It Won't Write Itself

Multi-fandom. Too many to list. I'm a hot mess. Send help. MDNI / 26 years old / married / married to fictional men, too, tho

[riddikulus-writings]

Heyo! Nice to meet you!

Come, step into my lair 😈

I'm have turned 26. I'm a whole ass lady who had a whole ass baby recently. I have an entire husband whom I love dearly, but that doesn't stop me from fawning over hot fictional men. Mainly in books, sometimes movies and tv shows [tho nothing new, they're always older shows and movies], however the occasional video game dude grabs my attention

I write very sparingly nowadays, as I haven't got anyone to bounce ideas off to keep my imagination working. Good ol high school days was good for that 😕

I have three dogs, 4 cats, most of a horse, fish, rats and a butt ton of goats. Starting this week [end of April] I work only part time so hopefully I'll have more free time to get back into my writing

Most of the time, I'm writing xOC fics. It's what I used to be good at. HOWEVER, very recently I began attempting my first xReader fic and I don't think it's going terribly. You can judge that for me here if you want

I'm in a lot of different fandoms and if you name one I can tell you yeigh or neigh on it. I don't bite unless you ask me to, come wander into this lonely mf's ask box 😅

Call me Riddik. Call me YaYa. Call me Moose. Those are some of my nicknames. Bust into my ask box calling me whatever tf you want and I'll reply as necessary

I did recently start writing smut. Have yet to figure out the pwp type thing cuz every time I try it, it turns into a series of some sort. Minors gtfo please ✌️

Riddik's Masterlist

Stalk my AO3 here. Some things are cross-posted. Not a whole lot on AO3 either right now, tho 😅

Cal Kestis;

Born to Run

Rick Flag;

Distracted

Leon Kennedy;

Show Me Where It Hurts {in progress. Please hold.}

[thememedaddy]

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Fuck it we ball pt. II cuz this has barely been proofread and definitely didn't have a beta editor [unless you count my new beta fish I got yesterday]

Warnings; dub-con, right off the bat, here guys. Ozzy is drugged as hell but semi-lucid. shower sex -- Leon gets ambushed. light choking. Sub!Leon if you squint. PiV sex, unprotected [obviously] but like don't do that in real life or you'll get a baby. I know from experience. Creampie, multi-orgasm [creampies may feel nice but my guy's don't do that]

I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed anything

Word count; 2.1k

pt. XXXII

Leon clicked the door shut behind him.

It would be stupid not to.

The room was mostly untouched from use; beds made, carpet crisp. It was dark. Quiet, save for the sound of the shower. The bathroom door was cracked, steam rolling out with the sliver of yellow light. Leon stopped, listening for any concerning noises but all he heard was the water.

He shirked off his rifle and laid it on the bed. Next was his pistol, set neatly beside it before he unclasped his dual holster strap and slung it over the foot of the bed. Leon noticed, in the dim lighting, the cleaver you’d stolen from the catering table tossed in the middle of the comforter. Beside it was one of your shoes and a littering of your jewelry – earrings, comms, bracelets.

He toed off his boots, setting them on the tile flooring next to the jacuzzi in the corner. He pulled off his wet socks and shoved them in his boots before following the trail of your clothing to the bathroom. 

Your other shoe.

Your overwrap, crumpled in a ball next to the microwave. Oozing off the countertop, looking like a white ferret trying to make an escape.

All over the carpet were the pins from your hair, too, dropped and scattered. Slowly, he pushed open the door, worried at what he might find pulling at his chest, “Ozzy, you always this trusting about leaving keycards lay around?”

The bathroom was neat. Tidy. Bloodless. The sounds of running water louder now that the door was wide open. Your dress was in a crumpled heap on the countertop beside the sink, a puddle of green amongst the otherwise mute colouring of the room.

Your answer was breathy, “Figured you were the only one in the area lucid enough to follow my directions.”

“Smart cookie,” he nodded, stepping further into the bathroom. You’d only turned on the lights above the sink, the dimness giving him only a glimpse of your outline behind the fogged glass shower door. The steam blurred you into more of a shadow than a person, “You, uh… you alright?”

You hummed, “Define alright.”

Leon pressed his hip against the countertop, and folded his arms, trying to think. Alright is… clear minded. Alright is… functioning. Alright is… not thinking about your wet, naked coworker situationship in the shower in front of you… “Alright as in level headed enough not to tear my neck open, and that you’re not bleeding from anywhere important.”

A whimper left you, and he heard you gasp over the splashing of water against the tiling, “Uh–ah– level headed is subjective, here– Leon–” his name left your lips wrapped in a moan, “ – fu–ack–but I won’t tear your neck open unless you ask nicely.”

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, trying not to picture what you may nor may not be doing in there. He figured he’d ask, though, “Oz, what are you in the shower for, anyway?”

“Too fucking hot,” you whined. Something knocked the wall – he assumed your head, a singular thump of defeat. Your head was probably thrown back, water trailing down your neck– “Trying to cool down. A–and get the hairspra-ay out of my hair–”

“Do you need anything?”

“I need you to come in here and fuck me against the wall.”

Leon gave a start at your sudden abrasiveness, “No…?”

“Please?”

“Oz, I’m not going to–”

“Leon.” you groaned at him, “Even just your fingers–”

“There’s gotta be something– something else–” he argued, uncrossing and re-crossing his arms for something to do that wasn’t thinking about actually joining you.

“There’s not,” you whined, “I tried. It subsides and comes back worse–”

Leon couldn’t help the jump of his half-hard cock at the thought that flashed through his mind – you, splayed out, fingers buried two knuckles deep in yourself in a desperate search of relief from the drugs you’ve been dosed with – followed by an immediate wash of shame.

“You’re drugged,” he stressed with a grunt, “I can’t– I’m not going to take advantage of you, Ozzy, there’s gotta be something–”

He should call it in. Miller, Griffith – someone who can maybe give insight on how to fix this situation– there’s got to be some info at the DSO on what this is and how to fix it without crossing any ethics lines.

“Push–” you trailed off, panting hard, “Push feelings out of this, Leon. You’ve seen what happens if this goes on and I don’t want to turn into one of those things.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose; you were right. Of course you were right. Leon’s been letting personal things cloud his judgement about you, lately, and this – right now – was quite literally life or death for you.

 Something else clattered in the shower, jerking him from his own mind. Leon watched your silhouette slip, one of your hands plastering against the window of the shower, rattling the door. Leon gave a start and – before his mind caught up with his body – reached for the other half of the door to slide it open to make sure you were alright.

As soon as the door slid open a fraction, both of your hands shot out to grip the collar of his shirt, hauling him into the shower with you. You dragged him backwards with you until you were pressed against the wall under the shower head, Leon slipping just enough to have to catch himself with a hand beside your head before your lips were on his.

He was drenched, now, the hot water quick to plaster his shirt to his skin. Your mouth moved desperately against his, hands curling into the hair at his nape. Leon’s other hand gripped the thigh you’d slung over his hip as he bit at your lower lip before finding a semblance of self control and pulling away with a whisper of your name.

You chased after him, grip on his collar tightening to drag him back, hunger wild in your eyes. Leon rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand from the grip on your leg to the apex of your thighs. Your breath fanned his face, lips pulling into a wicked grin, “Good boy.”

Leon’s cock jumped again, and his wet tac-pants were not helping. He swiped two fingers through your slick sex and suddenly his resolve snapped, overridden by the urge to take care of you. He plunged two fingers into you and curled, holding back a soft chuckle at the jolt your body did, “So wet, already.”

You threw your head back against the tiling, again, hips rolling against his hand, a low-grade orgasm shuddering through your body, “Feels so good– always so wet for you, Leon.”

“Did you just–”

“Shut up,” you hissed, manicured nails leaving crescents in his skin.

His fingers beside your head curled before he moved his hand down. He rolled your already hard nipple between his fingers before palming your breast, your heartbeat rapid against his palm. You were absolutely burning up beneath him.

Your hands slid down from his neck, down his soaked shirt, to struggle with his belt, “Off,” you ground out, borderline angry, “Now.”

You managed to get his belt loose, shucking his pants down enough to free his flushed and leaking cock from the confines of his pants. Leon’s eyes screwed shut, mouth going slack when you worked your hands over his cock. 

“Just– jus–” Leon kept moving his fingers, twisting and curling in ways that made your body shudder. He jerked his hips in time with your hands before he pulled his fingers free and batted your hands away. One hand gripped at his base, the other back to bruising your thigh, he lined himself up and bottomed out in one thrust.

Being in the shower fully clothed wasn’t even on the top of the list wrong with this situation–

Leon couldn’t think of any of that with your wet heat wrapped so snugly around him. He snaked his hand down to rub his thumb at your clit and you clenched hard, on the cusp of another orgasm, “Oh-fuck– Leon–”

His hips rutted deliciously up into yours, your back scraping up the shower wall. Between the muscle of Leon and the hardness of the shower, added with the hot water beating down on the two of you– Your eyes screwed shut, mouth stuck open in a soundless moan. Leon hitched your leg from his hip, slinging it over his elbow, stretching your other to your very tiptoes.

The new angle made you squeal and your head fell forward, biting into Leon’s neck. He grunted, hips faltering, “Easy,” he breathed out, punctuating the gentle command with a hard snap of his hips. The tip of him kissing at your cervix.

You couldn’t make any noise except soft oh-oh-uh-ah’s. No witty comeback, no snide comment. You could feel your body temp coming down, clarity coming back into your senses; even if the only sense you had, now, was holy shit, Leon’s hot.

Leon bent his head, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your pulse point before sucking right below your ear. You clenched down on him, again, and he downright whined into your soft skin, “Not gonna last if you do tha-at–”

Your pussy was gripping his cock tight, and you clenched again and held it, “Then don’t,” you snarked quietly, fingers carding into his hair before tugging, “Come for me, Leon. Come in me,” your head fell forward to whisper in his ear, barely audible over the pattering of the shower around you.

He doubled down, rubbing circles on your sensitive clit and one of your hands shot down to grip his wrist, “Wai– no, no–” 

“No?” he cooed, slowing his movements until he was barely moving inside you, “Just a minute ago you wanted–this–” and he snapped his hips, again, sending you up the wall an inch, “Finally come to your senses?”

You squealed, his actions sending another jolt straight down your spine to your already buzzing core. You were so full. Leon’s fingers kept working your clit, working you through wave after wave of your release coming down. Your head was clearer, yet, fog lifting from your mind.

And now you finally realized;

Leon had you pinned.

Against the shower wall.

Inappropriate, but yet; you were alright with this.

A smile slipped onto your mouth, “Hey, Leon.” you breathed out, lifting your other leg to hook your ankles behind his back.

“Hey,” he breathed back, sealing his lips over yours in a bruising kiss that was nothing but teeth.

His movements picked back up, thrusts unforgiving, fingers digging into your hips. One hand left, coming up to rest over your neck as he pressed his full weight into you, breath warm against the shell of your ear. Your hands left him, finding purchase on the showerhead neck to steady yourself against him.

“Want me to come?” he muttered, teeth clenched, “Paint your pretty pussy ‘till your dripping with me? Hmm? That what you want, Oz?”

You nodded, a long, high pitched whine leaving you, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes please, Leon–” you were babbling, hips trying to roll to meet Leon’s despite the position you were locked in. All you could feel was the pressure of him in you – the grip of his fingers on your hip, every inch of him sliding through your slick folds.

