SYNOPSIS: how would leon help his partner when they’re on their period?
CONTENTS: gn!reader, periods (anything having to do with symptoms is based on my own experiences!), all fluff, no outbreak
DECOR CREDITS: all photos from pinterest (leon’s pic is from user lesbianada), divider by @saradika-graphics
AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy 2026! i’m currently suffering on my period so here’s a quick, very self-indulgent headcanon list i made to cope with the pain. to be honest, i had such a hard time deciding which leon to pair these headcanons with; one minute i want rookie leon and the next i want dilf leon (and both together as well… the mood swings were swinging!). i ultimately chose rookie leon but i feel that most of these can fit with any version 🥹
Boyfriend!Leon who takes no issue with going to the store and retrieving the products you need. When he’s tasked with this for the first time, he’s confused (and intrigued) by the variety of options offered. However, as he learns about your cycle, he’s able to easily pick out the products that best suit your needs.
Boyfriend!Leon who’s very understanding of your mood shifts. He gives you grace when you’re irritable, hugs when you’re sad, reassurances when you’re feeling inadequate, and space when you want to be left alone.
Boyfriend!Leon who carries extra products in the glovebox of his car, staying prepared for spontaneous arrivals and emergencies.
Boyfriend!Leon who’s quick to help you clean up if you bleed through your clothes. He reminds you that it’s nothing to feel embarrassed about—sometimes accidents happen and that’s completely okay.
Boyfriend!Leon who becomes your big spoon when laying in bed together. His arms wrap around your waist, with his hands dipping underneath your shirt to massage your cramps away.
Boyfriend!Leon who ensures you eat something despite your loss of appetite. In addition to stocking up on your favorite snacks and sweets, he’ll do his best to prepare foods that are nutritious and easy to eat.
Boyfriend!Leon who graciously offers up his hoodies whenever you’re freezing. The sight of you in one of them makes him quietly swoon; you look absolutely beautiful in his eyes.
Boyfriend!Leon who conducts his own research on the menstrual cycle. He reads up on everything: the four major phases, hormonal changes, physiological symptoms, etc. He’s interested in learning because the more he knows, the better he’s able to help you.
dis meh perst leon head soo idk what to tell ya dont snitch to my gf its pre-raccoon city timeline lol
Leon definitely didn't plan on getting married this young, but he fell hard and fast. Once he realized he loved you, there was just no going back.
You two share a small, slightly cramped apartment near the station. He insisted on paying most of the rent, even when you offered to split it.
He leaves little sticky notes everywhere like "don't forget to eat" or "love you, be safe" He worries about u even when there's nothing to worry about all the time.
He tries to make breakfast... and burns it at least once a weak. Still serves it proudly to u like he's a 5 star chef tho.
He apologizes a lot for late shifts or coming home exhausted to u even when u keep telling him it's fine.
He tells u lots of stories about the academy and what he did there. Every time, they're like intense action scenes but really its just half of them tripping during drills lol
You hear loads of "when I make detective..." from him cuz of how much his colleagues piss and stress him out.
He tries practicing handcuff techniques on u (very gently tho) and gets flustered halfway through.
Sometimes he falls asleep on the couch in uniform and u have to wake him up so he can sleep properly without his back hurting on ur bed with him.
Veeeeery shy about PDA in public, but at home he's very affectionate. Lots of forehead kisses, back hugs, and holding your hand while walking past.
He forgets tons of stuff at home, but he rarely ever forgets anything you've said to him.
If you're stressed from work, he tries giving u "cop advice" even when it doesn't rlly apply.
He still gets embarrassed sometimes when you compliment him especially if u call him heroic.
Some days, he just randomly says "I don't know what I did to deserve you" and means it every time. U always tell him he doesn't need to deserve u cuz u luv him.
He insists on picking you up after late outings even if it's out of his way. He knows u can handle yourself if something were to ever happen, but he wants it just because.
Grocery shopping together equals him sneaking extra snacks into the cart as best as he can without you finding out about it. U still catch him doing it every time tho.
Bless him, he always tries to fix things around the apartment but he just sometimes make them worse than before.
Sunday nights are quiet. Usually just you guys grabbing takeout after a date somewhere, watching TV at home, and him half asleep with his head on ur shoulder.
After long shifts, he'd rather stay in than go out because his social battery is drained and gone.
He worries he's not "enough" yet a lot since he's still new, still learning, and trying to prove himself.
You're the (only) person he vents to about tough calls or some frustrating superiors at work.
If he promises he'll be home early, he genuinely tries. He's protective but not to the point of being controlling. Texts you loads of "text me when you get there" and etc.
When he's stressed, he just holds you a little tighter some days without saying anything.
Leon's a light sleeper. He wakes up if you move too much. He tends to wrap an arm around you in his sleep a lot.
If he has an early shift, he tries not to wake up... but ends up making some noise and waking u up anyway. Tells u to go back to sleep every time which u dont do.
Sometimes when u seem restless, he'll just mumble little reassurances to u half asleep.
He fights a smile every time somebody calls him your husband. Looks at you every day as if he can't believe you chose him of all people.
SYNOPSIS: what would leon do to help support his medical student partner?
CONTENTS: gn!reader, all fluff (one hc could be considered a bit suggestive but i think it’s fine, another hc also alludes to skipping meals), no outbreak
DECOR CREDITS: all pictures from pinterest, divider by @enjinsprettydoll
AUTHOR’S NOTE: so fun fact about me, i’m a premed student who’s studying family health! i’m on my last semester of undergrad and my schedule has been PACKED with classes/work (send help). recently, i’ve thinking about my future a lot more, so i wrote up this list with the hope that these things will one day come true 😌
Boyfriend!Leon who holds you close and whispers words of affirmation on the days where imposter syndrome spirals into bouts of self-deprecation.
Boyfriend!Leon who becomes your personal anatomy model upon request. As he sits shirtless against the headboard, you’re straddling his lap, meticulously marking up his body with a surgical marker.
Boyfriend!Leon who tries to take on cooking to make certain you don’t starve, especially during moments when eating feels more like an afterthought. The meals he prepares aren’t fancy, but they are always made with love and care.
Boyfriend!Leon who backs off when you’re in the midst of an intense study session. He does his best to minimize distractions that are present, and when he does enter your space, he’s often checking up on you or wordlessly bringing you treats.
Boyfriend!Leon who helps you take care of the more tedious household chores (e.g.: yardwork, folding laundry, making the bed) without needing to be asked.
Boyfriend!Leon who treats you to a night out after major assessments. Regardless of uncertainties towards the results, he wants to use the night to celebrate and remind you of how brilliant you truly are.
Boyfriend!Leon who listens with fascination whenever you ramble to him about the day’s experiences. He never takes these moments for granted, finding it to be a privilege to be able to know you so deeply and learn more everyday about your world.
Boyfriend!Leon who never guilts you for prioritizing medical school over your relationship with him. Medical school is all-consuming, but despite that, he vows to stick by your side throughout all of the success and failures.
Synopsis: Turns out, giving your boyfriend a key to your apartment may have its perks, but it also has its risks, like mistaking him for an intruder [GIF Creds: entreri]
WC: 2464
Category: Domestic Fluff, Rookie!Leon, Established Relationship, Misunderstandings, Alternate Universe {TW: Accidental Injury, Punching, Minor Violence}
I don't know why fluff is the hardest genre for me to write, but I finally had enough brain power to make this. I really do just LIVE for the drama 😭
『••✎••』
The apartment door creaked open just a little too quietly for your liking.
You'd had the kind of day that made you want to crawl under a blanket and forget the world existed—late buses, spilled coffee, a client who wouldn't stop yelling over the phone. All you wanted was your couch, maybe a hot shower, and the vague hope that tomorrow would be kinder.
But the moment you stepped inside, something felt off.
The deadbolt wasn't locked. You always locked it, even when you were just running to the mailbox. Then there was the lamp—the one by your entryway, usually a warm, welcoming beacon. You flipped the switch, and nothing happened, leaving you in the dim glow of streetlights filtering through your window. Not to mention the strange, lumpy shapes on your kitchen counter, casting unfamiliar shadows across your living room floor.
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Every late-night horror movie you'd ever watched with Leon came rushing back. Don't go in there. Why would you investigate the strange noise?
But this was your home. Your space.
You crept forward, your footsteps silent on the rug. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the baseball bat you kept propped by the coatrack—Leon's idea, a gift after you'd mentioned a break-in down the street. Now, it felt like the only solid thing in a world suddenly made of shadows.
From the back of the apartment, you heard a faint rustling, then footsteps returning.
A figure emerged from the darkness of the hallway, backlit by the weak light from your bedroom. Tall, familiar build, but in this dim, unfamiliar context, he was just a silhouette—an intruder. He was tossing something small and round in one hand, a smirk playing on what you could make out of his face.
That was it. That was the trigger.
Adrenaline surged through you, hot and immediate. With a grunt that was equal parts terror and fury, you swung the bat. It cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh, aimed directly at the shadow's head.
He moved with a speed that was almost insulting. A swift lean back, the bat whistling past his nose by millimeters. A small gasp from him as whatever he'd been holding—a lightbulb, you realized—slipped from his grasp and shattered on the hardwood floor.
But he was ready. His other hand shot out, catching the aluminum barrel of your bat before you could pull it back for another swing. His grip was iron, warm through the metal. Before you could process, before he could even open his mouth to speak, your body acted on pure instinct.
Your fist, balled tight with all the frustration of the day, shot forward and connected squarely with his jaw.
The impact vibrated up your arm. He stumbled back a step, his grip on the bat loosening in shock. The kitchen light flickered on, spilling yellow light over everything, illuminating the takeout bags on the counter, the DVD case on the coffee table, and the stranger in your living room who was suddenly, horribly, not a stranger at all.
Leon stood there, one hand still wrapped around the bat, the other flying to his face. His blue eyes, usually so warm and teasing, were wide with shock and something that looked a lot like hurt. A red mark was already blooming on his jaw.
