careful - i write

21+ || she/her side blog for side hussels asks and requests open || mdni pfp: ain’t me - baby jane

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: Heyo! This is the part 2 of the series scar tissue. thanks to those who read this! :)) 🩵

series: Scar Tissue (leon x fem!oc) (past parts: part 1)

current era: post vendetta leon

summary: while meeting with chris, leon gets a tip on a shop for a knife commission. his visit to the shop is a strong reminder of the past, as well as a promise for the future.

Chapter 1: Painful Memories and Pretty Faces

Leon has traveled to many places, but seldom does he remember them. At that time, he remembers remarking how this particular place slept on that sweet spot between humanity and the rest of civilization, with a horizon of distant greens and greys as a border. It seems as though it’s just as he’d left it. The Mercedes sinks into the Sunday morning’s mundane cacophony, where semi-trucks merge in and out of factories and a few unlucky civilians pass with a coffee and yawn at their lips. 

The town itself is small, but the cluster of cities comprising the area make it seem like one sparse metropolis. In the rear view mirror, Leon watches the scenery cycle between lush woodlands and strip malls splattered every few miles. With no skyscrapers to envy the sun, there’s nothing to pollute the natural colors of creation. Truly, it feels like a gem, and there’s an itch building within him to keep it that way. 

While it’s rare to have time off, it’s not impossible. No amount of red tape could tie him to the DSO forever. Human rights, mental health, physical wellness - those cliche buzzwords couldn’t be abandoned just yet, if the mask is to remain. Nonetheless, the time is slim. Leon has one weekend before facing a deployment, and he doesn’t know when he’ll return. Before he leaves, he figures having something to return to might be a nice change of pace, even if that came in the form of a sharp, double-edged blade. 

After an hour's drive, the GPS cues a final signal to a red brick building - a local New England staple. The main portion sits at about the size of a two-story house, while an even smaller low-rise annex squats within the surrounding oaks and maples. Pulling into the driveway, Leon joins a lonely black sedan with no decoration besides the pollen crusted onto the windshields. 

Some sparrows and their friends scatter as his boots crunch up to the dented, metal door. Worth’s Weaponry. He reads, taking a breath and twisting the handle. Stepping inside, he’s greeted by a kiss of relief from the wet summer heat. Being closer to the water, it’s noticeably hotter than what he’s used to. Sure, long drives always feel nicer on the bike, but he and the heat never got along; and he’s no glutton for punishment in that regard.

On the left is a long glass counter with an array of guns and knives on display. On the right are rows of shelves with larger weapons locked into their racks. It’s an eclectic selection, one that’s clearly designed by a craftsman rather than a salesman. Leon nods approvingly at the traditional Japanese blades decorating the walls, but the wonder falls dead and dumb when his eyes land on the faces smiling on the altar mounted beneath them. 

Joseph. Robert. His wife. And Emma. 

The Kendo family. As his vision blurs, the residual spite towards Chris fizzles out. The older man was right to hesitate at bringing him here, and that notion merely adds to the sick. At the sight of the little girl, something hot and acrid rises that takes a hard swallow to get down. Out of all he saw on that day, this is perhaps the memory that the rookie cop wanted to forget the most. 

“Can I help you?” A voice cuts through the clutter. Leon blinks. A young woman stares at him from behind the counter.

Jessica? Leon cringes as a wayward flame finds a second life, singeing a bit of Chris’s portrait in his mind. 

She’s pretty, but not stunning - beautiful but not perfect. Deep brown eyes and hair with fair skin speckled by the sun. A petite frame of soft curves hiding gentle muscle. She’s dressed simply in jeans and a shirt with her hair pinned back in a clip. 

“Can I help you?” She repeats, firm but polite.

Leon blinks again. “Do you guys accept commissions?” 

“Yes, but I’m not the best person to ask. I’m just the secretary.

“The owner is out of town for the week,” she continues. “If you come by, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help. Could I get a name?”

“Leon,” he answers. She jots his name and phone number on a notepad before grabbing at a business card for more scribbling. The name ‘Damien’ slides up and down in simple, straight font - nothing like the curly cursive of ‘Jessica’. He exhales. 

“I’ll be out of town myself. I don’t know when I’m getting back.”

“I don’t want to hold up your business, so I understand if you take up somewhere else. I’m sure Damien can give you recommendations if you give him a call.”

Never in his days has he been doffed from a sale, moreover recommended to a rival. However, he doesn't dislike it. It’s good to see that the spirits are honored by more than the photos in this shop.

“I think I’ll keep my business here,” he answers, tucking the card into his wallet, “if that’s all right?”

She smiles. “You’re welcome anytime, Leon.” Albeit small, the expression nonetheless reaches her eyes, transforming her detached tone into something calming. 

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Reanne.”

As he mulls the sound of her over his tongue, a buzz in his back pocket rattles each syllable like rocks back down his throat. He tugs his phone out, groaning. “Sorry, gotta take this. I’ll be back soon.”

At least he has something to look forward to.

divider: @saradika-graphics

fic inspo:

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: well. long time no update. i won’t lie i got a case of the sads but i’m fine :)

era: any and many unless mentioned!

summary: part 5 of this

Leon Kennedy Headcanons (5)

•••

He’s an ass man. I said what I said.

…

Besides ass, I don’t think Leon would have much of a preference for body type. As long as you're healthy with a good mindset towards it, he’s happy.

He’s seen so much death, so much mutation, so much mutilation...everything that the body shouldn’t be. Plus, in the world he works - politics, power, money, etc. - it’s all about appearance. While I think Leon’s well-groomed appearance is due mostly to control and fitness, I think a lot of the people around him could be very well caught up in chasing vanity. There’s just so much ugliness in all of it, and for Leon, the glimmer would shine away from that gold in time.

Honestly, the biggest appeal would be a natural human body. The stretch marks, the moles, the movement… Everything is just so mundane, so human, so real.

It has more of an effect than one would suspect.

…

The sexiest thing you could do is have a good heart.

“I think it’s easier to save the world than it is to save your soul.”

Younger Leon might have more of a wandering eye, but as he matured, older, more seasoned Leon definitely grew to prioritize integrity. Even if the goal is righteous, he values those who don’t sell out in the process. Yes, there is a time and space for compromise, but he sees such beauty in those who don't lose their soul.

He knows it’s a tad naive and stupid, but that type of person keeps him bearing north while the world grabs at his compass.

…

Leon also values quiet, subtle strength.

It’s easy to see Leon as a brute due to his finishing blows, but really, he’s rather introspective. Leon’s mental and emotional intelligence makes him just as powerful as his biceps do.

Restraint is difficult. While the masses praise candor retaliation, Leon values those who deny that immediate gratification. That’s not to say that he doesn’t want someone to stand up for themself, rather there is an allure towards those that take aim before dealing their blows or know when to hold fire.

…

Leon is a classic when it comes to gift giving. Roses, chocolates, and jewelry. Sure, those expand once he realizes your tastes, but at the end of the day, those scream romance to him.

I also think he’d be one to get you a teddy bear. It would be something that he won at a fair for you, because honestly, he seems the type to pride himself at beating the carnival algorithm. Sure, some would say you're both too old for stuffed animals, but he wanted you to have something when he wasn’t home. If he ever sees you sleeping with it, consider him whipped.

…

I regret to inform us all: I fear he is a toilet reader.

Leon - must you meet your word count on the shitter, my love?

This is a personal ick for me. Maybe it’s not for you. Idk, you do you, diva. I won’t yuck your yum. I love the man regardless.

…

I think he has a thing for long hair, but I also don’t think he realizes that he has a thing for long hair.

Most of the women he knows work in the field to some degree. Long hair is only an asset to your enemy in a fight, so they either keep it short or pin it back. It would be rare to date someone with truly long hair.

He would mindlessly play with it. He would enjoy the sight of it blowing in the wind. He’s a tad starry-eyed when it's loose and cascading over their shoulders.

There's something about it that reminds him of all the illustrations in fairytale books he’d seen as a kid. It's a reminder of things that are from a softer and more innocent time...

…

Leon is not a clumsy person, but he’s also human, so he’s not immune to the clumsies either. I feel like he has to trip up the stairs at least once, or bang his hip on a doorway at least twice in a day.

On missions, he l.o.c.k.s.i.n. but at home? The man is running on fumes. You can’t tell me the sleep doesn’t catch up with him, where that pinkie toe is on the hunt for the nearest table leg to kiss. 💋

…

On that note…

I also think Leon misplaces things more than he’d like to admit. On missions, I’m sure his jacket casualties are due to the fact that he’s consistently outrunning an apocalypse. However, at home, I think it’s, again, mostly due to sleep deprivation.

