I genuinely don’t think Leon would ever cheat on his partner. It’s not that he thinks he’s above making mistakes, but rather that loyalty is such a fundamental part of who he is. Once he chooses someone, he’s all in. He has never seemed like the type to chase outside attention or get caught up in a fleeting moment, especially when his job already keeps him away from the people he loves far more than he’d like.
For Leon, trust means everything, and throwing it away for something temporary goes against the kind of person he’s always tried to be. If a relationship ever reached a point where he felt unhappy or disconnected, the guilt of betraying someone would eat him alive long before anything could actually happen. Instead, he would either try to fix things or, as painful as it would be, have the difficult conversation to end the relationship before ever crossing that line.
He knows exactly what it feels like to lose people and carry heavy regrets, and I just can’t see him willingly becoming the reason someone he loves ends up hurt. He could never look his partner in the eyes and pretend everything was fine while keeping something like that from them. When Leon commits, he takes it seriously, and he protects the people he cares about from even his own worst impulses.
Hi! Are you a fanfic writer or is this just a blog for headcanons? Just stumbled upon your blog.
I write whatever people ask for. Most of the requests I’ve been getting are for headcanons and scenarios, so that’s mainly what’s on my blog right now. If there’s a fanfic or anything else you’d like to see, feel free to send one in.
What kind of habits or quirks do you think he has?
I honestly believe Leon is way more absent-minded than people assume. Not because he’s careless or forgetful when it actually matters, but because once he’s finally home, his brain is already somewhere else. He spends so much of his life having to be completely aware of everything around him that when he’s somewhere safe, he just mentally checks out. He’s the kind of person who’ll spend a few minutes looking for his keys before noticing they’ve been in his jacket pocket the entire time. He’ll walk into the kitchen, stand there for a second, and immediately forget why he went in there. Sometimes he’ll make himself a cup of coffee, set it down while he gets distracted by something else, then turn around a minute later wondering where he left it.
I feel like that same “I’ll do it in a second” brain fog is exactly why he’s awful at texting back. It’s never because he’s ignoring someone or doesn’t care. He’ll read a message, think about what he wants to say, maybe even type out a response in his head, and then put his phone down for “just a second.” Then two hours later, he’ll suddenly remember and send a completely random reply that makes no sense without context. Half the time, he’ll probably apologize afterward, even though he knows he’s done it a hundred times before.
When his brain is checked out like that, he has a habit of talking to himself without even noticing it. Not full conversations or anything, just little comments that slip out as he goes about his day. “Where’d I put that?” “Seriously?” “There it is.” If he drops something, it’ll usually earn a quiet curse under his breath before he picks it back up or a disappointed “of course.” He’ll mutter his way through whatever he’s doing, talking himself through the next step or complaining about an inanimate object that isn’t cooperating. It’s not even because he needs noise around him; it’s more like his thoughts just accidentally become words.
Even when his mind is on standby, his body is definitely still running on autopilot. For example, he has this habit of fixing things around him without thinking about it. If he’s waiting for coffee to brew, on the phone, or just standing around, he’ll start straightening things. He’ll line up the salt and pepper shakers, adjust a crooked picture frame, push a chair back under the table, or whatever catches his eye. It’s not because he’s secretly a neat freak or anything (he’s actually kind of average about keeping his place clean), but if something is slightly off, his hands usually fix it before his brain even catches up.
It’s probably that same autopilot that makes him put himself between other people and anything that seems even slightly threatening, even when there isn’t any real danger. He’ll switch places with someone so he’s closer to the street while walking, stand between a stranger and an argument that’s getting too heated, or naturally position himself where he can see the exits in a room. I don’t think he even notices he’s doing it most of the time, because to him it’s just common sense.
When it comes to his belongings, Leon is terrible at throwing things away, especially if they’re still technically useful. He’ll keep old chargers, random tools, spare buttons from clothes, receipts he probably doesn’t need, and things he insists he’ll “definitely use someday.” His reasoning is always that there’s no point in getting rid of something if it still works, even if he has a drawer full of completely unrelated things that haven’t been touched in years. He probably knows exactly where everything is in that mess, too, despite the fact that nobody else would ever be able to find anything.
That “if it still works, keep it” mindset extends to his more personal items, too. Leon seems like the kind of person who has a hard time replacing things he’s grown attached to, even when they’re worn out or no longer worth much. Whether it’s an old watch that runs a little slow, a jacket with a repaired tear, or a mug with a crack in it, he’ll tell himself he’ll replace them eventually, but somehow he never does. Part of him is practical enough to know they’re probably not worth much anymore, but another part of him sees every scratch, repair, and imperfection as proof that something can go through a lot and still have a purpose.
Leon is also far more sentimental than he lets on. He acts like he doesn’t care much about little things, but I can’t imagine him easily throwing away anything connected to someone he cares about. If someone gave him a gift, even something small, he’d be way more careful with it than he’d ever admit. He’d keep old photographs, handwritten notes, little souvenirs, or random objects that would mean nothing to anyone else. He wouldn’t talk about why he keeps certain things, but he’d remember exactly where they came from and the story behind them. To anyone else, it might just look like clutter, but to Leon, every little thing has a reason for still being there.
this is kind of a random one, but Id like to hear your take if you have one. do you head canon Leon as religious? †
I think Leon grew up around Christianity in some form. Maybe it was church on Sundays, saying grace before dinner, or simply living in a community where believing in God was the norm. Nothing about it was especially strict. Faith was just another part of everyday life. He believed in the basic idea of a higher power, but it wasn’t something he actively leaned on or thought about all that much. It was simply there, like it is for a lot of people, until his life became anything but ordinary.