"It's me," he finally managed to say, his voice a little shaky. He let go of the bat, which clattered to the floor. "Jesus, it's just me."
And just like that, the adrenaline evaporated, leaving behind a cold, sick dread that settled deep in your stomach. You saw it all—your favorite snacks from the gas station, your favorite fast food, the case for that dumb action movie he loved, the broken lightbulb at his feet from the lamp you now knew he was trying to fix.
You realized then that the phone call this morning wasn’t just him being nice. He was listening. He must’ve heard the exhaustion in your voice, the thinly veiled frustration. He didn't just get off work early; he came here, to your space, to try and fix it.
And you had responded by hitting him with a baseball bat and punching him in the face.
"Oh my god," you breathed out, the words barely a whisper. You felt your own jaw tremble. "Leon, I-I'm so sorry. I didn't... the door was unlocked, and the light... and you were just a shadow..."
You were rambling, but he was already shaking his head, a weak, pained smile trying to form on his lips. He stepped forward carefully, as if you might still be a threat.
"Hey, no, it's my fault," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I should have called. I just... wanted to surprise you. Clearly, I'm great at it."
You knew the joke was an attempt to soothe you, but it only made the guilt worse. Without warning, and without caring about the glass shards, you jumped forward, causing him to let out a surprised "oof" as your body collided with his. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—laundry detergent, old coffee, and something that was just Leon.
His arms, slow and careful, wrapped around you. One hand settled on the back of your head, stroking your hair, while the other was a firm, steady pressure on your back. At first, you figured it was his way of comforting you, making sure you were okay. But then you remembered the glass on the floor, and you realized he was subtly shifting his body, making sure he was the one standing between you and the mess.
It was such a Leon thing to do—getting punched in the face and immediately worrying about you stepping on broken glass, regardless of whether you had shoes on.
A shaky laugh escaped you, a wet, hiccupping sound against the fabric of his jacket—his RPD jacket, the one you'd grown to love more than you thought you could love a piece of clothing. And it wasn't because you liked wearing it on occasion. Actually, you hated it when he let you wear it. Not because it didn't look good—because it did. No, it was because you liked him in it more. It smelled like him, felt like him, and that all went away when you were wearing it. All you could smell was your own perfume, and you just didn't like that. You wanted to smell him, not you.
You had a small smile for a moment, thinking about the first day you met him.
It wasn't anything special, nothing like a movie. It was simple. It was raining, and you were sitting at a bus stop in your work clothes, which were now soaked because you missed the bus and had to wait another half hour. To make matters worse, your umbrella had broken a few days before due to a windy day. You were just staring at your shoes, watching the small puddles gather around them, when a shadow suddenly loomed over you. When you looked up, there was a man, about as soaked as you, holding out that same jacket to you.
"Here," he said. His hair was dripping, and he was shivering a bit. You couldn't help but notice the way the water clung to his lashes. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
You'd taken it, of course, mumbling a small "thank you," before the delightful smell of him hit you. It was something you'd never smelled before, and you knew from the small, reassuring smile he gave you when you looked up again, and the respectful distance he kept, that you wanted to get to know this man.
And now here he was, in your apartment, taking a punch from you because he was trying to be a good boyfriend. A rookie, as he often called himself in both work and love, but even though he was sure he was doing a terrible job, it was moments like these that reminded you just how good he truly was.
It made situations like this all the more painful, in a weird way. You had the urge to just fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but you knew he wouldn't want that. Instead, you just held him tighter, trying to pour all of your apology into the simple action.
"I am so, so sorry, Le," you mumbled into his chest, the words muffled by the fabric. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands coming up to cup his face. Your thumb gently brushed over the now-darkening bruise on his jaw. "Does it hurt?"
"Rookie cop, remember?" he said with a weak smile. "I've taken worse. Though... I gotta admit, you've got a mean right hook."
You couldn't help but laugh, a real, genuine laugh this time, and you felt some of the tension leave your body. You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised spot, a silent apology. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and you felt him lean into your touch.
"Let me get some ice for that," you whispered, pulling away. You turned to head to the kitchen in an attempt to right your wrong, but he stopped you with a gentle tug on your wrist.
He apologized to you instead. It made you pause, your eyes searching his. You were seriously debating arguing with him because he had no reason to be apologizing, but the look in those baby blues of his was enough to make you nod him on, to let him speak.
"I should've called," he said, his voice soft. "Should have let you know I was coming. I just... You sounded so tired this morning, and I wanted to... I don't know, fix it. Make it better." He looked away for a second, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Stupid, I know."
"It's not stupid," you said, your voice firm. "It's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."
He finally looked back at you, a small, shy smile on his face. You felt your heart do that little flip-flop it always did when he looked at you like that.
"How about this," you said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You let me get you some ice, and clean up this mess, and then we can pretend this whole 'me assaulting a police officer' thing never happened."
He chuckled, a real, full-throated chuckle this time. "Deal. But only if you let me clean up the glass. I'm the one who broke it. It's only right."
You wanted to argue, but you knew it would be pointless. He had that determined look in his eyes that you knew all too well. The same look he got when he insisted on paying for dinner, even when you offered to split it. The same look he got when he would stay up late with you, even though he had an early shift the next day, just because you couldn't sleep.
"Okay," you relented. "But ice first. And you sit down. No arguing."
He opened his mouth to protest too, but you identically shot him a look that said, "Don't even think about it," and he closed it again, holding up his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright," he said, a playful smile on his face. "Yes, ma'am."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling back. Despite all the drama of the last few minutes, the rest of the night was salvageable. More than salvageable.
You gave him the ice, gently pressing the cold pack to his jaw for a few minutes before telling him to hold it there himself while you went to get the broom and dustpan from the closet. The moment you reached for them, he started to rise from the couch—clearly intending to take them from you before you could even carry them back.
You turned, catching him halfway up, and immediately shot him back down with your words, causing him to give a sheepish half-smile, conceding—at least for a few more minutes—that you could handle fetching the tools without him jumping in to do it for you.
Then, after the few minutes were up, he took the broom from you when you weren't looking and started cleaning up the glass, and you let him this time, because he was giving you that same look from before again. The determined look. The "I am going to take care of you, even if you don't want me to, because I love you" look.
And soon you were both sitting on your couch, the living room finally looking like your living room again, the only evidence of the earlier chaos being the bruise on Leon's jaw, the empty ice pack on the coffee table, and the faint smell of fast food that still lingered in the air.
The movie was at its climax—a ridiculously over-the-top car chase that usually had Leon smiling and leaning forward, completely engrossed. Tonight, he was still smiling, still watching the screen, but a part of his attention was on you. You could feel it like a warm current, a gentle awareness that settled in the space between you.
You were curled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, the familiar rhythm of his breathing a soothing balm against the frayed edges of your day. His arm was draped around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, sending little shivers of delight through you.
"You know," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair, "I have an idea of how you can make it up to me."
You tilted your head back to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. "Oh, really? And what might that be, Officer Kennedy?"
He leaned down, his nose almost touching yours. "Well," he said, his voice a low whisper. "For starters, I know where you can get a really great deal on lightbulbs."
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "I'm sure you do."
"And then," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I've got another place in mind if you wanted to give me another one of your famous right hooks—if you're up for the challenge of aiming somewhere else." He winked, and you felt a familiar warmth spread through your chest.
"And where is that?" you asked, playing along. You already knew the answer, of course, but you loved this game. The back-and-forth. The easy banter that had become your love language.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Why tell you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, "when I could just show you."
summary: You’re still struggling with overworking. Leon shows you when it’s time to take a break.
master list | previous (not required but gives some context) next
cw: once again, female pronouns used but reader’s features are not described, some suggestive content, dom! leon much more heavily this time, very not subtle praise kink (use of good girl), pet names, tbh rating COULD be pg-13 but i don’t write nsfw so minors ur fine :) uhhhh non-sexual sub-space if you squint?
tags/tropes: once again hurt/comfort, cuddles, leon being touchy again (reader is just as touchy honestly) soft dom behavior (leon)
a/n: a little continued drabble for those of u who asked/liked the last one !! hope u like it @cherryandsugar <3
MY ELDEST DAUGHTERS WITH PRAISE KINKS MAKE SOME NOISE 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯💯
｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ
You’re overworking again.
You don’t mean to, necessarily. It’s just always what you do. Work, work, work. It needs to get done, so you do it. No matter how tired you are, no matter how much you don’t want to do it. No matter how many tears get shed. It needs to get done. You have to do it. So you do it.
Leon’s been taking issue, with it though.
You’re not really sure what you are to each other, yet. He definitely finds you attractive —he tells you pretty much everyday, an almost overuse of words like hot, sexy, cute, amazing, and of course, his favorite; princess.
He occasionally comes over to the place you and a few other girls rent together and does his absolute best to be as distracting as possible. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes he gets touchy, sometimes he just sits on your bed and watches you work which is, in your opinion, by far the worst one.
When he’s not bothering you in the comfort of your own home, he’s sitting next to you in the couple classes you share, a distracting hand on your thigh that he squeezes when you get a question right— something that never fails to make you breathless and dizzy for a few minutes afterwards. Between the sight of his hand engulfing your thigh and the frequency of your correct answers, it’s a miracle you don’t asphyxiate during class.
You did come close, once. It was a week after what you’ve dubbed The Library Incident, and the professor had singled you out as one of his most consistent students when it came to turning in homework. Leon had leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispered, all low and rumbly:
“Good girl.”
You didn’t get a single thing out of the lecture for the rest of class.
(You’d then given him the silent treatment, but he made up for it by you sending you his rather extensive and detailed notes from the lesson with a single text: “Better learn to multitask, princess.”)
So yeah. He isn’t a huge fan of your studying habits. Something he’s made abundantly clear.
