you can call me elle. this is my little creative mess mostly — short stories, rough drafts, deleted scenes, headcanons, and 2am "what if" spirals. the polished stuff lives on my ao3.
✦ please read my rules & guidelines before diving in or making a request. this is an 18+ only space. minors dni.
The problem with being a Creative Person is I want to create all the things. I want to draw a little drawing. I want to write a fic. I want to write a book. I want to paint with watercolors. I want to paint with oil paints. I want to animate. I want to make something out of clay. I want to sew a dress. I want to play a song on the ukulele. I want to play a song on the cello. I want to play a song on the harp. I want to write a song. I want to write a musical. I want to make a webcomic. I want to make a video game.
I want to do EVERYTHING but I don’t have the TIME or MONEY or MOTIVATION
i know it's been a little quiet here lately. i haven't written or posted much in a while, mostly because work has been eating me alive and i've been dealing with some pretty intense burnout, which unfortunately took my creativity hostage.
things are slowly moving in a better direction and i'm hoping i can start finding my way back to writing soon.
i miss it a lot.
so this is mostly just a little “i'm still here” update. no promises, just me poking my head out of the cave and hoping the words start coming back.
also, if there's anything you'd like to see from me (prompts, headcanons, drabble ideas, anything like that) feel free to send it in. i can't promise i'll write everything right away but i'd love a few little sparks to play with.
Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):
“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.
“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.
“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.
“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”
“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”
“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.
i said on my latency window post i was tempted to write the morning-after scene and... well, i did it!
here's your little tumblr-exclusive bonus scene (that was supposed to be only 800 words max but i got possessed before i could stop) <3
✦ access granted ✦
leon s. kennedy x reader
18+
domestic fluff, workplace flirting, post-smut softness, leon as a yearning man
(just a reminder that this is part 2 of latency window. i suggest you read that first)
───────────── ✦ ─────────────
You wake as morning light spills across your face.
After processing reality just enough to recognize your room, you try to roll over and check the digital clock on your nightstand.
The first thing that hit you was the ache in your muscles, followed by a weight draped over your waist, keeping you in place.
Then the warmth pressed against your back—and the sudden recall that you hadn’t gone to bed alone last night.
Fragments flash through your mind before you can stop them.
Rough hands roaming over your body. A gravelly voice calling your name against your skin. The overwhelming feeling of letting go completely beneath him.
You could’ve almost convinced yourself it had all been some absurd dream, if not for the fact that Leon was still there when you finally rolled over, peacefully asleep in your bed.
His expression was softened—a stark contrast to the sharp composure he carried through the office—and his bare chest still bore the faded scars you’d traced so earnestly the night before.
You could’ve easily stared at him for the rest of the morning.
But the thought died the second your eyes caught the glowing numbers on the clock behind him.
Your stomach dropped.
You suddenly remembered you had a job. And you were late.
“Shit,” you whispered.
You shoved the blankets aside and forced yourself upright at the edge of the bed. The movement immediately punished you for it, soreness flashing sharply through your body as your feet hit the floor.
Your legs nearly gave out beneath you.
Apparently, sleeping with Leon Kennedy had roughly the same physical impact as two days of your strength training.
You dropped back onto the mattress with a quiet groan.
“Hey.”
Leon’s voice came from behind you, rough with sleep.
“What’s got you panicking this early in the morning?”
You glanced over your shoulder to find him squinting against the sunlight spilling across the bed.
Fuck.
He was unfairly handsome even this early in the morning.
“I need to get ready or I’ll miss the bus,” you muttered, bracing yourself for another attempt at standing.
Leon blinked at you slowly.
“The fuck are you talking about?” he asked. “We’re taking my car.”
Before you could push yourself up again, a warm hand closed around your arm and tugged you backward.
You barely had time to react before Leon pulled you back under the covers, guiding you closer until you were lying facing him again.
One of his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you close enough that your knees brushed beneath the sheets.
The same hands that had held you down so relentlessly only hours earlier now brushed slowly against your skin.
“Stay with me for five more minutes,” Leon murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
Up close like this, you could feel the steady warmth radiating from him, the lazy weight of his arm around you, the slow rhythm of his breathing drifting across your skin.