“So good for me,” he grunted, “Taking it for me– like you were made for me–”

All you were doing was whining agreements. Another orgasm suddenly ripped down your spine, blindsiding you as you tensed up in Leon’s grip. He tensed, froze almost completely with his head buried in the juncture of your neck. You could feel him twitching inside you, pulsing with his release as he weakly ground his hips up into yours.

The two of you stayed stuck together like that – you, pressed to the shower wall, weakly holding the shower neck, with Leon leaning his whole body into yours. Eventually, your breathing evened out and you nudged your head to the side, knocking it with Leon’s, “Shower’s getting cold.”

“You there?”

“I’m here and I’m as lucid as usual,” you whispered, voice warm.

He chortled, but kept his face buried in your neck, “This was wrong.” his voice was muffled by your wet skin, muffled by the cooling water.

Slowly, he let your legs down until you were standing on your own two feet. You crossed an arm over your chest, and reached with the other to press two fingers under Leon’s chin to make him meet your gaze, “This was lifesaving, Leon. Yeah, I look for any excuse to get folded in half by you, but I literally needed this to survive. So, thank you. Now, also, get out so I can get dressed.”

“We just–” he backed to the opposite end of the shower, clothing heavy with water, and laughed out loud, “I–” I just fucked you against the wall, and you’re worried about me seeing you naked? “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything."

pt. XXXIII Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Fuck it we ball. Keeping this as one whole series masterlist, sorry in advance to those of you who don't want to read a 600 chapter fic lmao

Warnings; depictions of blood and gore. Weaponry of the sorts. Leon's stressed as fuck. Agent Osprey is definitely not feeling the best anymore, my guys

Word count; 2.1k

pt. XXXI

Leon was hauling ass.

Down the mountain slope he had been perched on, moving parallel to the hotel, tearing through the snowy underbrush. His rifle bounced across his back as he swatted branches out of his way. Leon’s boots kept catching on wayward tree roots, each stumble making his heart lurch and his panic flare.

Abbott–

Fucking Abbott.

Leon could barely catch his breath. Could barely even think but he had to, for both himself and for you; he was still in your ear, “Talk to me, Ozzy.”

“I’m warm.”

Your voice sounded weak.

Wrong.

Leon slowed his pace, the ground evening for a beat, “What else?”

“The… the party’s… the people are… wild.”

Fuck. You’re unarmed, too, “Can you get somewhere safe?”

“I… “ a small chuckle, trailing into a hum, “That woman over there is kind of cute…”

“Agent, focus,” it was a kneejerk command; he knew you couldn’t focus with whatever drug you’d been dosed with running its course through your system, “Keep talking to me.” You didn’t reply, and the silence in his ear told him you turned your fucking comms off.

He exploded back into a sprint, his boots skidding in the snow.

Every excuse, every misstep. Had Abbott been playing the DSO this entire fucking time? Leading them in circles? Purposely wasting time? Leon’s teeth were clenched so hard they ached.

The trees were thinning, but the sounds of pandemonium from below were growing louder with every branch his jacket caught as the mountain leveled into the edge of the parking lot. Once through the trees, Leon stopped dead with his feet barely touching the snowy asphalt. The hotel towered over him, warm light spilling from the windows, but the parking lot was a stark contrast; 

People were running. Some running for their lives, others running to hunt. 

Leon reached for his sidearm, thumbing the safety and keeping it gripped tight as he plunged into the panicked throng of partygoers with a strategic sort of movement. Decades of training and active duty took over, washing over Leon with a sense of familiarity;

Avoid collisions.

Calculate threat versus bystander.

Don’t get boxed in.

Keep moving.

Watch hands.

Watch mouths.

And keep watching for Shawna and-or Xaden. One of the DSO’s own fucking agents was now one of Leon’s top priorities, and Leon doesn’t miss.

The parking lot was full panic. Glittery shoes slipping in the snow and blood, car doors hung open and abandoned where their drivers were dragged from the would-be safety. A man in a torn suit, already missing a hand, barreled towards Leon, blood foaming from his mouth.

One shot between the eyes and he folded like a card table.

Leon wasn’t fucking around.

No faces looked familiar as he carved a path to the gaping doors of the ballroom’s entry hall. Another lunged from between two SUVs, dropping the severed arm from between her teeth so she could lunge for Leon;

Two shots.

Down.

No one was paying him any attention, the sounds of gunshots ricocheting off the mountainside before getting drowned out in the screaming. A few more steps, a few more people avoided and he crossed the threshold into the ballroom.

Inside was no better than the parking lot.

Actually, it was worse.

There seemed to be no… unaffected people in here. Blood slicked the floor in thick puddles. Bodies piled, others chewing on them. Leon kept his pistol raised and ready, but tiptoed with caution; if he stayed quiet, maybe he could slip in and find you without issue.

As if on cue, the comm in his ear sputtered to life, “Leon…”

His steps faltered at how… needy you sounded, and he pressed his back to the wall, keeping an eye on a blonde woman in a torn dress who was hunched over what he was sure used to be someone’s leg, “Osprey.” he breathed out, voice steady and quiet, “Where are you?”

“Leon,” your voice was syrup-slow, words slurring, “I miss you, Leon.”

He took a slow, deep breath, “Agent,” he tried again, keeping his voice steady despite the picnic claawing behind his ribs, “You have to tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know where I am,” you murmured. Something in the background screeched, and Leon heard it in real time; one floor up. “I need you.” you purred.

“I’m on the way, sweetheart,” he whispered back, giving a wide berth from anything and anyone that moved. People were staggering around in varying states of disarray; some were tangled in desperate displays of drug fueled embraces that bordered on straight-up fucking where they stood against walls and bannisters. Most others had gone completely feral. Hands and faces slick with blood. Clothes hanging in ribbons, unfocused eyes as they looked for their next target to feast on.

Thankfully, none really seemed interested in him.

Whatever they’d – whatever you’d been drugged with, he needs information on it and fast.

Up a floor looked the same as the first; bloodied and disoriented. Leon moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, hugging the wall and remaining – for the most part – undetected. Once or twice he had to utilize his hatchet, spraying blood across the off-white wallpapering.

He whispered your name as he ducked into an alcove, hiding behind a busted stone statue, “Talk to me, what’s goin’ on?”

“Managed to…” you were out of breath, but your voice sounded clearer than before, “Managed to grab a butcher knife off the catering table.”

Catering table. Leon noted it, and pinned it, narrowing his eyes; it was across the room by the opposite windows, through a maze of disoriented, bloodthirsty people, “Good. What else?”

There was a long silence. Longer than he wanted, before you finally answered, “Nothing.”

“Agent–”

“I had to clear my head, alright,” you blurted, whisper harsh, “Sex based toxin, is what I think it is. It’s affecting my thermo regulation and I was running so fucking hot I had to–” you cleared your throat and Leon could almost hear your teeth grinding, “Orgasm. Alright? It helped, so my assumption was correct.”

“No shame in keeping a level head,” Leon amended, leaving his hideout. His pistol tracked wherever his eyes landed, “Good on you.”

“Literally shut the fuck up.” you sounded winded, “And I mean that as nice as possible. Your voice is making me wetter by the fucking second.”

Any other time, that would’ve made Leon smile. Now, it deepened his frown and made him hum in disapproval, breathing deep through his nose before he said something stupid, “You keep talking, then, for me.”

“It smells good in here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Like blood. Tasty… I think the wallpaper is moving…”

“Sweets, where are you,” Leon repeated.

“Over.”

“Over?”

“Hallways.”

Fuck. You’ve gone and wandered into the actual hotel part of the building. He had yet to figure out if that was a good thing or not, however he knew which way you were headed. Hotel halls stretched from one end of the ballroom, so Leon hugged the railing and tiptoed off.

And promptly flinched [and cussed] when a body flew past, falling from an upper balcony and landing on the ballroom floor below with an echoing crunch.

He risked a glance and saw that the body had no head. No matter; one less trying to kill him.

“Leon…” his name was long. Drawn out in a needy whine that tightened his chest, “Where are you?”

“On the way,” he reassured once more.

“I need you to kiss me.” a beat of silence. A heavy sigh, “Ignore that.”

“Already was.”

You hummed into the comms, again, sultry and inviting and wrong. You didn’t seduce. You never begged – it wasn’t in your nature to beg. You demanded, you propositioned, you bartered but you never begged. A swing of his hatchet opened a path for him to shoulder open the hotel hall door. He kicked it shut behind him and was drenched, suddenly, in eerie silence, the chaos of the ballroom silenced by the wood.

It was the type of silence that was deafening. Heartbeat rapid and loud in his ears. The carpet muted his footfalls as he moved further down the hall. Everything here remained seemingly untouched. A smear of blood here. A cracked hotel room door there. Deep scratches across wood, a still swinging do not disturb sign told Leon that someone was in this hall recently.

He shuddered and continued, toeing quietly lest he wake someone he shouldn’t, “Osprey,” he began, “What’s your six?”

The ceiling shook with thundering footfalls from the floor above, and your shuddering voice came through his ear, “Hiding.”

“Where, Oz,” Leon stressed, “Can you tell me any numbers?”

“Six…two…seven… four eighty.”

“Four hundred eighty?” he repeated, ignoring whatever other numbers you were on about. The door his back was pressed to had four-hundred-even hanging below the peephole. The hairs on his neck stood on end, feeling suddenly like he was being watched, “Stay put. I’m almost there.”

“Hurry. I’m warm.” you whined.

He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to wake anything so he continued at his snails pace. As he could see, the hall ahead was empty of people. Noise carried, if he ran, it would be loud and whatever was upstairs was bad enough to rattle the light fixtures; he did not want that chaos to come down here.

412.

414.

416.

The doors to his right continued up by twos. At the rate he was going, running shouldn’t be needed, anyway, “Almost there, Oz.” However, he got no reply. Static, but silent, “If you can hear me, do not open the door for anyone but me.”

Leon slowed as he passed 424, his gut twisting when he heard wet crunching coming from inside the barely cracked door. There was a crimson handprint smudged on the doorframe, streaking inward. Leon holstered his weapon and pulled his hatchet out instead before slowly toeing open the door.

The only light in the room was a flickering, overturned bedside lamp. The room had two beds, bedding and pillows thrown everywhere, and one attached bathroom. The floor was black with wet blood and warm bath water, the tub overflowing with bath foam. Leon reached in and clicked on the bathroom light;

Empty.

Something further in the room growled, catching Leon’s attention again. His grip on his hatchet tightened as he took another step, the carpet squelching beneath his boots. Two steps later and Leon’s knee bumped into a half open dresser drawer, and that’s when the fun began. The man crouched between the two beds shot to his feet, whipping around to face Leon. Leon’s body tightened, bracing for a fight, and the man dropped the bloody rib in his hand before launching over the bed at Leon.

Leon steeled himself and took the hit head-on, forearm across the guy’s pale neck while bloodied teeth gnashed at Leon’s face. He stumbled back, the weight of the man driving the two of them back towards the door. Leon caught himself on the bathroom door frame with his free hand, steadying his weight enough to push the man off. Before Leon could swing his hatchet, the man flung himself forward again, the momentum knocking the weapon into the growing puddle on the floor.

Leon ducked out of the way, keeping clear of teeth and hands, and kicked the man into the bathroom. He stumbled in the water, keeling to all fours. Leon swiped his face clear from the backsplash of water just in time for the man to turn and start crawling back towards him, snapping at his ankles.