When Raccoon City happened, his faith didn’t disappear so much as it became complicated. It’s hard to go through everything Leon has and come out the other side seeing the world the same way. He’s watched innocent people die for no reason, seen parasites take over minds, and witnessed bioweapons that blur the line between life and death. He’s seen things that completely shattered his understanding of the world, and because of that, I don’t think he could confidently say he believes in God anymore, but I also don’t think he could confidently say he doesn’t.
He isn’t angry at God, nor does he blame a higher power for his suffering. It’s more that he simply stopped expecting anyone else to step in. The idea that everything happens for a reason just doesn’t fit with the pointless loss he’s witnessed. Somewhere along the way, Leon accepted that if there is something out there, it isn’t going to intervene down here, and he made peace with that a long time ago.
Instead of waiting for someone else to save the day, Leon believes it’s up to people to save each other. That’s the choice he makes over and over again, throwing himself into hopeless situations for complete strangers because he simply can’t bring himself to walk away when someone needs help. It isn’t because he believes humanity is fundamentally good. If anything, the world has shown him just how cruel people can be. He keeps choosing compassion anyway. It’s his way of refusing to let that cruelty be the only thing left. If he stops caring, then everything he’s fought against wins. In a way, that’s become the closest thing he has to faith. Not faith in a higher power, but faith that one person’s choices can still matter.
That doesn’t mean he never questions things. There are nights when he lies awake wondering why so many innocent people had to die while he survived. Why he keeps making it home when people who deserved long, happy lives never got the chance. I don’t think he’s looking for an answer as much as he’s trying to make sense of something that never really will. Survivor’s guilt has a way of making people ask questions they’ll never be able to answer, and I don’t think Leon is any different. Even so, I think he still holds onto a faint hope that there’s something after this. I don’t know if he truly believes in heaven, but I think he wants to. Not for his own sake, but for the people who didn’t make it out. He wants to believe they found the peace they never got to have in life.
I imagine the only times Leon actually prays are the moments when he feels completely helpless. It isn’t because he’s suddenly found religion, but because reaching for something bigger than yourself is a very human thing to do when you’ve run out of options. I don’t see him saying a formal prayer or asking for anything for himself. It would just be a quiet, desperate thought in the back of his mind: “please let them make it. Please don’t let anyone else die.” Then he pushes it aside and keeps moving. He’d never admit he did it, and he’d probably feel a little foolish afterward, but he wouldn’t ever forget those moments.
Leon also has a lot of respect for other people’s beliefs. He’s seen too much suffering to judge the ways people find comfort. If someone prays before a mission, he’d give them the space to do it. If someone believes God is watching over them, he’d never mock them for it. Leon cares far more about how someone treats others than what they call themselves. If believing in God helps someone keep going, he’d be genuinely happy they have something to hold onto, even if he isn’t sure he shares that same faith.
If someone were to ask him outright whether he believes in God, they wouldn’t get a straight answer. He’d probably shrug, dodge the question with a dry joke, or just say something like, “I don’t think it’s that simple.” And he’d mean it. Life has taught him that certainty isn’t something he has anymore.
In the end, Leon’s life isn’t defined by religion. It’s defined by the choices he makes every single day. He keeps choosing compassion over bitterness, sacrifice over self-preservation, and hope over giving up. Whether those values reflect the faith he grew up with or simply the man he’s become, I don’t think even Leon could tell you.
I don’t think Leon has ever been a particularly jealous person. If anything, he tends to give people a lot of space. He’s never struck me as someone who needs to know where his partner is every second or who they’re talking to. Trust is a big deal to him. If he’s with someone, it’s because he already trusts them. He’d much rather believe what they tell him than spend his time looking for reasons not to.
I do think he was a little more prone to jealousy when he was younger, though. Nothing over the top, just in the way a lot of people are when they’re young and still figuring relationships out. If he really liked someone and they seemed to click with somebody else, he’d probably take it more personally and start reading too much into little things that probably didn’t mean anything. It was never about wanting to control anyone. I just don’t think he’d learned yet that not every moment of uncertainty means you’re about to lose someone.
As he got older, I feel like he got a lot better at not letting those thoughts get to him. He still gets jealous sometimes. He’s still human. I just don’t think it ever gets the better of him. Leon isn’t the type to start an argument because someone is flirting with his partner or because they spent a little too long talking to somebody else. Most of the time, he’d brush it off with a joke or simply ignore it altogether. He trusts his partner enough that someone else showing interest doesn’t immediately make him assume the worst.
The thing that actually makes him jealous isn’t attention. It’s time. If his partner is genuinely happy spending time with other people, that’s never going to bother him. What gets to him is missing another birthday, another dinner, another weekend together because work got in the way again. He knows nobody is really to blame for it, but it still gets to him knowing he’s the one who keeps missing out. That’s really the only reason he envies people with ordinary lives. It’s not that he wants their life. He just wonders what it feels like to be someone people can count on to show up.
I also think Leon’s biggest insecurity in a relationship isn’t that someone will leave him for somebody better. It’s that one day they’ll decide loving him simply isn’t worth everything that comes with it. Those are two completely different fears. He doesn’t look at another person and think, “they’re funnier than me,” or “they’re better looking.” His mind goes somewhere else entirely. He wonders if, eventually, the waiting, the uncertainty, and everything else that comes with his life will become too much for someone to carry. If he gets jealous, it’s usually rooted in that fear rather than possessiveness.
Because of that, I actually think he’s more likely to compare himself to the kind of partner he wishes he could be than to other people. If someone else’s boyfriend or husband is always home for holidays, remembers every anniversary, or can promise they’ll be there next weekend, Leon notices. He doesn’t resent them for it. He just wishes his life made it easier to be that kind of partner. He’d never say that out loud unless he was having a particularly bad day, but it’s something he thinks about from time to time.