How the hell were you supposed to say no to that?
────────────────────────────
Sleeping in for a few more minutes had been enough to completely derail your morning schedule. But it felt nicer than your usual rush to get ready and go to the bus stop.
Getting your own car was starting to sound less like a luxury and more like a survival strategy.
Leon insisted on helping while you cooked breakfast, his large frame making your already small kitchen feel impossibly smaller as he moved around behind you.
You were hyperaware of him everywhere.
The quiet sound of cabinets opening. The brush of his arm against yours as he reached past you for plates. The way he searched through your kitchen like he already knew his way around it.
It should’ve felt strange having another person in your apartment like this.
Instead, it felt dangerously easy.
“Mugs?” Leon asked while you stood at the stove, pushing scrambled eggs around the pan.
“Dishwasher.”
He followed your instruction, grabbing two mugs from the dishwasher before setting them beside the toaster along with the plates.
You moved beside him with the pan in hand, close enough for your hip to brush his as you distributed the eggs between the plates.
“You can fill only half of mine,” you said as he grabbed the coffee jug. “I’m putting cream.”
Leon glanced at you.
“Huh.”
You looked up immediately. “What?”
Leon poured the coffee carefully before sliding your mug toward you.
“You always drink your coffee black.”
The observation caught you off guard.
“You noticed that?”
Leon gave you a look over the rim of his mug.
“You think I wouldn’t notice how the woman I’ve been obsessing over drinks her coffee?”
Your brain stopped functioning. Completely.
Leon, apparently unaware he’d just detonated a live grenade directly into your nervous system, took a sip of his coffee.
You cleared your throat quickly and turned back toward the counter before he could see your flushed face.
“There’s no cream at the agency,” you muttered. “And getting coffee at work is already annoying enough.”
Leon frowned slightly. “So you started drinking it black because it was more convenient?”
You shrugged, suddenly very focused on arranging toast onto the plates.
“It saves time.”
A quiet pause followed as Leon studied you again.
“You optimize your coffee,” he said finally, sounding genuinely intrigued.
“I optimize everything.”
“I know.”
The way he said it made your stomach flip embarrassingly hard.
Leon reached past you for the plates, his arm brushing yours again as he carried them toward the table.
“You know,” he said casually, “normal people usually just buy the coffee they actually like.”
You narrowed your eyes at him as you grabbed the silverware and followed.
He pulled out one of the chairs and dropped into it comfortably, like he belonged in your apartment just as much as you did.
“Normal people also don’t have to account for the statistical probability of having to escape collapsing buildings every other mission,” you stated, sitting down at the table.
Leon paused mid-sip.
“You calculated that?”
“I have charts.”
A beat of silence passed.
“That’s concerning,” Leon muttered.
“You’re the one going after the potentially exploding ones.”
“That only happened a few times.”
You stared at him flatly.
“Leon.”
He sighed dramatically, reaching for his coffee again.
“Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s happened more frequently than normal.”
A laugh escaped you, warm and unrestrained enough to make Leon glance up immediately.
And then he was looking at you again with a softness that made your chest feel strangely tight.
Your smile faded slightly as you caught yourself staring back.
Leon leaned back in his chair.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he said casually, “and I’m gonna start thinking you’re into me.”
You blinked at him.
“I slept with you,” you deadpanned, shifting your eyes to stare at your plate. “I think we’re a little past speculation.”
Leon nearly choked on his coffee. The startled sound that escaped him made you look up again.
He was grinning, looking genuinely amused.
“Yeah,” Leon said easily. “But now you’re looking at me without actively planning an escape route.”
He took another sip of coffee, gaze drifting back to you over the rim of his mug.
“Makes me wonder if you’d think about keeping me around.”
────────────────────────────
The ride to the agency was quiet.
But unlike every other silent drive you’d shared with Leon, this one felt easy. Comfortable.
Your fragile little bubble lasted right up until the moment you stepped inside the agency building.
The familiar sounds hit immediately—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, overlapping conversations buzzing beneath fluorescent lights.
Your brain instinctively tried to force itself back into professional mode. It wasn’t working particularly well.
