selene💫

Bodyguard!Leon x First Daughter!Reader Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 3

❌18+ MDNI❌

new chapter and uploading this in a hurry im sorry if it looks weird okay ily bye

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

shoutout @sammimi19 @12soap34 @theebladestar for proofreading ✨

The sun outside is blazing hot as you come out of the pool dressing room in your floral cover up, marching into the backyard. Maya hasn't arrived yet, but you're not alone nonetheless since your newly assigned agent is waiting for you right on the shaded patio.

This is already getting old.

He lifts his gaze when you come into view, feeling his eyes trace your form briefly before turning them to the pool. He can't see your own behind your dark sunglasses, the shades helping you put on a mask of confidence. You readjust the thin fabric of your mini dress in self-consciousness, hyper aware of the sheerness that shows a glimpse of your bikini clad body.

This is the kind of feeling you never really had to worry about with the other agents, most of them at least twice your age. But with a younger man, and one you attempted to flirt with at that, you can't help but feel particularly self-aware.

“Aren't you hot in that suit?” you mutter as you walk past him to sit on a lounge chair, crisscrossing your legs.

“Resisting harsh weather is part of the job,” he answers from his spot, his stare now intently focused on the water. Maybe you're not the only one feeling awkward.

“How old are you again?” you ask suddenly in feigned nonchalance.

He chuckles softly, still not looking at you as he answers. “Twenty-seven, ma’am.”

Swallowing down the irritation that flares every time he calls you that, you observe his side profile illuminated by the bright sky. With his pretty, yet masculine features, he looks like someone you would see on a magazine cover rather than with an earpiece. It makes you all the more curious about how he ended up here, especially at his young age.

“So what agency are you under?” you raise an inquisitive brow. “You apparently specialize in BOWs… Which one handles that?”

A small smile etches onto his lips as he turns to you, finally facing you again through the barrier of your shades. “I work under your father. That's all I can say, I’m afraid.”

“Okay,” you nearly scoff. Of course his position has to be confidential and leave you in the dark. It feels so debilitating having your life managed by people who know far more about you than you ever will about them. “But have you ever done this whole bodyguard thing before?” your tone drips in barely concealed judgement.

The question seems to catch him off-guard, a slight air of insecurity flashing across his features. “No,” he answers simply.

A cocky smirk spreads on your cheeks at that, and you lay down on your reclined seat with newfound smugness. “Hm, that's what I thought.”

If he looked unsure before, now his mood has shifted into indignation. “Are you implying my performance isn't satisfactory, ma’am?”

You don't let his stern demeanor destabilize you as you place your hands behind your head in the picture of relaxation. “You hover too much,” you explain matter-of-factly. “And you stare.”

“Pardon?” he sputters, taking a half step closer with a deep frown.

“The Secret Service’s job is to protect as seamlessly as possible. Instead, you're roaming around me while I’m trying to relax by the pool.”

His eyes go comically wide—the first look of real emotion on his face for the first time since you met him. “You—” his words cut-off, clearly flustered by your pointed comment as defensiveness oozes from him. “You were asking me questions and I answered. I wasn't gonna do that from twenty feet away.”

“You were standing close before that,” you retort with a bored expression. “You know, if this is the distance you're keeping while we’re inside the literal White House, then I don't even want to know how overbearing it'll get at campus.”

Silence stretches after your words linger in the hot, humid air. He looks like he wants to say many things, but instead settles on a clipped response. “Fine,” he mutters in clear annoyance, then turns to walk away and give you space.

His brooding nearly makes you laugh. “Great. Now you're sulking.”

The man stops abruptly in his steps, turning to you with a locked jaw and icy eyes nearly reminiscent of your father’s. “With all due respect, ma’am, I don't sulk—I do my job. And in case it wasn't clear, I am forced to be here just as much as you are.”

With that, he turns again, then strides away until he stands by the wall directly under the scorching sun. He then pulls out dark sunglasses as well that he puts on without a word, before clasping his hands at his front in a rigid stance.

It’s only after seeing his blonde hair appear nearly platinum under the blistering heat that you realize the reason he may have stayed close before was to stay in the shade. A sudden sense of guilt creeps inside you, and you consider making amends by inviting him back under the large umbrella, but you feel awkward. One minute berating him and the next wanting to coddle his pouty face—it’s ridiculous.

Before you can make a decision, Maya makes an appearance into the yard, escorted by two agents. She hurries to your side with an excited squeal of your name that you return with a tight hug once you stand up.

“Oh my God, it's so freaking hot today I feel like I’m melting,” she groans as she sets her bag down—one that was undoubtedly thoroughly searched.

“Yeah, and they’re saying it’s one of the coolest summers D.C.’s ever had—it sure as hell doesn't feel like it.”

“It’s the goddamn humidity. I can't stop sweating,” she huffs as she shrugs her top and shorts, slipping out of her sandals in the process. “Thank God for pools. Come on, I can't wait anymore.”

“Alright,” you chuckle at her eagerness, then quickly slip out of your cover up.

Deep inside, you almost hope the agent by the wall appreciates the sight, but the idea is quickly overshadowed by insecurity. The mean voice in your head laughs at your wishful thinking, reminding you that he’s not fond of you and that Maya has a nicer body he’d probably prefer to look at anyway.

A sudden splash of water jolts you out of your thoughts when the brunette dives in the water without waiting, sending a wet dash right onto you.

“Come on, loser! You’re gonna get a heatstroke!”

You shake your head with a grin, then finally move to sink into the blue basin with careful steps down the ladder.

She scoffs at your slow approach. “Please tell me you're allowed to cannonball and it's not some forbidden rule to ensure maximum protection from the evils of muscle cramps?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, splashing her in return. “I’m trying not to get my hair wet.”

“Lame!” she snickers and you both laugh.

Mid giggling, your eyes land on Agent Kennedy again who is still unmoving in his corner. You’d think he’s turned into a statue if not for the sweat beading at his temples. God, you can't even imagine standing in the multiple layers of a suit under the hot sun in the middle of July—the sight of him makes you uncomfortable.

It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that he, along with other staff around the administration, are simply meant to serve you without complaint. Sure, they're here out of their own volition, but it doesn't change the fact there is an inherent unfairness to this man-made hierarchy.

You, raised in privilege by a well-off couple, and them, forced into career choices that put them in uncomfortable positions. It's one of the many reasons why your father’s presidency still tastes sour on your tongue.

By the time the sun starts setting, your palms and soles have pruned from the water. You spent most of the pool hangout chatting with Maya, occasionally playing childish games you're both too old to partake in. And the entire time, Agent Kennedy stayed perfectly still, only shifting his weight from one foot to the other intermittently.

Wrapping yourself in a towel as soon as you're out of the wet surface, you sit on the lounge chair and eye the snacks that have already been laid out for you on the table by staff.

“I’m so hungry,” Maya exclaims across from you, reaching for a croissant with her still damp hand. As she bites into the flaky pastry, she suddenly pauses mid chew when she spots something behind you that has her eyes widening. “Oh, my God, girl… Why the hell does the guy over there look like the one that talked to you at the bar?”

“Oh, you just noticed…” you mutter knowingly, embarrassment flaring in your chest.

“What do you mean? Wait, is it actually him?” she gasps loudly and you gesture for her to quiet down.

“Yes, yes! Just don't be so loud, my God… Apparently he's taking Davis’s position for a while—dad says it's necessary.”

Blinking, she frowns deeper. “I am so confused.”

“Trust me, so am I. He’s like this special agent or something? I don't know, they won't tell me shit.” Frustration seeps from your tone.

“But why was he at the bar? Was he watching you then?”

That makes you pause for a moment. You never got to talk enough to ask him about that, especially with the rude attitude he's been displaying.

“I didn't even ask… He pisses me off.”

Maya laughs, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “Well, at least he's a sight for sore eyes.”

That makes you groan in annoyance. If only she understood how much he gets on your nerves—no amount of pretty blue eyes are worth the headache. “You wouldn't be saying that if he kept calling you ‘ma’am’ with this annoying, smug little smirk he makes.”

“I don't know,” she tilts her head in contemplation, eyeing him up and down past your shoulder. “I think it's kinda hot for a guy to call me ‘ma’am.’ Like in a ‘he knows his place’ kind of way.”

“Yeah, except I’m the one being put in my place getting babysat by a dude barely older than me.”

She chuckles again, finding amusement in your irritation, before her voice morphs into something more sympathetic. “Poor guy, though. He’s been standing there the whole time, he must be sweating like a pig.”

That once again has that same sense of guilt from earlier tug on your heartstrings, and you finally concede to your inner voice with a grunt.

“Fuck, fine.”

“What? I didn't even say anything,” Maya laughs in confusion.

You ignore her as you twist to look behind you, raising your sunglasses to rest on your crown now that you don't need them anymore. “Kennedy?” you call out in as neutral of a tone as you can muster.

You can’t make out any emotion on his poker face, though you do notice the flush of his cheeks and nose from the sun, the color making him oddly endearing despite his intimidating aura. He walks closer, stopping once he can talk to you without shouting.

“Yes?” His voice is completely detached.

Unsure of what to say, you fiddle with the twisted fringes of the towel draped on your frame like a shy teenager, all traces of smugness gone. “Um, are you hungry?”

“No,” he deadpans.

“Thirsty?”

“Neither.”

“Okay…”

Awkwardness fills the air to a painful degree, but thankfully your best friend is there to save the day as she extends a hand with batting eyelashes. “Mr. Kennedy, is it? I’m Amaya Salem, but you can call me Maya.”

“Pleasure.”

Accepting her handshake with a brief, professional one, the agent goes right back to his usual stance as soon as he can, his back as straight as a board.

Another bout of silence, and you suddenly can't handle the overwhelming discomfort anymore. You stand abruptly to your feet, gathering your things into your arms haphazardly.

“Well, um, we’re gonna go back inside,” you announce without meeting his shaded eyes. “So you can go take a break, right?”

“Affirmative.”

Maya barely holds a snicker at the scene, joining you in collecting her bag, though she does so with much less urgency than you. “See you around, Mr. Kennedy,” she giggles as you pull her away, the agent responding with a single curt nod of his impassive face.

The lock clicks open, slow, heavy footsteps resounding against floorboards as the man makes his way inside the apartment. He shuts the door and lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as he leans his weight against the wood.

Leon is a man of stamina. And yet, despite training in fields, fighting bioweapons, and performing tedious drills, he’s coming home utterly exhausted today. Oh, and with a ridiculous tan… All because of you.

