Hi everyone! Here you'll find a complete list of all the imagines/fics/etc. that I've written. I've organized it in a way that I think makes it easy to find my works for different fandoms. I hope you find something you'll enjoy <3
Last Updated: 9/3/25
Total Works: 25
Currently Writing
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☆ Celebrities ☆
Shawn Mendes:
White Christmas - in preparation for christmas eve dinner with shawn’s family, y/n makes her famous christmas cookies. when shawn offers to help it leads to a mix of ingredients y/n wasn’t quite expecting and a night full of memories (watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2021)
New Year’s Nightmare (CEO!Shawn) - new year's eve quickly takes a turn when y/n has a run in with a mystery man. after thinking she'll never see him again, one thing leads to another and suddenly she's trapped in an elevator with him during one of the biggest nights of the year
Luke Hemmings:
Here For You - when y/n notices luke drifting away from her, she decides to confront him on it. luke’s response leads to shock and a whole lot of heartache (goldensonlyangel 1k celebration)
Double Life (GangMember!Luke) - when y/n comes home early, she has a run in with her longterm boyfriend that leaves her questioning everything and wondering who exactly it is she’s in a relationship with (requested)
Timothée Chalamet:
Academy Attraction - it’s the oscar’s and once timothée and y/n spot each other on the red carpet, their attraction to each other is visibly undeniable, leading to a night full of awards in more ways than one
Austin Butler:
Gorgeous - after meeting austin at a party, y/n is left with a desirable impression and immediately writes a song about it. set to perform at the cannes elvis premiere after party, y/n takes the opportunity to let her true feelings be known. based off the song gorgeous by taylor swift
Invisible String - y/n and austin have known each other for years. each harbors feelings for the other yet they remain clueless to it until an accidental slip up from austin leads to a series of events that reveals just how destined for each other they've always been (requested)
In Sickness and in Health - when y/n wakes up sick in the middle of the night, austin does everything he can to make sure she feels better
Sweet Nothing - noticing y/n’s struggle to come up with a final song for her new album, austin offers his help which leads to a trip down memory lane and a whole lot of sweet nothing. based off the song sweet nothing by taylor swift (requested)
Flowers - after making a quick run to the store, austin comes home with a surprise for his favorite girl in the world (requested)
Birthday Blues - noticing her struggle with the loss and memory of her brother on his birthday, austin helps and comforts y/n with the celebration of his special day (requested)
Just Breathe - when attending the premiere of 'Elvis', y/n suddenly suffers a panic attack. seeing his girlfriend in distress, austin's there to make sure she's okay and that she knows she's not alone (requested)
Joe Burrow:
I Smell Snow - the first cincinnati snowfall of the season leads to a night full of magic and love
Die with a Smile - y/n and joe attend a prestigious gala where they share a tender moment out on the dance floor together
☆ Content Creators/In-Game Characters ☆
Dream:
Comfort (CC!Dream) - when dream is organizing the gifts from his subscribers, he becomes emotional and reflects on the past couple of weeks. y/n is there to comfort and assure him of his importance
Love Story (CC!Dream) - when taylor swift drops her rerecorded song ‘love story’, y/n and dream are excited and decide to stay up for the release. y/n thinks it’s just an ordinary night full of one of their favorite songs, yet dream has other plans in store for them
A Promise (SMP!Dream) - the smp is in shambles. tensions are high in the wake of tommy's death. y/n is still struggling with everything that happened with dream and wishes life could go back to what it used to be before everyone was hungry for power. y/n thinks of the promise dream made to them, and is oblivious to the fact dream intends on keeping it
☆ The Carrie Diaries ☆
Sebastian Kydd:
Alone - when delivering her annual thanksgiving tradition cookies, y/n discovers just how alone sebastian has been feeling, and she’s determined to help fix that
☆ Outer Banks ☆
JJ Maybank:
Nowhere Else to Go - during a storm, y/n discovers jj’s dealing with a lot more than he led on. in a mix of thunder and lighting, a whole lot of secrets and feelings are revealed
I’ve Got You - struggling with financial burdens, y/n starts to crumble under the pressure. jj notices the girl he loves is hard on her luck, so he does everything he can to help fix it (requested)
☆ Stranger Things ☆
Steve Harrington:
Dance With Me - while at a school dance, y/n struggles to enjoy herself. seeking comfort and solitude she wanders the school in hopes to clear her mind. what she doesn’t expect is to run into the guy who’s been occupying her thoughts, and to make a connection with him she’s only ever dreamed of
☆ Aliens in the Attic ☆
Jake Pearson:
Against All Odds - while on vacation with her best friends’ family, y/n gets a lot more than she bargained for when she encounters both love and…aliens!? (requested)
☆ Awake ☆
Clay Beresford:
•Heart to Heart - after crossing paths and connecting with new york’s most well known businessman, you end up in a whirlwind situation that’ll change your life forever
☆ Harry Potter Universe ☆
Dramione:
Rapunzel - stuck with the inability to meet with her boyfriend face to face on her own, hermione enlists the help of her best friend to get her there. meanwhile, stuck in a meeting of star-crossed lovers and nothing better to do, harry has a few quips for draco up his sleeve
☆ DC Universe ☆
Superman/Clark Kent:
Should’ve Said It - after having a fight at work with your boyfriend, clark, you go to his apartment in hopes of making amends. what you don't expect is to find out he's been keeping a big secret from you, leaving you with a mix of emotions
a mission goes awry when you're infected with a fever virus...and there's only one way to cure you.
warnings: smut, fem!reader, sometime after re4!leon, sex pollen (kind of), possible dubious consent 'cause it's fuck or die but really everyone here wants to be there and consents heartily, feelings realization, confessions, desperate sex turned tender sex, dry humping, fingering, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), leon kennedy one liners, canon-typical violence, a few sneaky references to other re games/movies, fake science i made up
a/n: picture your favorite leon for this. it was just sex pollen but became lots of plot with sex pollen and mush in the second half. what can i say, i'm a lover at heart. just like leon!
--
It starts with bad intel.
The facility is supposed to be abandoned. No bio signatures on the initial recon scan, no movement from hostiles after an extended stakeout, nothing. An abandoned underground lab for an experimental arm of Umbrella, potentially full of important documents on bioweapons research.
Your mission is to gather as much information as possible, should any of the viruses created there pop up on the black market or worse.
Easy, compared to the shit you're usually assigned.
Leon agrees.
Well, you think he agrees. He treats every mission as seriously as the last. You've grown to appreciate his consistency. It makes him easy to trust, which is essential in this line of work.
He's the best partner you've ever had. Thorough, direct, and smart. He never questions your abilities and relies on you just as much as you rely on him.
And, god. He's kind. Funny, too, when he wants to be. One time on a weeklong stakeout in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, he explained to you, in detail, the plot of The Count of Monte Cristo, all because you said you'd never read it. You hadn't even known he liked to read.
He's hard to crack, though. Professional to a fault, more dedicated to the cause than anyone you've ever met. And he's handsome.
How could you not fall in love with him?
You keep your ever-growing feelings to yourself. Asking him if he feels the same isn't worth ruining your partnership, isn't worth being someone else who wants something from him that he maybe can't give. Not when you can have him this way -- at your side with your life in his hands, his in yours.
In some ways, this is more intimate than any regular relationship you've ever had.
You'd spent the chopper ride here watching him as he looked out the window, even though you knew he felt your gaze. He's always doing that, always taking in everything around him with militant attention. You wonder what he sees that most people don't. Connections, patterns, maybe even beauty. You've never asked. Whatever it is has kept him alive this long. It's kept you alive, too.
And so, the mission.
You drop from a very long hatch into dark, stale air. The ladder leaves your hands aching and your shoulders tight, but there's no time for recovery.
Training takes over. Leon leads, with you at his right flank. Flashlights on, service weapon at the ready.
"Stay sharp," he says.
Sometimes you tease him about it, his constant readiness for a threat. But you feel it this time. Something's not right here, scans be damned.
Flecks of dust and grime float through your bright beams. The corridor ends maybe 15 meters in front of you in a set of metal doors, no windows. The security pad on the left side blinks a dull red.
"Emergency power," you say.
It was in the brief as a possibility but not a guarantee. Leon approaches, and you follow, digging into one of your belt pockets for the access card some other agent had to steal last week for this purpose.
"You want to do the honors?" you ask.
Leon shakes his head. "Be my guest."
The red light blinks green with a hover of your hand, and the unlocking mechanisms creak to life. The doors open slowly with a hiss. You're greeted with a dark lobby, dull yellowish lights lining the base of the walls.
"Must be on throughout," Leon says. Sometimes these places are zoned, or some other needlessly complicated system of power distribution. "Hopefully that means doors will keep opening."
He's still tense, arms outstretched to shine his light into the new space, shoulders taut. You feel it too, a prickle at the base of your neck.
"If not, I'm sure the power systems will be super easy to find with no issues," you say lightly.
He huffs, as close to a laugh as you can hope for at the start of a mission, but it's a win.
"Ready?" he asks.
You dip your chin. He glides into the room, clearing one side as you clear the other. There aren't any signs of disturbance, but that's how it goes with these places. The closer you get to the exit, the more normal it seems -- because all of the horrible things happen behind closed doors.
And no one makes it out.
"Clear," Leon calls. You echo it.
There are two single doors that reveal a bathroom hallway and the security office, as well as a set of double doors that resemble the locked entrance, another keypad glowing red at one side. Leon finds a map of the facility in the office and spreads it on the desk.
"That locked door will take us to an elevator that goes down to the labs," he says, tracing the path with a finger under the beam of his flashlight. "Three of them, all on different levels, connected by staircases instead of the elevator shaft, only accessible by keycard and on the other side of an anti-contamination corridor."
"Isolated," you observe. "In case of an outbreak?"
"It's bare bones compared to the other Umbrella stuff we've seen. This must be really out-there shit. Less resources, less of a footprint, less of an issue when it goes wrong."
You try to commit the map to memory. Leon will undoubtedly fold it into one of his pockets, but it's hard to consult a piece of paper when you're running from a B.O.W..
"Greek," Leon mutters. "More creative than T-virus, that's for sure."
This is just like him, surprising you after countless missions as your partner.
"Do you speak Greek, Leon?"
He shrugs.
"Not really." He tightens the strap on his glove, a cue that he's frustrated. You know most of his tells by now. "I don't know the last one. Fire, maybe?"
"Not really, he says," you tease. "What else are you hiding, Kennedy?"
He rolls his eyes at you, but if the lights were on, you're sure you'd see some pink in his cheeks. Battle-hardened agent he may be, Leon S. Kennedy still blushes for you.
If only...
No. You swallow the pang in your chest and roll your shoulders. "Start with B1 and go down, then loop back up?"
It wouldn't be out of the question to divide and conquer, but the slimy unease dripping down your spine prevents you from suggesting it.
He grunts his agreement, eyes still on the map, frowning.
As a pair, you work so well together because of your communication. It took practice, sure, but now you know each other across a crowded room, through the heat of a fight, in the dark. You don't let things go unsaid.
Well, most things, your traitorous heart says.
"Leon," you say. "It feels off, right? We're missing something."
Blue eyes meet yours. He sighs.
"Yeah," he says. "Guess we just have to find out what."
You can't help it -- you put your hand on his bicep and squeeze just a little, holding his gaze. His fringe hangs in his eyes. In another life, you'd push it back.
"Be careful, okay?" you ask him, faces so close you can feel his breath.
Leon got shot on your second ever mission together. It was a clean wound, through and through, except for the fact that he'd already been shot in that shoulder back in Raccoon City. The bullet fucked up the already fragile joint, so he needed surgery and was benched for six weeks (he was back at your side in four).
There was nothing you could have done. It was nobody's fault. But you felt responsible for waylaying your new partner, who was one of the most well-known agents in the whole damn place, so you went to see him in the hospital to alleviate your guilt.
