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porcelainseashore · 6 months

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Pairing: Guitarist! Leon Kennedy x Singer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You've joined Chris, Claire and Leon in Stars Rebellion as the band's new lead vocalist. If you thought chasing fame was hard, dealing with your growing feelings for a certain blonde guitarist might just take the cake.

Content & Warnings: Rock bands, friends to lovers, romance, slow burn, feelings realization, fluff and angst, swearing, recreational drug use, drinking, implied alcohol abuse, sexual harassment, suggestive themes, panic attacks, religious guilt, other Resident Evil characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Luis, Irons, Steve).

Authors' Note: Mostly imagined RE4R Leon in this, though he's a cocky little shit in the beginning and mellows out later. As inspo, I’ve had Ethel Cain’s Michelle Pfeiffer on repeat and you’ll see why in the story. Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for your wonderful feedback!

AO3 Link

It had only been a few weeks since you’d joined the Stars Rebellion, the band you were currently in, thanks to the recommendation of a friend of a friend. You’d somehow coasted along through college, finally free of your parents’ clutches, and made a new life for yourself along the way. It was as if you could be who you really were, without any tied past or history holding you back, and you’d never felt more alive.

You were backstage, warming up before it was time to head out for your first performance. Chris had come over to give everyone a pep talk, while Leon tapped out a beat on the body of his pacific blue Fender guitar impatiently. Claire was nodding away to her brother’s words as she frowned at herself in the cosmetic mirror, the bright LED lights illuminating her flawless skin. You sat at the back, quietly keeping to yourself as you always do, ignoring the jitters in your hands. The adrenaline was kicking in now, you were used to it. Soon, you’d be a completely different person. It was as if once you were on stage, a match was struck and you were on fire.

For now, you contented yourself with recalling the events of how you ended up with this motley crue. It had been a warm, humid Thursday afternoon, when you were done with your classes for the day, and you made your way over to one of the rental practice rooms at the back of a second-hand record store just a little off campus. Your friend Jill had told you that another friend of hers was looking for a new vocalist for their band. Seeing how you’d been singing on and off with various student bands that never really had the drive to go anywhere, she hooked you up, stating that said friend, Claire, was the most determined person she’d ever met.

So here you were, knocking on the door of the shabby, makeshift rehearsal room, covered in countless band and anarchic motto stickers.

“Come on in!” A chirpy, high-pitched voice called out.

The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it by just a crack, enough for you to poke your head through.

“Aw, she’s a shy one,” a boy with floppy, blonde hair who was sitting at the corner, hunched over his guitar remarked. His tone had no hint of maliciousness in it, just pure curiosity.

“Shut it, Kennedy.” The lady, wearing a distinct red leather jacket that matched the color of her hair tied back in a springy ponytail, rolled her eyes before greeting you with a warm smile.

“Hey…” She stuck her hand out, as you cautiously entered the room, taking in the new faces around you. “I’m Claire. You must be Jill’s friend.”

You returned back a feeble smile as you shook her hand. “Yeah, uh, and the Stars Rebellion, huh?”

“That’s right,” a beefy guy with cropped, dark brown hair behind the drum kit piped up. “Our previous vocalist left,” he paused, with his brows furrowed as if he had been reminded of something unpleasant. “You know how it’s like these days.”

You nodded understandingly as he continued. “We’ve got a sweet gig in about two weeks, so we need a replacement fast. You heard our stuff?”

“Yeah, ’course.” Jill had sent you all the recordings and info you needed to prepare yourself for today.

“Great, so-”

“Whoa, hold up a second,” Claire interjected. “Older brothers,” she sighed. “You know what they’re like.” She pointed towards the drummer. “Speaking of which, that’s my very own one over there.”

“Chris, say hello,” she ordered.

“Hi,” his monotone greeting accosted you while he waved over with a drumstick in hand. His confident and no-nonsense persona struck you as someone who was the natural leader of the group.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s really a cuddly bear underneath,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”

He grunted in reply, still looking as stoic as ever, his square jawline unflinching, as if his sister’s words had no effect on him.

“Anyway, I guess you can already tell, I’m on bass.” She swayed her hips a little, gesturing towards the instrument that was strapped around her.

The blonde cleared his throat, seemingly irritated at being relegated to the position of the last person to be introduced.

“And that.�� She pointed over to him. “Well, that’s just Leon.”

With a bold smirk, he cradled the guitar to his chest, as his fingers danced along the fretboard, unleashing a cool, intricate riff that spiraled through the air.

“Also a fucking show off,” Claire retorted.

You caught his gaze and the bright blue eyes that lured you in dangerously close, like you were Icarus flying towards the sun. He was one of those boys your father had warned you about. Handsome, charming, but the devil in disguise. You could still hear his stern words about perdition and hellfire booming in your ear. You closed your eyes before they hurt too much.

“So, erm, why don’t we start with the first track on our demo?” Claire’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.

Blinking your eyes open, you bowed your head slightly in response, before getting into position behind the mic. You can do this. A silent prayer reverberated through your head, as the opening chords played.

And just like it happened every time, that magical switch flipped, and you became someone else entirely different from yourself, yet it belonged to every part of you. As you bellowed, growled and sighed breathily into the mic like a rockstar on acid, you noticed a change in the air around you and how your future bandmates looked at you in awe. It felt like an electric current coursing through your veins. It felt like coming home.

You only needed to go through another two more songs, before they were completely floored and decided there and then that they wanted you in. The vibe between the four of you was great, there was no denying that. And you had already started throwing in some moves that were usually saved for performances with Leon, as all of you jammed together.

“That was fucking awesome!” Leon exclaimed, with Claire following suit. Even Chris was smiling widely.

“Yeah, that felt really good,” you panted, a little out of breath from the exertion.

All at once, Chris patted you on the back, cementing your entry. “Welcome to the family.” You felt your heart tug at the last word. Could you really belong here now?

“Nice to finally have another girl in the band!” Claire blurted out, as she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Mm hm, very nice.” Leon gave you a cheeky wink, before Claire smacked the back of his head.

“Behave.”

“Oh, I will,” he snickered.

You shuddered, wondering how a silly remark like that could get you so riled up, as you chose to suppress whatever thoughts that came bubbling towards the surface. He was just one of those cocky bastards who would let fame get to their head, you discerned. Probably had a bunch of groupies lined up too. So you paid no more attention to him than needed.

A large, rough hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

You shook yourself out of the daydream, coming back to reality backstage, as you eyed the imposing, broad figure in front of you. “Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As you strode out onto the stage, the crowd clapped and whistled, though the reception seemed rather lukewarm. Perhaps most of them were waiting for the later bands, who also happened to be the more established ones, to play. It didn’t matter though. Your job was to get them hyped up, and you knew how to do it well.

Leon nodded at you, indicating that he’d start running through the beginning licks of the song on the setlist you’d all prepped. At the same time, he gave you an encouraging smile, which eased the tension a little. Even though you’d only got to know him a few weeks ago, you soon realized that your first impression of him wasn’t exactly the most accurate, and that despite being an insufferable prick, he had another side to him that was caring and gentle. He’d patiently helped you run through the songs with him, and even took a couple of your suggestions in improving them. He hung out with you outside of band practice, wanting to get to know you as a person, and trying to make you feel comfortable within the group. Most musicians had a stick up their ass and would’ve never given you the time of day. But he did. You’d even go as far as to call him a lovable asshole.

As the whirring of Leon’s guitar filled the space, you clenched your fist, pumping it above your head as you let out a low snarl into the mic, before belting out the lyrics, your voice raw and powerful as it soared over the riffs and the steady rhythm of the drum and bass. At a particularly heavy drop, you leaped into the air, before landing on your feet and tearing through the vocals as you rocked out with Leon at the front, playing off the energy you exchanged with each other.

It was infectious, like a feverish dream, and the crowd’s excitement grew. Among the sea of bodies pressed together, you could just about make out the look of enthusiasm on their faces, their eyes sparking with the thrill of the moment, as they jumped, moshed and cheered to the music. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, as one song flew into the other. In between, you made sure to introduce the band, thank the organizers and the audience themselves, coaxing more screams and shouts in unison as you teased them about hearing another song, what it was about, praising them on how great of a crowd they were, and with a sly wink, asking them if they could give you more. And they were more than happy to oblige.

In the final track, a devilish grin broke out across your face as you turned towards Chris and Claire, both of them laughing and shaking their heads as they knew what was coming next, before you faced the audience again. Tapping your foot in time to the beat, you murmured sultrily into the mic, “You wanna see me swallow this mic whole?”