Leon kicked him in the jaw, teeth flying, before Leon grabbed the bathroom door handle and yanked. He slammed it shut on the guy’s temple, and the guy fell flat. For extra caution, Leon continued;

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Brains added to the pool of blood and water, and Leon was now sopping wet. He huffed and stood straight, “Lock the door next time, buddy.”

Leon’s hatchet had slid under the nearest bed. He sifted through wet pillow down and grabbed it, shaking water droplets from it before returning it to its place on his lower back.

The hallway was still quiet. Leon’s boots still squelched when he walked, but not as bad as before. Down the hall, around the corner and– 480 was at the end. Apparently, the hotel section of this building was in the shape of an L.

Keycard access, only, and the door was shut tight. He tried the handle, just to be sure. Locked. Leon raised a fist, his forehead inches from the door, and knocked twice, “Ozzy?”

Nothing.

He knocked again. “Oz.”

Nothing.

He was about to try a third time when he noticed the blood on the door. Leon’s heart skipped before he realized it was deliberately painted there in the shape of an arrow pointing up.

He raised an eyebrow, eyes moving before the rest of his head followed. And sure enough, lodged in the trim above the door;

A dark blue keycard.

Leon snorted at the innovation of that and snatched it up in his hand.

pt. XXXII Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[menmadeofwarninglabels]

Thinking about older Leon...

...with that awful habit of bracing one hand above your head when he leans in to talk to you, not even trying to be seductive, just naturally boxing you in by virtue of being broad and unfair

And you have to look up at him through your eyelashes

And he smells like expensive cologne and gun oil

And maybe it's not an established relationship, so you can't just reach out and touch him...

...but you really want to....

And when you look at his lips like that...he really wants you to

You know?

[riddikulus-obsessions]

You had me at hand above my head 😏👀

[only-cat-memes]

[thecolorofthegame]

[depsidase]

[homunculus-argument]

If Ratatouille mechanics were real, there would be a whole market of businesses offering the services of operating rats to people who want them, and it'd be like how bees produce honey. People in the rat business would be so exhausted of having to explain over and over again that no, the rats aren't being exploited. If the rats didn't like how they're being treated, they would simply not return. There's no goddamn way to force a rat to be so passionate about playing the saxophone that they'll figure out how to puppeteer a human to do it for them. All that the business does is finding a way to put that specific rat in the hair of someone who's about to go on stage.

[terrie01]

The rats 100% think the businesses are being run for their benefit and worry about the humans being exploited.

[homunculus-argument]

A rat manager who is a rat and deals on their end of the deal is exhausted of having to explain over and over again that look, an average fully grown adult human being is like 200 times your weight, their hands are very fast and they can throw things better than you want to imagine. If one of them things didn't want you in their hair, you're not going to stay there for long. You'd be yote out the window in two seconds flat.

[riddikulus-writings]

Guys send help

I've been trying to brainstorm like an entire series off my "couple of blurbs" I had an idea for, instead of sticking with the "couple" I had in mind 💀

Would anyone actually read any of them? Even with my probably terrible writing of Leon¿ 👀👀

[riddikulus-writings]

The answer was, apparently, yes, you lovely people WOULD read my God awful writing for Leon

And I thank you for sticking thru it for the 30 chapters so far

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Might chunk this in half starting here, depending on if anyone tells me their thoughts of a two-part fic

Warnings; Cliffhanger that is definitely going to make you hate me

Word count; 1.1k

pt. XXX

The night dragged on.

The two of you spent most of the night orbiting Shawna, drifting in and out of small tidbits of conversation with her as she introduced you to investors, executives and other trust-fund babies who have money to waste on being pieces of total trash. You dutifully committed each name and face to memory as each lap yielded more information, another careless confession, another thread to tug to lead the DSO to more bio-tech that shouldn’t exist and wouldn’t exist after they were done with them.

Shawna liked you.

Which, technically, wasn’t a good thing.

But, you still couldn’t deny your satisfaction at knowing you still had it in you to be malleable enough to slip into the role of rich evil asshole. Wealthy, ambitious and detached from reality enough to think yourself better than everyone.

You hoped Leon was proud. You hoped he was getting all of this, too.

You also hoped you could leave soon. You were positive you had enough intel to take down a shit ton of people, total companies, really, so you weren’t really sure what else you could do here.

You’d been here for hours. Abbott had parked you at the bar and disappeared some time ago. You drummed your fingers on the polished bar top, chin resting on the heel of your other, while you watched the party. Somewhere along the way, it had stopped pretending to be a respectable party. Bow ties loosened around collars, jackets long forgotten somewhere. Expensive heels kicked off beneath the tables and dress straps were being tugged down shoulders as men twice their age leaned far closer than propriety allowed.

The music had changed from classical sounding to more upbeat, bass pulsed beneath your feet. The bartender once more asked if you wanted something and you shook your head at him, “No thank you.”

“Not even water?”

You were thirsty, but still, “No, I’m okay, yet. Thank you.” after he left further down the bar, you glanced around you to make sure no one was too close [the ones that were, were so lost in one another, they paid you no mind], “Leon, you awake yet?”

“Obviously.” he was wide awake, yet, scope dutifully trained on you, sitting alone at the bar, right in the corner by the window. Where you preferred; corner seat, on the end, so no one could box you in from both sides, “What kind of question even is that. You gettin’ tired?”

“Little bit.” you admitted, fighting back a yawn, “The amount of bare thighs I’m suddenly seeing is… sort of grossing me out.”

Leon was well aware of the amount of skin other patrons were showing, but he was focused on you and the amount of skin you were showing. Even from his position, he could see the glossy sheen of sweat beginning across your back, and the way you had your legs crossed showed him more thigh than he wanted you to be showing at the moment, “Don’t look, then.”

“Easier said than done, loverboy,” you commented, turning your back to the window to watch the party. Where the hell was Abbott? “People here are getting really handsy all of a sudden.”

It had happened gradually, you were sure, but you were so focused on the task at hand you hadn’t really paid much attention. Now that there was a lull in work, you were fully aware of how the carefully curated gala had suddenly become a den of unchecked indulgence.

Lipstick was smeared across collars of dates the women didn’t arrive with. Wedding bands were flashing beneath the dim chandeliers. Women in wrinkled dresses were draping themselves over men – sometimes more than one at a time – and skirts were being bunched around hips with reckless abandon while lips latched onto necks.

Something was wrong.

“Probably just too much to drink,” Abbott’s voice in your ear cut through the din as he slid onto the barstool beside you, “Work is pretty much done,” he pressed a cocktail glass into your hand; a brandy Old Fashioned, “Have one before we leave.”

You gladly took it from him and drank half in one gulp, “Ah, fuck, that’s good.”

“Made it myself.” he beamed.

Somewhere across the room, crystal exploded across the marble flooring. You coughed in surprise, catching a dribble of cocktail down your chin as you turned in time to see a woman sprawled in the wreckage of a champagne tower. She was giggling, attempting to climb into someone’s lap with another, not even noticing where her arm was bloodied red from where glass had sliced her.

In another corner, an argument ignited. Heated too fast, like a burner on a stove turned all the way to high. One threw a punch, landing true on the other’s jaw; he barely recoiled before retaliating. You flinched, “Abbott—”

“That’s the issue with this stuff,” he clicked his tongue, watching the chaos unfolding with almost a detached sort of interest, “Too rough too fast.”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, brow furrowing. The air suddenly felt too hot. Too thick. You rubbed at your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Desire. Anger. Fear.” he listed, his gaze darkening as he stared at you. Somewhere – a floor below, you think – a scream bounced off the walls, “Strips your mind’s control over your hormones. Heightens desperation, spikes your core temperature. Makes your baser instincts come out with a sort of… urgency that you can’t control anymore.”

Your stomach tightened, and you rubbed at your forehead, again. You felt flushed. You probably looked flushed. Your pulse was loud in your ears, but not loud enough to drown anything out; the floor below sounded like hell. Screams mixing with the thundering sound of hundreds of footsteps rushing for an exit. An alarm somewhere – ground level, maybe – began to wail. You pressed your icy glass to the side of your face to try to cool your skin.

“Ozzy,” Leon’s voice was suddenly loud in your ear, cutting through the haze clouding your mind, sharper than you’d ever heard it, “Get away from him.”

Loud. Urgent. The words registered, but your body refused to obey what you were telling it. Your head was swimming, heat crawling underneath your skin, rushing straight down and settling low in your abdomen. Abbott suddenly smelled unfairly delicious. Cedar, bourbon, whatever cologne Tyler had spritzed on him, and your thighs clenched together, looking for some type of relief your mind wanted no part in, “Abbott–” 

Slowly, you pulled the glass away from the side of your face, staring at it with blurring vision. The light caught the melting ice cubes, mocking the heat coiling in your belly. Abbott’s smile widened, his eyes gauging your reaction with a quiet satisfaction, “You broke your one rule, tonight, Agent. Remember what that was?”

Don’t be taking any food or drink from anyone.

Understood?

pt. XXXI

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Might chunk this at chapter 30 👀👀

Warnings; Gross evil people parties are gross and evil. And fancy. Expositional chapter.

I'm binge posting my latest writings before I start hating them btws

Word count; 1.9k

pt. XXIX

The Aurelia Hotel was all windows.

At least, that’s what it looked like. Floor to ceiling windows wrapped all four floors. It made the building seem almost transparent, framing the snowcapped Rockies standing tall and unyielding against the night sky beyond them. 

You swallowed thickly; you were heading into the belly of the beast, now.

No turning back.

Other patrons of the party bustled through the parking lot around you, the murmur of hushed conversations mixing with the music spilling from inside. Sweat was beginning to bead at the nape of your neck, despite the mountain-cold air. Your heels crunched in the light dusting of snow beneath your feet, and your fingers subconsciously tightened around Abbott’s bicep, finding comfort in the heat seeping through his tux jacket.

“Honey, you seem nervous.” he commented, his other hand coming up to lay gently over your fingers.

You briefly tipped your head into his shoulder, resting your head there for a fraction of a second before straightening your spine, “You know how much I love parties, Jamie.”

He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, “You’ll be fine.”

You kept your left hand looped around his arm while your right slipped into his left. From a distance, you were sure you looked like the devoted couple you were supposed to be. Just to make sure, you took a deep breath, “How are we lookin’, Condor?”

Somewhere behind you, up on a desolate mountain ridge, Leon was laying belly-down in the accumulating snow. He adjusted the scope on his rifle and took a deep breath; he was not going to answer that truthfully, because you specifically looked absolutely devourable, “You two look fine. Now ignore me.”

“Hard to ignore you when you’re in my ear.” was the sly whisper that came back, amusement clear in your words.

Leon shook his head, snow falling off his fringe and down his nose, and huffed quietly, but stayed otherwise silent; instructions from Miller were clear without needing to be said outright; minimal contact. This is their mission, he was just a supervisor.

A very, very distant supervisor.

He double checked the safety on his rifle before settling back in to follow the two of you with the scope. A few more seconds and the two of you would disappear into the building, swallowed by warm light and lurking predators, and then he’d have a helluva time keeping track of the two of you in there.

Inside of the building was breathtaking. Out of all the missions you’d ever been on, undercover or not, this was by far the prettiest. At least bioweaponry paid well. You couldn’t help but crane your neck upwards as Abbott led you inside, your wide eyes drinking in the sparkling chandelier hanging in the entryhall. White marble staircases spiraled either side of the room, landings stretching across the length of the building before opening wide into the floors beyond.

This was some fucking ballroom.