I actually think his partner would probably have no idea he was feeling jealous unless they knew him really well. Leon doesn’t sulk, get passive-aggressive, or start asking loaded questions. He just gets a little more affectionate. Maybe he hangs onto a hug for a second longer than usual. Maybe he reaches for their hand a little more often. Maybe he offers to make dinner or suggests spending the evening together without really explaining why. His jealousy comes out as wanting to feel close to the person he loves, not as trying to control them.
If someone was openly flirting with his partner right in front of him, I honestly don’t think he’d react much unless his partner looked uncomfortable. If they’re laughing it off or politely shutting it down, Leon’s probably standing off to the side with an amused smile, waiting for them to finish. He trusts them. If the other person keeps pushing after it’s clear the attention isn’t wanted, though, that’s when he’d step in. And it really wouldn’t be out of jealousy. He just can’t stand people who don’t take no for an answer. His first instinct is to make sure his partner feels comfortable, not to prove anything to the other person.
I also don’t think Leon gets jealous in friendships the way some people do. If one of his friends gets close to someone else, he’s genuinely happy for them. He’s never seemed like someone who needs to be the center of anyone’s world. Honestly, he’s probably the one encouraging his friends to spend time with the people they care about. He knows how precious those relationships are, and he wouldn’t want to take them away from anyone.
More than anything, I think Leon’s jealousy isn’t about keeping someone all to himself. It comes from worrying that he can’t give them the life they deserve. When he loves someone, he wants them to have every good thing life has to offer, even if part of him worries he can’t always be the one to give them those things. But if they keep choosing him anyway, I think those fears slowly start to fade. Over time, he stops questioning their choice and starts believing them when they tell him they’re exactly where they want to be.
Can we talk about Leon's humour for a second? I absolutely love his terrible jokes 😭 Do you think he's always been like that or is it something that changed over the years? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
I like to think Leon has always been a bit of a dork, and that those terrible puns didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They were probably always a part of who he was. What changed was the reason behind them. After everything he’s been through, humor became more than just a way to make people laugh; it became one of the ways he keeps himself moving forward. It gives him something familiar to hold onto when everything around him feels completely out of control. I don’t think it makes him fearless, but it does help keep fear from taking over. It creates just enough distance for him to stay focused, think clearly, and do what needs to be done.
That’s why I feel like his sense of humor is a lot more important to him than people give it credit for. On the surface, it’s just dry wit, bad puns, and the occasional dad joke, but I don’t think he jokes because he doesn’t take things seriously. If anything, I think it’s the opposite. His humor doesn’t undermine the weight of a situation; it helps him carry it. Being able to crack a joke in the middle of something awful isn’t a sign that he isn’t affected by it. It’s just the way he holds onto a part of himself even when things get difficult.
That’s also why I think people sometimes misunderstand him. They tend to see him as either someone who is constantly trying to be funny, or someone who has become so worn down by his late forties that he barely laughs anymore. Neither extreme really captures who he is. He doesn’t laugh loudly very often, but you can usually tell when he’s amused because one corner of his mouth lifts before he can stop it. His humor isn’t a performance he puts on for an audience. It’s something that comes out naturally, whether or not anyone else is there to appreciate it.
I also don’t think he’s trying to be the funniest person in the room. His humor feels much more effortless and deadpan, usually something he mutters under his breath with a completely straight face. Half the time, I don’t even think he’s making jokes just to get a reaction. I can easily picture him saying something ridiculous simply because it amused him, and if someone groans or rolls their eyes, that’s almost as satisfying as getting a laugh.
He doesn’t use jokes to avoid serious conversations, either. He’s far too observant for that. If someone is genuinely hurting, I can’t see him forcing a joke just to make the moment less uncomfortable. Honestly, I think he’d rather sit with someone in silence than pretend everything is okay. He isn’t joking to ignore what’s happening; he just tries to make things feel a little less heavy when the time is right.
Leon doesn’t like humor that comes at someone else’s expense. He’ll joke with people, of course, but there’s a big difference between teasing someone and humiliating them. If he realizes a joke has genuinely hurt someone, I think he’d be the first person to change the subject or turn the joke back on himself instead. He’s much more willing to make himself the punchline than to make someone else feel uncomfortable. His humor is playful, not cruel.
That playful side is why his jokes never come across as forced or rehearsed; they just slip out because that’s how he’s always processed the world. The deadpan delivery probably became sharper over the years, but at his core, that goofy side of him was always there.
This is a really specific request, but I have heterochromia and I’ve always been a little insecure about it. I was wondering if you could write about how RE9 Leon Kennedy would react to meeting someone with heterochromia. Thank you!
I really don’t think Leon would make a big deal out of it. He’d notice it right away, of course, but I don’t think he’d feel any need to comment on it. After everything he’s seen, two different-colored eyes barely register as something unusual. It’s just another detail about someone, no different than noticing they have freckles or a scar. He’d simply take it in and carry on with the conversation like normal.
I also don’t think he’d stare. A lot of people with heterochromia probably get used to others looking back and forth between their eyes or asking the same handful of questions over and over again. Leon just isn’t that kind of person. His attention would stay on the conversation, not on their eyes. He’s respectful of other people’s boundaries and good at making someone feel like they’re being listened to instead of studied. Even if he liked it, he’d probably keep that to himself unless the conversation naturally went there.
If they ever brought it up themselves, I think he’d ask a question or two out of genuine curiosity. He’d be happy to listen if they wanted to talk about it, but the moment they brushed it off or changed the subject, he’d take the hint and never push it any further.