The crowd went mental at the proposal as your velvety laughter rang out across the venue. “Come on, you can do better than that.” You pouted, licking your lips suggestively. “How much do you want it?”

Once the crowd roared, you nodded in approval and pulled the cord of the mic taut between your hands, making a grand show of it, as you tilted your head back, slowly inserting the head of the mic downwards into your mouth. As it went in, you bit at the bottom of the head, gripping it securely between your teeth, as you went hands free and a scream ripped through your throat at the climax of the song.

Sweat and energy radiated from every pore, as your band members kicked into action. Leon jutted his hips out, launching into a fierce, breathtaking guitar solo, his fingers pressing and weaving in and out of the strings like a blinding lightning. Claire remained the grounding force in a whirlwind of melodies, keeping a consistent beat effortlessly, as her head swayed from side to side. Chris added to the wall of sound with each strike and rattle of the snare drum, quickening the pace as he worked in the bass drum pedal and clashes on the cymbals in perfect timing, his eyes laced in concentration on the controlled chaos unfolding before him.

To say you ended in a bright explosion of sound was an understatement. The four of you hugged each other tightly and bowed to a resounding chorus of cheers and hoots, stamping their feet for yet another encore. You saluted and waved at them, your final words spilling out into the mic in gratitude, “Thanks so much, we are the Stars Rebellion! Have a good night!”

As you headed off stage, Leon pounced behind you, pulling you flush against his chest in a sweaty hug as you gasped in surprise. His hair was in a mess, darkened and clinging to his forehead in damp tendrils. “Holy shit, you were a completely different person up there! Y’know, like Ian fucking Curtis or something?”

He blabbered on nearly incoherently, name-dropping various famous lead singers. “Karen O, yeah? And Alice Glass…”

“God, just give her a break already,” Claire giggled as she shoved Leon off of you.

You stifled a laugh, your meek personality returning the more you moved away from the spotlight. “Yeah, I guess? Um, thanks.”

Leon paused, looking at you in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jeez, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Lady in streets, freak in the sheets,” he mumbled almost inaudibly as you choked on your saliva and coughed violently at his quip.

“Leon,” Chris warned, as Leon held his hands up in mock surrender.

Turning towards you, Chris sighed wearily, “Sorry about that. You did good though.”

Before you had a chance to answer, an alluring, provocative voice interrupted. “You all did good out there.”

Spinning around, you came face-to-face with a stylishly dressed lady in a red, skintight catsuit and dark leather heeled boots. A sleek, black bob framed her face, highlighting her sharp features and high cheekbones. You noticed that she focused all her attention on Leon, even though she was addressing the group.

Leon’s eyes widened, her outfit clearly seemed to pique his interest, and you could feel Chris tense up behind you, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At this, Claire whispered into your ear with a hint of venom, “That’s Ada, the bassist of Midnight Sun.”

Midnight Sun. That rang a bell. They were one of the more established bands in the scene, though you’d heard rumors about how haughty they could be and that they would stop at nothing to climb their way up.

“Oh, there you are.” A man with slicked-back blonde hair and dark sunglasses sauntered over coolly. If someone had told you that he was an extra from The Matrix, you would’ve believed them in a heartbeat.

The look of disdain was prominent on his face as he glanced over at you and your bandmates. He clucked his tongue derisively. “Tell me, what is it like being the warm up crew?”

Leon was about to lash out, but Chris’ reflexes were faster, holding his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Leon huffed, as he shrugged Chris’ hand off, conceding to remaining cordial for now.

“Wesker, you’re on next!” A stagehand called out from afar.

The man tipped his head in response, before wrapping an arm around Ada’s shoulders, pulling her away from your group as he smirked. “Watch and learn, amateurs.”

“Bunch of douchebags,” Claire muttered as all of you made your way towards the dressing room to freshen up.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Leon peering over his shoulder another time at the lady in red.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Seriously? That’s what was written?” You groaned, chucking Leon’s phone to the side as both of you lay sprawled out on a picnic mat across a grassy hill which connected to a park. A couple of liquor and beer bottles littered your side. Clearly, this was more of a boozy brunch than an actual brunch at all. You should’ve known better than to trust Leon to prepare something substantial. However, whenever he was around you, it seemed like he would make an effort to control his drinking habits, at least to a point where he was only tipsy but not wasted each time.

Since the last gig, the band had received many other offers to play at various venues and Chris had been eager to accept them all, in the hopes of attracting a talent scout who would spot and sign you to a major label. You’d gone on stage a few more times, with each round bringing you new fans and followers, as well as getting hounded by music journalists. Claire seemed to have a word for everything and this was no exception. She described them as rats, and in particular, a man named Luis Sera proved to be the biggest one of them all.

You remembered his irritating voice which had a slight lilt to it, as he called out for you after one of your shows in the previous month. “Señorita… hey!”

He definitely had a flair for making a spectacle out of everything that he did, and soon you’d discover that he was also a master of exaggeration. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mi amor.” He bowed his head dramatically, as he took your hand, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips.

In the end, your band had given him half an hour of your time, only for him to grossly alter whatever answers all of you had provided during the interview when the article was published. He had pitted the Stars Rebellion against Midnight Sun, when in your opinion, both bands sounded nothing like each other and he was just doing it to stir up sensationalist shit. In addition to that, he spent most of the article writing about your looks and sex appeal, as opposed to the actual music.

To be fair, that was part of your showmanship, but it seemed like yet another case of sexism in the industry, where other male vocalists weren’t subject to the same fate as you and the handful of frontwomen, who still cut their teeth and pushed forward.

“Great,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Now, not only have we become an even bigger rival of Midnight Sun, he’s got people wondering if I can actually sing at all!”

Leon seemed amused by your mini outburst, but was otherwise unruffled by the comments in the article. “That’s what journalists do.” He shrugged. “Create fucking bullshit and drama. What’s new?”

He turned over to face you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly before letting it go. “You’re insanely talented, you know that. Don’t listen to them.”

You smiled at his affirmation. The past months had flown by in a blur, and along with it, your bond with Leon had strengthened. You were the very definition of fast friends, having discovered many similar interests and common topics of conversation between the two of you. Although he still made the occasional off-putting remark, and was a bit of an attention-seeker, especially among the ladies, you enjoyed the time spent with him. It felt like you could be yourself and could talk to each other about anything without judgment.

Judgment. That word aroused conflicting feelings within you. On the one hand, being on stage felt freeing and you could do so many things there that would’ve been considered shameful in any other public situation. It was as though you could ignore the judgment or were immune to it. Yet, when it was time to return to the ‘normal world’, judgment haunted you wherever you went.

“Got a question though.” Leon grinned, and you knew he was coming up with another one of his pesky jokes again. “Can you sing?”

You whacked his chest as he howled with laughter. “Alright, come on, look. We’ll do it together, ok?” He whipped out his phone again, tapping on his music playlist. “I just wanna hear you sing something softer, please?”

Sighing in exasperation, you gave in to his curiosity, clearing your throat as you exposed the falsetto that you’d been hiding all this while in the city you’d run off to for college. Leon joined you on the backing vocals as you flowed through the song together, while you tried to ignore his gaze which lowered at your lips, seemingly entranced by what he was listening to. A blush crept up along your neck as the song ended.

“Didn’t realize you had that side to you,” he muttered in astonishment. “Where did you-”

“Church choir,” you uttered abruptly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him even more. “Didn’t take you as the religious kind.”

“I’m not.” You swallowed thickly, looking away.

“Your parents-”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a little harsher than intended.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off, before sharing about his background instead. “My parents were kind of shitheads too. Well, mostly my old man.” There was another pause, as he shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Liked the bottle a bit too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You placed your hand over his, as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Don’t be. The band’s our family now.” He shifted himself up to his elbows, kicking mud off his boots. “Anyway, we don’t have to talk about your folks if you want.”

You softened up at this, realizing that he still had your best interests at heart, though a part of you felt like divulging what you had kept to yourself for so long. “It’s embarrassing,” you began. “Singing like that, kinda reminds me of the past I wanted to leave behind.”

Twiddling your fingers anxiously, you continued. “My parents were very into that whole religious thing. You could say it was almost cult-like,” you laughed nervously. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be, so I got out of it.”

Frowning, you pursed your lips as a vague memory of leaving your hometown amid a heated argument and tears came to mind. “Haven’t spoken to them in years. Probably disowned by them by now.”

“Their loss,” he replied sharply, staring you dead in the eye.

It wasn’t something you had expected to slip out of Leon’s mouth, but he had articulated it so transparently. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“You could’ve been a great televangelist,” he joked, and you chuckled along with him, finding humor in the otherwise unpleasant subject.