“When was the last time you got up?” He grumbles, walking into your room with your now full reusable water bottle. You’d abandoned it in the kitchen a few hours ago. He’s such a stickler about your water intake.
“Who are you, my mother?” You pause, looking up at the mischief in his eyes and the way his mouth is open, poised to say something, likely dirty. “Don’t answer that.”
You reach out with grabby hands towards your water bottle, which you know is filled with some delicious water combination, courtesy of Leon. Shit, he’s Pavlov-ing you into drinking water, isn’t he?
He rolls his eyes, handing you the bottle. “You know, you can make this exact same water yourself with the items in your fridge. Which I put there. For you. To use. Yourself.”
“You make it better,” You answer smoothly, ignoring his sarcasm. Ooooh. It’s minty strawberry today.
“Oh?” He says with a raised eyebrow, a signature Leon smirk on his lips. The same one he always gets when you admit to liking him in some way.
“You’re such an attention whore. Isn’t that why you came over here?”
“Ouch. So touchy,” He tuts, draping himself over your back and resting his chin on your head. “But no. I came over here to drag the lovely and beautiful and terribly stubbornly princess away from her desk because she’s overworking again.”
You tense. “I can’t, Leon. Not right now. I have to finish this.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“I get behind and then I can’t catch up and then I fail—“
“Woah, now,” He says, standing and spinning your desk chair so it faces him instead of your work. “None of that is going to happen if you take a break. We both know your work ethic is too good for that.”
You start worrying your lip between your teeth. “But—“
“Hey,” He says, a gentle, slow hand reaching out and brushing your lip away from your teeth. “None of that. Leave your lip alone.”
You wince. It’s a mindless action, the same way you pick at your hangnails and other parts of your skin when you’re stressed. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Just don’t want my girl hurting herself more than she already is.”
You ignore the latter part of his sentence and focus on the first. “Your girl?”
“Yeah,” He says, tilting his head and looking down at you with a small smile on his face. “My girl.”
You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I won’t be able to sleep or relax if I don’t finish this. It— I can’t.”
He takes the side of your face in his hand, thumb sweeping across your cheek and beneath your eyelid. “I know, baby. But you work too much.”
“But I have—“
“You have to, I know. I know you’re hardwired for independence and overworking. So how about this. Take a break, lie down in bed with me, and then finish only what you’ve already started.”
You start chewing on your lip again. “I—“
His fingers deftly move down to your jaw, grabbing it firm, thumb pressing on the edge of your lip and pulling it down, away from the merciless bite of your teeth. His grip leaves no room for argument, but you don’t feel frightened or scared. In fact, your stomach is doing flips at the careful, gentle control in the press of his hands and the fondness in his eyes.
“I know I phrased that very nicely, but this isn’t an argument, sweetheart. You need to rest. Your brain needs time to recharge. What happens if you get sick from all this working, huh?”
You decide now isn’t the time to bring up that you always work through every cold, flu, and fever you’ve ever had.
“Hey,” He leans down, catching your averted gaze. “Look at me.”
He could easily turn your head himself, his fingers still pressed against your jaw, but he doesn’t. He waits for you to muster up the strength to look over at him yourself, eyelashes fluttering.
His gaze is cool and deep when it meets yours. “I am not mad at you. I am not upset with you. I just want you to take care of yourself.”
His voice, gaining that low, rumbly edge when he ushers the words sends tingles up your spine. You sigh, letting the tension ease from your shoulders.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I’ll try harder.”
“You’re doing just fine, okay?” He pulls you up by your hands, hand leaving your face as he tugs you over to your bed. Once you’ve sat down, he reaches back towards your desk, grabbing your water bottle from your desk and putting it on your bedside table. “You just need a little help sometimes. Everybody does.”
He motions for you to scoot over and you oblige, immediately slotting into what’s become one of your usual positions: arms wrapped around his torso, head pillowed on his chest.
“There we go,” He mumbles, hand sliding under your shirt, intermittently squeezing the place his hands always seem to find: the squishy, vulnerable stretch of flesh in between the top of your hip and the bottom of your ribcage. He rolls the skin there in his hands, a pleased hum rumbling from his chest. “Such a good girl for me.”
You shudder, hiding your blush by pressing your face further into his chest. A tingle spreads from your spine to the rest of your body.
He chuckles. “Aw, you like that don’t you? Did the same thing last time. Is that all I have to do? Is that what you need, baby?”
A small whine rip’s itself from your throat before you manage to tamp it down. Embarrassed, you try and hide your face further.
“None of that, now. Come on, let me see that pretty face.”
You shift, rolling to basically lie on top of him, bracing your hands on either side of him to lift your head, a small frown on your face and a not-so-small flush across your face.
He smiles, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “There she is,” He practically coos, “My pretty baby.”
“You’re baby-talking me.”
“Mhm,” He says, squeezing your cheeks. “You got a problem with it?”
“…No.”
“What was that?”
You drop back down, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his chest. “Shhh. I’m supposed to be resting.”
“Convenient that you’re listening to me now.”
“Shush.”
He grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more. He slips his hands under your shirt, palming the expanse of your skin. His fingers are hot where they press and linger, warmth spreading from the points of contact. You go limp in his hold, humming contentedly.
You’re not really sure how much time passes with the both of you like that— bodies pressed close, legs tangled together. It just feels so… nice.
You relax. You actually relax. A small part of you feels annoyed that Leon is your source of comfort and relaxation (muttered whispers in your brain whine about independence, about not relying on anyone else—) the bigger, louder part of you is so overwhelmed with how nice it feels to just… not worry. Even for a little bit. In moments like this your brain goes pleasantly blank: Leon will take care of it. You don’t have to worry, because Leon will take care of it.
The stretches of time you spend in what you’ve mentally dubbed Limbo have started getting longer. At first, you’d last five, maybe ten minutes before your brain would kick into high gear again; worries and concerns flooding your brain so quickly you usually jolt straight up.
But now? It’s easy to slip into it. To let yourself take a mental break. Check out from life for a half hour or so. And when you’re ready to get back to work, you do just that- usually a lot calmer than before Leon came around.
It’s addicting. It’s dangerous.
“How long has it been.”
“Five minutes.”
You blink your eyes open, frowning. “It has not been five minutes,” You reach for your bedside table, snatching your phone off and checking the time. “Liar. It’s been thirty minutes.”
“Is it so wrong to want to lay in bed and hold my princess?”
“It is when the princess has work to do.” You grumble, sitting off and rolling off the bed with a thud.
“It’s so unnerving when you do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No,” You say, hauling yourself to your feet. “It’s fun.”
“I don’t see how sustaining bodily injury is fun.”
“You wouldn’t get it,” You say, waving a hand in dismissal.
Loud shuffling and the thump of Leon climbing to his feet has you looking back. “You’re leaving?”
You can’t quite keep the desperation out of your tone.
He looks at you, surprised. “Usually you don’t like it when I stay while you work.”
“Yes,” You say, cheeks burning. “Um. Yeah. Right yeah. I have work to do. So.”
“Princess,” He says, his voice low and teasing, “You want me to stay?”
“No, no I have to work—“
“Uh-uh,” He says, crossing the room to stand in front of you, arms folded. “No lying. Do you want me to stay?”
You look down at your sock-clad feet. “Please?”
“Aw, well how could I say no to that,” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Finish your work. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
as an eldest daughter myself, this was really comforting to read! i’m always yearning those moments where i can stop thinking & relax for once; reading this piece felt exactly like that 🥹
content: all fluff with a teeny tiny hint of nsfw but nothing crazy! what rookie!leon would be like as a boyfriend :-) most of this is pre raccoon city incident + modern day au!
a/n: love all the dilf!leon content but i'm always experiencing rookie!leon brainrot tbh ... anyways, i hope you enjoy! please send me some requests i have no idea what to write but i'm probably doing an nsfw ver. of this next hehe :P
leon is the most protective and loyal boyfriend ever! let's be clear though, there's a fine line between being protective and being controlling. he knows where that line is and doesn't ever cross it. your safety and wellbeing are his biggest priorities as your partner.
whenever you're out drinking with your friends at the local bar, he makes sure to be within an arm's length of his phone in case something goes wrong. he always picks you up in his jeep after a night out and makes sure to give your friends a ride home, too, so everyone gets home safe. he even makes sure to have bottles of water in his car in case anyone needs to sober up.
leon overthinks everything. he cares a lot about what you think about him, so he overanalyzes everything he says to you and spends a lot of nights ruminating until he falls asleep from exhaustion, especially during conflicts.
because of this, he needs a lot of reassurance and clear communication is really important to him! phrases like "i'm not upset at you" or "you didn't do anything wrong" work wonders in combination with a hug.
he's always admiring you, especially when you're doing mundane things. one of his favorite things to do is to watch you do your makeup when you're getting ready for a night out. as someone who thinks thrice before doing or saying anything, the way you live so unapologetically yourself is something that takes his breath away every time. it's the thing he loves the most about you.
he's not big on pda, but he always holds your hand. he drives a manual jeep, so when you first started dating, he kept having to let go every few seconds to change gears -- something that bothered him more than he'd like to admit. one day, he quietly took your hand, set it over the shift knob, and rested his hand on top of yours. that way, he could hold your hand and drive at the same time!
he's not really that talkative. he actually has a lot to say and a lot he wants to tell you, but it's like his mind just blanks whenever he's with you. he's really worried you think he's boring, so he started a list in his notes app titled, "things to tell her." throughout the day, whenever something happens or he thinks of something he wants to tell you, he'll quickly jot down a couple of keywords if he has access to his phone. from then on, whenever you guys are out on a date, he'll open his phone on his lap for a few seconds and refer to it when you're looking away because he doesn't want you to think he's not paying attention.
he may not be very talkative, but he's a great listener and he's really attentive, especially to the small details. one day, you casually mentioned that you liked a snack that he bought for you and he proceeded to buy a box of them the day after.