If he got to know the person well, though, I think it would become one of those things he grows attached to. Leon has a habit of remembering the little details about the people he cares about. It’s not because he thinks those details matter more than anything else; it’s just part of how he remembers them.
If the person was insecure about it, I don’t think he’d immediately jump in with a speech about how beautiful or unique it is. That just doesn’t feel like Leon. He’s much more likely to reassure them in small, understated ways. If they admitted they were self-conscious about it, he’d probably look a little confused and say something simple like, “Really? I don’t know. I think it suits you.” He wouldn’t be trying to say the perfect thing. That’s just honestly how he sees it. Leon has never struck me as someone who cares much about whether people fit conventional beauty standards. He’s always cared far more about who someone is than what they look like.
I think that’s exactly why something like heterochromia stops standing out to him once he gets to know someone. What stays with him is the way they smile, the sound of their laugh, the little expressions they make without realizing it, and all the other small things that make them who they are. That’s always felt very Leon to me. He sees the whole person, not just one interesting feature.
oooh i have a head canon question! what do you think leon's biggest fears are? i can totally see him hating needles!
I actually don’t think Leon is afraid of needles themselves. After everything he’s been through, getting a shot probably wouldn’t bother him much anymore. What bothers him is why he’s getting it. He’s had his body messed with against his will before, so even a normal needle might make him tense up. Not because he’s afraid it’ll hurt, but because part of his mind immediately wonders what’s being put into his body. If it’s something routine, like a blood test or a vaccine, he’d be fine. But an unlabeled syringe or someone telling him to “just trust me” would make him instantly uneasy.
I think that’s true of a lot of things with Leon, honestly. It’s rarely the thing itself that scares him; it’s what it represents. I don’t think he’s afraid of guns, knives, or even monsters. Those are all things he knows how to deal with. His real fears are a lot more subtle and personal, tied more to what he carries inside himself than anything in front of him.
I think his biggest fear is losing control of his own body. After everything involving Las Plagas and the viruses he’s been exposed to, the idea of something taking over his mind probably messes with him more than he’d ever admit. He can handle pain and injuries, and he’s even made peace with the idea of dying. What he couldn’t handle is being trapped inside his own head while his body hurts innocent people. I honestly think that’s part of why he works out so hard. He needs the constant reminder that he’s the one in charge.
Because of that, I think he’d pay more attention to his health than most people. A headache that lasts too long, a fever that won’t go away, or feeling unusually tired would probably make him pause. He’s seen too many outbreaks start with symptoms everyone brushed off as nothing. Even if he knows he’s probably overthinking it, I don’t think he’d ever completely ignore that little voice in the back of his mind wondering if this is the time his body finally betrays him.
For the same reason, I think he’d hate being put under anesthesia. Most people see it as just another part of surgery, but I can’t imagine Leon ever being comfortable with willingly blacking out. Considering everything he’s lived through, being unconscious probably feels too close to being helpless. He’d still do it if he had to, but he’d be much more nervous than he’d ever let anyone notice.
Beyond that, I think another fear that stays with him is outliving the people he cares about. He’s lost too many people already, and the ones still in his life face the same dangers he does. I don’t think he’s just afraid of being alone. I think he’s afraid of being the last person left who remembers everything they survived together. Losing the few people who truly understand his life would leave him with a kind of loneliness no one else could really fill.
The thing is, I don’t think Leon lets any of this control him, and he definitely doesn’t talk about it. He’s the kind of person who brushes things off with a joke or a dismissive “I’m fine”, even when he doesn’t fully believe it. He’s spent so much of his life pushing through impossible situations that admitting he’s scared probably doesn’t come naturally anymore. Instead, he buries those feelings and moves forward. Facing another mission is probably easier than sitting alone with his own thoughts, so he carries that weight in silence.
I just know Leon would be an overprotective parent, but I’d love to hear your take. What do you think he’d be like raising a child? :3
I don’t think Leon would be an overprotective dad in the sense that he’d try to control every part of his child’s life. He knows what it’s like to have people make choices for you, and that’s something he’d never want his own child to experience. He’d want them to grow up feeling safe enough to make mistakes, figure things out on their own, and become their own person. That said, he’d definitely worry more than he lets on. He’d always be the dad who made sure they got home safely, or who waited up if they were out late, even if he insisted he just hadn’t gone to bed yet.
Losing his own father at such a young age would absolutely shape the way he’d parent. Leon never really got the chance to know what having a dad was supposed to feel like, so he’d spend a lot of time wondering if he was doing things right. There’d be moments where he’d catch himself thinking, is this what my dad would’ve done? even though he had no real answer. Instead of copying someone else, he’d end up becoming the kind of father he wishes he’d had: someone who’s always there, keeps his promises, and makes sure his child never has to question whether they’re loved.
He’d be fully present whenever he was home. His job has already taken enough time away from the people he cares about, so when he wasn’t working, his family would get all of his attention. He’d be the kind of dad who’d sit on the floor building LEGO sets for hours, help with homework even if he hadn’t looked at the subject in years, and somehow get talked into playing games he definitely didn’t understand. He’d never act like spending time with his kid was a chore. If anything, he’d enjoy those ordinary moments because they represented the kind of life he wasn’t sure he’d ever have.
Leon would also be much softer than people expect around children. He has a naturally calming presence, and he’d be surprisingly patient. If his child woke up from a nightmare, he wouldn’t tell them to be brave or go back to bed. He’d sit with them as long as they needed, rub their back, and stay until they fell asleep again. He’d be the kind of dad who listened first instead of immediately trying to solve every problem. If all they needed was someone to vent to, he’d let them get everything off their chest before offering any advice.