He kicks off his shoes and loosens his tie, his mind tired yet still running a thousand miles an hour. It keeps going in loops, replaying the way you so cleverly pointed out his lack of professionalism. It makes him want to bang his head against the wall.

He’s supposed to be good at what he does. He doesn't have anything else going on in his life for him not to be. Training and working have become the center of his days, ever since he was 'offered’ the position of an agent six years ago.

And he is good. Or at least, that's what his stern superiors occasionally let slip whenever he performs particularly well on a mission. He has grown more and more confident in his skills as he got better with every year. That is until you came along with your snarky little mouth and put him in his place. God, he can't stand spoiled, rich kids, and you fit the bill for that exact type.

He opens the fridge with slumped shoulders, his eyes tracing over containers of leftovers and a row of canned soda—no alcohol in sight. He’s usually proud of himself for not keeping any in easy access, forcing himself to go outside whenever the drinking itch arises. But this time he wishes he had a bottle of beer to wind down after an afternoon under the blazing sun. He settles on a ginger ale, bringing the cool can to the sunburned apples of his cheeks with a low groan.

He already hates this assignment. Hell, he doesn't even fully understand why he was picked for it. Sure, he's one of the most experienced people with BOWs—a still very new threat that not even military personnel are familiar with. But playing babysitter for the president’s daughter? That's a recipe for a headache.

Leon is a soldier, a special agent, maybe even a spy when the time calls for it. He’s not a bodyguard, and was never trained to be one. All he ever knew about protecting assets was ensuring their safety during critical extractions. But this is no extraction, this is a full time job the president ordered him into to protect his little princess. One that is already giving him a hard time and he’s barely started.

Shrugging off his jacket and pants to throw them on the armrest of the couch, he slumps onto the cushions in nothing but his button up and boxer briefs. Then, he opens the can with a hiss-crack-pop, bringing it to his lips for a much needed refresher. Unfortunately, his tired mind is still stuck at work even when at home, something he hasn't managed to deal with despite his best efforts. Compartmentalizing is hard when lives are on the line.

‘She’s your highest priority,’ the head of state had said. It made Leon internally wince at the prospects of failing, already dreading the repercussions. The ones involving his career would be bad enough, but it's the guilt that constantly gives him nightmares, ever since that godforsaken September night that forever changed his life. He now has to safeguard you through your fall semester, maybe longer if the president calls for it, and he cannot fuck this up no matter what.

His thoughts drift to you again, recalling that outing at the bar. It had been pure coincidence finding you there, since it was the night before his first shift as Detail Lead. He went for drinks to loosen his nerves over the task he felt unprepared for, only to spot you in that mini dress, giggling at your booth without a care. He wondered how you could act so clueless with a target on your head—it was only during the meeting with the president he figured out you were left in the dark.

Still, you sat next to him, talked to him, flirted, when he could have been someone very dangerous. He is dangerous. He just plays for the good guys. Or at least that's what he tells himself whenever the shame over being the government’s lapdog becomes too crushing. It’s not like he chose this path anyways. If not for the precious life of a little girl, he would have left gun-wielding ways behind for a calmer lifestyle, with lots, and lots of therapy. But he had to protect Sherry, so he’s here now.

Another sip of the ginger drink, and this time it's to cool down wayward thoughts at the memory of your little bikini. Thank God for sunglasses, because he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over you whenever he let his mind drift. It was like your ass was a goddamn magnet, and the weather only made it worse, making him feel like the heat was frying his head just as hot as the sight of your body.

Leon is not a man who stares. He does not ogle unless in settings where his gawking is welcome. So to have to fight the sweat clinging to his skin as well as the urge to look only made him more irritated. He never even paid much attention to tabloids or articles about you before. Not that you appeared in many with your limited public appearances. But he simply never paused to form an opinion of you prior, and now that has certainly changed.

Stubborn, that one’s for sure, seemingly reckless from that bar outing, and spoiled with the way you acted earlier. Like you owned the place—owned him—telling him how to do his job when he’s nervous shitless about messing up.

He felt put on the spot when you made him out to be some kind of weirdo hovering too close. What made it worse, however, is that he was already feeling like one from the sheer way his mind short circuited at the sight of you in that cover up. Then the feeling got exponentially stronger when you shrugged it off and the sun hit your body just right. Infuriatingly enticing in swimwear—he’s adding that one too.

He has to admit, though, your later attempt at offering food and water was unexpectedly considerate. But in the end, he chalks it up to your friend convincing you to do so, since she seemed a lot more amiable than you. He just wishes you did the same from the start, it would save him the headache of handling your disagreement with his presence. He also remembers how you had mentioned Agent Davis’s demotion in disappointment. He wanted to say he never wanted to take anyone’s place, but how was going to do that in front of the man that gave the order himself?

As he sits half dressed on his sofa, condensation from the ginger ale collecting on his fingers, he suddenly realizes how ridiculous he’s being. For whatever reason, he’s letting you—a college kid, of all people—affect him enough to sour his mood and nearly hurt his feelings. Since when does he get so worked up over an off-handed comment? He was called just about every name under the sun during his training, words should not be affecting him anymore.

Sloppy, pitiful, embarrassing, disappointment… The insults of his now deceased mentor ring in his ears like echoes from the cruel past. But he never held it at heart, not even when Krauser called him a dumbass, which made him internally laugh more than anything. And then, you show up and make a single comment about him hovering, and suddenly his insecurities flare?

Bullshit. He needs to get his head in the game.

No more teasing, no more chitchat—you clearly don't like him, and he's not about to force you to. Whatever attempts he had made at being laid back and friendly clearly backfired when you kept taking them as grade A offenses. But whatever. It’s fine. He doesn't like you either anyways, so it doesn't matter.

From now on, he’ll do his job, be professional, and push through this ridiculous assignment until it's done. Then, he can go back to his lonesome missions and ruthless training and leave babysitting behind. Zombies don't make him question himself like you do.

Next chapter coming soon.

Backflip as Foreplay

Content: smut, oral, heavy petting, some spitting, creamiest of pies, “just the tip”, panties stay on!

Masterlist ❤︎

-

Leon is a creature of habit, if not a slave to his compulsions. Which sounds practical considering the absurdity of his job.

Spending decades wading through nightmares is why operating in violent extremes has become a language he intuitively understands. His obsessive streak seems reasonable if he views it as the price of survival, one that steadily rises in proportion to his scars and the amount of bullshit the government loves to toss him into.

Blowing out money is also a habit he enjoys indulging. If hell is where he’s destined to spend most of his days, he might as well do it in style. If he sinks an obscene fortune into the cars and bikes sitting in his garage, it’s only because he’s cheated death from a creature the size of a goddamn tank—crawling massive thing with repulsive hairy legs. A fucking giant spider.

Older!Leon Kennedy x Reader

You've always been good at letting the comments about your relationship roll off your back, but some days you're stronger than others, and when you overhear your coworkers making nasty comments about your husband, it sticks with you.

based on this request

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie@venus-in-roses

It happens more often than you’d like. Entitled people commenting on your relationship, sharing their unsolicited opinions, emboldened by a deceptive voice in their heads that tells them you want to hear what they have to say.

Typically, you’re able to brush it off. Yeah, Leon’s older than you–much older–and he warned you of what people would think when they saw you together, whether it be at the grocery store while the two of you shopped for produce, checking the mail together when a nosy neighbor had nothing better to do, wearing him on your arm at a work event. You didn’t care–and you still don’t, to an extent–you just wanted to be with him, come hell or high water. And having him by your side was well worth it. 

re2! leon pampering his girl

tags: fluff, suggestive, leon kennedy x reader

The room was still dark with quiet blue hues of the early morning seeping in through the gaps left in the curtain. Leon’s eyes blinked open, and for a second he stayed still, feeling the warmth of you beside him. He shifted closer, the matress creaking softly, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss on your cheek.

His thumb stroked your jaw, moving a lock of hair out of your face. He watched you as a small smile tugged onto his lips.

“My beautiful baby” he breathed, his voice slightly rough. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He gave you one last kiss to your forehead before sliding out of the bed. He didn’t wanna wake you, it was a special day and he couldn’t mess it up.

Leon didn’t have a lot of money— being a rookie cop left his bank account looking pretty sad but he had a plan. He’d spent weeks tucking away a little bit of cash here and there, even skipping lunches sometimes to save money just to make sure that today was perfect.

He finally slipped into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. leaning his hands on the edge of the sink, he stared at his reflection trying to fix his messy blonde hair.

“Happy birthday” he whispered to himself in the mirror, Nope “Happy birthday, sweetheart” he bit his lip, ears turning pink. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair for one last time and stepped back into the room.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna overthink it

Checking on you again, he saw that you were still fast asleep. He let out a relieved sigh and moved quickly to the living room to prepare everything for you.

His movements were a little clumsy as he tried to tie the strings of a few balloons he got in your favour color. Next, he carefully laid out a dress he’d saved up for, he knew you would look amazing in it. Beside the dress, he finally placed the small, wrapped box holding your gift inside.

He stood back, his chest swelling with nerves and so much love. He wished he could buy you a diamond the size of a fist, but for now, this was his everything.

With a final look at the setup, he headed for the kitchen. It was time to prepare your favourite breakfast and brownies he had spent all night worrying about. He pulled out the recipe from a cookbook he knew you loved, he just hoped he’d do this correctly and arranged all the ingredients and started getting everything ready.

He looked like a mess, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and a smudge of flour across his cheek. Every time a fork clattered or the toaster popped, he’d freeze, his eyes darting to the bedroom door in panic, praying that his clumsiness hadn’t ruined the surprise.

By the time he finished, the kitchen looked like a small cyclone had hit it. There were chocolate thumbprints on the counter and flour smeared mostly everywhere. But as he looked down at the tray, he let out a shaky, proud breath. He wiped his messy hands on his sweatpants, adjusted his shirt and headed back to you, heart thumping against his ribs.

The first thing that pulled you from sleep wasn’t a sound but a scent. The rich aroma of the chocolate, and melted butter filled the house. You shifted under the sheets but before you could even sit up, the bedroom door pushed open.

Leon is standing there, his hair ruffled, shirt tucked in unevenly and a serious expression that quickly melts away into a shy, flustered grin when he sees your eyes open.