“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” You took a swig of the vodka bottle he offered you, wincing as the smooth liquid burned its way down your throat. “You know, when I’m up there performing, it feels like I can be whoever I want to be.”

“You can be whoever you want with me,” he spoke softly. You tried to search for any disingenuity in his eyes, but found none. “I like you all the same.”

“I like you too,” you professed, only to contort your face in horror a split second later, as you realized the implications of what you had just said. “Uh, I mean, not like that,” you sputtered helplessly. “You know, like-”

He rolled his eyes and snickered. “C’mere.” Tugging at your hand, he pulled you in close, giving you a solid hug.

Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling deeply and relaxing in his embrace. Both of you carried a mild scent of alcohol, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to find a like-minded soul who saw you for who you were, as you did with him.

A random thought popped up in your head that you wanted to run by him that instant. It gnawed at your chest, waiting to escape. “Leon?”

“Mm?” You could feel him nuzzling your neck and wondered if he had gone past being tipsy.

“What do you think about writing a softer song? Like something more emotive,” you explained.

He still didn’t let you go. “I think that sounds great,” he murmured into your ear. “We’ll write it together.”

“Just you and me, us against the world,” he added wistfully.

You wondered what had gotten into him, but the idea of working on this creative project together felt right to you. Like a link in the thread of fate that was meant to happen.

“Us against the world,” you repeated, sealing your fate, as you felt his smile against your skin.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On a hot, sunny afternoon, you were grabbing milkshakes with Claire, before heading over to the skatepark, where another friend of hers, Steve, was trying out a couple of new tricks. He had a slender build and spiky red hair, with a punk aesthetic. In other words, the perfect skater boy. You were pretty sure he had a crush on Claire, but she seemed to be either oblivious or ignored it outright. Whenever he landed a cool trick, he’d look over at Claire for approval, only for her to give him a friendly thumbs up.

While you sat by the benches, Claire turned towards you, wiggling her eyebrows as she commented, “You and Leon have been hanging out a lot together lately.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to appear nonchalant about it, as you sipped on your milkshake guardedly.

Truth be told, the increasing amount of time spent with Leon was causing certain inconvenient feelings to grow within you. You lied to yourself, claiming you saw him as nothing more than a friend. Falling for a lovable asshole was out of the question, especially one who might break your heart. Yet, the day where both of you drank in the park, accepting each other in ways you never thought possible, constantly replayed in your mind. Then there was the song you were working on together, the late-night calls, and the pick-me-ups for days when either of you needed support. He would drop everything to help you, and you were there when he sought comfort.

Each time you saw him flirting with one of the female fans or exchanging coy looks with Ada, you died a little inside. He was just a horny 23-year-old guy chasing after anyone with legs - at least, that's what you tried to convince yourself. So, you stayed silent about the whole affair, holding back how you really felt about him, in order to preserve your friendship.

“Anything going on between you two?” Claire asked casually.

What else could you expect from a final-year Communications major? Of course, she would have picked up on how weird you’ve been acting lately.

Still, you continued fighting a losing battle. “We’re just friends,” you asserted, poking absentmindedly at the leftover froth and cream in your drink with the straw.

She wasn’t having it though. “The question is, do you want it to stay that way?” Checkmate. You could almost see her gloating at you as you froze.

You shook your head, sighing defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter, he’s into other girls anyway.”

“Have you told him?” Crap, she got you there again.

You just gave her a noncommittal shrug.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you.” She set her drink down with an air of determination, as if she meant business. “In all my sad years of knowing that loser, he’s never behaved this way with a girl like you. Maybe he just needs a little push to see that.” Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side. “You should tell him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You sucked up the rest of your drink until there was nothing more than the bubbly, gurgling sound of air and drops of fluid. With a mischievous twist of your mouth, you added, “By the way, you should probably tell Steve you’re not interested.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When you had finally plucked up the courage to try and tell Leon about your true feelings, things didn’t go exactly as planned. For starters, he had been rather distracted about the upcoming music festival that your band would be participating in and specifically, a promo event that was tied to it. It was all he wanted to talk about, so you couldn’t get a word in.

“It’ll be the perfect opportunity to get noticed,” he pleaded. “You have to go!”

“I’m not- I don’t do very well in these types of social situations,” you argued. “You know that.”

“Excuses,” he huffed dismissively. “It’s gonna be fun, come on.”

“Chris and Claire will be there with you,” you countered again.

Placing his hands on your shoulders, he declared, “No, I want you.”

Although you knew he didn’t mean it any other way, your cheeks flushed as you turned your head away, heart throbbing at the innocuous statement he had just uttered.

“I’ll be there beside you, the whole time,” he promised. “Please, just come along?”

Biting your lip, you weighed your options, even though your emotions had already gotten the better of you, and you had made your decision regardless of what he might say. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.”

Unfortunately, you wish you had never agreed to him in the first place, because 24 hours later, you were singing an entirely different tune.

Leon had picked you up and headed over to the event with you as arranged. It was held at a swanky members-only club with a lot of pomp, ass-kissing and too much champagne. You felt completely out of place there, but tagged along like a lost puppy behind Leon, who was reveling in the publicity and getting to know who’s who. A number of the other festival bands were there, but you weren’t particularly close to them beyond a courteous ‘Hello’. You fiddled with the cocktail that Leon had got you, praying that the Redfield siblings would show up sometime soon.

At some point, Leon caught your attention, every so often looking over his shoulder for something, or someone. “I, uh, I need to head to the restroom.”

You nodded in puzzlement, wondering why he seemed so shifty all of a sudden.

“Cool, um, I’ll make it quick.” He gave you a sheepish smile and a wink before heading off hurriedly.

He looked even apologetic? You shrugged off that thought, nursing the lone drink in your hands as you thumbed the fabric of your silvery playsuit. After a while, you checked the time on your phone. A good ten minutes had passed, but he hadn’t returned. Weird, did something happen to him?

As you continued waiting, it started to dawn on you how oppressive and suffocating the atmosphere was. It reminded you of the times when you were surrounded by the rest of the community you’d grown up with in church, scrutinizing your every move. Cold sweat formed on your palms as your breathing grew rapid and shallow. A sense of dread developed within you as your vision narrowed.

Oh god, oh god, not here, no… You latched onto the wall for support, trying to apply the tactics you usually used to calm yourself down.

“Hey there!” Claire’s upbeat voice pierced through the downward spiral you had nearly been consumed by. “Where’s Leon?”

“Um, he went to the rest-”

“What the fuck.” Claire’s jaw dropped wide open and when you followed her line of sight, you understood why.

From afar, you spotted Leon and Ada in tow, sneakily heading out of the restrooms. Bold red lipstick was smudged across Leon’s face as he wiped away at it furiously, and his pants remained unzipped, like an afterthought. Ada combed through her ruffled hair with her fingers, adjusting the bottom of her figure-hugging dress. There were no guesses as to what had occurred there. Your mouth ran dry.

“That fucking-” Claire growled. “Ugh, I’m gonna wring his neck!”

“Claire, it’s okay.” You tried to placate her, but your voice was quivering.

She turned towards you, eyeing you sympathetically as she rubbed your back. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Well, Chris is getting some drinks. Let’s go join him?”

You accepted, making your way towards the refreshments table, still mulling over what you had just seen. As you picked up a glass of sparkling wine, Claire relayed the entire scenario over to Chris, who just shook his head disapprovingly.

A few moments later, Leon had stumbled upon your group. “Where’ve you been? I was looking all over for you!” He barked, visibly frustrated at your disappearance.

Claire scoffed, and without another word, bumped against his shoulder as she brushed past him. Chris followed suit, without the bumping, though he made a face at Leon as he chugged down his beer. They expected you to come along, but you hung back, giving Leon one more chance to redeem himself.

“What’s up with those two?” he muttered in annoyance.

You held his gaze impassively. “What took you so long?”

“Is this a trick question or what?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he tried to evade your quizzing.

But you didn’t let up, not budging from your place until you had an answer.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “There was a queue, okay?”

A rush of disappointment and heartache surged through you. The least he could’ve done was to be honest with you, but he hadn’t even managed that. He was lying directly to your face, which currently felt as if it had been given a tight slap in humiliation. With whatever dignity you had left, you excused yourself from the table, heading over to the Redfield siblings, as Leon looked on in incredulity and disbelief.

You spent the rest of the evening with Chris and Claire, who were mostly interested in the free food and drink, and knew a couple of the chiller, more down-to-earth musicians on a personal level. In an unexpected turnaround of events, you were actually having fun chatting with people who appeared to be on the same wavelength as you and making wisecracks about corporate functions like these.