Since he’s so good at reading people, he’d be able to tell the second his kid was having a bad day or something was bothering them, even if they tried to play it cool. He’d never corner them or push for answers. Instead, he’d just make himself available, maybe by asking if they wanted to grab something to eat, go for a drive, or just sit with him for a while. He knows people open up when they’re ready, and he’d rather earn their trust than pressure them into talking.
He’d probably struggle more with fear than he’d ever admit. Not because he thinks his kid is fragile, but because he knows how quickly things can go wrong. The first time they rode a bike without training wheels, started driving, or left for a school trip, he’d be smiling on the outside while imagining every possible way they could get hurt. He’d keep most of those worries to himself because he’d never want his child to grow up afraid of the world just because he is.
Rather than trying to shield them from every bad thing that could happen, Leon would focus on giving them the confidence to handle whatever came their way. He’d make sure they knew how to take care of themselves, whether that meant showing them how to change a tire on the side of the road, teaching them to cook a decent meal, or reminding them to trust their instincts whenever something didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t lecture very much. Most of those lessons would come naturally through the example he set and the way he lived his life.
One thing I think he’d be especially careful about is making sure his child never feels like they have to earn his approval. Leon spent so much of his own life feeling like every mistake carried enormous consequences that he’d never want his kid to grow up believing they had to be perfect. If they failed a test, lost a game, or made a bad decision, his first question wouldn’t be, “what were you thinking?” It’d be, “are you okay?”
That also means Leon isn’t the kind of dad who loses his temper every time his kid messes up. He wouldn’t yell or punish first. Instead, he’d sit them down and ask them to explain what happened. He’d want them to understand why something was a bad idea, not just that they got caught. Once they talked it through, he’d make sure they learned from it and then let it go. He’d also be good at picking his battles. If they broke a small rule but nobody got hurt, he might just look the other way and tell them not to do it again.
As they get older, Leon would have a hard time accepting that they don’t need him in the same way anymore. He’d never stop them from moving out, traveling, or chasing whatever life they wanted, but there’d always be a small part of him that still saw them as the little kid who used to run into his arms. He’d never become clingy, though. Instead, he’d remind them to call once in a while, pretend he wasn’t hurt if they forgot, and always answer the phone no matter what time it was.
More than anything, I think Leon would want his child to have something he never did: the certainty that they were loved and that, whenever it was in his power, their dad would always be there for them.
Would you ever write headcanons about Leon's self image? Like how he sees himself, whether he likes himself etc
I don’t think Leon dislikes himself, but I also don’t think he’s someone who spends much time trying to figure himself out. For the last couple of decades, he’s been so focused on surviving and dealing with whatever came next that he’s pushed his own feelings to the side. It’s not like he’s blind to emotions; he’s actually great at reading people. He can tell right away when someone else is struggling or beating themselves up. He just never gives himself that same understanding. He doesn’t look in the mirror and hate the guy staring back, but he isn’t particularly kind to him, either. If someone else messed up in an impossible situation, Leon would be the first to tell them they did everything they could. If he made that same mistake, he’d walk away convinced he had failed.
He doesn’t see himself as some broken weapon or a mindless drone, though. He hates what happened to him and the way it never really lets him go. Just when it feels like life might finally settle down, something always drags him right back into the same nightmare. He resents the life he was forced into, the choices that were taken away from him, and the feeling that he’ll never truly be free of it. But that’s completely different from hating who he is. If anything, he tries so hard to keep those two things separate. He knows everything he’s been through has changed him, but he refuses to believe the trauma is all there is to him.
By now, Leon has lived longer as a government agent than he ever did as a regular guy. Every now and then, that fact catches him off guard. He’ll find himself wondering what would have happened if his very first day as a cop had just been boring and normal. Not because he regrets helping people or wishes he could erase his life, but because he never got the chance to find out who that ordinary version of Leon would’ve turned out to be. He doesn’t let it consume him; those thoughts usually just come and go during quiet moments, like while he’s driving alone or lying awake at night. It’s less about wishing for a different life and more about simple curiosity.
He’s hardest on himself in ways most people wouldn’t even notice. He doesn’t care much about how he looks or whether people like him; those kinds of insecurities faded a long time ago. His decisions are what stick with him. Even years later, he’ll replay small interactions in his head, wondering if he said the wrong thing or missed something obvious. Instead of thinking about everything that went right, his mind always filters back to the things that didn’t. He doesn’t dwell on them to punish himself; he just can’t stop asking himself if there was something he could’ve done differently.
For all that second-guessing, Leon doesn’t lack confidence. He knows exactly what he’s capable of, trusting the instincts and years that taught him how to stay calm when everything is falling apart. He isn’t arrogant; he’s just been through enough to know his limits. What he actually doubts is how much his survival has cost him. Sometimes he catches himself being quieter than he used to be or realizes that letting people get close doesn’t come as naturally anymore. He notices those changes and wonders if that’s just what getting older feels like, or if he slowly lost pieces of himself somewhere along the way.
That probably plays a part in why he’s so terrible at taking compliments. Deep down, he genuinely doesn’t think he’s anything special. It’s not false modesty; he just never knows what to do with praise. He understands why people call him a hero, but to him, that’s just a nice story people tell after the dust settles. Whenever someone thanks him, his mind almost automatically drifts to the people he couldn’t save. Leon carries guilt far more easily than he carries pride. He remembers faces, names, and little details most people would’ve let go of years ago. He knows logically that one person can’t save everyone, but understanding that and actually accepting it are two completely different things.
Still, there are moments when he can’t help but feel like a walking curse. He knows it isn’t rational. He’d be the first to tell someone else that it wasn’t their fault. But when it comes to himself, logic takes a backseat, and there’s still a small part of him that wonders if the people around him would have had better lives if they’d never crossed his path.
