The joke landed flat.
Both of them looked at you.
But Leon—
There was no smirk this time. No easy comeback. Just a steady, unreadable expression.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, voice flat.
The shift was immediate. Noticeable. Your smile faltered, just a little.
“…Right.”
You leaned back again, grabbing your towel and dragging it across your face, wiping away the sweat. The fabric didn’t do much to shake the feeling that had just settled in your chest.
What was that about?
Your gaze flicked back toward them for a second—but they’d already moved on, conversation quieter now, more guarded.
You exhaled slowly, forcing your shoulders to relax.
Not your business.
Still… something about it didn’t sit right.
You dropped the towel into your lap, staring ahead as the room filled with nothing but the low hum of fluorescent lights and the lingering echo of everything that wasn’t being said.
Leon coughs—a rough, telling sound—and for a moment, you can’t help but realize he’s truly starting to show his age.
The day of the mission had finally arrived.
Raccoon City.
You park at a gas station on the edge of town. Rusted pumps lean at odd angles, windows are spider-webbed with cracks, and the air smells of smoke and decay. You step out after Leon, hands buried deep in the pockets of your trench coat, scanning the broken streets.
“Looks like hell,” you say, your voice barely rising above the whisper of the wind through shattered signs.
“This is hell,” he answers, already moving forward, his eyes scanning every shadow.
There’s a hardness in his movements now, a silent weight he carries. You can tell he’s bracing himself—not just for what lies ahead, but for memories that refuse to stay buried. Every step into this ruined city is a reminder: this was never home, only ground that was lost long ago.
The streets stretch before you like a graveyard, and with each step, the past seems to stir, whispering warnings in the empty air.
You follow close behind him.
After a few moments of exploring the wrecked streets, you and Leon stop in front of an abandoned hotel. Its windows are shattered, the paint peeling, the air thick with decay.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you warn, a shiver crawling down your spine.
“Glad I’m not the only one,” Leon replies, stepping forward. Without hesitation, he pushes open the heavy front doors and disappears inside.
You follow, your footsteps echoing through the lobby. Dust hangs in the air, and the faint creak of the floorboards seems unnervingly loud. Eventually, you reach a revolving door at the back. Leon reaches for it… and freezes.
It’s jammed.
“Every fuckin’ time” he mutters under his breath. With a grunt and a burst of frustration, he shoves it hard, and the door finally gives way.
You can’t help but feel a small thrill at his frustration, though you quickly push it aside. Focus. You need to focus.
You step through the doorway, moving directly behind him. Together, you take in the scene—until a sound above stops you both cold. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate.
Something isn’t right.
You exchange a glance, then tilt your heads upward.
A giant spider drops from the ceiling, its mandibles clicking and a high-pitched screech echoing through the lobby.
“Holy shit,” you both blurt at the same time.
The spider lands with a heavy thud, shaking the cracked floorboards beneath you. Its black eyes gleam, reflecting the flickering lights of the abandoned lobby, and its mandibles snap with a chilling click. You instinctively take a step back—but Leon grabs your arm.
“Stay close,” he orders, drawing his pistol. Then, with a flash of grim determination, he swings a hatchet from his belt. “Time to get up close.”
The spider hisses and lunges. You fire a shot at its legs to slow it down, while Leon steps forward, hatchet raised high. He swings in a wide arc, slamming into the spider’s armored leg. Sparks fly as steel bites into the exoskeleton, forcing the creature to stumble backward.
Suddenly, a section of the floor beneath you creaks violently. Before either of you can react, the wood gives way with a loud crack, and you and Leon tumble through into a lower level. Dust and splintered wood fill the air as you land hard, gasping.
“Leon! You okay?” you shout, rushing to him.
“I’m fine. Let’s finish this!” he replies, wincing but immediately rising, hatchet in hand.
The spider hisses from above, its massive legs scraping the ruined floorboards as it lunges at you. Leon swings the hatchet again, slamming it into the glowing weak spot on its back. Sparks shower the area as the creature screeches and recoils.
“Keep it busy!” you yell, throwing a Molotov cocktail at a support beam nearby. Flames roar to life, forcing the spider back.
Leon dodges a swipe of its massive leg, then drives the hatchet down hard into its back again. You roll behind a toppled crate, firing at its legs. “Barrels!” Leon shouts. Together, you target the stacked explosives nearby.