Home is the only time he can really ‘turn off’, but even then, the opportunity is far and few. Plus, I don’t think Leon ever really ‘turns off’ because home has never felt like home.

Car keys, wallet, pens… he has a bowl at the entryway where everything gets put once he gets back. While Leon may be a bit of a mess at times, he’s a proactive mess. He’ll find some way to curb the chaos.

…

I headcanon that Leon had a vasectomy. Odd note to end this update on, but hear me out.

I don’t see him wanting to bring kids into his world. I think the weight of the world’s corruption would dissuade him from that lifestyle. Moreover, the fact that he could disappear at any moment… the fact that a loved one has already been used as leverage…

He’s an empath. I think it would be hard enough to convince him to let a partner into that world, let alone a child who has no form of genuine consent to it. It’s not that he doesn’t like the idea of it. It’s the fact that he loves it so much he’s willing to give it up in order to protect it.

Leon is a man of control, and I don’t think he’d trust a partner with a risk of pregnancy, especially if it’s a casual hook-up. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he utilizes multiple forms of contraceptives. This characteristic is on his laundry list of reasons as to why he wouldn’t be a good partner. ☹️

divider: @saradika-graphics

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: Heyo! This is a series that will features a few of my oc’s. It covers post-Vendetta to RE9 with a few flashbacks. The story will be told through smatterings of one-shots, since I've never been good at classic plot lines whoops. Still, there's a plot and point to it all. I'm itching to do some character exploration for Leon, as well as some for the other characters, too. I love the RE lore from beginning to end, and I just think there's so much potential for storytelling. Thanks to those who read this! :)) 🩵 series: Scar Tissue (leon x fem!oc)

current era: post vendetta

summary: Leon has experienced many things and seen much more. He's watched the dead breathe, he’s witnessed the living breathe their last. He's hacked through flesh and bone and shot out nightmares that not even the devil dreams. He could categorize every cursed combination of creation - yet the most terrifying creature in his existence is her because she had seen him but did not run. This is a story of Leon's love, where he finds a bird to share the view.

Scar Tissue

Prelude: Before the Meet

“Can you quit losing your shit?”

“I have ‘em,” Leon mumbles, rummaging through his pockets. “There here, just… somewhere.”

Chris huffs and nods towards the black SUV a few stalls over. “We’ll take mine. I hardly get you in the same zip code, and I’m not wasting my time looking for your car keys.”

“We can take the bike.” Out of Leon’s mouth, the sentiment comes out as less of a suggestion and more of a taunt. Chris doesn’t even indulge him a glance. 

“I ain’t holding onto you like that.”

Leon offers a wry smile. “Yeah, and stuffing you into a side car would be like shoving King Kong into a shoe.”

…

The car ride is quiet, but the silence isn’t heavy. It’s a vacation away from the noise, where any vicious banter is like a long exhale at the end of the day. There is simply no need to validate what’s unspoken. 

No matter how much time has passed, the two could truly pick up as if it was yesterday. It’s no lie to say that the men rarely crossed spaces, nonetheless, it wasn’t impossible. It just took time - a commodity that unfortunately neither often had. 

“What do you want to eat?” Chris asks. Leon shuffles in his seat, crossing his arms. He knows the real question being asked. 

Are you still drinking?

Liquor never piled on the pounds for Leon. If anything, it dropped them. An appetite didn’t exist in the stupor because nothing did. For a moment, everything became an intangible, glorious fuzzy mess. However, given the fact that his belt loop is one hole down from a few weeks ago, Leon would say that he’s been living in less of a haze. 

The battle didn’t end in New York. There’s always a stronger yet more subtle war raging within humanity, and it’s those types of battles that Leon never seemed capable of fighting. 

It was a miracle that he kept the bottle a secret from the DSO for so long; or the more likely case was that they’d already known and just didn’t care. It was the battery that kept him ticking on their time, after all.

Leon knew that he reeked of more than death on the battlefield against Arias. His blood ran brown, and it was the only thing keeping his heart pumping and his hands steady. Nonetheless, it made him reckless. It got the job done by annihilating any inhibitions in his path, which included himself. 

As much as it was a pain for Chris to have realized the extent of his drinking, it was surreal to see someone intervene. The words still ring clear in Leon’s head. 

Maybe we can’t save everyone, but we’re the only ones who can save them at all. 

Leon couldn’t afford to die - not innately for himself, but for the millions of lives tied to his survival. If he dropped his weapon, the target would merely shift its gaze. For better or for worse, he was bound to the fight. 

Leon shakes his head, snapping himself from his thoughts. “I could go for a burger, but you know me - I’m not picky.”

…

“Well, would you look at that,” Leon announces as he drops the elusive set of keys onto the table. Chris rolls his eyes, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Please! You act like you’ve never misplaced anything in your life.”

“Not like you, Leon.” He shakes his head, tossing the crumpled napkin onto the table. “The only good thing is that I always know what to get you for Christmas. Tell me - you want leather or suede this year?”

Leon shrugs off the jab, throwing his hair back. "I still have the last jacket, smart ass. This time, it’s the knife that took the bullet."

Chris whistles. “Damn, tough loss. She was nice.”

“But not a total loss. I drew up something new, something better. Just need to find someone to make it.”

Leon pulls out a steno pad from his coat pocket and slides it across the table. The illustrations are shaky yet detailed. As Chris’s brows furrow in concentration, Leon uses the opportunity to steal a fry.

“What, the DSO can’t do it?” Chris smacks his hand. Unfazed, Leon dips another into his ketchup.

“This one’s special, and maybe I’ll have more gumption to keep it if it’s mine through and through.”

…

Chris is visibly sweating as Leon eyes him lazily from the passenger’s seat. On the front of the business card is a listing for a weaponsmith. He flips it between his fingers. On the back is a name written in blue ink and swirly script. 

“Jessica,” the younger man reads. “Is she special?”

“Not to you.”

Leon smirks. “So what, this place does good work?”

“I’ve been a customer for about three years now. Haven’t failed me yet.”

“What took you so long to say something?”

“Well…” The older man sighs, giving Leon a look that’s a bit too soft for comfort. “You remember Kendo?”

divider: @saradika-graphics

fic inspo:

[amaranth-incognito]

I love the way you write Leon, it's got a tasteful pinch of humor, pinch of canon and some fanon sprinkled here and there 😆 looking forward to more from you! Woohoo 🤸‍♀️

AAAAHhhh this means so much to me - thank you 🙈💕

i was really nervous to start posting, so i appreciate the kind support. :))

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: hiiii! sorry for the delay 🙆🏻‍♀️ i’m working on a new oc series so stay tuned

era: any and many unless mentioned!

summary: part 4 of this

Leon Kennedy Headcanons (4)

•••

Leon has relatively good teeth, but they’re certainly not perfect.

Honestly, he hardly smiles wide enough to see them, but sometimes when he speaks, you can tell he has a bit of an overbite. It also makes his upper lip stick out to where he looks like he’s pouting.

He also got a tooth knocked out during military training. It's a molar and barely noticeable since he got that sucker capped real fast. He’s not insecure, but he’s also not announcing his missing teeth on the daily. The only time he’s insecure is when it pops out while he’s eating, which isn’t infrequent…

…

BONE CHEWER! That’s why the tooth is popping loose!

Steak bone, chicken bone, pork chop bone - are you a dog, Mr. Kennedy?

He’s also big on chewing ice and popcorn seeds. The ice drives Redfield up the wall. It’s like anti-asmr.

…

Soda over juice. Gatorade gives him the worst sugar high, and he crashes like a lead balloon.

Root beer is great. Sprite is better. Pepsi is the best, and it’s always Pepsi over Coke. Not for the taste, though. No... Leon drinks with his eyes.

“I always liked the color of the can.”

…

If you get this man to go to bed without clothes, consider yourself special.

Leon typically always goes to bed with something on. Life on the battlefield is like living life on the run. It’s hard to shake the sensation that someone is watching you.

He’s also not big on showing off his scars. I can imagine that some of them are gnarly enough to have left a lasting dent in him. They’re physical manifestations of how his life has changed over the years, and he’s not fond of reminiscing.

With that said, he somehow doesn’t see the need for any underwear when he’s relaxing at home. I guess the sweatpants and shirt are enough, but hey, who am I to complain? 👀

…

Leon isn’t a messy person, and he values a tidy home. Growing up, he was taught to take care of his space and belongings because there were few of them. With that being said, it’s not difficult to get him to do chores. He’ll do pretty much anything.

Except wash dishes.

He will procrastinate washing the dishes until the cabinets are bare. Dishwashers help about 0%. There’s just something about the mushy food in the warm water that gives him chicken skin.