Even so, Leon has learned to accept the person he is now. He knows he’s not the bright-eyed rookie who arrived in Raccoon City wanting to be a good cop. Life changed him in ways he never expected, and some parts of that younger version are gone for good. But he doesn’t spend his days wishing he could go back. Instead, he just tries to live in a way that wouldn’t disappoint that kid.
Even after everything he’s seen, he’s still glad to be alive. He laughs at stupid jokes, enjoys a quiet evening at home, and appreciates the ordinary moments most people take for granted. Those are the parts of himself he holds onto the tightest, because they remind him that underneath everything, he’s still Leon.
Because he knows deep down he’s just an ordinary guy, he doesn’t see himself as impossible to love. He knows what his life would put a partner through, which is why he rarely lets himself imagine settling down. But when he finally does, it completely shifts how he sees himself. For years, he only viewed himself as someone just passing through life, never staying in one place for too long. A relationship proves him wrong. He realizes he’s actually pretty steady. He finds out he’s dependable, fiercely loyal, and surprisingly good at the normal, everyday parts of a life together, without having to fake it. More than anything, it proves to him that he’s still capable of building a life he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to have.
At the end of the day, he doesn’t want medals, recognition, or to be called a hero. He just wants the chance to spend a little more of his life being himself instead of always being the guy people turn to when everything falls apart. And I think that’s because, deep down, he truly does like the person he’s become. Maybe not every part of himself, and certainly not everything that’s happened to him, but the part that never stopped caring. If there’s one thing he’s proud of, it’s that after everything, he never let the world turn him into someone cruel.
imagine leon explaining to a child where babies come from xddd how would that go?
I don’t think Leon would handle the “where do babies come from” question very well. He wouldn’t run away or refuse to answer, but he’d definitely freeze up for a second. He’d just sit there staring at the kid with a totally blank expression, trying to figure out how a simple question suddenly turned into a trap. He wouldn’t want to lie to them. He’s a terrible liar anyway, and he’d think telling a kid some story about a stork is kind of stupid. But he also has absolutely no idea how to simplify something like that for a child. He doesn’t have a gentle or poetic way of explaining things, so he’d default to stating the facts as simply and honestly as he knows how.
He’d probably start out okay, saying something about how it takes a man and a woman to make a baby and that the mother carries it in her womb for about nine months. But because he’s so bad at this, he’d inevitably phrase something in a way that sounds much worse than he intended. He might compare it to a seed growing inside someone and explain that the baby uses the mother’s food and energy to grow, accidentally making it sound more like an alien taking over a host than a miracle of life. He’d realize how bad that sounded halfway through the sentence and awkwardly try to correct himself, but the damage would already be done.
He could probably get through explaining pregnancy itself, but the second the kid asked how the baby actually gets in there, he’d completely shut down. He wouldn’t know how to explain it in an age-appropriate way without making both himself and the kid uncomfortable. He’d clear his throat, break eye contact, and give some vague, half-hearted answer about how “it’s complicated” or that they “have to be older to understand the boring adult stuff.”
He wouldn’t try to drag the conversation out any longer than he had to. As soon as he gave his terrible, slightly confusing explanation, he’d try to change the subject immediately. He’d ask if they were hungry or if they wanted to watch TV, desperately hoping they’d just forget the whole thing. He’d survive the ordeal, but he’d be quietly relieved when the kid finally dropped it and went back to playing, leaving him to sit there and mentally recover from the most stressful five minutes of his week.
If it were his own kid asking, the dynamic would shift a bit, though he wouldn’t necessarily be any better at it. With someone else’s kid, he’d just want to survive the conversation and pass the buck. But with his own child, there’d be a heavy, sudden realization that he’s supposed to be the one teaching them about the world, and he has absolutely no idea how to do that. He’d still refuse to lie about storks or sugarcoat it, but he’d try really hard to be gentle. He’d probably sit down next to them, keep his voice as quiet and soft as he could manage, and actually put effort into choosing his words carefully.
He’d still stumble over the basic biology and completely avoid the specifics of how it actually happens, but instead of just brushing the kid off, he’d reassure them that it’s something grown-ups do when they love each other and that he’ll explain more when they’re older. He’d still feel entirely out of his depth, but he’d at least walk away feeling like he didn’t completely fail as a dad, even if the explanation was mostly a mess.
I came across this question somewhere else and thought it'd be interesting to hear your take: If Leon found out he only had one day left to live, how would he spend that time?
I don’t think Leon would panic if he found out he only had a day left. After the life he’s lived, he’s probably known for a long time that he wasn’t going to make it to old age. If anything, there might be a weird sense of relief, like he finally doesn’t have to carry it anymore.
He wouldn’t tell anyone at work. He’d quietly clean out his desk, hand in his badge without much explanation, and drive home. He probably wouldn’t call his friends, either. Not because he wouldn’t want to see them, but because he knows they’d drop everything and spend the whole day trying to find a way to save him, even if there wasn’t one. He wouldn’t want their last memory of him to be watching him die.
He’d spend his last morning doing exactly what he always does. He wouldn’t try to do anything crazy or cross things off a bucket list. He’d make his usual pot of black coffee, sit on the couch, and watch the morning news. He likes the boring, quiet parts of life, so he’d want to hold onto that routine for just a little longer.
If he had a partner, I think you’d be the only person he’d tell. He wouldn’t sit you down for a serious talk. He’d probably tell you while the two of you were making breakfast or getting ready for the day. He’d be really straightforward about it because he wouldn’t know how else to say it. He wouldn’t expect you to take it well. If you cried, he’d understand. He wouldn’t try to stop you or tell you everything would be okay. He’d just ask you to stay with him for the rest of the day.