leon's always a gentleman! he always opens the door for you. one time, you made the mistake of opening your car door to get out and he leaned over you and closed the door again, giving you a blank stare. "you're not supposed to touch that," he shook his head and got out, walking over to your side of the car to open the door for you.
mid conversation, when you guys are walking on the sidewalk, he'll reach behind you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, followed by a quiet step behind you to switch sides with you. he's always on the side closest to the street! after dates, he always walks you to your door and doesn't drive away until he sees that you're inside safe.
leon's a total homebody. between work and school, when he has some free time, he uses it to catch up on sleep, play video games, or spend time with you, but he makes sure to take you out on a date at least once a week! sometimes, when both of you are tired, a date night can look like a study session at his place with your favorite snacks and a movie to follow! however, he doesn't always prefer movie dates because he likes to be able to talk to you and bond with you, so more often than not, he'll plan an activity for the two of you to do together.
he listens to what you would call "divorced dad rock," so this usually consists of a lot of creed, 3 doors down, and green day. a couple of his most favorite songs ever are kryptonite by 3 doors down, dirty little secret by the all-american rejects, and i don't want to be by gavin degraw!
sometimes, when he's over at your place, he leaves his sweatshirt at yours on purpose so he can see you wearing it and you always do a few days later. he's too shy to tell you, but he thinks it's really hot when you go to sleep in it, wearing nothing but panties underneath his sweatshirt.
leon's a little corny and likes to celebrate your guys' anniversary every month, even after the first year of dating. he justifies it by saying it gives you guys a reason to get together and celebrate something every month. he always remembers to plan something fun for you guys to do that day and always brings you flowers when he picks you up.
he talks about you all the time at work. he talks about you so much, his coworkers feel like they know you before they've even met you. sometimes, when you sleepover and he has work the next day, you pack him a lunch and he takes about 50 pictures of it every time. he loves when you write him a little note and pack it away in his lunch box, even if his coworkers tease him for it. he keeps them safe in his locker! leon will sit with his coworkers at lunchtime and give them a haul of everything you cooked and packed for him with the biggest grin on his face.
even after a year into your relationship, leon still gets giddy and excited before going on a date with you. you'll see him wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans before intertwining his fingers with yours. you make him feel like he's a middle schooler with a crush on his classmate again.
when leon's driving you guys somewhere, he notices a habit that you picked up -- resting your arm just beneath his headrest. he loves when you play with his hair or give his head and neck a little massage while he's driving. it relaxes him, but more than anything, he just loves to feel your touch. he especially melts when you trace your fingers along his jaw and place your thumb on the indent on his chin, gently pulling his face forward when you lean in for a kiss. it makes his heart flutter every time.
(The hell of Raccoon City still has you firmly in its grip. Paralyzed by what remains, you find yourself thinking about what could have been - about the best first day Leon should have had.)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (to come)
(parts can be read in any order 😊)
Word Count: ~ 9.4k
Rating: E - essentially plot with porn and all the fluff in between; AU where the outbreak didn't happen; Rookie Leon has his first day; R.P.D. shenanigans with all the West Office lovelies; Marvin Branagh is the West Office's dad; retro music is so chic; we stan 60s to 80s; Leon has Classic Rock in his blood; Leon is a dork and we love it, first date at the movies; making out; dating Rookie Leon; mentions of oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex
Special Reader Characteristics: R.P.D. officer, depicted as a music lover/nerd (super in focus in this part, mixtape collection and all)
Author's Note: I screamed a lot while writing this and almost, ALMOST, published this part before part 2 lmao. But no, I held myself back to tell the story in the direction I planned to. I could babble on about this part for ages, but I will limit myself to this: Our beautiful, precious boy deserves the best first day with his bestest colleagues 🥹 Thank you for sticking around and reading my brain's rainbow vomit 💕
Day 30
Would you ever unpack those moving boxes?
You only moved when the laminate floor had absorbed your body heat and you wanted to shift onto a new, cold patch.
Your only mixtape was the 60s one that had made it out of Raccoon City with you. With you, with Rita… but without Leon.
Your Walkman lay on the floor beside you. Right at eye level – something you could focus on – watching the cassette spin inside the mechanism while the gentle voice of Elvis Presley flowed into the headphones over your ears:
“Take my hand / Take my whole life, too / For I can't help falling in love with you”
In this bare, unfamiliar government apartment somewhere in Washington D.C., you searched, paralyzed, for a fragment of home. And while you imagined how things might have turned out if all of this had never happened in RC, quiet tears slipped down your face.
Day 0 – Side B
“Morning!” you trilled cheerfully over the cranked-up music of your Walkman as you stepped into the West Office.
You couldn’t hear your colleagues’ reactions, but one glance at Edward told you everything – his mouth pulled downward dramatically, once again incredulous at your ‘disgustingly’ good mood at seven in the morning.
Someone had to keep morale up. And it helped that you’d swapped your playlist to 80s tracks on your way out.
Grinning, you were about to drop your bag at your desk and go to change into your uniform when the thing hanging above the new colleague’s desk caught your attention.
“Uh…” you said. Your headphones slipped down to rest around your neck.
“I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky / I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher…”
“Jesus,” Edward chimed in, “I can hear your music all the way over here. You’re going to wreck your hearing with that noise.”
You puffed out your cheeks, your eyes fixed on the banner.
“It’s John Parr,” you explained absently. “A real 80s classic, you know, because of the movie – hey, who put up the banner for the new guy?”
“I can climb the highest mountain, cross the wildest sea / I can feel St. Elmo's fire burnin' in me…”
You switched off your Walkman. Your gaze landed on Edward at his desk, then on Rita at hers – and farther back, the light was on in the corner office, so Lieutenant Branagh was already there. Maybe even Sergeant Carlsen too, welcoming the new Rookie on his orientation day. Finally, you weren’t the greenest one in the unit anymore.
Rita shrugged, shaking her head, and Edward waved your question away, preferring to focus on the file in front of him.
“It says ‘WELLCOME’ with two L’s,” you pointed out, folding your arms.
“Seriously?” Edward perked up. His appetite for drama won over his desire to look laid-back as he stepped beside you to inspect the damage. He laughed softly when he realized you, indeed, hadn’t lied just to get his attention. As if you ever would.
“Must’ve been Scott last night. Always knew we shouldn’t take him to a spelling bee, ever.”
“That’s not very nice.” You still couldn’t suppress a giggle. Scott was definitely asleep in the night-duty room right now. “I’ll go change real quick and fix it afterward. He’s coming in at eight, right?”
Edward shot you a sly side-eye. “I’m pretty sure you know exactly when your new partner in crime is arriving. You’ve practically told the entire R.P.D. about your brilliant little puzzle for him.”
There was no point arguing with Edward’s teasing – that would only fuel it. Ever since the Lieutenant had shared the idea with the West Office team to lock the new Rookie’s desk – Leon S. Kennedy – and use the initials of your first names as the code, you’d been even more excited to meet him. Especially because you’d come up with a riddle for him.
A ridiculously easy one, but still.
Maybe you really shouldn’t have told everyone you talked to about it. Now you lived with somewhat fun-making looks and the occasional question about when your new Rookie colleague would finally start so you could do Rookie things together. Chris, especially, wouldn’t let it go – and you barely ever saw him, what with the S.T.A.R.S. office being quite far away.
You rolled your eyes playfully, shook your head dismissively, and headed toward the lockers.
“Don’t break your neck,” Lieutenant Branagh cautioned as you climbed onto Leon’s desk to remove the unnecessary L. “I don’t want to have to write that report.”
“Wasn’t me, I swear.” Scott, along with everyone else from the West Office, had gathered to be present for the new guy’s first steps in the workplace he’d chosen for himself. The moment it had been announced that Leon had requested to be stationed in Raccoon City, you’d decided you were going to ask him about the story behind it. It would be a good icebreaker, surely – a way to get to know him.
“Don’t worry, we’re insured against that kind of thing,” Sergeant Carlsen chimed in, watching your spectacle with obvious amusement from the doorway of the corner office. “She writes her own workplace accident reports.”
“It’s not like this is difficult,” you reassured the onlookers, plucking one of the Ls from the tape. “Ta-da! Easy peasy.”
Grinning triumphantly, you held the round paper letter out into the room, still standing on top of the desk. Had you expected applause? No. Would it have been appropriate? Probably not. Would it have been nice? Absolutely.
“Good work, Rookie,” Branagh at least offered a few words of praise – though there was unmistakable, low laughter in his voice.
You took what you could get. And were just a little delusional in the process, choosing to interpret his words as completely sincere. One small hop later, you were standing firmly on the ground again. The L landed on the nearest desk that didn’t belong to Leon.
“Now that’s how we make a good first impression.” You rubbed your hands together dramatically, job done, and returned to your own desk.
Luckily for Leon, no one was going to stand in a circle at the front of the office chanting welcome – they hadn’t done that for you either, instead letting you arrive at your own pace.
Trying to appear completely casual and not excited at all, you put on your headphones and began working your way through the files spread across your desk – cases that were closed and needed to be handed over to Ford for archiving. Hopefully, you’d be back on patrol soon instead of drowning in paperwork day in, day out.
Again and again, your eyes flicked to the clock on the wall – thirty minutes… fifteen minutes…
You didn’t even really know why you were this nervous. All you’d heard about Leon was that he’d graduated from the police academy with top marks and had specifically requested the R.P.D. as his station. Which meant you hadn’t attended the academy together – you were from RC. It was probably just the fact that someone new would be working in the West Office.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Sergeant leave the office. You’d sneak a look at the rookie, then get back to work while he tackled his first assignment and, sooner or later, made his way to your desk. Then you’d – totally casually – present him with your riddle. You could do this. The end of your pen tasted like plastic.