Plus, he often gets sleepy after he eats, so the last thing he wants to do is stand in the kitchen and wash a plate with his lower back screaming. The moment the water catches the spoon and Niagara Falls onto his shirt, everything is getting thrown away.

***

Yes, he gets sleepy after he eats. He needs a good ol’ nap after a warm meal. It’s mostly due to his serial meal skipping through the day because it messes with his energy levels.

It’s not that he isn’t hungry, rather he just doesn’t want to take the time to do anything about it. He’s a self-established lazy cook, and he’s grown accustomed to the feeling of hunger from his work. Even more, he’s the type of person who cannot stop a project until it’s finished. If he can push through, he’ll push through for better or for worse.

…

Favorite season: Winter. Even though the snow is a pain in the ass.

Second favorite season: Fall. He likes the fog and chill.

Least favorite season: Summer. He’s not into sweating, and since he doesn’t wear shorts, the jeans are uncomfy and sticking to him like wallpaper.

…

Leon doesn’t mind texting. It’s fast and to the point.

What he doesn’t like is texting that isn’t fast and to the point.

“K” truly sums up all he has to say. No hidden emotion, no ill intent. If you want to hear more from him, you have to call.

…

Chocolate lover. We already know about the Reese’s addiction, Leon.

He’s a big fan of milk chocolate. A Hershey’s bar is always calling his name when he stops at a gas station. Dark chocolate is meh. Unless it’s those cherry cordials, he’s not interested.

The biggest threat to his health is a chocolate covered Oreo. He cannot be trusted.

…

You know what else is a big threat to his health?

Pepperoni. It's like a bandaid.

That day old lasagna that’s a tad dry? Pepperoni.

That soup that’s a little bland? Pepperoni.

Mashed potatoes tasting a bit like cement? Well, have you thought of pepperoni?

divider: @saradika-graphics

Part 5

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: i’m less attuned to chris’s character, so feel free to fact check me. this is just my opinion lol. era: any but specifics are noted summary: part 2 of this

Chris Redfield Headcanons (2)

Big nature boy. Big on kayaking. Big on hiking. If him and Leon are together, then don’t expect them to stay on-trail. Is it dangerous? Yes. Have they seen worse? Absolutely.

…

It’s not that he can’t read. It’s that he can’t read most people’s handwriting. 

All those swirly, curly scripts look like spaghetti thrown on the wall. 

“I have a better chance with hieroglyphics.”

That’s not to say that his hand writing is any better. For that meatball of a hand, he has tiny handwriting. The letters are precise and to-the-point. There’s nothing extra about it, but he does take the time to dot the ‘i’.

…

Body temperature only operates in extremes. Either goosebumps cold or sweat-stain hot.

He’d rather be hot than cold. He doesn’t mind shucking off a couple layers, but all those layers make him claustrophobic. Then, he starts sweating because of the stress. Compression shirts are the exception because it feels like a second skin. There’s room to breathe and move, and Chris is no idiot - he knows what he looks like in them. 

…

While he tolerates politics better than Leon, sports are his primary source of entertainment. 

Yes, he follows sports teams, and the Super Bowl is his legitimate Super Bowl. He’ll watch any and every sport, but if he had to watch one live, he’d pick soccer or rugby. 

As for playing sports, it’s not that he won’t play sports, but he prefers solitary activities like weightlifting. He likes just putting in headphones and drowning out the world in some reps. 

…

Aside from sports, he’s big into Marvel movies. He knows the lore. His favorite superhero is Iron Man because he admires the street smarts and book smarts. Plus, the suit is too cool to pass up. 

…

Back sleeper. Starfish mode. 

When he’s asleep on the couch, it’s the whole couch. Body splayed long ways, arms flung over the side, leg hitched over the back.

Chris works overtime when he’s awake and asleep. Not only is he a snorer, but he’s also a moaner. It’s sometimes so loud that he wakes himself up. 

Yes, he does have the audacity to say that it wasn’t him and that he was awake the whole time. 

…

Do cups and plates exist in your house, Mr. Redfield? Drinking milk from the jug. Eating ice cream from the tub. Hell, he’s even taken shots out of the jelly jar.

The biggest one is dumping chips from the bag. Since he doesn’t like his fingers getting dirty, he just delivers the goods directly into his mouth. 

“I was gonna eat the whole bag anyway.”

…

Not bothered by baby diapers. Not bothered by barf. Not bothered by any form of human excretion.

But picking up dog poop in a bag? 

That is sin. 

…

His car is generally clean, spare the empty food wrappers. 

Chris is an eating while driving kind of guy. Hands unwrapping the burrito, knee against the steering wheel. The man barely has time to eat, and eating is a non-negotiable. It’s not that he gets hangry, but he gets fatigued when he’s hungry… and a fatigued Chris is a sleepy Chris. 

…

Sleeps with a light on. It’s typically something small and dim that helps navigate him to the bathroom or kitchen for a glass of water. 

He’s not afraid of sleeping in the dark, rather it's a comfort that distinguishes battlefield from bedroom. When he opens his eyes, he immediately makes out his surroundings. Plus, there is something about a warm, yellow light that’s soothing… almost nostalgic.

divider: @saradika-graphics

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: I have some thoughts, mind if I share?

These are just my opinions, essentially a glorified headcanon that’s attempting to be more objective than subjective. Some is based on my personal experience, some is just character analysis.

Take it as you will, or discard it as you please.

MDI! MDI! MDI! MDI!

Minors! Go. Read. Something. Else.

The Reality of Love with Leon

There’s a lot of canon/non-canon/headcanon/trashed-canon material on the man, but if there’s any reigning absolute - Leon would be difficult to love.

Leon and Weakness

Leon has his weaknesses. Everyone does! It’s human. Leon is forever an upright man. He is one of the best out there. He is in no way lesser because he’s human. If anything, his humanity is often his greatest strength.

What is that exactly?

Empathy.

Unfortunately, in this world, precious empathy is one of the easiest traits to use and abuse because it’s naturally self-sacrificing. Leon’s life is a prime and heartbreaking example.

We see the toll it takes on him, but besides the sassy one-liners, how does he actually cope?

Leon and Coping

Leon has two vices that have become coping mechanisms. Both have to be legal and outwardly socially acceptable per government eligibility. Leon has to stay employed, not just for money but also to protect his loved ones. If anything, his coping mechanisms probably aligned with a lot of the toxic masculinity found in that workplace environment. That’s not to say that Leon subscribes to toxic masculinity by any means. He’s quite the opposite. It’s just a convenient cover.

The first vice is booze. While it provides less of a relief, it’s less risky and less painful than the second option.

The second is sex. Leon is in no way a womanizer, but as an empath, he innately craves emotional intimacy. While the liquor is certainly nothing to scoff, this is the more damaging of the two vices.

Leon and Love

People tend to give whatever’s valuable in their eyes, much like a raven offering shiny buttons. Trust, permanency, devotion, respect, etc: these are all things Leon has sacrificed for the good of another over and over. But how often do we ever see others reciprocate these emotional sentiments?

I myself am an empathetic person, and I can say that there is a point where I’ve hit rock bottom due to an imbalance in giving and receiving. A major issue was that the desire for these things never left when I got to that point. If anything, the loneliness made me more desperate, and I started to grab at whatever supplement was available.

Thus, for Leon, desperation supplements emotional intimacy with physical intimacy.

It’s so interesting to rewatch content of this man. I find his on-screen flirting and romantic interactions to be oddly in-character yet out-of-character, like a collision of his nature vs. nurture tendencies. The man is awkward and dutifully faithful, yet he flirts with the most baddie, unavailable women (either emotionally or physically unavailable like some of them had partners).

By nature, I believe Leon is always a one-lady type of guy. Given that the rookie cop never seemed to die that day, I don’t think this dream is entirely dead either.

By nurture, he’s just very, very lost. At this stage, Leon is perhaps more comfortable accepting a type of love that doesn’t choose him completely.

Why?

1. Survivors' guilt.

“Why should I get this when they didn’t?”

Plain and simple. This is something that would haunt him throughout the healthiest of relationships, albeit it would be the most manageable struggle.

2. His job. On top of the BOW’s and countless people out for his blood, the government is an unspoken, looming threat in the RE universe. He would hate to bring someone into the spoken reality he witnesses.

One caveat to this could be if Leon was allotted some form of control to ease into the new arrangement. For example, if his partner agreed to keep the relationship private, it would allow him to control the narrative to-and-from the government for a season. However, how many people would be willing to be kept in the dark like that? Most people want to share their love life - post on social media, tell their families, go to work gatherings, meet each other's friends, etc. Leon would never ask for such trust and sacrifice from someone.