“Oh—you’re awake!” He practically trips over his own feet rushing over to your side of the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress, hovering over you. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart, my love, my princess” he says, his voice a little higher than usual because he’s so excited. He doesnt wait for you to answer before he’s leaning down to shower you with kisses.

He starts with pressing kisses onto your forehead, then your nose, and then peppering tiny, soft, wet smooches all over your cheeks “I didn’t burn the eggs this time, y’know” he mumbles against your skin, sounding very proud of himself “Well, only the first batch. The second one is perfect. Just like you baby.”

You laugh, and the sound makes his face turn a soft shade of pink. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, giving you a warm, ticklish kiss there that makes you scrunch up your shoulders.

“Leon!” you giggle, reaching up to run your fingers through his messy blonde hair.

“I mean it” he says pulling back, just enough to look you in the eyes. He looks so adorable, leaning in to capture your lips in a proper, sweet kiss.

When he pulls away, he’s beaming “I have a dress for you out there. And balloons. And….okay, just come see. Let me carry you?”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to say no before he’s already scooping you up in his arms.

He walks you into the living room and your eyes go wide while his are locked onto your face to see your reaction. He sets you on the sofa but doesn’t let go, his hands still resting on your waist.

“Do you like it? I know it’s not much” he says and leans in to give you another kiss on the tip of your nose “You look so pretty when you’re surprised”

“Baby, it’s all I’ve ever wanted and you didn’t have to—”

Before you could even thank him, he says “The food!”

He rushes over and comes back a second later with a tray with everything made exactly the way you like. He sits down right next to you and starts hand feeding you the first bite.

“Is it okay?” he asks “Mmm” you nod smiling and lean in to press a messy kiss onto him.

“Good, because I want today to be perfect. I want every birthday you have from now on to be with me” He gets a little shy after saying something so bold so he hides his face by burying it in your shoulder, giving you more smooches along your collarbone.

“I love you so much” you say leaning back into his touch

“Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl”

Once the breakfast is cleared, Leon pulls you onto his lap. He’s sitting back, and you are tucked perfectly between his legs, leaning against his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Okay, the main event," he whispers reaching for the small, neatly wrapped box placed on the table. "I had to save up for a few weeks, so it’s not anything crazy...but when I saw it, I just thought of you."

He hands you the gift, hoping you’ll like it. As you tear away the wrapping paper, you find a delicate, silver toned locket. Inside, he’s tucked in a tiny, slightly blurry photo of the two of you from a carnival date last month.

“It’s beautiful, Leon. I love it so much” you breathe, turning around to look at him.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too cheap?” He looks so vulnerable, like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head. When you lean in to kiss him, he meets you halfway with so much passion, he nearly knocks you both off the sofa.

“I wanted to buy you the whole store” he mumbles while leaving more wet kisses on your face “Oh, Leon” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips “I just want you all day baby. That is more than enough”

“I mean it though” he says softly “I promise one day, I’ll get my girl all the things she deserves. A big house, fancy dinners…everything”

“Thank you so much” you say, overwhelmed with all the love he’s given you

He squeezes you tight against him “I also made brownies”

“Brownies?” you ask excitedly

“Yeah, although they’re a little crunchy on the edges, but the middle is gooey.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Anything for my girl” he says smiling before he’s leaning in again, his lips soft against yours. It’s a slow sweet kiss that tastes like the sugar from the brownies he sneaked in while he cooked. When he pulls back, he’s wearing that dorky grin that makes your while face light up.

“Actually” he murmurs “I think I missed a spot”

He starts a trail of butterfly kisses from your jawline all the way down to your collarbone. Every time you giggle, he hums against your skin. He’s so focused on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

He pulls you even closer “You smell so good” he whispers “I was so nervous all morning, but sitting here like this? everything feels perfect”

You wrap your arms around his neck, straddling him. “thank you thank you thank you, you’re the best”

Leon chuckles “What does the birthday girl wanna do today?”

“Movie with your brownies” you reply and lean in licking his lips, you love how Leon still gets flustered every time you do it

“God, I love you so much it’s actually distracting. How am I supposed to be a serious cop when all I can think about is coming home to this?”

“Best birthday ever baby!” you say “And it’s not even noon yet”

He lets out a soft laugh tilting his head to nibble onto your ears. “My girl”

You look over at the dress Leon had carefully laid out. You look back at him, sitting on his lap, and whisper that you want to try it on right now.

Leon’s face lights up with excitement "Really? yeah—yeah, of course. Go ahead," he says, reluctantly letting you slide off his lap. He leans back against the sofa cushions, his eyes following your every move as you grab the dress and head toward the bedroom.

A few minutes later, you step back out. and Leon looks like a man who’s completely forgotten how to breathe.

The dress fits you perfectly, hugging every curve exactly the way he had imagined when he was staring at it in the shop’s aisle.

“Leon” you say smoothing out the bottom “What do you think?”

He doesn’t answer at first, but instead walks towards you and circles his hands around your waist.

“I think” he rasps “that I did a really good job picking it out. Maybe too good”

He leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. His hands slide down from you waist to your hips “You look incredible”

His lips graze the skin behind your ear just enough to make you shiver.

“You look so beautiful it actually hurts” he mumbles against your skin, his grip tightening. "And all I can think about is how much I want to take it off you”

“Leon” you breathe

He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, tugging it down.

"Forget the movie honey” he whispers, leaning in until your lips are brushing. "I think I've got a much better idea for how we can spend the rest of your birthday.”

“I want that baby” you say softly

He captures your mouth in a deep kiss, his hands already searching for the zipper at the back of the dress. "Happy birthday, baby” he breathes into the kiss “Let's see if I can make this the best one yet."

The semester is finally over, and Leon wants to treat you right after all your hard work.

CW: Fluff and smut, Leon x gender-neutral!Reader, age gap, post-RE9 Leon they both deserve nice things, mild RE9 spoilers, short and sweet.

WC: 1,082 words

Taglist: @remiratboi

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

You stared at the poorly-made webpage of your university’s grade portal with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Exams had finished last week, but the following week had you waiting impatiently for your final grades to drop. This semester had been harder than any other in and you had worked your ass off to push through. Lots of late nights spent on assignments, weekends eaten up by annoying group projects, afternoons spent in office hours. Yeah, you were glad it was done.

“Sweetheart, you still have a few more minutes before grades are posted,” a deep voice said from beside you.

You glanced away from your laptop on the coffee table as Leon slid into the sofa beside you. You let him pull you against his side and kiss the top of your head, always happy to receive his affection. As hard as the semester had been, it would have been outright unbearable without Leon as your partner. He made sure you stayed fed and hydrated on your busiest days, drove you to study groups, helped you with homework (when he understood it, he often would chuckle about how much smarter you were than him, to which you would roll your eyes), and he stayed by your side with his boundless love for you.

[RE9 Leon Kennedy x fem!Reader]

Summary: Sex pollen galore, but listen: you and Leon both work at the DSO and you hate each other kicking my feet, giggling

Masterlist

Notes: Thank you guys so so much for 5- *checks notes* 600?! How did that happen so fast? I swear I started writing right away.

word count: 4.5k

Warnings: nsfw, sex pollen, non-con if you squint, age gap, younger reader, semi-public sex (sorry Sherry), oral m!receiving, bratty reader, slight daddy kink, orgasm denial at the verge of death, subby Leon?, Leon So much cum Kennedy receiving the blowjob of his life and seeing god holy shit what even is this

Part 1

Pairing: Post-RE4!Leon (28) x Fem!Reader (27). No established relationship

Synopsis: The year is 2005. You were hired as a field analyst at USSTRATCOM and have your eyes on an elite field agent named Leon Kennedy. The first mission you’ve been assigned to has you meeting new faces and running into Leon more, who happens to be on the same team as you. You find yourself learning whether coworkers can also be friends, and fighting against your growing desires for the handsome agent on your team.

Tags/CW: MDNI, smut (fantasies while f masturbating, eventual full smut in future parts), slow burn, angst, fake relationship, grinding, physical touch, cursing, annoying ex bf, new characters, immersive story, friendships, workplace, eventual canon-typical violence in future parts, reader is very aware in most cases but has a hard time telling when other people are into her

WC: 11.1k

AN: My debut fic!! This is my baby and I’m so excited to share it with you. Feedback is welcome and appreciated. Especially with the tags, I want to make sure I tag everything appropriately.

Grab a snack, get cozy, and come with me to fall in love with Leon all over again. ❤️

Spotify Playlist: All of my Senses | Leon Kennedy Mix of more current songs that fit the vibes and 2005 top hits. If you use a different platform for music, feel free to create a playlist there with the same songs and link in comments for others if you like! More songs will be added with future parts of the story.

You've been working in security for the government for a few years and were recently recruited into a top-secret position in the United States Strategic Command, USSTRATCOM for short. The majority of your experience is in analysis; gathering information from field agents, consolidating it, and reporting your findings to government officials to inform their next steps. However, this position requires you to get your hands a little more dirty. You'll be expected to join agents on their field assignments and gather information they may have otherwise missed. You were told the field agents are primarily responsible for eliminating safety threats, though with the unavoidable safety risks that come with this position, basic self-defense training is your first assignment.

The training sessions have been one-on-one with lower-level field agents from various security branches. It's been going well actually, apart from the constant soreness due to your muscles moving in ways they aren't used to. Today, you've been paired with a man around your age named Dustin. He's been a bit more handsy than the other agents, but you chalk it up to his teaching style and the more difficult work you've been doing today.

On a water break, your eyes travel around the training room, glancing at the other agents engaging in their own workout sessions. You've had your eye on one agent in particular, Leon Kennedy, an elite agent who reports directly to the president and has completed unimaginable missions. You'd heard his name come up from time to time in your last position, but didn't know he would be as...attractive as he is. He's been your preferred eye candy during these training sessions, and your eyes are slightly let down when they don't find him in the training room today.

"Ight, let's get back to it," Dustin's words snap you back to your training.

Today, you have been practicing striking in order to create space between you and a potential attacker. Dustin has been able to dodge most of your attempts thus far, and sometimes he even counters them, wrapping you in holds. You're doing what he tells you, but it's just not working out. You start to wonder if you're too slow for this.

"Again," Dustin orders.

Your stance and footing follow his previous instructions, and your dominant hand tries to find his eyes to stun him. Once again, he intercepts your arm and puts you in another choke hold, his face too close to yours.

“C’mon, not again,” he says with the slightest smile, breath against your cheek.

You try to wriggle free, and after many seconds too long, he releases you.