The Lieutenant moved toward the entrance leading into the main hall. The door opened. Sergeant Carlson stepped inside – and behind him, Leon Kennedy. Right on cue, you noticed what track was currently playing on your mixtape:
“Hungry eyes / One look at you and I can’t disguise, I’ve got hungry eyes”
“Really?” you muttered reproachfully at your device. This wasn’t Dirty Dancing, and it wasn’t a rom-com either. No matter how breathtaking the new guy might be.
With a practiced flick, you fast-forwarded the track, your attention on your Walkman while your pen dangled between your teeth. The song you hit play on was far less suggestive – The Bangles with Manic Monday.
No one stood up except the Sergeant and the Lieutenant already standing – everyone was waiting for Leon to step up to his desk and frown when he realized it wasn’t open. You caught Rita sneaking more than a few glances beside you. Scott and Edward across from you were wearing equally amused expressions.
And sure enough: Leon read through the letter Branagh had written for him. Then his gaze drifted across the room, taking in all his new colleagues – first surprised, then a shy smile crept onto his lips. Somehow, you found yourself wishing you’d been given a funny first task like that too. On the other hand, Leon would now have to introduce himself to everyone individually, which – depending on the person – was at least a little uncomfortable.
He started with Scott across the room, which meant you’d be second to last. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice the second L you’d left somewhere over there.
You took the opportunity to watch him surreptitiously over the central, high table island – as well as you could, anyway, with all the papers scattered across it.
Nothing could have prepared you for just how handsome Leon Kennedy was. Maybe that was why you’d been so nervous – somewhere deep down, you’d already known your new colleague was going to be a dangerously distracting presence.
His eyes sparkled with the kind of positive excitement that came with a first day on the job. As he stood across from you talking to Edward, you could see their blue – a blue that was almost impossible to describe, as if it belonged to a fantastical world where lakes and oceans existed in exactly that shade.
The gently swaying strands of his hair resembled sand-dusted gold, falling around his softly shaped face, down to his cheekbones, framed by a sharp, contrasting jawline.
And then there was his smile – honestly, enough to make you melt. Open, friendly, almost painfully sincere. If he was even half as kind as he was attractive, you were going to have to be very careful not to start swooning.
The closer Leon got to your desk, the more your stomach fluttered, and the more stubbornly you stared at the paper in front of you – even though you could barely focus on the words anymore.
Casual… casual… you were casual and cool. So cool.
At least Bryan Adams distracted you a little, one of your favorite tracks on the mixtape easing some of the tension. You helped it along by quietly lip-syncing the lyrics. What you couldn’t stop was the end of your pen being almost chewed apart between rapid scribbles on the page.
“Standin’ on your mama’s porch / You told me that it’d last forever…”
A movement made you look up. The Lieutenant and Edward were standing in the doorway to the corner office, waving at you and pointing – with exaggeratedly twitty expressions – to a spot directly beside you. Leon had reached you.
“Oh, and when you held my hand / I knew that it was now or never / Those were the best days of my life.”
You let the music fade in your ears as you turned your head and looked up at Leon, who stood next to you with a smile, one hand raised in greeting.
“Hey.” Your own smile was wide and welcoming – noticeably so; you could feel it. Your headphones slipped down onto your shoulders once again, and you switched off the Walkman.
“Hi. I’m new.” Leon’s eyes flicked nervously to the floor for a brief moment before finding yours again. What had he said to the others when greeting them?
“So I figured,” you replied with a little giggle, hoping to put him at ease around you.
“I’m Leon.” He held out his hand.
“Here we go,” Lieutenant Branagh’s comment carried very clearly through the room.
Leon glanced at him curiously.
In the meantime, your hand found his, pulling his attention back to you.
“Nice to meet you, Leon.”
You shook hands, suppressing the urge to wipe your palm on your pants – Leon was even more nervous than you were.
He waited for you to introduce yourself as well. But you’d practiced this. At last, your nervousness gave way entirely to the enjoyment you’d always imagined this moment would bring, and a small grin crept onto your face.
Leon’s smile didn’t fade – only his eyes showed confusion.
“What’s your name?” he asked, a nervous edge to his voice.
“Ah, my name.” Satisfied with how things were going, you leaned back in your chair, fingers interlaced and resting on your legs. “I have a riddle for you. Don’t worry – it’s easy.”
Snickering rippled through the room.
Leon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but his voice was steady when he replied,
“A riddle? Okay, I’m ready.”
“Amazing.” Your grin widened as you leaned forward, lowered your voice conspiratorially, and recited it – just a single sentence.
“Hm,” Leon murmured thoughtfully, scribbling something onto a notepad in his hand.
“What are you writing?” you asked curiously – surely he’d already cracked your little, silly riddle. It was intentionally easy. “Can I see?” You reached out, pleased with your own growing confidence.
Leon clicked his tongue, his smile turning into a grin of his own.
“Not yet,” he teased.
You let yourself fall back into your chair with a dramatic breath and simply shrugged, already – quite casually – turning back to your paperwork.
“By the way, what are you listening to?”
Surprised, you froze. Had he made small talk with the others too?
He pointed at the headphones hanging around your neck, then at the Walkman clipped to your hip.
“I brought an ’80s mixtape with me today,” you replied with a broad smile, giving your Walkman an affectionate little pat.
“Cool.” Leon’s voice was just as casual – interested, but not overly excited. “How many mixtapes do you have?”
You couldn’t help the snicker. “Like… a lot. It’s a hobby.”
“Maybe you can show them to me sometime.”
Your smile widened even further – if that was even possible. Damn it. That was definitely your flirting face. Better end this conversation with a small, innocent joke before your coworkers buried you alive out of secondhand embarrassment.
“Sure! Maybe I’ll even let you borrow my Walkman.”
Nailed it. Not.
Leon responded with a quiet laugh of his own, a thousand-watt smile, and a slight tilt of his head that sent his ashy-blond hair brushing softly across his eyes – somehow making the sparkle in them even brighter.
“I’d like that.”
“Okay.”
You deliberately toned down your own smile and moved to put your headphones back on.
“Okay.”
Leon’s expression grew more cautious as well, retreating into less friendly territory, and he moved on to his final stop before he could finally unlock his desk.
After Leon had made it through – including your riddle – he still hadn’t really started working. The Sergeant and the Lieutenant congratulated him and offered the office the bottle of champagne they’d bought for the occasion. For the next hour, everyone gathered around your new colleague, asking him questions.
That’s how you learned that the S. in his name stood for Scott, that he was a crime-movie junkie, and that classic rock was his favorite music genre. Not exactly what you’d listen to on a good-mood morning commute to the R.P.D., but you had a matching mixtape at home anyway – naturally. The classics: AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Journey…
“Hey, Rookie, over here.”
Your head turned toward Branagh’s voice out of habit. Once again, he was standing in the doorway to the corner office, beckoning you over with one hand.
He paused briefly, looking past you. “The old Rookie.”
His gaze landed on Leon, who had also looked up at being addressed. He glanced at you in surprise – Branagh had blown your cover. With a dismissive smile and a shrug, you turned away to see what your Lieutenant wanted.
“Come over here.” Branagh motioned for you to follow him a few steps into the office.
“What’s up?” you asked curiously.
Branagh stopped in front of you, arms crossed, a stupid grin on his face – he was definitely up to something. He lifted his hand from the crook of his arm, revealing two small, printed pieces of paper.
“Didn’t take you for a comedy fan, Lieutenant,” you deadpanned.
“These are for you to invite Leon to the movies with you,” Branagh replied, waving the movie tickets in front of your face. “I’ve also heard the film has sci-fi elements. Should be right up you kids’ alley. Gives you new colleagues a chance to get to know each other better.”
Irritation – and more than a little embarrassment – sent warmth creeping into your cheeks. You’d known they’d tease you after the spectacle earlier, but sending you on a date with the new guy had to cross some kind of line.
“Um… surely you didn’t buy the tickets just to give them to us,” you tried to wriggle out of it.
Not because the idea wasn’t nice – but because it wasn’t yours.
Branagh waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter who the tickets were meant for or who they came from. We agree that you two – you know, as Rookies – should get to know each other better. Rookie solidarity is important.” The little hehe at the end of his explanation still gave it all away.
He pressed the movie tickets into your hand. “Show Leon around a bit, give him a nice tour of the station, tell him about the job and what there is to learn here. That should come from no one but our star Rookie.” He winked. “And soon enough, you won’t be the default Rookie anymore.”
You examined the movie tickets with deliberate skepticism, making sure Branagh wouldn’t suspect that behind your awkward exterior, a far-too-smitten girl was currently dancing the samba.
“You know flattery has always worked on me, Lieutenant,” you shot back.
“I know my Rookies.” Branagh grinned and gave your shoulder an approving pat.
One thing you weren’t going to do, though, was ask Leon out – or rather, invite him to a getting-to-know-you evening – in front of everyone. That would be far too awkward if he turned it down and preferred to keep things strictly professional.
So you waited until the welcome drinks had been finished and everyone had either returned to their desks or – in Rita’s case – headed out on patrol. Only then did you approach Leon’s desk, where he was currently buried in a mountain of past and present cases Ford had supplied him with.
“Hey,” you said, trying to get his attention.
He looked up. The concentrated furrow of his brows softened the moment he saw you, and the little bit of hype you’d carefully built up inside yourself drained almost instantly.
“Hey,” he greeted you back. Oh boy – that smile.
You smiled right back before putting your plan into action. “Would you like a tour of the building?” You gestured over your shoulder toward the hallway door. “We could start right here in the west wing and make a round.”
Leon’s eyes followed your gesture, and he agreed almost immediately. “Sure, thanks for the offer.”
He followed you toward the back door. Beyond it stretched the ground floor of the west wing. Across from the West Office was the Safety Deposit Room, further down the hall the Dark Room, and just beyond that the stairs leading up to the Shower Room with its adjoining lockers.
“You probably already know the R.P.D. used to be a museum, right?” you gave Leon the rundown as you strolled through the halls of your workplace at an easy pace. “That’s why we have such a big, beautiful library.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. Pretty cool.”