“My life is not normal.”

He’s had normalcy ripped from him, and he can’t imagine someone ripping it from themselves for him. Nonetheless, it’s still a more manageable struggle. Yes, it would take a massive effort. You would need to be clear and firm with him just as much as you need to be gentle, but in time, he could accept the tangible evidence of your satisfaction in the sacrifice. Laughter, joy, pleasure, silliness, peace…

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you can’t fake that kind of stuff… You can’t fake happiness.”

3. Finally, emotional vulnerability. As much as he wants it, it’s damaged. It’s the part of him that’s been toyed with the most, and it would be the hardest to overcome, so let’s dive in…

Leon and Emotional Vulnerability

Leon has had massive attacks on his empathy, but I want to highlight two of the more unmentioned instances because I think they would severely warp his ability to connect in a relationship.

1. I suspect that the possibility of some form of sexual misconduct towards Leon during that boot-camp training wasn’t zero.

Face it - he was a handsome young man in a crowd that had more than enough power over him to execute bad intentions. Outside of video game lore, it’s deplorable that there are real-life accounts of this happening to real-life individuals. I think RE:4 Leon (esp. remake) toughened-up to keep himself safe from many things.

“Sure, monsters are scary, but humans can be pretty fucking scary, too.”

Whether this is true or not, I’m sure he overall felt like a piece of meat. The evidence is in those side-by-side photos of RE2 and RE4 Leon. It was the start of being treated like an object instead of a person.

2. I think Leon’s been used by lovers. Remember, he’s desperate. At some point, he’ll reach the end of the bottle. The beer will sour, and it will take more to feel less. At some point, he’ll lean into his second vice, but recall the type of love Leon is seeking right now. You’re flirting with heartbreak, Leon Scott! 🤧

I’m not talking about the people in the canon universe. I’m talking about the random ones that filter in-and-out of his daily life. The ones who were more than happy to use his lonely heart and good looks as a gateway for a lucky hook-up. Some may have even been slanted towards monetary or professional gain.

The thing is… Leon is not a stupid man, nor is he an inexperienced one. He would be very well-aware of the game being played here. He just figures his intentions are no better than theirs.

“Can’t blame ‘em… Look at me.”

It's mutual use, so he’ll write off the pain.

But it fucking hurts.

Again, the rookie never died. There’s always a bit of his heart hoping for more. I think that the loneliness drove him not only to sleep with them, but also to trust them to a certain extent.

In RE2, it seems almost natural for Leon to get attached emotionally in an almost naive way. I imagine his younger years would have been full of heartbreak because it would often be one-sided.

To put it simply - I loved you more than you loved me.

I don’t care how buff and bold Leon can be - no one wants to feel like that. He can’t be unaffected.

Leon and Healthy Relationships

So, how does this all manifest in a long-term, prospective healthy relationship?

1. Emotional Disconnect

The facade of nonchalance? That bad ass sass? That coy attitude?

That’s a control mechanism on and off the battlefield. Making it seem like he doesn’t care is his way to take the power back. Nonchalance means there was nothing for them to steal in the first place. Anything else makes him feel foolish. In this case, he feels like a guppy swimming in a pool of sharks, and that type of powerlessness is a trigger.

As a result, intimacy has become more of a processed pleasure. He’s learned to remain in control by limiting the access people have to his emotions. This leads to the next point.

2. Physical Distance

There are certain things he’s trained not to do because it’s too risky for his emotional state. I know we joke about his cat-like tendencies, but really he would be like a skittish tomcat during intimacy.

For example, I think Leon’s legs are very sensitive, and he’d avoid people touching them. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the touch, rather he very much enjoys it. It’s just very sensitive, very personal, and very close to his crouch…

People don’t play nice in a fight. I’m sure he’s been intentionally kicked or grabbed in the nuts during a brawl. It hurts, it doesn’t feel good, but worse - it’s an uncontrollable pain. It steals all breath and sense and control from him. Anything dealing with the southern hemisphere requires emotional vulnerability.

Another example would be receiving oral. Yes, he really wants it, but allowing someone to be that close requires trust on his behalf. Plus, it's a near guarantee for him to get lost in the moment during any type of receiving. His mind wanders, and his reactions are raw and unfiltered.

Thus, hook-ups are probably just centered around intercourse. Here, he’s focused on the act. It keeps his mind busy from fantasizing and sentimentalizing the moment.

Even if he’s in a solid relationship, he’s grown accustomed to having distance. That’s not to say he doesn’t want to be close. Not at all! Once he realizes he can safely have that emotional and physical bond, his starved heart would lean into it immediately. He just needs to get his heart and head in the same place. He’d essentially have to unlearn his nurture and relearn his nature.

This is all to say…

By the time a real partner comes along, it would take a lot of patience, commitment, time, and effort to get him love genuinely.

However, once you reach that point, the love would be beautiful.

I think a lot of us would deem him worth the fight. Just like he believes this world can change, I believe he can change, too. Sure, loving Leon is difficult, but certainly not impossible.

divider: @saradika-graphics

Did you make it this far? Wow, trooper. Thanks for reading!

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: heyo!

era: any and many unless mentioned!

summary: part 3 of this

Leon Kennedy Headcanons (3)

•••

That shirt Chris wore in Death Island?

Ugliest thing he’s seen.

…

Leon is a hairy man, but that’s something that came to him with age. Even in his twenties, his features made him seem much younger than his peers.

However, in time, he grew into it, and now the stubble is mostly there because he can’t keep up with how fast it grows. Plus, again with age, his hair grew darker, which made even a bit of scruff more noticeable.

…

As a pre-teen, he struggled with acne. It mellowed out, but left a bit of scarring. I imagine that the bad habits and stress in the Vendetta-era probably brought another small bout of adult acne. No matter the age, it pisses him off.

…

He bit his fingernails until he was a teenager. He forced himself to quit to impress a crush, but the habit never truly left him.

He keeps his nails short and clean for work, which curbs the biting. However, if he’s really suppressing the nerves, you’ll catch him picking at a hangnail.

…

Shorts are a big no no. Generally, he doesn’t like to show his legs. It’s not an insecurity, it’s just a preference… and well… the hocks are sensitive. 🙂

Of course, if he’s at the beach, it’s fine. But even when exercising, he’ll wear a track suit or sweat pants. Does the man even own basketball shorts??

He’s never succumbing to the classic dad get-up of sneakers and capris.

…

Speed reader, unless it’s fiction. Then, he takes his time. It takes him a bit longer to visualize the imaginary. That’s why comics are a go-to fiction. They got pictures.

…

None of his reading skills transcend into a keyboard or pencil. Awful writer.

The spelling is okay. The organization is passable. The grammar is meh. It’s not that he’s bad at it, but it’s like pulling teeth. He knows what he wants to say, but…

“Fuuuuuuck… how do I say it?”

A 15-minute report can take him up to an hour, and that’s why sitting at a desk is like pinning him in a straight jacket.

…

The man has traversed through mounds of garbage, a maze of sewers, and a myriad of other toxic stinks….

…but it is the smell of air fresheners in a public bathroom that makes him gag. If something stinks, let it stink.

“Don’t try to cover your shit up with ‘Ocean Breeze’.”

…

Leon is a tummy sleeper with one leg hitched up and a pillow under his arm. He’s only on his back if he falls asleep watching tv.

Consequently, his face is usually squished and contorted into the pillow with lips puckered through the night. Thus, he’s a drooler.

He does twitch, especially during that precarious limbo just before reaching deep sleep. This is when most of his sleep paralysis and nightmares occur. If the visions don’t shake him awake, then it’s the twitching.

He knows he’s not a pretty sleeper, so he’s a bit self-conscious when first sharing a bed with a partner. He’d be up the whole night from nerves instead of nightmares.

Still, some company would do wonders for him. While he can never shake off the habits born from staying awake on a battlefield, he definitely sleeps better when someone is there.

…

Cookie monster. There’s no cookie he doesn’t like.

Best cookie: Chips Ahoy

Second best cookie: Oreo

…

This man can fuck up a bag of Doritos, and a bag of sour cream and onion hates to see him coming.

divider: @saradika-graphics

Part 4

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: i don’t think chris is a complete dunce at romance. he just seems like the type to be patient about it. i could see him waiting for the “right one.”

pairing: (imo vendetta) chris x reader

summary: first date with chris… first date for chris…

The First and The Second

Would you believe it if I said this was my first date?

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but Chris' words rang loud and clear in your mind. You both met at work, and given the way Chris worked, it came as no surprise that there was little room in his life for romance.