In fact, it served as a fairly effective distraction from the boy you were pretending didn’t exist. He lurked around like a shadow, leaning against the walls in the corridors and the sides of the rooms. You saw him everywhere, hovering just within reach. Scowling moodily at you and your newfound friends, he tossed back a never ending supply of alcoholic drinks. You suspected he was on the verge of getting sloshed by now, and although a part of you was concerned about his well-being, you didn’t want to play the role of a babysitter, at least not for tonight.

Towards the end of the night, Chris and Claire had decided to take their leave and you would too, after getting some fresh air by the pool. However, this proved to be a mistake, as the minute you were left alone, you heard heavy footsteps shuffling up next to you. You felt a pit in your stomach, knowing well who it was before even facing the culprit.

“What did I do wrong?” Leon was slurring his words, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. The stench of alcohol on him was overwhelming.

Wrinkling your nose, you backed away, stating plainly, “You’re drunk, just take a cab home.”

“Don’t-” He grabbed your arm, attempting to steady himself. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Leon,” you warned.

“What happened to us against the world, huh?” he retorted.

“Did you think about that when you ditched me to fuck around?” The accusation tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to rein it in.

His grip on you loosened, as guilt flashed across his eyes. “That- I, it wasn’t-”

“You’ve always been a bit of an asshole,” you interjected. “But a loveable one, who was also sweet and kind.” Tears started to collect at the corners of your eyes. “Now, you’re just completely horrible,” you spat, with a look of disgust plastered across your face.

Leon’s face contorted in anguish as he tightened his hold on your arm again. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t like you like this,” you admitted, trying to break free from his grasp, as tears started to roll down your cheeks.

He tried to reach out with his other hand and caress your face, but you pushed it away. “Let go,” you demanded.

However, it seemed as if he couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to be as far away from him as possible. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Can’t we just sort this-”

Then, something in you snapped. All the times when you had finally had enough and set your boundaries in the past, burning bridges along the way, came to a head. “No!” you yelled, shoving him off you, as he fell backwards and landed into the pool with a loud splash.

Some of the spectators laughed and jeered, as he floundered around mostly in shock, while you stormed off the site.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next band practice session was awkward to say the least. You were running a few minutes late and when you’d reached, you could hear the shouting from outside the door to the studio.

“... sleeping with the enemy!”

“How is Ada an enemy?”

“You’re always messing things up for us!”

“Okay, break it up you two.”

Expelling a hefty sigh, you swung the door open, and the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. You could feel their gaze on you as you placed your bag in the corner before getting to your usual position behind the mic, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Leon. The festival was coming up in the next month, and on top of that, you still had a smaller gig to play in between then. The last thing you wanted was for personal issues to get in the way of professionalism, so you buried your emotions deep within the abyss.

“Hey, um, you, uh-” Leon croaked out, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him, turning instead towards Claire.

“Sorry I’m late, shall we get started?”

Despite regarding you with a look of concern, she obliged and Chris counted off before all of you jammed to the opening song.

It continued on like this, where you gave Leon the cold shoulder. You had stopped hanging out with him and only communicated when necessary. He didn’t realize how much he would miss your company until it was gone. Things felt duller and emptier without you. Whenever he wanted to share his joys, sorrows and just the mundane things that were happening in his life, he’d try to call you, only for it to go unanswered. He left you countless voice messages, each more desperate than the last one, ranging from a mixture of hurt, blame and grief. It had only been a little over two weeks, but he was starved and alone, without the person he could truly count on. The song you had been working on together remained unfinished.

During the smaller gig you were playing at, you rocked out with Chris and Claire near the back, instead of vibing with Leon at the front. Maybe you were being petty with the way you were treating Leon, but he hadn’t given you a proper apology since the incident. The chemistry and connection between the two of you on stage was lost. Nonetheless, you gave the performance your all, and the fans went wild, so much so that when you crowd surfed, you ended up with shredded leggings and a bloody mouth. A random fan tried to grope you, but security intervened and you were dragged back up on stage by Leon, whose eyes were clouded with worry and apprehension. However, the adrenaline numbed the pain and you finished the gig on a high note, leaving the crowd buzzing with exhilaration and the sound of thunderous applause. It was a confidence booster and a great way to warm up for the festival gig.

Backstage, Claire helped you with cleaning the cut on your lip, as you reassured her that you were fine and such injuries were inevitable when you threw yourself headfirst into the crowd. She made you promise not to pull that stunt again, at least for the foreseeable future, before leaving you to finish up.

Just as you were heading out to regroup, an older, bearded man with neatly styled, graying hair and donning a snazzy waistcoat approached you.

“Brian Irons.”

He held out a sleek, matte finish card with a crisp white background, his name in bold, black font in the center. Below, in smaller, elegant sans-serif type, were the record label he managed and his contact details. A thin, silver border surrounded the edges of the card adding a touch of sophistication. You took it from him, rapt by the design.

“Shall we speak somewhere in private?” he offered, beckoning towards one of the empty dressing rooms towards the end of the hallway.

In your elation and unwillingness to turn down such a timely opportunity, you jumped the gun, accepting his request immediately without waiting for your bandmates. Instead, you messaged them the details and informed them you would join them soon after.

“Amazing show,” he complimented. “You really are quite stunning.”

“Thanks, um, Mr. Irons.” You shifted your weight between both feet nervously, unsure of how to respond. Something in the way he looked at you made you seem like a prey caught in a bear’s trap and his words felt loaded.

“For you, it’s Brian, honey.” His lecherous tone sent shivers down your spine.

“Brian,” you echoed, slowly backing away to put some distance between you and the man.

“So, you kids wanna get signed, huh? Stars Rebellion, wasn’t it?” He advanced towards you with deliberate, measured steps, as if he were playing with his food at the dinner table.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, regretting the decision you had made earlier and the direction this conversation seemed to be steering in.

“Well, I can certainly help with that…”

Your back was flat against the wall now, as he sidled up to you, eliminating any space between you as he caged you in with his body. His breath felt hot and heavy against your cheek, and reeked of coffee and cigarettes. As his hand rode up your thigh, you closed your eyes, holding your breath as a nauseating wave crashed over you and you tried not to puke.

“The fuck’s going on here?” A sharp, biting voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Brian pulled away and you saw Leon by the doorway of the dressing room seething with fury and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, easy there, kid. Just getting acquainted, that’s all.” Brian tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Leon wasn’t having any of it.

“Get away from her,” he ordered, his steely demeanor unrelenting. “Now.”

Brian backed off, but came up to Leon threateningly. “Talking back to me like that?” he sneered. “I’ll make sure you’re ruined, punk.”

Leon took a step closer, issuing an unspoken challenge. “Yeah? Go ahead, sue me.”

At this, Brian cocked his fist back before taking a swing at Leon. Leon ducked to avoid the blow, shoving him aside as he unleashed a quick jab which connected with Brian’s nose. Brian fell to the ground, whimpering in pain while covering his face with both hands. Blood trickled down, staining his shirt as he cowered before Leon.

“Touch her again and I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Leon hollered. “You hear me?”

Brian nodded furiously as Leon walked briskly across the room, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before leading you out with him. Once you were at a safe distance, he cupped your face in his palms, examining you for any further signs of injuries.

“You okay? Did he hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, instead you clung to him in a tight embrace as your body trembled uncontrollably. He held you against his chest, resting his chin on your head as he stroked your hair soothingly. Both of you stayed there for a while, locked in each other's arms, until he suggested, “Let’s get you home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When Leon had informed Chris and Claire about the events that had transpired, they vowed to keep a closer watch on you and each other. There was now an agreement that if the whole band could not be present at a meeting, then at least two people at the minimum should be there.

Your band had upped the intensity of the practice sessions, as the date of the festival loomed nearer. However, when Jill spontaneously announced that she was organizing a house party at her place, all of you jumped at the invitation, seeing it as a way to let off some steam.

At the moment, you and Leon were in this weird, intermediary state of being not quite friends, yet not quite on opposing ends either. It seemed as if it was eating away at him inside, since the minute he saw you at Jill’s place, he weaved through the throng of familiar faces and approached you, asking if you were ready to talk about the elephant in the room. It wasn’t possible to keep ignoring him forever and you were tired of all the arguments and drama that had occurred lately. So, you decided to let him into your life again, or maybe just a foot in the door for now.