He wouldn’t want to make the day into something special, either. He’d eat whatever the two of you usually have for dinner, sit with you on the couch afterward, and enjoy how ordinary it all feels. He might finally say “I love you” out loud without it sounding awkward in his mouth, just to make sure you knew.
But if he didn’t have anyone, he wouldn’t tell a soul. He’d just spend the day alone in his apartment. He might take his time doing the little things he usually rushes through. He’d probably cook himself a simple meal instead of just throwing something together to get it over with. He might even pour himself a glass of whatever whiskey he has in the cabinet.
He wouldn’t write a letter or leave some profound message behind. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway. As it got late, he wouldn’t get anxious or start checking the clock. He’d just lean back into his seat, watch whatever movie was on, and let the quiet of the apartment settle over him. For someone who never really expected to get a peaceful ending, just getting to spend his last day in his own home, on his own terms, would be enough for him.
what do you think re9 leon is like in bed? how experienced is he?
I don’t think Leon is inexperienced, but he hasn’t been with a lot of people either. His twenties and thirties were basically swallowed by his job, so dating was probably pretty low on his priority list. He’s had relationships, but they were few and far between. Because of that, he doesn’t have a bunch of wild habits or try to put on a show. He just knows what he likes and what works for him. He’s not the type to brag about it, either. If anything, he’s a little rusty when you first sleep together, but he catches on fast because he pays really close attention to you.
In bed, Leon is the exact opposite of what people might expect from a guy his size. He’s not rough or aggressive; he’s actually incredibly slow and careful. Rather than trying to prove anything, he just genuinely wants to get it right. He never rushes. He takes his time, mostly because he actually likes the build-up. Since he’s always so tense during the day, having a reason to just slow down and lose himself in something purely physical is a genuine relief.
He’s not much of a talker during it, either. He knows he’d sound awkward if he tried to talk dirty, so he just doesn’t. He communicates in other ways, like a quiet sigh or just the way his breathing changes. He keeps his eyes open a lot, too. He likes watching your face to see what you actually like rather than just guessing. He definitely prefers doing it at night or in low light, but that’s mostly just because he hates bright overhead lights in general.
That being said, he’s not always that controlled. Leon spends his whole life bottling things up, so sometimes that pressure just has to go somewhere. If he comes home wired from a bad mission, or if something almost went wrong, he probably doesn’t have the patience to take his time. He’s a bit more intense then, and things just move a lot faster. He might actually make some noise, too, like a quiet swear or a groan, because he’s too far gone to hold it back like he normally does. But as soon as it’s over, that careful guy comes right back.
The aftermath is probably his favorite part, mostly because he finally gets to stop thinking. All the tension he carries around completely melts away. He’ll pull you against his chest, throw an arm over you, and just hold you there without saying much. Normally, he’d be quick to get up and take care of everything, but this is one of the rare moments where he doesn’t feel any urgency. He’d rather stay exactly where he is, lying there in the quiet with you tucked against his side until he falls asleep.
Hello! I was wondering, how do you think Leon (any version really) would react to his girlfriend having a period accident?
I really don’t think a period accident would bother Leon at all. After dealing with real blood and literal monsters for a living, his brain just doesn’t see this as something gross or shocking. If you accidentally bleed on the bed, his first thought wouldn’t be about the sheets. It would be about you. In his mind, it’s just a normal body thing that made a mess. The sheets can be washed, and even if it leaves a stain, it’s still just a mattress.
Honestly, it wouldn’t even matter if you live together or if you’re just staying over at his place, his reaction would be exactly the same. What would actually catch his attention is how embarrassed you are. If you start apologizing or look like you want to disappear, he’d pick up on that right away. He’d honestly feel bad that you were beating yourself up over something you couldn’t control. He’s been through too much in his life to get worked up over a little blood on a mattress. It’s just an accident, and accidents happen. He wouldn’t make it weird, get awkward, or tease you about it. If you kept saying sorry, he’d probably just tell you to stop, because there’s nothing to apologize for. He wouldn’t go overboard trying to comfort you either, because he knows that can sometimes make you feel worse. He’d just keep his voice calm and move on so the situation feels normal.
He’s a very practical person. So while you’re standing there feeling guilty, Leon is already pulling the sheets off the mattress. He wouldn’t just stand there and wait for you to clean it up yourself. He’d probably tell you to go get cleaned up and put on comfortable clothes while he deals with the bed. By the time you come back, he’d already have fresh sheets on it.
If you’re dealing with cramps or just feeling emotional on top of everything, his caring side would really come out. He isn’t overly soft or dramatic, but he pays attention to the little things. He’d bring you a heating pad without you asking, make you something warm to drink, and grab whatever snacks you like. He’d make sure you’re comfortable before he worries about anything else. Taking care of you comes naturally to him because that’s how he shows love. At the end of the day, he won’t even remember the stain on the sheets. He’ll just remember how ashamed you felt, and he’ll do everything he can to make sure you never feel that way around him again.
I really don’t think Leon is a dog person. Dogs are great, but they require a level of energy and attention that he just doesn’t have left to give. They need to be walked, they jump all over you the second you walk through the door, and they bark at every little noise outside. For a guy who is already on edge half the time, coming home to a loud, needy animal just sounds exhausting. A cat makes a lot more sense for the kind of life he leads.
He’d definitely be a cat person, specifically the older, chill ones that are done with their crazy phase. He respects their independence and likes that they just do their own thing. He doesn’t have to feel guilty if he’s gone for three days on a mission and comes back too drained to play or go for a walk. A cat is perfectly happy just existing in the same room as him. He’d probably end up with one that just decided it liked him, curling up on his chest while he tries to nap on the couch or sitting on the counter watching him make coffee in the morning.