Your job was nowhere near the level of his, but of course, you’d heard of him. Perhaps, a better way to put it is that you’d been warned. Big, burly, and brute were some of the more common sentiments attached to the infamous Redfield.

You found him a curious creature, though. His history was certainly no secret on or off the battlefield. Surely, damage had been done by his hands, but those same hands were also the ones to carry both him and his sister into adulthood.

You have no idea how the hell he heard of you, or how the hell you ended up on a date.

His first date…

Of all things.

Nonetheless, you can’t help but feel a bit privileged.

…

“A friend told me about this place,” he says, pulling into the driveway.

“Leon?” you guess.

“Yeah, he’s a foodie, believe it or not. If you don’t like it, let me know.”

“Why? So you can let him know?” You retort.

He laughs deep and low, but certainly not loud. For a bear of a man, Chris is relatively soft-spoken. Well, soft not in the literal sense, but he isn’t as boorish as the office commentary makes him out to be. In fact, he’s rather gentle in his own way.

For the past month, he’s brought some sort of drink for you in the mornings. He knew you didn’t like the office talk, so he’d arrive early before the main gossipers clocked-in. If one of you couldn’t make it in time, then surely you’d find something to make up for it the next day - a cookie for your coffee, a bag of chips to go with your lunch…

Once, there was a flower. You recognized it as one that grew in the lunchroom courtyard. Stuck to the stem was a sticky note with his number.

For a self-proclaimed novice, he’s turned out to be quite the romantic in a simple, traditional, almost innocent way.

Chris shifts into park, taking a breath. When he looks at you, there’s a shine to his eye, not tears but something natural.

“Ready?”

…

The place is packed.

“I don’t see your reservation. The earliest I could seat you would be over an hour.”

The server smalls beneath Chris’s shadow. While you couldn’t speak for those unfortunate enough to meet him on the battlefield, you’ve yet to see Chris pull his rank (or muscle) to get somewhere outside of that. As the night wears on, you surmise his body and spirit are simply in an unfortunate juxtaposition.

“What do you want to do?” he sighs, turning to you.

“I can take it or leave it.”

“How hungry are you?”

As if on cue, your stomach answers for you, growling loud and long. Chris’s brow raises in surprise. A huff bursts out of him before his mouth closes in a tight line. You appreciate his attempt not to embarrass you, but his lips are nonetheless upturned at the ends.

“Guess we’ll pass,” he says to the server and offers his arm to guide you back to the car.

…

It started raining about half-way there. You heard Chris swear under his breath before shucking off his coat and gesturing for you to hold it over your head. Jogging ahead, he opened your door.

Now, you sit in the parking lot, still with his coat over your shoulders. Chris’s profile illuminates in alternating flashes of color as he scrolls through restaurant recommendations on his phone. The only other light in the car emits from the streets. It contrasts against the lines by his eyes and paints his body’s silhouette like marble.

He’s tense. Without his jacket, you can make out the muscles winding and flexing up his forearms even in the dim lighting. It's obvious that Chris is a planner, and right now, it’s obvious that things aren’t going as planned. His hand resting on the steering wheel grips periodically at the leather. His jaw clenches in rhythm. You can’t fault him for being nervous. His first date did hit a rock within the first hour.

“Chris?” Your near whisper cuts through the silence like an axe. His eyes shoot towards you.

“I know a good place,” you say. “We just may be a tad overdressed.”

He nods, clicking off his phone.

“Lead the way.”

…

“Hot dog stand? You like hot dogs?”

“Do you not?” you ask, swinging your arms as you walk. In one long stride, Chris pulls up beside you and grabs your hand mid-air.

“Love ‘em.”

You’re surprised by his advance, and given the color creeping towards his ears, so is he.

“This okay?” he asks after the fact. You interlock your fingers with his, grinning cheekily.

“Is this?”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way across the pier towards the concession shack in all its commercial dazzle. At the counter, you place your order, and Chris uses his hip to bump you and your wallet far away from the register.

“Well, if you're paying, then don’t be afraid to order what you want.”

“What does that mean?” he scoffs.

“Meaning, I’m not going to be put off by how much you put away. You’re supposed to enjoy the date, too, you know? Eat your fill.”

The expression on his face is unreadable - a mixture of surprise and something soft. It erases his smile lines, as well as the lines between his brows.

He really is quite handsome.

“You're a big dude, Redfield,” you say, patting his bicep. “Don’t worry, though. I like ‘em big.”

Now, there’s no question about what emotion overtakes his features - wild and unadulterated shock. A laugh gusts out of him as the rest of your giggles drown in the ocean’s cacophony.

…

The pier has long emptied out.

After your meal, you cozy on a bench by the water. With his arm around your shoulder, you watch the waves crash against the wooden beams, as the seagulls screech and soar to their evening perches.

“I love this place.”

“It’s peaceful,” he agrees. You both settle back into the silence. Every so often, his fingers draw wayward circles against your skin.

“Sorry that the date didn’t work out as planned,” he says under his breath. You shift in his embrace.

“Hey, look at me,” you call gently. His gaze flickers down, lashed fluttering when you rise up to press a hand to his cheek.

“It was a privilege to be your first.”

His eyes shut as a breath shudders out of his ribs. With a hand on his thigh, you push yourself upwards as Chris’s body leans into you. Your lips meet briefly, shyly, before softening and parting beneath each other.

“You know,” he remarks softly. His smile is unmistakable against your lips. “I’d actually really like it if you were my second date, too.”

divider: @saradika-graphics

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: i’m less attuned to chris’s character, so feel free to fact check me. this is just my opinion lol.

era: any but specifics are noted

summary: random sfw chris headcanons

Chris Redfield Headcanons (1)

Chris is a man of many things, some known and most unknown.

It’s not that he purposefully hides them from the world, rather not many brave the effort to notice what’s beyond the surface. At the end of the day, he has a home, he has a family… he experiences love just as much as he experiences hate.

All in all, knowing Chris is an honor both on and off the battlefield.

•••

Candy man. Not a chocolate man (that’s Leon), but a sugar-coated candy man. The two are known to split those giant Halloween assortment bags, where Chris takes all the sweets and Leon takes all the chocolate.

Gummy bears, Air Heads, Nerds, Sour Patch Kids…

“Those watermelon ones are the best.”

He keeps bags of candy in his desk drawers. If he knows there’s traffic, he’ll take some for the drive. He's not selfish either and offers some to whoever’s nearby.

How his teeth don’t resemble swiss cheese from a bombshell of cavities - no one knows.

…

He’s sensitive about his stomach. Not emotionally, but literally.

Ticklish.

…

Softest hair on planet earth. Impressive, especially since he’s a certified 5-in-1 shampoo man.

…

Neck pain. Shoulder pain. Back pain. It’s taut in Redfield’s northern hemisphere, and it often sparks a headache.

He’s always griping and squeezing at his shoulders while watching tv. He used to make Claire step on his back when she was younger.

…

Big burrito man.

Breakfast burrito. Traditional burrito. Mexi-Cali Burrito. Every and any establishment that sells a burrito within a 20 miles radius of his office knows Chris by name and face.

Even at home, the man consumes about 80% burrito. He just slaps whatever’s available in a tortilla to make it resemble a meal

…

Doesn’t like to waste food. Expiration dates are… adjustable… debatable.

That’s another selling point on the burritos. He can hide whatever questionable element he’s about to choke down in a tortilla.

The one thing he doesn’t play around with is milk. Not because he hasn’t tried. Oh, he tried… and he paid a price.

…

Drinks water like a horse. His kidneys are textbook impeccable.

Given the amount of water consumption, he does have an emotional support water bottle. It comes with him everywhere, and if he loses it, he goes through hell and high water to get it back.

…

Speaking of Chris and Leon… At work, it’s business. At home, it’s friendship.

The two hang out when life permits. It's a stressless friendship. They can be apart for months and resume exactly where they left off when they reunite.

The two care about each other immensely and equally, and they respect each other's opinions. When it comes to romantic relationships, I think it would bother them if the other didn’t approve of a partner.

Chris tends to have a bossy older brother streak, while Leon can definitely be the shithead little brother when the opportunity arises. It’s stupidass behavior like taking a bite out of his food when he isn’t looking because Chris lectured him about protein.

“Really, Leon?!”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me to eat more protein.”

…

Eyelashes like a baby cow. Long and dark and oh so precious.

…

Big ass feet. Big ass shoes. Big ass socks. Big ass toenails.

Gracious, they all need to air out at the end of the day.

divider: @saradika-graphics

Leon Kennedy Headcanons

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: I weep whenever i see progression pics of this man

pairing: post-vendetta leon x non-dso fem!reader

summary: (oneshot) you stumble on some old photos of leon. you discover just how much he’s lost, but also seek to challenge how much he can have back.