“I think so too,” you smiled. “This is S.T.A.R.S – our Special Tactics and Rescue Service. They haven’t been around that long yet, just about two years.”
“You know any of them?” Leon asked as you passed the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office.
“Actually, yeah. Jill is my neighbor. She’s pretty cool and an absolute expert at break-ins. Very handy if you lock yourself out.” You chuckled. “Though she did get my spare key afterward. And, well,” you shrugged, “you know one, you know them all. Rebecca from Bravo Team is really good at basketball.”
“Wonder what the requirements are to get into S.T.A.R.S,” Leon mused.
You laughed. “You don’t want to be in S.T.A.R.S. – they work twenty-four-hour shifts and specialize in counterterrorism. They barely deal with civilians.”
“Huh,” Leon murmured in acknowledgment.
You’d reached the upper level of the library. Below, several officers and the records keepers moved between the impressive rows upon rows of wooden bookshelves – so tall that ladders were attached to reach even their highest boards.
Leon looked around the room in fascination while you waved down to Ford, who’d also ended up here. He pointed at Leon and gave a thumbs-up. Casual – and clearly part of the plot.
“Why did you join the force?” Leon asked suddenly. “Lieutenant Branagh called you Rookie. Are you new too?”
Your eyes stayed on the hall in front of you as you answered:
“I’m new-ish. I’ve been in the field a little while now. I wanted to make a difference, I guess.” Your gaze drifted to Leon, who was still taking in the library. “Why did you?”
“To help people,” came the immediate answer. “A cop once helped me a great deal when I was a kid.” He looked at you, determination and excitement shining in his eyes. “I never forgot him – or what kind of impact we can have on people.”
Not only was he ridiculously good-looking, he also apparently had a heart of gold. Maybe you should actually send the Lieutenant a thank-you card for giving you such an excellent introduction to Leon.
“That’s… very noble, in a way. I admire that. Knowing what you want out of life – that’s not easy.”
Leon smiled gratefully at the compliment as you reached into your chest pocket and slipped the movie tickets between your fingers.
“I, uh… I actually have another question for you.” You fidgeted with the small slips of paper, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone in case it was inappropriate or uncomfortable for you. You don’t have to say yes – no pressure at all. I just thought maybe we could get to know each other a little better, you know, as new colleagues and –”
“What is it?” Leon interrupted gently, amusement lacing his voice as he cut through your nervous rambling.
“Uh – I have two tickets for this movie everyone’s talking about right now. The Truman Show? Supposed to be really good. I thought maybe we could watch it together. Tomorrow night's showing – so our shifts don’t make it difficult.”
You held the movie tickets out to Leon.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, Leon studied you first, then the tickets in your hand. You were already bracing yourself for him to say no, for having made a fool of yourself.
You were just about to blurt out that it had been a stupid idea anyway – mentally vowing to shoot the Lieutenant a death glare every single time you passed his office (which you would now do on purpose, far more often) – when Leon finally spoke:
“I’d love to!”
Was that excited happiness in his voice?
You relaxed as Leon took his ticket.
“Show’s at eight,” he read. “Should I pick you up at seven?”
“Sure,” you replied – your smile, once again, wide and unmistakably flirty, now accompanied by an excited flutter in your stomach.
“It’s a date.” Leon slipped the ticket into his pocket.
You didn’t question the phrasing. Yeah, damn it, if he saw it as a date, then you definitely did too. It dawned on you that Leon seemed just as interested in you as you were in him – whether that was a good idea didn’t matter right now.
“I’m looking forward to it.” At last, some of your wit returned. “Okay, come on – let’s finish the tour. It’s still a long way, no dawdling.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you heard Leon chuckle behind you.
“Can’t believe you’re instantly pulling the new guy at your office. Gotta take a peek at him when he arrives.”
Jill was sitting on her bed next to a pizza box while you rummaged through her closet. The fact that you’d even managed to run into her and tell her about the last two days bordered on a miracle as it was. If she stayed subtle now, you’d know some supernatural luck was shining down on you.
“I didn’t pull him,” you objected. “He honestly fell right into my lap.” You made a triumphant sound when you finally found the piece you’d been looking for.
“Potayto, potahto.” Jill took another bite. “I want that back, though,” she said around a mouthful of pizza, pointing at the black leather jacket you were planning to borrow.
After all, this was a movie date under the guise of getting to know a new colleague – you had to look cool, only subtly dressed up, like you hadn’t put any effort into it at all.
Out in the hallway, someone knocked on a door. You glanced at the clock. Only half past six. It couldn’t be Leon… could it? A moment passed, then there was another knock. No door opened.
“Is Romeo early?” Jill asked, smirking. She swung her legs – clad in sweatpants – off the edge of the bed and moved through the apartment far more calmly than you did. “This place is so damn thin-walled. I swear, if you two have sex, do it when I’m not home.”
“Thank you, Jill!” Somewhere between a brisk walk and a sprint, you hurried to the door and flung it open to peer into the hallway.
Leon stood outside your door, waiting patiently, glancing at his wristwatch just once – he was early, probably assuming you were still in the shower. This was the first time you saw him in civilian clothes. Casual, much like you: sneakers, jeans, a rainproof-looking jacket over a black sweatshirt.
“Leon!” you called out from Jill’s apartment door.
He turned at the sound of your cheerful voice, surprise flickering across his face as he shot another confused look at the door in front of him.
“Did I knock on the wrong door?” he asked, gesturing toward it.
You laughed, shaking your head. “No. I was just over at Jill’s. I expected you a bit later.”
“Hi, I’m Jill,” your neighbor and friend chimed in, poking her head into the hallway. She waved cheerfully at Leon.
“Hi, Leon,” he introduced himself in return.
“I knooow,” Jill replied, drawn out and mischievous.
“Thank you, Jill!” you repeated, shoving her back into her apartment.
You could hear her laughing as the door closed, and then you walked over to Leon.
“Sorry about that. Nice to see you.”
You weren’t entirely sure how to greet him, but a brief hug – which felt completely electric to you – came naturally enough. Leon’s hands rested briefly between your shoulder blades, a gentle pressure, and when you leaned closer, his cologne wrapped around you – pleasant, somehow smelling like… vanilla?
“Got something for you,” he announced proudly, rummaging in his jacket.
“That really wasn’t necessary,” you said – obligatory words, though you were already curious.
“Don’t mention it. I figured flowers were way too old-fashioned, so…” With that, he pulled a music cassette from his pocket. “It’s not a mixtape, but I thought – for your collection…” His expression was openly hopeful.
A pretty risky gift, considering you’d known each other for barely two days and he’d only seen exactly two of your mixtapes – not even listened to them. He’d asked a question or two about your taste in music here and there, but that had been about it.
“Thank you.” You took the cassette from him – the gesture alone was already more than charming. With relief, you realized you could genuinely be grateful, too. “Madonna – nice!” You hadn’t bought that album yet, too busy working on your mixtapes. Beaming, you looked up at Leon, who in turn seemed just as relieved that his gift had landed perfectly.
“Do you want to come in for a minute?” you offered. “I really wanted to show you the rock mixtapes I have.”
You stepped past him and unlocked your door, motioning him inside. He followed you into your apartment, curiosity written all over his face.
It wasn’t much, but it was a home. Similar in layout to Jill’s place, you lived in a single large room with a separate bathroom. A room divider split the living and sleeping areas, and an extra wall created a compact kitchenette.
“Can I offer you a glass of wine? You’ve got to take advantage of being off-duty – at least that’s what I always think.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Leon looked around your apartment until his gaze landed on your large cassette player, standing proudly on its own cabinet. Behind the glass doors, your tapes were lined up neatly, sorted by theme and year.
“Wow. That’s way more impressive than I imagined.” Leon bent down to study the cassette labels.
“Told you – they are many.”
You handed him a glass of white wine. You clinked glasses. You took a sip, then crouched down to pull out a cassette from the display.
“This should be… a lot of Queen. And Bon Jovi? Your jam, right?”
“Yeah,” Leon confirmed as you slid the cassette in. “Do you really make all of these yourself?”
“Weird?” you asked. You’d always enjoyed it – that had been the main thing, no matter what others thought. Most people usually found it pretty cool, though.
Leon proved that point immediately. “No! It’s really impressive.”
A soft laugh slipped from your lips. “I could never switch to CDs after the blood and tears I’ve poured into these.”
You pressed play. Instantly, the iconic opening of Bohemian Rhapsody filled the room.
“You should definitely keep the collection, even if you ever switch. Makes it cool and retro.”
“Hopefully much later retro,” you chuckled, taking another sip of wine, “so I don’t feel outdated too quickly. Hey, did you know the label originally wanted to cut the entire middle section of Bohemian Rhapsody? Because it was too long for the time.”
“Yeah, I knew that. Kinda unimaginable that Queen could’ve listened – and we wouldn’t be hearing the song the way it is today.” He looked at you, impressed. “You really know your music, huh?”
You shrugged evasively. “At least the music I care about.”
“How many more rock mixtapes do you have?” Leon asked – then exclaimed, “Hey, Livin’ on a Prayer!” His fingers tapped along the stem of his wineglass, his head bouncing lightly. If only he knew how wildly you’d danced to your personalized music alone in this apartment.
“Like… a lot.” You grinned at each other. “If you’re nice, we could listen to all of them.”
Leon looked at you with an unexpected sparkle in his eyes, his grin widening – and you realized that had sounded far more suggestive than you might’ve intended. Still, the thought of listening to mixtapes with him all night, maybe air-drumming together, laughing, sent a warm tingle down your spine.
“Well,” Leon drained his wine, “guess I’ll have to be extra nice, then.” He handed you his glass with a mischievous look. Making an effort to keep your cool, you smiled as confidently as you could and held his gaze. You set both glasses in the sink. Leon switched off the cassette player, and you headed out toward the movie theater.