I think having a cat would be one of the few times Leon lets himself take care of something small and completely harmless. His whole life is spent dealing with dangerous things and people who want to hurt him. A sleeping cat is the total opposite of that. It’s just a small, warm, living thing that expects absolutely nothing from him other than a clean bowl of food. He’d never be the type to baby-talk it or dress it up, but he’d make sure its bowl was always full before he even thought about feeding himself.
Their quiet presence is perfect for him. A cat doesn’t jump on him or demand attention. It just slowly leans against his leg or purrs nearby, which is a gentle kind of contact that never catches him off guard. He does have to get used to it knocking things over in the dark, though. The first few times it happened, he definitely woke up reaching for a gun before he realized what it was. But once he settles in, a cat bumping its head against his hand is probably one of the only things that can actually pull him out of his own head after a bad day.
do you think leon would be good at cooking, or do you think he'd burn cereal? - rae
I don’t think Leon sees food as a source of comfort anymore. At some point early in his career, eating just became another part of the job. It’s just something he does to keep his body running. Because of that, his cooking is super basic. He doesn’t follow recipes or use measuring cups. He just throws some meat and whatever vegetables are in the fridge into a pan until it’s hot and edible. His kitchen is usually spotless because he barely uses it, and when he does, he cleans up immediately. He owns exactly one good, expensive chef’s knife, but he keeps it hidden in a drawer rather than on a counter. To him, it’s not a decoration; it’s a tool, and he keeps it scary sharp.
His actual eating habits can be a little hard to get used to if you’re his partner. He doesn’t really have a set eating schedule. He rarely eats three actual meals a day, usually skipping breakfast entirely for black coffee and eating one massive meal later in the afternoon to make up for it. When he does finally sit down to eat, he does it insanely fast. He’s not trying to be rude; he just spent years in situations where a meal could get interrupted at any second, so he learned to shovel it in while he had the chance. He also cleans his plate completely, absolutely hating the idea of wasting food. He’s been in too many situations where food was scarce, so leaving half a meal behind just feels wrong to him. He doesn’t really do sweets, either, mostly ignoring snacks unless he’s crashing and actually needs a quick boost.
When normal people have a bad day, they might crave something greasy or sweet. When Leon has a bad day, he just wants something in his stomach. Because his body is basically an afterthought when he’s on a mission, coming home to a real meal means a lot to him, even if he can’t really put it into words. Just sitting at a table eating something someone actually made for him helps remind him that normal life still exists outside of his job.
This is why he’s the easiest person in the world to cook for, but the hardest to get a straight answer out of. If you ask what he wants for dinner, his default answer is always “whatever is easiest” or “I’ll eat anything.” He’s the furthest thing from a picky eater, and he genuinely means it. If you burn the pasta or overcook the chicken, he’ll sit there and eat the entire plate without a single complaint. He knows how exhausting it can be to come home and still have to take care of things, so he appreciates the effort far more than the actual taste of the food. He won’t necessarily praise the meal with a lot of words, but if you notice him going back for a second serving, or if he quietly takes your plate to the sink when you’re done, that’s his way of saying it was good.
The funny thing is, for a guy who treats eating like a chore, he’s terrible at remembering to actually do it. Out in the field, he can survive all day on coffee and protein bars without thinking twice. But if he’s at home, stressed or staring at a report, he’ll completely forget to eat until you physically put a plate down in front of him. He’ll look up, slightly confused, like he just remembered his body needs things to survive, and then quietly eat it all.
Hey there! Do you have any headcanons for Leon in a relationship??
In a relationship, Leon shows he cares through actions and physical closeness, mostly because words don’t come easily to him. He’s not emotionally broken; he just spent so many years being trained not to show weakness. Saying “I love you” out of nowhere will probably always feel a little awkward for him. Instead, you know he cares in the small things. If you’re cold, his jacket is off his shoulders and in your hands before you even have to ask. He’ll notice when you’re tired and take over the chores without making a big deal out of it. He’s quietly protective, but never overbearing.
Physical touch is complicated for him, though. He really craves it, probably more than he’d ever admit, but his body is so used to being on high alert. If you come up behind him and touch his back while he’s focused on something, you’ll feel every muscle in his body lock up instantly. It’s not about how he feels about you; it’s just a built-in reflex that he secretly hates himself for. Because of this, he prefers to be the one to initiate contact. He likes it when you’re sitting on the couch and he can just reach out and pull you against his side, or rest a hand on your knee while he drives. He just needs to know it’s coming so his brain can stay calm. Over time, as he learns to trust his environment with you, that jumpiness fades, but it never totally goes away.
When it comes to conflict, Leon is a shutdown kind of guy. He doesn’t yell, and he absolutely will not say things he doesn’t mean just to win a fight. If an argument gets too heated, his instinct is to go quiet and pull away. It’s a coping mechanism. In his line of work, raising your voice or losing control gets you killed. In a relationship, it can make him seem frustratingly distant in the moment. What his partner needs to understand is that he’s not giving the silent treatment to punish you. He’s just trying to process the fact that his safe space feels unstable, and needs a little time to calm down before he can talk about it clearly. If you give him that space, he’ll always come back, calm and ready to fix the problem.
Sleeping in the same bed is probably the most intimate thing you can do with him, simply because it’s the only time his guard is completely down. He runs hot, so he usually kicks off the blankets in the middle of the night, but he’ll always end up rolling over to be close to you. He still takes the side closest to the door, though. It’s just survival instinct by now that he can’t turn off. If he wakes up from a nightmare, which happens less when he shares a bed, but still happens, he never wakes you up. He’s really good at getting out of tangled sheets without making a sound, usually just going to the kitchen to get a glass of water and stare out the window into the dark until his heart stops racing.