A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

“What’s this?” Shimmying on your haunches, you struggle to pull the box from the depths of the closet.

“Old shit,” Leon grunts. He shuffles beside you and lifts the heavy load with ease, placing it on the dresser. 

“All of this is old shit,” you say, gesturing to the array of storage containers strewn across the room. Leon didn’t have much, but he figured moving you into the apartment would be a good opportunity to clean up whatever’s there.

“Fresh start,” he had said, kissing your temple. “Gotta do it right.”

“Yeah, but this is…” he pauses, dusting off the top. “This is really old shit.”

You know that look - the deadpan stare. It’s certainly not as lifeless as it seems. Leon’s brain is working overtime, so much so that it’s stolen the rest of his senses. 

You raise a curious brow towards the warped, yellow-stained banker box. So far, you’ve mostly come across clothes, outdated uniforms, and old tactical gear. You even reunited with a long-lost comic book collection. Whatever this is - it’s something worth him keeping, but also something worth hiding. 

His eyes flick towards you. You dare not ask. Instead, you smile and crouch back down to continue your rummaging. You give him the space he needs to remember again. 

Suddenly, in the darkness, a voice finds you. 

“You can look if you want.” 

Your head pops out. Leon’s no longer hunched over the box. Instead, he’s moved towards the bed, sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap. Now, it’s his turn to smile - shy and small.

“Are you sure?” you ask, wiping your hands on your jeans. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. You take a moment to kiss his forehead before cracking open into the mystery. After removing the first few layers of miscellaneous papers, your eyes fall on an assortment of photos. 

“Whose this?” you say, holding up a Polaroid of a young blonde girl.

“A girl I dated before I became an officer.”

You nod silently. This isn’t the time to press about his ex’s. The past is something Leon keeps control over, and right now, he’s left a trove of memories for you to wander through without a watchful eye over your shoulder. 

“What about this?” It’s a stunning photo of a mountain range with sorbet skies illuminating the skyscraping evergreens. 

“Isn’t it nice? I saw it on deployment. It’s rare to see things you don’t want to forget out there.”

You nod again, grinning as well, but also swallowing a bit harder. Next is a photo of Leon and two other individuals. Your eyes go wide.

“Is this you and Chris? Wow, you both look so different.”

“Young and dumb. That’s his sister next to him.”

As the sunlight waxes and wanes, you peruse through the photos, listening to whatever he’s willing to share. It isn’t until you land on two particular pieces that you come to sit beside him.

“This is you?”

“One and only. That’s when I graduated from the academy.”

In your right hand is a portrait of a young Leon holding a certificate and cop badge. His eyes are bright, but still with a bit of shadows dusting them. He looks tired, but not exhausted. Apparently, Leon’s physique has always been blessed by the gods, but here, everything is still supple and soft. 

“I’ve never seen you smile with your teeth, but all thirty-two are fighting for attendance here, my love.”

He chuckles. “I only got thirty-one in this one.” He points to the photo in your left hand. “Got a molar knocked out in training. That’s when this was taken.”

The other portrait is just as young, still just as handsome. Except, this one carries much more of the similarities that you see in your Leon today - the deep-set brow, the clenched jaw, the monotone gaze. In time, everything seems to have sharpened and honed, and there’s an edge to it all that erases his boyish charm. 

You hold up both portraits up to his face. 

Fuck, Leon, what happened?

“What?” His voice shocks you out of your thoughts. You shake your head, rising once more.

“Just testing how well you age,” you lie. He scoffs.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be hot for a while longer.”

You roll your eyes before sorting away the box’s contents, rubbing your thumb softly over the cheek of the young officer once last time before returning the photo to its grave. 

…

Those photos have yet to leave you. 

Even now, a week later, your mind is more preoccupied with that than adjusting to your new life in your new home.

Leon’s in his office. Since moving in, you’ve come to realize that it’s less of a sanctuary and more of a prison. It’s the place he locks himself away to get work done. However, he always seems keen on having an interruption - a break from the regime. 

The door is cracked open enough for you to see him folded crookedly over the desk. One hand is busy with a pen, while the other is buried in his hair. With a single knuckle, you tap against the doorframe.  

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he calls.

Surely, Leon is soft towards you. You’ve never seen him fight, but you know the fact that he keeps coming home to you means that someone out there is losing. You know he’s a deadly man, but nonetheless, a deadly man who sighs into every kiss. It’s a juxtaposition you cherish, but never realized when or how the two halves birthed. Perhaps, he was always like this, but according to the photos, the divide seems more on the behalf of nurture than nature. 

As tender as his love may be, even you cannot fully erase what’s been created. The scowl is there. The snarl is there. Hell, even the gaze remains when he meets yours as you sit on the edge of his desk. His calloused hands rest atop your thighs.

Somewhere, deep beneath rubble, that young cop lives, because while Leon is a deadly man, he’s still a man who has laid on your lap every night this week and nudged your hand until you run your fingers in his hair. 

Thoughtfully, you cup his face in your palm, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. 

What could I do to get you to smile like that again?

“I was thinking,” you begin slowly, “how about I make chicken noodle soup tonight?”

“Really?” His brow raises, scowl unfurling. 

“Maybe with a sandwich?"

As he straightens, the light catches the blue in his eyes like the sun in the morning sky.

“Can we do grilled cheese? With bologna?” 

“Why not?” You shrug playfully. His jaw unclenches as something plays across his features. 

“You’re the best,” he says while the tips of his teeth shine through the smile. Perhaps, that rookie isn’t as far beneath the rubble as you thought.

divider: @saradika-graphics

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: i come bearing more.

era: any but if specific i’ll mention it.

summary: part 2 of this

Leon Kennedy Headcanons (2)

•••

Since someone asked…

Leon and a torta?

Big yum.

I think this is one of the rare sandwiches that he seeks out after a day of skipping lunch. The others would be an Italian sub or a Reuben.

He has to eat it at home, though. He’s not a fan of messy foods in public, and this is something he wants to dig his elbows into.

Cracking open a beer. If he’s sober - Pepsi.

…

Leon is a host of oddball information. A part of it comes from his frequent reading, and another part comes from his discovery of YouTube. Yes, he is the one clicking on all those ‘how it’s made’ videos.

Honestly, learning excites him.

Leon has a fantastic memory, and he can be somewhat of an intellectual. Many only realize his intelligence as a soldier, but it certainly extends beyond that. This isn’t a trait he shares with most. In his line of work, ‘brainiacs’ are often denoted as ‘naive’. It makes you more prone to being used or bullied. Street smarts offered a winning edge.

However, once he’s comfortable with you, he’ll spout off bits of information at random.

“Did you know - people who watched the last guillotine execution could still be alive today?”

Please please please be impressed. It makes him a tad giddy. Someone appreciates the things that have secretly excited him for years, and given that his real name is Leon Yap-Yap Kennedy, it was a bit lonely to keep to himself.

…

I don’t think Leon can tell the difference between rosemary/thyme and basil/mint.

Just smell it. Sherry texted. He sniffed.

“It smells like fucking leaves.”

…

When he’s happy about something simple, or when he’s impressed with something sassy he’s done (especially when it comes to you)… he does a little wag with his head and shoulders.

Very slight, barely noticeable.

But the shit eating grin gives it away.

…

The man is sassy. As a kid, his sass got him detention. I feel like on holidays, he was forced to go to church, and there were a few times his big mouth caused a bit of a stir…

*woman trips*

“Gotta cast out the demon of clumsy.”

…

Leon’s always had a fast metabolism. While he maintains muscle, it’s actually hard for him to bulk up. It takes a much stricter regime than it does for Redfield.

When he was in military training, that regime was made for him. However, on his own and with depression slowly eclipsing, he somewhat thinned out (hence Vendetta).

With you around, it’s definitely more achievable.

If he gains weight anywhere, it’s his hips and belly.

Abso-fuckin-lutely pinchable.

…

Leon's skin tone and hair color are easily affected by the sun. He toasts like a cookie in the oven. He doesn’t really sunburn, and he’s guilty on more than one occasion for not wearing sunscreen.

He’s certainly handsome, but the tan lines are mildly entertaining.

…

No flip-flops, no slippers. He doesn’t like to show his feet. He’ll pad around the house barefoot, but that’s because nobody is there. He won’t admit that he was more nervous about you seeing his feet for the first time than seeing his ass.

Boots or nothing. Sneakers are meant for exercise. He can barely stand loafers, and dress shoes press on his toenails and make them hurt.

…

Manspreads.

