𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆!!⁠

reader ✶ fangirl ✶ nerd

[xorangeade]

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆 ✶ 𝟐𝟎 ✶ 𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓

𑣲 hopeless romantic. awfully french. for the introverted girlies. blind asf. chronic daydreamer. slight addiction to cinnamon.

𑣲 thoughts? feedback? anything on your mind? my mailbox's here :)

𑣲 mdni. requests are open.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 (incoming) ✶ 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔

[xorangeade]

── 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 ᝰ.ᐟ

𑣲 featuring — dean di laurentis x fem!reader 𑣲 contains — reader being roommates with allie and hannah ; reader being an overthinker 𑣲 author's note — i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it!!

It was a Saturday morning and you were still in bed, the sun gently peaking through your window blinds. You eventually yawned, sitting up and stretching your back. Then you heard your phone buzz, which was unusual for you, especially during weekends. Maybe it was either Hannah or Allie texting you that breakfast was ready, but everyone knew that the three of you were too lazy to have a proper meal to begin your day. And your intuition proved you right: it was a text from an unknown number.

What the hell. It would have been believable, except you spent your Friday night with your roommates binge-watching Love Island while lazily snacking. And also, you literally never give your number to people you just met. You give the stranger a genuine reply.

You scoffed, instantly typing back.

You see three dots appearing in the conversation before they disappear. Then they reappear. It seemed you caught that stranger off guard.

This is when you decide to ignore your phone: either way, that stranger went silent. You decide to get up, open your window blinds, brush your hair and finally throw on an oversized sweater over your pyjama top. You leave your room, finding Hannah and Allie on the couch, already watching Love Island again.

"Without me? Girls! I literally just woke up."

Allie turns to face you, a Cheeto hanging out of her mouth. You theatrically gasp when Hannah mimics her, a Cheeto also shoved in her mouth.

"In my defense, Hannah totally insisted we should rewatch yesterday's episodes to judge the fashion."

"I did not!"

All three of you giggle and you eventually join them on the couch, finding yourself munching on Cheetos too. This is exactly when your phone buzzes against your lap. You ignore it, but it vibrates again ten seconds later. Hannah glances down at your lap while Allie is too focused on the TV. You lazily unlock your phone to open the conversation with the mysterious stranger.

And then a picture follows. You don't even have the time to look at it that Hannah lets out the quietest gasp. But it was enough for Allie to turn towards Hannah because of the noise, and they both looked down at your phone screen.

"Is that Dean Di Laurentis?" They both excitedly say in perfect sync.

"Is it?"

You finally stare down at your phone. You take some time to look at the picture. Firstly, you see a pair of defined and glistening abs. Then your gaze trails up towards the face tied to it. Well, that face was recognizable everywhere. It was indeed Dean fucking Di Laurentis.

"Holy shit." You breathe out.

"Are you sexting him?" Allie quickly adds, instantly pausing the show.

"Are we talking about the same person? She doesn't do sexting." Hannah continues.

"Well if it isn't sexting, then she's definitely onto something."

"We all know she keeps hating on hockey guys. It's basically a sacred rule here."

"What about Garrett, uh?" Allie smirks.

"Not the topic!" Hannah shoots back.

"So, what's the tea girl?"

You helplessly look at Allie when she asks the question. Excellent question. There is no tea, considering this is just a misunderstanding with a really, really handsome guy. You simply showed them the conversation, telling them you had no interest in maintaining it, and they both agreed. Dean seemed like trouble and you tend to stay out of it anyway. Allie resumed Love Island and you didn't hear from Dean anymore.

Well, for someone wanting to stay out of trouble, you failed successfully. Truth is, you were overthinking the situation. You felt bad about leaving his text unanswered, so you eventually replied to his picture the same day, late at night. You sent Dean a selfie, eventually proving to him you guys were strangers. When you thought the conversation would stop after the misunderstanding was solved, you didn't expect him to keep texting you.

It has now been a month and the daily texting was a part of your routine. Friendly texts turned into banter, and banter turned into serious flirting. You couldn't even believe it yourself. You even nicknamed him "Prince Charming" no, not the Disney one. The one from Shrek. Same hairstyle, same person right?

