S.T.A.R.S
Authors note: This is my first time ever writing on tumblr so bare with me guys… This is basically just a test for something bigger and definitely better that I wanna write in the future and I just need proof of concept that people might actually enjoy it? So have a GN reader bully Leon and Jill helping him out.
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Leon had only been at the station for a couple of weeks, and already he felt like he’d been there for years.
Not because the job was boring—far from it. Every day something new seemed to happen somewhere in the city. But none of it ever reached him. Not really. While other officers came and went with stories about patrols, arrests, and strange calls, Leon spent most of his time buried under stacks of paperwork or being sent off on errands his training officer deemed “good experience.”
In other words: rookie work.
Still, he didn’t mind it too much. He’d worked hard to get here. The academy had been rough, the training tougher than he’d expected, but the moment he’d stepped into the Raccoon City Police Department wearing that uniform, something in him had settled. This was where he wanted to be.
Even if he was currently filing reports about stolen bicycles.
Leaning over his desk, Leon scribbled the last few notes onto a form before stacking it neatly with the rest. Around him, the bullpen buzzed with the low hum of phones ringing, officers chatting between calls, and the occasional clatter of a coffee mug being set down too hard.
Someone nearby was laughing about a story Leon had clearly missed.
Across the room, two detectives were arguing over a map spread across their desk.
Leon glanced up for a moment, watching it all with quiet curiosity. He still felt like the new kid at school sometimes—present, but not quite part of everything yet.
And then there were the rumors.
He’d heard them almost immediately after arriving.
Stories about the elite unit the department worked with. The ones called in when situations got dangerous. The ones who supposedly handled cases regular officers couldn’t.
S.T.A.R.S.
Special Tactics and Rescue Service.
Some people talked about them with admiration. Others with a sort of cautious respect, like the unit operated on an entirely different level than the rest of the department.
Their office was in another wing of the station, and rookies like him didn’t exactly have business wandering over there.
Which meant S.T.A.R.S. remained more of a legend than anything else.
“Kennedy.”
The sharp call of his name cut cleanly through his thoughts.
Leon startled, nearly knocking over the pen in his hand.
“Yes— ma’am?”
He pushed back from his chair and hurried across the room toward his training officer, trying to compose himself along the way. His movements were a little too quick, a little too eager—like he was constantly worried about doing something wrong.
When he stopped beside her desk, he stood straight, hands loosely at his sides.
Leon had a naturally soft expression, something people had pointed out even back in training. His features weren’t hardened or stern the way people expected from a police officer. If anything, his wide eyes and earnest demeanor gave him an almost disarmingly gentle look.
Puppy-dog eyes, one instructor had joked once.
Not exactly intimidating.
But the kid had passed every test they’d thrown at him, and that counted for something.
His training officer held out a small yellow folder toward him without ceremony.
“I need you to take this to the S.T.A.R.S. office,” she said. “It’s paperwork for Captain Wesker about a recent call that might need their expertise.”
Leon accepted the folder automatically.
Then froze.
He looked down at it like it had suddenly become a live grenade sitting in his hands.
He had to go… where?
For a moment he just stared at the bright yellow cover, his brain trying to process what she’d said.
The S.T.A.R.S. office.
The one place in the station he’d only heard about through rumors and half-finished stories.
“You do know where the S.T.A.R.S. office is, right?” she said flatly.
Leon blinked, looking up.
Her expression had already shifted into the familiar look of mild irritation she reserved specifically for Rookies like him.
“Special Tactics and Rescue Service,” she continued, speaking slowly like she was repeating directions to someone hopeless. “West wing. By the library.”
Before Leon could respond, she pushed the folder more firmly into his hands.
“Take it to Captain Wesker.”
She turned back toward the reports on her desk, already dismissing him with a small flick of her hand.
“And go before Alpha and Bravo teams switch shifts.”
The agitation in her voice made it clear she didn’t feel like explaining anything else.
Leon straightened immediately.
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
His voice came out a little too fast—maybe a little too high, too. That tended to happen whenever he spoke to her. For some reason, she stressed him out more than any training drill ever had.
Clutching the folder carefully against his chest, Leon turned and hurried off across the bullpen before she could give him another task.
As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced down at the folder again.
A few minutes later, Leon found himself hurrying down the long hallways of the west wing, his footsteps echoing faintly against the polished tile floors.
He hadn’t meant to start walking so fast.
But the thought of keeping his training officer waiting—or worse, showing up late to the S.T.A.R.S. office—had his nerves working overtime. What started as a brisk walk quickly turned into something closer to a jog, the yellow folder clutched carefully under his arm.
The west wing was quieter than the rest of the station. Fewer officers passed through here, and the usual bullpen noise faded into distant murmurs the farther he went. The lighting seemed dimmer too, softer somehow, casting long reflections across the clean floors.