The resulting explosion shakes the ground, sending debris flying. The spider screeches and stumbles, one leg twisted and smoking.
“Almost there!” Leon shouts, gripping the hatchet tightly. He lunges forward, twisting the blade into the spider’s glowing weak spot. The creature shrieks one final time and collapses into a heap of broken limbs and twitching mandibles.
You both slump to the floor, gasping for breath. Dust, smoke, and splinters hang in the air, and the silence afterward is deafening.
"Missed that Raccoon City hospitality—"
You were now in an underground railroad.
Leon sheathes his hatchet, giving you a brief nod.
“That… worked out better than expected,” he says, still catching his breath.
You force a shaky laugh. “Yeah… not bad.”
The hotel is gone behind you, reduced to rubble, but the streets of Raccoon City remain alive with menace. You know the nightmare is far from over.
Despite the chaos around you, you realize you and Leon have been holding eye contact longer than either of you intended. He finally looks away, clearing his throat—and a sharp cough follows.
Your instincts scream that something is off.
“You alright, Leon?” you ask, concern edging your voice.
He quickly nods, forcing a tight smile.
“Yeah… I’m fine. Just… smoke.”
It’s a terrible lie, and you can see it in the way his eyes dart and the slight tension in his jaw. You consider pressing, but there’s no time. The city is falling apart around you.
Taking a deep breath, you shake off the worry for now and refocus. “Alright,” you say, gripping your weapon tighter.
“Let’s keep moving.”
⸻⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰⸻
a/n:
sorry 4 all the action in this chapter and lack of dynamic i was practicing writing action scenes because I'm not very good at it i'm sry ;(
៚ synopsis — A new assignment. A dangerous partner. A threat that should’ve stayed buried. At the DSO, you’re paired with Leon S. Kennedy to investigate the resurgence of Umbrella’s legacy. Trust is fragile, the stakes are deadly, and every mission pushes you closer together. In a world where survival is never guaranteed, one thing becomes clear—some connections are just as dangerous as the enemies you face.
៚ tags — leon kennedy x fem!reader, agent!reader, slowburn! au
៚ warnings (for this chapter) — re9 spoilers! leon is a smartass
៚ wc — 2,942
៚ authors note — i loved re9 sm i've become inspired. dilf leon ftw! >_< re9 spoilers do not pass the cut if you care about spoilers ૮ ⸝⸝ -᷅ ·̭ -᷄ ྀིა
៚ song for this chapter — Airbag by Radiohead
៚ masterlist
more under the cut
Chapter One ࿐ Earn My Trust
The last trace of winter follows you through the doors before it’s shut out completely. Warm air wraps around you the moment you step inside, controlled and artificial. You let out a slow breath, tension easing from your shoulders. It’s a relief, but not a comfort.
Places like this never really were.
You can only hope the agents inside are warmer than the air they keep circulating.
The hallway stretches ahead, spotless and too quiet. Your footsteps echo faintly against the polished floor as you make your way to the elevator. A blonde woman with short hair stands waiting in front of it. She looks composed, almost gentle, but there’s something precise in the way she carries herself.
“Miss L/N,” she says, offering her hand. “Special Agent Sherry Birkin.”
You shake it, her grip firm and practiced. “Please, call me Y/N.”
She nods once and turns to press the elevator button.
“Do you have the files I requested?”
“Yeah.” You open your bag, flipping through neatly organized folders until you find the yellow one. You pull it free and hand it to her. “Here you go.”
She takes it without a word.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss.
You glance at Sherry. She meets your eyes for a second, then gives a subtle nod toward the interior.
You step in first.
The doors close behind you, sealing the two of you inside. A low hum fills the space as the elevator begins to move.
“So,” she says, leaning back slightly against the wall, “are you nervous?”
Small talk. Of course.
You glance at her, expression steady. “No matter how much I’ve been through, I can’t seem to shake that first-day feeling.”
Sherry lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I get that.” She pauses, then adds, “But you’ll be fine. You’ve got a solid reputation. No one’s going to give you a hard time.”
“Hope not.”
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal a wide, open office. Sherry steps out first. “Follow me.”
She moves with purpose, weaving through the space. A few people glance up, but most stay locked into their work, deliberately uninterested.