This felt weird because the two of you had never met on campus. Not that the idea revulsed you, you simply feared it wouldn't be the same. Texting was easy, flawless and it gave you the time to think about a reply that just felt right. Hiding behind a screen was always easier to communicate your feelings: when you were in front of people, your thoughts were too tangled and you had a hard time speaking up. Well, except when you were around trusted people like Allie and Hannah.

You obviously trusted Dean too, but something about him felt intimidating. Something about a popular hockey player and some random campus girl was intimidating. What would the others think? And also, why are you overthinking this now? You guys are literally not a couple. Just good friends. Who happen to flirt most of the time. But the current situation was perfect for you: just a bunch of texts, away from the public eye, away from other people prying.

But you could feel that Dean yearned for more: he yearned to hang out with you in person. Every once in a while, he would ask you to come to a hockey game or come to a party. You always declined. He was never vexed, but you started feeling bad about pushing him away. Again, it is not that you didn't want to meet him. Your brain was just scared and imagined a thousand scenarios about how this could go wrong.

You feel a shiver running down your spine. Was this going to be the whole "I love you, I can't stop thinking about you" talk? Oh God. Please no. This is too soon. You don't reply and Dean keeps texting.

And yet, you are still mortified. You stare at the three moving dots, biting your lower lip as you expect literally anything. Mostly something negative, but you don't know. Then his message pops up.

You gulp. Well, that was straightforward, but that was less horrible than what you were expecting. You still take a few minutes to think. This might be the only opening you're gonna have, because there is no way you will willingly talk about it ever again. Dean is offering you his hand and you are wondering if you should take it. You take a few deep breaths before finally typing back. It takes you a few minutes to submit your answer.

You wish you could stop typing. But you can't. The fact that he is reading your texts as you send them is stressing you out.

You wait a few minutes. Dean read your messages, but he wasn't replying to them. A million thoughts crossed your mind: maybe he would block you, or maybe he would give you a humble thumbs-up reaction, or maybe he was showing the text to his friends. You sigh, burying your face in your pillow, lifting your head to check your phone every ten seconds.

You read his text once. Twice. Thrice. Many, many times. You couldn't believe it, it was like he ticked all the boxes on the "How to reassure an overthinker" list. Your heart eventually stopped racing and you found your body relaxing to his reply. This is exactly what you needed to hear. It was in the way he paid attention to everything you said, not trying to minimize your feelings, or telling you you would be okay. You also notice how his spelling became more serious, as if he genuinely were valuing the moment.

The two of you conclude that you will meet this exact Friday at your place. You would only have to tell Hannah and Allie to leave for the night, but that would be no trouble. You knew these two would have your back anyway. Actually, this was a good time to call for a girls' meeting. You text the group chat you had with them.

It was finally Friday. Hannah and Allie became your personal advisers since you shared the whole Dean "thing" a few days ago. They would playfully mention him every single time just to catch you blushing. Holy shit, you liked him more than you thought. Allie classified this as your first date, so you obviously had to make a killer first impression. So here you were in Allie's room, getting a complete makeover while Hannah sat in the back with her guitar and her notes.

"Are we sure this is okay?"

You say, worrying about the way your reflection looked. You weren't a huge makeup fan, but Allie made sure she gave you the tiniest makeover ever: just enough to enhance your natural features without transforming them. Hannah gives you a big thumbs-up while Allie frowns.

"Girl, you shouldn't doubt my makeup skills."

"I'm not! I'm just worried this isn't... Me, you know?"

"You look gorgeous. Trust me."

You give her a nod, biting your inner cheek while staring at your face. It'll be alright. Do men even notice makeup anyway? You feel your gaze drift away as Allie fixes your hair with hairspray. She puts her hands on your shoulders, whispering in your ear.

"Dean already loves you, trust me. Now go get dressed."

You come back a few minutes later, awkwardly standing in Allie's doorway. Although you picked an outfit you are used to wearing, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Pampering yourself for a boy was something you never did before, and you were worrying that you either did too much or not enough. Before you could let your thoughts sink in, Hannah speaks up.

"You're so pretty. How are you feeling?"

"I'm gonna shit myself." You blurt out with a chuckle.

"Then make sure you do it before he gets here." Allie laughs.

"Remember to try and communicate your feelings. From what you told us, it looks like Dean only wants you to feel comfortable. Don't worry about him being upset if you are nervous. If it doesn't go well, text us, alright?"