You adjusted the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder as you walked beside Leon toward the elevators, mentally preparing yourself for an entire day of avoiding eye contact with him despite having very recently had his tongue—
Nope.
Absolutely not.
The elevator doors slid shut behind the two of you.
Your body immediately tensed.
The thoughts struck you all at once:
Someone must’ve noticed you arrived together.
Or… did everyone—somehow—know?
Maybe the agency had secretly developed mind-reading technology overnight exclusively to see your vivid flashbacks of Leon between your thighs.
Your jaw clenched automatically.
Beside you, Leon glanced down and, without hesitation, rested a hand against your waist.
The sudden contact made you jump slightly. But almost immediately, the warmth of his hand grounded you back to reality.
Your shoulders slowly loosened.
He simply faced forward again, broad frame relaxed beside yours as the elevator continued its slow climb upward.
He seemed completely composed and unaffected.
“You’re spiraling again,” he said casually.
You stared at the side of his face in disbelief.
“I’m conducting a risk assessment.”
Leon hummed thoughtfully.
“Should I be worried?”
You looked at him flatly. “Maybe.”
That finally pulled a quiet laugh from him. Low. Amused.
Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing to help your ability to think clearly around him.
“Hey!”
One of the analysts from your team approached quickly as you and Leon stepped out of the elevator.
“Command moved up the debrief,” he said. “Ten minutes.”
You nodded automatically. “Copy that.”
Your brain was still halfway stuck in the elevator when you turned toward Leon.
“Leon, you can head up first,” you said absentmindedly. “I need to grab the material from my desk.”
The silence that followed was brief, but more than enough.
The corner of Leon’s mouth pulled upward ever so slightly.
And only then did your brain finally catch up with your mouth.
You had called him by his first name. At work.
Oh, God.
Your eyes immediately darted toward the analyst standing beside you, then toward the bullpen beyond him.
Nobody looked particularly alarmed, or had dropped dead from the horrifying breach of professionalism.
A few people were walking past normally. Phones still rang in the background. Someone laughed near the coffee station.
No visible signs that your career had just ended.
Which meant the only person fully aware of your catastrophic mistake was standing directly in front of you, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Sure, take your time,” he said easily. His expression couldn’t have been more knowing if he tried. “I’ll let the commander know.”
The slight smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth only made the heat crawling up your neck worse.
You turned immediately before anyone could witness the full extent of your inner humiliation, already making an escape toward your office.
Behind you, you heard Leon chuckle quietly to himself. Which, frankly, felt unnecessary.
────────────────────────────
The debrief went smoothly, as always. Nothing unusual happened.
At least, not externally.
Internally, however, you were hyperaware of absolutely everything in the room. Every glance. Every shift in tone.
Every time Leon spoke beside you.
By the time the meeting finally ended, your social battery was hanging by a thread.
You made a rapid escape straight for the server cave, fully prepared to spend the rest of the day hiding behind monitors and several layers of professional denial.
As if avoiding Leon for a few hours would somehow make the universe forget the fact that you’d slept with him.
But your plan collapsed.
Your glasses were missing. The blue-light glasses your eye doctor had explicitly warned you not to work without.
And you had a lot of work to do.
Anxiety immediately piled on top of the lingering chaos already occupying your nervous system.
You opened drawers harder than necessary, digging through cables, folders, and loose paperwork with growing frustration.
You checked the glasses case sitting beside your keyboard for what had to be the tenth time, as if they might suddenly materialize inside it out of pity.
Nothing.
“Looking for these?”
You startled so hard you nearly hit your knee against the desk, turning immediately toward the familiar voice.
Leon leaned casually against the doorframe, broad shoulders relaxed as he held your glasses loosely between two fingers.
Memory hit instantly.
His hands sliding the glasses from your face in the karaoke booth. The careful way he folded them before slipping them into his jacket pocket.
“Oh, thank God,” you breathed, stepping toward him.
Leon lifted the glasses slightly higher. “I think you mean ‘Thank Leon.’”
You stared at him flatly despite the relief.
“Give them back.”