You could only assume that the hotel part of this supposed hotel was somewhere off to your left.

Party goers dotted the stairs, and you could see even more piled into the three upper floors. The clinking of glasses mixed with the chatter from everyone, and you slowed your steps. Abbott noticed – of course he noticed, “Kate, are you feeling alright?”

“Apprehensive, is all,” you muttered, “I’m simply hoping you’ll behave yourself for once tonight. Don’t make me regret bringing you.”

“Oh, you worry too much,” he squeezed your fingers and led you to the bottom of the right-side staircase, careful to keep a steadying hand on you at all times as the two of you ascended.

“Remember who you’re looking for?”

You hummed quietly in agreement, careful to keep minimal mouth movement as you whispered a quick answer, “Black hair. Dark eyes. Tall. Skinny. Personally, I think she looks like a bird.” a bird of prey, but a bird. Like a hawk, or a raven.

“Good girl.”

Your thighs clenched, and your heel caught the edge of the next step up; Abbott caught you before you could pitch completely forward, “Careful, honey.”

“I’m not good with heels,” you reminded him, lying about why you tripped, “Good thing I have you.” The quiet sound of  Leon’s chortling in your ears was not helping anything, and you grit your teeth. Asshole. You forced your face back into the mask of someone who wanted to be here, someone who was specifically looking for something. Someone. Anything.

Everyone here was faking it, looking out for their own interests. Not one single person was here for enjoyment; business transactions only. 

By the time the two of you reached the top floor, you were Katheryn, again. Not an agent with a marksman whispering in your ear, and definitely not someone who’s knees had just given out because you’d been called a good girl – in the middle of a fucking op, nonetheless.

The busiest part of the party stretched out in front of you, expensive perfumes assaulting your nose in one giant cloud. Chatter drifted easily between people –  discussions of who arrived with who, who wasn’t invited and why. The newest fashions and newest intel on what secret company was wagering against which others.

Everyone wore the confidence of someone who was supposed to be here, and thankfully you felt no different than they all looked. You took a deep, calming breath and pretended not to feel the crosshairs of Leon’s scope on your back.

Everyone here was selling something. A promise. A smile. A secret.

It was your guys’ job to find the secrets.

Abbott’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you towards the opposite window-wall – classic move. Have no particular destination and hope that someone stopped you to talk on the way there, “Remember, no causing any trouble.”

“Always quick to assume it’s me who’s going to cause it,” you chided, using your ‘customer service’ voice. Your earpiece crackled with Leon’s quiet laughter, again, and you growled quietly in a not-so-silent warning;

Shut the fuck up.

The two of you weaved through guests and waiters with the precision you took pride in having; predict someone’s intended path and mirror the movements to glide easily out of the way without collision. In doing so, you parted a few feet from Abbott, weaving and twisting in an almost-dance across the floor, your feet ghosting over the floor in tune with the music playing in the background.

Abbott tried to keep up, but was mostly watching you sway your way away from him; he was impressed with how smoothly you moved and how you were still able to avoid all people. 

Somewhere outside, Leon was watching with the same awe, twisting the knob on his scope to zoom further in to keep watch on the two of you, but doing so with difficulty the further into the building the two of you moved; the windows and the angle he was at only provided so much visual.

Some ways away, you stopped short; foot still raised, paused mid air with your next step in mind. 

Dark hair.

Tall.

Scrawny.

You slowly lowered your heel back to the floor, and half turned to find Abbott in the crowd. Your eyes scanned, cataloging every face until you locked onto the familiar one coming towards you. Your hand reached out, fingers beckoning him in an almost childish come here motion as you whispered out loud to overwatch, “Condor, I found the birdie we’re lookin’ for.”

“Go make friends, Osprey.” was the only response you got before the comms went dead again.

Leon, however, was still on edge; if you moved three more feet forward, he would lose sight of the both of you completely.

It was not lost on him that Wright seemed to be keeping out of view of this side of the building, but until the habit continued, Leon would have to assume that it was coincidental.

Play nice.

The reminder echoed in your head as Abbott led you straight towards Shawna, but her dark eyes landed on the two of you before you got anywhere near her, and your suspicion skyrocketed. She was watching the two of you with an interest that made your hackles raise like a dog that was pissed because someone new was in its yard.

You stopped in front of her, keeping your hand firmly in Abbott’s to ground you to reality while your free hand snatched a flute of champagne off a passing waiter plate; just for something to hold, not to drink, “Evening, Shawna.”

She smiled back. Teeth too white. Too perfect. Crime pays, I suppose. “Evening. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Katheryn Bowers,” you moved your hand from Abbott’s arm and offered a hand for Shawna to shake, “I’m amazed at your work with Umbrella and how you’re able to be keeping ties with it for so long despite its… issues the last few years. I myself prefer stock in Helix Pharm, but I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.” even you felt revolted by the smile on your lips; it felt slimy.

She dropped your hand and narrowed her eyes, assessing you – once up, once down – before her eyes shifted to Abbott, “And who’s this handsome fellow?”

“Jameson West,” he answered, gently taking Shawna’s hand before pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Miss Wright.”

Shawna laughed, the sound high pitched, “Oh I like him.”

“After tonight is finished, you can have him for all I care,” you shot a practiced look of disgust his way, “He’s here for arm candy. Otherwise, he’s such a pain in my ass lately–” you trailed off, tsking your tongue at him.

“Honey, you know I love you–”

“Jamie,” you stressed, cocking your head towards him, giving him a look sharp enough to draw blood, “Four times. This year. If you loved me, that wouldn’t be there. We wouldn’t have split four times.”

“But–”

“Do you want it to be a fifth?” you snapped. He stayed quiet, and you nodded, “I suggest you learn to behave, then, Jameson. The adults are talking.”

“Ouch. Take it easy on the guy, damn.”

Shawna quirked a manicured brow at the two of you, “Feisty. I like you.” she offered her arm out, “Walk with me, Kate. I want to hear more about Helix. Their corporate execs are nasty old men, don’t seem to like me, much. Do tell me how you got in.”

You glanced at Abbott, looking for a tell of some sort, anything to tell you he didn’t want you wandering too far, but he held his hands up in defeat, “I can survive five minutes without you. Try not to bankrupt anyone, honey.”

“I make no promises,” you grinned, “Do try to keep your hands to yourself while I’m away, yeah?”

“Do not.” Leon’s heart was hammering, watching you loop your arm through Shawna’s as you had with Abbott moments prior, “Lady, do not wander off with the target on your own.” he could tell you weren’t listening, regardless of if you were able to answer him or not. 

It didn’t stop him from trying, “Agent. Osprey!” he even snapped your full, legal, government name into the earpiece and you still disappeared where he couldn’t see.

He earlier praised this comm system, enjoying that it was just the two of you in each others’ ears, but now he cursed it for not being able to snap at Abbott to fucking do something. 

Your voice was still in his ear, “Everyone has a talent.” you were still using your ‘customer service’ voice. Fake, higher pitched than usual. Polished.

Somewhere in the background, Leon barely heard Shawna’s voice, “And yours?”

“Knowing when someone is trying to figure me out.” 

Leon pulled back from the scope and rested his forehead against it, staring down at his gloved fingers wrapped around the stock, being forced to just… wait and listen.

He hated waiting and listening.

pt. XXX

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Still can't decide if I wanna chunk it or not. Am having an existential crisis about this, guys lmao

Also, be honest; is the twenty-some-odd chapters intimidating? Should I chunk this book in two?

Warnings; Leon's a little shit, pretty much. Filler chapter. Party-prep. Trying to figure out how to write, yet.

Word count; 1.9k

pt. XXVIII

“Was the hair dyeing really necessary?” Leon asked through the closed bathroom door.

Marlene was putting the finishing touches on your get-up; fretting with your makeup, setting a wayward hair curl that wouldn’t cooperate. Your hair never really held curls well to begin with– the amount of hairspray in your hair right now was downright criminal, “How many rich, evil people do you know with green hair, Leon?” the silence from him in response spoke wonders, “Exactly. Now be quiet, I’m almost done.”

She continued to fuss. A dash of blush here. A bobby pin there. A bit more mascara, where she almost poked out your eye, anyway, “Alright,” Marlene stepped away from you, capping the mascara while backing towards the shower, the glass doors still wet from your last hair rinse, “You can look, now.”

Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned to face the mirror behind you and– oh holy shit. She’d dyed your hair from your faded green back to something as close to your natural colour as she could get it. It was a shade or two lighter, but it worked. You couldn’t remember the last time you had regular hair. Seeing yourself with it now…? Between that, the professional face of full makeup, and the dress they’d picked for you, you looked unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

You turned your face, regarding how the bathroom light shimmered off your cheekbones, “Looks like me. Sounds like me… but that sure as hell don’t look like me…”

“That’s the point, hun,” Marlene smiled, obviously proud of her work, “You aren’t you.”

Three knocks on the door, “You decent?”

“Not at all,” your voice was flat with forced sarcasm, “Come on in, but we’d like to leave if you need to pee or something.”

The door started creaking open, “You two ne–” Leon’s voice stopped short when his eyes fell on you standing sheepishly in front of the mirror. His throat bobbed, eyes trailing over you before landing back on your face, “--ed to leave soon…” he finished slowly, the words falling like molasses past his lips.

Your brows furrowed, “Do I look alright?”

Christ– what kind of question even was that? Leon’s eyes dragged over you, drinking in every bit of your outfit that you thought only looked alright.

Slim-fit. Dark green. Fucking backless dress.

Slender corset straps crossed three times over your bare back before tying together just above your hips. Silver kitten heels glittered against the dark wooden floor. The sides of your hair were pulled back from your face, curled in loose ringlets that tumbled down your shoulders. 

He's seen you coated in blood and brains. He's seen you in threadbare loungewear with a hole in the asscheek. Leon has seen you in muddy barn clothes wrestling livestock. 

You looked great no matter what, but right now? He swallowed again, his throat dry, “You look great, Oz.”

“Only great?” your voice was coy, a smirk tugging at your painted lips, “Marlene needs to step her game up if I only look great.”

Leon was considering the consequences if he booted Abbott to overwatch. Would Miller really be that pissed off?

Probably

[Definitely].

You started across the sizable bathroom, turning slightly to scoot past Leon, “S'cuse me, Leon.”

Leon tried to ignore how close you were while inching past him. He flattened himself against the doorframe, but it wasn’t enough. Your body still brushed his, your perfume ghosting past him and sticking in his nose– you didn’t even wear perfume. 

“Next time,” Marlene began, packing up her makeup supplies, “Try not to go so hard at her neck. Those hickeys were a bitch to cover, Leon.”

Leon’s cheeks heated, no doubt tinting pink, “I didn't– those– Marley, those were from her fight with Tim.”

“Most of those,” she corrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “Most of those – and the facial bruising – were from her fighting. Three of them were not, and I can tell the difference. It’s my job to tell the difference.”

From your seat on the edge of your bed, you were biting your cheek hard to keep from laughing at Leon getting reprimanded in such a fashion – especially since, if Leon shifted just right, there was a matching bruise peeking from underneath his own collar. Marlene reconvened in the opposite corner with Tyler [male-oriented hair] and Luke [wardrobe], who had been doting on Abbott this entire time, “Those two are exhausting, help me out.”

Luke gave an indifferent shrug. You could tell the gesture was half apologetic and half, 'I don’t care', “What they do in their free time is none of my concern – unless Leon messes up my work.” he narrowed his green eyes at Leon, “So keep your paws off until they get back here, yeah?”