You shyly nod and before you can think further, there's a knock on your door.

"Special delivery's here!" Allie rushes out of her bedroom.

You can see her opening the door while you exit her room, Hannah following. There he is. Dean Di Laurentis. Even more impressive in real life, you had to admit. He casually stands in the doorway, brushing his hand through his hair while he holds a takeaway bag.

"Hey." He says, addressing everyone in the room, but he is looking at you.

"Hi." You reply.

In the meantime, Allie and Hannah are leaving the place. They sneak past the doorway and give you a wink behind Dean's back. You invite him in and you already feel more than awkward. This is when he speaks up.

"As your humble Prince Charming, I made sure to deliver you your favorite meal." His smirk brightens as he looks at you.

"Oh, my prince, you shouldn't have. I'm flattered." You mimic him, inviting him to sit on the couch.

He sets the bag down on the coffee table, opening it to set the food and drinks on it. You can't help but look at him, look at the way his movements are slow and gentle. He also picked your favorite drink, which you probably only mentioned once. You stay silent a bit too long, considering Dean speaks up.

"Are you okay?"

"Nervous." You instantly reply, almost cutting him.

"I think I have the solution. Can I use your TV?"

You nod, giving him the remote control. His fingers brush yours, such an innocent but also deliberate gesture. Your skin is almost tingling from the contact. Dean opens Netflix and puts the Shrek movie on. It gets a giggle out of you.

"You might be onto something, Prince Charming."

"I know I am."

This is when Dean catches you off guard. As you sip on your drink, you can hear him starting to sing along to All Star. Your head darts in his direction as he seriously keeps singing, a smile beaming on his face. He doesn't stop here. He stands up. Grabs the TV remote. Uses it as a fake microphone and you can't help but look at him, moving your head to the song's rhythm.

This interaction was strangely comforting, because even if to most people this would have been considered ridiculous, it was actually endearing. This was Dean's own way to tell you: "Hey, let's be weird together." And it worked. When the chorus finally arrives, you stand up too. You steal his makeshift mic and start singing along, his voice joining yours as the two of you parade around the room, ending your tour on the couch as the song ends and the movie continues. It somehow felt so natural and easy to be yourself around him.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Amazing."  You admit, a shy smile forming on your face.

By the time the two of you finish your takeaway dinner, you snuggle next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. As the movie goes on, you feel Dean's arm wrapping around your shoulder, your eyelids getting heavier. You don't even try to fight it: your body is slowly relaxing next to his, promising you a power nap. The last thing you hear is his laugh.

You eventually wake up in your bed, immediately finding Dean sitting at the edge of it, watching you slowly come back to the living world. You squint your eyes, a yawn escaping your lips as you sit up.

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sor-"

"No, no more apologizing for things that aren't your fault." He says it with a playful tone, although he genuinely means it.

"No promises."

There is a comfortable silence between the two of you. He just looks at you and you stare back at him, lost in the moment. Was this it? Was this the end of your night? But you didn't want it to end, not when everything felt this right.

"By the way, someone drooling on my shoulder is a first for me."

"Hey!" You playfully hit him in the shoulder.

"I really enjoyed our date, though. I mean it."

"Me too. I don't know how you did it, but you managed to help me relax so quickly, so thank you."

"I was just being amazing. As usual." He rolls his eyes, anticipating another hit from you by blocking it.

"Can I see you again?" You ask, biting your inner cheek. There are little chances he will say no, but your brain is always making you doubt.

"I won't let you go." Dean tilts your chin up, making sure your eyes are locked with his. "I promise."

The sudden proximity makes your heart faint and your cheeks blush. You couldn't help but look at his lips until your thoughts escaped your mind before you could stop them.

"I think I really want to kiss you."

"I think I would love that."

Hand still on your chin, Dean closes the gap by sealing his lips with yours. Your arms naturally wrap around his neck, inviting him closer. This kiss is slow, gentle and warm, everything you ever wished for.