"They have you with anyone while I'm out?" he asked you.
They did, actually, but hadn't told you who. Leon was troubled by it.
"Well, be careful," he said, as if he didn't trust anyone else to watch your back, even then.
"Only as careful as you," you replied, pointing at his shoulder.
That was the first time you made Leon Kennedy laugh.
Now, it's something you say to each other in the field. A mantra, a reminder, a promise.
Leon gives you a small smile.
"Only as careful as you," he replies, like he always does. We keep each other safe.
You release him and busy your hand at your belt immediately, god forbid you touch him more.
He rolls his shoulders back and checks the chamber of his sidearm.
"Into the depths, huh?"
"Into the depths."
--
Level B1: MENIS
The elevator opens to a dead contamination chamber. Nothing happens as you walk through the three zones where you'd expect to be scanned, doused, and dried. Another set of metal doors opens with a hiss when you tap the keycard. The smell of death hits your nose and makes your eyes water.
There are at least 10 bodies piled on the other side, most of them in pieces.
"Fuck," you curse, sidestepping a caved-in head.
"Looks like the party started without us," Leon says quietly.
"Great," you mutter. "God, that's nasty."
There aren't any claw marks or avid stains or other tell-tale signs of B.O.W.'s you see with this caliber of violence. One look at Leon and you know he's realized the same thing. You tilt your head down the hall. He nods, following your lead deeper into the floor.
Red emergency lights pulse along the base of the walls, illuminating the blood splattered pretty much everywhere. You pass the occasional corpse, most of them so horribly disfigured it's hard to tell if they were staff or test subjects or something else.
There are so many things you want to say, but you keep them to yourself until Leon leads you to the floor's main office. You slide in but don't relax.
"They look like they were torn apart," you say as soon as the door is closed. Leon frowns at you, since you didn't clear the room first, but it's a square office. You can see all the corners from where you're standing.
"I know," he replies. "But no sign of what did it."
You sigh. "So, are you going to tell Hunnigan the location survey was wrong, or should I?"
"I think I've run out of my 'bad news' calls for the year," he says. "That one's all yours once we get topside."
"How generous of you."
Leon smirks. "I'm a giver."
The office is small and the computers are dead. There are papers scattered around, so you divide and conquer.
You find an official logbook. Mostly in-the-weeds science stuff, but you skim until you find a change in handwriting.
LOG #57:
Development continues under new staff. Blood transmission remains the only method that carries enough sample to infect a host; airborne tests were unsuccessful. Vaccine/suppressant formulas abandoned for the time being after we were told that our subject supply would be steady. B2 wants to set one of theirs against one of ours, which seems pointless because any B1 subject will win that fight. B3 is a joke, but they're insistent that it'll work.
No vaccine...that's not good news. But what were they actually testing here? Infecting people with what?
You flip more pages until you find something that makes your blood run cold.
LOG #63:
We've finally gotten a host to survive. B2 and B3 are nowhere near this. We won't be sharing. Their subjects die within hours. B3 is practically useless, anyway. What use is controlling people if they die on you in an hour? But here, we've cracked it. I managed to figure out how to get the virus to work with the host's adrenaline production, stabilizing it into a constant state of fight or flight without short-circuiting the nervous system. If this batch survives the week, we'll ask permission to start on the suppressant. Once we have that, we'll be able to control the whole herd. The future of hostile takeover is here! Now, if only they'd let us out of this fucking dungeon more often…
Holy shit. They were making viruses to infect large populations, to control them. But using what? Changing their brain chemicals, making them reliant on suppressants? Leon told you about this kind of manipulation, how it infiltrated a military unit and even made its way to the White House a few years ago. Who knows how far they got this time?
"Leon," you call, turning with the folder in your hands. "You should look at this --"
You make eye contact and fall silent. He's got his finger over his lips and his gun at the ready.
You toss the papers aside and take your place on the other side of the door.
That's when you hear it.
Groans, grunts, screams. Footsteps -- a lot of them.
He holds your gaze.
Clear the chokepoint, get into the lab rooms down the hall around the corner, make for the stairwell on the other side of the floor.
That's what you'd do, so you know it's what he's thinking, too. No confirmation needed.
The door bursts open. You duck, missing the arms reaching for your neck. It's dark in here, but you rely on muscle memory and gravity to sweep the zombie's legs out from under it and stomp on its head while you fire at the next one.
The attackers are -- well, they look mostly human. But their eyes are wild, blood running down their faces like tears, pink foam and spit dripping from their mouths.
Leon's movements are sharp and decisive. Headshot, parry, twist. Uppercut, knee sweep, headshot. He occupies the air around you like he's magnetized to your movements, always filling the space where you aren't, ceding room when you need it. After hours upon hours of mat practice between the two of you and hundreds of field opportunities to master it, you work together like a well-oiled machine.
It's exhilarating.
You're forced back from the door, but you keep firing, slicing, covering each other. It's essential that you get into the hall sooner rather than later to avoid being trapped in this room.
A zombie rips the arm off another in its attempt to get to you. That's new.
"What the fuck were they doing with this shit?" Leon grunts. He's splattered with blood now. No doubt you are too.
"That's what I was going to tell you before our party of two got crashed," you say between shots.
"They wanted to control people."
"Yeah, this sure looks like control to me!"
"We have to clear it or we'll have to fight through on our way back up."
Leon grunts his agreement. "They're not biting." His aim is true, as always. He downs two, three, four infected. "They just want to rip us apart!"
"We need to go into the hall. Cover me," you say, dodging bloody fingers and sliding through the door. "Switching weapons!"
Your assault rifle is strapped to your back. You holster your pistol and reach around for it, but something catches your jacket and pulls.
The fabric tears. For a split second, you worry your flesh will be next, but then the tug disappears. Leon grunts and he breaks the neck of whatever had you.
You keep your gaze on the approaching pack, maybe 10 or 15 strong. Leon keeps taking them down while you holster your pistol and check the new cartridge.
"Gonna need to reload in a second here," he calls. "Six left. Five. Four --"
"Ready," you shout. Leon stabs a zombie in the neck and walks behind it, using it as a wall against reaching fingers until he's at your side again. He tears his knife free and slides beside you, solid, ready.
You open fire.
That's all it takes. The hallway is soon empty and bloodier than before. All you can hear is your combined panting.
Leon lowers his gun. "Nice job," he says.
You drop yours, too. "What was this floor called again? Menace?"
"Basically," he says, slamming in a new clip. "Divine wrath or anger."
"No shit." You look down at the tear in your jacket. "God damnit, this is my favorite."
Leon checks his chamber. "I'll get you a new one," he says.
You laugh. He almost smiles, like that was his goal all along.
The rest of the floor is mostly clear. A few stragglers here and there, but they're no match for the two of you. The containment chambers seem to be where the infected gathered in the months since this facility went dark -- the walls are covered in scratch marks.
"I can't believe they didn't kill each other," Leon says with mild disgust. "Not having control of yourself like that...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
You've read the report from Spain. He knows how it feels.
"Do you think they're aware?" you wonder aloud.
He looks so sad for a moment that you almost reach for him. "I hope not."
--
Level B2: KAMATOS
The stairwell is a mess. The door to B2 is barricaded, but you manage to get through after slamming your shoulders against it over and over.
This floor is quiet, but in a different way than upstairs. Years of field-trained instincts tell you there's nothing left alive on this floor. That, and it made a hell of a lot of noise getting the door open, and nothing popped out.
It's dustier down here, like things have been still for longer.
"What's this one mean?" you ask. "This virus."
"Extreme fatigue," Leon tells you.
"So if they controlled adrenaline levels on the first floor to make them angry, they're depriving people of sleep on this floor?"
He shrugs. "Maybe they found a way to keep the brain awake without killing it."
They did not.
The documents you find suggest the virus was a failure. The bodies you find confirm it. Hosts died from heart failure, self-inflicted wounds, a number of things, no matter what the scientists did to keep the mind from giving up. All by depriving them of sleep.
Being so tired that you see no other way out…
The horror of it all rises in your throat. You leave Leon with the corpses so you can press your forehead to the cool hallway wall.
This job asks a lot of you. Your time, your well-being. Your security, your personal relationships, your hobbies. It's overwhelming and can bury a person. The things you see, the things you do -- it gets to you. It’s easy to shove it down, to pretend like you're untouchable, but that's no way to live, either.
Sometimes you just have to feel it.
These poor people.
Leon's hand is light on your shoulder. Not patronizing, not rushing, just there. Warm, solid.
You take a deep breath, then stand up straight.
"Let's take a quick break before the last floor," Leon says.
"I'm fine."
You turn to face him, but he's already crouching, back against the wall.
He grins, a real smile this time. It makes him look younger. "Who said it was for you?"
It's like he's giving you permission to put it all down for a second. To forget where you are, why you're there, what you're doing. Leon's guard is rarely fully down, and right now he's telling you that he's got you. Rest for a second, I'll take care of us.
He's proven to you over and over that he will.
So you smile back, shaky but genuine. "Getting old, Kennedy?"
"Something like that." He looks up at you, grin softening into something fond. "Do you remember Greece?"
You slide down the wall to his level. "Do I remember Greece? Be serious. How could I forget --"
"All those stairs," Leon finishes. "Exactly."
It was last year in the height of summer. A small, sleepy cliffside town, except for the fact that a scummy billionaire moved into the monastery and started developing B.O.W.'s in the catacombs.
The town was evacuated. You were sent in to apprehend the guy and secure whatever virus he was using. It turned into three days of running up and down stone staircases away from bats with tentacles and lizards with thousands of teeth where you wouldn't expect teeth to be.
Over the course of your partnership, you've seen each other in all states, but you've never seen Leon as exhausted as he was after that mission.
"I thought I was going to have to carry you to the rendezvous point," you remind him. "You fell down so many stairs."
Leon rubs his knees as if remembering the way they smacked stone over and over.
"And you would have," he says.
He catches your gaze and holds it. He's reminding you that you're in this together. That he trusts you, something you do not take lightly. It's hard to know who you can trust in this job, even your very own employer, but he never doubts you. You never doubt him.
The familiar ache of everything you feel for him sits warm and heavy on your chest. He's the best man you've ever known.
"I would have," you say.
Leon dips his chin, his mouth curling into a smaller smile than before, but this one is just as fond.
"We should go back," you say without meaning to.
It surprises him, but he hides it well.
"That would be nice," he muses. "I don't know the last time I took a vacation."
"We could go to the beach," you continue. It's scarily easy to imagine -- Leon in swim trunks, cheeks pink from the sun. "Stay at the bottom of the stairs and not walk up a single one."
"But you liked the monastery," he reminds you. "We'd have to go back up to see the windows."
Of course he remembers how you'd looked up in awe at the stained glass, gun in your hand and blood on your face.
"I'll climb up by myself. You can relax."
Leon sighs. "Relax," he says. "I don't even know if I know how to do that."
"You're good at everything," you say. "You'll pick it up in no time."
Whatever game this is, you're having too much fun playing it. Leon doesn't lie to you, so while he might be indulging you, there's a part of him that means all of this. He has to know that you mean it, too.
He stands and offers you his hand.
"One more floor," he says. "Then we can go to Greece."
--
Level B3: PYRETOS
The hit comes out of nowhere.
Maybe you're distracted by talk of vacation, or your guard is down after the silence of B2, but you don't see it coming. One second you're rounding the corner, the next you're flying backwards through glass, back slamming against a cabinet. You land heavily on the ground, more glass and something wet raining down on you.
Leon yells your name.
You try to catch your breath, but it's stuck in your chest. He's still calling for you in between gunshots.
"Fuck," you croak, finally finding air. You roll onto your side. Glass crunches under your weight as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.
Everything hurts, but you try to shake it off and push up to standing. Leon hauls himself through the broken window. He begins to clear the room after he sees you on your feet.
