𝜗ৎ laura ── 18 ── she 𝜗ৎ
- quite new here on tumblr
- basic DNI (racists, homophobes, trump supporters, etc.)
- gathering the courage to post some arts I do
- love my bf
I dislike how the fandom is calling Leon an "old man". Dude is 49; that's not old! Even if he was 51 like ppl originally thought he'd still would not be old. 70+ is old
Stop being mean to him. His back hurts due to the backflips not his age 🤣
Leon Kennedy X Reader | no Umbrella AU
tags: RE2 Leon; childhood friends to lovers; hurt/comfort; fluff; mutual pining
synopsis: eight years after leaving RC, you come back for college and for a fresh start you're not sure if you deserve. but some feelings do not disappear with distance nor with time. and some letters are just waiting to be opened.
a/n: MY FIRST FIC OMGGG so nervous. ok I know it's short but I really hope u guys like it and I'M SO SORRY if I wrote anything wrong cuz english it's not my first language but i really tried 😞🤍
And here I am. Raccoon City. It looks exactly the same — like it’s been waiting.
I was thirteen when my dad got a job in another state and I had to say goodbye to everything I knew.
Including him.
I told myself I wouldn’t come back. But after high school, after years of applications and rejections and pretending I didn’t miss this place, the only acceptance letter that mattered brought me right back here.
Back to my roots.
I found a part-time job at a small café near campus. It’s exhausting — classes in the morning, work at night — but I need the money. I keept my routine quiet. Shielded.
I avoid parties. I avoid bars. I avoid the streets we used to walk together.
Because I know if I run into that one boy that was my friend since kindergarten, I won’t know what to say.
And I know I will run into him eventually. I just didn’t expect it to happen at 8:57 p.m., with the café lights already dimmed and the chairs half-stacked on the tables.
I’m wiping down the counter when the bell above the door rings. “We’re closing—” I say, tired, without looking up.
And then I do.
It was always his dream to be a cop.
The badge. The uniform.
Leon.
I freeze. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t see th—” he stops when his eyes meet mine. “...You?”
He looks older. Broader shoulders. A uniform I’ve only ever seen on other people.
But his eyes are the same.
He says my name like it hasn’t been eight years.
“You’re back.”
A thousand questions crash through my mind. I’m sure it’s the same for him.
His eyes drop to the floor, his hand running through his blonde hair.
Like he always does when he’s thinking.
After everything racing through my head, all I manage is—
“H-Hey… Leon.” Damn it!
For a moment, the only sound is the traffic outside, then he breaks it. “How have you been? I-I mean, it’s been a while.” His cheeks flush, and he barely looks up at me, his gaze flickers from the lamp to the window.
“Yeah, um… I’m good. Kinda stressed, I guess. College and stuff.” I mumble the last part. He stiffens slightly, like the word college caught him off guard. “Oh. Yeah, I can imagine.”
He scratches the back of his neck, almost shy. “When did you get back?”
“A few weeks.”
“Oh.”
My hands won’t stop shaking.
“Sooo… a cop, huh? I guess dreams really do come true.” I give him a nostalgic smile. “Yeah. Things are different now. Since you left.”
I search for the words, but they won’t come. I freeze again.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?” He finally looks at me.
“I—I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to leave you. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” His voice is quiet. Not cold. Just… tired. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”
That almost makes it worse.
He exhales slowly, jaw tightening for a second. “I just… thought maybe you’d write.”
My stomach drops.
“Even once.”
Tears start to well in my eyes as he gets close to me. Only a step away, yet impossibly far.
“Leon, I was scared,” I admit. “I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. Y-You seemed so happy with your— your new friends. Right before I left.”
“What? But—” He tries to say something, but I’m already crying.
“I wasn’t happy!” he says, more firmly this time.
I blink through the tears.
He runs a hand through his hair again, frustrated — not at me. At himself.
“When you told me you were leaving, I just… I didn’t know what to do.” He swallows. “So I started hanging out with other people. A lot.”
A humorless laugh escapes him. “I thought if I kept myself busy, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”
His eyes finally meet mine.
“It didn’t work,” he confesses and I try to swallow my sobs. “I kept checking the mailbox for weeks,” he adds quietly. “I thought maybe you’d write.”
“I thought you didn’t need me anymore,” I admit. “I didn’t write because I thought you were— I don’t know. Better. Without me. And I liked you. I thought you didn’t. And I couldn’t bear to find out I was right—”
“You liked me?”