𑣲 dividers — @/cursed-carmine 𑣲 author's note — thoughts about the way i set the texts? figured it would be more immersive, but i don't really know tbh so any opinion is welcome tyy

[xorangeade]

── 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌 ᝰ.ᐟ

𑣲 featuring — dean di laurentis x fem!reader 𑣲 warnings — drinking ; panic attack 𑣲 author's note — if u have any scenario recs, i'm listening! :)

Partying, dancing and drinking were not really your favorites. You always managed to make compromises for your friends, accepting to hang out with them at Malone's every once in a while, and sometimes it even went as far as you partying at some star student's house. Tonight was no different as your roommate dragged you out of bed to the Hawks House. Usually, it would have been fine, except you wanted to be anywhere but there.

Recently, you had trouble relaxing. Your mind was constantly thinking about studying, extending your knowledge to its limits, being the one getting the best grades. Being good wasn't enough: you had to be the best. It often resulted in you spending the night working on essays or losing yourself in huge textbooks. It was counterproductive: the more you studied, the later you stayed up, the less you slept and the more mediocre your grades became. But it was a vicious circle: you were stuck in your little loop, hoping everything would fix itself with a good amount of studying.

So here you were at the infamous hockey jocks' house, surrounded by booze, puck bunnies and loud music. This atmosphere was usually tolerable, but your mind wasn't at the party. Your mind was already feeling guilty about not studying. Your eyes darted everywhere, the room being filled with distractions.

"C'mon girl, can you at least pretend you're happy to be there?"

Your roommate snapped you back to reality, handing you a red plastic cup.

"Hm hm."

You blankly nodded, your gaze drifting towards a group of people playing beer pong as you sipped on the mysterious liquid: it tasted like disinfectant, but you still drank it anyway. Your roommate dragged you to the dancefloor and you followed, trying to let your mind breathe a little. And well, it was unsuccessful. So unsuccessful that after an hour, you retrieved upstairs.

Even if you could still hear the bass of the music, the environment was quieter. You didn't exactly know where to stay — since it wasn't your house and you didn't want to enter rooms that weren't yours, you sat cross-legged in the middle of the hallway, head looking down at your phone. You searched through your gallery for the pictures you took of your textbook, eventually convincing yourself that the words you read made sense. You couldn't tell how long you tried until your mouth started feeling dry, a cold sweat quickly following.

Your thoughts suddenly became too loud, like your mind was trying to nail the "I NEED TO STUDY!" mojo in your brain. Each nail made your heart ache, and the more it ached, the harder it became for you to breathe. You put one hand over your chest, trying to slow your breathing down, unsuccessfully. You could feel your pulse through your temples as your self-control slowly went away, but there was nothing you could do about it. It was already too late.  You were spiralling into a panic attack. Your knee started shaking as you were gasping for air, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt tears menacing their way down your cheek.

"Wow. That's a first." An unfamiliar voice says. "You know usually, the girls are invited into the bedrooms." No reply from you.

"Hey, are you okay?" You can hear his steps hurrying your way.

You can't tell who it is, but you see a blurry, broad silhouette kneeling in front of you. He doesn't try to break physical boundaries by grabbing you by the shoulders to steady you: instead, he just waves his right hand near your face, trying to have your eyes focused on him.

"Hey, look at me."

It took you a few seconds, but you eventually opened your teary eyes to find Dean Di Laurentis in front of you. Your eyes are darting to your surroundings until they eventually focus on his face. You helplessly look at him, your breath still hitching every time you try to breathe in.

"Try to take slow breaths. In." He says before inhaling. "Then out." He exhales and so do you.

It takes you a little while to calm down, but the slow breathing pace Dean established eventually helped. You felt your breathing calm down, your knee settling and you could eventually see without the veil of tears covering your eyes. And even when it looks like you are doing better, Dean doesn't stop. He holds your gaze, still instructing you to breathe in and out until you are completely relaxed.

"How are you feeling now?" He says while handing you a bottle of water.

"I can finally breathe, thank you."

"Do you often have panic attacks?"

"I think it's the first time it goes this badly." You admit, looking away. "It's no big deal though, I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" He asks, searching for your gaze.

Is it no big deal? You're one second away from spiralling again. Will you have a panic attack every time you try to study now? Every time you're afraid you're gonna fail? No, it surely can't happen, right? Dean studies your expression in the meantime, since you take a moment to reply, your eyes darting everywhere again. He snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Hey. If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay too. Let's just distract your mind, alright?"