In one of the quieter rooms of the house, you sat beside Leon as he initiated an apology for the first time for his prior actions. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, I really am.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I was a complete dick-”

“Yeah, you were,” you replied testily. “I panicked, when you, um, took your time.”

“What? Shit.” He looked down at his hands in shame, balling them into fists. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want that to happen to you.”

Clenching his jaw, you saw him drown in a sense of self-loathing. “God, I keep fucking things up. Please-” He took your hands in his, squeezing them as if he were proposing. “I’ll make it up to you, just give me another chance to prove it.”

“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was as if a dam had broken, and he couldn't stop himself from pouring out all his admissions. “You weren’t talking to me, you weren’t returning my calls…”

“Whenever something stupid came up, all I could think about was how much I wanted to tell you about it.” His eyes glazed over, as if he were recalling a distant memory. “Guess I kinda took you for granted.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you made yet another decision against your better judgment. Although you had no guarantee that he would not repeat the same mistake, you placed your trust in him again, hoping that this time he would treat you as you deserved.

“Okay.” You nodded, offering a weak smile. “We’ll try again.”

You yelped as he suddenly gathered you into a snug embrace, grinning widely from ear to ear. “I got you back,” he murmured into your ear.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you teased half-jokingly.

“Guys, get your free shit! Oh-”

You and Leon quickly disentangled yourselves from each other as you saw Jill staring with her mouth hanging open. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No!” Both of you exclaimed in unison.

Jill rolled her eyes, her face etched with doubt, though she didn’t probe further. “Anyway, downstairs! First come, first served.” She jerked her thumb in the direction behind her, before trudging off to the next room.

“You wanna?” Leon gave you a knowing smile.

“Hell, sure, why not?” You shrugged, once again erupting in laughter with the boy you wanted to cuddle with and strangle at the same time.

So, that was how both of you ended up lying next to each other, strung out on a mattress facing the window. You knew the drill. Jill’s housemates were creative types whose generosity knew no bounds. House parties with them involved usually meant a certain supply of free drugs, which people could choose to engage in recreationally. You figured you were being very rock’n’roll by doing it, but sometimes you enjoyed how open they made you feel, like you could loosen up and forget about the things bothering you.

As usual, you and Leon had taken the same pills as before, both of you agreeing to take care of each other throughout the duration of the high. He held your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, as you giggled over a topic you had been discussing.

“Ready to watch the curtain breathing contest?” he chuckled.

“There.” You pointed in front of you, indicating that the shades were now moving on their own, like ripples in the tide.

“Atta girl.”

It felt nice like this, laying beside him. You could talk to him about anything in the world and he’d listen intently to you. That’s when you thought it was a good idea to make your confession.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” you gulped, your heart constricting though the urge to reveal your secret was stronger. “As in, more than a friend.”

He angled his head towards you, gazing at your expression with an affectionate smile. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Leon Scott Kennedy, asking me why-?” you snorted, clamping your free hand over your mouth as you struggled to hold in your cackles. As if he wasn’t aware he had a reputation for sleeping around with no strings attached. “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost.”

He tutted and sighed. “You wouldn’t have been. It’s different… with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re one of the few people who’d tell me exactly as it is, you care to listen,” he explained. “It just feels right, being with you, and… I trust you.”

You were reluctant to take what he had said at face value, after all both of you were tripping. As if sensing your hesitance, he professed, “I like you too, a lot.”

Still, a part of you denied it. “You’re just saying that.”

He groaned in vexation. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

Narrowing his eyes at you, he huffed in defeat, “Look, ask me again tomorrow when we’re sober, okay? Pretty sure I’ll say the exact same thing.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “You better not try anything right now though, ’cause I bite.” Baring your teeth, you snarled at him playfully.

“Uh huh.” He burst out laughing. “You’re kinda high off your face, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.” You winked.

“Alright, let’s try to get some sleep,” he grunted, shifting to his side as he extended his arms towards you like an invitation. “No funny business,” he promised.

You relented, nestling yourself into his arms with your back against his chest. He dipped his nose into your hair, breathing in the peace of the moment. Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, your bodies spooned together in perfect symmetry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The first rays of the morning light filtered in through the curtains, as you awoke to the collective chirps of the dawn chorus. You squinted, pressing a palm over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, as you stretched yourself out against Leon’s sleeping body and yawned groggily. He stirred a bit from your movement, but easily fell back into slumber, snoring deeply. You remembered everything you had disclosed to him the night before and it scared you. What if he didn’t feel the same way when he woke up? What if it had all been a mistake? How would you be able to look him in the eye now? You felt anxiety rising in your chest.

Stealthily, you lifted his arm off you, creeping out of the bed and making your escape before you had to face the consequences of your actions. Grabbing your stuff, you snuck out of the room, tiptoeing so no one noticed you exiting the front door of the house.

It was about an hour later when Leon woke up, confused to find you missing from the mattress with him. Though in your rush, you had accidentally left behind your notebook, which you carried around with you everywhere to jot down inspiration for song lyrics. Picking up the chestnut brown, leatherbound journal, curiosity got the better of him as he flipped it open to the page you had bookmarked.

As he skimmed across the words you had scribbled down in your off-beat, cursive handwriting, he gradually realized that they were the draft lyrics to the song you had been previously working on together with him, before the temporary break in your friendship. He re-read the text again to catch the meaning between the lines. It was then that it struck him, you had essentially composed a love letter from within, expressing the depth of your feelings and yearning for him. It made his heart ache that you had been keeping this from him the whole time and he had been blind to it all.

Tapping your name on his mobile screen, he called you right away, but it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. What were you afraid of? He thought he had been clear in how he felt about you last night, but it seemed like you had gone into hiding again.

Showing up at your place directly after this may cause you to retreat even further, but he was determined to win you over somehow. A plan began to hatch in his mind, as he drove home with your book in the passenger seat. Despite his exhaustion from the party, he set out to work on the music for the lyrics you had written, spending the rest of the day and even pulling an all-nighter to finish it.

After about a dozen energy drinks and cups of coffee, he marched up unannounced to the door of your dormitory, where you shared a room with another final-year student from your class, rapping on it several times for good measure. Your roommate opened the door, but her expression gave everything away before she had the chance to concoct any sort of tall tale. She could never really keep a poker face.

Placing his arm against the door to prevent it from closing on him, he called out your name. You appeared in his view then timidly, mumbling to your roommate that you would handle it. She packed up a few things and left, giving you and Leon some privacy.

“Your book.” He passed it over to you, before setting his guitar case down by your bed. “Open it.”

You glanced briefly at him in mild bewilderment, but did as he asked. It flopped open to a page with a deep crease in the center, naturally showing how frequently that section had been revisited. You gasped when you saw a bunch of chord notes written below the lyrics you had penned down from earlier. Your complexion turned a light shade of scarlet upon realizing that Leon had discovered your innermost thoughts, but there was no awkwardness in his behavior towards you, he was calm and collected.

Unzipping the case, he took out his acoustic guitar and perched himself on the edge of your bed. Resting the instrument on his thigh, he grasped its neck, tilting it slightly as he strummed a couple of opening chords.

“I pieced together the melody for this. Maybe you can join in when you’re comfortable,” he suggested.

It seemed he had memorized the entire song by heart, as he didn’t need your notebook for guidance. His mellow, honeyed voice cascaded through the room as he serenaded you with the song both of you had crafted, albeit separately. Now, you were coming together to bring it to life.

Seating yourself next to him, you harmonized with his vocals, pouring the entirety of your emotions and every moment of longing you had built up within you into the music, until the final note trailed off. Throughout it all, Leon had observed you closely, captivated by the raw, unfiltered quality of your voice and the vulnerability you displayed in your delivery of the lyrics.

His gaze lowered from your eyes to your mouth, as he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, kissing you tenderly. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he caressed it, coaxing soft sighs and moans which he returned as you reciprocated the kiss. Panting as he came up for air, he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling every dip and groove, as if mesmerized by its outline and shape. He didn’t need to utter a single word for you to understand that his feelings for you mirrored those you had confessed in the song.

Closing the distance, he pressed into your lips again, this time more fervently, as the kisses grew in intensity. His nose nudged against yours and you felt his warm breath tickling your skin, as he grasped the back of your neck, taking you deeper, breathing every essence of you in. Clutching his shoulders, you parted your lips slightly as he licked along the entrance, allowing his tongue to meet yours, twirling around it as saliva coated your lips, forming a glistening string between the two of you when you pulled away.

Grazing his knuckles delicately across your cheek, he asked, “Do you believe me now?”

