Request for RE9 leon to take care of the reader on her period
Will do! As a person with godawful periods, I had a blast writing this lol.
Summary: You get your period and bleed all over your favorite pair of sweatpants. Leon to the rescue!
Masterlist
Stained Sweatpants - Leon Kennedy x Reader
“God fucking damn it!”
Your voice is ringing out from the bathroom.
Leon is there within moments, skidding to a halt outside of the door. Years of fighting for ones life tends to make them pretty quick, after all.
“Honey?!”
A sigh, “Fuck, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just got my period.”
His heart rate calms. He traces the doorhandle once, before asking, “Everything okay in there?”
“I bled on my favorite pair of pants.” Your words sound defeated.
He pauses.
“... How bad?”
A second later, the bathroom door cracks open just enough for one eye to peer out at him. You look miserable. Hair messy. Face pinched in irritation. One arm wrapped around your stomach.
Ah. One of the bad ones, then.
You sigh dramatically, wetness welling in your eyes, and open the door the rest of the way.
The crime scene reveals itself. Your favorite sweatpants. Or… formerly favorite sweatpants. The blood stain is impressive, quite honestly.
You point at them accusingly. “These are dead.”
Leon looks. Then looks at you. Then looks back at the large red stain.
“…Honey.”
Your eyes meet his. Your shoulders lift weakly. “... I know. It’s stupid…”
You look genuinely upset about it too, which makes his chest ache a little. Not because of the pants. Well. Partly because of the pants. Mostly because he knows you. And he knows that when you get like this, it isn’t just about ruined clothes.
Everything feels bigger. Meaner. The ruined pants become proof the whole day sucks. The cramps become proof your body hates you. The tiny inconvenience becomes the final boss.
Leon learned that one a while ago. So instead of saying something practical like they’re just pants, he steps into the bathroom.
Your brows raise. He crouches. Picks up the pants. Inspects them like a forensic investigator.
Then, he hums. “…I’ve seen worse.”
Your expression twists. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.”
“You are absolutely lying.”
He shrugs. “Pretty sure I’ve gotten zombie blood out of jackets before.”
You blink. “…That is not comparable.”
“Blood is blood.” He shrugs, still inspecting the stain.
You stare at him. Then a laugh escapes you. It’s small and annoyed, but real.
Mission accomplished.
Leon stands afterward and gently nudges your hip. “Go get changed. Take one of those ‘everything showers’ you like. I’ll take care of this.”
He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, before shutting the bathroom door. The shower starts running moments later.
.
.
.
Twenty minutes pass. The pants are almost like new again.
When he looks, really looks in the right light, he can see a little bit of a beige hue around where the stain had been, but it’s almost back to the right color. He’s taking it as a win.
“... Leon?”
He turns toward you with a smile. “Almost done. What do you want for breakfast?”
A snort of amusement. “You’re cooking for me too?”
He turns toward you, showing you the pants slung over his arm, “You’ve had a bad morning. Let me take care of things, yeah?”
Your expression melts.
“... Yeah. Sure. That sounds great, actually.”
Leon disappears into the kitchen afterward before you can overthink yourself into apologizing. You hear cabinets opening. The soft scrape of a pan against the stovetop. The familiar noises of him moving around the kitchen with that strange efficiency he somehow applies to literally everything.
You sit at the table afterward, wrapped in one of his hoodies, hair still damp from the shower and legs tucked up beneath yourself.
Objectively, you know you feel ridiculous. You know ruined sweatpants shouldn’t make your throat hurt. You know crying over laundry is objectively not a normal response. Unfortunately, your hormones did not ask for your opinion.
You stare blankly at the table. Leon appears a minute later carrying a plate and a mug. Breakfast lands in front of you. Your favorite.
Your eyes narrow. “…Were you planning this?”
He sits beside you with his own coffee. “Planning what?”
You gesture vaguely at everything. “The food. The weirdly competent stain removal.”
Leon just shrugs. “You looked sad.”
His words make your chest hurt a little. You poke at your food, before mumbling, “Sorry.”
His hand reaches across the table, finding yours. His thumb is quick to trace comforting circles over your knuckles. “…For what?”
You shrug. He sets his coffee down slowly before turning fully toward you. “Honey.”
You already know where this is going. You sigh dramatically. “I know. I’m not supposed to apologize for existing.”
His mouth twitches. “That’s not exactly what I was gonna say.”
You glance up. He reaches over and casually steals one of your pieces of fruit. “I was gonna say you don’t need permission to have a bad day.”
Your face immediately gets warm.
His voice softens. “You know,” he says, leaning an elbow onto the table, “I don’t think less of you because you got upset over pants.”
You snort weakly. “You should. It’s objectively embarrassing.”
He looks genuinely confused. “Honey, I’ve watched grown government agents cry because somebody used the wrong coffee creamer.”
You blink. “…Seriously?”
“Do you know how stressful bioterrorism is?”
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. His expression immediately softens.
There she is.
You sigh and lean sideways until your shoulder bumps his. “…Thanks.”
His eyes flick toward you. “For breakfast?”
You shake your head.
“For not making me feel stupid.”
Leon looks at you for a second too long. Then he reaches over and squeezes your knee once. His thumb rubs over the fabric absentmindedly. “Honey,” he says quietly, “I’ve seen you handle things that would flatten most people.”
Your eyes drift toward him. He shrugs. “If today’s enemy is a pair of sweatpants…” His mouth quirks upward. “…I think we can take ‘em.”
re4r!Leon Kennedy x f!reader
summary: when a routine gets broken before leon leaves for a mission, it leaves you frustrated and worried.
wc: 3.6k
content warning: brief use of y/n, mostly angst, reader worrying herself over leon, miscommunication between these two, happy ending
-
Every mission that Leon was assigned to, you always had to bid him goodbye before he left. Call it a routine, or even a superstition; but no matter what type of mission or how early in the morning he had to leave, you would kiss him, make him promise to come back safe, and watch him leave.
It felt like the least that you could do. Leon doesn’t tell you the full extent of what he does on his missions, as he doesn’t even like to recall the memories himself. So it felt like for you, that something as simple as a goodbye kiss and a be safe remark would settle your anxiety for the time he’s gone.
This particular night, you and Leon were cuddled in bed relatively early, as he had to leave at two in the morning for his mission. The room was dark, minus the dim lamp on your bedside table, emitting a warm glow on your faces.
Leon had the briefing in his lap, looking over the details a final time before he drifted off to a restless sleep. He never slept well the night before a mission. Whether it was because he knew what he was getting himself into each time, or it was the too real possibility of the fact that he might never see your face again.
You, curled up into Leon’s side, back resting against the headboard as you watched his face focus on the papers in front of him, tilted your head down to plant a kiss on his bare shoulder.
“Hey, you’ve read that thing ten times front to back now. You need to sleep,” your lips murmured against his skin, a hand rubbing his chest in soft circles. Leon sighed, and folded up the briefing and placed it on his nightside table.
“Yeah okay,” he muttered tiredly, a yawn escaping out his mouth as he spoke. He switched off the lamp next to him and settled further into bed, you doing the same.
Leon was on his side, arms wrapped around your waist as you snuggled deep into his chest, your nose digging into his collarbone. Leon always held you tighter before parting; memorizing every dip and curve of your body, the smell of your shampoo, the soft sound of your voice in his ear.
You inhaled the scent of Leon’s skin, freshly clean from a shower but still had a hint of his pheromones that drove you wild. You nudged your nose against his neck, placing a gentle kiss to his pulse.
“If I don’t hear your alarm wake me when you get up, okay?” You whispered against his neck, exhaustion beginning to creep into your body. Leon kissed the top of your head, keeping his face nestled in your hair.
“It’ll be too early for you, baby. I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered back, another sigh escaping his nose as he went to shut his eyes. You pulled your head back just enough to look at his face, and frowned.
“I have to say goodbye, I’ll fall back asleep once you leave.” Leon’s head rolled when you pulled yours back, his eyes blinking back open only slightly. He was exhausted, to say the least. His brain was consumed with the case, under eyes dark from lack of sleep. All he could do was lean in, slotting his lips into yours like they were made for each other.
The kiss was deep, trying to communicate the words he couldn’t come up with. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his body.
“Love you so much,” Leon whispered, words trailing off as he succumbed to sleep. You only kissed the tip of his nose, nestling your head back into the crook of his neck before allowing sleep to pull you in.
-
Your head was buried in your pillow when you began to stir awake. Face practically suffocating in the silk pillowcase, hair in all different directions on your head. You felt strangely well rested, muscles relaxed and battery fully recharged.
Your eyes still closed, you flipped over in bed and extended your arms to reach for Leon, and was met with the cold mattress. You frowned, arms flailing as you tried to search for even a little bit of warmth.
That was when you opened your eyes, immediately squinting from the morning sun.
Wait, the sun? What time is it?
You lifted your head, eyes adjusting just enough to read the digital clock on Leon’s nightstand. The time read 8:57am.
You sat right up, head whipping across the room as you noticed Leon’s duffle bag was gone, briefing missing from the nightstand, and jacket removed from the back of the door.
Leon had left. And didn’t say goodbye.
Your immediate reaction was to be enraged. You had told him to wake you up if you couldn’t yourself, and now you’ve been left to wake up alone without giving him that comforting farewell you always did. You felt your face get hot, eyes filling up with angry tears.
You hopped out of bed, and made a direct route to the phone. You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this as you dialed Hunnigan’s number, but your mind was too groggy and frustrated to think clearly.
It only took two rings for Hunnigan to answer her headset, “y/n, what are you-”
“-What’s Leon’s status.” Your tone was flat and direct, not daring to let your voice crack as those hot tears fell from your eyes.
“He said this might happen,” Ingrid muttered to herself, “you know I can’t tell you that, y/n.”
“I’m not asking, Ingrid. What’s. Leon’s. Status.”
The line is silent for a moment, you almost thought she had just hung up until you heard a deep sigh from the other end.
“He is on route to the location. If everything goes accordingly, he should be back to base by the end of the night. You really don’t need to worry-”
“-Thank you,” you hang up the phone before Hunnigan is able to finish her sentence. You let go a shaky breath, and wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand.
The anger subsides as you stand in your bedroom, fingers running through your hair, and the fear settles in.
Maybe the reason why waking up alone hurt you so much is because of the first time he ever came back home to you. The first time Leon came back injured, you hadn’t even known he was on a mission.
You were sitting on the couch in your apartment, halfway through a movie you’d already watched twice because Leon was supposed to be home three hours ago. At the time, you were still learning what it meant to love someone like Leon Kennedy.
You knew he worked for the government, that he traveled, and you also knew there were things he couldn’t tell you. But you didn’t understand what that really meant.
Every time he left, he’d brush a kiss against your forehead and tell you he’d be back in a few days, and every time, you’d believe him.
That night, the knock at your door came just after midnight. You remember being more annoyed than anything; annoyed he’d forgotten his keys, annoyed he scared you, that he made you wait.
You marched across the apartment ready to lecture him, and opened the door.
You froze.
Leon was standing there swaying on his feet, shirt torn, blood stained sleeve of his jacket. There was a cut across his cheek, and another disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. His face was pale and exhausted.
The moment he saw you, some invisible thread holding him upright snapped. He stumbled forward, and you barely caught him.
“Leon?” Your voice had sounded strange; small and terrified. You helped him inside, heart pounding so hard you could hear it. He kept saying, “It’s not as bad as it looks,” which only made the vision of your eyes get blurrier and blurrier.
You remembered kneeling on the bathroom floor while he sat on the edge of the bathtub, your hands shook so badly you almost dropped the antiseptic. Leon had laughed softly, actually laughed despite the blood and bruises, despite the split skin over his eyebrow.
You’d glared at him through tears, “Stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could’ve died,” the words escaped before you could stop them. Leon stared at the floor as the bathroom went quiet. For the first time that night, he had nothing to say.
Because you were right. You sat between his knees, still clutching the first aid kit. After a long moment, Leon reached out and brushed away a tear rolling down your cheek.
“I’m here, though.”
You hated how broken your voice sounded when you answered, “But what if next time you aren’t?”
The question lingered between you too honestly, too uncomfortably. Because you both knew that it was a real possibility. Leon didn’t answer immediately, instead he leaned forward and pressed a tired kiss to your forehead. Then another, as though trying to prove that he was real. Still breathing, still alive.
You remembered grabbing the front of his shirt before he could pull away, holding him close to you like you needed to feel him.
“Then promise you’ll always come home,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as you rested your forehead on his. Leon had smiled, small, tired, but genuine.
“I promise.”
The next time he left for a mission, you’d kissed him goodbye at the door. And every mission after that. Neither of you said it out loud, but somewhere along the way, the goodbye kiss stopped feeling like a habit. And started feeling like a promise.
You stared at the silent phone in your hand. Leon had kept that promise every single time, until this morning.
It was Leon’s first mission back from the events in Spain. He had been forced on a leave for a month after suffering from night terrors every night the moment he came back. Even after the leave, they had put him on straight office work for a few weeks to make sure he didn’t lose all of his progress; they can’t ruin their best agent, right?
You spent every night taking care of Leon; calming him down after each nightmare, making sure he ate and showered, even hid all of the knives and unloaded his guns in case he sleepwalked again.
You had been told that this mission wasn’t anything compared to the one in Spain. It was a simple gathering of intel, he shouldn’t have any need to even fire a weapon. But after everything you watched Leon go through, and the very little he told you that happened, you were still apprehensive about this mission.
That was why when you woke up alone this morning it pained you more than usual. You were afraid that Leon would lose all his progress, something could trigger a memory or feeling and he could lose his guard and then-
Before your own thoughts could spiral further you shook your head vigorously, and decided that there’s no good in dwelling on what’s already been done. All you could do was try to distract yourself until Leon came home, supposedly by the end of the night.