"Clear. That was one ugly son of a bitch," he says. "Must have gotten down here from upstairs."
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.
Something isn't right.
Your skin feels tight, like you already went on vacation and got burned to a crisp. Your pulse won't slow. Deep breaths feel impossible. Strangest of all, it's almost like –
Well, your core is buzzing. You press your legs together and try not to panic.
In the early days, after Leon got shot but well before Greece, you hid an injury from him.
You took a knife to the ribs during a fight. It wasn't too deep, but it was wide and bleeding steadily. Adrenaline allowed you to get through it. You figured you could patch yourself up the next time you slowed. But Leon pushed on ahead, and you followed without saying anything.
That is, until you left a bloody handprint on a door. He stopped immediately.
"Is that yours?" he said. "Where are you hurt?"
"It's nothing," you protested. But Leon S. Kennedy does not give up easily.
"Show me," he said, pulling out bandages from his hip pouch. "When did this happen?"
"I'm not compromised," you said, even as you lifted your jacket to show him.
"I know you aren't," he said. "I want to know when you're hurt so I can make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine," you said weakly. He patched you up quickly and thoroughly.
"We're partners," he told you. "We have to help each other."
Here, now, you don’t hide from him.
"Leon," you croak. "Something's wrong. I think I --"
He's at your side in an instant, so close your breath hitches. Why are you so affected by him? Why are you so warm?
"The rip in your jacket," Leon says. "Your arm is bleeding."
"Liquid," you gasp. "It felt wet when I hit the cabinet."
The pieces come together. Shattered vials at your feet, an empty cabinet behind you. The dull red emergency lights make it hard to tell what color the puddle is, but you know it can't be good.
"They wouldn't keep a virus out in the open, would they?" you ask weakly. You're shaking now, shivering even though you don't feel cold.
"Fever," he breathes. "Pyretos. It means fever."
You've rarely seen Leon afraid. He's human, so it happens, but normally he faces things head-on without complaint.
Right now, he looks terrified. That scares you more than anything.
"Leon," you whisper. "What do we do?"
He snaps into action. He hands you a roll of bandages.
"Wrap it," he says. He presses a few buttons on his watch until it beeps. Setting a timer, no doubt. Just in case. "How do you feel? Describe it to me."
"Feverish," you say. "But not dizzy. I can think clearly."
Leon starts to dig around the lab, tearing open drawers and rifling through what he finds. The office on this floor wasn't in the same place as the other two, so any information must be in here, right?
"What else?"
You follow his lead, desperately searching for anything helpful. How do you explain the fact that your entire body is pulsing with a very specific kind of need? It scares you, feeling this out of control physically while also being in your right mind.
You land on achey. The buzzing under your skin gets worse every minute you spend looking and finding fuck all.
"There's nothing here," he says, frustrated. "Shit."
You're thinking the same thing: no vaccines. Any hope for you is in this lab.
But then -- your eye catches on a cabinet sitting on deep grooves in the floor.
"There's a door," you tell him, already heading for it. A wave of need hits you so suddenly that you have to brace yourself on the wall to catch your breath. Leon brushes by you. The slight contact has you swallowing a moan.
Jesus Christ.
He shoves the cabinet aside. Behind it is a door that opens into the lab office, as dark as the others.
You follow him in and start searching the shelves. Leon drags a table into the perfect place to effectively barricade you in.
"We don't have time to be interrupted right now," he says. He starts searching the desk.
You're sweating now. If this thing is going to turn you, Leon can't be here for it. You don't want him to see it. "Maybe you should go back to the surface --"
"I'm not leaving you," he interrupts. It's sharp, final.
"But if I turn--"
Leon whirls around. "I'm not leaving you," he says again.
Your nose stings. It's not the rational choice, but it's the Leon Kennedy choice. You can't help but be grateful for it.
He returns to the papers. Everywhere your clothing touches your skin feels heavy, almost painful. Your skin is sensitive, your throat dry, breath still fast.
You're so turned on, you think you might explode. It's all you can do to just stand there and try to keep it together.
"I found something," Leon says. He says nothing else. It's hard to see his expression in the dark without being close to him. You don't know if you can handle that right now.
"Bad news, doc?"
He swallows and begins to read.
"In an effort to bend the subject to commands, a fever is introduced via the bloodstream that increases testosterone and dopamine to near-unbearable levels of arousal. We have successfully altered the balance to allow the mind to be unaffected, making the reaction purely physical. The fever, if detected and combated within 1 hour, can be reduced by repeated bursts of oxytocin until the subject's internal temperature returns to normal. Required oxytocin levels seem to vary by subject; no pattern discernible at this time."
"What the fuck does that mean?" you pant. Your skin feels too tight. You still can't take a full breath. Control is becoming a missed opportunity. "Do I have a sex fever?"
No answer.
"Leon."
He exhales sharply.
"I think you need to be touched," he says. "To release the chemical that will help you fight this on your own."
Your responding laugh edges on hysterical.
"I do have a sex fever. So, what, you're going to hug me and hope I don't die?"
"I could," he says. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just don't think it'll be enough. This says bursts, and a lot of them. The best way to trigger that kind of response is --"
It clicks in your mind.
"Orgasm," you whisper. "Oh, god."
Leon closes his eyes for a second too long.
"I don't know what to do," he admits. He looks at his watch. "It's been 10 minutes. I don't know what--"
"I'm so sorry," you breathe. The gravity of your situation is like a bucket of cold water. If only it actually made you feel cold. You have to fuck your partner or die. What kind of sick joke is this? "Leon, I'm so sorry. You don't have to do anything, this is my fault --"
He tosses the file onto the table.
"I'm not going to let you die," he says with all his usual conviction. He really believes it, and it makes it easier for you to believe it, too. "Not when there's something I can do about it."
"But not like this," you croak. "This is --"
"I know."
God, you wish the lights were on. You want to see every detail of his face to discern what he's feeling. Can you ask him to do this? Will it ruin everything forever?
A tremor wracks through you. You have to brace yourself on the desk.
He yanks open drawers until he finds a thermometer. It beeps alive, somehow, and he holds it up to your forehead.
"Shit," he mutters.
"What?"
Leon flips the device to show you the screen. 103.2.
"Shit," you echo.
Your brain is going to cook in your skull sooner rather than later. You swallow frustrated tears along with your pride.
"I'm so wet," you whisper. It's the lewdest thing you've ever said to him. "I can feel it."
Leon inhales sharply, standing ever-so-still just next to you, just out of reach.
The pain radiates through you, molten lava in your veins. It's strange to be able to think so clearly. You want Leon as badly as you always do. That's bearable. But the pain. The heat. It's something else, something all-consuming.
You need him to touch you.
"Please don't make me beg," you whimper, turning towards him.
"Jesus," he mutters, filling the space you make for him. His hands find your face. You groan. The contact is like a balm, even through his gloves.
"Oh god."
You nuzzle into his palms. It's like you can feel the battle in your blood, the virus doing its best to cook you from the inside out, but Leon's touch is giving you a foothold, a reprieve.
If it wasn't so awful, you'd laugh at the idea that you're so horny you might die.
"Whatever you need, I'll do," he says. His voice is already hoarse. "But just -- you have to tell me if it's not okay. And I'll stop. We'll figure something else out."
You lean back on the desk and grab his elbows. You've touched plenty, but never like this. Never loaded with all of the unspoken things between you, never with such desperation.
"It's okay," you tell him. "Whatever it takes, it's okay. I trust you."
His thigh slides between your legs.
"Can you forgive me? If I do this?" he whispers, lips so close to yours. You lean forward on instinct, pulled to him by more than just the fire in your core.
"There's nothing to forgive," you say, and then you're kissing.
What you need is an orgasm, but this is something you've wondered about for a long time. Something you've wanted. It almost feels selfish to take it now.
But, fuck, it's good.
He's not shy. You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue. He opens for you immediately, licking into your mouth as he pulls you forward and onto his thigh.
His kisses are desperate, exposing his worry, but also tender, exposing his care. You're in good hands, hands you love.
Even through your pants, the pressure of your cunt on his thigh is enough to steal your breath.
"God," you gasp.
"Not quite," Leon says, kissing a path from your mouth down your neck. "Does that help?"
You grind down on him in reply. His palms have made their way to your hips, aiding you in your quest for pressure on your core.
It's too much. It's not enough. But still, the coil tightens. "Sorry, I just need --"
You chase it, grinding down on his thigh even harder, panting into his neck. You're close, you can feel it. You're chasing it, that snap, that reward. Leon just lets you take and take and take.
You thread your fingers through his hair, panting into his neck. When you tug just a little, he bounces his leg and you keen.
"More, please."
It only takes three more bounces before you're coming, shudders ripping through you, his name on your lips.
When you return to your body, Leon is dragging his palm up and down your back.
"Did you just--"
You're becoming very familiar with the fabric of his shoulder, his leather harness pressing into your cheek.
"Mhm," you manage.
There's a world where you're embarrassed. In that world, you asked Leon out for dinner and then up to your place after. In that world, you made out on the couch and ground down on his thigh until you came. In that world, he laughed with you, utterly charmed, and it was the beginning of something wonderful.
In this one, he gently tilts you back so he can check your temperature with the thermometer.
"Holy shit," he breathes. "102.1. It worked."
You don't feel that different, but the number doesn't lie.
Leon is panting, too. "More?"
You nod. Your cunt aches like you didn't have an orgasm at all.
He tugs off a glove with his teeth, dropping it god knows where.
"Don't know how clean my hands are," he says.
A laugh bursts out of you, but it sounds close to a sob.
Two fingers go in his mouth faster than you can open yours. He doesn't waste too much time wetting them, given how turned on you already are, but he gives them a good suck. A trail of spit hangs from his lip when he finishes.
You work at the buttons of your pants, unbuckling your tactical belt. It clangs onto the desk behind you. Leon slides his hand down under the waistband of your panties. You collapse into him with a guttural moan.
"Leon," you gasp. He holds you up, no problem, even as you go utterly boneless at just his fingers in your folds.
"You weren't kidding," he says, breathy. "You are wet."
"I'm sorry," you pant into his shoulder.
"Please don't say sorry again," he groans. "I can't take it."
"Can I say thank you?"
"That's worse," he says, sliding two fingers into you at the same time. "I just wish it wasn't like this, is all."
The absurdity of the whole thing makes it hard to keep your emotional walls high. What's the point? You're having sex with your partner to save your life in an underground Umbrella laboratory. You're way past keeping your emotions from him.
So you hear his words for what they are. For what he's not saying.
"Oh, yeah?" He curls his fingers and you groan, arching into him. "You have something you want to tell me, Kennedy?"
"Little late for that."
He presses his lips to your jaw, but you pull back so you can see his eyes. He's flushed, his pupils taking over almost all of the blue you love so dearly.
"I always want to know how you feel," you tell him. It's honest, raw, perhaps out of place when he's knuckle deep in your cunt.
"Fuck," he breathes, like eye contact is enough to undo him.
"I just want to help you," he says. "I always want to help you when you need it." He picks up the pace with his fingers. "I like being the guy who has your back."
His thumb circles your clit. It’s all you can do to hang onto his shoulders and ride it out as he keeps talking.
"I want to give you everything you've ever wanted," he says. "I miss you when you leave the room. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met."
"Oh, Leon," you gasp, grinding down onto his hand. "Me too. Me too."
He scrapes his teeth along your neck. "Yeah?"
"Yes, yes, yes --"
The orgasm washes over you. You clench around him over and over. He carefully pulls his hand from your panties and licks his fingers. Good god.
Something has shifted between you. It's still about the mission, about breaking your fever, but now it's more. It's more, because you both want it.
Leon leans in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, tasting yourself on his lips.
Beep.
"101.3," he says.
You push his hair back from his forehead. "Is that low enough?"