You smiled, claiming his lips with your own in response.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you performed the song live was at the festival, where thousands had gathered to watch the impressive lineup of bands. Chris and Claire had fallen in love with it when you and Leon had showed it to them, and were keen to expand the band’s range into something that delved into the territory of rock ballads.

All four of you wondered how it would be received by the audience, as it was rather different from the punk rock style your band was known for. Even so, you were psyched to finally showcase it to the public.

It was the song you ended with on your setlist, and the one which created such a poignant, special atmosphere, that it became a memory you would treasure forever. The hall fell into hushed anticipation as Leon plucked his guitar strings under the soft glow of the stage lights. Each note resonated deeply, minimalistic and stripped back, which added to the earnesty of the music.

Your voice opened the duet, intimate and haunting, as the melody unfolded like a story being told, rich with longing and a melancholic beauty that ached. The audience stood there entranced, as a soulful rhythm built up with the entry of the bass guitar and drums, adding another layer to the sound.

Leon moved towards you, sharing your mic as he sang his part, cementing a bond between you. Locking eyes with you, he pressed his forehead against yours, mingling sweat and tears as you both continued singing into the same mic, your heartfelt lyrics heavy with emotion. Some of the older people in the crowd sparked their lighters, while the younger ones whipped out their mobile phones, swaying them in time to the music, until everything was awash in a sea of flickering lights.

Your lips and Leon’s were barely touching as the last notes lingered in the air. His faint breath fanned across your mouth, as he swept his fingertips along your jawline, resting them under your chin. The space was thick with palpable tension, and your stomach fluttered just as it had the first time he had kissed you. Like a magnetic pull which he could not resist, he placed his lips over yours, kissing you again and again. It was as if the world had paused, just for the two of you.

Singing this way no longer reminded you of punishment and shame, but rather of the connection you and Leon had. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he led you off-stage, past the phenomenal reaction of the crowd and the fist bumps shared between Chris and Claire.

Ada came around not only to congratulate him, but also to test the waters and seize the opportunity to flirt. Despite that, he held onto you tightly, maintaining a suitable distance from the woman he had previously been infatuated with, yet feeling nothing deeper compared to what he felt for you. It took him more than half a year, an explosive fallout and a few weeks of your absence to realize that. She smirked and shook her head, walking away as Wesker continued to ignore you.

Some things never change, yet some things had.

“How about some time alone?” he proposed. “Just us.”

Us. It was always meant to be about us.

You nuzzled your nose gently with his. “Yeah, just us.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #band au #resident evil #fic: us #porcelainscribbles

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Younger Kind Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You should be finishing your school work so you can ace your finals and graduate, but Bradley coaxes you to take a study break at the Hard Deck. While there, Bradley realizes just what life is going to look like with you by his side, and he takes a minute to remind both of you who you belong with. And then he helps you study the way only he can.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

On Friday morning, when Bradley got to work, he walked right over to Nat where she was sipping a coffee in the hangar. Her eyes were wide, clearly anxious to hear some more details about Meredith, but Bradley just walked right into her arms and hugged her.

She kissed his cheek and whispered, "What happened? Aside from the glorious fact that Merebitch has to fuck off now!"

"I'm being deployed."

"No!" she gasped, hugging him tighter as she set down her coffee. "Will you need help with Noah?"

"Nope," he said with a smile as he pulled away from her a few inches. "For once, I got that part covered."

She listened as he told her all about Wednesday in the courtroom and how you agreed to stay at his house the whole time he was deployed. He was in the process of adding you as a temporary guardian for Noah. He was also going to add you to his credit cards as an authorized user, but you were definitely going to protest. If he had any way of getting your social security number, he would have already done it behind your back.

"Oh, I see," Nat replied with a smirk. "Your babysitter is going to be staying with Noah? For six weeks?"

"Girlfriend, actually," Bradley replied smoothly.

Nat looked pleased. "I still maintain that you have me to thank for that. If I hadn't downloaded that dating app on your phone, none of this would have ever happened. Now tell me I'm the best."

Bradley rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. "You're the best, Nat."

"Yes," she agreed. "And I'll help your girlfriend with Noah while you're away. Make sure you tell her to come to me if she needs anything. Anything at all."

"Thanks, Nat," he mumbled as he reached for his helmet. But Bradley knew you'd be just fine. Nat would be a safety net in case you needed something, and that helped put his mind even further at ease.

After a morning of training exercises, Bradley headed inside to eat lunch and check his text messages.

My Princess: Daddy, I'll be on campus until at least 6. Kind of panicking over how much work I still have to complete before graduation.

He knew this was partly his fault. He was the one who hadn't let you return to your little rental so you'd have some peace and quiet away from him and Noah. But you and he both seemed incapable of being apart now. The way he knew how your body felt tucked against his chest in the middle of the night had him desperate to keep you in his bed. And the way Noah was so attached to you, Bradley was convinced he'd start calling you mommy soon.

As he carried his lunch to one of the cafeteria tables, he texted you back to remind you that he'd help you finish up with your school work this weekend. But he also knew you needed to take a break tonight, so he texted someone else as well.

------------------------------

You were exhausted by the time you got back to Bradley's house on Friday evening. The Bronco was already parked in the driveway, and you noticed that the boys must have played with some sidewalk chalk. As you made your way up to the door, there were pictures of dinosaurs, and Bradley had written We love Princess next to the front porch.

Quickly, you unlocked the front door and called out, "It's me!" Noah came running toward you from the kitchen, and you caught him in your arms.

"Daddy's making dinner," he informed you, and you rushed for the kitchen to investigate.

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said, smiling at you over his shoulder.

You set Noah down on one of the chairs where the table was covered with his coloring books. "You're cooking," you said in shock. "Do you want me to take over?"

"No, I got it," he replied, and you peeked in the pan to see he was making chicken stir fry. "The sexiest woman I ever met taught me how to cook this."

"Oh really? Where is she? I'd love to meet her," you said sarcastically. You were rewarded with Bradley's big hand smacking your rear end before he pulled you closer to him.

He kissed you while the food sizzled on the stovetop, and he murmured, "You had a long day. Let's go out after we eat."

You let his lips linger on yours, enjoying the rough feel of his mustache before he pulled away to focus on what he was cooking. "You want to take Noah out to see a movie or something?" you asked, reaching to pull out some plates. A movie would be really fun, but you also hated the idea of Bradley paying for your ticket along with everything else. He was no longer paying you to babysit Noah. And now that school was ending and you weren't being paid by the college for your work study, you had no income. "Or we could just do something fun here instead?"

"We're going out to the bar," he informed you easily as he turned the stove burner off.

You laughed and put your hands on your hips. "And what about Noah?"

"Got it covered, Princess."

"We actually do need to find him a new babysitter," you reminded Bradley as you glanced at where Noah was quietly folding up construction paper.

"I already did," Bradley promised, kissing your cheek and carrying plates of food to the table. "Amelia Benjamin will be here in about thirty minutes. I wouldn't trust her with Noah for six weeks or anything like that, but I'm sure we can get away for a few hours. Just you and I." He was looking at you intently, waiting for a response. You were honestly surprised he'd managed to set this all up today. "Baby, you need a little break, and Amelia is out of school for the summer," he added softly before he started to blow on Noah's dinner to cool it down.

"I really need to finish my school work," you reminded him as you sat down and tasted his chicken stir fry. It was pretty good, and he smiled as you took another big forkful.

"We have tomorrow and Sunday to work on that. I'll help you."

You were quiet for a moment as you ate. And then all you said in response was, "This is delicious. I can hardly believe you made it."

Bradley set his fork down and took your hand in his. "Come to the bar tonight. Now that I took you out to lunch yesterday, all I can think about is showing you off all the time, okay? Nat will be there, and I kind of already told her we'd be there, too."

"Fine," you said, agreeing with his plans. "But the rest of the weekend, I'll be working."

Bradley's smile held steady through dinner, and when Amelia arrived to watch Noah, he was still excited to be taking you out. You were promised that the evening was casual, so you changed into some jeans that were a little baggy on you and a button down shirt that you tied in the front so it was cropped a little bit. Bradley was in jeans and a colorful floral print shirt, and when he led you out to the Bronco, you offered to drive your car to the bar instead.

He opened the passenger side door of the Bronco and kissed you. "Don't want you wasting your money or gas or anything on me, Princess." And you climbed inside with the realization that you were in a very adult relationship here, and maybe you were in over your head.