Leon gave him a look that clearly conveyed what the fuck is wrong with you, “I have more class than that, Luke. I’m not a hormonal teenager.”

“I saw the state of her neck before Marlene got to work,” Luke turned his attention back to the tuxedo hung in front of him, ironing out a wrinkle in the vest, “You sure you aren’t hormonal?”

Tyler snorted, almost branding Abbott with the flat iron in his hand. Marlene cackled – as did you – and Abbott was fighting a smile. Leon turned around and beat his head on the doorframe of the bathroom, “You people are insufferable. I’m surrounded by children.”

“No,” Luke began, fussing with the sleeves of the tux, now, “Children are, somehow, easier to dress than these two.”

“The two–” Tyler cleared his throat, “Three of them do need to be leaving soon. Gala starts in two hours and it’s almost an hour’s drive.”

“Showing up fashionably late never killed anyone before,” you yawned. A careful fluff of your curls allowed you to sprawl yourself onto the bedspread without wrecking Marlene’s work, your hair fanning around your head like a halo.

Leon sidled over a moment and sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “Do you remember the file info?”

“What am I? A newbie?” you scoffed, cracking open one eye to examine him; some of the red had drained from his cheeks, and he was chewing on something, “Of course I remember the files. Katheryn Bowers, and her on-again-off-again fling Jameson West. Lots of money, investments. Trust fund baby, venture capitalist in name only, evil on paper. Etcetera, etcetera… Both of us apparently have enough money to payroll entire militaries and I’m investing in bioweaponry research through a string of shell companies that never actually trace back to my name. Donate a shit ton of money in the public eye while also donating to companies that should abso-fuckin-lutely not exist. Jameson over there is pretty much just eye candy.”

“Good.” was the only reply you got from him as he held out his open hand to you.

Fruit snacks. As you examined them, you raised an eyebrow, sitting up to get a better look at the bunch in his hand, “Only good? No gold star for me?”

“Only fruit snacks, sorry,” he shook his hand at you. You glanced at them again and Leon gave you a look, “No strawberries, don’t worry.”

Your gaze shot to his, your chest warming, “You remembered?”

He dumped the handful into your hand, “Of course I remembered.”

That’s what he’d been chewing on; strawberry fruit snacks. One by one you ate the handful, “Thank you,” you said, voice sincere, “I needed a snack, actually. Not sure when I’ll be able to eat, again.”

“That’s why I brought a family-sized box,” a quiet smile tugged at the corner of Leon’s mouth.

Of course he’d gotten the big box. Always thinking three steps ahead, solving issues before they actually cropped up; you liked to snack, and Leon remembered one of your go-tos to keep around.

Somewhere behind the two of you, Tyler and Luke were snarking at one another over whatever Abbott was doing, but eventually the quiet commotion died down and Leon looked over his shoulder at them, “Damn, Xaden, you clean up pretty good.”

Abbott was standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows, examining his reflection, “You’re right, I do.”

“I clean up better,” you slowly raised yourself to your feet. You gave your hair one last fluff, tugged at a couple spots on your dress. You did a slow spin, looking yourself over best you could, “Yeah, I look better than any of you people.”

Leon agreed, but not out loud. He, too, pushed to his feet, “Abbott, remember the files?”

“The name is Jameson, thank you,” he corrected smoothly, straightening his cuffs out.

“Alright, Jameson, humor me,” Leon crossed his arms over his broad chest, his shirt straining at the seams. Suddenly, your mouth was watering. Was it hot in here?

“Serial investor,” Abbott began, “More money than brains, though. Professional pain in the ass, here to accompany my very complicated and scary girlfriend to her party.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Tyler corrected quietly without looking up from what he was doing.

“Current.” Abbott argued.

“Ex.” Leon chimed in.

“Current,” Abbott repeated, his eyebrow raising – a challenge, if you would.

“You’ve broken up four times this year,” Luke deadpanned, reaching to adjust Abbott’s pocket square by a fraction of a fraction, “Statistically, Tyler has better odds with her.”

“Thanks,” Tyler sighed, straightening up, “Love you guys, too.”

“Just being realistic, there, bud,” Luke shrugged, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, “Anywhore,” he sighed with your signature expositional word, “The point is that you two have history. People will expect bickering, just don’t overdo it.”

“Me? Overdo something?” you feigned upset, “I’m hurt.”

“Ozzy–” Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, “Behave.”

“You telling me to behave is rich,” you squeezed his bicep.

“What’s your motivation for being a rich, evil asshole?” he asked, slipping back into his pre-op exercise.

“Power.”

“Public image?”

“Everything,” you beamed, grin wide but wrong. The way you had it, made you look like a shark in shallow waters.

“Private image?” with every question, Leon’s head was unconsciously tilting further down, face dipping closer to yours. 

You were leaning up, threatening to meet him halfway, your eyes glued on his mouth, “Wouldn’t you like to know…” you muttered, grip on his arm tightening.

Across the room by the windows, Luke cleared his throat, “Leon. What did I tell you earlier?”

The two of you broke apart, your hand still resting on him but loose. Leon huffed, “Yeah, paws off.”

Marlene glanced at her watch, “You two need to drop Leon off at his watch point, yet. Oz, honey, c’mere so I can fit you with your comms, and then let’s get yous out the door.”

You left Leon’s side and sat on the edge of Abbott’s bed, waiting for Marlene to take out a pair of silver earring clips from their box, “Those look fancy.”

“New tech from the DSO labs,” she smiled, kneeling down beside you, “They clip to the edge of the shell of your ear, look completely decorative but they’re working comms. Only issue is that you and Leon will be the only ones able to communicate direct, so if Abbott needs anything, Leon can hear him if he’s close enough to you, but you’ll have to act as relay.”

You smiled a bit, “Mediating between loverboys. Sign me right the fuck up.” you also flinched at how tight the comm clips were, “Any tighter and they’re going to actually pierce my ears, Marls.”

She offered an apologetic shrug, “Take it up with labs, hun.” she patted your knee and stood, “Ready when you are.”

You stood and moved briskly across the room before you had second thoughts about this entire operation. Your heart was absolutely hammering as you snatched your white fur overwrap from the hook by the door before twisting the doorknob, “Well, c’mon, boys. We have a party to crash.”

pt. XXIX Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

Gonna level with you guys; shit's gettin' real

Also, be honest; is the twenty-some-odd chapters intimidating? Should I chunk this book in two?

Warnings; Miller is pissed. Turns out Abbott isn't... super god awful horrible? I feel a bit bad for him, he just wants a friend

Word count; 3.3k

pt. XXVII

“I went to people whose jobs are to evaluate operational risks–”

“You went behind my fucking back, Kennedy,” Miller snapped, “Don’t stand there and act like your concern comes only from operational standpoints.”

“Sir–”

“I could still have you benched.” Miller told him, voice shaking with barely contained fury, “I could have you suspended under the right conditions.”

“Sir, with all due respect–”

“Respect from you means nothing to me right now,” Miller spat, fists clenching on his desktop. That statement hurt Leon a bit more than he would like to admit, “Trying to overturn the decisions I make on my own floor–”

“Not overturn,” Leon corrected, staying rooted to the floor, scared to move lest Miller swing on him; he’d never seen him this pissed, “If I see something that puts agents at risk, I feel obligated to raise concern and you weren’t listening, so I got secondary opinions.”

“I answered your concerns the first time. That should’ve been the end of it,” Miller stood straight, “And now you’re telling me that, because my opinions don’t match yours, I haven’t considered the same risks you’re pointing out?”

“I’m simply telling you that the room for error on this mission, with this particular set of agents, is too small–”

“And I’m telling you that you’ve become too emotionally invested in what happens with Agent Osprey, Condor.”

Leon flinched at the sound of his old codename, “Sir–”

“No,” Miller held up a hand, “Answer me one question, Leon. If Osprey weren’t on this mission, if it were Abbott and anyone else from this floor– would you still be standing in my office?” Leon let the silence hang, his jaw clenching as he focused on some framed… thing hanging on Miller’s office wall. Miller scoffed, “That right there is answer enough.”

“It’s because she should be being treated as a rookie,” Leon argued, again.

“And do you not think that’s the reason why she’s being sent on recon only right now?” Miller asked, “The reasoning behind me not sending her straight into the field? Across waters to Europe with nothing but a couple hand guns and a comm in her ear? Believe it or not, I do know what I’m doing, Kennedy.”

“I never said–”

“You implied it.” Miller huffed, his voice softening a great deal, “You’re one of – if not the finest agent I’ve ever had under my command. You going around me because of personal affairs is disappointing. You didn’t technically violate any regulations in doing it, but you’ve violated my trust.” Miller let the words hand, let the disappointment seep into his tone, “You stopped trusting my judgement when my choices made you uncomfortable.”

Leon drew in a shaky breath, holding Miller’s eye contact, “Sir, I trusted you enough to believe that you would think twice if more than one person raised my same concerns.”

“Funny how Kora and Decker didn’t have these same concerns earlier this week when we already met about this assignment,” Miller mused, finally sitting down in his chair. It seemed he’d said all he needed to, the tension dissipating from his body, “For the record, they did talk some sense. Whenever you said anything, I could only hear concern about Osprey because of… well, you know.”

“Sir, that’s not–”

“I’m adding a third agent,” Miller cut him off, playing with a manilla folder in front of him, “Not because you, or anyone, forced my hand, but because Kora and Decker raised concerns I was ignoring when coming from your mouth. That, I do apologize for, but consider us even for going behind my back.”

Leon blinked slowly, “Sir?”

“Don’t mistake this outcome for approval,” Miller closed the folder and slid it across the desk, keeping his fingertips pressed to it, “Go behind me like that again, after I’ve already given you direct orders, and I will have your job suspended. No more undermining command structure because of personal feelings, Leon.”

Silence fell between the two of them, again, staring at one another, neither man moving. Finally Miller shook his head and sighed heavily, “This folder leaves with you. It’s debrief for the three of you on who you’re keeping direct eyes out for. Take your sniper, you leave with prep team in two hours. Do not wedge yourself where you don’t belong. Overwatch, only, Leon.”

Leon had to fight to hide the smile threatening his face, “Yes, sir.”

-

You. Were. Miserable.

The drive to the airport was annoying as hell. The plane ride was semi-decent, since you slept for an hour and some-odd. From the airport, there was an issued vehicle in the lot for the two of you and you silently thanked the DSO for taking your driving preference into consideration;

Dark blue, four door, manual transmission Wrangler. It was one of three manuals they kept around, and you were one of the only ones who drove them.

That being said, Abbott still felt the need to offer to drive.

“Do you even know how to drive stick?”

“No… here let me get the door for you–”

“I’m not helpless.”

“No, I know–”

“Stop acting like I am.”

Upon pulling into the hotel parking lot, he was relentless. ‘Let me grab your bag!’ ‘I’ll get the door–’ ‘wait here, I’ll go check us in–’

Yeah, most women probably liked being doted on.

You were not most women.

It wouldn’t have even probably been bad, had he actually been good at his offers. You were out the vehicle before he offered to get your door– you were to the hotel door first when he offered to get it. Your bags consisted of a small, black, cross-body purse that held a chapstick, your phone, maybe a lipstick and your wallet. You think there may be some hand sanitizer and a nail clipper somewhere, too.

The thing only had two pockets.