So that’s what you did. You did everything imaginable to keep yourself busy; got showered and dressed, cooked breakfast, started a load of laundry, got groceries, cleaned the whole house, did more laundry, even washed your bedsheets so Leon could come home to a clean bed.
You were washing the dishes from dinner when your mind started to betray you again. The sun was just about set, the sky glowing shades of pink and orange, and all you could think about was what if Leon didn’t come home tonight.
You thought about calling Hunnigan again, but decided against it as you really weren’t supposed to ask for his status and you wanted to trust that she would be right about his departure home. You packed up the leftovers, making a plate and leaving it on the stovetop just in case Leon came home hungry.
You settled on the couch in the living room, pyjamas on and wrapped in a fluffy blanket with a movie playing on the tv. You could hardly focus on the screen as you constantly checked the time, and twisting your head to the front door at every car that drove by or every creak you heard.
The clock only read nine pm, meaning it would be quite a few more hours until Leon would be expected home. You thought about going to bed, skipping the agonizing hours and getting right to the part where Leon was pressed close against your back and head nuzzled deep in your neck.
But your brain felt so wired that sleep wasn’t even an option. You could feel your muscles aching to rest but your thoughts were so all over the place that it couldn’t shut off. You also weren’t sure how to handle the situation when he did come home.
Your first initial feelings were angry. You wanted to yell, interrogate him as to why he would break a routine that was so important to you. But you also knew that Leon would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe his alarm never went off and he slept in? Or he was still half asleep as he walked out the front door and forgot?
After all, this was Leon’s job. You didn’t expect him to dote around every time you left for work, so maybe it was the same thing? Did you feel like a hindrance to him? So many conspiracies encircling your mind it began to create a pounding in your head.
You laid sideways on the couch, blanket covering everything but your eyes as you tried to focus on the tv again. A tear betrayingly slipped past your eyes, all you could do was count down the hours until all of this would be over.
-
Your body jolted awake the second Leon’s keys fiddled with the front door. You didn’t remember falling asleep, or even how long you had stayed up prior. The sky outside was still dark, a quiet rain trickling down the windows.
You sat up as you heard the front door open, but didn’t turn to look. You could hear the squeak of Leon’s boots as he kicked them off, duffle bag being dropped to the floor, and jacket hung up on the coat rack.
Leon’s feet padded quietly on the hardwood floor, trying to make sure he didn’t wake you. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner when he stopped, seeing your back upright on the couch.
“Hey,” he sighed, walking closer to the couch. You almost flinched at his voice, your brain already trying to convince you that this wasn’t real. Finally, you rose from the couch, and turned to face him.
And there he was. Tired, hair messy like he had been playing with it, clothes a little wrinkled, but he was here. Alive, and not even a scratch that you could see. It almost made you more upset that he was fine. Like the routine that you had set up in your head actually didn’t mean anything.
Your arms hugged around your chest tight, eyes already starting to brim with tears, “You didn’t say goodbye.”
Leon’s shoulders tensed, eyebrows knitting together on his forehead. He attempted to take a step closer, but you took a step back.
“Sweetheart, please-”
“I asked you to wake me before you left, and you didn’t,” your voice cracked for the first time all day, not ashamed of showing how hurt you were, “I kiss you goodbye every time you leave.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks, arms tightening around your chest to stifle a sob. Leon sighed again, running a hand through his hair, your eye catching that faded scar over his eyebrow.
“It’s four in the morning, y/n. I’m tired, you’re tired, can we talk about this in the morning-”
“-No, Leon!” The words came out sharper than you intended. “I waited all day for you.”
Leon tensed, you could see the exact moment the frustration drained out of his face and the realization settled in.
“I called Hunnigan,” you murmured, now suddenly feeling embarrassed of what you did. Leon’s eyes widened, head tilting to the side.
“You did what?” That got Leon’s attention immediately. He had given you Ingrid’s number in case of an emergency. If he didn’t show up when he was supposed to, or god forbid something happened to him during a mission.
So him finding out that you had called her made him put together just how terrified you were. Leon forced himself to stay put in front of you, you had already backed away once and he didn’t want to stress you any more than you were.
So he watched, watched as you rocked on the heels of your feet, nose sniffling as more tears fell down your face.
“I thought something happened to you.” The words felt like something you had been avoiding to admit all day. You never usually think of the worst when Leon would leave, especially when you’d be reassured with that goodbye kiss and the promise that he would make it back safe. So when you didn’t have that safety net to fall back on, it triggered something horrifying inside you.
Your arms unfolded, dropping to your sides defeatedly before a choked sob escaped you. All it took was you shifting closer to Leon that had him breaking free of his stance, barreling towards you and wrapping his arms tightly around you.
He cradled the back of your head as you sobbed into his chest, your arms squished at your sides from Leon holding you so tight. You could feel his shirt dampening from your tears but you didn’t care; the mixture of anger and hurt only formed into relief knowing you no longer had anything to worry about.
Leon shushed you comfortingly, brushing your hair with his fingers to soothe your cries, and once all that remained were quiet whimpers and sniffles was when he finally spoke.
“You finally fell asleep.” His voice was just above a whisper, brushing against the shell of your ear. You pulled your head back just enough to meet his gaze, brows furrowing in confusion.
“What?”
“You were sleeping,” Leon’s hand moved from the back of your head to cup the side of your face, “for the first time in weeks.”
That’s when it clicked for you. While you were so busy taking care of Leon ever since he came home from Spain, you were forgetting to take care of yourself.
You lost countless hours of sleep making sure he wouldn’t have another night terror, skipping meals when you were watching Leon make sure he ate everything off his plate, and only giving yourself enough time in the shower to clean your hair and body.
So when Leon woke up before his alarm actually went off, and saw you sound asleep next to him, he didn’t bother you. Leon had a hard time showing his gratitude with words, and he was extremely grateful he had someone like you to hold him together in one of his darkest moments. He figured the least he could do was let you get a full night's rest.
“You looked so peaceful, and you haven’t been sleeping well because of me. So I didn’t wake you.” Leon stared deep into your eyes as he spoke, making sure you could read his genuine expression, how he would never do anything to purposely harm you.
You looked at him through your damp eyelashes, your face relaxing enough to understand why he did what he did.
“That wasn’t your choice to make,” you whispered, “I always say goodbye.”
Leon clicked his tongue at your words, his heart aching so badly over how distraught you had been.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he muffled into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You finally wriggled your arms out of his grasp to wrap them around his back, squishing your face deeper into his chest.
“I hated leaving you without saying goodbye.” Leon confessed, rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades. You hummed in question, tilting your head to rest your chin on his chest. “I stood in the doorway for ten minutes. Because it means a lot to me, too.”
You could almost start sobbing again. You had gone all day contemplating whether this silly superstition you have actually made a difference to Leon, if a simple goodbye was enough to put both your worries at ease. Now that you knew it not only meant a great deal to him, and how he forced himself not to wake you this morning, it filled your heart right back where it was meant to be.
You gave him a quivering smile, body straightening to have your head reach closer to his. One of your hands reached to his face, your thumb grazing along his jaw.
“Well, I think you forgot something this morning.”
Before Leon could answer you leaned in and softly kissed Leon’s lips. It wasn’t anything intense; just your lips slotting perfectly into his and taking in everything you missed while he was gone.
Leon sighed into the kiss, shoulders relaxing and pulling you closer to his chest as he deepened the kiss. Everything you had been so worried about flew out the window. All you knew was that Leon was home, he was safe, and he cared about your silly routine just as much as you did.
Saw a woman at the grocery store buying your favorite coffee creamer. Almost told her she was making a good choice. Realized I sounded insane.
[unsent]
You left one of your hair ties in my jacket pocket three weeks ago. I keep forgetting to take it out. Smells like you.
[unsent]
Mission update: Nothing exploded. Nobody got bitten. I ate a sandwich. You would've complained that I skipped vegetables.
Missed you the entire time.
[unsent]
Do you know you've completely ruined being alone for me? Before I met you I could disappear for months. Now I see something funny and immediately reach for my phone. I'm like some kind of domesticated animal.
[unsent]
I keep thinking about growing old with you.
[unsent]
Sweetheart.
What does "he's serving cunt" mean?
Actually, don't answer that.
A/N: YOUR HONOR, THIS IS A MAN WHO LOVES HIS WIFE. I will be posting a voicemail he leaves you tonight in the Princess Correspondence. Tonight at 8. Hope to see you girlies there.
Because the older he gets, the less interested he becomes in pretending he has any dignity left.
You're standing in the kitchen talking about something. Maybe it's important. Maybe it's not. He's listening. Probably.
He's sitting at the table with his first cup of coffee, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair sticking up in six different directions, reading glasses mysteriously absent despite the fact that he was wearing them ten minutes ago.
You are halfway through a sentence when he reaches out one hand. No warning. No explanation. Just a vague grabby motion in your direction.
The moment you're within range, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you directly into his lap then continues listening as if nothing happened.
You were standing over there. Now you're sitting here. Problem solved.
The thing about older Leon is that he becomes increasingly affectionate in direct proportion to how tired he is.
Fully awake Leon still remembers social conventions.
Half-asleep Leon operates entirely on instinct.
And his instincts, unfortunately, are embarrassingly transparent. He doesn't ask. Asking requires energy. Words require energy. Negotiation requires energy.
Simply making you his problem requires significantly less effort.
You'll be trying to do dishes and suddenly there's a large warm man leaning against your back.
You'll be reading a book and discover he has quietly placed his head on your shoulder like an exhausted golden retriever.
You'll get up to grab something from another room and hear a disappointed noise behind you so pathetic it sounds medically concerning.
Not a word. Just a noise. The noise of a man whose favorite piece of furniture has developed free will. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.
You tell him later.
"You're clingy when you're tired."
And he immediately denies it. With complete confidence. While actively holding your hand. While sitting close enough that personal space has become a historical concept. While looking at you over the top of a coffee mug because he still hasn't found his glasses.
"Am not."
“Sure, Leon. Whatever you say. Now move your arm. I need circulation back in my hand.”
A/N: the audacity of making reader point it out. Hush little lady, let it be your happy little secret forever
Summary: A big fat crush on your coworker and a walk home in the rain.
Word count: 1,910
Notes: I was struggling to write and than Vendetta Leon. Idk, guys. He's just my muse. Music inspiration: "Pocket Full of Rainbows" - Elvis Presley & "Born to Die" - Lana Del Rey
Warnings: reader is on the shy/flustered side (is that a warning?) , Leon jokes about unaliving himself,
You'll never tell him. That's what you believe with your whole heart. You can barely talk to him without your face becoming hotter than the sun. And don't even ask about the eye contact.
He's so gorgeous, and you don't even know why. With that dark hair hiding his face and those heavy eye bags. Jeez, even the stubble is unkempt. But by god, you find him so attractive. And no one. No one has made you feel this way. No man besides him has flustered you so intensely before.
Who are you talking about? Well, the president's favorite, of course. Leon S Kennedy. Apparently, he used to be more muscular and put together emotionally. Lately, he's been sarcastic, tired, and just a little rude. Yet, it works for you. . . and your lady bits. Doesn't hurt that his voice is raspy yet smooth as butter. Make it make sense.
It doesn't. Nothing about him does. It just is. Exactly like this big fat crush you've got on him.
Oh, and you are coworkers. Yep, you nearly see him every single day. Does he know you have a crush? Well, the agent hasn't said anything. But you'd be a bit shocked if he hasn't figured it out yet. You're a clumsy fool around him. Eyes can't meet his. Never really know what to say.
Though, he looks for you quite frequently. Maybe it's because you listen so well or 'cause you don't judge the way he's been so gloomy. You don't ask questions about it either. A lot of the time, you'll just sit in silence.
A deep sigh exits your mouth. You haven't been focusing at all. Therefore, you've stayed way too long at work, and your report is nowhere near finished. You had been so optimistic that you could finish before the day's end. And you just had to prove yourself wrong.
You lean back in the office chair, causing it to squeak while you groan in frustration and run a hand down your face.
"What's that for?" A snort of amusement follows the comment. It startles you. Immediately making you straighten up and look towards the source of the sound.
"Leon." You acknowledge your crush with a slight nod. Briefly, your eyes meet before you chicken out.
A smile breaks out on his face. "Shouldn't you be home by now?" The wall of your cubicle creaks as he leans over it to peer down at you. His blue eyes are so bright, and not even his emo hair can hide those gems.
"Um. Yeah, probably." You shrug with a lopsided smile in reply.
"I can walk you home." He leans in further, and your eyes flick upwards to Leon. He offers a devastating wink. "I got an umbrella, too. Protection from loneliness and the rain for no cost." You laugh lightly and shake your head.
He's utterly ridiculous, and yet you got butterflies filling your stomach. It's so unfair. "Sounds good. Let me get my stuff together. This report will just have to kick my butt further tomorrow."
Leon laughs, "That's the spirit." He slaps the top of your rickety cubicle before going for his own things. You both walk out of DSO headquarters side-by-side. Now, you see the rain clearly. It's calm for the moment but consistent.
His pitch black umbrella springs to life, and he holds it over both of you. Childish dreams of sharing an umbrella with your crush pop into your head. You stab at the happy bubbles, trying to stop heat from rising to your cheeks before it's too late.
For a while, neither of you say anything. It's footsteps on wet pavement, and rain drops hitting an umbrella. Your hand is securing the bag hanging from your shoulder. You try to balance being under the umbrella and not brushing up against the seasoned agent.
Leon clears his throat, ending your shared silence. "So, how are you? Anything fun going on?"
Oh god. This is where he finds out you're super boring. "Um, yeah. I'm good. Nothing much going on. You?"
"Yeah, nothing fun these days. I should probably just kill myself, huh?" He laughs it off, a warm raspy chuckle that would normally make you hot and bothered.