--------------------------

Bradley tried to brace himself ahead of time. You were a headturner. Fucking stunning, even in your jeans and beat up Sperrys. But even though you had your fingers laced through his as he led you inside the Hard Deck, you drew the attention of at least half the guys in the place. So he withdrew his hand from yours and slipped his arm around our waist which did essentially nothing to stop the looks he was getting.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, and you looked up at him with such innocent eyes. He pulled you snug against him, and your hand came to rest just above the waistband of his jeans. His cock throbbed for you and that trusting look on your face. You just knew he was going to take care of whatever you needed, and it was going to make him hard if he didn't get control of himself now.

"A beer," you told him, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek next to your ear.

"I see Nat over by the pool table. Why don't you go wait for me over there while I get us some drinks." He squeezed your ass as you turned to walk away from him, earning him a heated gaze over your shoulder. And then he noticed that your eyes caught on something by the bar before you turned back to look at him briefly before you walked to the pool table.

When Bradley turned toward the bar, Helen was there, watching you walk across the crowded room with a scowl before she said, "Rooster," in a bland voice.

He had somehow managed to forget that Helen would be here tonight. Great. "Hey," he said awkwardly before he ordered two beers and watched her expertly pull two pints and slide them across the bar.

"I'll start a tab for you," she said, barely meeting his eyes. "You know, I'm surprised you brought her here. She looks like she's barely legal. And I don't mean that in a nice way. She's probably going to get into some shit." And then Helen turned to help the patron next to him as Bradley's eyes found you.

"Fuck," he grunted. You were leaning back against one of the posts as Harvard and Yale closed in on you. Yale was leaning close enough that you tried to pull away, only to end up pressed against Harvard.

"How old are you, Angel?" Yale asked as Bradley got closer.

You rolled your eyes and said, "I'm twenty four, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped touching me."

Harvard and Yale laughed at the same time, and then Harvard told you, "Maybe you don't know this yet, but girls fight over the chance to come home with us. We're roommates. And we're really good about...sharing."

When you glanced up, your expression was one of extreme annoyance before you met Bradley's eyes and smiled softly. "Then you can share each other," you said before stepping into Bradley's open arms, careful not to bump the beers.

"I see you met my girlfriend," Bradley said, his voice loud and deep as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

He kept his eyes on you while Harvard muttered an excuse and Yale repeatedly said, "Sorry, Rooster," until he was too far away to hear.

"Friends of yours?" you asked, reaching for one of the beers.

"Not really," he replied, watching you take a long sip. "I thought I told you to go wait by Nat."

You licked your glossy lips and said, "And I thought I'd never have to see that flower stealer ever again." You tipped your head toward Helen and held your chin high.

"Flower stealer?" he asked with a smirk.

"I could call her a wannabe homewrecking bitch, but we're in public," you deadpanned, and Bradley actually started laughing.

"Let's go," he said, taking you by the hand as he chuckled, leading you toward the pool table. He watched Nat light up and start asking you a million questions about Meredith and the court appearance even though he had explicitly asked her not to. And of course Jake was here, trying to discreetly check you out.

Bradley wasn't really sure why he had expected this evening to be a nice break for the two of you. He was constantly having to physically touch you in some way, otherwise you got cornered by someone. "Everyone here is so friendly," you remarked after your third beer. Bradley pressed his lips to the sheen of sweat on your pretty neck just as Omaha looked like he might be getting some ideas in his thick skull.

"Yeah," Bradley mumbled. "Or maybe you're just a smokeshow, Baby."

You giggled and asked, "Will you let me go get the next round? I kind of want to see what my buddy Helen has to say to me."

"Go right ahead. Get whatever you want, and put it on my tab."

"You want anything, Daddy?" you asked, rubbing your hand along his abs again, clearly feeling a lot looser than you were two hours ago. He thought about taking you to the bathroom and fucking you as your fingers tucked inside his white undershirt and found his bare skin.

"I want you to go get your drink and get back here quickly," he replied, his voice raspy. "That's what Daddy wants."

He watched you shuffle away after promising him you'd be right back. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Rooster. My man. Where did you pick her up from?" Omaha asked, leaning past Bradley to get a good look at where you were standing at the bar. You had no idea how appealing your ass looked in those jeans, otherwise Bradley was pretty sure you wouldn't be standing like that.

He turned back toward the other aviator and said, "I didn't pick her up from anywhere. She's my girlfriend."

Omaha had the audacity to whistle before he said, "Shit. How long you been hittin' that, old man?"

Bradley felt his hand at his side clench into a fist. He didn't mind the reminder about his age when it came from you, but when it came from someone else, he wanted to start swinging. When you called him old, it was because he couldn't figure out the settings on his phone, something you assured him you found charming. And you weren't a child. You were a capable adult, smarter than pretty much anyone else he knew. But he still just wanted to protect you, even though he knew he didn't have to. The sting of Greyson and Meredith was still too close though, and Bradley had to work at loosening his hand once again.

He was about to tell Omaha to fuck off when he saw you out of the corner of his eye. You were reaching for your drink just as Bradley saw Cyclone of all people reach his hand out to stroke one long finger across the perfect curve of your cheek. You were saying something to Cyclone, and you didn't look too happy. And now both of Bradley's fists were clenched as he watched you duck away from his commanding officer and head his way.

"Oh my goodness," you muttered, sloshing some of your beer onto your hand. But Bradley's gaze was fixed on that of Admiral Beau Simpson as the other man nodded in his direction. "That guy at the bar insisted on buying me a beer as well as a glass of the bourbon he was drinking."

That's when Bradley noticed you were holding two drinks. "Which guy?" he asked, even though he already knew. You turned to look at the bar and nodded toward Cyclone.

"The older one," you muttered before you looked up at Bradley. "He asked me if I was single and insisted on getting me the drinks." You held out the bourbon to him, and he took it.

"What did you tell him?" Bradley asked, fingers tightening around the glass as he felt the weight of your gaze and Cyclone's on him as well.

You licked your lips and said, "I told him I'm here with Bradley Bradshaw, and that he should stop pawing at me."

"Good girl, Princess," Bradley muttered, wrapping one big hand around your waist and pulling you close as he sipped the expensive bourbon courtesy of his boss's boss. Beau Simpson wanted something Bradley had, and the idea of it was enough to make him feel giddy.

"I don't really like this bar very much," you said, an edge of annoyance lacing your tone of voice as you sipped your beer. Bradley let his hand slide down lower and grip your ass, and you did nothing except snuggle in a little closer to him.

But then Bradley tipped the glass of bourbon toward Cyclone and nodded his head in thanks. When Admiral Simpson nodded before letting his gaze dip down along your body, Bradley smirked and downed the rest of the amber liquid. Then his lips were on yours, still wet from the drink. He wanted to mark you, brand you as his own. He wanted to do the filthiest things to you in front of everyone else.

You moaned against his lips, and Bradley took the beer out of your hand so you could wrap your arms around his neck. "What's that for, Daddy?" you asked when his lips found the side of your neck. "Oh, god," you whined as he sucked on you there.

Bradley knew you liked Daddys, and Simpson was older than him. Hell, half the guys at the bar who were looking at you were older than he was. Bradley wanted to make sure everyone knew who you were here with. Maybe he especially wanted to remind you.

So he let you finish the beer from Cyclone while he stood behind you, his big hand splayed across the bare skin of your belly. He kissed the side of your neck and praised you for being a good girl. And if Cyclone happened to be looking in this direction as Bradley's fingers dipped down into the front of your jeans, then so be it. Let him watch. Let everyone else watch as Bradley got his tipsy, twenty four year old girlfriend whining for his cock in the middle of the Hard Deck on a Friday night.

"Daddy," you moaned, grinding back against his erection, back arched as you set down your empty glass. "You're teasing me."

Bradley unbuttoned your jeans as he suggested, "Let's go outside?"

You smiled and bit your lip as you asked him, "Are you going to take me home?"

"Something like that," he replied, leading you toward the bar so he could close out his tab. And if that meant that both Helen and Admiral Simpson got a good look at the way you were coming apart in Bradley's arms while he signed his credit card slip, then that was just fine with him.

---------------------------

You stumbled out into the parking lot while Bradley unzipped your jeans. "Take me home?" you asked before his lips clashed against yours again. He tasted like that free bourbon, and you moaned into his mouth. You were so horny, you'd probably never make it back to Bradley's place at all.

"You want me to take you to my house, Princess? You gonna start calling that home?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms and heading for the pitch black corner of the parking lot where he'd left the Bronco.

"Daddy!" you whined, rubbing your lips all over the scars on his neck. "Take me home to your bed," you demanded, really quite tipsy. You'd never behaved like this before, ready to go in a parking lot, but apparently Bradley could read you like one of your nursing textbooks.