This time, you do feel a bit different. Maybe it's the confirmation that Leon has feelings for you, but your muscles feel more relaxed, your skin less taut. The need still burns, though.
"There's no way to say this without sounding like a creep," he says wryly. "But I think you should have a few more."
You drag your hands up and down his torso, but your gaze lands on his makeshift barricade.
"Do we think we have time?"
Even as you ask, you're toeing off your boots and shoving your pants down. Leon is quick to help you.
"If anything comes through that door," he says, fingers hooked in your underwear, "I can kill it with my eyes closed."
He hooks his hand under your thighs and helps you up onto the desk fully, sweeping everything onto the ground.
"So could you," he adds. You hum in agreement. Your hand returns to his torso, trailing it down to the front of his pants.
He's hard.
It's not entirely a surprise, but you're pleased.
"I know, I'm sorry, it's kind of fucked up --" he tries. You don't let it get very far.
"Don't you apologize," you say. "You're allowed to want, Leon. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have. You already do."
His answer to that is a kiss, not searing and heated like before, but soft and slow. Like he's memorizing you, learning every inch of your mouth just because he can.
A wave of heat rolls through you, so intense and unexpected that you have to close your eyes and grit your teeth against the pain.
Leon rubs your back and tells you to breathe, it's okay, you're going to be okay.
The heat dulls. "How long has it been?" you ask through gritted teeth, eyes still shut.
"26 minutes."
His thumbs stroke your cheeks, helping you come back to yourself.
"Are you okay to keep going?" he asks. "I'll do whatever you want."
You reach for his belt with shaking hands. Not because you don't want him, or because you're scared, but because you need him. You need him to survive. This was just as true before you got infected as it is now. And you have him.
He has you.
Leon lets you unbuckle his pants as he undoes his harness and his tactical pouches. They both fall to the ground.
You take him in hand and he hisses. His cock is warm, another layer of heat against your already burning skin. His hips jerk when you stroke him root to tip.
His fingers circle your wrist to stop you.
"Another time," he says. He kisses your chin. "Okay?"
There will be another time. Leon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, so you take it to heart. This will happen again.
It's not exactly romantic, the way you lean back on some long-dead bioterrorist's desk naked from the waist down, Leon's pants shoved down his thighs and his cock in his hand. But it's what you've got, and it's what you'll take.
You spread your legs for him. He sucks in air like a man just saved from drowning.
"Ready?" he asks. You feel his tip at your entrance and can't swallow the moan that rips from your throat in the shape of his name. He wastes no more time sinking into you in one stroke.
You come immediately, legs wrapped around his hips. You might scream, it's hard to tell. But you're so full and it finally feels right. Like you've been missing something all along and finally found it.
Leon says your name over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer.
"I wish I could see you properly," he says, voice breaking. "I wish –
His hips jerk forward even though he's bottomed out. He leans forward until he's bracing his forearms on either side of your head, brushing your nose with his. He's right. It's hard to see him fully in the red-washed office.
"You know what I look like," you tell him.
"Not like this," he shakes his head. "Not like this."
"You're doing so good," you say, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Leon, it feels so good --"
It's a strange sensation to feel your blood cooling while he's inside you, to regain control of your body just as you surrender your heart.
Leon starts to move his hips, a slow drag at first, but it quickly becomes a snap. You dig your fingers into his biceps and hold on. You can hear how wet you are as he fucks you.
The coil in your core tightens again. "Leon," you moan. "I'm gonna--"
He kisses you, hips slowing to a grind. He reaches between you with one hand to find your clit and give it some messy circles.
"Go ahead," he says against your mouth. "I can take it."
Your cunt clenches around him. Tears prick in your eyes not from overstimulation but from everything else -- the heat in your veins, the tenderness of his hold, the way he's kissing you as you fall apart, swallowing your gasps.
"So beautiful," he says. And god, it sounds like he means it. Half-dressed, sweaty and bandaged, he means it.
Leon goes back to shallow thrusts, but they're becoming more erratic.
"How many is that?"
"Four," Leon says.
"Are you..."
He nods. "I'm close."
His forehead is damp from the effort. You wipe it with the heel of your hand.
"It's okay," you tell him. "It's okay, Leon. You can --"
You tighten your legs around him to hold him inside.
His breath hitches, but he picks up the pace without argument.
The smack of your flesh fills the room. The only thing on your mind is Leon Leon Leon.
The noise he makes just before he comes inside you is a punched-out whine of your name. He stills above you entirely, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
"So beautiful," you echo. "So beautiful, Leon."
He keeps his weight off you but presses his face into your neck as he catches his breath.
"Fuck," he says. "How do you feel?"
You need to check your temperature, but remarkably better. The heat in your veins is an expected one. You can feel sweat cooling on your skin. The incessant need in your cunt has dulled to a satiated ache.
"Still alive." You kiss him chastely, considering he's still inside you.
"Let me check -- where the hell did that thing go?"
He pulls out. You both hiss just a bit, but he finds the thermometer on the ground.
Beep.
"98.3," Leon says. "That's normal."
You feel boneless and make no move to get up from the desk. If you did, you'd surely make a mess.
"Finally, something normal about today."
Leon tucks his cock back into his briefs, buttons his pants. He drags his hands up and down your thighs.
"Can I clean you up?" he asks.
Even though you now know how he feels, know that he wants you just as much as you want him, he's done so much for you today. Your temperature is back to normal. You still need to make it back to the surface.
"You don't need to," you say. "Just...give me a clean bandage, or something --"
"Let me do this for you," he interrupts. Begs, really, already getting on his knees between your legs. "One more. Just to be safe."
The heat that builds is nothing like the wild, uncontrollable fire of before. This is all you, all Leon.
The fact that he wants his mouth on you, wants to lick his own come from your cunt.
"Okay," you breathe. You thread your fingers through his hair. He preens.
He kisses the inside of your thigh and pushes your legs wider.
Maybe you should feel exposed, but you don't. You feel wanted. You feel safe.
Leon pulls your folds open with his thumbs. He starts with long licks with the flat of his tongue along your seam, flicking your clit when he reaches the top. But your entrance quickly becomes his focus, and suddenly he's a man possessed.
He laps up his own release as it drips from you, humming when you tug on his hair. He hardly comes up for air, but you know he's paying attention to your reactions based on the way he moves his mouth. He sucks on your clit. Your hips buck, so he does it again.
"Leon," you gasp. How is it possible that you're going to come again? But you feel it, the rising tide in your core. All it takes is a glance down to find him watching you, soaking in whatever he can see in the dim light.
He keeps his mouth on you through your final orgasm. This time, a few tears leak from your eyes. Your breath evens out and your heartbeat actually slows the way you expect it to. The fever is broken, you're certain of it.
"Just to be safe," you say to the ceiling. "You just wanted to show me how good you were at that."
Leon wipes his face with the back of his hand.
"I like to be thorough," he replies. He stands, drags your underwear and pants up with him.
"Are you okay? How are the symptoms?"
"I think so." You scoot forward on the table so he can pull your clothes over your hips. "It doesn't feel like a fever anymore."
"What does it feel like?"
Your legs are a little shaky, but you stand and wrap your arms around him. You've just had sex to save your life, but you don't know if you've ever hugged Leon before.
"It feels like you," you tell him, cheek pressed to his shoulder.
Leon stills, but you can hear his heartbeat pick up. He envelops you in his embrace, lips pressed against your temple, his inhale shaky.
"I'm glad," he whispers. "I'm so fucking glad."
He's hidden his fear from you so well this whole time, but you saw the look on his face when he realized you were infected. You hug him tighter, willing the fear to leave him. You're okay. You're here, in his arms. He saved you.
"What now?" you ask. You turn in his arms. He releases you so you can reach for your tactical belt.
"We get out of here in one piece," he says. "We get you to medical."
"Fucking medical," you mutter. You shove your foot back in your discarded boot.
"I won't leave you there," Leon says. They could keep you for days, but you know he means it. "Then I'll take you home. And we'll sleep for days."
You almost forget that you don't have to keep your feelings from him. You let the joy take over your face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, a little sheepish. "If you want to."
"I want to," you assure him. "I want to."
You'll have to talk about this, surely. The way it changes your partnership, how to navigate field work. There is so much to learn about him. What he's like on a quiet morning at home instead of a stakeout. The noises you can pull from him in a real bedroom. His face when you tell him you love him.
The future is bright.
Leon buckles his harness. He laughs to himself, tearing you from your thoughts.
"What?"
He straightens your belt and grins crookedly, boyish and lovely.
"Are you writing this into the mission report, or am I?"
One thing I am just loving about Austin and the way he's handling his career is the fact that he's not afraid to take risks!
He doesn't mind playing a villain or a complicated and flawed human-being (ie. OUATIH, Dune Part 2, Lance Armstrong biopic, The Brigands of Rattlecreek).
He's not afraid to ugly up for a role (Dune Part 2).
He isn't afraid to take on small, co-star/cameo roles where he's not playing the lead (Eddington).
He isn't afraid to play the imperfect hero (Caught Stealing).
He isn't afraid to take the path less-traveled and not do Marvel/superhero roles (not that there's anything wrong with them at all).
He's not afraid of doing smaller, original films (Caught Stealing, The Bikeriders, Eddington, etc. )
And lastly, he's not afraid to keep us guessing.
That's what makes Austin so special and so interesting to watch for me. He doesn't play it safe. He's constantly doing something different. You can't really put him in a box. He's doing a little bit of everything.
I really think we have only seen him tap into the tip of the iceberg of his talent potential, and I still feel that one day, people are going to appreciate his acting, and just him as an actor overall, so much more than they do now. ☺️ I think it's just going to take a little bit of time due to the negativity, hate, and smear campaigns against him over the past few years.
But one day, people are going to be eating their words when it comes to him -- I can feel it.
𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 | re2r leon kennedy x claire redfield
Claire invites Leon over after putting Sherry to bed when babysitting. Feelings get shared and fluff ensues. ₊˚⊹♡
♡ tags: getting together, best friends to lovers, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, college student claire redfield, rookie cop leon kennedy, claire is sherry's babysitter, no t-virus outbreak au
♡ 2.3k words
♡ read on ao3
Claire Redfield knows it’s a bad idea, but when she answers the door to see Leon S. Kennedy standing there in a pair of jeans, navy blue t-shirt, and his favourite jacket, she doesn’t care.
“Hey,” Claire says with a smile at the door.
“Hey, Claire,” Leon greets warmly, his hands tucked in his pockets. He glances around the inside of the Birkin’s family home behind her.
She steps aside, motioning for Leon to come in. Since the beginning of spring 6 months ago, she had been babysitting a 12 year old girl named Sherry Birkin. Claire already had a job as a waitress at a local restaurant in Raccoon City, but with crippling student loans for her college degree, she needed any source of income she could get.
Leon looks around the place, turning back to Claire as she shuts the front door and locks it behind them.
“What did you say these people do for a living again?” Leon asks, more as a joke than a genuine inquiry.
Claire crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she answers, “To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure. Something to do with a pharmaceutical company? They’re some kind of medical scientists.”
Leon nods, only half listening as he takes in the expensive home around them. The walls are tall and white, matching the white couches and rug underneath the glass coffee table. He can’t help but notice how the house doesn’t feel like a kid lives there by the amount of breakable items decorating the place. Claire plops down on the couch and Leon follows her lead, leaving one cushion between them.
“From the little bits Sherry has told me, it doesn’t seem like they’re around much,” Claire tells him, tucking her feet up under her legs. “I feel bad for her. She’s such a good kid.”
Leon considers her words for a moment.
“She has you.”
Claire smiles softly. “I guess you’re right.”
Leon leans back into the cushions, an arm draped casually across the back of the couch. “What time are they supposed to be back?”
Claire glances up at the clock on the mantle. “Not for another few hours. They have this gala tonight, some kind of event for doctors and scientists to talk about new research and funding? I think they said they’d be home around 2am.”