Yet, he's been making a lot of jokes like that as of late. It upsets you. A lot. Zero love or respect for himself. It's a heavy, serious subject that shouldn't be taken lightly.
"You know. I wish you wouldn't make those jokes anymore." You huff, walking faster towards your apartment.
Leon snorts, and quickens to keep up with you, umbrella continuing to shield from the rain. "Why? It's just a joke besides no one would actually miss me."
Your feet halt instantly, and you whip your head around to him. "Excuse you? I would miss you." You point to yourself and glare at the blue-eyed man. "Me. That's who."
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You'd go on without me. As a matter of fact, you'd be better off without me." The certainty in his voice and the pain he's so clearly trying to hide is a knife to the gut. Every joke and the way his body shifts uncomfortably is an obvious sign to you that he's genuinely hurting.
Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and your eyes begin watering. "How can you say that?" The question tumbles out, weak and crushed.
He sighs your name, setting his work bag down to free his hand. Then, that hand is brushing across your cheek. Your breath catches, and his eyes soften. "You don't need me." He whispers, sounding utterly defeated. How long has he been feeling this way?
You knew he wasn't in the best place mentally, but you didn't think it was this bad. Foolishly, you hoped it was a phase. Something fleeting that he could escape. You must be an idiot.
You step closer, also dropping your bag to grasp his shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe I don't need you. But Leon, I want you." You smile even if it is wobbly from your crying. "We're friends. Aren't we?"
His eyes widen slightly, and he inches closer to you. Gradually, his head dips into a nod. "Yeah," he follows up with a whisper. Your world flips upside down when his eyes drop to your lips.
Does he want to be friends? Or something more? Suddenly, his free hand lands on your waist, and you're gasping. No longer are you crying. It's just the sky that cries alone.
"If I'm about to ruin everything. Please tell me." Leon sounds like a dream come true. Voice low and full of yearning. Yet breaking into beautiful shards of glass and wishing for your delicate hands to glue them back together.
You'd bleed a thousand times over. Cut yourself on every shard if it meant he'd be whole once again. "No. You're ruining nothing. Please kiss me." Your hands curl in his shirt, and your eyes plead with his.
He takes his time. One hand holding an umbrella and the other slipping to your lower back. Leon drags you closer and dips his head to meet your lips. It's absolute magic. I mean, what else can make your toes curl and drench your body in heat?
You part from the kiss, a sigh of relief escaping you both. He pulls back, and you follow his lead. Then, your eyes meet, and a shy smile takes you over. He looks shocked, blinking at you stupidly.
"What?" You feel embarrassed, laughing and picking random fuzzies off his shoulder.
"You kissed me." He shakes his head, appearing completely dazed and confused.
"Um, yeah." You answer with a soft chuckle. "I wanted to kiss you. I've been wanting to kiss you. I thought you knew."
Another shake of his head. "You did? How long?"
"Very long." You shrug as if it's no big deal. As if this hasn't been going on since the start. Since the first day you met the skilled man.
He grabs your chin, his spark returning. A smirk on his delectable lips and a promise of trouble in his ocean gaze. "How. Long?" He punctuates each word, slow and intense.
You burst into flames, heat crawling up your neck and covering your face. "I don't know. Months?" You bite your lip and dart your eyes around. The sidewalk, your apartment in the distance, wet grass, or the gray sky. Anything except the object of your desires.
"Hmmm." He hums thoughtfully and takes notice of your teeth indenting your lip. His thumb pulls your lip loose, and your knees weaken in response.
"You can kiss me again." You whisper, small and feeble like a mouse.
His eyes glimmer with lust, and he tips your head back before pressing his lips to yours. Shy yet, sure you slip your hands to his nape and play with the ends of his midnight black hair. His lips slant, and the game changes. His stubble is scrapping against your skin, and a moan is spilling from you.
He groans hungerily, and the umbrella falls to the pavement. His now freed hand is cupping the back of your head, and the other is on your back, pushing you into his chest. Your knees buckle, knocking into each other. Your hand slides up further, fisting in his hair.
A rich guttural noise leaves Leon, and a needy one escapes you. Both of you are becoming soaked as the rain intensifies. A threatening rumble of thunder can be heard in the distance. Neither of you stops. Your lips meet again and again. Both of you cling to the other like a lifeline.
Your heart drops when he pulls away. But then his lips meet your jaw. "Leon," you sigh like a lovesick maiden. He sucks on your skin and licks a strip up the column of your throat. Your hands slide down his chest and then under his shirt.
He melts, sighing against your heated skin. A few more kisses grace your skin before he's hugging you to himself and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Thank you." Your name follows so affectionately from his lips.
"You don't have to thank me." You drop a kiss to his wet hair and rub his back. A steady up and down motion while the rain soaks into your clothes. This continues for a while, and you don't mind one bit.
When Leon raises his head once again, he seems lighter. "I guess I needed this. Huh." He shrugs as if to say, 'who would have thought?'
"I guess so." You shrug in return and drop your hands from his amazing body quite reluctantly.
"We should get you inside. You're soaked." Leon bends over to pick up the forsaken umbrella and his work bag.
"So are you," you mumble and reach for your own bag abandoned on the sidewalk.
The umbrella is wrapped up and held under his arm. The rain is still brutal, but you've been standing in the rain too long for it to change anything. His hand grabs yours, and your fingers interlace. Angels start singing, and you're dancing from one cloud to the other.
The next few hours are spent with your crush. Maybe boyfriend soon. Two cups with steam floating off the top decorate your coffee table. Two towels lay crumpled in your bathroom. He decides to go home after the storm lets up. But you make sure he leaves with a pocket full of rainbows and a heart full of love.
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I'm so happy with how this ended! Yay!! Please enjoy my incredible taglist!
can i request headcanons and/or a drabble of leon re4 being in charge of an escort+protect mission with a super sweet empathetic reader that he catches feelings for? the type of person to ask about his life and say things like "this job must be so hard on you..." bc leon deserves someone who's almost *overly* considerate of his wellbeing <3 especially *my* re4 leon, who is repeatedly getting shot point blank because i cant quick turn him without being nauseated 😂
hii! sorry this took so long <3 tysm for requesting, i love this idea so much. not sure these are even headcanons anymore just a hundred blurbs verging on an actual fic LOL but i had fun writing it
pairing: leon kennedy x reader [no y/n used, gender netural]
tags: flirting, moving kinda fast but idgaf leon falls in love with the snap of his fingers! taking advantage of him being described as a romantic in canon
warnings: none
When he finds you, much like Ashley, you nearly attack him. You're a spitfire from the minute he sets his steely gaze on you; wide eyed with a dull excuse of a knife thrust in front of you.
He holsters his drawn gun and raises his hands in surrender. "Please don't stab me with that thing. Not sure my tetanus shots are up to date."
You actually manage to huff out a laugh at his joke, and once he explains who sent him, with enough detail to be sure he's who he says he is, you let your shoulders fall.
Leon finds something warm and gooey growing within him in the next hours as you traverse the rest of the ghost town with him. You smile at his jokes, you trust him more than he thinks he would in your position. There's something irrevocably empathetic about your nature; a hope that he clings to unintentionally.
And when the two of you hole up in a safe house to shelter from a roaring storm, he knows he's in deep trouble. Because just after he'd fought off the last of a hoard of infected, tripping over debris and falling branches— just after you've piled furniture in front of any doorway and window— you're approaching him cautiously. Like you would a frightened dog.
"I think that tree got you," you mutter, and he's not sure why, but he doesn't flinch away from your touch. Your fingertips are soft and he knows you've just met, but something electric fizzes beneath them. He tells himself it's just been too long since he's been close to someone, that it's hormones. Adrenaline. Whatever.
"You got any bandages in one of those pockets?" It's kind of funny, he thinks. That he's here to rescue you, to guide you out of this hellhole, and yet he's leaned against a wall while you tend to his wound that's probably not even that big of a deal. But apparently it is to you, and you seem satisfied when he produces a few bandages from his belt pocket. You borrow his water to wash the gash as best you can. It's not deep, but it's a risk of infection, nonetheless. You insist as much at his protests.
He tries to hide the shiver in his body when you brush his hair back from the wound to smooth the bandage on. The rain patters against the old house in a dull noise, and all he can here is your gentle breath as you move away with a pleased expression. Leon finds himself wishing you'd stay close.
"Are you okay?" The question catches him so off-guard his brain short-circuits. There's no tone of humor in your voice; no hint of amusement across your features. You're pretty as ever, just as he'd subconsciously noticed the longer he studied you, and the gentleness of your expression brings out a new epitome of beauty that has his pulse thrumming.
"What?" Is all he can manage, and you repeat your question. He doesn’t know how to respond. Nobody’s ever asked him that. What finally comes out is half an answer. “...It’s part of the job.”
“Yeah, but are you okay?” You touch his arm and he flinches a little, but doesn’t move away. “Just because it’s something you have to do, doesn’t mean it’s emotionless.” This was probably the third thing you've done that ruined him. Because it played over and over again in his head. Your lack of hesitation in reaching out to him; like he deserved care or some sense of stability. It wasn't a obligatory offering of therapy from the government; it was a genuine ask. A concern for his well-being, even if you had only met a few hours prior.
And that was only the beginning.
Even after you had returned home safely, Leon still thought of you. In the med-bay while the both of you had been separated for clearance. In the debrief room while he's interrogated by his superiors. In the hallway when he sees you reuniting with your family members. You spot him from over the shoulder of one of them, and his heart skips when your lips curl into a smile. Like you're happy to see him again. Like you appreciate him as more than just a contracted savior.
Leon's twisting his wrist in his hand behind his back as you approach him. Like a nervous kid. You're thanking him again, even after he's told you probably ten times it's not needed. And then you're thrusting your phone towards him and asking for his number. In case he needs someone to talk to. And he's putting it in as you tell him you'd like to buy him dinner. And he swears there's a hint of a flirt in the tone of your voice.
You meet him a few days later at a diner. It's late, and the joint has only two other people seated at the bar. It feels all too much like a date, and the fact that Leon had agonized over what to wear for two hours prior didn't help. Seeing you cleaned up and grinning, smelling of perfume and something sweet makes his palms sweat. He's not sure the last time he went on a date, even if this wasn't that, it made him as nervous as one.
You soothe his nerves easily. Laughing, asking him about work, his nonexistent hobbies. He feels something warm crawl up his neck the more you gaze at him, like you care for him. And even if he won't let himself believe it, you certainly do.
"Your job must be so hard on you," you muse, tracing a finger over the top of your milkshake's glass. It's long gone now, both of you having eaten what seems like an hour ago. But you have yet to move. "I can't imagine the things you see. Having to process that. You're braver than most, you know?"
"Easy tiger, you might hurt yourself stroking my ego that hard." He scoffs, feeling a bit sheepish. You say it like you mean it. Like you're not buttering him up for something in return. And maybe it's because you've been a part of all of it firsthand; maybe because you see right through him. The frowns, the brow twisted in perpetual stress. Shoulders tense and ready for a fight, even now, in a cozy diner.
"You should work on that, tough guy," you raise an eyebrow at him. He meets your gaze steady, for once that night, and feels himself wanting to reach across the table to touch you. To feel your soft fingers against his skin again. You pull him in like you're magnetized to his very being. It's maddening. Leon wonders if it's possible to fall in love this fast. He has to be crazy. He's just lonely. Right? "Letting someone care about you and all. It's not as hard as your broody eyes make it out to be."
Leon's struck silent by your words. They're not a confession, really. Not with the way you say it so easily, like it's obvious and like it wouldn't take him ten years to build the courage to say something like that out loud. And you only worsen his struggle when you're sliding next to him in the booth and reaching for the bandage on his forehead. It'd been replaced during his medical clearance, but he honestly hasn't even thought to check it since then. And god, he's glad he hadn't.
Because you're pushing his hair back again, and you're so warm next to him, and the scent of your perfume is clinging to him. The bandage has already peeled up on the side from being held on too long, and you mumble an ask if you can remove it. Leon barely hears himself say yes. The adhesive goes without struggle, and you smile at the now closed, already scabbed over cut underneath. Your thumb rubs away some of the remnants of the adhesive, and Leon's eyes betray him when they flicker to your lips for half a second.
If it were anyone else, they may have missed it. But you're observant, you care, and you notice. And Leon feels his heart drop to his stomach when you pull away. You're talking to him again like nothing's shifted, a reasonable distance between the two of you now. But you're still at his side.
He loses the fight to pay the check, but doubles your tip before you stand to leave. He walks you to your car, and just before you bid him goodbye, you turn back to engulf him in a hug. He can't make his brain work fast enough to hug you back. Before he can even process it, you've pulled back, planted a kiss on his cheek, and climbed into the driver's seat. He stands there in the moonlit parking lot like a lost puppy.
The next time he sees you in person, it's another date (but not a date) at the same diner. He'd actually managed to ask you, and you'd replied in half a second with an eager yes.
At this point, you'd had what felt like thousands of conversations. Texts and phone calls between work that had the both of you attached to your cells like a lifeline. Every time, you always started the conversation the same. That you were just checking up on him. Like he was the civilian that was rescued, that his experience in that ghost town wasn't just another day on the job.
A few weeks of knowing each other and you were already far removed from that scared mess of a person in the corner of a run-down house. You're a shining star in Leon's vision, a radiating sunbeam that made him feel like he had purpose again. Like maybe he's a person again.
This time, you choose to sit next to him from the beginning of the night. He can smell your perfume again, and he leans just a little bit closer to you. Your heart is pounding in your ears at his presence. Everything is so wonderfully fuzzy. Sugary sweet laughter between the two of you and brushing shoulders. Time flies fast and soon enough it's passing midnight, and he feels a little bad because you're beginning to yawn.
You allow Leon to pay this time. He feels a small sense of pride at being the one to care for you, even in such a miniscule way.