Your gaze focuses on Dean again as you give him a little nod of approval. You're wondering what's on his mind. You pictured him yapping about hockey or girls, which would do the opposite of relaxing you. He quickly goes into his room and comes back to you, iPad in hand as he grins while sitting next to you this time.

"I can play the piano." He says, opening up a piano app on his tablet. You frown, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"No way."

The next thing you remember is Dean entirely proving you wrong. He manages to play Mad World on the keyboard that's missing half of the tiles, but it's still good to hear. Then he passes the iPad to you, and the rest of the night is a back-and-forth of a piano cacophony since you don't know how to play it, and he doesn't know any other songs, punctuated by giggles.

𑣲 dividers — @/cursed-carmine

[xorangeade]

── 𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐 ᝰ.ᐟ

𑣲 links — part 1 | part 2 | part 3 𑣲 featuring — re4!leon x fem!reader 𑣲 warnings — someone killed ; blood ; small injury ; drinking 𑣲 author's note — part two is finally here, enjoy!!

You slowly opened your eyes, the dim light gently caressing your cold cheeks. Once he finally saw the color of your pupils, Leon walked away to give you some space. You eventually rose, yawning then stretching your hurting limbs. That was a terrible night of sleep, since resting on the cold ground wasn't ideal. You wrapped Leon's jacket around your shoulders, carrying your backpack as you left the creepy house.

"Sooo. Leon. Do you have a car to bring me back to my hotel?"

"No, not really."

"Oh. So it's a private jet."

"… Neither."

"What kind of government agent are you then?"

Leon just stared at you, not impressed nor bothered by your behavior: either way, he figured you wouldn't fix it even if he told you to be nicer. Instead, he ignored your sarcastic attitude and jumped to a more important topic.

"Where were you staying before ending up here?"

"Nobu Hotel. In Marbella."

"Then I will be escorting you back there."

"With what? A horse? Riding a scary villager?"

"We'll have to walk." The blond seriously said, not even cracking a smile. Was he usually this grumpy, or did he just not sleep?

"You're such a joy to be around, Leon."

And with that, the two of you started walking again. The forest was dense, the ground uneven and its atmosphere sent a shiver down your spine. You hoped Leon had a map, considering you had no idea which road led you through this damned village in the first place. The first hour of your improvised hike was pure silence, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. You didn't exactly know if he could genuinely be friendly or if he was stuck-up, so you stayed silent.

The sun eventually hung high in the sky and your stomach grumbled, its internal clock reminding you it was probably time for lunch. You held your belly with one hand, trying to silence the upcoming noises while Leon kept walking forward. After a few more minutes, you finally tugged on his arm and he turned back, his blue eyes looking down at you.

"I need to eat."

"I know." He nodded and moved forward.

Soon enough, you made it to a wooden house. Its chimney was evacuating thick grey smoke through the clear sky, indicating someone was home. Although a strange buzzing noise could be heard from afar, you were far too distracted by your hunger to properly care about it: food was the only thing on your mind.

"Stay back." With a nod, you let him walk further while you hid behind a tree.

Leon walked to the front door, gun in hand. Each step he took was quiet, calculated while he peered through the blurry window. He didn't have the time to look back at the door that a chainsaw pierced right through: an attack the blond man dodged with a backflip. You giggled, putting a hand over your mouth: did Leon seriously crack a backflip to avoid death? Suddenly, a man burst through the wooden door — he was almost twice as tall as Leon.

Your escort moved quickly, switching his gun for his shotgun. He immediately shot the giant in the knees, making him lose his balance. The enemy hunched forward with his roaring chainsaw and Leon took this opportunity to sneak behind him, shooting him in the back of his head, blood and brain splattering everywhere. With a loud thump, the corpse fell while Leon let out a disgusted sigh, wiping the red goo off his face.

"At least you didn't ruin that amazing jacket of yours." You smiled, finally walking towards him.

"The things I'd do to eat." He mused, sliding a hand through his hair before shaking it, small pieces of brain falling to the ground.

As you walked towards the house to enter it, Leon grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards him. You looked down at his hand, his grasp firm yet so soft. You paused for a moment, trying to chase your intrusive thoughts away before looking up at him.

"I just need to make sure the place is cleared. Stay close."