“Of course I did. I just… figured you’d never look at your childhood best friend like that.”
He lets out a breath — almost a disbelieving one. “Didn’t need you?” He takes a step closer. Not hesitant this time.
“You were the only thing that ever felt… steady.”
My heart stutters.
“When you left, it wasn’t that I didn’t need you.” His voice lowers. “It’s that I didn’t know how to exist without you.”
He swallows.
“There hasn’t been a single day I didn’t think about you.” Softer now — almost breaking. “Not one.”
The words settle between us, heavy and fragile at the same time. My breathing falters.
He’s close now. Close enough that I can see the faint scar near his chin, the one he got when we were twelve.
Close enough that I remember everything.
“Leon…” I whisper, but it comes out barely audible.
His hand lifts — slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.
I don’t.
His fingers brush against my cheek, hesitant at first, as if he’s not sure I’m real. “I never stopped,” he says quietly. My heart pounds against my ribs. “Liking you. Missing you. Wanting you.”
His thumb lingers against my cheek, warm, grounding. I can feel my pulse everywhere — in my throat, in my fingertips, in the tiny space between us.
If I don’t do this now, I never will.
So I close the distance.
My lips brush his at first — tentative, almost a question. He freezes for half a second. Then his hand slides to the back of my neck, and he kisses me back. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just years of unsaid things finally finding a way out.
It deepens slowly, like we’re both afraid it might disappear if we move too fast. And when he pulls me closer, I realize he’s shaking just as much as I am.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. He brushes his thumb under my eye.
We laugh quietly, like we could’ve become total strangers — and yet here we are.
“It feels like you never left,” he says softly. “I missed you so much, I—” He stops himself, then lowers his voice playfully. “Do you remember those letters you used to find in your locker in fourth grade?”
I blink. “Yeah? Oh my God — don’t tell me it was you.”
He nods, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I still have some I never sent. They’re in my apartment. Wanna see them?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Well, of course. We have like eight years to catch up.”
He laughs.
Leon closes his sky-blue eyes for a moment, then looks back at me, serious now.
hey guys! I'm working on my next Leon fanfic but I'm kind of stuck on a naughty part (I've never written smut before). although, don't worry, it's getting good!! 😈😈 I just don't know exactly how to progress after a certain point...
any tips or advice? TELL ME WHAT U GUYS LIKE SEEING ON SMUTS PLSSS!!
lil spoiler
Leon Kennedy X Reader | no Umbrella AU
tags: RE2 Leon; childhood friends to lovers; hurt/comfort; fluff; mutual pining
synopsis: eight years after leaving RC, you come back for college and for a fresh start you're not sure if you deserve. but some feelings do not disappear with distance nor with time. and some letters are just waiting to be opened.
a/n: MY FIRST FIC OMGGG so nervous. ok I know it's short but I really hope u guys like it and I'M SO SORRY if I wrote anything wrong cuz english it's not my first language but i really tried 😞🤍
And here I am. Raccoon City. It looks exactly the same — like it’s been waiting.
I was thirteen when my dad got a job in another state and I had to say goodbye to everything I knew.
Including him.
I told myself I wouldn’t come back. But after high school, after years of applications and rejections and pretending I didn’t miss this place, the only acceptance letter that mattered brought me right back here.
Back to my roots.
I found a part-time job at a small café near campus. It’s exhausting — classes in the morning, work at night — but I need the money. I keept my routine quiet. Shielded.
I avoid parties. I avoid bars. I avoid the streets we used to walk together.
Because I know if I run into that one boy that was my friend since kindergarten, I won’t know what to say.
And I know I will run into him eventually. I just didn’t expect it to happen at 8:57 p.m., with the café lights already dimmed and the chairs half-stacked on the tables.
I’m wiping down the counter when the bell above the door rings. “We’re closing—” I say, tired, without looking up.
And then I do.
It was always his dream to be a cop.
The badge. The uniform.
Leon.
I freeze. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t see th—” he stops when his eyes meet mine. “...You?”
He looks older. Broader shoulders. A uniform I’ve only ever seen on other people.
But his eyes are the same.
He says my name like it hasn’t been eight years.
“You’re back.”
A thousand questions crash through my mind. I’m sure it’s the same for him.
His eyes drop to the floor, his hand running through his blonde hair.
Like he always does when he’s thinking.
After everything racing through my head, all I manage is—
“H-Hey… Leon.” Damn it!