"What am I doing wrong?” You ask, frustration starting to show. “I feel like I'm following everything you told me perfectly."

"What exactly did you tell her to do?" The question comes from an unknown voice behind you. You turn around and see... Leon Kennedy.

"Uhh, hey Kennedy," Dustin starts. His tone seems nervous.

Leon's face is still written with inquisition, waiting for Dustin's answer.

"I'm just teaching her basic striking moves, like I was told to today," Dustin finally responds.

Leon turns to you, eyebrow raised. "What did this guy tell you to do?"

You show him the movements as you speak the instructions you were given.

"I think I just need to be faster," you finish.

Leon moves his focus back to Dustin after your demonstration, his brows furrowed and his tongue pushing up against the back of his bottom lip. He turns back to you and says with a head shake, "Alright, your training's done for today."

"What?" you respond, confused.

"Forget everything you've learned today, go home, and get some rest. You can start fresh tomorrow."

Did you do something that wrong? Training had been going decent enough until today, what gives? You look at Dustin and back at Leon, eyebrows pursed together in confusion and worry.

Leon picks up on this and offers, "You didn't do anything wrong. It's teacher error."

"Oh," your eyes nervously dart to Dustin and back to Leon. "Um... I guess I'll get going then." You nod and head towards the locker room.

Before you go through the door, you glance back to the two men and see Leon seemingly berating Dustin. Weird.

Your training concluded after a couple more weeks, though Dustin was never your trainer again. Seems it was in fact teacher error, because when you learned striking with another trainer, you picked up on it much more easily.

Now that training is over, your coordinator has your first field placement for you. The TLDR of it is suspected cult activity around an abandoned Umbrella facility in rural North Dakota. Before you and the team are sent out there, you have to attend some informational briefings to get caught up on the situation and make plans for executing the mission. The team consists of you, two other field analysts, and three agents, one of which happens to be Leon Kennedy.

You listen intently in these meetings and participate when it makes sense, but you have to admit you also enjoyed drinking up more glances at Leon in this setting. His stoic demeanor draws you in like a moth to a flame. That aside, this cult shit seems pretty fucked up. The mission ahead of you will be no joke, and quite the introduction to this new position of yours.

After one briefing session, Leon comes up to you as you're walking to lunch. "Hey, sorry to break up your training session a couple weeks ago," he smirks a little. "I'm Leon."

You laugh politely, "I'm sure you had a very good reason, Leon. I'm [y/n]. It's nice to formally meet you."

"Likewise," he nods. "So, what do you think of everything so far?"

"It sure is...something. Gonna be one hell of a first mission for me," you chuckle.

"Ah, I can relate to that," Leon responds.

"What was your first mission like?"

"Well," he begins, "my first—and only—day as a cop was the day everything went down in Raccoon City."

Oof. "Oh wow, that is quite the start," you exclaim with an exhale. You’re familiar with the grave details of the horrors that took place there, which were concluded with a missile strike that leveled the city. "I think your first mission might have mine beat. I can't imagine what that was like."

"Well to be fair, we don't really know everything that awaits us in North Dakota," he counters.

"What a comforting thought," you laugh and widen your eyes at him. He returns a chuckle and looks to the ground. His hands are in his pockets, arm muscles accentuated from his wrists to the sleeve of his t-shirt. He reminds you of ice, hard and cool.

"You want to grab lunch with me? I'm going to the café down the road," you offer.

"Nah, I brought my own lunch today. Thanks though," he replies.

"Alright, well I'll see you at the next briefing," you smile and wave before heading out the door.

Another day, another round of briefing and planning. The current session is nearing the end, and one of the other analysts, Cal, a man maybe a bit older than you, is going on about one of his past experiences. It's not even really related to the subjects that were discussed in this meeting, and you're not entirely sure why he's talking about this. He’s done this in other meetings as well. Either he has an elevated sense of self-importance, or an unfortunately impaired sense of situational awareness.

"It was incredible - on my left was agent Ramsey eviscerating the colossal spider, and on my right - the vial we were looking for. You probably can't tell from just looking at me, but I've got some experience in lockpicking. I knew I had to..."

Your chin is resting in your hand and your mind is drifting as the story keeps falling from his mouth with no apparent point, or end, in sight. You take this opportunity to steal a glance at Leon, the smallest of which would be far more satiating than this guy's monologue.

When you look in his direction, however, you find that he was already looking at you, his chin also resting in his folded hands. Your eyes flick back to Cal, feeling as if you'd been busted, but then they slowly find their way back to Leon, who is still looking at you. You smile lightly behind your fingers and raise your brows at him as if to ask, ‘you too?’. He raises his in return and subtly rolls his eyes. You send yours back to the analyst, where they remain until someone points out that it's lunch time.

You head to the door to leave the conference room, excited to decompress with your daily café run, when you're stopped by Cal.

"Hey, newbie," is what you hear from behind. You turn your head to look at him and offer up a "hey" back, and he catches up with you as you're exiting the room.

"Hearing a story like mine probably would've freaked me out if I were in your shoes, and I totally didn't mean for that, so I want to apologize if I scared you. Not every mission is that intense, I swear," he raises his fingers in 'scouts honor'.

It didn't scare you at all actually, but you don't want to make him feel bad. "Oh, don't even worry about it. These briefings are really helping desensitize me to the kinds of sights my future seems to hold," you laugh coolly.

"Oh, but I didn't even finish my story, sweetheart.” Your eye twitches. “I can catch you up over lunch, though I must warn you - it might push you over the edge if you aren't mentally ready."

So an elevated sense of self-importance it is.

"Thank you, but I actually-"

"[y/n]? You coming?" A voice reaches you from further down the hall. It's Leon, walking towards you.

"Um-" you start,

"You're a slow walker. Let's go, I'm starving." Leon adds.

Gathering what he’s is doing, you respond, "Oh..yeah sorry, was just finishing up with Cal." Seems Leon got the situational awareness that Cal was spared. You turn to the analyst, "I'll have to take a rain check, I'm booked for lunch today."

"I don't mind joining you guys for lunch, can fill you both in on the rest of the story then," Cal responds.

"Thanks Cal, but that won't be necessary. I've gotta go over some new-hire stuff with [y/n]. Be seeing you at the next briefing." Leon’s words shut down any future attempts Cal might have made, and he grabs your hand to speedwalk the two of you out of the building, muttering more about how hungry he is.

Leon releases your hand once you make it outside and looks down at you. His eyes are squinting from the sun, and he's wearing a knowing smirk.

You burst out laughing, and he joins in with a few laughs himself.

“Dang, there’s those elite agent skills I’ve heard so much about,” you start.

“It’s why they pay me the medium bucks,” he responds, making you giggle again.

"Come on, we better get to the café before he catches up," you say casually, but deep down you’re really hoping he joins you this time.

The corner of Leon's mouth lifts. "I suppose I kinda have to join you now, don't I?" He puts a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the beaming sun while he looks at you.

"Well, how else am I gonna get my new-hire information?"

"Ah, good point. Guess we better get going then."

The walk to the café started with light conversation about food, and evolved into heated debate about the best coffee order.

“I’m telling you, I get an iced caramel latte from every coffee place I’ve gone to ever, and you can really tell the vibe of the place from how they make theirs. I’ve never had a latte from one place that tasted the same as a latte from another place.” You argue soulfully.

“And I’m telling you, black coffee, maybe with a smidge of creamer, is the only reasonable way to determine the quality of an establishment. You can’t fight me on this.” Leon retorts.

“Oh I promise you, your facts and logic are no match for what I feel in my heart. So, it’s actually you that can’t fight me on this.” 

The bell on the door jingles as you open it to enter the café.

“Ah, there’s [y/n]. Same thing today, I venture?” The barista with the cool tattoos you see almost every day greets you.

“Hi, yes please. And whatever this guy wants - I owe him one.” You motion to Leon.

“Yeah, I don’t think so lady.” Leon protests with a shake of his head, and you’re not that surprised. But lucky for you, you’re still in an arguing mood.

“Oh please, just let me thank you this one time. You have all your life to buy your own black coffee with a smidge of creamer.”

“Nice try, but you really can’t fight me on this one,”

“What can I get for you, sir?” The barista interjects, probably done with this back and forth.

Leon looks up at the menu, and you sneakily slip the barista enough cash to cover your and whatever Leon’s order ends up being.

“I’ll take a medium coffee and a grilled chicken wrap, please,” he states as he pulls out his wallet.

“Great, you’re good to go then,” the barista responds.

Leon hands the barista cash, and the barista waves it away as Leon registers what they had said. He looks at you with his brows furrowed together in question. You smirk and turn on your toes to go sit down at a small table with two chairs.

Leon joins you at the table. “You get free food here or something?”

“Nope, just slipped the barista some money while you were looking at the menu. Don’t worry, I included enough for a tip, too.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, you’re trouble,” Leon huffs.

“Hey, you can get me back another time. No pouting.”

“Fine.” Leon crosses his arms and sits back.

“...It looks like you’re pouting.”

“I’m plotting my revenge. It’s different.”

“Fine.” you smirk and mirror his posture.

After a few moments of feigned juvenile silent arguing, your food and drinks arrive.

“Wanna try my latte?” You offer.

“Sure, if you try my coffee.”

“I can already tell you I won’t like it.”

“Same goes for yours.”

You stare at each other.

“Fine let’s do it.” You say.

You switch cups and both contort your faces once the drinks hit your tongues.

“Oof, that’s hot. And so bitter it sucks the joy from my tongue. You willingly drink this??”

“Yours is so sugary I’m surprised it’s not called caramel milk with coffee flavor.”

You switch cups again and sip your respective drinks.

“Much better,” you say in unison, chuckling at the accidental jinx.

You both start going to town on your food. Your eyes gaze outside the window while you sip your latte, observing the bustling street and how it contrasts in comparison to this peaceful moment inside the café. Sitting in silence with Leon doesn’t feel awkward at all, and neither of you rush to say something to fill the empty air.

Perhaps because the air wasn’t actually empty. The atmosphere during your time together today has been surprisingly easy and playful. It feels almost natural being around him. You want to know more about him, but you’re also enjoying soaking up whatever this moment already is. Plus, it’s not like this is a first date or anything in which get-to-know-you questions are swapped. Hmm, it would be nice to go on a date with Leon…

Nope, head back to the present. Coworkers are off limits. You blink a few times to get yourself back out of your thoughts and look back at Leon, who is also gazing out the window, a sliver of a light reflection bouncing off his cheek.