“What kind of popcorn do you like?” you asked Leon while standing in line at the snack counter.
“I have a sweet tooth,” he replied.
“Perfect – me too. Want to share a bag?”
“Sure. I’ll get the large one for us. What do you want to drink?” He pulled out his wallet.
“Oh, Leon, you really don’t have to pay,” you protested.
“I want to.” He grinned at you. “Consider it a deposit for all the tapes I’m going to borrow from you on paperwork days – along with your Walkman.”
You couldn’t argue with that, so you let him order and pay. He pressed the large tub of popcorn into your hands, and you immediately started snacking. Leon, meanwhile, took a long pull from the straw of his coca cola.
“Are you also one of those people who starts demolishing the snacks before the movie even begins?” you asked, amused, helping yourself to another handful.
“Sure am. Best when it’s still fresh,” Leon grinned, stealing some popcorn for himself.
You made your way toward the theater.
“Hey, there’s one thing I’m still curious about,” you began, chewing thoughtfully.
“There are a lot of things I’m curious about when it comes to you,” Leon replied playfully – venturing pretty boldly into dangerous, HR-adjacent territory. Unfortunately for you, he was attractive enough that you didn’t really care.
“Bold, Mr. Kennedy,” you answered coyly, meeting, and holding, his gaze. It was alarmingly easy, and thrilling all at once, to look straight into his otherworldly beautiful eyes.
“I meant that collegially. Who knows what you were thinking,” he teased, nudging you lightly with his elbow, offering you an exit if you wanted one.
You didn’t.
“Oh, of course,” you grinned. “I was actually wondering why you specifically wanted to be stationed in Raccoon City. We were told before you arrived.”
You spent the time before the movie talking – about Raccoon City, the city’s cultural offerings, and your jobs. You did exactly what the Lieutenant had instructed and told Leon what he could expect: the team, the Lieutenant, the Sergeant, the work itself. Leon was eager as ever, listening closely, asking thoughtful follow-up questions, an all-around great conversationalist.
It made you start whispering little comments into his ear during the movie, which he quietly responded to in turn. Your faces were close from the very beginning – close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, smell his cologne more, and feel quietly pleased that you’d chosen a good perfume yourself.
You smiled together at the funny parts, whispered excitedly during the big plot twist, and rooted for Truman. The movie was good, but the real highlight was the chemistry with Leon – something you couldn’t have resisted even if you’d tried. Barely twenty minutes in, you were already wondering whether you should invite him for a nightcap afterward, or whether that would stretch this slowly growing bond too far.
Undecided, you reached into the popcorn again – and your fingers brushed. Your heart gave a startled leap. Instead of pulling his hand away, Leon let it linger – just as you did. Your fingers cautiously tangled together, as if neither of you was quite sure yet whether the other was truly interested.
Even though it had been obvious from the start.
Your eyes met in the darkness of the theater, your faces so close that your noses brushed with the motion alone. Scalding heat rushed to your face, blood roaring in your ears, your stomach tightening in a pleasant way. Leon’s eyes were wide, his expression just as nervous as yours probably looked.
Your fingers finally laced together over the popcorn. He shifted – just enough to turn toward you – and his other hand rose, fingers feather-light as they touched your chin. The contact felt like a passing breeze, careful, as though he was waiting at every tiny movement to see if you might pull away after all.
Your eyelids grew heavy as he leaned closer, your breaths mingling. Soft lips hovered over yours, so close but not quite there. An impatient pull urged you toward him, your heart screaming for him to kiss you already – or else you would.
Before you could act on it, Leon closed the remaining distance.
His kiss was exactly as gentle and soft as you’d imagined. Not consuming, not timid – just right. Reverent movements traced your mouth, energy you returned as you leaned into his space over the armrest, briefly aware of the awkward barrier between you before Leon’s quiet, satisfied hum against your lips soothed you.
The touch at your chin broadened. His hand flattened against your neck, tilting your head back as he leaned over the armrest and into you, coaxing you into melting into the kiss, letting his lips catch yours again and again without hesitation.
Now and then, your tongues brushed in the steadily intensifying connection, but neither of you claimed the depth your bodies craved – you were only taking the edge off. After all, this was still a movie theater, and there were people around you who could probably see you making out.
That thought gently pulled you back to reality. The movie itself had long faded into the background, Leon was all that mattered – but, well… situational awareness.
Leon kept your face cradled in his hand, your fingers still entwined, pulling back only far enough to look into your eyes. His were filled with affection – almost overwhelming for how short a time you’d known each other, yet somehow perfectly fitting. A satisfied smile played on his soft, beautiful lips as his thumb traced small paths along your jaw.
“Do we need to tell HR about this now?” he whispered.
You answered with a breathy laugh. “Maybe we should see where this goes first, huh?”
“Agreed.” A small extra kiss landed on your lips, sealing your entry into an exciting little secret phase. Somehow, it would all work out.
“Could you two take this elsewhere?!” a woman hissed from a few seats over, a wide-eyed child sitting beside her.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Leon whispered apologetically – though mischief colored his voice. You bit back a giggle.
Leon held your hand for the rest of the movie.
Dating Leon Kennedy turned out to be exactly what you’d hoped for from the straight-A rookie cop with golden hair, sea-blue eyes, and cheeky remarks always on his lips – and then some.
Over time, as you got to know Leon better, it became clear not only that your first impression of him as someone with a heart of gold had been spot-on, but that there was so much more tenderness beneath the surface – sometimes so much that it was hard to believe.
Leon was attentive and affectionate; had you not fallen for his nature so quickly, it might have felt overwhelming. Instead, the opposite happened: you felt incredibly comfortable around him in no time at all and were able to be completely yourself – music nerd and all.
Whenever you ran into each other at the West Office, he’d show up at your desk with at least a smile, sometimes with a snack from the vending machine down the hall. Despite your mutual agreement to keep things discreet, he never skipped the chance to chat you up and talk about work – mostly patrol duty – and you could hear just how much he loved it.
“What are you listening to today?” he’d ask you again and again.
You’d take a bite of your chocolate bar, deliberately take your time answering, then tease him with, “Guess.”
Leon would laugh. “Pop quizzes were never my strong suit.”
“Knew it – you definitely cheated at the academy,” you shot back cheerfully, handing him your Walkman and the headphones. That particular day, it was one of your ’70s mixtapes.
Right as Leon asked, The Buggles started playing.
Leon was also incredibly funny – corny funny – and honestly, you loved it. Whenever he cracked a joke that made you snort in disbelief, his face would light up, so you’d laugh a little harder just to see him grin. That was half the fun – watching him happily make a fool of himself just for you.
Especially when you played him a track that was very much not up his alley. You knew full well that Radio Killed the Radio Star was playing through the headphones, and yet Leon – being the absolute dork that he was – used the Walkman as a microphone, lip-syncing the chorus with impressively intense eye contact. You burst into embarrassed laughter, mostly because Rita was sitting right next to you.
“Stop it! Give it back,” you tried to stop him before he embarrassed himself any further.
“Nah. I’ll keep it. Got some paperwork to do.”
“Hey!”
Unfortunately, you couldn’t chase him through the office.
When your shifts didn’t line up, you often found small, hidden notes on your desk – under a folder, beneath a snack bag, or sometimes tucked beneath a mixtape he’d left you. They read things like:
“I like you in blue.” – a police joke.
“You look pretty today.” – he just knew.
“Can’t wait to see you tonight.”
And then there were the private moments with Leon. It didn’t take long to realize he was a gentleman through and through. He always made sure you weren’t cold when you were out, picked you up for dates, paid when you went out to eat.
He was even – maybe – a little too much of a gentleman.
And that made you feel just a little bit dirty.
For him, the obligatory three dates weren’t enough to earn an invitation to your place. He stretched it out, only asking on the fifth date whether he could come up for a coffee after dinner. You’d already looked up at him hopefully after the second date – and it had ended with nothing more than a heated goodnight kiss.
And then, late one evening, snow falling, he was in your apartment again – and was about to leave. Again.
“Leon, it’s snowing outside and we’re on the same shift tomorrow. You can stay. It’s cold out there,” you stopped him.
Leon smiled. “There’s a song about that.”
You rolled your eyes, amused. “I know. We could use the time to finally start on my tapes, right?”
He made a thoughtful sound before agreeing. Relieved, you smiled, watching him step closer, stopping in front of you, hands settling at your waist as he pulled you in and captured your lips.
Lying in a bed with Leon was everything you could have wished for – and not quite enough. Your late-night fantasies became reality: the apartment lit only by streetlights, a mixtape humming softly in the cassette player, the two of you either talking through each track or playing air instruments to it. He loved showering you with kisses, pulling you close, listening to the music with you.
In those moments, you always waited for a slower song to begin – something that set the right mood, something that gave you permission to press your lips to his. Every single time, he melted into the kiss instantly, leaving you with no doubt that he was drawn to you.
He pulled your body closer to his, enveloping you in his strong arms – trained, maintained for police work in the field, intoxicating enough that eventually you let your flat hand glide over his T-shirt, fingers splayed, feeling sharp contours and hard muscle beneath the fabric. You only made it harder for yourself, because Leon – whatever his reason – kept holding back. Maybe because he was a gentleman. Maybe because he was waiting for you to make the first move.
The theory seemed to check out when Leon didn’t stop you. Encouraged, you continued exploring his body, rewarded with a soft hum against your lips and fingers twitching at your side – innocent enough, but staying exactly where they were.
Gently, you toyed with the hem of his shirt, feeling the taut skin beneath, sensing goosebumps rise under your fingertips.
A hand found the hollow of your throat, drawing you closer with careful pressure. His tongue brushed softly over your bottom lip, asking for entry – and you granted it. Finally, you unraveled his restraint without a single word, guided only by feeling.