Sherry pushes open a door and steps into a private office. You follow close behind.
“Leon, she’s here.”
He looks up from the file in his hands, his gaze settling on you.
You keep your composure despite the brief jolt of realizing just how good-looking he is in person. “Nice to finally meet you, Leon.”
He removes his glasses and stands.
“Likewise.”
You half-expect a handshake, but he simply walks past you instead—no formalities.
Of course not.
Sherry steps in before the silence stretches. “Alright, here’s her file. You can read it while I show her around.”
Leon doesn’t even glance at it. “I’ll show her around. We have a few things to discuss.”
Your stomach drops. First day, and already a “discussion.” Though, if you’re honest, you have a pretty good idea what it’s about.
Sherry nods and slips out, the door clicking shut behind her.
When you turn back, Leon is already watching you.
“So… B.S.A.A., huh?”
There it is.
You swallow. “Yeah. I used to be an agent.”
He picks up the same file that he was just reading.
“I’ve already read your file.”
Of course he has. Thorough, just like the stories say.
“You worked with Chris Redfield,” he continues, tapping the folder lightly. His gaze sharpens. “But what I want to know is this—what reasons do you have to be at the DSO?”
You could hear the hesitation in his voice—the kind that comes from knowing the B.S.A.A. had become corrupt and had been using bio-organic weapons. He didn’t trust you. Not yet.
Before you could respond, he turned and started toward the door. “Walk with me.”
You fell into step behind him.
“Well, for starters,” you said, folding your arms, “you might want to work on those trust issues.” A beat. “And secondly, I left the B.S.A.A. because Chris and I discovered they’ve been using bio-organic weapons. I wasn’t about to stop saving people just because the organization I worked for decided to abandon its morals.” You exhaled softly. “But I didn’t want to go rogue like Chris, either.”
He let out a low hum and pushed open the door to an office. “This is yours,” he said. “I’m just down the hall. If you need anything, I’ll be around.”
“Got it.” You stepped inside, setting your things on the desk. “Thanks.”
Leon turned to leave, then paused in the doorway.
“And about my trust issues…”
You stiffened, regretting saying any thing at all.
He looked back at you, meeting your eyes—steady, unreadable. It made your pulse tick just a little faster.
“When you get to be my age,” he said, “you learn trust isn’t something you hand out. People earn it.”
His hand closed around the doorknob.
"Earn mine."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room steeped in silence. You stared at it for a moment, then muttered under your breath,
“Nonchalant ass motherfucker.”
You’d spent the entire day buried in paperwork, your hands aching from hours of writing and typing. The dull throb in your fingers had long since settled in, but you ignored it, reaching for your third cup of coffee instead. The bitter warmth barely cut through the exhaustion, but it was enough to keep you going—barely.
You took another sip, eyes scanning the last few pages, when a voice broke the silence.
"Killin' that coffee, huh?"
You jolted, nearly spilling it. “Jesus—” You exhaled sharply, then glanced up. “I’ve killed worse things.”
Leon stood in the doorway, shoulder resting against the frame, watching you with that usual unreadable expression.
“It’s 10:45,” he said flatly.
You frowned. “Okay…?”
“It’s late.”
You leaned back slightly, dragging the word out. “Sooo…?”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—quick, but unmistakable. “So, go home.”
He pushed off the doorway and turned, already heading down the hall.
You rolled your eyes. “No thanks. I don’t have a curfew.”
He paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. “You look like shit. You should get some sleep.”
Then he kept walking.
You scoffed, shaking your head. “Rude.”
His voice echoed faintly from down the hall. “I heard that.”
Despite yourself, a small smile crept onto your face as you stared back down at the paperwork.
Yeah… this was going to be interesting.
You stepped into the conference room, already buzzing with quiet chatter as your coworkers filled the seats. Hunnigan had called everyone in—never a great sign, and definitely not for something small.
Your eyes swept the room, searching for a familiar face. You were hoping Sherry would be there—someone easy to sit beside, someone who made things feel a little less… tense. You didn’t know her that well, but there was something about her presence that settled your nerves.
But she wasn’t there. Not yet.
Your gaze kept moving, only to stop when it met Leon’s. He was already looking at you, expression unreadable as ever—like he’d been watching longer than you’d like to admit.