Leon nods.
“Thanks for coming, by the way,” Claire says, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Usually I entertain myself until they get home after Sherry’s gone to bed around 11pm, but with the gala tonight, I didn’t want to be left here alone for another few hours.”
“Of course,” Leon smiles. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to spend time with you. Even if it’s in some rich peoples’ house that you’ve snuck me into.”
Claire reaches her leg across the distance between them, giving his arm a shove with her foot. Leon playfully smacks it away.
An awkward silence settles in the room after their laughter dies down until she asks, “So… you wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah— Yeah, sure,” Leon answers.
Claire nods, mostly to herself, as the tops of her cheeks flush pink. “Okay. Great. Yeah.”
She gets up from the couch to survey the selection of movies the Birkin’s have on the shelf beside the TV. Claire scoffs out a laugh, turning back towards Leon on the couch as she says, “Rich scientists watch some weird shit.”
“God, I can imagine,” Leon laughs softly, “Probably some homemade videos about creating viruses in a lab to start an apocalypse.”
Claire shakes her head and returns back to the movies, flipping through VHS tapes on the shelf. She pulls one out, brushing off a bit of dust then turns back to Leon.
“Found at least one normal movie,” Claire says, holding up the tape. “The Princess Bride.”
“Alright, don’t kill me, but—”
“No…” Claire says, already knowing what he’s about to confess.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen The Princess Bride?” Claire’s lips part in awe.
Leon scratches behind his ear, stretching his other arm above his head as he repeats, “Never seen it.”
“Leon Kennedy,” Claire deadpans, punctuating both his first and last name sharply. She doesn’t wait, immediately turning the TV on and popping the VHS tape of The Princess Bride in the VCR. As she makes her way back over to the couch, she continues, “It’s a classic. Everyone has to see it at least once.”
Throughout the first hour of the movie, Claire and Leon progressively shift closer together. First Leon leans towards Claire’s side of the couch instead of the arm, then Claire tucks a pillow beside her to shift herself a few inches closer to Leon. Then ten minutes later they grab the white decorative throw blanket off the ottoman to drape across both of their laps. However, the blanket isn’t long enough so Claire has to move to the middle cushion to make it work.
From there the touches become more obvious. Leon drapes his arm across the back of the couch behind Claire’s head, and within minutes, her temple is resting against his shoulder. Once they both realize neither wants to pull away, Leon lets his arm wrap around her fully, tucking her into his side. Claire’s hand comes up to her shoulder, absentmindedly toying with Leon’s fingers dangling near her collarbone.
Claire lifts her head, lips parted to ask how he’s liking the movie, but Leon doesn’t give her the chance to speak. He kisses her, lips pressed against hers so delicately yet firm. Claire gasps softly into the kiss, but quickly lets herself melt into it, kissing him back. His lips are soft under hers, more plush and gentle than she ever imagined kissing Leon would be.
Claire rests her forehead against his just to tease, “Took you long enough.”
Leon breathes a laugh against her lips, brushing his nose against hers. He caresses his fingertips across her cheekbone, past her ear to comb his fingers through her hair, pulling her into another kiss. This one is longer than the last one, and deeper too. The movie is long forgotten as Leon teases open the seam of Claire’s lips, parting them enough to brush his tongue against hers. She moans softly into the kiss, reveling in the way Leon’s hands anchor themselves on her sides. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of her tank top, massaging small circles into the heated skin of her waist.
Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Claire eases them down against the couch, Leon settling between her legs as he kisses her. Claire’s nails comb through his golden hair, scratching softly at his scalp as she sucks his tongue deeper into her mouth.
When they part for air, Leon’s wears a boyish, giddy grin. He pecks a few kisses to Claire’s cheek as she giggles underneath him, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt to warm her hands against his firm abs.
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Leon asks, though the question is rhetorical. He knows they were both scared to ruin the friendship they had.
Claire kisses him chastely, shaking her head as she continues playing with his hair. “It doesn’t matter.”
Leon tucks his face into her neck, breathing in the warm scent that’s so distinctly Claire. He mumbles into her skin, “But think of how many kisses I’ve missed out on giving you.”
Claire smiles, so hard her cheeks begin to hurt. She takes Leon’s face between her hands, pulling him out of her neck to meet her cerulean blue gaze. Peering up through long lashes, she bites her lip.
“I guess you’ll just have to make up for lost time.”
Leon’s pupils dilate, and he doesn’t hesitate to act on her words. He kisses her like his life depends on it, shivers running down his spine when she hums into the kiss. Claire twins her arms around his neck, holding him in place as they kiss. Their tongues move in lazy strokes, their lips softly coming together as their hands explore each other's bodies. Their lips, tongues, and hands act as cartographers, memorizing and mapping each and every inch of each other’s skin.
“Claire?”
Leon and Claire shoot upright at the sound of a small voice. Hair messy from wandering hands and lips swollen, they look over the back of the couch to see Sherry. She’s standing near the bottom of the grand staircase, dressed in a matching purple pajama set with white bunny slippers.
“Sherry!” Claire squeaks.
Sherry looks at Claire, looks at Leon, then looks back at Claire.
“Are you girlfriend and boyfriend?” Sherry asks simply.
Claire lets out a breath, releasing at least some of her anxiety. She manages a small laugh, glancing over at Leon. She reaches for his hand, hooking her pinky finger with his.
“Something like that,” Claire answers, not taking her eyes off of him.
Leon smiles back at her, then looks at Sherry. He slips his fingers through Claire’s giving her hand a squeeze. He looks back at Claire and raises a brow, a silent question between them. Claire nods with a smile.
“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend,” Leon tells the little girl.
Sherry beams at this information, the excitement palpable on her face. “Do you go on dates? Do you kiss? Do you love each other?”
Claire laughs, standing up from the couch and making her way over to Sherry. She turns her little body back towards the stairs, a gentle hand on her back and says, “That’s enough questions out of you, kiddo. It’s bed time.”
Sherry groans, but starts climbing the stairs. She pauses half way up, looking down at Leon on the couch.
“Bye Claire’s boyfriend!” She says loud enough for him to hear as she waves a hand.
“Bed time,” Claire repeats, trying to hold back a smile. “Your mom and dad are gonna be home soon and we’ll both get in trouble if you’re still awake.”
Sherry giggles before racing up the steps to her bedroom. It isn’t until Claire hears the click of her door shutting when she covers her face with a palm, hiding her flushed cheeks. She makes her way back over to the couch, plopping down against Leon’s side with a long whine. Leon laughs above her, resting his chin atop her head as his arms wrap around her. Claire hides her face in his chest.
“I can’t believe Sherry caught us making out,” Claire mumbles against him.
Leon rubs her back, dropping a kiss to her hair.
She continues, “I can’t see your face, but stop looking so smug about this.”
“You don’t know I look smug.”
“Oh, I absolutely do.” Claire takes her head out of his chest. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I’m enjoying this the perfect amount,” Leon smirks.
Claire swats at his chest, but he captures her wrist in his hand, lifting her fingers to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. She practically melts at the gesture. With a sigh, Claire glances over at the clock on the mantle.
“You should probably get going,” she begins softly, “Annette and William will be home in the next 15 minutes or so and I do not want to explain why there’s a boy in their house. I’m already gonna have to deal with the phone call tomorrow when Sherry tells them all about my boyfriend who came over last night.”
Leon grins widely.
“Is my misery that entertaining to you, Kennedy?”
He cocks his head to the side, a lazy smile on his face as he says, “Of course not. I’m just happy because you called me your boyfriend.”
Claire feels her cheeks heat, but she brushes it off with the roll of her eyes, feigning nonchalance. She stands in front of him, holding her hands out. When Leon takes them, she gives them a tug as she says, “Come on, rookie. Up and at ‘em.”
Leon lets her yank him up, immediately pulling her into a hug when he stands. They stay like that for a little while, holding each other and swaying gently in the night. Eventually Leon takes a step back, kissing her chastely before guiding her by the hand to the front door. He unlocks it with a simple turn of the lock, opening the door just wide enough to fit his hips. Leon rests a forearm against the doorframe, peering down at Claire before him with her arms crossed.
“Goodnight, Leon,” Claire says softly, her tone warm against the cool September night air outside.
“Goodnight, angel,” Leon murmurs, then kisses her cheek.
She tips her head to the side.
“Not a fan of the pet name?” he asks.
Claire bites her lower lip. “The opposite, actually.”
“Good,” Leon smirks, “Cause there’s a lot more where that came from. Goodnight, baby. Call me when you get home so I know you got home safe, okay?”
Claire nods then raises on her toes to press one last kiss to his lips. Leon steps outside, flashing her a wink before she closes the door behind him, watching him walk down the driveway to his car through the small window next to the front door. Claire presses her back against the door, tossing her head back with a sigh. Her best friend, the boy she’s been in love with for a year, was finally her boyfriend.
The sound of giggles captures Claire’s attention. She opens her eyes fast enough to see the flash of purple pajamas and blonde hair at the top of the staircase, rushing back down the hall.
“Sherry!”
“Claire has a boyfriend! Claire has a boyfriend!” Sherry’s voice sing-songs from upstairs until it’s nothing more than an echo.
Claire can't help but smile, laughing softly to herself. Ruining the friendship was absolutely worth it.
₊˚⊹♡ 🏷️ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ
author's note: tbh idk what this is LOL the idea came to me last night and somehow (despite having so much shit to do today) i wrote this whole thing with no plan. anyways, i hope you enjoyed <3
A list of all of my Resident Evil Fic! I might add some old stuff later, but for now it's just Cleon. I always love feedback and talking to you guys, feel free to message anytime!
Full list under cut.
[ao3]
Series:
One Meeting at a Time: An anthology series, with snapshots of Claire and Leon's relationship through the years.
Moving Forward: A sequel series to One Meeting at a Time. Will still be somewhat anthological, but is more connected.
What if There Were No Zombies: A collection of cute, family one-shots set in a no-zombie AU
Events:
Cleon Week 2025
Cleon Year 2024
Cleon Week 2024
Cleon Song Week 2024
Other:
Romeo and Juliet (Without the Double Suicide): An AU where Claire and Leon are childhood friends despite Claire's Police Officer father and Leon's crime family rivalry.
Back to the Beginning: Claire and Leon are thrown back into their past, back to a time when there was still a chance for them to be something more.
Hotels: Leon, Claire, and Sherry's relationships and life through a series of hotel/motel stays.
Everything We Lost: Claire and Leon find a way to stick together after Raccoon City, only sticking together doesn't mean staying together.
Full List Under Cut
One Meeting at a Time: An anthology series, with snapshots of Claire and Leon's relationship through the years.
Second Date: Claire and Leon's first time seeing each other after Raccoon City.
Christmas '99: Leon, Claire, and Sherry spend Christmas together, and take advantage of getting to be a family, even if only for a few days.
Claire's 21st Birthday: Claire and Leon's still developing relationship at Claire's 21st birthday party.
Sherry's 21st Birthday: About a year after Infinite Darkness Claire and Leon have to set aside their differences for Sherry's 21st Birthday.
Historic Meetings: Leon and Claire sneak away from a TerraSave event, and Leon “meets” Chris for the first time.
After Sein: Leon tries to help Claire after she is rescued from the Baltic Sea.
Claire's Boyfriend: Leon meets Claire's new boyfriend.
Lanshiang: Claire reunites with Sherry, Chris, and Leon in China.
After New York: Claire confronts Leon after the attack on New York.
Alcatraz: Leon reflecting during/post Claire being infected.
First Date: Claire and Leon pretend to have a first date.
One Last Time: Leon says goodbye to Ada for good.
Leon's 40th Birthday: Claire and Leon make new progressions in their relationship at Leon's 40th Birthday Party.