His abs flexed beneath your fingers; he shuddered. His chest was broad, comfortable – just as you already knew. Smoothly shaved, too. Your stomach clenched in anticipation as you wondered if he was shaved everywhere.
Carefully, as though the motion itself were a question, you tugged his shirt upward – and Leon didn’t waste another second before tearing it free, his skin flushed with heat, his heart hammering high in his throat.
When his mouth met yours again, there was hunger in his kiss.
That night, you would’ve bet everything that the two of you would finally go all the way – instead, things somehow turned out differently. You should have been glad he was taking it slow. With every meeting of your bodies, he went a little further, showing you again and again that he desired you – and that he wanted to truly know you beyond the physical.
By giving you everything – his fingers, his tongue, 69, the heaviest petting, orgasms that made you see stars – everything except his cock, never that final step – he slowly drove you a little bit crazy.
Despite how gentle and loving he always was, he never held back in what he did allow himself. He buried his face between your legs devotedly, his tongue finding a perfect rhythm with your body – firm and soft at exactly the right moments.
His fingers were precise, sliding deep inside you, finding every sensitive spot and assaulting them mercilessly, even when your body arched, when you whimpered and squirmed, followed by a bright, lingering moan as the wave crashed and dragged you under.
Oh yes – you returned the favor, as was only fair. During blowjobs, Leon alternated between full-body tension and moments of blissful relaxation, fingers tangled in your hair, whispering soft praise before his body seized with a tremor and he spilled into your mouth with a muffled sound.
He never went any further – until you simply couldn’t take it anymore.
He hovered over you, two fingers buried to the hilt inside you, attacking your sweet spot, pumping in and out before lingering in a slow, massaging rhythm. You clutched his broad upper arm for support, lips parted in search of air, squirming and moaning as you raced straight toward your orgasm. Your heart thundered in your ears, but Leon’s ragged breathing above you didn’t go unnoticed.
As always, Leon was turned on beyond reason by the sight of you – how you arched beneath his touch, body bending into perfect curves. After all this time spent indulging in each other, he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anyone. If you were to say the word, he would belong to you completely, lay everything he had at your feet. You knew that, didn’t you?
“Leon…” you moaned softly – your voice sweet enough that he could have come right then and there. Fuck, he was far too wound up. His cock was practically screaming at him, threatening combustion if he didn’t take you soon. Hard, achingly so, he pressed forward, every smallest brush against your smooth skin making the tip leak. He ignored the protest.
“I’m here, sweetheart. Let go,” he whispered, rewarded instantly by the way your walls closed around his fingers. He pressed his lips together to keep his own moan from slipping free, focusing entirely on you and your pleasure. His thumb settled gently over your swollen clit, circling slowly, feeling the twitch beneath his fingertip.
“Fuck, Leon, I’m coming,” you warned him as your stomach tightened deliciously, followed by the uncontrollable tremor of your body and an explosion blooming between your legs.
Bright and clear, like an angel on earth, you moaned into the night, your body arching toward his fingers. Leon, by now well-acquainted with your reactions, stilled his thrusting, keeping his fingers deep inside you, stroking the spot throbbing against him, drawing out your climax, gifting you every second of bliss you wanted.
You panted and swallowed, soothing your dry throat as you sank back into the sheets. Your vision cleared, your grip on Leon’s arm loosened, while he coaxed only small aftershocks from you now – his fingers still inside, barely moving.
Your eyes met his. His lids were half-closed, breath unsteady, as though he were the one who had just had a mind-shattering orgasm.
“Leon…” you breathed, lifting yourself to reach his lips.
The hand that had just carried you to the highest heights slid into your hair, holding you in place as your steaming breaths mingled, his tongue meeting yours, the kiss deep and charged, the vibrating energy between you aching for more.
“Leon, I – I want you so much,” you finally said aloud, giving voice to the words that had haunted you for what felt like an eternity.
He went still.
Before you could ask whether he didn’t want you – fully – he answered, cutting the thought off before it could take root, before you could think he wasn’t crazy about you.
“I want you, too.” Another kiss followed – shorter this time, but no less charged. He exhaled shakily. “It’s just – you’re insanely hot, and I am so ridiculously in love with you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
The weight of his words lingered in the air, grounding you both, pulling you far enough back from the edge of arousal that you could sink into a slow, reverent kiss. Leon cradled your face in his hands, and you felt it – felt the truth of him. He meant every word.
A quiet sound brushed your lips as he pulled back just an inch, murmuring against you, “Listen. Bon Jovi says it perfectly.”
“I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses / For tonight I sleep on a bed of nails / I wanna be just as close as the Holy Ghost is / And lay you down / On a bed of roses”
The soft music from the cassette player barely reached the bed.
You smiled. “Cheesy.”
“You know you love it.” He gave you a shy grin.
That grin faded into something more serious as you straightened, leaned over him, and pressed him into the plush pillows beneath you. Half sprawled on top of him, you smiled down with all the affection you felt in return.
“You can’t fuck it up, Leon. I’m in love with you, too.”
His blue eyes softened into something you could only describe as rapture – shot through with raw, unrestrained desire.
You lowered yourself closer, your voice sweet and heavy as poured honey. “What if I say please?”
He blinked, eyes widening. “What?” he asked, a nervous little laugh escaping him.
“I mean, please.” A kiss to his forehead. “Please.” One to the tip of his nose. “Please.” Then a lingering, sensual kiss to his lips, followed by a gentle nip. “Fuck me?”
You were acutely aware of the way his pupils dilated as he wrapped his arms around you – one firm across your lower back, the other running almost the full length of your spine, hands splayed almost possessively, desperate to touch as much of you as possible.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, overwhelmed. His cock twitched at full hardness, demanding and no longer willing to be ignored.
With one swift movement, Leon rolled your surprised, laughing self onto your back and came down on top of you, arms and legs tangling together. Finally, his entire naked body lay against yours, and he wondered why he’d held himself back for so long. You were soft in all the right places and firm where police work had shaped you. Your curves fit him perfectly, and he drank in your scent. He needed you – desperately. He only hoped he’d last longer than two minutes.
Your legs parted willingly for him, and he could hardly believe his luck. If someone had told him that requesting assignment in Raccoon City would lead to this, he never would’ve believed them.
“Is this really okay?” Leon asked, unsure what he’d do if you said no. His hand had already slid between you, along his eagerly twitching cock, aching to align with your warmth.
“More than okay,” you smiled back, tender and certain.
Not just more than okay – necessary. Damn it, you were in love with him too: his dorky self, his beautiful face, the way he paid attention. This was just the cherry on top of what you hoped would continue to be a wonderful relationship.
When Leon eased himself into you, there was no resistance – you were more than ready for him. It almost amazed him, though everything about you already did. Your hot, silken walls welcomed him like home after a long journey. He buried his face in your neck, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a moan. A low grunt slipped out anyway.
He gave you both a moment to adjust, pressing his body to yours, scattering hot kisses along your neck, chin, cheek, mouth, murmuring devotion between them.
“You feel like heaven.”
“You’re wonderful.”
“The best girl ever.”
“My girl.”
The words flowed through you like your favorite music. A soft gasp left you as he thrust for the first time.
“Leon…” you whispered.
“How do you like it, baby?” he asked, braced on his hands, his hair framing his face, partially shadowing his devoted eyes. “Like this?”
Another roll of his hips had you clutching at his arms for support.
“Deeper,” you breathed.
He obliged, sinking further, finding that perfect spot that made your eyes roll back.
“Harder.”
Leon absorbed every bit of feedback – the words, but especially your body: the way air left you with every thrust; the way your eyes fluttered shut; the way your breathing grew short and frantic, matching his own.
A particularly heavy exhale tore from him as your velvety walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper into the heaven that was you. The sound that slipped from your beautiful lips overwhelmed his senses twice over.
He focused on keeping the rhythm just right – not too fast, not too slow – hitting that spot inside you again and again, the one he could already find so easily with his fingers. Your reward came in the form of growing throbs around him and your voice, begging him to keep going.
How he lasted as long as he did would forever be a mystery to Leon. His cock felt raw, on fire, every nerve screaming – but he kept going, flinging you both beyond reality, where there was only him, you, your connection, and the sounds you made together.
Wet and slick, they echoed from wall to wall, filling the room – the steady in-and-out of his him easier than anything he had ever known. Everything was hot and soaked and warm, and he never wanted to leave.
Neither of you noticed when his body finally collapsed against yours, his face buried between your neck and the pillow, hot, ragged breath against your skin, bodies grinding together, sweaty and slippery everywhere.
You clung to him with arms and legs, ankles crossed behind his back, giving him everything your exhausted body had left. His breath caught at the same moment his hips faltered. Deep in his cock, he knew there was no turning back – his movements grew frantic, breath short.
“I’m about to come,” he warned, pleasure cresting, pooling –
You barely had time to moan your consent before he erupted.
Leon’s body shuddered as everything he’d been holding back – nothing his own hand had ever soothed – spilled into you, hot and all-consuming.
“Shit – sorry,” he gasped as his climax was still in the process of fading, his body continuing to give a few helpless thrusts.
You both struggled for air, but that didn’t stop you from stealing even more from each other in a long, lingering kiss.
“What do you mean?” you said softly. “It was amazing.”
“That – that it was. God. You are amazing.”
He peppered your face with kisses until you scrunched your nose, laughing at the ticklish sensation.
“Let me get you a towel,” Leon offered, slipping away to fetch one and clean you up properly.
Curled into Leon’s body, sheltered by his arms, you breathed him in with your eyes closed. His hand traced lazy, comforting paths along your back, his chin resting atop your head. The cassette player drifted back into focus, now playing Bryan Adams’ iconic rock ballad – perfect timing, perfect mixtape.
“Baby, you’re all that I want / When you’re lyin’ here in my arms / I’m findin’ it hard to believe / We’re in heaven”
A kiss landed on the top of your head.
“So,” he murmured softly, “should we tell HR now?”
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