Is this a headcanon? We’ve seen the photos, Leon. There’s evidence for canon.

You’ve cracked your jokes, and now, he plays along. Anytime you sit beside him, he’ll crank that stance open and push you to the side.

…

Biggest home-cooked comfort meals are spaghetti and chicken noodle soup.

He’s figured out how to cook spaghetti.

“Yeah, because all it requires is a box and a can.”

Chicken noodle soup… not so much. Leon doesn’t like canned soup. He has enough of that slop in the rations. Once a recipe involves a cutting board and more than three seasonings, I think he knows he’s in over his head. He can do it. He just doesn’t want to.

divider: @saradika-graphics

Part 3

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: these are just my opinion! feel free to disagree or fact check me. will probably continue this as they come.

era: any but if specific i’ll mention it.

summary: sfw random leon headcanons

Leon Kennedy Headcanons (1)

As cool and handsome and heroic our dearest Kennedy can be, at the end of the day, he’s still a human. He has likes and dislikes, quirks and habits, redeeming and not so redeeming qualities.

Certainly, there is a personality, even if it’s buried beneath the rubble. He’s more than an agent, more than a survivor - he’s even more than a lover.

Sometimes, he’s just Leon.

•••

There is a nightly love affair with the peanut butter jar. Spoon-full before bed. A midnight snack while watching TV.

None of that real stuff. Give him the sugar-coated sludge. Creamy over chunky always. Loves peanut butter, but not a fan of peanut butter flavored things.

“Except Reese’s. Damn, those are good.”

Ate a whole bag on Halloween when you weren’t looking.

“Just lookin’ out for the kids, you know? Candy’s not good for ‘em.”

…

He could eat a sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Loves the stuff. It’s the food made for a Kennedy - uncomplicated and versatile. Don’t try to woo him with anything gourmet. Yes, he wants it stuffed, but he wants it stuffed with the basics - the things he knows he likes. Mayo. Mustard. Meat. Cheese. Lettuce. Onion. Pickle.

“No tomato. It makes the bread soggy.”

Of course, peanut butter and jelly is the best. Grape jelly all the way. Have you ever heard of a fluffernutter?

“Well, let me show you somethin’, sweetheart.”

And it’s all on that dull ass white bread.

…

Leon likes music. Sure, his tastes have changed over the years, but at the end of the day, it’s still a big part of his life.

Travel and long drives are a constant in his job. Plus, pinning him behind a desk is akin to strapping a straight jacket around him. Music eases the tension.

His preferences are definitely based on sound rather than lyrics, but every so often, something will catch his attention. Those types of songs get played regardless of the era.

His tastes are giving divorced dad vibes, but he’s got some heavy hitters. It’s a tad eclectic, but not eccentric. Mostly classic rock or alternative - Aerosmith, Boston, Cheap Trick, Heart, Nirvana... Maybe metal but not screamo - more like Iron Maiden and Megadeth. Pop only if it’s within Hurts’s style.

He’d like a live performance, so it’s not impossible to get him to go to a concert. No, he’s not jumping around, and he still has an eye on the exits. Nonetheless, his foot is tapping and every so often he smiles.

…

Favorite fast food would be Wendy’s. He doesn’t care what they say about the chili - it’s good. You can’t go wrong with a Dave’s Double and fries. Dip the fries in the chili and pair it with a chocolate frosty.

But, his favorite junk food would be pizza. It’s been that way since he was a teenager. For any job-well-done, he rewards himself with a pepperoni pizza. If he feels bougie, he’ll add sausage.

Yes, he’s eating the whole thing. No, he doesn’t regret it. Since he still has to watch his health, it’s not an everyday expenditure, so he’s fully embracing the moment.

…

Leon didn’t find coffee, coffee found Leon.

It wasn’t an interest until his 20s. Long days and late nights drove him to the fix. He doesn’t like being dependent on it, but it’s a never-ending cycle that he’s tired of fighting.

Plus, he does like the taste. He can take it plain or a bit of cream and sugar. He’s not into iced coffee, nor does he understand the concept of frappes.

“It’s a milkshake. Don’t kid yourself.”

He typically brings his own coffee, but if he buys it outside, it’s from Dunkin’.

“They’re the only ones that do it right.”

…

Favorite color - blue.

Second favorite color - yellow.

Least favorite color - orange.

Silver over gold.

Stars over hearts.

…

Leon does have a sweet tooth. It’s not a constant issue, but when he gets a craving, it hits hard and fast (recall the bag of Reese’s…).

Pancakes are a frequent craving. Butter, syrup, and lots of it. Although he has no particular memory tied to pancakes, there’s something about eating them on a Sunday morning that makes him feel homesick.

Sometimes, he’ll make them on his own, and the process involves a lot of licking of the spoon. However, most of the time he’ll just hit up the local diner.

Donuts are second top-tier craving. No, the irony involving law enforcement and donuts isn’t lost on him, and he’s proud to be a part of that statistic. (He thinks it’s corny. We know the man can be a cornball.) He’ll eat any kind of donut, but he does find it mildly sacrilegious to fill a Boston Creme with whipped cream instead of custard.

…

Doesn’t like bees. Not allergic. Just doesn’t like the way they hover around you. He especially dislikes the big carpenter bees that buzz like a vacuum cleaner.

He doesn’t like to kill them and knows the dangers of swatting at them. I think that’s a part of the reason he doesn’t like them. They’re annoying, but you can’t do anything about it.

“Little bastards…” he’ll gripe, ducking away from the noise.

…

Leon is a reader, which includes audio books.

He rarely has time to actually participate in his interests, but there’s enough downtime to read about them.

“You’d be surprised how much waiting you do in my job.”

Waiting for appointments, waiting for meetings, waiting for travel…

If he can’t bring a book, he’ll read on his phone. He’s not a social media person, but he likes the convenience of having information at his fingertips.

Big on non-fiction. Cars, guns, sports, travel, culture… He tries to avoid politics, but still stays on top of it for work.

The one case where he’ll read fiction is comic books. Ever wondered where Leon got his heroic tendencies and one-liners? As a kid, he liked Archie comics and Spider-Man. While he doesn’t read them as much now, every so often, you’ll see him crack into his old collection or peruse the isles at the store.

…

Meat eater. He doesn’t care if you don’t eat meat, but don’t make him not eat meat.

He needs protein with every meal. Yes, bologna is a protein. He will give you a loving side-eye if your dinner report is buttered noodles with parmesan.

He likes beef and chicken equally, but doesn’t often eat pork. He’s also more picky when it comes to seafood, but does enjoy shrimp and cod.

divider: @saradika-graphics

Part 2

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: this is the final part! i have other ideas to write about but lmk if you have suggestions. i appreciate everyone who read this!

pairing: post-vendetta/pre-di leon x fem!reader

summary: part 5 (final) of this

Drunk Nights and Sober Promises (5)

Leon was certainly no stranger to women, as women rarely wished to be a stranger to him. However, none of the encounters occurred under his own roof - that he ensured - not merely to prevent sentimentality but also for the sake of pragmatics.

Again, his job didn’t afford the luxury of privacy, not excluding romance. One mistaken encounter could make him the clown of the office, or worse, one wayward meet up could expose a nation.

The relationships were of mutual expendability. He made that clear and wasn’t offended by rejection, but he was surprised at the ease with which most of his partners accepted that he would be hard to have - how easy it seemed for some to walk away.

It wasn’t an ideal lifestyle for the self-proclaimed one-woman man. Nonetheless, it was a necessity. He couldn’t risk a threat on his people - not again.

But it’s not as if he never offered more. Indeed, there were a few that he believed were well worth the risk.

It took decades for the reverse of that sentiment to hold true.

Tonight, as much as Leon wants you, wants to repay you tenfold and never leave you with want - now isn’t the time. He remains content with what you’ve shared today, because truly, it is a first.

The day is nonetheless well-spent lounging on the couch, watching television, or napping away the lingering exhaustion. Leon doesn’t need to be told about the state of his fridge. The reason you made eggs and toast is because that’s all he had, so he orders you both an array of take-out to share.

At some point, you wake up with the television humming in the background. He’s completely incapacitated beside you on the couch with a cheek smushed into a pillow. It puckers his lips perfectly to kiss, but with the way he tossed and turned to get to this state, you dare not disturb his peace.

Instead, your attention is drawn towards the windows. It’s dusk. The sky is flushed in its grand transition, and the sleepy city is just starting to awake. When you first arrived, the view captured you immediately, but you refused the moment to surrender to it.

Mesmerized, you sit on the floor at the foot of the glass panels, watching as the lights flicker alive in both heaven and below. You’re so transfixed that you don’t notice him behind you. Leon scoops you into his arms as he sits, sliding you into his lap with long legs beside you.