Surgeries and Promotions: Leon stays with Claire for a few weeks after rotator cuff surgery, and Claire gets a promotion.
Moving In: Claire and Leon move in together, and start making plans for the future.
The One With a Wedding: Claire and Leon finally tie the knot.
Moving Forward: A sequel series to One Meeting at a Time. Will still be somewhat anthological, but is more connected.
Moving Forward: Claire and Leon investigate a women's shelter serving as an Umbrella Front, and help a young mother and her daughter get to safety.
A Year in the Life: Claire and Leon adjust to their new life with Nora, including custody battles, toddler temper tantrums, cute family moments, and birthdays.
What if There Were No Zombies: A collection of cute, family one-shots set in a no-zombie AU
Jelly Bean Schnapps Easter Egg Hunt: The Redfield/Kennedy/Valentine bunch have an Easter Egg Hunt
Pool Party: The Redfield/Kennedy/Valentine bunch have a Pool Party.
The Only Bars in This Universe: Claire's out of town leaving Leon alone to put the baby to bed.
Christmas Fears: Due to a snowstorm ruining their Christmas plans, a very pregnant Claire mourns their last opportunity to have their normal Christmas traditions.
Flowery Dinosaur Cake: Claire and Leon navigate a few small hiccups before their daughter's birthday.
Failed Cupcakes: Leon tries to help his very pregnant wife by making the cupcakes for their daughter's bake sale, but ruins it royally.
Cleon Week 2025:
Coincidental Meetings: Claire and Leon meet at a bar the day before their fateful run-in.
Overdue Conversations: Claire and Leon meet up for coffee on the 20th anniversary of Raccoon City, and have some revelations.
Motel 6: After running into Claire at an 'Anti-Bioterror Convention', Leon reconsiders everything he thought he knew on the drive home.
Voicemails: Voicemails Leon left for Claire over the years.
Don't Shoot/Get Down: Claire and Leon's soul marks shaped their lives in drastically different ways, but neither could have imagined meeting their soulmate in a zombie apocalypse.
Cleon Year 2024:
Forced Roommates: After running into each other and getting infected on a mission, Claire and Leon are stuck quarantining together, forcing them to finally address some of their issues
Interrupted Honeymoon: Claire and Leon after their honeymoon is interrupted by a zombie dinosaur.
Fated in Every Universe: Claire and Leon are fated to each other with or without zombies. Though the night they met is drastically different without.
Barry's Cabin: Claire invites Leon to a weekend getaway at Barry's Cabin.
Not Another Lonely Thanksgiving: Claire forces a family Thanksgiving dinner on Leon.
It's Not Breaking and Entering if You Don't Break Anything: Claire, Leon, and Sherry break into a house during the aftermath of Raccoon City and find an N64.
Cleon Week 2024 Fics:
Unpacking: Leon finds a familiar-looking key while helping Claire unpack.
I'll Be There if You Ask: Leon goes to Claire's wedding and has to cope with all his unspoken feelings.
New York to DC in Record Time: Claire gets a call that Leon's been hospitalized after an attack on the White House.
Saving Sherry: Post Infinite Darkness Claire and Leon put aside their difference when Leon gets word that Sherry's been kidnapped.
Fated in Every Universe: Claire and Leon are fated to each other with or without zombies. Though the night they met is drastically different without.
Cleon Song Week 2024:
Tear in My Heart: Claire and Leon have a hard time ignoring their feelings on a small road trip. (based on Tear in My Heart by Twenty One Pilots)
The Night We Met: Claire and Leon look back through their broken relationship. (based on The Night We Met by Lord Huron)
I Believe in a Thing Called Love: Claire and Leon have some fun painting their new living room. (based on I Believe in a Thing Called Love by The Darkness)
Toothbrush: Leon tells Claire to leave her toothbrush at this apartment. (based on Toothbrush by DNCE)
Other:
Romeo and Juliet (Without the Double Suicide): An AU where Claire and Leon are childhood friends despite Claire's Police Officer father and Leon's crime family rivalry.
Everything We Lost: Claire and Leon find a way to stick together after Raccoon City, only sticking together doesn't mean staying together.
Back to the Beginning: Claire and Leon are thrown back into their past, back to a time when there was still a chance for them to be something more.
Hotels: Leon, Claire and Sherry's relationships and life through a series of hotel/motel stays.
The Teddy Bear Cure: Claire finds an oversized teddy bear wearing Leon's shirt on her front porch.
A Very Unexpected Birthday Present: Claire has an unexpected birthday gift for Leon a few months after Alcatraz.
Back Porch Revelations: A peaceful weekend getaway and help from Jill leads Leon to some much-needed introspection.
Angel Wings: The wings embossed on Leon's revolver ground him and remind him what really matters.
Valenfield:
New Partner: Jill keeps getting told how 'fun' her new partner is, while she only ever sees his serious, strait-laced side, causing her to doubt how well she really knows him.
just finished reading the ‘one meeting at a time’ series and oh. my. god. it was BEYOND good! good doesn’t even cover it! 😭
truly an exquisite series (one I’m definitely seeing as canon lol!) and has me so, so excited for the rest of the fics on this list! beautiful writing and beautiful characterization of all of our re faves 🥹
Author’s note: Fully reimagined old fic to add to the masterlist. Working on a consistent posting schedule as well!
Summary: After working nonstop years after getting your dream job, you take a solo vacation and spend a life changing day with a handsome stranger.
Word Count: 6.7K
There were 150 emails sitting in your inbox when you sat down at your desk, just as the sun began to rise on the city of Berkeley. Some unanswered texts sat in your phone as well, invites to dinner from friends you haven’t seen in weeks. All becayse you’ve been diving head-first into this research on a Phase Two drug set to hit the public market in about a month. You didn’t want to put your name on something that would become a three-part Netflix special about medical malpractice in a decade. Not when you were a part of contract negotiations and sitting in board rooms containing a net worth that easily quadrupled the amount of money the average human would see in their entire lives.
A top 10 global biotech firm hired you right out of college. Your full-time executive assistant job paved the way for you to become the Vice President of Strategic Partnerships, in just three years. The exponential growth in your experience and professional confidence not only gave you a more than comfortable salary, but also turned you into a version of yourself that you didn’t think existed. But with blinding success and licensing deals worth billions, there were more days up at 5AM to get an early start and less time catching up with family, going to the movies or just laying in bed on a lazy Sunday with no plans whatsoever.
You couldn’t even remember the last time you had consecutive days off until your assistant pointed it out to you. The calendar on your computer monitor was color coded and filled with meetings and time allotted to reading about a venture capital firm you’d be on a Zoom call with on Friday. And that pharmaceutical executive who gave you a side-eye when you walked into the room, unaware that he’d have to give a presentation that needed your approval for additional funding. That’s how the world worked. You were constantly having to prove yourself, to show you belonged in these rooms and ultimately hiding your look of satisfaction when those same people that looked down on you were forced to applaud your work, realizing you belonged.
Sitting at the head of the table wasn’t for the weak. And the continuous on-the-move attitude wasn’t going to be sustainable either. A few days ago, you glanced at the PTO you’d accumulated since starting your job and booked the solo trip to Athens without overthinking your plans.
Admittedly, the hotel name was a little on the nose. The Anthology of Athens felt—too touristy.
But then again, you were a tourist and the hotel was a five-star, within walking distance of about a thousand activities. There was no choice but to unplug.
You had officially traded your corner office for a relaxing week by the Mediterranean Sea in your room that had a balcony with a perfect view of the Temple of Zeus. It was the most incredible spot to people watch. You entered your temporary home with a plan: unpack, make a to-do list for the week and squeeze in free time for naps and other things normal humans do to relax.
A couple hours later, you woke up and it was dark. You slept for five hours on accident, months of living on Vietnamese coffee and bite-sized snacks you kept in your bag had suddenly caught up. And the jet lag settled in faster than you had time to process.
Now though, it was 3 in the morning, your time, which meant it was 5PM the previous day at home. You checked your email out of habit and texted your mom that you’d arrived safely. She texted back a red heart and told you to remember to actually be on vacation, almost like she knew what you were up to.
The laptop was closed and shoved back in its spot after that and you turned the tv on, hoping to distract yourself from the fact that you’d impulsively booked this trip in a foreign country on your own without speaking the language. Luckily, you were still a little buzzed from the rosé you had on the flight to think too hard about your decision.
Breakfast the next morning was a feast. An omelet folded to perfection, fresh fruit that tasted like it had just been picked off a tree, and Moustokouloura, a pastry so rich and sweet you understood why it was a Greek staple. Day one was spent as a travel recovery day, complimentary meals and drinks delivered to your door by staff who seemed to relish in the guests’ authentic experience with local flavors. You tried Greek yogurt from the source, which surprisingly was more of a custard consistency, topped with honey and some sort of crunchy cinnamon crumble.
You indulged in a mani-pedi, choosing the vibrant shade of lilac that felt fitting for your stay. Everything was brighter here—and smelled better. There was a constant wave of lemon and some sort of mint that followed you everywhere you went as you continued to explore the hotel, without the scent being too much.
Centuries of history lived in these restored walls, from the rooftop pool to Hadrian’s library where you found yourself entranced by the diverse collection. There were books on wellness and the room was carefully curated to maximize a quiet opportunity to get lost in the pages. You would have had it not been for the activities bulletin board tagging the latest opportunities for adventure in the next few days.
That’s how you found the glass blowing class.
You arrived at the small brick studio ten minutes before class was set to begin and found an available seat at a table near the center of the room. A man walked in a few minutes later, scanning the room quickly before grabbing the last available seat, which happened to be right next to you.
Of course the stranger had a sharp jawline and a slight tan, making his light brown hair look almost golden in certain angles. Tearing your eyes away from the handsome man well over 6-feet tall, not that you noticed. He had to duck a little to enter the doorway. You reminded yourself to focus.
It’s Europe. Naturally, the men would be better looking here.
The second thing you noticed was his clothes. He was wearing a faded purple T-shirt and a bucket hat with flowers on it. You liked the casual look. And the shorts were just unfair.
You reminded yourself to look away again. This was going to be a very long class.
“Welcome couples!” The instructor begins. “Thank you all so much for joining us today. I'm Antonia, the studio owner. I will show you all a demonstration of the basic technique and when you all split up to create your pieces we will walk around and guide you through the process. Any questions before we begin?”
A couples class. You almost laughed to yourself, taking a quick glance around, realizing that everyone else was in fact with their partner. Must’ve missed the letters in the fine print when you signed up for the class.
The broad shouldered stranger actually did laugh under his breath. “So...do we date or tell the truth?”
“Oh, you mean like explain to a bunch of strangers that both of us accidentally signed up for an intimate glass blowing class in a room full of lovers?”
“Did you just say ‘lovers?’” He chuckles again, watching you nod. “You are something else.”
“And your name is boyfriend for the next,” you glanced toward the clock, “74 minutes.”
The man thinks about his new temporary reality for approximately one minute before he shrugs his shoulders, “what the hell, it’s only an hour. I'm Joe.”
“Nice to meet you Joe.” You let yourself laugh this time, giving him your actual name.
You watched the demonstration intently, but not nearly as much as Joe did. There was a certain elevated processing in the way he watched the instructor wield the instrument and mold the molten glass. Like he was used to rapid recall at a rate the average person wouldn't be able to comprehend. Something pulled you towards trusting him when the time came to start. Antonia guided you all to the back of the studio and the heat from the furnaces immediately turned the room into a large oven, not a super uncomfortable heat, but a space that was lived in and smelled like shared experience.
Petros, your one-on-two guide, helped you choose your piece, a flower vase with a long stem. “Didn't really peg you for a flower guy but,” you nodded towards his bucket hat, noting the smiley faced white petaled character on the front.