And a super small sunflower-patterned duffle that contained, like, a toothbrush, toothpaste and something to sleep in at night. Pink shorts, or your Pikachu pajama pants, and a shirt of some sort, you couldn’t even remember anymore. Just rifled through the backseat of your jeep for some wayward clothing before leaving.

Nothing of yours constituted him even needing to offer to carry anything.

And now, it was super fucking early on Saturday morning, the room still dark, the city below quiet. The Rockies in the distance silhouetted against the dark purple sky, the sun starting to threaten to turn the sky orange. You were trying to enjoy some peace and quiet, but apparently Abbott knew how to sleep about as well as you did.

“So, how long have you and Kennedy been…?” he left the sentence hang.

You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth, and sighed heavily into the silence between you, “Not even a fucking good morning?”

“Good morning,” even through the dark, you could hear the obnoxiously wide smile.

“Yeah, whatever,” you huffed, “Leon and I haven’t been… we aren’t–” you darkened your phone screen so Abbott couldn’t see your expressions, “Complicated.”

“Is he the boyfriend you’ve been having issues with?”

“Are you asking if I’m on the market, or what?” your voice raised a bit above the whisper you were trying to keep it at, “Leon’s not– he’s my–” you growled, “Never you fucking mind.”

What were the two of you?

“Just trying to make conversation.” he mumbled, sounding defeated.

Good. “It’s, like, four in the morning. No one up at this hour wants to make conversation.” you hissed, “Go back to sleep.”

“You aren’t.”

“I’m always up at this hour,” you weren’t. Your internal alarm clock was set to about eight, and that’s when you preferred to roll out of bed, let the dogs out, and make a cup of coffee before heading out to check your animals.

Four was for a completely different version of you. Younger, more life in your eyes, when you were fresh out of high school working at that factory job while you figured out what to do with your life.

Four in the morning was nice, quiet. Decent enough, but still miserable when headed to a job you barely tolerated. Bills didn’t care what time you preferred to wake up.

“And, I’m trying to read,” you finished, making a last ditch attempt at trying to sound civil, “I’d like it if you could be quiet.”

“What are you reading?”

“For fuck’s sake, Xaden,” you gave up and smacked your phone back onto the nightstand beside your bed, “You are unbelievably nosy for someone being paid to associate with me.”

“I’d hang out with you regardless.”

“Because you want to sleep with me,” you flipped back the blankets, letting them bunch by your knees. You sat further up, propping against the pillows, before reaching to flip the bedside lamp on.

Of course he’s fucking shirtless.

Xaden was sitting mirroring your posture, shirtless in his own bed, blankets piled at his hips, hair sticking every-which-way. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the backs of his hands and yawned at you, “I… I’m sorry?” he looked genuinely confused, “That’s… not where I was going with that.”

“So, you ask me about what Leon and I are up to, tell me you’d hang out with me regardless of being paid, and you weren’t going to say you want to sleep with me?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say no to the possibility…” he suddenly flashed a sheepish look, “Uh… that… came out… not the right way I wanted it to…”

“You fuckin’ think?” you turned and planted your feet on the carpet, standing and stretching, making sure your Pikachu pants were situated and tightened on your hipbones before moving [you still tripped on the hems of the legs anyway; they were long pants].

“I was trying to say that I actually do, genuinely, enjoy your company,” his voice floated through the closed bathroom door while you tried your best to pee in peace.

Business finished, hands washed, you reemerged not any happier than when you’d first gone in there, “Weird way of showing it, there, bud,” you fell back onto your bed, “Well, now since both of us are awake – no thanks to you – what are we doing?”

“We?”

You rolled onto your stomach to face him, “Oh, now suddenly you don’t want to hang out?”

“I just…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “You don’t seem to like me all that much.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Your cussing,” he held up a hand and flipped up a finger for each point, “You’ve called me insufferable. Annoying. An irritant – all this has happened in the last, day, also – threatened to leave me at two different gas stations, and to kick me out of the moving vehicle.”

“You’d fucking deserve it,” you snapped, “I don’t like men acting like I’m incapable. I don’t like people nosing in my business unless I know them well enough to let them.”

“Get to know me, then?” he offered, “I try to make small talk, and you shut me out. If this is going to work, we should probably act like we like each other.”

You dropped your head, falling face first into the comforter, “I hate that you’re right.” your voice was distorted. Muffled. And then you raised your head, again, “Fine. I’ll do my best to ignore your flirtatious irritants, and happily answer any of your probing questions.”

“Answer the ones I’ve already asked.”

“Are you gay for Leon or something?” you asked him, “We aren’t… It’s complicated. Why?”

“No, I’m not gay in general,” he brought his legs up, folding them underneath himself as he turned to face you, “You get this… look whenever he’s mentioned. And when he walked into debrief yesterday?” he whistled, “Never seen you so alarmed.”

“I was not.”

“You were. And now you’re avoiding eye contact,” he pointed out.

“Maybe I’m avoiding eye contact because you look like one of my ex’s best friends,” you scowled at him. Different neck tattoos – Weston’s was right in the middle of his throat, a myriad of symmetrical lines in an intricate shape, Abbott’s was a rose underneath his left ear, vining down underneath his collar. Abbott had what – on women – would be called siren eyes. They made him look sharp and predatory– while Weston had “doe eyes”, a softer, kinder appearance. But both had the same black, curly hair twisting underneath their ears.

Weston just usually wetted his before the day started so it sat straighter.

“It’s… unnerving.”

“Sorry to hear,” he made an apologetic shrug, “Not a good guy?”

“I actually preferred him over my actual boyfriend,” you admitted, “Nice guy, totally different guy when he drank, and he drank a lot.”

“Bad habit.”

“Everyone’s got one,” you pinned him with a look, “Enough about me, yeah? More about you.”

“Alright,” he spread his arms, hands open, “Ask away. What do you want to know?”

“Why can’t you ever listen when you’re on assignment?” the question was a bit harsh, yes, but it was a legitimate question, and sitting in front of you instead of on a comm, he couldn’t ignore it.

“I do listen.”

“No, you hear,” you corrected, “And there’s a difference. Words go in one ear, out the other, and then you do whatever the fuck you want anyway.”

“Improvision.”

“Ignoring instructions.”

“Thinking on the fly,” he argued again.

“You do that here, and I’m going to castrate you,” you pointed a threatening finger at him, “Because now it isn’t just your ass on the line, it’s mine, too, and I have something in D.C to go home to. I’d like to get back to it.”

“Kennedy?”

“My animals,” you hissed, “Why does every question lead back to my love life?”

“Rumors at work,” he admitted.

“For the love of–”

“I didn’t start them,” he defended quickly.

“I never said you did,” you snapped, “I get one singular friend at work, heaven for-fucking-bid it’s a man–”

“I hear the two of you spend a lot of time together, is all,” he mentioned, turning so he leaned back against his pillows again. The one lamp in the room threw shadows, making him look more predator-like than when he was facing you, “Lunch breaks, workouts. Recently, you’re carpooling–”

“That’s called a friendship,” you told him, “And the workouts were work-mandated. He’s my trainer, you knew I had an injury, did you not?”

“I did not.”

“Right arm,” you told him, waggling said right arm at him before dropping it back onto the bed beside you, “Leon was tasked with training me to be left-handed and we just… got attached. He’s a good guy, I like his company.”

Amongst other things…

“He’s oddly protective,” Abbott pointed out, his voice quiet. Calm, “Looks at you with more attention than I’ve seen work partners look at one another, and I’ve barely seen the two of you in person, yet.”

“Meaning?”

“Oddly in tune, is all I’m saying,” he shrugged your question off, “I’ve seen partners work together, and if you two were ever on assignment together, I bet it’d be a clean-cut in-and-out type deal.”

“I’ll… take that as a compliment,” you rolled back onto your back and sat up, leaning against the pillows, again, “So, thank you…?”

“Welcome,” he smiled.

“Where’d you hear the rumors?” you asked after a beat of silence.

“Work.”

“Who told you the rumor?” your voice hardened, and you turned your glare on him, “You said you didn’t start them, I want to know who’s gossipping about me behind my back.”

“I’m not saying names.”

“Names as in plural?! Fucking tell me.”

“No,” he repeated, “You’ll go back to them, knock teeth, and they’ll know it was me who told you.”

“If it’s several people saying it, no one would know it was you,” your voice sharpened, still, and you felt like you wanted to knock his teeth.

Too bad you needed him pretty for the mission tonight.

“We’re on assignment,” he stressed back, “They’ll know. I’ve only been transferred here for a few months, and then I’ll be labeled as the guy who can’t keep shit to himself.”

“You obviously can’t–”

“I thought it was common knowledge.”

That stopped your rage short, the feeling dissipating in your chest until you felt oddly hollow, “Oh… It’s… not, Abbott. Because it’s a rumor. We aren’t… together.” I don’t think… 

Honestly, you wanted to be.

You wanted the rumors to be true, to become true. Carpool every day, wake up with Leon and the cats and the dogs all piled in bed. Watch him wrestle your idiotic goats for you and help you hobble to the house after the horse stomps your foot, again.

But–

Every time you brought feelings into anything you wanted long-term, it fell apart and you ended up single again.

“You look like someone just killed your family.”

Your face fixed itself from whatever expression had settled on your face, replacing itself with a flat look of straight annoyance, “Dad’s dead and my mom and I barely talk. I do enjoy my brothers, though… Anyway, it’s nothing.”

“You want to be together, don’t you?” it was a question, but it came out of Xaden’s face like a statement. A painfully obvious observation.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is.”

“You’re stupidly observant, you know that?” you told him, tone almost appreciative, “It’s not bad.”

“It’s why I got transferred,” he beamed, “I also got transferred because of my… inability… to follow simple orders…” he trailed off, “BSAA wanted me gone.”

“You came from the BSAA?”

“I did,” Xaden pushed the blankets off his hips, pajama pants all bunched weirdly up his legs, hanging crooked on his hips as he stood and straightened his pants out, “And now I’m here.”

“Unfortunately for me,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone to start playing a game or something.

Texts showed a couple updates from Mindy and Myra [farm is in working order yet, and Myra wants updates on what’s happening like she can’t get that from anyone at work], but nothing from Leon. It made you frown.

You contemplated texting him, but you didn’t want Xaden to be proven right – if he saw who you were texting, anyway. And you didn’t want Leon thinking you were clingy, unable to get through one weekend without being up his ass about something. It wasn’t even going to be a full weekend; you should be back home by early Sunday morning, as long as no one died or anything.

Hmm…

Me:

I have a joke about pizza and a broken pencil…

…. Too bad it’s cheesy and pointless 😝🤣

The reply was almost instantaneous – it made you wonder if he was hesitating in the chat, too, thinking of something to text.

Goat Wrangler Go-To:

You’re atrocious. It’s five in the morning.

Me:

And yet… you’re awake.

Goat Wrangler Go-To:

Couldn’t sleep.

Me:

Someone annoying chatting your ear off, too?

Goat Wrangler Go-To:

Something like that.

Gotta go. Text later

You hmphed and set your phone back down, laying back down, scrunching your pillows under your head, arms folded underneath it, to see if you could get a couple more hours of sleep before prep arrived.

-

However many hours later, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Must be prep.

Your bed was the closest to the door, and you blindly threw one of your pillows in that direction, “Go away.” the knocks repeated, three sharp raps against the wood – an insult to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. You growled, low in your chest, and removed yourself from underneath your fluffy hotel comforter.

Abbott, from somewhere behind you, mumbled in non-appreciation into his pillows at his early-morning snooze being interrupted as well.