He deposited you next to the Bronco, your feet meeting the ground just a fraction of a second before he spun you to face the passenger side door. His hands felt rough on your body as you reached for the door, your palms braced against the window. Bradley yanked down your jeans and underwear, and you cried out as the cool, night air met your wet pussy.

"Bradley!"

"Shh," he whispered next to your ear. "You want me to fuck you right here, Princess?"

You felt almost ashamed as you gasped, "Yes," but you were so turned on for him, it didn't even matter. He bent you at the hips a little more, and then you felt Bradley thrust inside you in one quick motion. He filled you up so fast, the sensation took your breath away. He didn't give you time to get used to the stretch or to accommodate him before he was fucking you. It felt like he was teaching you a lesson as you tipped your head back and let him suck on your neck.

He nibbled on you before soothing you with his tongue, and you tried to look around, tried to make sure you were alone, but you would probably beg him to keep going even with an audience at this point. He felt that good. The cold glass against your palms was the only thing keeping your body from hitting the Bronco as he fucked you harder.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this," he rasped next to your ear. His voice combined with the sounds of his thighs slapping against yours, the sounds of filthy sex, as you started clenching around his cock.

"Daddy," you whimpered, unable to slow down your building orgasm.

"I'm your Daddy," he growled. "Just me. You're so fucking hot, you know that? Sinful looking. Can't leave you alone for a goddamn second."

"Ohhh," you keened, getting louder for him. He did nothing to stop you.

His words just made you clench harder as he said, "Every guy in that bar wishes he was me right now. Dying to be buried in this tight pussy. They all wanna look at you and touch you, but you're mine." He fucked you harder as he softly said, "You're my Princess."

"Oh!" you gasped, cumming on his cock as he continued to fuck you until you were a moaning, writhing mess. Your legs were shaking, and you felt like you had just wet yourself, but Bradley kept going. He didn't stop until he filled you up with his cum and let it drip down your legs. Then he spun you around and kissed your lips so softly as you leaned back against the door, your head swimming with satiated pleasure.

Bradley's hot cum cooled on your inner thighs, sending a chill through your body. He took his time pulling your jeans back up, and then he was helping you onto the passenger seat with the promise that he'd take care of you again when he got you home and sent Amelia away for the night. And the thing was, you'd definitely let him keep that promise.

-----------------------------

When Bradley woke up to an empty bed and a quiet house on Saturday morning, he was instantly alert. He'd slept in, and something didn't feel right. He jumped out of bed, and when he rushed to Noah's bedroom door, he found his son's room was empty.

"Noah? Princess?" he called out, continuing to the kitchen in just his underwear.

"Hi, Daddy," Noah said, looking up at him and spilling a forkful of scrambled egg onto the floor. Bradley contemplated getting a dog just to clean up the food messes Noah made, but a pet would only be something else he had to worry about when he was deployed.

"Hi, Daddy," you echoed from the seat across the table. You had your kid friendly playlist going, and you were reading from one of your textbooks, but you glanced up at him and smiled. You looked tired, and now Bradley felt bad for keeping you up half the night with his cock buried inside you. The Hard Deck had been a massive wakeup call for him. He was going to have to work hard to keep you. That much was obvious now. But you also needed the rest of the weekend to get yourself organized, and that was something he could help with.

He kissed Noah's forehead and then yours. "You want some coffee?" he asked you softly, and you nodded in response. He would take care of anything you needed, but he knew you wouldn't let him provide for you. Hell, you hadn't given him a real answer about moving in here, even though he'd asked and dropped hints. He wanted you here all the time. He couldn't stop thinking about what it might be like to get you pregnant ever since the idea was planted in his head on Wednesday.

As he worked the coffee maker to get you a vanilla latte just the way you liked it, he watched you cut some of the fruit in Noah's bowl into smaller pieces. And when Noah climbed into your lap, you didn't make a fuss that he was interrupting you.

"I'll take him out for the day, maybe do some grocery shopping while you work," he told you, his tone apologetic. "And then tonight, after bedtime, I'm all yours, Princess. We'll get everything done."

You kissed Noah's cheek and said, "I made you a grocery list. We're almost out of Skittles already. You boys can go to the store while you're out, and then I'll make dinner later."

Bradley wanted to protest, he really did, but he also wanted to eat one of your homemade dinners. So he got Noah dressed for the day and took him to the playground and then on a nature walk and then to the grocery store. He kept him out of your hair for hours and hours, and when he got home that afternoon, he carried a napping Noah into his bed.

You were sitting at the kitchen table wearing Bradley's gray sweatpants and one of his shirts, and you were typing away on his computer. He found himself entranced by your purple nail polish and calm exterior. He didn't disrupt you while he unpacked the groceries, he just set one of the many bags of Skittles he purchased on the table next to you. "Love you," he whispered, and you looked up at him with a little smirk as you opened your snack of choice. "You don't even have to share that bag with me."

"Thanks, Daddy." And that was all you said to him until you stood up and stretched a few hours later and started to make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, because Noah started bugging about it.

"Let's give Princess a break, Bub. I'll make the ants on the logs today, and you can help me." It took Bradley just as long to cut up the carrots and spread the peanut butter as it did for you to make an actual meal, but as he watched Noah decorate them with raisins, Bradley felt a certain level of accomplishment.

He knew how to cook now, kind of. He could make healthy snacks that Noah actually liked, sort of. And most importantly, he had managed to start a relationship with a woman who not only loved him, but loved his son as well.

"Here you go," you announced, setting plates of dinner down in front of both of them.

"Yay!" Noah cheered, and Bradley had to stop him from reaching for the hot food.

"Listen," Bradley said between bites of food. "Early bedtime tonight after a nice bath. And then tomorrow night we'll have a family movie night. We can go to the theater that serves dinner at your seat so we don't have to cook anything here."

"But that place is expensive," you protested. "And I still have to finish studying for my final on Monday."

"We'll study tonight," Bradley promised. "And the fancy movie theater isn't too expensive for my family."

----------------------------

You insisted on being the one to put Noah in bed when he finished his bath. After working for twelve hours straight on school assignments, you needed a little break, and some hugs from Noah really did the trick.

Once he was tucked in, you knew you needed to study for your anatomy final, but all you wanted was a glass of wine and a hot shower with your hot boyfriend. You found him in the living room, rooting through the drawers underneath the stereo system that must have belonged to his parents.

"Oh my goodness," you teased, gasping as he looked up at you. "Are those cassette tapes? Are you sure you're only thirty six?"

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, pulling you toward the couch. "Almost thirty seven, actually. You know, I was going to play something I thought you might like while we study, but nevermind."

"Wait, I take it back, I take it back!" you protested, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Play it for me. Please?"

"Fine," he groaned, running his hands down your sides and bending to kiss you. "But only because I'm in a good mood." Then he started to play the tape, and you noticed that he already had your textbook and a fresh bag of Skittles waiting on the couch.

"Thanks for doing this," you whispered, watching as he settled down and patted his thigh.

"Come here," he coaxed as the mellow rock music played softly, and you were surprised to find you knew the band. "I like studying with you," he said with a grin as you settled onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

As he tore open the bag of Skittles, you reminded him, "I'll be looking for a job soon. No more studying."

"Gotta make this count then," he replied, pulling a red Skittle out and feeding it to you. "Fifty percent of the Skittles are mine. You can earn your share by answering questions correctly from your study guide."

You scoffed and ran your fingers through his hair. "I should get a more generous share of the goods tonight. As a reward for all my hard work."

He grunted and rolled his eyes. "Fine. You can have sixty percent. But just for tonight. Tomorrow we go back to a fifty/fifty split."

"Deal," you whispered, kissing his lips.

And it was all so gentle, the way Bradley fed you a yellow Skittle and then a purple one as he went down the study guide, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your thigh through the gray sweatpants. Anytime you needed an extra minute to consider your answer, you pulled your fingers through his hair and down his neck as you contemplated.

"You know this one, Princess. I know you do."

Every time he encouraged you, giving your hip a little squeeze, you got the right answer. And then you got a Skittle. And then you got a kiss.

"Will you come with me to my exam on Monday morning?" you asked him softly, your head coming to rest on his shoulder once the candy was all eaten. "I don't think I can do it without you there."

He kissed your forehead and held you close. "Sure you can, Baby. You'll ace it. Besides, I have to meet with Tracy and get everything settled. You don't need me at all."

But that was a lie. You did need him. You needed him. And Noah. "I do," you whispered, your lips brushing his neck. "I need you, Bradley."

"You already have me."

--------------------------

Cyclone, you dirty dog. Inching closer to this deployment. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 28

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