Leon walks you to your car. His hands are behind his back again as you lean against your driver's side door. You could've unlocked it and bid him goodbye by now. As in it's a hypothetical possibility. But you're locked on the way the breeze shifts his hair, and his blue eyes dragging over your face. It's not even an option. You're glued in front of him, asking how work's been. Which is code for are you okay? Always checking in. Maybe if were someone else, he'd have been annoyed by now. But its you. It's you and your caring eyes, your ginger words that are so damn genuine. It's been a long, long time since he'd felt that painted so heavily on him, imbued into his heart.
He's watching you with something close to hunger. There's a softness to it; rounding his sharp eyes and tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hands are twisted behind him, almost shy, and you wish they'd pull you closer to him.
Your features are soft in the glow of the neon sign in the parking lot, lit pink and blue as you peer at him through your lashes.
"It's almost healed," you suddenly say, eyes just above his own. His breath hitches as you brush his hair back, fingers tracing over the baby pink line where the ugly gash used to be. He thinks maybe you've done more brain damage to him than a tree branch ever could, because he feels a little drunk on your encroaching closeness.
You've somehow creeped closer as you look him over, and before he knows it you've placed your palm against his chest.
"Maybe this is forward, but," you brush down the collar of his jacket, dragging your eyes up his face. "I think I could fall in love with you, Leon." His mouth goes dry. Suddenly his heart has flown upwards in his throat.
"Do you want to?" Your smile grows wider and you huff.
"I kind of think I already am," you tilt your head and press closer. He's sure you can feel his heart pounding beneath your fingers curling in his shirt. "You can touch me, you know," you trace a finger across his shoulder, as if giving him permission to free his hands from their nervous bind. He does so ever so slowly, losing any sense of willpower to keep his touch to himself. Foolishly, he thinks steadying his hands on your hips will help him. Instead, he's sent into a dizzyingly warm headspace when you pull him against you. He's caging you into your car door, and the look you give him is as if this is what you've wanted this whole time. "Do you want to?"
God, he does. He's not sure had a chance to stop it. Like doesn't feel like a proper explanation of the pull, the need he has for you next to him. The lift in his spirit when you ask him how he is, when you check in with him because you've been thinking about him. The way you send him falling over backwards to do anything for you, and the way he aches knowing that you've cared for him this whole time. So casually, so fully, even when you barely knew him. It's only grown stronger. His hold tightens on you and he ducks his head with a groan. He nearly keels over right there in the parking lot when you guide his gaze back up to yours with a hand on his cheek. He feels like a whiny dog when he utters his next sentence, but he could care less. It's the only thing that will slow his racing heart.
pairing: leon kennedy x reader [no y/n used, gender netural]
summary: leon comfort
tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, choose ur own leon
warnings: sad reader self indulgent i needed this ok
wc: its short idk i wrote this on my phone also not proofread sorry
Leon hears you before you say anything. He always does, but the creaky floorboard in the threshold between your kitchen and dining room gives you away easily. He waits for you to announce yourself anyways. Ten, twenty seconds. But you don't speak. He's long past pretending to read the notes he's studying, and finally twists his head to peek at you.
There's something unusually small in your stature. A slouch, a creased brow, fingers knotted together in worry. Your eyes are rimmed red and a pit opens in his stomach. You stand there, in more of his clothes than yours; his shirt, his socks, his smell, likely. And normally this would make Leon feral; send him grabbing and nipping at you like a wolf. But the way your eyes shine in the dim light of the kitchen call for something much more docile.
"Hey, sweetheart," he starts, pushing his chair back enough to turn towards you. He rests an elbow on the back of the well-loved chair, your grandmother's handmedown. A warm walnut wood with olive green upholstery that's fraying at some seams. But you hold onto it, enjoy the character. And sometimes Leon thinks that must be your type. He, of all people, is full of fraying edges. Of character.
It's times like these that he's reminded that you're much the same. The difference is that you make it look easy. To share, to break, to ask for comfort. He can learn a thing or two from you, as always.
"Hi." Your voice is frail. Quiet. The pounding rain outside nearly drowns out your weak gretting. Leon rests his cheek on his fist and locks his gaze to yours. You can see the thousand questions in there; all the things he's neatly tucking to the side for now. You're overwhelmed enough. For now, his duty is to figure out what you need.
His first offering is a hand, his fingers loose and open as he reaches for you. It's an invitation of touch, a gentle poke to determine your boundaries.
Today, that's exactly what you want.
Your hand is warm when it folds into his. He holds it much like a knight greeting his majesty. His fingers squeeze once.
"Missed you."
"I was in the other room."
"Doesn't change it," he shrugs. You huff. It's followed by a sniffle that breaks Leon's heart just a little. He brings your knuckles to his lips for a short kiss, then presses them to his cheek. He says your name once, ever so gently."What do you need?"
"I... don't know," your hand falls from his cheek to your side. A limp noodle of a limb. "Guess I missed you, too." You reach out this time. To brush his hair from his face. It's sticking up in all sorts of directions like it always does when he's bent over work. Running fingers through his hair with soft grumbles over the missions. Both to come and those that have already went.
Leon takes your touch as an opening, a want for closeness. He closes his hunk of a laptop and rises.
"Come sit with me," he guides you out on the balcony. It's covered from the now light trickle of rain. Thunder rumbles in the distance, lightning flashing in the distance. You almost wish the storm would stay. The patter of drops against the wood is a heavenly distraction from the pounding, pacing thoughts in your head.
There's only one chair on your balcony; a meager attempt at decorating it when you're hardly out there. The papasan had been an attempt to change that, but it's just sat empty and unused since then. No desire to spend time out in the sun when you could be in your bed.
It's much more inviting when Leon's settled in it.
You stand frozen as he makes a sigh of contentment once he's settled, and he practically scoffs at you. There's not a hint of malice in it; more amused disbelief that you're still an excessive three feet away from him.
"Come here, baby. It's cold out here." The excuse is laughable, really. Leon's a walking radiator. But you let it slide. He knows what you need, knows your stiff movements are needing his hands. To warm you like putty, to settle you back into your skin again.
He practically tugs you on his lap as you go to sit, settling you sideways over his thighs. His hand finds its way to your bare calves, to rub warmth over the goosebumps there. You let yourself curl into him, to exhale just a little.
"Better?"
"Yeah," you croak. Your tears have long since been spent, shed quietly in the shower while Leon worked away. You told yourself since it had all crashed onto you that you just needed a walk. A shower. A good cry. But none of it is enough, really. None of it replaces Leon's gentle hands, the low timbre of his voice, the warmth of his words in your ear. Sometimes, you just crave reassurance. Touch. Especially his. And it's long since past something you have to accept.
"This a talking kind of sad?" You don't even ask how he knows you're sad anymore. He clocks every single shift in your presence. He's trained in observation, sure, but more importantly he loves you. He knows you, he sees you.
And, in turn, he holds you.
"Not today," you bury your face in the crook of his neck. The vibrato of the hum he lets out in response soothes your shaking body still. His arm tucks itself around your waist, fingers brushing under the hem of your— his— shirt to touch your skin. It's like a salve to your burning, long-irritated soul. "Just need you here."
Leon turns to look at you, your gaze far away in the distance. Tracking the streaks of rain as they fall across the city. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another between your eyebrows. They're gentle. Warm. It squeezes the hole in your heart shut. Just for a bit.
Girl, here me out. [Game Of Thrones AU] Leon S. Kennedy x Stark!Female!Reader.
Leon was an oprhan who grew up in Westeros. As a child, when Leon was homeless and scavenging for food, and when he was on the verge of death, the reader who was on a visit with her father found him and took him under her wing. He rose through the ranks and became a sworn sword/cavalryman, Leon eventually realised that he loved her. But he didn't do anything about his feelings because he knew it was useless, when the Stark family slowly started dying over the series. He swore on his life to protect her, even going as far as to ask Sansa for permission to marry her.
heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i sworn sword! leon s kennedy x stark! female! reader
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★word count: 1.8k
★description: leon scott kennedy began life as an orphan - destined for pain and suffering upon the streets of king's landing. however, ned stark takes a kindness to him, and his life changes - for the better
★content: these are sfw headcanons, but if i were to flesh this out into a fic it may dip into nsfw territory <3
roe speaks: OKAY WAIT YOU'RE ONTO SOMETHIIIING okay so, I thought I'd give you some headcanons for now (so that I don't push aside every wip just to write this out bc this feels like it'd be a big, sexy, juicy fic) - let me know if you enjoy this, and I can consider fleshing it out into a big fic! i love leon so much ughhhhh i'm not even kidding when i say this ask came in at the PERFECT time (i was sat here twiddling my thumbs thinkin ab what fic to write tonight lol <333)
YOUNG LEON, orphaned so young that he had not the chance to even think of parents, let alone mourn them. Who would roam King's Landing amongst the other homeless orphans, scavenging from bakers who would turn a blind eye as he would snatch a stale bread.
YOUNG LEON, who envied the City Watch, scouring the streets in their gold capes as they upheld 'justice'. He would watch them, hidden and praying to the Seven that he too would grow to be like them.
YOUNG LEON, who - despite the warnings his fellow orphans give him - stumbles upon a garden he is most definitely not to be seen in. And whilst he is trying to find how he can safely leave said garden, lays eyes on the prettiest girl he could have ever thought of. His own age, perhaps slightly shorter than him, wearing one of those stuffy, billowing dresses that every noble pushed their daughters into. As the girl calls him over, he forgets his position for a moment - rushing over to play.
YOUNG LEON, who does not realise the danger he is in (or the danger he would be in, were it not for Ned Stark's ever kind gaze) until it is too late, begging for forgiveness from a disgruntled King Robert Baratheon until the girl tugs on Lord Stark's trouser, staring up at him with eyes he cannot deny. And as he sighs, attempting to deny her, she only becomes more and more adament, until he turns to his good friend:
"Forgive him, Rob. You know how they are, that young."
"Why should I, the King, forgive him?"
Oh dear. You hide behind your father's legs as sweet, innocent Leon begins to shake - unable to hide his fear. Ned's eyes glance down, before he kneels to his height. For a moment, Leon thinks this is it. This is his short life, come to a quick and swift end. Oh, the horrors! And he would never see you again…
Ned lifts his chin, forcing Leon to look up at him. But he is not cruel, nor does he cause pain - keeping his hands and voice gentle as he speaks to the frightened boy,
"None of that now, lad. If you are to come with us, then you'll have to man up - think you've got it in ya?"
Behind him, two guards stifle their laughter. The King sighs, shaking his head and Ned almost fears he won't speak, until a small voice speaks out, behind the tears,
"I have! I have, my Lord!"
"Good lad. Your name, then?"
"My name is Leon Scott Kennedy, my Lord."
"Well then, Leon. You'll be travelling with my daughter and I, back to Winterfell. Got any belongings or family to inform?"
As he shakes his head, part of Ned's heart drops. Perhaps taking him in was a better choice than leaving him to rot in the streets of King's Landing.
"We'll take him on, Rob."
"Your loss, Ned."
YOUNG LEON, who's first act after being taken in by Ned is to thank you profusely. In fact, he does not stop thanking you until you order him to, and then he remains silent until you begin teasing him. The two of you spend the journey playing together (as young children often do), and Ned holds a sweet smile whilst watching the two of you.
YOUNG LEON, who upon arriving in Winterfell is told he will be taught with the other boys, raised to become a guard for the family. He swears upon the Old Gods and the New, that he would put his very soul into training - until he could not anymore.
TEEN LEON, who spends every day training and perfecting himself (for you). From the moment he awakens, to the moment he sleeps - everything he does is training in some way or the other.
TEEN LEON, who knows the girls of Winterfell have their eyes on him. Though he is sure they would be good to him, he keeps himself faithful to his promise. It does not help that he does not think the one he has eyes for could ever consider him in such a manner. Instead, he represses his feelings - focusing first and foremost at his work.
TEEN LEON, who does not miss how you spend two hours every afternoon reading in a room with a window that just so happens to overlook the training yard. He thinks you're just looking out for him. He does not know that it happens to be because those two hours are the two where he trains shirtless. Even better are when it rains.
YOUNG ADULT LEON, who has not been able to let go of the crush that has now blossomed and bloomed into a deep, gut-wrenchingly painful love. The kind of love he prays for every night, plagues him. He prays that he will never act upon it - for your sake, of course! And, he prays that whatever noble Lord you are to be betrothed to will love you as he does. He knows better though - he knows no one could ever come quite close to how much he loves you, and the thought of that hurts him. What he does not know is how you lie in your chambers, tears streaming down your face as you think of him.
YOUNG ADULT LEON, who has just been appointed your sworn sword - to watch and to guard you with every last breath. He makes eye contact with you when he is sworn in, and does not miss the smile on your face. He briefly matches it, before returning to a look 'more suitable' for his role, as he stands beside you.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who follows you everywhere (well… almost everywhere. Anywhere he cannot follow behind, he waits outside patiently as you continue to ramble to him). He tries not to engage with your ramblings at first - claiming that he must focus on his task - until you turn to him with that same pouty face you convinced your father with.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who - despite swearing he could care less - is very much invested in your gossip. Who wore what dress, who sneaks behind their Lord Father and Lady Mothers' backs to rendezvous with the stable boy in the middle of the night - he remembers it all.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who cannot maintain professional boundaries, no matter how hard he tries.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who really, really tries to ignore his true feelings.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who comes with you as you leave Winterfell to go to King's Landing with your father and two sisters - despite the horrible pit in his stomach that tells him to pull you aside and keep you far, far away.
SWORN SWORD LEON,
who - during the chaos of everything, stays by your side no matter what. In trying to return you to Winterfell, he does not leave you. Not even in your most personal of moments. When you ask him for space, he vehemently refuses,
"I swore an oath, my Lady."
"An oath?"
"To you. I am sworn to you."