At least you’ll both be well-rested for the party tonight.

Bare feet quiet against the carpet, you ghosted your way to the door, undid the deadbolt and the door lock and pulled the door open, “What–”

And the words were knocked right from your lungs, breath stopping, mouth gaping open. Prep was here, alright, but the three of them were standing behind–

Leon.

Taking up the entire doorframe with his broad shoulders. One hand was on the frame, other hand stuffed into his pants pocket, his expression far too casual for someone who should not be here right now, “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

pt. XXVIII Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[glowwormcentral-deactivated2021]

[lawyer voice] mothers and fuckers of the jury-

[hellenhighwater]

DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I THINK ABOUT THIS POST??? IM IN LAW SCHOOL THIS POST IS GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE

[toontwink]

reblog to ruin a law student’s life

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

oh hello you’ve returned to us

[riddikulus-writings]

Hiii! Do you consider putting your works on ao3?? i personally would love if you did, i think is way better to read longer fics in there, like the leon one, but that's a me thing maybe lol. Anyway, i love Show Me Where It Hurts, it's just a suggestion/question don't feel obligated to do it, i already love it in here! n, xoxo <3

(sorry for any grammar error, english is not my first language lol)

Omg hi!!! Thank you for reading!! I love that you're loving it [and I did not mean for it to get 20-something chapters long either 💀💀😅]

I actually do have an AO3!! It's under the same name, Riddikulus-Writings, and I have not put my Leon one on there yet but i do plan to once it's finished! [Trying to update it on Tumblr is already a pain in my butt sometimes with my wily 10 month old so I'll just dump the whole thing on there when it's done]

I have a couple other fics up on there, two of them are the two I have here and I have an ongoing Mandalorian, and an ongoing Frank Castle one [but Show Me Where It Hurts is my only xReader fic at the moment, the rest are OC]

And I was contemplating continuing my Leon one as it is, but making like a Part 2 type book. If that makes sense? So it would be the same book, just chunked into two separate fics so we aren't scrolling to look for chapter 75 or something 😅😅

Thank you for reading!! And for asking! This made my day 🥰

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

I'm doin' a three-fer update for you whole two readers I have yet, since I went AWOL for a hot sec. Tell me you appreciate the three-fer update. plz. I beg you lol

Warnings; not a whole lot. Leon's plotting. Still. He's making good points, too, just doing a total shit job at disguising why he's making said points. that's about it.

Word count; 1.3k

pt. XXVI

“Oh, hey, Leon.”

“Not now, Viv.” Leon pushed past her, not even bothering to spare her a glance, “I’m busy.”

He could hear the pout in Vivian’s voice as she trailed behind him, “Awe, c’mon, Leon, you’re never too busy for me.”

“I am now,” he stopped after five rows of desks, and turned to actually face her. The woman nearly collided with his chest, “Where’s Griffith?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Vivian trailed a manicured nail down his arm, “What are you doin’ after work today, Leon?”

“Hopefully headed to Colorado,” he huffed, “I need Griffith.” he turned sharply and started down the rows, instead, seeking out Hunnigan – she shouldn’t be on her lunch break, already, since it’s only seven-thirty. He finally found her, feet propped on the edge of her desk, gingerly sipping a coffee, “Ingrid, have you seen Griffith?”

“She stepped out for a second,” Hunnigan set her mug on the desk, dropping her feet back to the floor, “Is there anything I can help you with, Leon? Vivian, leave him alone.”

Leon glanced to the side to see Vivian drop her hand back to her side and hmph in annoyance, “I was only going to pat him on the arm.”

“Go check on your assigned agent,” Hunnigan snapped, “Wouldn’t want you removed off that case, too, would we?” she rolled her eyes when Vivian finally retreated, “She’s like a mosquito.”

“Got that right,” Leon gave a nod of appreciation and squeezed Hunnigan’s shoulder before brushing past, “I’m going to go wait in Griffith’s office. If you see her, send her my way. It’s urgent.”

He didn’t need it, though. She was already in her office, seated the same way Hunnigan was moments ago; kitten heels propped on the edge of the desk, ankles folded, “Kennedy,” she sounded surprised, “You… look like you’ve just been insulted by the entire chain of command.”

“Not yet, no. Give it time,” he stepped inside and pushed the door half shut behind him, “Abbott and Osprey are leaving for the Rockies today, and Miller won’t listen to me.”

“Why should he?”

“You know how reckless Abbott is, ma’am,” Leon reached for the chair across from her, waiting for her to nod that he could take a seat, “And Agent Osprey– this is her first mission since she was injured.”

“And?” Kora Griffith slid her feet back to the floor and propped her elbows on her desk, staring at him with a steely look.

“I’m coming to you to ask if you think it’s a good idea they go out alone,” Leon sat as straight as he could, pressing his folded hands between his knees while he waited for an answer, “They don’t have an FOS from this floor on the case, which I think makes it even worse. Was that a conscious decision?”

She sighed and stood from her desk, moving instead to peer out the window at the city waking below them, “You’re treating Osprey like she’s fragile, Leon. You’ve done your part with training, let her go.”

“I’m treating her like she’s just returned from an injury and hasn’t had a full operational cycle to recalibrate under in-field pressure.”

“This isn’t a shoot-out, Leon,” Griffith turned back to face him, “Abbott make you uncomfortable, too? Going to treat him like he’s fragile?”

“I’m treating Abbott like Abbott, the reckless asshole who never seems to listen to basic commands.”

Her gaze somehow sharpened more, “You didn’t come here to ask a question, did you?”

“I came to you because, with the knowledge I have, I think the current assignment structure increases avoidable risk,” Leon told her, his explanation tumbling from his mouth before he could stop it, “They need an external correction point if something goes sideways, and Miller won’t listen to any explanation I have.”

“You make a good point,” Kora lowered herself back into her desk chair, “Your request was already denied?”

“Absolutely. Tried telling Miller they’ve got a minimal support profile. Too thin, not enough contingency if something slips.”

“Worried about extraction?”

Leon shook his head, “No, I’m worried about everything after the first failure point – if there is one. Abbott is… Abbott. I’ve heard horror stories of what damage he can do, and it’s damage that Osprey won’t be able to control on her own. You’re head of Field Support, you of all people should know the effects of not having enough hands on deck for people who need more practice.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, pinching the space between them, “I’ll raise it. No promises past that.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me, and get off my floor, Kennedy. I don’t want you distracting Callahan.”

“My pleasure,” Leon was halfway out her door, already, “I don’t want me distracting her, either.”

-

Leon’s second stop was quieter. Familiar. Not many keyboards clicking yet this morning.

He suddenly craved a cup of coffee.

Parrish was in the break room, instead of his office, for some reason. Floor leads were supposed to spend their time in their offices – Leon watched him make himself a cup of coffee and go shuffling back into said office. Leon followed, holding his hand up at Myra and Braden as he went past;

Not now.

Parrish didn’t look up from whatever he was reading when Leon’s shadow darkened the doorway. Leon cocked his head to the side, “Sir, is that a crossword puzzle?”

“Word search, actually,” Parrish crossed a line through another found word before setting his pen down, “Come, sit. What brings you here? Osprey leaves in less than an hour, Leon, she isn’t here.”

“I know, sir, but she is… kind of what brings me here,” Leon gladly moved further into the office, sliding into the seat across the desk from Decker, “I would like you to try to talk to Miller about something. For me,” he added, “Something for me.”

“You’re advocating for a staffing adjustment.” he said outright, reading Leon like an open book.

“How did you know that?”

“You don’t usually ask for a whole lot, Leon,” Parrish gave him a knowing smile, “If whatever it is has you this worked up, it’s a staffing call, or someone’s actual life is at risk.”

In this case, it could be both.

“My concern is risk distribution and contingency failures.” he explained simply, knowing full well that Parrish would see an issue – if not for Leon, but for his floor workers’ sakes.

“And Miller not seeing what you see.”

“That too,” Leon agreed, “Not seeing probability curves when nothing in his plan accounts for human variance. Something in my gut just tells me that something on this mission could go wrong.”

Parrish’s expression changed. More curious, more attentive, “Leon, you’re walking a fine line between concern and control right now.”

“I’m not asking you to override him,” Leon explained, waving his hands at Parrish as if to erase something between them, “I don’t believe you can, anyway, about calls made on his own floor. All I’m asking you to make sure is that he sees the gap. I also came to you because I know how swamped you can get when cases get messy, and Abbott – our messiest agent – was just sent out with Osprey, an agent who’s too green right now to be paired with him on a high-stakes case like this.”

“And if I bring it to him and he still says no?”

“Then at least it won’t be because no one raised a concern, and whatever happens is still on him.” he stood and started towards the door.

Parrish’s voice stopped Leon halfway across the office, “This isn’t just about contingencies and paperwork, is it, Leon?”

“Um… no, sir. And I’m leaving it at that.” he left before he could dig himself a deeper grave;

Miller was going to be pissed.

pt. XXVII Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

[riddikulus-writings]

Show Me Where It Hurts

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader {"Agent Osprey"}

I'm doin' a three-fer update for you whole two readers I have yet, since I went AWOL for a hot sec

Warnings; not a whole lot. Leon's plotting, that's about it.

Word count; 2.7k

pt. XXV

Six-twenty-seven in the morning and you were just skirting into the debrief room.

You’d combed out your hair, left it hanging loose, and ditched your pajamas in favor of your tac-pants, a compression shirt and a pair of your boots [and stopped by the bathroom, again, to attempt to clean up. Again.]. You’d even managed a short conversation with Wunrow before darting back into the elevator to repeat-jam at the Warzone floor button.

Because, obviously, hitting the button thirty-seven times makes the lift move faster.

Miller and Abbott were the only other two people in this debrief. You quietly thanked the universe that Griffith wasn’t in here like she sometimes was; that must mean that the two of you aren’t getting an FOS for this, “Mornin’.” you greeted quietly, settling into the seat across the conference table from Abbott.

He was staring at you, “You’re almost late.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You’re never almost late.”

“You don’t know enough about me to deal in absolutes like that, Xaden,” you leaned forward on your elbows, “Mind your own.”

“Alright you two, that’s enough,” Miller finally spoke up from his seat in the corner. When he stood and moved to the seat at the end of the table, directly to your left, he finally got a good look at your face, catalogued how you looked and visibly flinched, “Agent, your nose–”

“Warzone spat,” you offered a sheepish smile, “Knight decided to start some shit. I finished it, but my nose and my throat took a bit of a beating. Agent Kennedy fixed my nose fast enough where it shouldn’t bruise too bad.”

Miller only blinked at you in disbelief before shaking his head, “Of all the agents getting into the Warzone trouble, you were last on my list.”

“My apologies, sir,” you smiled wide, this time, “Happens to the best of us.”

“That it does,” he amended, “Now. The two of you are invited to the Aurelia Hotel in the Rockies on Saturday evening. Shawna Wright is going to be there, you need to gain intel. Get as close to her as you can, learn her ins and outs. Compound locations, dealers – buyers is what we’re looking for, on top of what exactly it is she’s engineering. Any and all information gained gets us closer to eradicating whatever she’s been cooking up, and as long as she’s in the States, we can get agents out in Europe to act.”

“Roger,” Abbott nodded, leaving over the files now strewn over the tabletop, “Infiltration method?”

“You’re going in as a couple.”

Dead silence. So silent, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the next conference room over. You and Xaden stared at each other from across the table for a beat before you cocked your head towards Miller, “Come again?”