Leon slowed as he passed the station library, glancing at the sign mounted beside the door.
Which meant…
He looked a little farther down the hall.
There it was.
The S.T.A.R.S. office.
The door itself didn’t look particularly special—just another office door in a building full of them—but the bold lettering on the frosted glass made his stomach tighten anyway.
S.T.A.R.S.
Special Tactics and Rescue Service.
The unit he’d only heard about in stories until now.
Leon came to a stop in front of the door, suddenly realizing how fast he’d been moving. His breathing had picked up from the near run, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees while he took a few deep breaths.
He straightened again after a moment, brushing his hands down the front of his uniform in an attempt to smooth out wrinkles that probably weren’t even there.
His heart was still pounding.
Leon shifted the yellow folder in his hands and stared at the door for a second longer.
He’d heard so many things about the S.T.A.R.S. captain since arriving at the station.
Leon wondered what he’d be like.
Strict, probably. The type who expected absolute professionalism from everyone around him. Maybe the kind of commanding officer who could silence an entire room just by stepping inside.
Leon wiped his slightly sweaty palms against his uniform pants.
What if he messed this up somehow? What if he was supposed to say something specific when handing over the file?
His mind started spinning again.
Maybe Wesker had dark hair. Maybe he looked like one of those hardened military types Leon had seen in old war documentaries—sharp eyes, permanent scowl, the kind of presence that made people stand a little straighter without even realizing it.
Leon reached up and knocked on the door before he could overthink it any further.
Three quick taps.
The silence that followed stretched just long enough for his anxiety to creep back in.
His heart thumped steadily in his chest as he stared at the frosted glass panel, half-expecting the door to open and reveal the intimidating captain he’d imagined in his head.
But when the handle finally turned and the door swung open—
The air left Leon’s lungs entirely.
The officer standing in the doorway looked nothing like the stern military commander Leon had pictured.
They stood there with their arms crossed loosely over a heavy tactical vest, posture relaxed but alert at the same time, like someone used to assessing a situation the moment it appeared in front of them.
Their expression was unimpressed.
Not hostile exactly—just the sort of look someone gave when they’d already decided whatever was happening probably wasn’t worth their time.
But Leon barely noticed any of that.
What caught him immediately were their eyes.
They were… ridiculously beautiful.
Bright and sharp in a way that made them impossible to ignore. The kind of eyes someone could get lost staring into if they weren’t careful.
For a brief, embarrassing second, Leon completely forgot why he was standing there.
The officer simply looked down at him from the doorway, one eyebrow lifting slightly as the silence stretched between them.
And Leon stood there, wide-eyed and frozen, like his brain had suddenly short-circuited.
“U-um…” Leon stammered.
The sound barely made it past his throat.
Heat rushed instantly to his face, bright and undeniable, and his gaze flickered anywhere but the officer standing in front of him. The hallway floor. The edge of the doorframe. The patch on their vest. Anywhere except those eyes.
“A-are you Captain Wesker?”
For a brief moment, the officer simply stared at him.
Then their expression cracked.
A sharp bark of laughter escaped them before they could stop it, their shoulders shaking as the amusement hit full force. They leaned back slightly in the doorway, one hand bracing against the frame as the laughter spilled out.
The sound carried easily into the office behind them.
“Guys!” they called over their shoulder between laughs. “You gotta hear this—this rookie just asked if I was Wesker!”
They pointed straight at Leon like he was the punchline.
Several heads turned almost immediately.
Chairs creaked. Papers rustled. Someone near the back of the room let out a low whistle while another snorted loudly.
A ripple of chuckles moved through the S.T.A.R.S. office.
Leon stood frozen in the doorway.
His face felt like it was on fire.
The yellow folder in his hands had suddenly become the most important object in the world, his fingers gripping it tightly like it was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the floor.
This was the worst moment of his career.
And he’d only been here a couple of weeks.
Inside the office, a chair scraped sharply across the floor.
A woman stood up from one of the desks toward the back, already shaking her head as if she’d seen this exact situation play out a hundred times before.
She moved toward the door with calm, purposeful steps, boots tapping softly against the tile floor. Her uniform was crisp and neat, a blue beret sitting snugly atop her dark hair.
The name stitched neatly across her uniform read:
Jill Valentine.
She stopped beside the doorway and shot the laughing officer a flat, unimpressed look.
“Leave him alone, ____,” she huffed.
That only seemed to make the officer laugh harder.
Jill let out a quiet sigh, clearly deciding the situation wasn’t worth arguing over.
Instead, she turned her attention to Leon.
Her eyes flicked over him quickly—taking in the flushed face, the nervous posture, the way he was clutching the folder like it might suddenly sprout legs and run away.
Something in her expression softened just a little.
“C’mon,” she said, tilting her head toward the inside of the office. “His office is right here.”
Then she glanced back toward the room with faint exasperation.