“What do you think of DC?” You ask. “Probably a bit different from Raccoon City, hm?”

Leon’s gaze remains out the window. “Well I’m not actually from Raccoon City, that was just my placement after graduating from the police academy.”

“Ah, so really, you’ve only been to Raccoon City for a day.”

“Bingo.” He continues looking out the window. You get the feeling that this isn’t a preferred topic for him, so rather than pressing further, you think of a way to steer the conversation.

“The busyness of the city is nice sometimes, but part of me wants to live in a small, rural community,” you start. “Not too realistic with our jobs, though.”

“Yeah, not really, unless an hour-plus-long commute interests you.” His eyes float back to you.

“Yeah that’s a no from me,” you respond.

You take the last bite of your food and Leon does the same.

“Should we finish our drinks here or on the go?” You ask.

“Woah there, we haven’t even gotten to your new-hire information,” Leon responds.

You huff a laugh. “You serious?”

“Super serious.”

You study his face for any signs of sarcasm. “Interesting. Well, hit me with it then.”

“On second thought, this might not be the most ideal setting. Drinks to-go it is.” He nods and stands up with his drink.

“Sir yes sir,” you gesture a salute and follow Leon out the door.

The two of you make it back to the building and Leon leads you to his office at the end of a hallway, giving you a nice view of his muscular back. Shut up.

The office itself isn’t anything special, apart from the fact that he has his own office. Sure beats the cubical farm where you do your work. The room is dimly lit by a single desk lamp.

“I normally just work with just this thing on, can’t stand the hum of the fluorescent lights. But I can turn them on if this is unsettling,” Leon offers.

“No I’m with you, if I had the option my setup would be the same.”

Leon motions for you to take a seat in the chair across from his desk, then sits in his chair after closing the door.

“So, what’s this important new-hire information you got for me?” you inquire, genuinely curious.

“Hey now, I never said it was important.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He smirks in response.

“I just thought I could give you a brief overview of our team members.”

“Ooo, that would be great actually,” you respond, eager to learn more about your coworkers from Leon’s perspective.

“We can start with Cal, since the two of you are already best buds.”

You glare at Leon, earning another smirk from him.

“Guy’s a great analyst, but he doesn’t always know when to stop talking. If he finds–or makes–his way into a topic he wants to talk about, you’ll probably be stuck there for the next 20 minutes. Unless you’ve got some finesse.”

“Like the kind you demonstrated earlier,” you point out.

“Well, typically I go for the other option: not caring if I offend him and telling him to scram.”

“Cold.”

“Necessary,” he corrects. “And I think he’s used to it at this point. I recommend starting early to set a precedent.”

You sigh at the thought.

“Teresa is also a great analyst, and pretty much the opposite of Cal. She doesn’t talk often, but when she does, it’s relevant and helpful. She’s definitely a thinker.”

“Seems the two balance each other out,” you observe.

“You could say that. Teresa is also the oldest on the team and has a lot of experience in the position, so she’d be a great person to go to for advice if you need it.”

“Good to know, thank you,” you nod with appreciation. “How about the agents?”

“Jasmine is full of passion and energy. She seems to have really found her calling as an agent. You can always trust that her actions come from the motivation to make things right.”

“She sounds like a good one to look up to,” you say.

“Definitely. And she prefers honesty and directness, so don’t tip-toe around things with her.”

“Noted.”

“And I know the least about Vincent since I’ve only been on one other team with him, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a solid agent who gets shit done. He seems to prefer to do things independently, but he works well on a team, too.”

You soak in all this new information. “I really appreciate this, thank you.”

Leon nods.

“I think you’re forgetting an agent, though,” you point out.

He raises an eyebrow briefly before he realizes you’re talking about him. “Ah, Kennedy.” Leon leans forward, placing his elbows and forearms on his desk. “Whatever you do, do not follow him into his office.”

Your mouth falls open with the corners slightly upturned. He laughs, which causes you to start giggling as well.

“Oh, and I believe there’s one more analyst you missed,” you note, coyly.

Leon smiles and sits back in his chair. “Ah yes, I’ve worked with her the least, but from what I can tell, she’s settling into the position nicely. Her coffee taste is questionable, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You stand up from your chair and point at him, “I don’t want to be fixed, you bum!”

Leon smiles again, “Bum?” He grabs at his heart in faux pain and you turn on your heel to leave. 

Stopping at the door, you turn back to him. “Seriously though, thanks for today. I’ll see you at the next meeting.” You smile and exit the room.

Back at your apartment that night, you’re sitting on your couch watching one of your guilty pleasures and munching on popcorn. You’re not fully paying attention to the screen though, as your head is somewhere else thinking about the activities that the day had brought. You had a lot of fun during your time with Leon. He’s a funny guy underneath his icy demeanor. You find yourself hoping to develop a close working relationship with him.

Just then, your phone buzzes, shaking you out of your thoughts. You glance at the screen to see it’s your ex. Again.

“wyd?” The text reads. You don’t plan on answering it. Back to your show.

A couple minutes later, another buzz. “[y/n], I miss u.”

You let out a voluminous sigh. You don’t have unlimited texting, though it’s not like it would matter if you did, since the last fifty messages you sent him telling him to leave you alone have obviously not had an effect.

Buzz. “1 mistake shouldnt separate soulmates” 

You laugh out loud reading that one. You respond, “youre right. cant wait to find mine”. You could cough up 10 cents for that text.

Buzz. “babyyyy”

Eyeroll. Eight months. It’s been eight months since you caught him cheating and immediately ended things. Eight months, and he still isn’t leaving you alone. You’re exhausted, and there is no part of your heart, mind, or body that still wants anything to do with this man.

Buzz. “i know how 2 get u 2 forgive me ;)”

He can’t be serious. How you spent two years with him and not seen through the bullshit, especially given your line of work, astounds you.

You move to get ready for bed and try to distract yourself with your thoughts. You find yourself wondering if Leon is in a relationship and what his history is like. You wonder how he treats a woman, and start fantasizing about how he might treat you. What sort of things make him squirm, and what his touch might do to you…

Your core is heating up as these thoughts persist. It’s also been eight months since you’ve been intimate with someone, and your body longs for that type of connection again.

Now you’re snuggled up under your covers, lights off, phone silenced. Sure, coworkers are off-limits, but there’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy. You allow your dirty mind to run wild. 

You’re under Leon’s desk with your lips around his throbbing cock. His breaths are getting heavier as you bring him closer to the edge. You start touching yourself in response, letting out moans while your mouth is full of his hard member. Leon pushes his chair back, taking himself out of your mouth, and lifts you up to place you on your back on his desk. He rips off your bottoms and leans his body over yours to make out with your raw lips while he lines himself up at your dripping entrance. He pushes himself in, and you break away from the kiss to let out a moan.

You start touching yourself under your pajama bottoms.

He ruts in and out of you without giving you time to adjust to his length. You grab onto his bulky arms that frame your body as you attempt to take him all in. Leon’s grunts mix with your moans of pleasure. He speeds up his thrusts and you start making tight circles on your clit. The grip of your walls around his cock increases in response, and his pace starts to stutter. Both of you are close. A few more pumps, and Leon spills everything inside of you with a breathy grunt.

Your fingers bring you to your own release.

It’s the last day of meetings before the team officially puts the plan into action, and there’s only one meeting left. You thought you’d be more nervous once you got to this point, but after what has felt like endless amounts of briefing and planning over the last few weeks, you’re ready to just rip off the bandaid. 

The meetings have also allowed you to become more familiar with your teammates. Each member fulfills the duties of their roles eloquently, while bringing their own unique skillsets to the table. After getting a feel for the group dynamics during the first week of meetings, you seemed to find where you and your skills fit into the big picture. It’s been kind of magical actually; being a part of a team in which everyone is working towards a common goal, and seeing plans and backup plans materialize from the information, ideas, and experiences shared by the team members. Your previous work in security had been much more independent, and you’re beginning to quite like the kind of work involved in this position.

You can’t get too far ahead of yourself, though, because despite the amount of planning that went into this mission, no one knows exactly what will be waiting for your team once you get there.

“Alriiight, ready for the last one, [y/n]?” You turn to see Jasmine approaching your cubicle with a bounce in her step, and places her hand on your shoulder while she awaits your answer.

“Just about,” you answer before saving your document and locking your computer. “Alright, let’s get in there.” You stand up and start walking with Jasmine to the conference room.

“So, how’re ya feeling about the fact that your first mission is practically within reach now?” Jasmine asks flippantly, but her question is threaded with genuine interest.

“Honestly? Not nearly as anxious as I thought I’d be. Not sure if that’s good or bad,” you huff a small laugh and look at Jasmine.

She looks back at you. “Doesn’t have to be good or bad. Just let it be.” She looks forward again and shrugs her shoulders. “Even if you get more nervous as we get closer, you know what needs to be done and can get through it. Don’t let your thoughts stop you from action.”

You nod shallowly and breathe in as you think about her words. You both stop walking as you reach the door to the conference room.

“Just my two cents,” she adds and looks at you, placing her hands on your shoulders supportively.

“Thanks Jasmine, that means a lot.”

She nods. “Alright, let’s get in there.” You both walk into the meeting room.

Leon and Teresa are both seated at the table already, along with the dispatch coordinator who will be going over the travel plans with the team.

“We’ll get started once the last two show up,” the coordinator states.

At the table, Teresa is nose-deep in a folder, Jasmine appears to be texting on her cell, and Leon is leaning back in his chair with his legs spread, hands behind his head and eyes closed, looking like a straight-up model. Because of course.

You’ve continued going to the café for lunch as normal, though Leon hasn’t joined you again. The guy really likes his packed lunches, and probably more so his alone time, if you had to guess. You don’t blame him–lunch decompressions have always been a high priority for you as well. You also haven’t necessarily asked if he wanted to join you again. The two of you have continued to exchange pleasant greetings, which now contain a sliver of more connection thanks to the one-on-one time you spent with him last week.

You then hear chatting from down the hall approaching the meeting room. Cal walks in, seemingly in the middle of another story, and Vincent at his side, looking for all the world as if he’s been drained of his life force. The two take their seats, and the dispatch coordinator gets right into it, casually cutting Cal’s story off.

“Okay team, let’s get started on this right away so we can get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“Want to get rid of us that bad, hm?” Jasmine jests.

“Knowing you agent Powers, you want to get onto the next step the most,” the coordinator fires back at Jasmine, looking at her over his glasses.