You hesitated for half a second, then made your decision.
The seat beside him was empty.
You walked over and slipped into it, setting your things down and straightening slightly. “Good morning,” you said, keeping your tone casual as you settled in.
“Mornin’”
“Know what this is about?” you asked.
“Nah.”
You hummed, giving a small nod—just as a familiar voice cut in.
“Hey, guys.”
You turned, smiling as she took the seat beside you. Leon greeted her too, his tone casual but attentive.
The room gradually quieted as the last few agents filtered in and took their seats. A moment later, Hunnigan entered. Without wasting time, she shut off the lights. The faint glow of the large screen at the front of the conference room flickered to life, casting the room in cool blue light.
She stepped beside it, a remote in hand.
“I called you all here because we’ve acquired new findings.”
A few clicks—and an image filled the screen.
A glass tube. Inside, a vivid, almost unnaturally bright yellow liquid.
“There’s been a newly identified virus located in Raccoon City. It’s been designated Elpis.”
At that, Leon and Sherry exchanged a look—brief, but loaded with something you couldn’t quite read. You frowned slightly, curiosity stirring, but chose to stay focused.
“It hasn’t been released yet,” Hunnigan continued. “Our objective is to locate and destroy it before that changes.”
Another click. A map of Raccoon City appeared—ruined, scarred, but unmistakable.
“I won’t waste time,” she said, her tone sharpening. “Leon, you know this place better than anyone. I understand what I’m asking, but we need you on this operation.”
Leon didn’t hesitate. “Understood.”
“But you won’t be going alone.” Her gaze shifted to you. “Miss L/N… this is your opportunity to prove your loyalty to the DSO.”
For a split second, you froze. Leon and Sherry both looked at you. The weight of their attention pressed in—but just as quickly, you steadied yourself and gave a firm nod.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll work together to investigate the ruins of Raccoon City. Intelligence suggests a hidden facility somewhere within the city limits. That’s where you’ll find the virus.”
She stepped forward, handing each of you a file.
“This contains everything we have so far. Study it carefully—there’s no time to waste. You’ll review it together en route.”
Leon stood, smooth and immediate. You followed right after.
“Understood,” he said.
You both exited the conference room, the door shutting behind you—cutting off Hunnigan mid-sentence.
“Now, as for the rest of you—”
Silence.
Out in the hall, Leon flipped his file closed with a quiet sigh.
“I’m gonna need coffee,” he muttered. “Or maybe something stronger if we’re getting through all this.”
You shot him a look. “Coffee sounds like the better option. It’s nine in the morning.”
Leon walked past you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“It’s five p.m. somewhere.”
You and Leon had agreed on coffee—your insistence that it was far too early for liquor still lingering in the air between you.
“Nice car, Kennedy.” The words come out half observation, half compliment.
“Thanks.” He pulls the door open for you with an easy sort of confidence.
You slide into the passenger seat. The interior is spotless, the faint scent of leather and something new filling your lungs. “Smells new,” you note, glancing around.
Leon circles to the driver’s side and drops into his seat. “Well, Agent L/N,” he says, starting the engine, voice edged with that familiar dry humor, “that’s an astute observation—because it is.”
“Smart-ass,” you mutter under your breath.
You don’t look at him, but you don’t need to. You can practically feel the smirk tugging at his mouth—the one he always wears when he gets under your skin.
The car glides onto the road. Then accelerates. Fast.
Too fast.
“You know,” you add, crossing your arms as the city blurs past, “Sherry promised me no one would give me a hard time.”
Leon glances at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road—completely unbothered, one hand loose on the wheel as the speedometer climbs well past what you’re sure is legal.
“Yeah,” he says casually, “well, I didn’t promise a damn thing.”
You scoff, but there’s no real bite behind it. “Someone needs to teach you some damn manners.”
That earns you a quiet chuckle.
“Oh yeah?” he says, tilting his head just slightly, like he’s considering it. “And you volunteering for the job, Agent?”
The car surges forward again, engine humming, wind rushing past the windows.
You tighten your grip on the door just a little.
“First lesson,” you shoot back, side-eyeing him now, “slow the hell down.”
Leon smirks again—this time you actually see it.
But his foot doesn’t move.