For a moment, the only sound is the traffic outside, then he breaks it. “How have you been? I-I mean, it’s been a while.” His cheeks flush, and he barely looks up at me, his gaze flickers from the lamp to the window.
“Yeah, um… I’m good. Kinda stressed, I guess. College and stuff.” I mumble the last part. He stiffens slightly, like the word college caught him off guard. “Oh. Yeah, I can imagine.”
He scratches the back of his neck, almost shy. “When did you get back?”
“A few weeks.”
“Oh.”
My hands won’t stop shaking.
“Sooo… a cop, huh? I guess dreams really do come true.” I give him a nostalgic smile. “Yeah. Things are different now. Since you left.”
I search for the words, but they won’t come. I freeze again.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?” He finally looks at me.
“I—I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to leave you. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” His voice is quiet. Not cold. Just… tired. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”
That almost makes it worse.
He exhales slowly, jaw tightening for a second. “I just… thought maybe you’d write.”
My stomach drops.
“Even once.”
Tears start to well in my eyes as he gets close to me. Only a step away, yet impossibly far.
“Leon, I was scared,” I admit. “I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. Y-You seemed so happy with your— your new friends. Right before I left.”
“What? But—” He tries to say something, but I’m already crying.
“I wasn’t happy!” he says, more firmly this time.
I blink through the tears.
He runs a hand through his hair again, frustrated — not at me. At himself.
“When you told me you were leaving, I just… I didn’t know what to do.” He swallows. “So I started hanging out with other people. A lot.”
A humorless laugh escapes him. “I thought if I kept myself busy, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”
His eyes finally meet mine.
“It didn’t work,” he confesses and I try to swallow my sobs. “I kept checking the mailbox for weeks,” he adds quietly. “I thought maybe you’d write.”
“I thought you didn’t need me anymore,” I admit. “I didn’t write because I thought you were— I don’t know. Better. Without me. And I liked you. I thought you didn’t. And I couldn’t bear to find out I was right—”
“You liked me?”
“Of course I did. I just… figured you’d never look at your childhood best friend like that.”
He lets out a breath — almost a disbelieving one. “Didn’t need you?” He takes a step closer. Not hesitant this time.
“You were the only thing that ever felt… steady.”
My heart stutters.
“When you left, it wasn’t that I didn’t need you.” His voice lowers. “It’s that I didn’t know how to exist without you.”
He swallows.
“There hasn’t been a single day I didn’t think about you.” Softer now — almost breaking. “Not one.”
The words settle between us, heavy and fragile at the same time. My breathing falters.
He’s close now. Close enough that I can see the faint scar near his chin, the one he got when we were twelve.
Close enough that I remember everything.
“Leon…” I whisper, but it comes out barely audible.
His hand lifts — slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.
I don’t.
His fingers brush against my cheek, hesitant at first, as if he’s not sure I’m real. “I never stopped,” he says quietly. My heart pounds against my ribs. “Liking you. Missing you. Wanting you.”
His thumb lingers against my cheek, warm, grounding. I can feel my pulse everywhere — in my throat, in my fingertips, in the tiny space between us.
If I don’t do this now, I never will.
So I close the distance.
My lips brush his at first — tentative, almost a question. He freezes for half a second. Then his hand slides to the back of my neck, and he kisses me back. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just years of unsaid things finally finding a way out.
It deepens slowly, like we’re both afraid it might disappear if we move too fast. And when he pulls me closer, I realize he’s shaking just as much as I am.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. He brushes his thumb under my eye.
We laugh quietly, like we could’ve become total strangers — and yet here we are.
“It feels like you never left,” he says softly. “I missed you so much, I—” He stops himself, then lowers his voice playfully. “Do you remember those letters you used to find in your locker in fourth grade?”
I blink. “Yeah? Oh my God — don’t tell me it was you.”
He nods, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I still have some I never sent. They’re in my apartment. Wanna see them?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Well, of course. We have like eight years to catch up.”
He laughs.
Leon closes his sky-blue eyes for a moment, then looks back at me, serious now.
should I write stuff in english even though it isn't my first language?
yeah I know the obvious answer is probably "of course", but I'm still kinda insecure about it...
I've always had good grades in english at school but still I've baerly talked to other people who speak english natively or been to a county that has english as it's main language yet. besides, sometimes I don't quite understand how to use some expressions or certain gramatical rules that I should know for writting
anyway, if anyone has any opinion or tip, please let me know!
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