“What? Flowers are cool.” He says calmly, letting Petros walk him step by step to the beginning. Joe’s hand hovers over yours, whispering “is this okay?” Before his long fingers wrapped around yours, guiding you to the furnace where you spun the stone as many times as you were told. There was a dark scar on the side of his hand, likely a surgery of some kind. You wondered where it came from but didn’t want to pry. Not this soon into your fake date with your fake boyfriend and his stupidly steady hand and the amused look on his face watching you blow into the tool. You chose the color together, a shade of dark purple and you held the flattening block as he spun the glass and Petros came in periodically to help shape the flower.
Petros mentions Okio, a Michelin star restaurant in the area as a lunch recommendation. “I heard about that place,” you speak up first, a tad disappointed, “it’s been completely booked for months though. Maybe next time.”
Joe doesn’t say anything, too busy visualizing his and your future masterpiece.
“This is actually turning out the way it’s supposed to.” You noted, tilting your head to admire the progress so far.
Petros pulled on the piece to create a smooth stem as Joe held the glass without any sudden movements. “He’s literally holding our hands through this like we’re five,” he jokes. The glass blowing expert laughs and pulls the piece off the tool, finishing it off with a flame and let you two know that it would need a few hours to cool down and he’d add a shatter resistant spray to prevent cracking. The piece would be ready for pickup at the end of the day.
You thanked him and thanked Antonia for the course, walking so close to Joe that your hands were nearly touching.
“How long have you two been together?” She asked with a bright smile on her face.
“Oh um—”
“A year,” Joe says automatically. “This is our anniversary trip.” He looks at you with a gaze bathed in tenderness, almost like he genuinely believes what he’s saying for a second. His baby blue eyes are warm in the studio light, pulling you in and you can’t force yourself to look away.
“Iv’e had couples come in here that have been together for years and they weren’t even half as in sync as you two,” Antonia says calmly but you don’t even really register she’s speaking with Joe’s hand now finding its way to your lower back for good measure. “Do you guys have big plans the rest of the day?”
“I’m kinda hungry,” Joe says. “We’ll probably grab lunch.”
“I could eat.”
Antonia gives you a few recommendations and lets you know the studio will be closing at 9 o’clock that night so the piece would need to be picked up before then. You thank her again and head out of the building towards the stone steps. “Well, that was fun.”
“It was.”
“And you said you were hungry, so I guess I’ll let you go. You can keep the vase, you put in a lot of work.”
Joe crosses his arms and turns to face you. “If I get to keep the bowl, then it’s only fair for me to give you something. Relationships are supposed to be 50-50. Even the ones that are an hour long."
You folded your arms while staring at him, waiting to see where this is headed. “Look, I don’t know what you and your other fake girlfriends have gotten into—”
“I mean Okio,” he laughs. Something about his laugh seemed familiar but you couldn’t put a finger on why. “The restaurant you were talking about earlier, my assistant got me a reservation for two. It’s not a weird coincidence, they don’t take kindly to lone reservations so she just booked it for two people. I was gonna lie and say my plus one got sick but now…It’s only fair that we unwind from our date with tiny plates that look like paintings.”
“Well I have been wanting to go…” you tell him, continuing down the rugged street path, “it would be a shame to waste a perfectly good fake anniversary.”
He presses his lips together, stopping himself from giggling before pulling out his phone to get directions. “Alright, I’ll take that as a yes. I think it's just up this street.”
Plaka was just like the TikTok videos described now that you got to experience it in person. The neighborhood was a collection of some of the most beautiful brick buildings, an array of restaurants with uniquely placed outdoor seating. The air carried the mingling scents of fresh pita, grilling souvlaki, and blooming jasmine. Laughter and snippets of conversation floated from café tables spilling onto the sidewalks, where diners lingered over plates of mezes and glasses of ouzo. Okio sat at the top of the hill and looked like an art exhibit had just exploded. Velvet blue seats, platinum sculptures draping the walls like a New York penthouse. Joe gave the hostess his reservation name and the two of you were walked to a private room for an immersive dining experience with the entire tasting menu.
Turns out, Joe can eat.
“What is that?” You nodded toward the third course.
“It’s,” he picks up the tiny place card and reads, “Cod fish, nori seaweed, celeriac root, champagne sauce and...herring eggs.”
“Herring?”
“Yeah I don't know,” he takes a bite, “it’s good though.”
“I’m really glad I got the chicken.”
Joe shakes his head and takes his fork and digs into the plate again. “You wanted the Michelin experience, you gotta try the egg.”
“I do not.”
“You do too.” He says flatly.
“Joseph...”
“Government name already? Scary. Just try the fish.” He holds out his fork and you take a whiff, pleasantly surprised that it doesn’t smell like dirt.
He happily watches you chew, knowing the signs of a person trying their hardest not to show they’re enjoying themselves. He liked the way your eyebrows scrunched together as you decided whether or not you liked what you were eating. The smug look on his face kind of makes you want to spit the food out and you would—had it not been the most delicious bite of food you’d ever put in your body. “The cod’s fine.”
“It’s better than the chicken isn’t it?”
Joe didn’t wait for you to answer, sliding his plate over and asking for another identical plate.
“So...” you took another bite off his plate, grinning like it was the most natural thing, “now that we’re sharing food and co-parenting a fragile glass baby, I feel like I should know more about you.”
“I was in Santorini for a few days, mostly hung out in my room all day. Today’s my last day in Greece actually. Figured I’d do Athens for the day before I fly out in the morning seemed fitting since I’m from Athens…Ohio.” He looked at you fondly and you rolled your eyes at the sentiment as he kept talking. “Wanted to see the city, look at cool buildings, maybe swim. I don’t know. I don’t usually do things without a plan so I guess it’s wherever the day takes me. It’s worked out for me so far. What about you?”
“This is my first day exploring actually. Flew in and crashed all day yesterday and today’s the first day I feel like I’m alive. I was gonna make a to-do list with a bunch of bucket list items but that seemed a little too on brand for me. I’m thinking the best plan is...no plan.” You trace the rim of your water glass. “And since we both have no set plans, maybe we can explore the rest of the day together? At least until our vase is ready? Seems inefficient to split up now.”
“Yeah. I think we can manage that,” he reaches for the check and realizes it’s all together.
“They didn’t split it, did they?”
“No they didn’t. But I got it. I’m glad you wanted to come here too, this was great.” He slides his card into the bill presenter. “Where to next?”
The little gift shop down the street called your name as the two of you walked off your meal. For a Michelin star restaurant the portions were a lot less tiny than you’d expected. Tourist books lined the stand near the entryway, Greek dictionaries in various sizes, tiny mugs you assumed were for coffee and a plethora of souvenir items that you'd definitely be looking at before you left.
“Are you a candle guy?”
“I’m a workaholic who spends a lot of time in rooms with sweaty men.” He pauses. “That sounded less crazy in my head. It’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise. I do like candles.”
You couldn’t remember the last time you spent quality time with someone and not talked about science or technology and inevitably, some mixture of the two. He opened the jars with ease, the pomegranate smelled fresh and the lemon one was so intense it probably burned off all of his nose hairs. Laughter came easy, you could tell he was relaxed around you and relished in the fact that you felt the same with him. There were no deadlines, no meetings, you hadn’t even thought about checking your phone or email. You even got matching evil eye souvenirs.
He chose a bag charm and you got a keychain. It felt so domestic it was almost scary. You even bought him the charm for good measure, felt like a fair exchange after he bought lunch.
Joe shook his head slowly, admiring you while you paid, silently cursing himself at the fact that he chartered a plane to leave early the next morning. He almost pulled out his phone and changed his flight after catching another glance as you thanked the cashier. But he didn’t.
Then you asked if he wanted to get on a boat to a nearby island.
“I’m not really a boat guy.” He sipped on the matcha he’d just bought. You chose a blueberry smoothie.
You almost laughed until you realized he was being serious. “Joe, we’re in Greece. It’s probably against the law to not be on the water. Come on,” you nudged him, “carpe diem.”
“Carpet—what?”
“Carpe Diem. It’s Latin for seize the day.” You playfully nudged him and walked to the port and let him help you hop onto the small boat to Aegina.
The ride was only 40 minutes but each time there was an inkling that the boat was rocking, you felt him tense. Your hand made its way to his thigh, feeling the muscles clench like the waves were threatening to tip him over. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but the way his leg leaned ever so slightly into your touch sent a warmth through you that lingered long after. Aegina’s coastline unfolded before you, the white-washed buildings glowing under the sun, expansive trees swaying in the breeze. You stepped into a local shop and grabbed swimsuits before heading to a local resort with a private beach.
Your uber driver was kind, an older gentleman with olive skin and a black cap with a bright orange “B” on the front. Joe slid in behind you and was quiet most of the ride.
“Are you actually gonna get in or are you one of those dip your feet in people?”
He sighs, glancing out the window and admiring the island view. Santorini was beautiful but this place was next level scenery. “I’m definitely getting in.” His voice was softer. You could tell he was more reserved now that there was an audience.
You also noticed the driver stealing glances at Joe in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel like he was holding back words. The silence stretched until finally—“I’m sorry, man. I just gotta say…” he finally utters out, "I've been a Bengals fan since I was 8. And I woke up at ungodly hours to watch you play every week. Huge, huge fan man."
The pieces of the puzzle being put together. You’d seen highlight reels and press conferences of this very man all over social media. Your best friend had even sent you a thirst trap, or two. All of your focus had been on the day, spending every waking minute together and you didn't even fully process why he looked familiar because the odds of that just sounded too insane to be real. Joe managed a polite smile, his usual ease replaced with a flicker of discomfort. You glanced at him, watching his jaw tighten just slightly as he signed the hat after you were dropped off, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks.
Did he worry you’d see him differently now that the truth was out?
He was pretty quiet on the way inside, the tires rolling on the stone street were the only sound you could really focus on until you reached the front desk. Joe gave them his name and put his card down and the associate manager walked you to the pool house to get dressed. You came out in your swimsuit and found him sitting in a chair with his tiny swim trunks.
“The Cartier shades should’ve been my first clue.” You joked as you glanced at the drink menu. “This doesn’t—I don’t care what you do. You’ll always just be the guy who introduced me to herring eggs.”
Joe’s shoulders shake as a giggle bursts from his chest. A full belly laugh you wanna bottle up and take home with you. It echoes off the stone walls of the pool house, unguarded and bright, nothing like the polite smile he’d given the driver ten minutes earlier. That sound might’ve been the best thing you’d heard in a while. Not that you’d say it out loud.
“Thank you for that.”
His voice is softer now, closer to you than it had been all afternoon. For a second neither of you move, the air between you devoid of the car ride’s tension and replaced with warmth that you desperately need to counteract with a swim.
“I do have one question though, if you don’t mind.” You stood to head into the water to cool down and he followed, his footsteps a beat behind yours.
“Oh boy.”
The water from the pool was a shade of blue that only existed in movies, sunlight casting perfectly along the tiny ripples, turning the surface into a shimmery paradise. You eased yourself in slowly, the temperature cool against sun-warmed skin, and he followed without hesitation. The water settled just below your ribcage. He stood close enough that you could feel the heat from him when he stepped nearer, far enough that you could pretend it wasn’t on purpose.
“Does it ever get exhausting? Having to censor yourself?”
He exhales through his nose, eyes drifting out toward the horizon before coming back to you.
“Sometimes.” He says honestly. “Fame is…weird. People think they know you and the support from them is great but then they want things from you. Whether it’s your time or your opinion. It’s hard to navigate being a public figure while being a private person. I wanna perform on the field, not in real life.”
The water laps softly between you. You move a little closer without thinking, the space narrowing until your arms brush beneath the surface.
“Yeah, I get that.” You trace the scar on his hand, your thumb grazing the raised edge before you realize how intimate the gesture is. His fingers still instinctively at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. “I just ask because obviously it’s on a much lesser scale in terms of public exposure by any means. It’s just—my job sometimes feels like I’m performing. And I don’t wanna lose myself in that. I’m good at my job and I want to be good at my job but I don’t want my job to be my identity, you know?”