You push the car door open a little harder than necessary, stepping out with a sharp exhale.
“Jesus, Leon—that was a real road, not a racetrack.”
“Well,” he replies, completely unbothered, “we got here in ten minutes.” He shuts his door and glances at you like he’s presenting a solid argument. “If I followed traffic laws, it would’ve taken twenty.”
You roll your eyes, already turning toward the café. “Congratulations. You cut our time in half. Want a medal?”
He just smirks and heads inside.
Leon twirls his keys lazily around his fingers as he walks, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, then slips them into the pocket of his leather jacket. You follow him in, the bell above the door giving a soft chime.
The place is nearly empty—quiet, calm. A sharp contrast to the drive.
You both claim a table, setting your binders and folders down like this is what you’re actually here for.
Work.
Leon asks what you want, and before you can argue, he’s already at the counter ordering for both of you.
Of course he is.
A few minutes later, he returns, setting your coffee down in front of you with an easy motion before taking his seat.
You’re already pulling out your wallet, flipping through your bills. “How much was it?”
Leon looks at you, confused at first.
Then it clicks.
His face goes completely blank.
“Nunya-ninety-nine.”
You pause, then look up at him flatly. “Awful joke.”
There’s the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth—he knows it landed.
“Alright,” you continue, thumbing through your cash, “let’s cut the shit and get this over with.”
Leon leans back in his chair, watching you like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all morning.
“Get what over with?” he asks, feigning innocence.
You slide a bill onto the table toward him. “The part where I pay for my coffee and you don’t make it weird.”
He doesn’t even look at the money.
Instead, his eyes flick back up to yours, something quieter slipping into his expression beneath the usual sarcasm.
“Too late,” he says simply.
Then he nudges the bill back toward you with two fingers.
“I’ve got it.”
Instead of wasting time with your stubborn ways you decide to let him pay this one time and get to work.
After hours of combing through files and refining the case plan, your focus starts to slip. Another yawn pulls at you—one too many to ignore.
Leon doesn’t miss it.
“Gettin’ tired, Agent? It’s only five p.m..” His tone is light, teasing. “Geez… and people call me old.”
You let your head fall onto the table for a second, cheek pressed against the cool surface. “You are old,” you mumble, voice slightly muffled. Then you push yourself upright with a quiet sigh. “I just need another cup of coffee. I’ll be fine.”
You stretch a little, rolling your shoulders. “Might take a walk too. Been sitting too long… and this booth’s kind of dangerously comfortable.”
Leon starts gathering his things without hesitation. “Let’s go take a walk then.”
That makes you pause. You straighten, raising an eyebrow at him. “You sure those knees can handle that?”
He exhales through his nose, already standing. “Please.”
You stand too, grabbing your things—but not letting up. “I’m just saying. All those backflips and roundhouse kicks? That’s got a shelf life.”
He doesn’t answer—just shoots you a look. Playfully annoyed, but there’s something softer tucked behind it.
You both head out of the café together, the evening air a welcome change from the hours spent inside.
Somewhere along the way, you realize something’s shifted.
This—whatever this is between you two—it’s not strictly professional anymore. It’s easier. Looser. The lines blur in small ways: the teasing, the glances, the way conversation doesn’t feel forced.
There’s something underneath it all, something you can’t quite name.
And that’s the part that sticks with you.
Before your thoughts can spiral too far, Leon cuts in, voice casual but curious.
“So,” he says, glancing over at you, “how were your first couple of days?”
You huff out a small breath, shoving your hands into your pockets.
“Besides you fucking with me,” you start, shooting him a quick look,
“…pretty good.”
There’s a beat of silence after that—comfortable, not awkward.
Then you add, quieter this time, almost like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, “Easier than I expected.”
Leon looks at you again, a little more carefully now. “Yeah?”
You nod once, eyes drifting ahead of you down the sidewalk. “Yeah. I thought it’d be…” You trail off, searching for the right word. “Worse, I guess. More rigid. More… alone.”
Another small pause.
“It’s not,” you finish.
The corner of Leon’s mouth lifts—not quite a smirk this time, something more subtle.
“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but there’s no bite in it.
You glance at him, catching that almost-smile. “Too late.”