"Hm-hm." You nodded as he let go of your wrist.

Moving forward, Leon stepped into the gloomy living room, which was already empty. Thankfully, the place was small and there was only another room to check. Walking towards the other open door, you watch Leon cautiously stepping in, carrying his handgun, ready to shoot if anything shows up. After one quick look around the room, the place was definitely empty. You followed closely as the floor creaked beneath your steps, eyes looking at the poor single bed in the middle of the room, a rotten nightstand sitting by its side. Your curiosity piqued you, as usual.

Leaving Leon's side — which didn't last long, considering he immediately followed you, you crouched in front of the rotten furniture, opening its drawer. Seeing a small, crooked, hairy shape, you leaned forward to try to figure out what it was. Pushing your luck, you curiously poked it with your finger, only to be bitten in return. With a shriek, you instinctively pulled back, bumping into Leon, who was standing behind you.

"Kill it! Now!" You screamed repeatedly, holding your bloody index up as proof.

Leon quickly examined the open drawer, finding an agitated mouse inside. He scoffed, rolling his eyes to turn at you, as you still dramatically made death threats to the thing that bit you. And well, you weren't calming down. You were anxiously pacing around the room, your finger raised in the air. Even if it was a small bite, what if it infected you with some unknown disease?

"Hey." Leon clasped your shoulders, forcing you to stop moving. You naturally looked up at him, a worried expression on your face.

"But it bit me!" You continued, in an attempt to avoid how intense his icy gaze was.

"It was just a tiny mouse. Let me see."

The blond let go of your right shoulder, only to take your hurt hand in his, scanning your finger. You didn't flinch, allowing him to take a closer look. With a nod, he eventually released your hand, inviting you to sit on the creaking bed, which you did. Leon sat beside you, carefully snatching fresh gauze out of his leg pocket before gently wrapping it around your finger. You stayed silent, appreciating how soothing his touch was.

"You didn't disinfect it."

"You're welcome." He said, an amused look on his face.

"You're right- Thank you." You repeated, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks.

The rest of the day went well as the two of you shared lunch — well, it was only bread crumbs, a suspicious-looking stew and a glass of wine. After this, Leon finally escorted you back to your hotel. The walk was long, painful and hot, too hot. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you kept wearing his jacket despite the glowing sun. You simply couldn't help it: it was wrapping you in a warm and secure embrace.

The two of you spent the rest of the trip talking, eventually getting to know each other a bit more. He had told you about his horrifying beginnings as a police officer at Raccoon City, giving a few details here and there about how he ended up working for the President. You also shared your story, explaining how your relaxing vacation took a terrible turn.

The evening came way too quickly as you finally arrived at the familiar five-star resort. Leon accompanied you all the way to your room. He stopped in the doorframe while you entered. Not hearing his steps anymore, you stopped too, wondering why he wasn't following you. Turning towards him, you tilted your head to the side.

"Come on, you're not gonna go back. It'll be night by the time you make it."

"I have to. I told Hunnigan I would escort you until you were safe and go back for Ashley."

"Just come in. At least get some rest. Dinner perhaps?"

"Sorry, I can't." His brows frowned, a hint of disappointment hiding in his gaze. If leaving him felt bittersweet to you, it surely looked like he felt the same.

"Relax a little, it won't hurt you. Please?"

And with that, you took his hand and pulled him forward, letting the door close behind you. He smiled before making a quick call to Hunnigan, telling her it would take him one more day to escort you safely. You heard her agree as you walked towards the bed.

"Now that's a real bed!" You exclaimed, throwing yourself on the king-size bed. Leon looked at you, crossing his arms.

"Don't worry, I'm not a monster, I'll take the couch." You continued, your voice muffled as you buried your face in the pillows.

You took the liberty of ordering a decent meal from the room service while Leon showered, the sound of the water flowing filling the room. You walked in circles, anticipating how he would look, his blond hair damp, a towel wrapped around his hips, droplets here and there on his bare chest. You spent days staring at his arms, and they were nothing but an appetizer, teasing what the rest of his body would look like.

"What the hell." You muttered to yourself, distracted by a door knock.