Abbott at least had the decency to look mildly alarmed, “Sir?”

“Cleanest access, most believable. No one invites single people to a high-value event like this,” Miller explained, his tone flat, “High society. No one questions couples – everyone questions singles. Stay close to one another, work your way further in, find Shawna, stay on the radar long enough to gather intel but short enough to get back out.”

“Respectfully, sir,” Abbott leaned back in his seat, sweat suddenly beading underneath his hairline, “Wouldn’t a more experienced pair of agents be more believable? Two established agents with a documented cover history–”

“No.” Miller cut him off, “The two of you have been chosen because of Osprey’s history of recon missions, and her affinity for being able to keep you in check, Xaden. You’ve been chosen because you need the practice, it’s an easy assignment, and the two of you are close enough in age that no one will question it.”

“What? I can’t wander around on the arm of a sugar daddy?” you asked sarcastically.

“Not now, Agent,” Miller fixed you with a warning look that shut you up immediately.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, fishing for something to argue, “Sir, I’m out of practice–”

“This is an easy assignment,” he reiterated, “And a good way to ease you back into the field ops you’re used to as of late,” Miller gently patted your wrist, “A few undercovers and you’ll be back to gunfights in no time.” he fixed his focus back on the filing in front of the three of you, “Cover identity; long term on-and-off again. Mutual contacts drew you together, recently reconciled before Oz, here, got invited and decided to bring you out.”

“Reconciled?” Abbott asked.

“You argue less convincingly if you’re strangers,” Miller flatlined, “I know the two of you barely get along. Argue all you want, I’ve heard from Parrish that the two of you argue like an old married couple, anyway.”

“Noted.” you muttered.

“So, establish behavioural consistency,” Abbott began, “Shared history, physical proximity, verbal patterns–”

You cut him off, “I know your verbal patterns pretty decent, already. You get this stupid lilt in your tone when you’re about to say some offhand comment that doesn’t need saying.”

“Stupid?” his tone was incredulous, “I do not.”

“You do, though,” you explained, narrowing your eyes at him, “You drop the timbre of your voice, trying to sound sexy. Newsflash, it’s only sexy if the other person’s into it, and I’m not into you.”

“Yeah, from the word around Warzone,” Abbott snapped, “You and Kennedy are pretty well into each other lately. Not surprised, since I heard you–”

“My fucking bedroom habits are none of your concern, Xaden,” you were halfway out of your seat, “I already kicked Knight’s ass for assuming the same shit, you want me to do the same to you?”

“That’s enough,” Miller smacked his open palm on the tabletop, “Both of you, knock it off. Xaden, don’t antagonize her because she will beat you up. Osprey, control your emotions. You’re better than that.”

“That I am,” you agreed, settling back into your seat, “So, we’re a couple that barely tolerates each other half the time. Sounds like we have everything pretty down pat, Sir.”

“As long as you don’t draw blood on him,” Miller added, shuffling the filing back into the folder, “You’ll be watched. Not closely, but enough. Shawna’s inner circle likes to test people – forced separation, social probing. Stay in character.”

“Understood,” the two of you nodded once, and spoke at the same time. 

And then both your mouths snapped shut, deep scowls etching your features at the same time. It was almost comical at the mirroring. Miller snorted, “Perfect. Keep that synchronization.”

You tapped the edge of the tabletop, oozing to your feet once more, your chair legs scraping the carpeting, “What’s the plan if something goes sideways?”

“Don’t let it.”

“And if it does?” you prodded, “I like to be prepared.”

Miller hesitated, which wasn’t a good sign, “You’ll have a vehicle at the hotel. If someone gets compromised, or if you even think one of you has been, leave as quickly as you can. Agent, do not improvise unless absolutely necessary. The Wright family is smarter than we give them credit for. Old ties, deep into Umbrella. They know more than they let on.”

“Improvise if necessary, understood, Sir.”

“Agent, that is not what I said.”

“I know it’s what you meant, Sir.” you smiled, holding your hand out for the manilla folder in his fingertips. The way he placed it into your hand reminded you of how many folders you’d placed in Leon’s hand in the same fashion over the last few months.

Abbott was across the table, watching the two of you interact like he was trying to decide if this was normal behaviour.

Unfortunately, it was.

“Final note, you two,” Miller started again, pausing at the door, “Don’t get distracted.”

“Distracted?” Abbott was standing, almost side by side with you, now.

“And don’t make it harder than it needs to be,” Miller finished, resting his hand on the door handle. His gaze was focused directly on you when he said it.

“Me?” you asked.

Miller didn’t answer.

Which, in itself, was still an answer; watch your temper. 

You and Abbott studied each other, and you sighed, “Fake a relationship to blend into a room full of predators that probably buy people and engineer bioweapons we know nothing about. Don’t be taking any food or drink from anyone, understood?”

He nodded back at you, “Try not to fall in love with me, it’ll complicate things.”

“Say something like that again,” you leaned into his space, your voice low and sharp, “And I’ll knock your pretty teeth right out your face, Abbott. And,” you stood straight again, exhaling short and sharp though your nose, “Same for you, anyway. Don’t fall in love with me.”

Abbott didn’t move back fast enough for your liking, “I was already planning on not doing that,” he mumbled.

“Smart man,” you flashed a forced grin at him, “You couldn’t handle me.”

“That’s enough, you two,” Miller chided, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The two of you will do good. Send out in an hour. Meet in the lobby, head to the airport. You’ll be on standby until tomorrow mid-morning when a couple people will be by to make you presentable for the gala.”

“Can I not be trusted to dress myself?” you asked.

“No, Osprey, you can’t,” Miller told you, not even bothering to sugarcoat it, “I’ve seen how you dress.”

“Hey!” you faked offence, a hand pressing to your chest, “I can look hot when I want.”

Miller was shaking his head at you, visibly fighting a smile. He finally pulled open the door and gave a start, seeing the wall of man blocking the doorway, “Agent Kennedy! Do you need something?”

“Just wondering if you were finished with their debrief yet,” Leon smiled warmly at his boss, standing too still, too composed – like he’d been waiting there the entire time. “If you are, I’d like to have a word. Otherwise, I can wait, yet.” he scanned the room as he usually does [habit of a field agent] before his eyes settled on you.

“No, uh, we were finished here, Leon, come on in,” Miller stepped aside for Leon to come into the conference room. Immediately, the room felt smaller. You noticed Abbott straightened up his posture. Miller continued, “They leave in an hour,” as if reminding the two of you, his eyes moved to where you and Abbott were still rooted to the carpet, “That means they should start moving.”

You forced your eyes off Leon, taking a deep shuddering breath, “Yeah, uh. Right. Got it, bye Miller. See you later, Leon.”

Miller swung the door back shut behind you and Abbott before moving to sit back in his chair. The atmosphere of the room shifted; still quiet. Not tense, but not comfortable either. Leon could tell that Miller knew something was bothering him, “What’s the issue, Leon?”

Leon stayed on his feet, opting instead to lean his hands on the edge of the table. His whole body was tense, “I want in on their assignment.”

Miller leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his abdomen, “No.”

“That wasn’t much of a discussion,” Leon deadpanned.

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” Miller echoed, “You’re asking to be added into a closed operation that’s already been debriefed and assigned to the needed agents.”

“I can overwatch.”

“You already are.” Miller told him, noting the tension in his grip on the table’s edge, “From here. Not there.”

“From a distance,” Leon added quickly, his jaw ticking. He straightened, folding his arms across his chest, instead, hooking his thumbs in the straps of his pistol holster, “There. Not here.”

“That would be the point,” Miller noted, “A throuple would draw too much attention to you.”

“That’s not–” Leon sighed, dropping his hands to hook his thumbs in his beltloops. A second later and he was back to gripping the table, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore, “Miller, they’re both unseasoned.”

“Osprey is anything but,” Miller corrected, “Leon, want to explain to me why you’re actually worried?”

Leon clenched his teeth, finding more problems than solutions during this conversation. Eventually, Leon sighed and pulled out the chair you previously occupied, “It escalated.”

“Come again?”

“You told me that whether whatever was going on with me and Oz escalated or ended, that you needed to know about it. And, it escalated. It’s been escalating for a while, I just didn’t want to admit it,” Leon saw Miller about to open his mouth, but kept talking over whatever he was going to say, “That’s not why I’m asking to be assigned as overwatch. They’re unseasoned, I’ve seen the damage Abbott can do as a rookie and Agent Osprey is good but she’s almost as unseasoned as he is, having been out of the field as long as she has.”

“And you’re worried that one of them will slip up.”

“And cause issues,” Leon concluded, “You’re sending them into high-contact social infil with known behavioural predators. Those people are smart, and any slip up from either agent would make them a test-dummy target for whatever plan they’re devising.”

“You think I don’t trust her to oversee Abbott.” Miller’s accusation came out as a blunt statement. 

“I never said that,” Leon defended, mirroring Miller’s relaxed posture, “I just think you’re underestimating variables, Sir.”

“Which ones?”

Leon let the silence stretch between the two of them for a second too long, “The target. Shawna.” he said, finally, but it landed crooked. Like a rolled ankle.

Miller noticed – of course he noticed, “Try again, Kennedy.”

“Ozzy?”

“That your official answer? You think I underestimate one of my best agents?”

“No.” Leon sighed. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, anymore. Wherever it was headed, he didn’t like it. Whenever he had to speak to Miller one-on-one like this, he felt like his superior could look right through him.

Miller made a noise – not amused, but not surprised, “You’re not going. And you’re not pulling rank on this, either, Leon.”

“Sir–”

“You are not pulling rank on this,” Miller repeated, punctuating each word with finality as he stood from his seat.

“I’m not comfortable with it.”

Miller stood and came around the corner of the table, “Fortunately, your comfort level isn’t a part of my threat assessment for this mission.”

“I can keep them alive.”

“So can they.”

“Miller–” Leon stood so fast that the chair almost tipped. He cleared his throat at Miller’s sudden expression, “Sir.” he corrected quickly, “I think it would be in your best interest to add on-sight overwatch to their assignment.”

“She’s good at this. Better than you’re currently giving her credit for,” Miller told him, his voice softer than before. He rested a reassuring hand on Leon’s shoulder, “Abbott will do good under her lead. Your concern isn’t imperative to my decision making on this.”

Silence between the two of them stretched on. Leon wasn’t sure what to say – looking for any other angle he could give Miller to make Leon’s worry out for something other than what it really was – and Miller was giving him the space to say something. Eventually, Miller gave Leon’s shoulder a squeeze and dropped his hand, “This isn’t the first time you’ve disagreed with an assignment.”

“No, sir.”

“But, it’s the first time you’ve demanded to be physically inserted into one.” Miller paused, studying Leon’s face, “You’ve never felt the need to not trust other agents. I know you’re not really asking because the operation needs you, Leon.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“That’s the first dishonest thing, I think, you’ve ever said to me,” Miller raised an eyebrow at Leon, “If I didn’t think either of them could handle this mission, I’d pull them. You know this.”

“I do.”

“If I thought Abbott would compromise her, I’d pull him. And vice versa.”

Leon nodded in silent agreement and drew in a long, slow breath, turning his eyes to his boots, “Yes, sir.”

“Trust my judgement, Kennedy, and quit worrying. Now, go find something to keep yourself busy before I find you something to keep you busy.”

Leon nodded again, following Miller to the door, the plan he had in his head earlier already nudging to the front of his mind, “Yes, sir.”

pt. XXVI Series Masterlist Main Masterlist