“Yeahhh, you right,” she admits and leans back in her chair, inviting the coordinator to continue.

The coordinator clears his throat. “I’ll give you the grand overview. The folders in front of you contain all the extraneous details you could possibly need.” He gestures to the folders and continues. “Your flight out of DC leaves at 6:03 AM on Sunday, so you’ll need to get to the airport pretty early. No partying Saturday night,” he glares at Jasmine once again over his glasses. Jasmine rolls her eyes.

“You’ll have a layover in Chicago for about an hour, then your flight to Bismarck will take off at 8:11 AM, central time. You’ll land in Bismarck around 10:30 AM, where you’ll pick up the two vehicles you’ll be taking to your hotel, about 3 hours away. Leon will be driving the Jeep, and Jasmine will be driving the 4Runner. Check-in at the hotel isn’t until three o’clock, so you may decide to explore the surrounding areas a bit leading up to that. Or take an extended lunch on your way up, I don’t care.”

Hearing all of this is suddenly making it feel more real. You feel a tiny pit in your stomach starting to grow, but keep your focus on the coordinator.

“After three, you’re free to check in. Each of you have your own rooms, so you’ll of course have to check in one at a time. From there, the mission is at the mercy of you and your plans.” The coordinator looks up from his notes and around at everyone listening.

You breathe in more deeply, silently.

“Oh, and we have you booked there for five days, but if you need longer for whatever reason, reach out and we can get the departure plans adjusted.” The coordinator concludes. “Any questions right away?”

The whole team remains silent, even Cal. You’re digesting the information, but don’t have any glaring questions on your mind.

Vincent is the first to respond. “None from me. Thanks, Tom.” Agreement and additional thanks from the team ensue.

“Of course. I’ll give you folks some time to review the folders and I’ll hang out if you have any follow-up questions.”

After going through the folders and asking Tom a few clarifying questions, the team began engaging in chitterchatter amongst themselves. Tom wished the team luck and excused himself from the meeting room.

“Feels weird that we won’t be coming back here on Monday,” you note.

“Yeah, and on top of that, we get to work on a Sunday,” Leon adds sarcastically.

“I think you mean traveling and road tripping with friends on a Sunday,” Jasmine corrects.

“Coworkers are not friends,” Vincent chimes in.

“Aw c’mon, you’re my friend, Vinny,” Cal puts his arm around Vincent’s shoulder. Vincent shuts his eyes in defeat.

“Coworkers can be friends,” Jasmine shoots back at Vincent. She then gasps as if she’s thought of a brilliant idea. “We should do some teambuilding before we take off on Sunday.”

“Jasmine, it’s three o’clock and we’re all pretty much ready to go home for the weekend,” Leon mentions, begrudgingly.

“I second that,” Teresa announces.

Jasmine groans. “People, it wouldn’t be one of those boring work teambuilding exercises.”

“Then what would it be? I am leaving the walls of this building no later than 3:30,” Leon presses.

“I’m leaving now,” Teresa goes to stand up, and Jasmine promptly pulls on her arm to make her sit back down.

“Nope, no one’s leaving just yet. Hear me out.” Jasmine’s eyes dart around intensely across all team members. “We are all going clubbing tonight.” Her announcement is delivered matter-of-factly. She closes her eyes, folds her arms, and sits back in her chair, awaiting the fanfare.

“I am SO down!!” Cal slams his fists on the table.

“Not happening,” Leon responds.

“Yeah I’m definitely leaving,” Teresa moves to get up again and Jasmine presses her back down.

“Come onnnnnn,” Jasmine groans. “Hear me out again,” she pauses. “It will be…fun.”

“Oh you should’ve started with that, count me in,” Leon replies.

“Really?!” Jasmine perks up.

“No.”

Jasmine’s head falls back and she lets out another groan. “I’m sorry everyone, but I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. As your team leader-”

“We don’t have a team leader,” Vincent interjects.

“As your implied team leader in spirit,” Jasmine continues, “a night to let loose and get to know each other better and have FUN is exactly what this team needs before shit gets serious again.”

“I’m with Jasmine, need I remind you all that we could literally die on this mission?” Cal adds. You observe everyone else on the team groaning in response, even Jasmine.

“Too far, Cal,” Jasmine responds.

“Oh I said the forbidden phrase,” Cal waves his hands in the air frivolously, “but as much as we hate to admit it, it’s true. I’m not saying we need to be reckless because of it, but we do deserve some fun.”

It’s silent for a moment, then Jasmine adds, “and I think a night like this is especially important since we have a brand new team member,” she looks at you, “all the more reason to have some bonding time, plus it’s two freaking days until [y/n]’s first mission ever, which is a major cause for celebration.”

The team has shifted their focus to you which causes your face to feel hot. You look around at everyone, and their silence tells you that they’re all actually thinking about the possibility. You sense that your input will move the needle one way or another. You’ve only been clubbing a couple times and don’t drink often, but you can’t deny that you think it would actually be fun. You’ve enjoyed your time with the team so far, and it would be nice to get to know them better outside of the professional setting. And you can’t argue that celebrating before your very first mission seems fitting. Especially since…y’know…you could……die…

Vincent speaks up with a sigh, “Well, it’s not like I had other plans tonight. If that’s how [y/n] wants to celebrate, I’ll tag along for a bit.”

“What do you think, [y/n]? You in??” Jasmine asks, seeking your stamp of approval.

You take a breath in, considering all of your previous thoughts. “You know what? Yeah, let’s party tonight.”

“YAAAAA that’s what I’m talking about!!” Jasmine cheers, raising the roof.

You look to Leon and Teresa, who have yet to announce their final attendance choice.

“Fuck it. You only get one first mission. I’ll join.” Leon states. Your heart flutters in response, against your mind’s will.

Teresa sighs, “I am too old for this.”

“You only have to come for 10 minutes and I’ll buy all of your drinks for you,” Jasmine quickly proposes.

“Deal.”

“YESSSS THAT’S MY TEAM!!” Jasmine roars, standing up and flexing her arms together in celebration. You giggle at her excitement, which is very contagious.

“Scooters, eleven PM, and if you don’t show, I will pluck out all of your nose hairs one by one.” Jasmine winks, throws up a peace sign, and trots out of the room. The rest of the team looks around at each other.

“God, that’s so late,” groans Teresa.

“I could actually use some nose hair plucking,” Cal adds.

It’s a little after ten PM and you’re digging in your closet to find something fitting for tonight’s occasion. You’ve done up your hair and makeup more than normal, but as anticipated, you’re struggling with what to wear. Since graduating college, your outfits have been much more professional-leaning, and you’re starting to wonder what your current style even is.

Your phone buzzes, prompting you to remove your head from your closet. A text. 

It’s your ex. Who else would it be? “club hoppin downtown” Another buzz. “come dance with me 2nite ;)”

You blink at your phone screen a few times. There are several clubs downtown, the chances of running into him are slim, right? Your hand involuntarily finds your nose hairs.

You force yourself to snap out of it. “Nope, you’re not ruining a perfectly fine night, Bradley,” you say aloud. You’re both adults, he just happens to be…himself. Which isn’t bad for most people, but Bradley is an exception. 

Shaking the bad vibes from your head, you return to your previous problem - your outfit. Digging into the depths of your closet, you stumble upon one of your favorite little black dresses from college. Little black dresses are always in style, you think to yourself. Let’s just hope she still fits…

You slither into the velvety minidress, guiding everything into place. It’s tighter than you remember, but it’s on. Looking in the mirror, you notice how the dress hugs your womanly curves more than it did the last time you wore it, the tiny specks of glitter shimmering as you turn to check yourself out. The fit makes the dress look more suggestive than it once felt on you, but you actually like it. The heels you reach for are red-orange ones - also from college - that add the perfect pop of color. You add a necklace, bracelet, and earrings to complete the look, along with your favorite perfume. 

Buzz. Another text.

“Oh my god shut UP!” you plead with your phone. However, when you look at the screen, you see that this text is from Jasmine.

“need a ride? got a friend to dd for me tonite”

With your apartment being in the heart of downtown DC, you’re actually within walking distance from Scooters. But the heels…yeah maybe a ride would be nice.

“that would be amazingggg” you reply.

Buzz. “kk send me the addy”.

You respond with the name and location of your apartment complex and resume your preparations for the night.

“Thaaaanks Joshy,” Jasmine says as she closes the door of her friend's car. The car drives off into the night, leaving you and Jasmine standing outside of Scooters, Jasmine now getting a better look at your outfit. “Woah girl, you look HAWT. See, this is why teambuilding is so important. How else would I have known you were a bombshell?!”

You giggle at her compliments and shoot them back to her, “You kidding? Did you see yourself before you left?”

She pulls you in for a side hug, “Awww this is the best. Let’s get in there now.”

The music is blasting and the bass is booming as soon as you enter through the doors, the sensations becoming stronger the closer you get to the main area of the club. Lights are flashing in various shades of blue, red, green, and is that purple? A smoke machine fills pockets of the dance floor, and the DJ is guiding the crowd through the waves of the current song. You observe all sorts of people on the floor; packs of girlfriends, groups of guys, and pairs of people dancing and grinding up on each other.

“Let’s grab a table first, maybe someone’s already here,” Jasmine suggests. You nod and walk with her to the booths that line the walls.

“I don’t see anyone yet…” Jasmine notes, “but it’s still a little early. Let’s sit here and I’ll text everyone where we’re at.” Both of you sit down at an empty booth and Jasmine starts punching away at the keypad on her phone. She’s a fast texter.

You continue your observations of the scene, when you notice Cal tearing it up on the dance floor.

“I see Cal,” you giggle. “He is not neglecting any of his limbs out on that floor!” Jasmine follows your gaze and smiles with amusement.

“We can let him do his thing while we wait for the others. You good here while I go grab some drinks for the table? I’m gonna need one for Teresa as soon as she gets here.” Jasmine explains.

“Yeah I’ll hold it down for us,” you reach for some cash from your purse. “Could you get me a long island please?”

Jasmine declines your money with a wave. “Let me get you this one to celebrate your first mission,” she says with a smile.

“Aw, thank you Jasmine,” you respond gratefully.

“Of course. BRB!”

You return your attention to the pandemonium within the club. You’re not usually one to directly participate in social settings, but you’ve always enjoyed watching and being involved from the side. And in a place like this, there isn’t a shortage of sights to take in.

After a few moments of looking around, you notice Vincent and wave him over.