“Do you like the view?” he asks, his voice still raw with sleep. You cock your head thoughtfully, leaning against his chest.

“It’s one of those things that I feel like I could stare at forever and never get sick of it.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “glad you think so, too.”

A soft sigh leaves you as his affections traverse down your neck and shoulders. Your fingers smooth down his forearms and intertwine with his. Stilled lips linger on the space behind your ear.

“Can I ask you a question?” he whispers.

“Go for it.”

He kisses your pulse.

“Why me?”

“Well,” you think for a moment, “I could ask you the same thing. Why me? You can’t tell me you weren’t beating ‘em off with a stick, cutie-pie.”

Glancing up, you notice a rosey hue on the tip of his nose. You pinch his cheek.

“You make things make sense,” he answers plainly, leaning his face into your hand. “Everything seems like it has a point. I don’t know how to explain it.

“Kind of like a star,” he continues after a pause. “Can you imagine a night sky without one? You know there’s clouds when you can’t see one. Like that.”

You rub his cheekbone with your thumb. The way Leon looks at you now is nothing like the worn-out weapon he’s been made to be, nothing like the stoic bachelor in an empty home. He’s almost puppyish. Guileless. It’s the same innocent curiosity that a child’s eye holds.

Your heart falls sideways.

“What’s your middle name stand for? Smooth talker?” Despite your jest, you prop yourself up to offer a long, lingering kiss. “Seriously, though, that means a lot.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” he reminds you, smiling against your lips.

“I already told you. I’m more afraid of losing you than anything you could throw at me.”

Leon sobers, withdrawing just a hair. “You know my job, love.”

“I don’t mean that kind of loss. Everything has an end, but as they say - it’s better to love than never love at all.”

You peck his cheek, nestling into him again and returning your gaze to the scenery. He rests his chin on the top of your head. In time, the words come to you.

“What I mean is: it’s easy to fall in love. It’s hard to find someone who’s worthy of giving your love to. You don’t let that kind of thing go.”

A short huff tickles the back of your neck. “You sure your middle name isn’t smooth talker?”

You grin up at him. “Seems like you got a lifetime of competition, Kennedy.”

“It won’t be hard to keep up.”

“Is that a threat?” You tease, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“No,” he answers as his arms hold you tighter. “It’s a promise.”

divider: @saradika-graphics

[amaranth-incognito]

a/n: sorry this took so long! i was working overtime to not make this ooc… critiques and comments are always welcome! 🙇🏻‍♀️

pairing: post-vendetta/pre-di leon x fem!reader

summary: part 4 of this

Drunk Nights and Sober Promises (4)

At any rate, you’re grateful for the small bag of toiletries you keep in your car: travel lotion, deodorant, extra underwear - a product of that one time Mother Nature struck hard and early.

“It only takes once to learn…” You open the glass door and size-up the shower. It’s a nice bathroom. In fact, it’s a spectacular bathroom. “What are you bathing in here? An elephant?”

Whatever Leon lacks in decor, he apparently makes up for in grooming. Shampoo, conditioner, oils…

“Not a single 2-in-1 in sight.” You whistle, raising your brows at the brands on the shelves.

In the least, you won’t be spending your first night with your boyfriend as a hot mess.

***

“Fuck, I’m a mess.”

Leon scowls at the reflection glaring back at him. The bags under his eyes make him look bruised, and his scruffed hair is nothing short of degenerate.

He flicks the light off and shucks off his clothes.

When home, it’s not uncommon for Leon to shower in the dark. Sometimes, sensory deprivation is the only thing to appease a wrung-out system. He turns on the water and doesn’t wait for it to warm. As the chilling rain cascades over him, the tension behind his eyes eases.

Leon swore this would never happen again. Not after the last time. Technically, it wasn’t Chris who found him. It was Claire.

“Really, Leon? Are we not enough that you have to keep crawling back to this?”

She was hurt, rightfully so, and a hurt Claire enraged Chris more than anything. That’s why the older Redfield took it upon himself to deal with it.

“So, you finally decided, huh?” The force of his throw shattered the bottle into the trash. “This is what you want, Leon?”

The siblings hardly had a chance to meet, and Leon doubted whether they enjoyed this reunion. The incident had put him on the shit list for months. However, while Chris’s temper often rose higher and hotter, it eventually simmered out. Leon suspected the air had yet to fully clear with Claire. Sure, they’ve spoken but not truly, not like before. The look she wore should have been enough to sober him well into the afterlife. Decades of trust nearly shattered within a night.

“You fucking idiot!” He pounds a fist into the wall, bracing himself against the tile, tired of things breaking in his hands.

***

“Ow!” you gasp, sucking on the tip of your finger. The egg shell swirls playfully in the pan, taunting you.

A huff of air blows against your neck - you startle. A hand shoots around your body, skillfully plucking the debris from the hot skillet.

“Careful!” you scold. Leon’s wearing a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair is in his eyes, limp and damp and smelling of rustic cedar. He flicks the speck of shell into the sink.

“I’m lucky if I still have fingerprints left to burn.”

“Well, let’s aim to keep whatever you got.” The tips of your fingers shift the hair away from those pretty blues.

He shirks you off with a huff and saunters over to the raised chairs by the kitchen aisle. Clearly, he still needs space, but unlike last time, the necessity seems forced. As you work, you sense his gaze lingering on you, but anytime you turn, his focus is conveniently misplaced.

Sitting beside him, you slide a plate over - a simple eggs and toast. Unfortunately, Leon’s kitchen isn’t as well-stocked as his bathroom. His fingers flick towards the fork before scrunching into a fist; and his lips part momentarily, only to seal into a tight line.

“I …” His brows weigh heavy. “I think it’s best if we broke up.”

The air stills as thick as iron. Slowly, you nod. After coming to terms with Leon’s reality, you surmised this to be his next course of action. You spent the shower rehearsing the moment, but it seems no amount of preparation could make it sting any less.

Leon lost control, and in these cases, he’s experienced every form of repercussion except grace. Of course, he would run, because it was better to lose a fight than to lose the war. You only hope that you can convince him that he’s not alone on the frontlines.

“I made my choice,” you explain calmly. “You realize that’s what love is, right? It’s a risk, a choice. It’s a risk to keep choosing.”

Leon pushes himself away from the table only to find you in his path. His seat hits the chair as you stand between his legs. The breath leaves his lungs in genuine shock, as if he didn’t expect you to double-down.

“I’m not really worth the risk of staying,” he grits, bitter and curt. “I’m sure you got the fucking hint.”

You don't fault his spite. A part of you burns yourself when you think of those who’ve made him accustomed to impermanence. With a hand on either side, Leon motions to move you. You dig your heels into the ground, forcing him to stop unless he’s willing to hurt you. He pauses.

“I think you’re worth the risk,” you press. “I’m not afraid of it or you.”

He tries to move you again, but you lock your knees and grip his legs to hold steady. Now, he meets your gaze. Certainly, you see fear in his eyes, perhaps even a bit of anger. However, there is also something small, something glimmering that catches on the light and gathers against his lashes. You soften, brushing your knuckles against his cheek.

“You risked a lot to bring me into your space. Why can’t I do the same for you, handsome?”

Leon caves in on himself, head falling as he rakes in a shaky breath. Without the comforting numb, everything has finally sobered long enough to catch up to him. The adrenaline simply surges everything to the surface at a heart-racing rate. Leon’s fists clench painfully into your sides, but you pull him closer nonetheless.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he husks out.

One arm circles around his shoulders, while the other brings your hand to the nape of his neck. Sliding your fingers into his hair, you urge him closer to hide his face against you.

“I don’t need to know. You don’t need to tell me anything - about your job, about the reasons you drink. Nothing, Leon. I’m not afraid. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.”

Something chokes out of him when at last he melts into you. The collar of your shirt sticks to your skin as it dampens. For a long time you both stay there, allowing whatever finally feels safe enough to spill over. You pay no attention to them, simply allowing them to be but not alone.

When he settles after one shaky exhale, his fingers uncurl from your shirt and find their proper place against your hips.

“What if you regret it?” The question is as fragile as glass. You kiss the top of his head, nuzzling your nose against him.

“No. The only thing I’ve ever regretted - even after all this - is that it took me this long to find you.”

divider: @saradika-graphics

Part 5

[amaranth-incognito]

I promise I haven’t gone on hiatus… I’m writing part 4 of Drunk Nights and Sober Promises… I’m also just trying to graduate in a week 😭

Coming soon!

[redrubywine]

infinite darkness & death island Leon is my biggest crush forever