"I can relieve myself in peace, Leon."
"I will turn away, but I will not leave."
"Leon…"
"…"
"…fine! Stubborn as ever.."
SWORN SWORD LEON, who when you finally - after quite literally surviving the trip to Hell and back - return to Winterfell still will not leave your side. And that is when Sansa sees it. That look in his eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to Jon Snow in both of your directions. The two share a knowing look.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who is approached one day .as you are sewing in another room, by Sansa. His back straightens as she shakes her head, calling him over with two fingers. For a moment, he fears he has overstepped a boundary, or done something of offence. For a moment, he feels exactly like YOUNG LEON from all those years ago - barely able to make a sound.
"I see how you look at my sister."
"My Lady?"
"Do you think we cannot see?"
"No, no, you misunderstand! I do not look in such a manner, my Lady-"
"Relax, Ser."
"…"
"My sister probably looks at you similarly. I.. have an idea."
"…"
"Would you marry her? Not that she cannot take a suitor - believe me, she has many proposals, still waiting. But I do not trust them, not like I know I can trust you."
"My Lady, are you sure?"
"More sure of this than anything, Ser Kennedy. You love her, and she loves you. And I have seen how you have devoted yourself to her - no other man will devote themselves in quite a way like you do. So..?"
"What else can I say, but yes?"
SWORN SWORD LEON, who did not realise how difficult it would be to stay away from you as the two of you stayed separate to one another in the days leading up to your wedding. He returns to old habits - namely training in the yard to keep himself busy. Once again, he is oblivious to you watching him.
SWORN SWORD LEON, who feels uncomfortable in the clothes he wears on the big day. Who keeps tugging at his neck, feeling constricted. The only thing that keeps him sane is the fact that he is doing this for you.
SOON TO BE HUSBAND LEON, who cannot help but let his lips part like that when you walk towards him, ethereal in your Northern finery. The way your hair has been pinned back, and you step just like an angel. For a moment, he concerns himself with ideas of not being good enough for you, until you look at him with that same sweet smile that has him swooning.
DEVOTED HUSBAND LEON, who carries you all the way to your chambers, refusing to spend a moment away from you. Both your giggles and his carry through Winterfell for all to hear as you spend the night tangled in each other's arms. In the morning, the sight of your head resting on his chest has his heart melting.
DEVOTED HUSBAND LEON, who swears to love you with every breath - in this life, and every other life to come.
DEVOTED HUSBAND LEON, who sees YOUNG LEON in his dreams sometimes and tells him of how he finally made their dream come true. YOUNG LEON does not understand at first, but when he realises it's you, it all clicks.
DEVOTED HUSBAND LEON, who loves his sweet Stark wife with his whole heart and soul.
leon tags (fill out the taglist form here to be added on!) :
@whimsyblossom , @cloudyspiregrimoire , @firingstars . @tamyyyy2005
A short and smutty oneshot based on an anonymous request. Can imagine just about any Leon in here RE4 or later. Fem!Reader. Sexual frustration. Strangers to hookup to lovers. Doggy style. Prone bone. Just some good old-fashioned smut.
Hope you enjoy, anon!
Leon Kennedy Masterlist
“Girl, you look like you’re barely holding on,” your friend said as the two of you sat down to meet for coffee on a Thursday after work.
You gave her a withering look, “Gee, good to see you, too.”
She ignored your sour disposition and kept talking, “We are going out together this weekend,” she declared, “And you can’t say no. You’ve already canceled plans with me three times in the past month.”
“Yeah, cuz I had that big project at work. Ya know, the thing that had me working overtime almost every week for over a year?”
She rolled her eyes, “Uh huh, and now the project is done. What would you do this weekend without me, anyway? Watch TV on your own? Jack off a million times?”
You kicked her under the table with a scowl, “Shut up! Fine!”
You hated how right she was. Your weekend plans really were going to be lounging around and making yourself cum as much as possible.
Well. Trying to make yourself cum.
And that was one of the big reasons you were so tense. You hadn’t cum in months and hadn’t had sex in over a year. This dry spell had you desperate. Work had eaten up so much of your time that finding dates or hookups was simply impossible. And you were so stressed and so exhausted that you couldn’t make yourself cum. You’d either end up crying in frustration or passing out from fatigue.
Fuck, maybe going out was a good idea.
The anticipation built in you during the evening and into the next day, and by the time work ended on Friday, you were practically buzzing with excitement. Even if you couldn’t get fucked, you could at least dance and drink your woes away. It was always fun to unwind with your friend, anyway.
You met her at your favorite bar Friday night, both of you dressed in outfits that showed more than they covered, cash ready to tip any live performers. The bar was a great place to pregame—good food, cheap shots, and a fifty-fifty chance at live music. It was perfect to get into the mood for the club later. It was busy with the rush of DC white-collar workers and government employees that always came after work, still dressed in their work clothes. You and your friend were the only ones dressed to turn heads.
You sat together at the bartop and the familiar feeling of the barstool under you made you relax already. You ordered a round of shots and some nachos to get the night started.
“Cheers!” you and your friend cried out as you clinked your shot glasses together.
You threw the shot back and savored the burn of the vodka going down your throat. Fuck, it had been too damn long since you had any fun.
“Ooh there’s an actual smile on your face,” your friend teased good-naturedly, “Hold on, lemme take a photo!”
You swatted playfully at her, “Fuck off.”
You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed with her, especially not when the platter of cheap nachos was placed in front of you. Fake queso and everything.
When the second plate was brought out, your friend excused herself and scampered off to the bathrooms, leaving you to munch the food on your own. You had a feeling you wouldn’t make it to the club later, but you didn’t mind. The live music was good, the food was good, the drinks were good. Yeah, you were feeling pretty fantastic.
However, when your friend was gone for a solid ten minutes, you began to worry. You turned to get off your barstool, only to see her sitting at a booth and getting cozy with some guy. You caught her gaze and quirked a brow at her and she mouthed sorry at you before laughing at something the guy said.
Ugh.
At least one of you was getting lucky tonight.
“Is this seat free?” a deep voice asked.
You spun so fast you nearly snapped your neck. Beside you stood one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen in your life. Dirty blond hair that covered his face with fringe. A tight blue shirt that showed off his well-built torso. A leather jacket that screamed expensive. A jawline you’d very much like to kiss along. Blue eyes you could get lost in. And… wait, he’d asked you something, hadn’t he?
“Oh, er, go ahead,” you said awkwardly, “My friend ditched me,” you said, gesturing toward where she and that guy were now making out.
Ah, she’d always been a free spirit.
The man beside you chuckled and took a seat where your friend once sat. As he got closer, you took a subtle sniff. Damn, he even smelled nice.
“Whiskey, neat,” he said to the bartender, “And something for the lady.”
“Water,” you said with a smirk, “I don’t let strange men buy me drinks.”
It was a test, of course, and the man gave a smirk and nodded, “Mhm, smart.”
Ok. First test passed.
The bartender poured the man his whiskey and gave you a glass of water. You held your glass toward the man and smiled when he clinked his against it.
“Name’s Leon,” he said before taking a sip of his drink.
You introduced yourself and took a gulp of your water before grabbing some more nachos.
“So, what brings you here?” Leon asked, eyeing you up and down, “You’re not exactly dressed for a joint like this.”
“Well, we were just pregaming,” you drawled, “We were supposed to go to the club, next, but…”
His blue eyes cut over to your friend and mirth spread across his features, “Yeah, looks like your friend already found her entertainment for the night.”
You turned to look, only to turn straight into her. She had the decency to look sheepish as she approached.
“Er, I’m gonna head out with Marcus, here,” she said, nodding toward the man behind her. Her eyes darted between you and Leon before narrowing slightly, “You good?”
You nodded, “I’m good. You owe me a night out, though. You’re paying for everything next time.”
She gave you a grin and a salute, “Aye, ma’am!” she declared before glancing at Leon again, “And be safe, ok?”
“You, too,” you said with barely concealed amusement.
Once your friend and her boytoy were gone, you turned back to Leon before both of you began to snicker at your friend’s antics.
“She seems… spirited,” the man said into his drink.
You rolled your eyes fondly, “Yeah. She’s a wild one.”
“What about you? Got any of that wild side?”
You smirked at him, “Mm, why don’t you get to know me and find out?”
----------
Two hours later and you were screaming like a banshee into the expensive bedding in his fancy-ass apartment. You’d already cum twice—once on his fingers and once on his mouth—and you were now rapidly hurtling toward your third orgasm as Leon gave you the best fuck of your life. Dry spell? Officially ended.
Leon fucked you with a single-minded focus to make you cum. His hips slapped against your ass with lewd, wet sounds as his dick hit your sweet spot on every thrust. You’d literally never been with a man who managed to be so precise as he took you apart. Well, it helped that Leon was also fucking hung. You wailed as his thick girth stretched you so much it burned a little.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Leon groaned as he leaned over you, pressing his weight on you, chest pinning you to the bed, “You’re so wet for me, gorgeous. So sensitive, too. It’s so hot.”
“M-more, please!”
Leon chuckled in your ear and maneuvered you until you were flat on the bed and your eyes rolled back at just how delicious he felt in this position. You’d never done prone bone before, and now you needed it every day. Specifically with Leon. He felt even bigger like this, and you came with a pathetic cry of his name, feeling your cum soaking his navel and your thighs. It splashed around with each wet thrust, and you felt yourself get even more turned on at just how messy you were being.
“Look at that,” Leon rasped, “Squirtin’ all over me, beautiful.”
You grunted in response, beyond words at this point. And, shit, Leon was still going. Cock hard and hot and throbbing and you almost wished he wasn’t wearing a condom just so you could really feel him.
“Mmf, gonna cum, baby,” Leon moaned as his hips stuttered, “Oh, fuck!”
He groaned your name as he came, his hips twitching against yours as you felt extra warmth fill the condom inside you. You whimpered as he collapsed atop you, happy to be pinned wholly under his weight. Both of you were gasping for air, bodies a sticky mess of sweat and cum, and Leon was gentle as he eventually pulled out of you.
You expected him to begin cleaning himself up, maybe nudge you toward the door, but you were delightfully surprised when he helped you to the bathroom. He let you do your business and shower first before taking his turn. You felt a little guilty using his super expensive body soap, but you figured he could afford it. When you were clean—though still a touch shaky—you exited the bathroom to find Leon holding a bundle of clothes toward you.
“Should be comfortable enough to sleep in,” he murmured, “Get comfortable, yeah?”
You nodded mutely. This was… not just a hookup, was it?
He smiled at you as you took the clothes and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before heading into the bathroom himself.
You grinned like a giddy schoolgirl as you got dressed and crawled into his freshly-changed bed and under the covers.
A girl could get used to this, you thought.
And, several years later, you had. And Leon was always there to make sure you never went through a dry spell again.
Summary: Leon never wanted to work at the DSO, but the only thing worse than being forced to work for the government was being forced to work a desk job. Good thing he's a field agent, and his desk work always involves you. (wc. 1.4)
Warnings: Leon and reader are both pervs (more Leon tho). No age-gap warning bc they were both fighting in Racoon City during the outbreak. Reader works at the DSO; wears skirts/glasses; is female body coded; she/her pronouns.
Listening to: 'She Keeps Me Up' by Nickelback - "I need her so bad sometimes I think that I can taste it... I can't trust my friends 'cause she's what everybody chases, and I know where she's been 'cause it's on everybody's faces."
Masterlist || AO3 link
Leon Scott Kennedy. Ex-police officer. Survivor of the Raccoon City outbreak. DSO agent extraordinaire. There were many ways to describe the man whose desk sat near yours, and you were starting to believe hopeless romantic or pervert was also one of those ways.
He was nice though, and attractive, so as bad as it sounded you didn’t mind him perving on you. It was only fair since you often caught yourself staring at his ass, the work slacks did him all the justice in the world - tight but not too tight. And then his shirts, how his biceps looked and his forearms when he’d roll the sleeves up during summer -
Hopeless. Maybe you were the hopeless one. But that hopelessness was not a habit you were going to break any time soon. You’d been gawking at him for years, ever since that horrid day at Raccoon City.
Both caught in the middle of the mess, fighting for your lives. You didn’t know what point in the day you ran into each other, but he saved your life that day. If you’d been on your own for another hour you probably would’ve died from paranoia alone. But then Leon showed up.
Young, blonde, round faced and still full of his innocent rookie charm. Between his arsenal of police-issue weapons, and the sawn-off shotgun you’d found under the counter of the store below your apartment, you both survived the day.
You’d been picked up by the government early on. You learnt they snooped into the records of all the survivors of Raccoon City and they picked you out as an office worker who had much potential to be trained up as an agent. With Leon they weren’t so lucky, they had to wait to get him to join. When he did, founding the DSO upon his arrival, he was like a seeker missile with how fast he found you on his first day of work.
And if he wasn’t out getting his hands dirty, he was sitting in whatever free cubicle was nearest to yours.
“Another coffee Kennedy?” You asked, leaning over the divider above his computer screen. His head perked up, eyes softening. He was obviously very focused today, usually he’d already be looking your way by the time you started walking in his direction.
“If you’re going that way, thanks.” he said, handing his empty mug into your outstretched palm.
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” you replied, sliding around his cubicle until you nearly stood at his side. You watched his eyes flick, down then up again, you could tell his eyes wanted to linger, but he was trying to be decent in not ogling you when he knew you could see him doing it.
“You don’t have to go out of your way for me.” He said. You stepped closer, crossing your arms and tapping his mug on your hip.
“Again, I wouldn’t offer if I was.” your voice softened, “You’ve taken bullets for me and refuse to let me return the favour, the least I can do is get you a fresh coffee.”
“You could always buy me a drink instead.” he suggested, offering you one of his smirks. One of his eyes nearly shut at how he was nearly smiling, creases around his eyes crinkling. Even with the light catching the grey in his whiskers, he could still remind you of that rookie from all those years ago.