Thankfully, it was the room service bringing you the awaited dishes, giving you a reason to stop thinking about Leon for a hot minute. You set the plates on the table, making sure to get two wine glasses: after all, you didn't steal wine for nothing. And by the time you were done, Leon came out of the bathroom. He was almost like how you envisioned him, hair damp but fully clothed.

You invited him to sit, and you two shared dinner around a glass of wine — or several, considering a bottle and a half was emptied. After a resourceful dinner, you decided it was your time to take a shower, scrubbing off the sweat and dirt from the last few days. Looking at your naked reflection in the foggy mirror, an idea crossed your mind. Listening to your tipsy inhibitions, you left the bathroom wearing nothing but his jacket.

Hearing your steps, Leon turned towards you and froze. His eyes traveled across your silhouette, his gaze suddenly darkening once he realized you were naked underneath his leather jacket.

𑣲 dividers — @/cursed-carmine 𑣲 author's note — annnnd now you must cruelly wait for part 3 :p

[xorangeade]

── 𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒕. 𝟏 ᝰ.ᐟ

𑣲 links — part 1 | part 2 | part 3 𑣲 featuring — re4!leon x fem!reader 𑣲 warnings — someone killed ; drinking ; reader locked up 𑣲 author's note — hey everyone! first time writing here, have fun reading! (fyi i'm not a native english speaker so there might be mistakes)

It all started with an innocent trip to Spain. Deciding you needed a serious break from work, you took two weeks off. The program was simple: a five-star resort for your first week and a wellness retreat for the second. It was everything you needed and yet, you didn't know it was about to ruin your life.

The first few days were nothing but sipping cocktails by the poolside while reading a book. By the end of the week, you decided to indulge in serious sunbathing, wondering what your skin would look like with a sun-kissed look. And before you could stop it, you ended up redder than a lobster. Yup, no more tanning for you.

The retreat week came soon enough, resulting in you and a group of several people being driven to a secluded Spanish village. There was little you knew about this place or its inhabitants, but you heard they were called "Los Illuminados". Doing any research about them didn't even cross your mind, as you decided not to overthink it: this was a vacation after all.

Looking around, the village seemed... Empty. Charming, but there was a certain gloominess about it. And the second someone tried to interact with the locals, the tables were brutally turned. Instead of being greeted with friendliness, you were met by sickles, forks, axes, and lit torches. One thing led to another, and someone ended up with a fork nestled in their chest. Villagers started chasing the tourists, and you ran away to wherever felt safer.

And this is how you ended up locking yourself in the church's basement. You couldn't tell how long it had been. Has it been a few days or a few weeks? Either way, your phone was already dead, and there were no services when you tried to reach out for help. This place was cold, and the silly sundress you had on didn't do well at covering your sun-kissed silhouette, and what you had packed didn't exactly help.

Luckily for you, the basement was used to store food supplies, so it's not like you were starving to death, but still. People usually stored wine in caves, not water. You tried to drink when you truly felt dehydrated, but it wasn't like the precious red nectar was doing a great job at making you feel hydrated. So well, you were tipsy, biting down a piece of questionable cheese while helplessly waiting for help. Any kind of help.

"Ashley Graham?" An unfamiliar voice said, sound muffled by the door trapping you.

"Over here!" You cry out, banging on the wooden surface.

"Ashley, are you in here?" He sounded closer now. You banged on the door once more to indicate your presence.

"Step away from the door." He inquired, and you listened, walking away. With what you assumed was a high kick into the door, your savior stepped into the room. Slowly retrieving from the darkened corner, you take a look at the man standing in front of you. Tall, blond, muscular, and… Carrying a gun?

"What kind of tourist are you?"

"You're not Ashley Graham."

A frown appeared on his face as he seemed disappointed, almost annoyed. Hiding a sigh under his breath, the blonde boy put his gun away while reaching for his left ear, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke to someone.

"Roost? This is Condor One. I reached the village and explored it. I didn't find Baby Eagle. They already moved her somewhere else."

"Did you find any clues to where she's potentially headed at?"

"I found a map with circled locations. I'm heading towards the lake next."

"Copy that."

"Also, I found a girl. Is there anyone missing other than Baby Eagle?"

Now, you were the one frowning. You eyed him suspiciously, wondering if the little wine you had earlier made you more tipsy than you would like to admit. Why the fuck was he looking for a baby eagle in the middle of nowhere? Why was he carrying a gun to rescue a lost bird? You didn't exactly hear the rest of his conversation — you were too busy snatching two bottles of wine from the shelf.