“Hey, long time no see,” you jest when he approaches the table. 

He huffs a laugh in response. “Can’t believe I actually let myself get talked into this.”

If you had to guess, he appeared to be in his early thirties. Partying was probably a thing of the past for him, if he ever partook in the first place. 

“I know, this isn’t usually my scene either, but it did sound kind of fun,” you admit. The tables are far enough away from the music that you don’t have to scream your words, but you do have to speak louder than normal.

Jasmine returns with the drinks, managing to hold hers, yours, and Teresa’s in her hands. “Oh hey Vincent! I would’ve grabbed one for you if I knew you’d be here when I got back.”

Vincent chuckles, “I don’t know if you could have.”

You graciously accept your drink and start sipping on it. Jasmine sits next to Vincent in the booth after he scooches over. She asks him if he’d run into Cal yet, and the three of you admire Cal’s dance moves from afar.

The song transitions, and you see Cal making his way to exit the dance floor. At the same time, Teresa approaches the table. She’s wearing a cocktail dress, a denim jacket, and low-top converse.

“Clock starts now,” Teresa reminds Jasmine that she is only staying for ten minutes.

“Already got you your first drink,” Jasmine motions to the glass and Teresa takes it promptly. She’s downing the liquid surprisingly fast. “Oh, and clock starts once everyone is here,” Jasmine winks.

Teresa takes a break from her sipping to glare at Jasmine, who shrugs at her cheekily. You move in the booth to allow for Teresa to sit next to you, but before she does, Cal sneaks up from behind her with a “boo!”. Teresa didn’t move a peep and shot an unamused glare at Cal, causing the table to start laughing.

“Hey chums! Finally you’re here, I’ve been killing it out there,” he says, slightly out of breath with his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh we saw you, we didn’t want to interrupt your magic,” Jasmine responds.

“So generous,” Cal bows. “Just waiting on Leon then?”

“Yep, should be here any minute now from his text,” informs Jasmine.

“Okay, I’m gonna get shots for everyone,” Cal makes a beeline to the bar.

Your drink seems to be going right through you, so you offer Teresa to sit down in your place while you take a brief trip to the restroom. As you’re walking off, you hear Jasmine update Teresa that her timer starts once you’re back from the bathroom, even if Leon shows up before you.

You move with the bumping of the music and between the rays of colored lights as you carve your way to the restroom. As you’re looking around, you see a familiar-looking silhouette that sends a shiver up your spine, its owner looking a lot like your ex, Bradley. Just perfect. Guess you’ll be practicing your stealth skills at this teambuilding. You make sure your face is never within his view and keep your back to him as much as you can, sliding between groups of people until you successfully make it to the bathroom unseen.

After doing your business, you knew you’d have to exit the bathroom just as stealthily. Operating on the assumption that Bradley is in the same spot, you use the same methods to attempt to go unnoticed once again. While your head is crooked to the right, you accidentally run into someone that was coming from the left. Oh god, do NOT be Bradley.

You turn to look at the person so you could apologize, and see that it’s…Leon. Your heart flips in your chest and your words get stuck in your throat for a beat.

“-oh god, Leon, I’m so sorry,” you manage. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Stepping back, you get a better view of him. He’s wearing baggy, dark wash jeans and a tight black t-shirt that accentuates his muscles perfectly. He looks mouthwateringly hot. Your eyes return to his, and you see his find yours at the same time. His lips are parted, and his words take a beat to come out, too.

“[y/n],” he says, then a brief pause and blink. “No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking either,” he lets some air out in a short laugh that breaks some of whatever tension was just there.

Another brief moment passes as you both look at each other, then you say, “We should get to the table, come on I’ll show you where we’re at.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The two of you arrive at the table and you say, “Look who I ran into on my way back.”

Leon says “literally” out of the smirk in the corner of his mouth, just loud enough for you to hear. You suck in your lips to prevent a giggle from escaping.

Jasmine and Cal celebrate Leon’s arrival, and Jasmine promptly notifies Teresa that the timer will start once Vincent gets back from the bar. Teresa groans and takes her shot in one gulp.

“Heyyy, we were all gonna do shots at the same time,” Cal complains to her, the two now seated together. You squeeze in next to them, and Leon next to Jasmine.

Vincent soon returns with his drink, which prompts Leon to go get his own from the bar. Teresa puts her forehead to the table before Jasmine says anything this time.

Upon Leon’s return, the six of you are now–finally–sitting together at the table.

Jasmine picks up her shot, “to teambuilding, and to the most kick-ass team in the country!” Everyone clinks their shot glasses together, including Teresa with her empty one, and knocks back the burning liquid.

“To teambuilding!!” echoes Cal. “This certainly beats the actual teambuilding I did with my last team, oh boy is that a story. We-”

“I think it’s time to go dance,” Jasmine cuts him off. You and Leon stand up to let the rest of the team out of the booth.

“I’ll join you guys in a moment, I just need a little more alcohol in my system first,” you laugh lightly, sitting back down.

“Fine, but I expect you out there SOON,” responds Jasmine.

“Same, need more drinks” starts Teresa.

“We’ll stop at the bar on the way over, your clock is ticking and I need you dancing.” Jasmine protests and grabs Teresa’s wrist. Teresa’s limbs and neck go limp in agony.

“I’ll hang back with [y/n],” Leon decides, sitting back in the booth as well. “Still gotta work on my drink, too.”

“Fine fine fine. Everyone else, bar, then dance floor,” Jasmine declares, and the group gets on their way. Vincent makes a playful concerned face back at you and Leon as he follows.

The both of you chuckle and turn your attention back to your drinks. 

“Whatcha drinking this time?” you ask.

“Whiskey,” he takes a sip. “You?”

“Long island. Was crushed when I found out they don’t serve lattes.”

Leon lets air out of his nose into his glass as he takes his next sip. You catch your gaze floating to his biceps, to his forearms, his wrists, and his fingers which hold his drink, then snap your attention away to take a sip of your own.

“Some teambuilding, huh?” Leon smirks.

You chuckle. “Definitely the most…interesting teambuilding I’ve been a part of.” Leon nods and takes another sip.

“It’s fun being with everyone, I’m just not much of a dancer,” you continue.

“Hah, right there with you,” Leon responds.

You start to wonder how old everyone is on the team. Jasmine and Cal in particular have so much energy. "Random question," you start, "do you know how old everyone on the team is?" you ask curiously.

"Hm, I've got a general idea but I could be wrong," his eyes trail off as he thinks. "Teresa is about 36, Vincent about 34, Cal around 32, and I know Jasmine is 30 because she celebrated her thirtieth recently."

"Wow, I totally thought Jasmine was closer to my age or younger with the amount of spark she has," you say.

"Yeah, I think that will always be a part of her," Leon responds. "How old are you?"

"27."

"Ah, I remember those days," Leon says fondly.

"Damn, how old are you?"

"28."

You laugh and punch his arm, earning a giggle from him.

Sending your gaze to the dance floor, you see the group entering the crowd and beginning to move with the music, Cal powering up his limbs. Your view becomes dark when a figure steps in front of it. When you look up to find its face, you are greeted by none other than…Bradley.

“I see you got my text,” Bradley says with a smirk that makes you want to barf.

“Not by choice,” you say and turn your attention back to your drink. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

“Can’t think of anywhere better than with you, princess,” he retorts.

Exhaling with frustration, you place your hand on your brow and move it to your temple in a feeble attempt to separate yourself from this man. You send your gaze across the table to Leon, who looks like he is trying to connect the dots.

You then get an idea. A bad idea, but your inhibitions have been getting weaker with every sip, so before you can stop yourself, you look back at Bradley and say,

“Can’t you see I’m here with my boyfriend?” your hand gestures to Leon, though you can’t bring yourself to look at his face. “Please, for the love of god, go bother someone else.”

Bradley laughs boisterously. “Boyfriend, huh? You moved on pretty fast.”

“Eight months is a bit longer than zero, hm? I recall you ‘moving on’ while we were still together.”

“Babyyy, you know it didn’t mean anything,” Bradley begins to pout pathetically and you let out a groan, returning your head to your hands.

“Buddy, I think it’s time to leave,” Leon speaks up. You dare to peek at him. He’s looking at Bradley with a stern, yet calm face.

Bradley responds, “This is a public establishment, I can hang out wherever I want. Wanna do something about it, tough guy?”

Leon stands up stoically, his toned frame towering over the 5’8” Bradley. “Sure, want to take this outside quick?” he asks, nonchalantly.

Bradley backtracks with his hands up defensively, taking one step away from Leon, “Woah woah woah, I wasn’t talking about anything like that.”

“Ah my mistake, your message wasn’t very clear,” Leon takes a step closer to Bradley. “So let me make myself clear. Leave me and my girlfriend alone.”

Your jaw falls before you can catch it and you bring your hand to cover your mouth. Leon accepted the role you thrust upon him immediately and with grace, and you’re over here swooning internally at his friendly favor. Get it together.

“Yeesh, guess neither of you are fun,” Bradley starts to leave the table. “Who comes to a club to just sit and talk anyway? Losers.” Namecalling is all that unfortunate man has at his disposal.

Leon rolls his eyes and sits back down in the booth once Bradley is out of sight.

“Leon, I am so sorry for throwing that on you,” you begin. “Totally unprofessional of me to do to a coworker,” you start trying to overexplain, another sign that points to your increasing intoxication.

“Hey,” Leon interrupts, “totally fine, guy seems like a real douche.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you complain, sinking deeper into the booth. “I think you really scared him off though, so he might actually leave me alone tonight. Thank you, so much.”

“No problem at all.”

You take a long sip from your drink, which is almost gone. “I almost didn’t come when he texted me telling me to come to the clubs tonight. I just can’t get him off my back no matter what I try. I was worried if he saw me, it would only add fuel to his constant pursuit of me.”

Leon nods, taking another sip of his drink as well. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re worried you’ve been talking too much. 

He breaks the silence. “Want me to help get the message across?”

Does he mean punching Bradley or? “I couldn’t ask that of you, you’ve already done more than enough.” You avert your gaze back to your drink.

“You can ask that of me, and I would be happy to assist.”

Looking back up at him, you ponder for a moment. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

After finishing the last of his whiskey, Leon sets his glass down. “He might’ve been right about one thing,” he looks you straight in the eyes, “if we’re a couple, we should be out there dancing - together.”

Your heart skips. His words reach your ears, but not your brain.