“Mm.” Leon tilted his head thoughtfully. “Tempting.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he watched your growing frustration.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m pretty sure this counts as returning stolen property. There should be some kind of reward involved.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately. “You stole them.”
“You left them in my jacket.”
“You removed them from my face. And that counts as theft.”
A slow grin spread across his expression.
“That’s true.”
Heat crawled immediately back into your cheeks as memory flashed far too vividly for the middle of a workday.
Leon pushed himself off the doorframe, finally closing the distance between you.
“One kiss,” he said lightly.
Your pulse jumped.
Not because you didn’t want to. That was the problem.
You glanced automatically toward the hallway behind him before lowering your voice.
“We’re at work.”
Leon hummed softly, gaze drifting briefly toward your mouth.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “We are.”
The agreement somehow made it worse.
Leon remained standing close enough that you could feel his warmth through the thin space between you, your glasses still loose in his hand. He seemed to have all the time in the world to wait for you to decide.
With one final glance toward the hallway, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a quick kiss.
It was supposed to be brief and controlled. Professional-adjacent.
But Leon kissed you back.
His hand settled immediately against your nape, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened just enough to make your thoughts blur pleasantly at the edges.
By the time you two pulled away, slightly breathless, Leon looked entirely too satisfied with himself.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he murmured.
Instead of simply handing your glasses over, he carefully slid them back onto your face himself, his touch gentle and deliberate. Your breath caught softly as his fingers adjusted them.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, before your courage could fail you completely, you reached up and caught the front of Leon’s shirt lightly between your fingers.
His brows lifted slightly as you tugged him down closer. Close enough that your lips brushed the shell of his ear when you spoke.
“I’d like to do more than business with you later,” you whispered.
Leon went completely still. You felt the subtle shift in his breathing immediately.
And when he finally pulled back enough to look at you again, the warmth spreading slowly across his expression was devastating.
“Well,” he said quietly, one hand settling briefly against your waist before he stepped back toward the hallway, “that’s definitely getting me through the rest of the day.”
✦ this has been living in my head for way too long and i finally wrote it
latency window is my shot at a leon kennedy fic where the reader is an intelligence officer who is very good at her job… and absolutely terrible at handling him
it's basically:
hyper-competent woman x the one man who completely short-circuits her brain
years of avoidance
very questionable coping mechanisms
leon deciding he’s done being ignored
it's a nsfw one-shot (so what's on ao3 is the full thing… for now)
here's a little sample:
“Need a ride?”
You turned. Leon stood a few feet away, leaning against his car, half-shadowed under a streetlamp.
“I—it’s fine,” you said, already tapping your screen. “It’s just loading. Someone’ll take it.”
He pushed off the car and stepped closer. "You've been standing here shivering for ten minutes. Wait time in this area is thirty-five. Get in."
“Really, Kennedy, it’s fine.” You took a small step back as he closed the distance. Your pulse spiked. “I don’t want to bother you. You live the other way.”
“You’re not a bother. It’s a ride. Get in.”
“No, thank you. I’ll wait.”
You kept your eyes on your phone, clinging to it like a shield.
Leon went still. The silence stretched, heavy, filled only by distant traffic.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. Rougher.
“Why do you hate me?”
Your head snapped up.
For the first time since you’d met him, the untouchable aura was gone. His brow was drawn, expression open—confused, almost bruised.
“I—what?”
“You talk to everyone else,” he said, stepping closer. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you. “You laugh with the field ops. You brief command without blinking. But you can’t look at me. You’d rather freeze out here than sit in my car.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching yours. “What did I do?”
“I don’t hate you,” you said quickly. “I don’t. Really.”
Something shifted in his expression. Slow. Intent.
“Oh yeah?”
He stepped into your space, blocking out the cold, the light, and everything else.
“Then prove it,” he said softly. “Come get a drink with me. Right now.”
✦ read latency window on ao3
i’m very tempted to write a little morning-after scene and post it here on tumblr… you'll know when i do
i love in One Piece whenever a deeply traumatized character tries to convince luffy that they're unlovable and that he's better off leaving them behind and that he shouldn't waste his time on them and luffys reaction every time is the most blunt "what the fuck are you talking about? are you stupid?"