“One of those fruity ones with a little umbrella and slice of lime?” You said, starting to turn on your heel.
“Those are my favourites, now you’re talking dirty to me.” he said, throwing your cheek back at you.
“I’ll make sure to add that to my usual order of scotch.”
You drove Leon insane. It wasn’t always like that though.
Sure when you first met all those years ago he would’ve given you a second glance, you were pretty and any guy like him would want to give you the time of day if you asked - but then he got to know you. He was a goner.
He was a little older than you, only by a few years, but a lot of time passed between you and no doubt he grew as a person too - but to see you grow from a pretty young lady to a woman who demanded attention without ever asking for it was, as Grace would say, ‘a whole thing’.
Leon rarely saw you outside of work, and then it was more often in the office than in the field, but he didn’t mind. Getting distracted by you was a lot safer when the only thing at risk was turning in a report late.
And you were a distraction.
No one else in the building made a white blouse and pencil skirt look as good as you did. Black heels and a long expanse of your stocking covered legs on display.
He remembered clearly the first time you’d caught him eyeing you - he was too busy following your figure as you walked away, thinking about those heels… well it didn’t matter really. What mattered was how far back he leant in his chair, and how it gave way under his weight. He crashed to the floor, chair falling over beside him. He landed hard, and if anyone wasn’t looking at him gawking at you, they would be looking at him sprawled out on the floor like a fool.
It was years ago now, back when he first joined the DSO offices, but he still copped flack about it.
“Another coffee Kennedy?” Speaking of the devil, there you were. Perched over his cubical divider, looking down at him with a half smile. It took him a second to register what you were saying, he was too distracted at the way your glasses were half-down your nose.
“If you’re going that way, thanks.” he said, handing his empty mug into your outstretched palm. You fingers brushed, and he watched as your perfect manicured fingers curled around his mug.
Fuck, he was in trouble.
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” You walked around until you nearly stood at his side. He loved when you wore slacks, it showed off your thighs so nice, but he was weak for your skirts. How could something so basic look so good? But he couldn’t linger on the way your hips smoothed down to your thighs, or how that soft bump of your stomach looked above the apex of your legs. You deserved better than to be openly gawked at, he knew it.
“You don’t have to go out of your way for me.” He said, trying to remember what you were here for, what you were talking about, but then you stepped closer. Your arms crossed, pressing your chest together and up, a button of your blouse strained, but he refused to look. He decided to just look at your eyes.
As if that was any less distracting.
“Again, I wouldn’t offer if I was.” your voice softened to something smooth, “You’ve taken bullets for me and refuse to let me return the favour, the least I can do is get you a fresh coffee.”
He’d take more than bullets for you, he’d catch a grenade with his teeth if you asked him to and never ask for anything in return. He doubted he was the only one - surely he wasn’t the only one, not with how intense you made him feel.
“You could always buy me a drink instead.” he suggested, offering you a smirk. You looked at him and he couldn’t help how that look faded and was replaced by a real smile. You could strip away whatever womanising part of him was still left and render him a virgin cop-in-training any day of the week with nothing more than a whiff of the perfume you’d been using since you were nineteen.
“One of those fruity ones with a little umbrella and slice of lime?” You started to turn on your heel, thank god, and better yet replied to his quip with familiar and comfortable territory. He can do jokes in his sleep.
“Those are my favourites, now you’re talking dirty to me.” he said, attempting to make himself sound less like a pining fool as you walked away.
“I’ll make sure to add that to my usual order of scotch.” You threw back at him. He could feel his jaw grind behind his smile as you left him with the clack-clack of your heels and a perfect view of your swaying hips.
Yeah, Raccoon City was the worst day of his life, leaving him with day after day of trouble. But at least you were the good kind of trouble.
(You've come this far; remember to support the writing you love by giving a reblog <3)
Leon being competent at every mundane emergency is unfortunately hot
Dead battery? Fixed.
Leaking sink? Fixed.
Smoke detector starts chirping at 3 a.m.? He's already standing on a chair replacing the battery before you've fully opened your eyes, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips as he reaches up.
Flat tire? Fixed.
Power goes out during a storm? He has somehow produced flashlights from locations in the house you didn't know existed. Batteries fresh, and extras ready.
You wake up sick? There is water on the nightstand, medicine on the dresser, a trash can beside the bed, and he's quietly Googling whether soup actually helps or if that's just something people say.
He's not doing any of this in a flashy way. No smugness. No "good thing you have me." You just mention a problem and watch it vanish from the universe.
You say, "Hey, I think the faucet is dripping."
Three hours later the faucet is no longer dripping.
You don't even know where he went. You didn't see him buy parts. You didn't hear tools. You merely reported an issue and the issue ceased to exist.
Like some kind of government-funded household magician.
And he's so nice about it. You apologize for bothering him and he looks genuinely confused.
What do you mean bothering him? The thing was broken. Now it's not. This is, in his mind, a completely normal sequence of events.
The hottest thing about Leon is not that he can survive bioweapons and international conspiracies. It's that he approaches everyday inconveniences with the same intensity.
Your phone isn't charging correctly? He is troubleshooting.
Your grocery bag rips? He has already caught the falling items.
You lock yourself out of the house? He is somehow inside before you finish explaining what happened.
At some point you stop saying things like "Can you help me with this?"
Instead you just say, "Hey, this thing is doing a weird thing."
And then watch a thousand-yard stare settle into his eyes as a new mission objective appears.
The true fantasy isn't dating a super-agent.
The true fantasy is dating a man who hears "there's a weird noise coming from the washing machine" and responds with the same focus other men reserve for the birth of their first child.
And yes, the nightmare thing is part of it.
Because you'll wake up at 2 a.m. from some awful dream, disoriented and upset, and before you're even fully awake he's pulling you closer and mumbling, "You're okay. I've got you." Like he's personally prepared to fight your subconscious if necessary.
Government-issued husband behavior.
Taxpayer-funded boyfriend services.
A man whose primary love language is apparently identifying problems and eliminating them with extreme prejudice.
A/N: Unfortunately, I have once again mistaken trauma symptoms for personality traits and found them attractive. If a man says "I took care of it" and the problem is actually solved....well, I am a slut for that man then. Also, it's my birthday!! I am old :( and I plan to stay exactly this old for the next 20 years
summary: leon comes home from work exhausted, and all he wants is to go to bed, hold you close, and sleep, but something unexpected gets in the way.
pairing: leon!re4 x wife!reader
note: i love writing Leon as a girl dad 🥺
warnings: a bit of angst and guilt
✹ English isn’t my first language (I’m still learning), so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know nicely
🔮leon kennedy masterlist
Leon closed the door and locked it, dropped his keys into the bowl on the entryway dresser, took off his jacket as his bones cracked in protest, and hung it on the hook.
Today had been one of those awful workdays. Too much paperwork to fill out, and the report from his last mission had to be completed and submitted before midnight, which irritated him more than he cared to admit.
Over the past few days, he hadn’t been able to spend much time with his family. Work had kept piling things onto his desk ever since he returned. All he wanted was to be with his beautiful wife and his daughter.
But work always called.
The house was mostly dark at this hour, illuminated only by a few patches of moonlight. As soon as he slipped off his shoes, he headed toward the stairs, already thinking about wrapping his arms around you and relaxing for a brief moment.
“Daddy!”
A small voice stopped him before he could step onto the first stair. He looked up and found his four-year-old daughter sitting on the steps, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.
“Hey, ladybug, what are you doing awake?”
Concern immediately filled him as he watched his daughter stand and run over to hug his legs. Leon crouched down and wrapped his arms around her small body, lifting her into his arms.
“I had a nightmare.”
The little girl’s voice came out quietly, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. Leon’s heart tightened at the thought of his daughter’s sleep being haunted by bad dreams.
“Why didn’t you wake Mommy?” he asked as he stood up with her in his arms.
“I wanted it to be you.” Elise buried her face in her father’s neck, her voice muffled and even quieter now. “But you weren’t here, so I came out and waited for you.”
The ache in Leon’s chest only intensified.
He imagined his little girl waking up frightened, walking to his bedroom and not finding him there. Waiting for her father to come home from work so she could finally feel safe.
Damn.
He had come home very late. It was already past midnight, and his daughter had been awake the entire time.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here now.” Leon rubbed his daughter’s back, trying to find comfort for both her and himself. “Come on, I’ll put you back to bed.”
He climbed the stairs, walked down the dimly lit hallway, and entered the open pink-painted door that his daughter had insisted on having.
The room was partially dark. The nightlight, which Elise called the monster light, was on, giving Leon just enough visibility. He laid her down and tucked the blanket up to her neck before pressing a kiss to her forehead, hoping to make her feel more comfortable. Elise hugged her bunny tightly.
She loved when her father put her to bed, but lately he had been so busy with work that he rarely had time.
Of course she liked it when her mother tucked her in too, but with Leon it was different because he was hardly ever home, and Elise didn’t understand why her father couldn’t spend more time with her.
“Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?”
Elise looked at her father and nodded. “I dreamed that you got sick and died. I was really scared.”
Leon watched his daughter’s blue eyes fill with tears, and that alone was enough to make something inside him break.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Leon knew that every time he walked out the front door, the fear of not being able to return to his family was overwhelming. The thought that he might never see his daughter again terrified him.
And knowing that his daughter was having nightmares about it terrified him even more.
“None of that is going to happen.” He tried to reassure her, though it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself just as much. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Do you promise?”
Leon didn’t want to promise something he bitterly knew he might not be able to keep. But for his daughter, he would move heaven and earth. Smiling softly, he held out his pinky finger. His daughter immediately hooked hers around it, sealing the promise. “I promise.”
And with that small bit of reassurance, Leon was finally able to let his daughter fall asleep peacefully.
He stayed in her room for several minutes, watching Elise close her eyes and slowly surrender to sleep. Then he quietly left and headed to the bedroom he shared with you, ready to finally lie down.
Leon entered silently, changed into something more comfortable, and climbed into bed. Pulling you closer, he buried his face in your hair and breathed in your scent.
He knew he needed to spend more time with his family.
And he would try.
Because no matter how hard he tried to make it home in one piece, to his wife, to his daughter, to his home, he knew that one day he might not succeed.
And he feared that every single day.
But for now, as long as he could chase away his daughter’s nightmares, he would keep trying.
girl I have one req in mind so Leon and reader wants so get intimate but reader insecure about her 🐱(bush,having outtie,not pink etc.) so how would Leon react/comfort her?tysm already
a/n; this is so personal to me I can't even explain it. I live for this idea you don't get ittttt—I love you for this request 🙏🏻 I think re4!leon is the best for this—he's mature, well adjusted, likely has some experience under his belt, but he's still clueless enough as to why such "silly things" would bother women since he's never experienced the same kind of standards
sum; re4!leon and his gf who doesn't think leon will like what he finds when she finally lets him see her for the first time
content; protected sex, reader has a few specifications for visuals but only for her 🐈, insecure!reader, body praise, pussy pronouns??? is that what it's called??? never written for it but here it is, soft sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), leon is a sweetheart, aftercare
wc; 3.3k
Leon had proven he was an ideal man, even with all his troubles and baggage. He was kind, loving, supportive, strong, etc. The best you'd find nowadays without settling for a red flag. Despite leon proving his maturity and security over the last year of your relationship, you had refused to let him pleasure you. He was endlessly confused by it, always asking if you were sure, but he never pushed you. You'd give him head, jerk him off, but he had yet to return the favor of pleasure. You always reassured him that you were a giver, not a receiver. You got pleasure out of giving, is what you told him.
He never pushed. Never prodded for details. He simply accepted your preferences and took your word. Unbeknownst to him, it was getting hard to keep that up. Everytime you'd suck him off, or sit in his lap and let him grind at your clothed pussy til he came, it became harder not to ask for him to return the favor. Why didn't you?
Leon was clueless about why you never let him return the favor, but in recent weeks, he noticed something. He took note of everything. When you initiated something, you were more hesitant to deny his offer near the end. You were more insistent about him touching you—groping and kneading anywhere he could reach. But you still swore up and down that you didn't need it.
He wasn't having it now.
He had you in his lap, hands palming at your butt, keeping your hips in motion against his clothed length. He kissed gently along your neck, one hand creeping down to find the space between your thighs. Before he could touch you through your shorts, you shifted away, panting slightly as you looked at him, slightly dazed from the dry humping and heated kisses.
"What?" He mumbled. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just... relax. Let me d—"
"Let me do the work," he mocked faintly, face drooping slightly at the repetition of what you told him everytime he tried to reciprocate pleasure.
"Okay, that's.. a little mean." You laughed it off. "What's your deal?"
"You want it. You've been hesitant to let go lately. You've been more persistent about me touching you right." He said simply, gently lifting you off of his lap so neither of you could ignore the conversation with advances.
"What are you talking about?" You huffed quietly.
"You never let me see you or touch you in the same way you do to me."
"Because I don't need it." You tried to laugh it off again, scooting in closer. He stopped you.
"No. I want honesty. Why won't you let me return the favor and give you what you want?" He asked firmly, hands placed harshly on your thighs to keep you from moving.
"Leon, can we not do this? You know I like to give more than take." You looked away, shifting your body so you could close your legs and tuck them under your weight.
"Why?" He asked again.
You moved to get up, fully prepared to just go and finish yourself off in the shower and just ignore him, but he stopped you, hand over your wrist.
"How long have we been together?"
You blinked at him. "Two years?"
"Two years in two weeks. How long have we been getting intimate?"
"Uh.. a year?"
"And I've still never seen you naked."
"So?" You scoffed. "It's a preference, Leon."
"No, it's something else. You get scared when I ask you if you want me to help you out. If it's something trauma related, I want to know so I'm not accidently triggering something for you. If it's insecurity related, I need to know so that I can get that stupid shit out of your head. You have nothing to be insecure or afraid of." He spoke firmly, taking your hands into his as he shifted so you'd look at him.