Leon must see your gears turning and adds, “I’m just saying, we could play the part for a little longer, dance for a bit within his view, and that should show him that you are not to be fucked with anymore.”

You continue thinking, but in understanding and consideration this time. It does sound like a great idea, but dancing with Leon…

“We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I’m just-”

“Let’s do it.”

Leon laughs, “yeah?”

“Yes,” you stand and finish your drink, setting your empty glass on the table with determination. “Come on, my darling boyfriend, join me on the floor,” you extend your hand to him.

A smile grows on Leon’s face before accepting your hand and standing up with you. “Of course, my dearest girlfriend,” he bows and you giggle in response.

The two of you make your way to the dance floor, careful to not catch the attention of your other coworkers. Thankfully, the crowd is large. You both look for Bradley to make sure he will have a view of you. After a minute, you’ve located your target, and you position yourselves perfectly within his sight while still being in the rest of the crowd and away from the team.

“Sooo…” you look at Leon, nervous about the incoming next step.

“Ready?” he asks. He doesn’t seem nervous, which helps ease your own nerves. It’s just pretend.

“Ready.”

The music hits a wave and Leon’s hands reach for your waist, then yours for his shoulders. You start moving your bodies with the song, both pairs of eyes looking down to watch both sets of hips try to find the beat. Playing a part. Playing a part.

Finding the rhythm, you raise your head and he raises his. You’re looking up at him, and him down at you, and both of you smile and let out a laugh. His once-blue eyes now reflect whatever colors the LEDs are blinking.

“We’re doing it,” you say, impressed with yourself.

“Yeah we are,” the playful smile still across Leon’s face. "And don't look now, but he doesn't seem happy."

You chuckle eagerly.

The two of you continue moving your bodies with the music while holding onto each other. His shoulders feel big and sturdy under your grip, and his hands are strong yet careful against your waist. For some reason, neither of your gazes have left the other’s face. 

As the music keeps mixing in the air, you see his eyes slowly transform from playful to lidded, at the same time as his lips drip from a smile to parted in reverence. A shift in energy you feel, too. Your hands become softer on his shoulders, unbound and gliding around more freely, and the movements of his hands mirror yours, melting into your sides and moving softly up your back. Under the spell of the DJ, your hips become inches apart and your hands trace his shoulders, chest, and the base of his neck. His return to your waist, float to your low back, then find your hips, gently moving them with the beat, and you link your fingers behind his neck in return.

Leon leans in to your ear, “want to make him extra mad?” He pulls back to look for your response.

If you’re honest, you’ve forgotten all about Bradley. Your whole body is swelling in the ecstasy of the moment and all you want to do is whatever Leon has in mind. You nod.

As if on cue, the music catches another wave and Leon guides your hips to turn around. Your back is against his solid chest, and your ass is brushing his pelvis. His hands resume their gentle guiding on your hips following the currents of the song, and your body sinks back into the rhythm. 

Leon leans in to your ear again, and with a low, careful voice, asks “is this okay?”

You turn your head to look up at him. “Yes.”

His eyes lock yours in place, and your hips move more deeply into him. His hands trace lines between your hips and your sides with the motions of the music. You feel like an instrument in his practiced hands. A magnetism continues to pull the two of your gazes together, an electricity buzzing between your bodies. You blink slowly and deeply as you take in the melodies coursing around you. God, has club music always been this sexy…?

“What-” you and Leon stiffen at her voice, “-on Earth is going on here?!” Jasmine asks with astonishment and a shit-eating grin.

Just like that, the enchantment you were in was broken, and the two of you crashed back into reality. Your bodies separate and you exchange a brief look with Leon before turning to explain the situation to Jasmine. However, your words get stuck in your throat again.

“Oh! Yeah, we- it’s a funny story actually, um,” you try to begin. Your face is burning and you don’t understand why you’re so nervous considering the situation has a reasonable explanation. “Sorry,” you take a breath and walk a little further from the commotion so you don't have to yell your words. “My dumbass ex is here and he wouldn’t leave me alone at our table, so I panicked and told him that Leon was my boyfriend.”

“And that led to grinding?” Jasmine questioned, still smiling cheekily.

Leon speaks up, “well, even after that, the guy still wouldn’t leave until I kinda…threatened him,” he grimaces, and you interrupt to continue,

“And he hasn’t left me alone since we broke up, so we decided to make it CLEAR to him that I’m not to be bothered anymore,”

“Which led to our current situation,” Leon concludes smoothly.

“Huh,” Jasmine’s smile yet remains, “that was some pretty convincing work.”

“I’ve heard Leon was a top agent,” you respond with a coy tone to disguise your continued shaken state, “and he definitely used those skills tonight.” Leon huffs a laugh in response.

“Damn, I must’ve missed the sexy dancing training,” Jasmine winks and turns on her heel. “Come on, you two really have to dance with us now.”

The DJ transitions between songs and you desperately need to cool off before you can find yourself ready to dance again. Yeah, you’re warm, but your core is still on fire and it definitely should not be on fire. “I’m so sorry, I just need to run to the bathroom once more, alcohol goes right through me…” you overexplain and Jasmine lets out a groan. “But I promise I will sprint right back here!” You dart towards the bathrooms before Jasmine can protest.

There’s no doubt that the alcohol is coursing through your veins now, and your steps to the bathroom are a bit less graceful than your last trip there. Though you wonder how much of the loss of coordination is due to the alcohol and how much is thanks to the dancing. You feel sick from the pent up lust and need a cold shower, or dick, immediately.

You make it to the restroom and hold yourself up from the counter, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your face is flushed and your eyes give way to the alcohol at work. You take a few deep breaths to ground yourself, and run your hands and wrists under cold water.

It was just pretend. It was just pretend. It was just pretend.

You feel like a creep for reacting this way to Leon’s friendly gesture, which makes you feel overwhelmed in a new way. Guilt. Fuck. Get it together.

You take a few more careful breaths as you try to redirect your mind to the original purpose of the outing tonight. Building relationships with the team members. Celebrating the start of your first mission. Having FUN.

After slowly becoming more and more steady, both in mind and in body, you finally feel ready enough to get back out there and make good on tonight’s purpose.

You open the door to exit the bathroom and see Leon standing a few feet away, apparently waiting for you.

“Hey,” you say with an expectant tone, wondering what he’s doing over here.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You sense he has more to say, but he hesitates. “And, I’m sorry if the dancing was too much.” His eyes meet yours, and you can see concern written in them.

“Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry at all!” You begin, shocked he would even feel the need to apologize in this situation when he’s been nothing but helpful. “I’m truly sorry for bringing you into this mess in the first place,” you drop your gaze. “I hope I didn’t ruin our teambuilding by making things weird,” you utter bashfully and look back into his eyes.

Leon shows a hint of surprise in his reaction to your words. “Of course not, I suggested we dance in the first place.”

You consider his words. So, does he think the dancing was too far? Does he regret it?

Your head shakes off your thoughts and his words. “We should really join the group on the floor, lest we’re looking to lose some nosehairs.”

Leon huffs a laugh. “Yeah, let’s get out there.”

The whole group celebrates your arrival to the floor. All six team members have formed a mini circle and are finally dancing together. After about twenty, maybe thirty minutes, your body has loosened up and you move more freely. You’re having fun, and even more fun watching your soon-to-be friends express themselves to the music.

Jasmine is by far the best dancer - no surprise there. Her body moves in sync with the beat and her limbs are not shy taking up space. Cal’s limbs also take up space, though not nearly as gracefully. He’s even faux-grinded up on Leon and Vincent a couple of times. Vincent has let loose more than you were expecting, but in a more rigid and contained way than Jasmine and Cal. What you were not expecting was Teresa. Not only has it been well over ten minutes and she’s still here, Teresa has indulged in more drinks than anyone else in the group and has apparently been using them to fuel the borderline breakdancing moves she’s ripping out. They don’t flow as effortlessly and are rigid in their own way, but the woman is moving in dimensions that don’t follow the x, y, or z axis.

As for Leon, you haven’t dared to look at him as much, out of the guilt and embarrassment you couldn’t fully rid. But in the glimpses you did sneak of him, he appeared to be trying to let his limbs get heavier and looser with the pulses of the music, though remaining pretty contained overall.

Vincent is the first to initiate the end of the night, which prompts Leon to tag behind. Their exit brought your attention to the tiredness that had been growing in you. You ask Jasmine if she knows when her friend will be picking her up and if you can still hitch a ride. Teresa complains that everyone’s leaving too early, and Cal agrees. Yet, the end of the night still unfolds.

You make it back safely to your apartment, throw your heels to the side which had been removed upon stepping foot into the building, and flop face-first onto your couch. All the lights are off, the only source of illumination being the glow of the city and the numbers on your oven clock. You shut your eyes for a moment.

I SWEAR I'M TRYING ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: Your daughter arriving home after not giving signs of life is the last straw for you and Leon, your husband, to have an argument you both didn't want to have, specially since your relationship hasn't been the best in the past months ‼️ Angst to fluff ✹ PAIRINGS: RE9 Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader ✹ Find me on AO3 ✹Find me on Wattpad ✹ Join my WHATSAPP CHANNEL ✹ MyRESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST 💬 Currently thinking ideas of birthday fics since my birthday is this month...

Leon’s standing by the kitchen counter. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, revealing the veins on his forearms. If you were under completely different circumstances, that sight would’ve driven you crazy, but now…

Your eyes drift to the clock on the oven. 11.47 p.m. Your daughter still isn’t home and, even worse: she hasn’t given signs of life to either of you.

Bodyguard!Leon x First Daughter!Reader Enemies to Lovers

❌18+ MDNI❌

Rude. Blunt. Cocky. Overbearing. Those were the words that come to mind whenever you think of Leon S. Kennedy, the man whose job is to protect you, yet drives you completely mad while doing it.

[Reserved, out of the limelight, and adopted, that is what is known most about you. The last point is the tabloids’ favorite topic when it comes to articles about the First Daughter, theorizing about your biological family and how you ended up chosen by your adoptive parents. That, along with scrutinizing every single outfit you wear whenever caught by invasive paparazzi in public, calling your style everything from ‘busted’ to ‘tacky.’ You wish you could burn them all.]

cw: bodyguard!leon, fem!reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn (if you know me, you know i mean it), angst, fluff, eventual smut, canon divergent, political themes (but it's RE core), they're both stubborn and annoying, as one is in every e2l.

shoutout @sammimi19 @12soap34 @theebladestar for proofreading ✨