"My name is Leon, and I will be escorting you out of here. Also, you should put these back."

"Nope, I will keep these. Wine is expensive." The stranger rolled his eyes, asking you to put the bottles back again. You gave him a wide smile, stuffing a third bottle in your backpack. Leon figured he shouldn't ask you once more.

"Why are you here anyway?"

"I work for the American government, and I was sent to rescue the President's daughter, but I found you instead. Come on, let's get you out of there."

You nodded at Leon's reply as it seemed convincing enough. If he was picked by the President himself, he was probably a skilled and trustworthy man. He left the basement through the door he kicked open a few minutes ago, gesturing for you to join him.

"Stay close."

You obeyed, putting your backpack on one shoulder as you followed him. Leon reached for his gun again, often turning back to look at you, ensuring your safety. Climbing a ladder, the two of you eventually reached the first floor of the cursed church. You felt a sudden rush of cool air on your limbs as both of you stood in front of a broken stained-glass window. You peered down and looked at Leon, gulping.

"I won't jump. Do you have a ladder?"

"Does it look like I'm carrying one?"

And with that, he jumped and effortlessly landed with a precise forward roll. Running a hand through his hair, Leon looked up at you, waiting. There was a certain warmth beneath his gaze, like he was silently encouraging you to join him.

"I'll catch you, come on."

You look down at Leon for a few seconds before loudly swallowing, walking closer to the edge. Breathing in and out, you closed your eyes before leaping. Before you could think about splashing onto the cold grass, you were met by his warm embrace. One arm under your knees, the other around your shoulders. Bridal style. Leon carried you as if you were as light as a feather, gently setting you on your feet.

"See? It wasn't that hard." You swore you caught him smirking. "Let's go."

Leon flawlessly led you through the dense forest, its scenery becoming gloomier by the time the sun set. You started shivering, feeling the cold air through your bones. Once he heard your teeth clattering, he stopped walking to turn towards you.

"Here, have my jacket."

"Oh, don't bother-"

"I insist." He took his jacket off before gently wrapping it around your shoulders. You stay silent for a moment, your gaze trailing down his bare arms. Holy shit. Such arms could embrace you with warmth, but such arms could also easily kill anyone. Your gaze trailed further down his hands, closing your eyes at the thought of them wrapping around your wrists, your hips, your thighs.

"We'd better get going." Leon interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

The end of the walk felt more comforting because his jacket kept you warm. The scent of his cologne softly reached your nose and you knew it would linger on your clothing for days.

The two of you eventually reached a freshly abandoned house — the fire was still going, but there was no trace of living people. That was strange, but you couldn't be bothered to ask for details. Your feet were killing you already, and your body was begging you for a night of sleep.

"Here. Get some rest and we'll leave tomorrow."

You arched a brow, looking around the decrepit room. There was a rotten table, a bank, a fire with a fuming cauldron and a strange-looking boiling mixture. There were no beds or any signs of something comfortable to sleep on.

"Where do I sleep?"

"On the floor."

"No way."

"Way!"

Leon teased with a subtle smile, your displeasure fully satisfying him. You gave the blond a death stare, hoping he would do something to change the situation, although he didn't pack anything. Leon eventually turned the opposite way, setting his gun and shotgun on the wooden table.

Sighing, you set your bag near the wall as a makeshift pillow, carefully retrieving the three bottles of wine you stole. You took Leon's jacket off, deciding it would be a decent blanket as you lay on the floor, curling up before putting the jacket over your cold silhouette. Your eyes wandered around the room, finding Leon dismantling his weapons to clean them, or something like that. Before you could know it, you fell asleep to the sound of the crackling fire.

Your sleep was quite light, as you woke up every once in a while. Each time you woke up, you swore you could see him watch over you. And before you could know it, dawn came. It is with a gentle shake to your shoulder that Leon woke you up.

"It's time to go."

𑣲 dividers — @/cursed-carmine 𑣲 author's note — i hope u had fun reading this! i enjoyed writing it sm. feel free to give me feedback! (if you plan on roasting me, PLEASE do it in my dms) fyi i have a part 2 planned ykyk