"It's not.. it's not trauma. It just... looks weird, okay?" You finally spat out, brows furrowing.
"What does?"
"Everything. My body. My.." you exhaled heavily, frowning slightly as you looked down. "It's not appealing, Lee. It looks different than what I'm sure you've seen from other women."
"So?" He scoffed. "Babe," he lifted a hand to your cheek, letting you lean into the touch as he lifted your head. "I've seen a lot. I've only been with a few girls, and I've seen enough to know I don't give a damn."
"That doesn't—you don't understand. Most girls have an innie."
"A what now?" He blinked.
"Innie. You know, like belly buttons? They either protrude or are tucked away."
"Yes? What's that gotta do—oh. Oh."
"Yeah. Same thing happens with women's labia. It either stays nice and tucked away, or it poked out and looks weird. Even weirder if you've got a damn bush. Men don't like either, but the combination is even worse."
"I've seen that. Why's it matter? So long as I'm not opening myself up to an STD or a pussy with teeth inside, I don't see why the look of it matters." He looked genuinely dumbfounded. Not because he didn't understand the differences in women's bodies, but because he didn't understand the pressure you felt from yours looking different.
"It's not visually arousing!" You argued. "Guys in the past have made it clear that it's not very nice to look at. Even when I shaved—which I fucking hate doing."
"Listen to me." He cupped your face with both hands, leaning in for a quick kiss. "You are my girlfriend, and the woman I hope to call my wife someday, and if I'm lucky and I don't die before 35, I'd love to have some kids with you."
His words made your heart jolt, eyes widening slightly.
"All that said, I need you to understand that my love for you is bigger than what you look like." He leaned in to press your forehead to his. "If you truly don't want me to see you right now, then I won't push, but I need you to understand that you're the most beautiful woman I could have ever imagined I'd have the luck to be loved by."
"You swear on my life, your life, and our relationship that even if you don't like it, you wouldn't change your mind about me as a person?" You whispered quietly, lower lip quivering slightly from anxiety.
"I swear on everything. My life. Your life. Our relationship. My job. Our—"
You cut him off with a giggle, kissing him softly as you fell forward to hug him. "Okay, okay, no more swearing." You murmured, head falling to nuzzle into the side of his neck.
"Are you willing to let me see you tonight?" He asked softly, gently brushing your hair back and holding you tenderly as he scooted you back into his lap.
"Just... be warned." You pulled back, that shy look returning. "I haven't shaved. Or trimmed. In a while." Your voice returned to a quiet whisper.
Leon chuckled, lips curling into a mischievous grin. "A man fears no bush." He leaned in for another kiss, deeper this time. It took a minute of coaxing, but once your body gave in, you let him turn around and lay you down, his lips glued to yours the entire way down.
"You," you muttered, his lips interrupting you. "are so cheesy." You finished, making him laugh quietly.
"Be glad I didn't make a jungle joke. Or a Jumanji reference."
"Don't make me change my mind." You deadpanned.
"Alright, alright, no more jokes. Just focusing on my pretty lady." He dipped his head down and kissed his way down your body, stopping once he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you one more time, waiting for you to nod before he gently tugged the fabric down, your panties coming down with the shorts.
You closed your eyes, tight as you subconsciously held your breath. You expected a noise. A face. Anything to express dislike. But all that came was a shuddery breath and a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He sucked a light bruise into your thigh, moving onto the other one, repeating the process until he felt satisfied. Your head lifted and your eyes opened to look at him, finding him already looking up at you as his lips worked their way back up your thighs, stopping merely an inch from where you needed him most.
"Whoever convinced you that this was unattractive must have not liked pussy." He said bluntly, and before you could even laugh or tell him he was a doofus, his tongue was licking a long, flat stripe between your folds, making you gasp and quiver at the sensation.
"Leon," you breathed, head falling back against the pillow.
"Shh, 's okay," he uttered, tongue finding your clit with ease before he took the tiny nub between his lips and suckled gently. You squeaked, hips jolting. "Fuck," he cursed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "She's fuckin' sopping, baby." He pulled back just far enough to take a better look, two fingers coming to gently spread your folds so he could see the wetness that had accumulated from simply dry humping and some nasty kisses.
"Lee," you whined. "Don't do that." You tried to reach down to hide yourself, pouting in embarrassment.
"No, no, not a chance." He grabbed your hand and held it down, shaking his head. "I've waited this long, I'm not letting you hide from me. Not when she's waiting so patiently for me. Don't you wanna give your pretty pussy what she's been fucking aching for?"
His words made your body shake slightly, pussy clenching around nothing. He could feel it, his lips curling upward with satisfaction. "Just.. don't stare like that. Please?"
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it." He promised, leaning back in to let his tongue circle your hole, only to delve in and get a proper, pure taste of you. His eyes rolled back, a low groan leaving him as he listened to you try to stifle your pitchy sounds. His tongue retracted and licked smoothly up to your clit and focused there. He repeated that pattern for a while until he felt you were ready for a little more. With his mouth still torturing your clit, he inserted two fingers, cautious but confident.
"O-oh, Leon," you gasped softy, back arching eagerly into his touch. He pumped two fingers back and forth ever so gently, slow in his need to build up and prepare you. His mouth pulled from your clit with a lewd slurp, only for him to lean in with soft, sweet kitten licks, making you twitch and grind up against his ministrations.
"She's so good already—so perfect," he purred, kissing his way up your body and finding your lips as he slowly increased the pace and curled his fingers, eliciting a gasp and a pitchy, drawn out moan from you. "You're so beautiful." He breathed, leaning in for a deeper kiss to get you distracted and eased so you weren't concerned about his opinions.
Leon worked you all the way to the edge, getting you to melt into his arms and accept the pleasure without worry, and just as you dug your nails into his arms, he eased to a stop, fingers retracting gently. You blinked up at him, panting quietly.
"Why did you—"
"That was just the appetizer." He purred, settling comfortably between your legs as he kissed your jawline. "Now I've gotta give you the real deal. Is that okay with you?" He asked softly, his clean hand gently soothing up and down your hip.
"Yeah, yeah, that's.. that's okay." You breathed, swallowing harshly as you watched him lean over to the nightstand to retrieve a condom. You opened your mouth to ask when he bought those, but you halted as he undid his pants and pushed them down. He opened the condom and rolled the pre-lubed material down his length, giving himself a couple of strokes before he lined himself up with your entrance.
"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" He asked, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. You gave a slight nod, gaze downward to watch as he slowly pushed inward, a slow moan drawing out from his throat. You hissed, but urged him to continue as you eased yourself to relax around his girth. He brought a hand down to gently massage your clit, his other hand pushing your shirt upward to grope and knead your breast, pinching gently at your nipple.
You mewled softly as he bottomed out, his cock filling you perfectly. Your thighs trembled, body aching beneath him. Not painfully, but rather with desire. You'd used toys before, obviously, given you'd been satisfying yourself for so long, but nothing compared to being in his hold, his hands all over you, and his cock filling you up like he was meant to.
"You okay?" He asked softly, thumb expertly circling your clit and allowing you to twitch and relax around him as you adjusted to his girth.
"Yeah," you breathed, eyelids falling shut with a blissful sigh leaving your lips. "You can move if you want. I don't need that long to adjust." You mumbled.
"Well, thanks to society, I know nothing about my girlfriend's body or her limits, so it'll take a while for me not to treat you like a porcelain doll." He mumbled, leaning to for a slow, easy kiss as his cock dragged backward halfway, then eased back in. He took his hand off your breast and reached to take your hand in his, holding it with the utmost care as he worked his hips back and forth slowly. It wasn't loud, wasn't rough, wasn't fast. It wasn't like any of the videos or standards you'd grown to think it'd be like.
He was slow, cautious yet confident, caring with every move, attentive to every little noise and movement of your body. His attentiveness almost made your heart squeeze whenever he'd stop entirely if you gave a sound that seemed pained rather than pleased. He was prepared to stop for any reason whatsoever.
"Don't let anyone ever tell you you're undesirable." He whispered softly, his hand leaving your clit so he could gently hold your face and let you lean into the touch. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm a goddamn fool for you." He lifted your chin for another kiss, a little faster this time.
You moaned softly, back arching. Your free hand came to rest at the back of Leon's neck, fingers carding softly through the bottom of his hair as his hips remained slow and steady. "You can go faster. Please, go faster, Lee." You begged softly, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him closer.
"Whatever you want, baby." He did as told, hips gradually speeding up to a maintained pace. Each thrust inward, his tip grazed that spongy spot inside of you, pushing squeaks and gasps and moans from your throat as your body began to bounce with the new speed.
"Oh, fuck," you gasped, back arching as your head fell back, nails digging into his hand and the nape of his neck. "Lee!" You squealed, thighs quivering. "'M sss—so close," your words were drawn out with pitchy moans. Leon's hand left your cheek and came down to fondle with your breast again, switching between the two mounds as he watched them bounce and jolt with each pump of his cock.
"Go on, baby. Take it. Fuck—she's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight." He hissed, brows furrowing slightly as he fought to maintain his pace and rhythm to keep you on the incline to pleasure. Instead of letting him explore your body with his free hand, you reached eagerly to grab it, searching for every bit of reassurance that he truly was here, genuinely enjoying himself, and it wasn't just another dream.
"Lee—Leon!" You choked.
"Cum for me. Please. Cum on my cock. Let me feel your pretty pussy fuckin' milk me." He begged, leaning in for a sloppy kiss as you finally let loose, body twitching and locking up momentarily before it eased into a limp mess. You heaved, barely mustering the focus and energy to return his hungry kiss as he fucked you through your orgasm, meeting his own moments later. With a deep grunt, he filled the condom, lips falling open in a breathy, choked, drawn out whiney moan as he let your cunt convulse and encourage every last bit of his cum to spill into the condom.
He slowly eased out of you, trying not to collapse on top of you as he rushed to discard the condom in the bedside trashcan—it was almost full, so he'd get rid of it later. Once discarded, he let himself fall into you, engulfing you in his embrace from above. His arms went around your waist, pulling you into him as he snuggled his face into the side of your neck, letting you catch your breath as he mouthed softly at the flesh he could reach. His hands soothed gently along your back, tickling your sides with his feathery touch.
Once your breathing evened out, Leon slipped and laid on your side, pulling you onto your side and into him. "You still there, baby?" He asked softly, brushing your hair away from your face to find you looking up at him.
"Yeah. 'Course I am." You whispered, watching him chuckle softly.
"There's my girl. You feel okay?" He mused quietly, fingertips gently carding through your hair and massaging your scalp.
"Feel good." You exhaled, head falling forward against his chest.
"Hey," he tilted your head back, making you look back up at him. "Don't do that again."
"What?" You frowned, sleep lacing your features.
"Hide from me. Never again. Promise me, baby." He paused, eyes softening as they looked into yours. "Promise me that whatever you're afraid of, whatever comes between you and your comfort or your happiness, you won't hide from me again." His hand came to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.
"I didn't.. I didn't know it would be such a big deal for you. I'm sorry." You leaned in and hid in his chest, feeling him exhale.
"I'm not mad." He laughed a little. "I just need you to know you're safe here. No judgment, no secrets, no need to be afraid. Ever." He curled around you, letting you stay in your comfortable hiding spot.
"I promise. I'll do better about it." You nodded, pressing a small kiss to his chest, right where you could hear and feel his heartbeat.
"I love you. More than anything imaginable."
"I love you, too, Lee."
"You wanna sleep now?"
"Mmh, I have to pee first." You groaned, uncomfortable and groggy.
"Go on, then. I'll swap the sheets and get you some water." He slowly pulled away, helping you out of the bed and parting after a sweet kiss so you could go about your business while he fixed up the messy sheets.
Upon wiping yourself up, now washing your hands, you groaned quietly. "Leeee?" You called, emerging from the bathroom and peeking into the bedroom.
He walked back into the bedroom with two bottles of water and a makeshift snack plate with crackers, fruit, and some chocolate. "Yeah?" He bumped the door shut, a piece of candy already in his mouth, making his cheek puff out slightly. Likely one of those old person candies he liked—butterscotch or the hard strawberry candies.
"Oh, I'm so in love with you." You grinned, meeting him halfway and eagerly kissing him. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to make some food but you read my mind."
"Sex makes me hungry." He shrugged, but smiled at your affection as he led you back to the clean bed.
"Well, normally you aren't doing the work." You giggled.
"Yeah, but now I am, and I'm really hungry." He crawled into the bed and pulled you in to follow, plate held off to the side as he tugged you into his lap.
"Love you." He purred, hugging you tight with his free arm.
Summary: You have a routine of writing Leon love letters.
Pairing: re2!Leon x gf!reader
WC/Tags: 1,616 / tooth rotting fluff, love letters, Leon being smitten
A/N: inspired by ‘he’s my dreamboat’ by Connie Francis, for day 5 of @swoon-june ‘love letters’
You chew at the knub of your pen, staring down at the blank piece of scrap paper in front of you. Leon is going to be up for work any second, the hands of the clock ticking closer and closer to 6:30am, his wake up time everyday. His lunch is packed, thermos filled and sitting on the counter beside the keys to his car. All that’s missing now is your love note.
Once a week, you write Leon love letters. You made it a routine after telling him you loved him for the first time, in the dark of your living room after a heated makeout session. You had told him you loved him, that you were in love with him and it scared you that you were only a little over a year into your relationship and you felt like this, but he had said it back quickly, had cupped your face and smiled so wide it looked like it had ached.
Afterward, when he went to answer the delivery at your front door, you had scribbled a little note, ily with a heart under it and had stuffed it in his jacket pocket. The next day he had called you, saying that finding the love letter had been the highlight of his morning.