⸻⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰⸻
a/n:
auuuuuuuugh i hope u guys enjoyed the chapter more coming soon ૮ ◜ᵕ◝ ྀིა
In case you didn't already here, 37-year-old ICU nurse Alex Pretti was executed in Minneapolis today
The National and non-MN news have unfortunately not been fully covering how awful ICE has been in MN so I wanted to share some details for anyone who is not from or familiar with the Twin Cities, as someone in the Twin Cities who is decently connected with legal observers around the area:
Prior to being publicly executed, Alex Pretti was taking part in legally observing ICE and was assisting another legal observer who had fallen trying to distance themselves from ICE.
ICE has been viciously attacking legal observers. They are pepper spraying observers mere inches away from their eyes. They are using chemical weapons and carcinogenic gases. They are intentionally trying to take phones from people recording them.
Alex Pretti was killed at East 36th St and Nicollet Ave, almost right in front of a popular donut shop. This area of Nicollet Ave is lined with local restaurants and small businesses, many of whom have been struggling while ICE conducts an occupation of the Twin Cities and in particular had lost business by participating in the general strike yesterday. Therefore, Minnesotans wanted to go out in droves this weekend to make up for the lost income yesterday. This is all to say, ICE deciding to patrol and enact violence on this area of Minneapolis was vengeful and intentional. They were looking for protestors, observers, and people who are resisting ICE.
If you would like a non-exhaustive list of how you can help Minneapolis and help resist ICE, here is a place to start. Fuck ICE. Abolish ICE.
some fluff to light up your day? your wish is my command !! (⟡ᗜ⟡)
imagine joaquin calling you after a mission ~
w.c: 566; joaquin torres x girlfriend!reader
1AM EST; New York City (Reader) 10PM PST; California (Joaquin)
You’re already in bed by the time he calls. Already having lost the expectation that you were going to get a call that night.
Until your screen lights up with his name, and your heart jumps. You weren’t sure he’d have time, let alone signal. But he does. And it’s a FaceTime.
You blink, propping yourself up on one elbow, startled but smiling as you answer. The jingled swoosh of the application opening as his face appears.
“FaceTime? No top secret clearance things in the background for me to see?” you tease, voice soft and a little raspy from staying up too long.
He laughs, that low, tired laugh that makes your chest ache a little. His hair is a mess. There’s a faint scratch on his cheek, like he tried to clean up before calling but didn’t get all the way there.
“You look so comfortable right now,” he says, eyes looking over your blanket-covered body and sleepy face. “Did I wake you up, cariño?”
"No, just laid down now," your smile falters, just a little. “Are you okay? Did the mission go well?”
He looks off to the side. Doesn’t answer right away, then: “I just really wanted to see my beautiful girl’s face tonight after everything.”
You sit up more fully now, the soft warmth in your chest turning heavier. “It went that badly?”
He breathes out through his nose, gaze finally meeting yours again through the screen. He looks worse for wear at this point, having been gone for longer than usual. Today marking the third week of a long, drawn out mission that required more patience and careful planning than he liked.
“Well… not too bad, since I’m all in one piece here, right?”
You nod slowly, biting your lip. “I hope you really beat up whoever gave you that cut on your face then, since I wasn't there to do it myself.”
He grins at that. Tired, but amused at the tone in your voice. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Nobody touches me on your watch."
His voice dips softer as he adds, “God, you look so sweet right now. I don’t care about this mission anymore, I’d trade anything to be next to you. Just to fall asleep next to you tonight.”
Your brain short circuited a little at that. The whininess of his voice tugging at your heart strings. But you can't help but respond without teasing him.
You just tilt the camera toward the other side of the bed and whisper, “There’s room.”
A bashful grin tugged at his lips at your response. That quiet kind of smile that says you’re it—you’re the part of his day he’s been holding out for. The only part that matters.
That he had left his heart across the country. The brightest part of his entire day, even now after a grueling trek through the desert and not an end in sight to taking down the group they were after.
"The prettiest thing I’ve seen in weeks,” he says gently. “You should write that down to remember it everyday.”
You feel your cheeks flush as you try to blink away how heavy your eyelids are getting.
“You shouldn't tempt me either,” he adds, smile deepening. “I can fly, you know?"
“Don’t expect me to stop you,” you say sleepily, the warmth of his voice pulling you further into sleep than any drug ever could.