Now that you’ve started your rant, you can’t stop.
He turns his hand slightly so your fingers settle more naturally against his palm, water shifting around your wrists.
“Believe me, I do. I keep thinking about how my life revolves around working out and rehabbing injuries and always coming back from something. I forget to just exist. Kind of why I came here. I’ve been so focused on coming back from things I forgot to enjoy anything. To enjoy how far I’ve come, to enjoy how much I still have to look forward to.”
There’s no teasing in his voice now. Not an ounce of performance. Just him.
“Same. This trip was supposed to be my reset. A reminder that I’m more than my deadlines and my title. My boss once called me at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, and I didn’t even blink before picking up. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that’s all I am.”
For a moment, the only sound is the soft hum of distant conversation somewhere inside. He looks at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle and also memorize the way your face looks when it’s glowing in the sun.
Joe sits and thinks about your words, looking you in the eyes, “think we’re doing a pretty good job of unplugging today.”
A server comes out with two drinks and sets the tray on the floor next to where you’re standing, breaking whatever fragile thing had settled between you. The liquid inside jiggles softly as they’re placed down.
He reaches for them, water streaming down his arm, and hands you one. His fingers brush yours this time, lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
“Cheers to being happy.”
You let your cup clink against his, condensation cool against your knuckles. His gaze doesn’t leave yours.
“Cheers to figuring this whole adulting thing out.”
The glasses meet with a soft, hollow sound, and neither of you move right away. You talk about his flight time in the morning and what your plans should be for dinner. Nothing is set in stone and your hands are turning into raisins.
“Alright, history nerd,” you say, pushing away from the pool edge. “You wanted cool buildings. There’s a temple up the road.”
He squints at you.
“You googled this, didn’t you?”
“I may or may not have taken a look during the car ride here.”
Joe shook his head, a bit surprised at the fact that you remembered his throwaway comment from lunch.
You’re dropped off at the bottom of the trail, nothing strenuous but definitely a trek to the top of the cliff.
“Were you a Greek mythology fan growing up?” you asked, looking at the ground so you didn’t dive face first into the rocks.
He grimaced. “I was more of a SpongeBob and Star Wars guy.”
“That tracks.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” you turned slowly toward him, “this looks like it would be the perfect setting for a desert battle. You know. Dramatic duel. Capes flying. Lightsabers making that weird sound. Emotional monologues.”
He immediately pointed at a broken column. “That’s where Obi-Wan would stand.”
“You would absolutely think you’re Obi-Wan.”
“Anakin, thank you.” He corrects.
“Doesn’t he become the villain?”
“Exactly.”
You pulled out your phone. “Okay, stand over there. I need a picture of you pretending to hold up the temple. It’s in the tourist constitution somewhere, trust me.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“You absolutely are.”
He sighed dramatically but moved into position anyway, placing his hands flat against the stone like he was single-handedly preventing collapse.
“Little higher,” you instructed.
He adjusted.
“More intensity.”
“I am literally saving civilization.”
You snapped the photo, laughing. “This is going straight to my imaginary scrapbook.”
He walked back toward you, peering over your shoulder. “You’re not posting that.”
“Relax, the last thing I need is TMZ on my back asking for an exclusive on whether or not you’re happy with where the Bengals are headed. I have enough on my plate. This is just for me. To remind myself that today was real. And I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
He paused, expression softening into a light grin. “It’s okay. I’ll take one of you too.”
Once the photo shoot was finished, you continued the climb, traced the columns with your fingertips as Joe had his eyes set on the top of the mountain. The faint carvings in the stone depicted stories of Aphaia.
“She went from a local protector to a literal goddess, that’s pretty badass.” Joe notes as he reads while you continued on.
“Wow,” you breathed, stepping forward until your toes nearly hung over the low stone wall. “You can see the whole island from here. Feels very…Olympus.”
Joe came up beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. “Feels like we’re on top of the world. No wonder they built a temple here.”
The hill dropped sharply to reveal the entire eastern side of Aegina unfolding below: distant villages hugging the coast, olive groves and pine forests rolling down to turquoise water, the Saronic Gulf flowing all the way to the mainland. On a clear day like this, you could almost make out the distant shimmer of Athens itself. Breathtaking didn’t do the view justice and you found yourself looping your pinky around Joe’s as a way to ground yourself. His finger tightened around yours like he’d done this a thousand times.
Everything felt so huge and tiny at the same time. The sun was beginning to set on a day that began with so much promise and opened the door to experiences beyond your comprehension.
“Thanks for bringing us up here. When I said cool buildings, I didn’t think about all this. This is so much better than anything I could’ve found.”
“I’m really happy this mini hike was worth it,” you pulled out your phone to look at the time as the sun really started to go down. “We should probably go look for a boat ride back. Our flower vase needs to be picked up in a couple hours.”
“Yeah,” he starts down the path, pinkies still interlocked. He casually wraps his hand around yours moving down the steps and back towards the mainland to ensure you don’t fall. He doesn’t let go. Neither of you comment on it the entire ride back to the dock.
The ride back to Athens comes via boat with food options. You’ve cleared your plates, settled inside the small cabin space, free from the wind and any prying ears. “I can’t believe we spent the entire day together. And I didn’t have to be anyone else today, I got to be—Joe. I’ve had a lot of good days but this? This one might be up there.”
“Today’s been great for me too,” you sigh, glancing at him. “Not a bad first day out.” Your leg brushes against his. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten until you could feel the heat of his arm against yours, his breath soft and warm on your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips, like he was silently asking for permission. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath just a whisper away, as his hand hovered near your cheek. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a spark through you, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you in.
You couldn't allow yourself to go there. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, not like this—but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it hard to think clearly. As much as you wanted this, to feel him close, to taste the sweetness of that kiss, the weight of knowing how fleeting it all was crushed down on you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you were afraid to want, a piece of yourself that you couldn’t let slip away so easily. If you kissed him, this wouldn’t just be a good day anymore. It would be something you’d measure other days against. And that felt dangerous.
“We can’t” you whisper, watching him drop his hand that had just been lightly caressing your cheek. “You’re gonna leave tomorrow and I’m gonna be thinking about this kiss for a long time. And I can’t,” your voice remains steady. “This was supposed to be just today. One irresponsible, no plan, very good day. I don’t wanna ruin that, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t—don’t apologize. I get it.” He still hadn’t scooted back, biting his lip to keep his emotions at a safe distance. “You’re right. This stays here.”
The boat carried you the rest of the way in a quiet that felt more like longing than awkwardness or anger. His hand rests beside yours on the bench, close but not touching.
You stepped out before he could reach for you again, clearing your throat once you were close enough to the studio, the street now dark and empty. “You should probably go grab the vase.”
He studies you for a long moment. You think to yourself this is probably how he studied his opponents looking for any weakness. Joe could probably see how close you were to cracking and kissing him so he didn’t push. “Are you okay heading back to your hotel on your own?”
“Yeah, I think I could use the fresh air. It’s not far.”
“Guess this is it then.”
“Guess so.”
You hesitantly took two steps forward and wrapped him in a hug. You held on tighter than you meant to, silently begging him to stay for a few more days. His grip on you was just as strong, his heartbeat thumping rapidly against your body.
Everything in you wanted to say you were going to miss him, to miss this day.
“Bye Joe.” That was it. That was all you could manage.
He turned and went down the steps to the glass blowing place and you watched him walk away. He didn’t look back.
And when you walked away towards your hotel, you didn’t look back either.
After the jam packed day you had, sleep felt like a necessity. You were exhausted beyond belief, barely making it to your room and changing into clean clothes before laying on your back in the middle of the bed. You tried to get comfortable under the soft blankets and plush pillows that felt brand new but perfectly molded to your form like it had been crafted for you specifically.
None of that was enough to get you out of your head long enough to sleep. Your eyes were closed but your mind would wander back to the boat or the pool or the restaurant. The extra pair of glasses he kept in that seatbelt bag he refused to take off, the random jokes delivered in a dry tone that was so dry sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. His comeback stories about his wrist, then his toe and all the times he saw his career flashing before his eyes. All the times he came back even better than he was before. And all the times it didn't matter because their team wasn’t good enough. You thought about what it felt like to be a professional, to be expected to be at your best and not always wanting to be the face, to be front and center and having to answer questions and make life altering decisions not only for yourself but for the entire future of the company.
You weren’t a franchise quarterback but you understood expectations. You understood pressure. And today had relieved you of all of it.
For the day you were a tourist, carefree, happy, weightless.
The morning came sooner than you were prepared for. You’d finally gotten to a state of deep sleep when the bright sunshine woke you up and you checked the time. Joe was supposed to leave in two hours. Against your better judgement, and the fact that you’d curved him the night before, you googled the resort he was staying at and called the front desk, providing them with the room number and the reservation name, hoping they’d put you through. Last night felt like a half-assed goodbye. Both of you deserved more.
“I’m so sorry ma’am, he checked out early this morning. I think he had a very early flight to catch.”
“Oh, no worries. Thank you so much.” You hung up with a sigh. That was that, the sign you needed to know you had made the right decision by walking away. Pursuing whatever yesterday was just didn't seem rational. Or realistic.
You had lunch at the MS Rooftop, a restaurant lined with floral arrangements and lanterns with shaded outdoor seating and a rooftop view. The city was so vibrant, bursting with hues of pinks and yellows and the water on the horizon. In hindsight this would be the solo trip of your dreams, calm energy, relaxing vibes, great food. But you ordered one drink at the bar and felt a pang in your chest. Yesterday, everything came in twos. Couples walked by hand in hand, laughing about inside jokes and you watched fondly, thinking about how much Joe would’ve liked this place because it had two essentials: flowers and fresh air. Then you thought about how exposed this place was compared to everywhere you went with him yesterday.
The glass blowing class was in a small studio—it was you, Joe and three couples. Everyone was too focused on their dates to really notice him. Aegina was also pretty isolated, private beach that happened to be empty because the place he chose had three others, the boat rides were just the two of you and the driver. The only place that really had a slip up was a random Uber driver and even then, he was super respectful. Here, out in the open in the middle of the day you realized how many people were around and thought about if someone recognized him or if there were any American football fans in the room that would try to sneak a picture. He’d probably be paranoid and looking over his shoulder, unable to really enjoy himself.
Then you thought about how ridiculous you were being. You’d spent one day with the guy and here you were fantasizing about security measures and hypothetical situations to make sure he’d be at ease if he were with you. Even though he left the country hours ago. This is why you hadn’t kissed him. If you had, you’d be doing more than thinking critically, you’d be full on fantasizing in the middle of the day on a stunning, well deserved vacation.
You finished your drink and headed to your next activity, a spa day had your name written all over it. Deep tissue massage on a beautiful wooden boardwalk overlooking a lazy river which you took part in after your trip to the sauna and steam room. It was two and a half hours of self care and every single minute was worth the time.
When you woke up from a nap, back in your room there was a notification on your phone.
An Instagram DM request that contained two words: Carpe Diem.
You looked at the message twice. Before you could fully put together what was happening, your thumb hovered over the power button.
Then you unlocked your phone to look at his profile.
Verified.
It was him.
You locked your phone again and put it face down on the bed. With a hand over your mouth, you exhaled out a small laugh, half shocked, mostly relieved that he did decide to reach out. The DM stayed in your requests for the time being. He hadn’t left whatever happened alone either.
Now you needed to figure out how the hell you were going to respond.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Claire Redfield
Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Claire Redfield
Additional Tags: Sex Pollen, Sort Of, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, Aphrodisiacs, First Time, Undercover, CleonSugarAndSpice
Summary:
Claire and Leon run into each other while undercover investigating a new ‘heightened arousal’ virus, and are forced to reckon with their buried feelings.