“Sorry about them,” she added under her breath. “They’re just a dick.”
Leon blinked, still processing everything as he stepped awkwardly inside.
As he passed through the doorway, Jill gently nudged the laughing officer aside with her shoulder, pushing them just enough to clear the entrance.
Behind them, the officer finally peeled away from the door, still grinning to themselves.
They wandered back toward their desk like someone returning from the best entertainment they’d had all day.
The chair creaked as they dropped into it beside a broad-shouldered man wearing a bright yellow tactical vest.
The two immediately leaned toward each other, whispering animatedly. Every few seconds one of them would glance over at Leon and snicker again like they were replaying the moment in their heads.
she led Leon a few steps down the hall toward a closed office door and gave a quick knock against the wood.
“Captain,” she called through the door.
Her tone was casual, like she’d done this a thousand times before.
She glanced back at Leon and gave him a small, reassuring nod, as if silently telling him don’t worry about it.
The door opened.
Leon stepped into the office carefully, almost cautiously, like he had just crossed into enemy territory.
The room itself was neat to the point of being sterile. Files stacked in precise order. Papers aligned perfectly on the desk. Not a single object seemed out of place.
Behind the desk sat the man Leon had heard so much about.
And immediately, Leon understood why people spoke about him the way they did.
The man barely moved, yet his presence seemed to dominate the entire room.
Blonde hair was swept neatly back, every strand in place. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes—even though they were indoors—and his posture was rigid, controlled, almost unnaturally precise.
Leon swallowed.
God… he was terrifying to look at.
He finally lifted his head from the paperwork in front of him.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “Officer Ramirez sent you?”
There was an odd sharpness to his accent—clipped, deliberate—that cut cleanly through the otherwise flat tone of his voice.
Leon blinked.
And suddenly it all clicked.
Now he definitely understood why the other officer had laughed.
They were nothing alike.
Not even close.
That officer at the door had been… effortless. Striking in a way that made Leon’s brain short-circuit the moment he looked at them. The kind of person whose eyes you could stare into for far longer than you meant to.
But Wesker?
Wesker was something else entirely.
Intimidating. Cold. The kind of man who looked like he could take someone apart psychologically without ever raising his voice.
Leon straightened immediately.
“Yes, Captain Wesker!” he said quickly, stepping forward and offering the folder with both hands. “I don’t know much about the case myself so I can’t really give a brief, but I know it’s important you look over it—”
“Dismissed.”
The single word cut straight through Leon’s sentence like a blade.
Leon froze mid-breath.
For a moment he just stood there, unsure if he’d heard correctly.
Before he could even attempt to finish what he’d been saying—or ask if he should stay—he felt a hand settle firmly on his shoulder.
Jill had already stepped forward.
“Alright, rookie, that’s enough,” she said casually, steering him back toward the door before he could embarrass himself further.
Leon barely had time to react before he was gently but firmly guided out of the office.
The door shut behind them with a quiet click.
Jill let out a soft sigh, rolling her shoulders a little.
“He’s not much of a talker,” she said with a small shrug. “Ex-military, y’know?”
She gave Leon a quick sideways glance, clearly trying to smooth over the awkwardness of the entire interaction.
“My name’s Jill, by the way,” she said, offering a small shrug. “Sorry about the… shitty introduction.”
Leon shifted his weight slightly, still feeling like he’d just survived some kind of social disaster.
“Leon,” he replied a little awkwardly. “Leon Kennedy.”
But even as he said it, his attention had already started to drift.
It wasn’t intentional.
His eyes simply wandered past Jill’s shoulder, back toward the main S.T.A.R.S. office.
And immediately landed on the officer who had laughed at him earlier.
They were back at their desk now, leaning comfortably in their chair beside a broad-shouldered man wearing a bright yellow tactical vest. The two of them were deep in conversation, heads tilted toward each other while one of them gestured animatedly about something.
Leon felt heat rush up the back of his neck immediately.
His face flushed a deep red.
But this time… it wasn’t entirely from embarrassment.
Jill noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She followed the direction of his gaze for a moment, her eyes landing on the pair at the desk.
Then she slowly turned back to Leon.
“Seriously, rookie?” she snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.
Leon nearly jumped out of his skin.
“I—what—no—I wasn’t—”
Jill raised a hand, cutting him off before he could dig himself any deeper.
“Relax,” she said between quiet chuckles. “I’m not judging.”
She jerked her thumb back toward the hallway behind him.
“Go on. Your training officer probably needs you for something.”
Leon hesitated a moment longer, still flustered beyond belief.
Still shaking her head with quiet amusement, she turned and walked back into the S.T.A.R.S. office toward her desk.
Leon remained where he stood for another second, staring after her. Then he quickly turned and retreated down the hallway, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in his face.
And yet, He couldn’t help but think of their beautiful eyes.