That was nearly six months ago, and it was a routine you both loved.
You rarely kept it the same, leaving love letters in his cup holder or under his keys. Beside his tooth brush or tucked into his shoes. You liked to change it up, to keep the surprise going, and Leon loved every bit of it.
You also changed what you wrote. Sometimes they were silly, little doodles of hearts and clouds and flowers with fluffy words. Other times they were bone deep, your affection for him rooted in words you struggled to say aloud.
Now as you stare at the blank paper, your mind goes the same; blank. Nothing newly astounding had happened, nothing that needed extra tenderness, but you wanted to do this for him all the same.
You tap the pen against your lip, frowning at the paper. No grand moments to write about, no first kiss anniversary, no “I'm so proud of you” for passing a test or landing a new job. Just… him. Your Leon. The one who leaves his socks in weird places and hums off-key in the shower and always remembers your coffee order.
A small smile tugs at your mouth.
You grab another sheet, crinkled notebook paper, and start drawing: tiny stick figures holding hands under a lopsided sun with rays like fireworks. One has blonde hair, spiky, messy. The other wears glasses, round frames slightly askew. Above them: “Good morning my favorite cop. Thank you for coming home every night.”
Folding it, you press your lips to the paper and slip it inside his lunch box before standing to grab your own mug of coffee. You’re halfway through with it when Leon stumbles into the kitchen, his uniform crisp but his eyes bleary, a little sleep ridden.
“Well hello sleepy head,” you laugh, putting down your mug. “Sure you’re awake?”
Leon blinks at you like he’s seeing sunlight for the first time, hair sticking up in three different directions. He shuffles forward barefoot, uniform perfectly ironed but clearly slept on, his tie a little loose and one button undone.
“Mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Without missing a beat, he leans down and kisses you right on the lips. A soft one, slow and sweet despite how half-asleep he looks. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes slowly focusing now that coffee scent is hitting him full force.
“I’m awake,” he lies through a yawn before reaching past you to grab your mug, not his, and taking a long sip of your coffee like it belongs to him too, which you supposed it does. “I’m up.”
“Sure you are,” you giggle as you study him, and reach up to flatten his hair. “I made your lunch and coffee, it’s on the counter.”
That quiet little joy flashes across his face, the one that only shows when you do something small but so meaningful to him. He turns toward the counter, still cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline.
He sees the thermos first, steam faintly rising, and picks it up, twisting off the lid to sniff. Black coffee. Just how he likes it. No sugar. Then he spots his lunchbox, the bright blue one with dog bones printed on the sides, a gift from you after adopting Rover. His chest tightens just looking at it.
Setting both items down, Leon turns back to you. In two strides, arms are around your waist and pulling you into another kiss, this time deeper, as if every morning could start like this forever.
You hum against him, eyes fluttering shut faintly. He tastes like his tooth paste and your coffee and if his job wasn’t so important you’d ask him to stay.
“You’re going to be late.” You murmur, lips parting as you speak and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue along your bottom lip.
He does, a teasing brush of his tongue that sends warmth blooming down your neck. Leon’s never been in a hurry with you. Even when he should be rushing, like now, uniform half-tied and badge still hanging loose on its lanyard, he lingers.
But the clock ticks.
A distant part of him knows this: patrol shift starts at 7:30 sharp. Chief Daniels has already given him one warning about tardiness after last month’s rain delay, not that it was his fault.
Still, he nips gently at your lip before pulling back just enough to rest his nose against yours again, breathing you in like oxygen.
“I hate mornings,” he whispers hoarsely, and then steals one more kiss because screw punctuality for thirty seconds. “When I have to leave you.”
“But you come back.” You reply and grin, your hand cupping the back of his neck to play with the blonde hair there. “I have to get ready for work too.”
He steps away from your hold, grabbing his keys and coffee in one hand and his lunch box in the other. “See you tonight?”
You nod as you follow him to the front door, placing your hand on the knob. “Should be back by five.”
“I’ll see you at five then.” Leon’s grin is boyish as you open the door, holding it for him. He dips down, kissing you once and you inhale him, the pressure of his mouth on yours like clouds.
Leon steps out first, boots hitting the porch with a quiet thud. He turns back just once before heading to his squad car, a black-and-white RPD cruiser parked at the curb, and gives you that smile. That Leon smile: bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hair messy from your fingers.
He raises his coffee in a silent toast to you as he walks away.
You watch him go, the way he adjusts his vest strap while walking like it's second nature now after months on patrol duty; how carefully he places both items into their designated spots inside that pristine vehicle; even how neatly folded down those stupid little air fresheners hang from rearview mirrors, you teased him for putting one up.
When he reverses you give him a little wave and vaguely through the glass you can see him wave back. As you close the door, you realize you’re grinning, again. You always seem to be when it comes to him.
Rinsing out your coffee cup, you stare out the sink window, wondering when he’ll find the note, and wondering if it’ll make him smile. You smile to yourself at the thought.
-
Leon sips from the lip of his mug carefully as he turns into the station before throwing the car into park. Twisting his neck to stretch, he gets out, gathering his items before walking in. He’s greeted by his coworkers and he nods to them, his hair bouncing with the movement before he makes it to his locker. When he opens it, he takes in the picture of you and him on Fourth of July, a sparkler in your hand and a grin on your face. It’s infectious, the way you look when you’re happy.
He places his keys on the hook before opening his lunch box to survey the contents. A sandwich, probably ham, a yogurt and a bag of nuts, with a disposable spoon tucked in the corner.
There’s another item tucked into the side though, and he fingers the paper before pulling it out.
The note is slightly crumpled from being wedged beside the yogurt, but carefully folded, neat creases like you took time with it. Leon’s breath hitches just a little.
He recognizes your handwriting immediately: that loopy G in ‘Good morning,’ the heart-shaped dot over the i.
His fingers smooth out the paper as he unfolds it, and there they are, the stick figures under their wonky sun. He stares at them for a solid five seconds, lips parting into that soft expression you exude from him.
One of his fellow officers passes by and gives him a knowing look. “Love letter?”
Leon doesn’t even snap back or play it cool like usual, he just nods once, quietly proud about something so simple as his girlfriend loving him enough to draw silly hearts on paper every week.
He tucks it gently into his breast pocket, right over where his badge sits, and closes up his lunchbox with new energy, and a grin pulling at his mouth.
x
Divider @pixopix 
AO3 link
Leon K taglist: @yours-truly-andrea @causeofmykoophoria
Pairing: Re2r Leon x barista!reader (ft. Chris, Claire, Jill and Carlos)
Genre: Non zombie AU, Chaotic friendship social media AU, romcom, friends to lovers
Warnings: None!
Plot: After accidentally stealing Leon’s hoodie from the staff room one too many times, the entire café starts teasing you about it nonstop. What’s supposed to be harmless joking gets infinitely worse when a customer casually assumes you and Leon are dating, and neither of you denies it fast enough.
A/N: Hey! New chapter finally able 🫶🏻 hope you guys enjoy it ❤️
P. S: Today I had to post earlier again, tomorrow we’ll go back to normal schedule 🫶🏻
Taglist: @ghostieistiredd @shu-leepy @beautifulavenuefun @itsemy01 @ghostlytouya @kkittykiss @geguji-art @kl0ngski3 @like-gh0sts-in-sn0w @rednnedy @graceashcroftsgirl @symphony4444 @lux-maimai @lencix346 Let me know if you want to be added!
Previous chapter --- Masterlist --- Next chapter
Summary: you hear a bump in the night and call your neighbor to come check it out.
Words: 1k
You're standing in your kitchen, ridiculous yellow gloves on while you scrub a particularly stubborn plate. Then you think you hear it. You turn the sink water off, turning your head like trying to catch a signal.
The first sound is small. Too small to mean anything on its own. A soft scrape somewhere in the house that makes you pause mid-scrub, dish still in your hand, suddenly very aware of how quiet everything else is.
Then it happens again. Closer this time.
Your stomach drops before your mind catches up. You don’t think. You just move. You pull your phone out of your back pocket as you back up to the kitchen counter, sinking into a squat against it.
While you're whispering to yourself that it’s probably nothing, the house settling, a branch, anything normal, your fingers are already dialing.
You don't know why you're calling your neighbor. Even though he's a big, buff, federal agent, you two aren't that close. But your body recognizes where safety is in a moment of crisis.
Leon answers on the second ring.
“Yeah.”
It’s all he says at first.
And somehow that steadiness is what breaks you out of your paralysis.
“I think someone’s in my house,” you say, voice too tight, too fast. “I heard something. I don’t–I don’t know.”
His tone instantly shifts.
“Lock yourself in a room. Now.”
You’re already moving.
“Bedroom,” he adds. “Door locked. Stay on the line.”
You do as you’re told without question, because there’s something about the way he speaks that doesn’t leave space for hesitation. The line stays open while you sit on the edge of your bed, listening to your own breathing and the faint, distant sound of your house feeling wrong.
“Leon,” you whisper after a moment. “I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You did the right thing,” he says immediately.
Nothing extra, just certainty.
Minutes later, you hear another sound outside. Not inside your house this time. A car door shutting too firmly. Footsteps on gravel.
Your phone crackles slightly as he says, “I’m here.”
You hear the front door open.
“Hey,” his voice calls out, lower now, closer in real space than the phone. “It’s me.”
His boots make their way to your bedroom. A soft knock follows.
“You in there?”
“Yeah,” you shout back, fiddling with the lock.
When the door opens, Leon steps in like he belongs there. His eyes are scanning, posture already assessing every corner of the room before they land on you.
Nothing about him is rushed. That’s the first thing your body registers. Like the world can be falling apart, but he’s already decided how to stand between you and it.
“It’s okay,” he says again, quieter this time.
You shake your head.
“I thought…I thought someone was–”
“I know.”
He doesn’t let you finish the spiral. Just closes the distance carefully, stopping close enough that you can feel his presence without him crowding you.
“I checked the house,” he adds. “Front, back, windows. Nothing’s broken. Nobody’s inside.”
Your breath catches like your body doesn’t quite believe it yet.
Leon watches you for a second longer, then says, “You’re safe.”
You force out a short breath, a sheepish smile crawling onto your face. You scratch your cheek with trembling fingers.
A nervous habit.
“Well that's embarrassing,” you say softly.
“Hey.”
You look up.
“If you hear something again,” he says, “you call me sooner.”
You can feel it once the adrenaline fades. Embarrassment rushes in to take its place.
Your hands twist together in your lap. “God, I’m sorry. I probably freaked out over nothing.”
Leon doesn’t accept the premise. He just leans against the doorframe, still half in assessment mode, like he’s making sure your fear doesn’t come back the second he leaves.
“It wasn’t nothing to you,” he says.
You huff out a small, awkward laugh. “Still. I made you come over here for basically… paranoia.”
“You didn’t make me do anything.”
There’s no annoyance in it.
You're still embarrassed.
You glance at him, then away again, heat creeping up your neck.
“I feel like I should make it up to you.”
That gets a faint shift in his expression. Subtle curiosity.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” you say quickly. “But I want to.”
He studies you for a second like he’s deciding whether to argue further. Then he doesn’t.
“Okay,” he says simply. “How.”
You blink, thrown.
“Uh.”
The seriousness of him makes your brain scramble for something equally serious. Something appropriate. Something adult and neighborly.
And then, because your brain betrays you in moments like this, you say, “Do you like pie?”
That earns the slightest pause.
Leon’s mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.
“Pie.”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” he says finally, like he’s confirming a detail in a report.
Relief loosens your shoulders immediately.
“Good. Okay. I can do pie. I can definitely do pie. It’s like the least weird thank-you food.”
“I wouldn’t call it weird.”
“That sounded like you almost did.”
“I was considering it.”
You laugh, properly this time. It surprises you how easy it is around him, even after something like tonight.
Leon pushes off the doorframe a little.
“You don’t have to pay me in pie for checking your house.”
“I’m not paying you,” you insist. “I’m… expressing gratitude. With baked goods. Very normal human behavior.”
He nods once. “Understood.”
That makes you smile again, softer now. Less frantic.
“Okay,” you say. “Then it’s settled. Pie.”
Leon hesitates like he’s about to refuse out of principle, then doesn’t.
“Alright,” he says. Then, quieter, almost like an afterthought: “What kind.”
You blink. Almost smile.
“Apple,” you say. “Is that okay?”
Leon considers it with the same seriousness he gave your broken locks and your fear.
“Yeah.” He nods his head. “I like apple.”
Something about the way he says it, simple and unguarded, makes the whole moment feel different.
Not just a rescue or neighborly obligation. More like the beginning of something. Something unspoken but shared.
You nod, smiling a little to yourself.
“Okay. Then I’ll make you apple pie.”
Leon straightens slightly, like the conversation has officially concluded in his head, but he doesn’t leave immediately. Instead, he glances at you once more.
“You’re okay now?” he asks.
You think about it. Then nod.
“Yeah,” you say. “I think I am.”
He holds your gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“Good,” he says.
And this time, when he finally turns to go back outside into the night, it doesn’t feel like he’s just your neighbor anymore.
A/N: I love the stoic awkwardness at the end. Leon 'I can't let myself enjoy something that I think I might really enjoy' Kennedy, everybody
leon, who has a crush on you but refuses to admit that he has a crush on someone as a full grown man, who brings you breakfast each morning because you always have a sour look on your face when you get a stomachache from having nothing but a coffee.
leon who passes by your office to "ask you a question about this report," sees that your mug is running low, and makes you another coffee without asking, just the way you like it.
leon who waits for you at the end of the day, even if he's supposed to have gone home hours ago, just so he can walk you to your car. because the smile you give him when you say thank you is what gets him up and into the office each morning. and maybe he's hoping that one day he'll have enough courage to meet it with a kiss.
the s stands for service. leon [acts of] service kennedy
hangout w me~! @leonsbestgirl - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
