Rue's Hiding Spot

She/her 🐰 // MDNI 💿🌷

[if-dreams-do-come-true]

Resident Evil DILF Death Island

Leon S Kennedy’s “Guns”

[babyeaglee]

[sonarspace]

could you do soft smut of needy re9 leon w erectile dysfunction wanting oral while on the couch in his gf's company🙏

❦ cw. 18+. established relationship. slightly insecure leon. oral (m! receiving).

an. sorryyy for the late response i’ve been busy 💔. but this was so much fun. hope you enjoy, anon <33

“i’m sorry,” he says. his voice a little tight around the edges. "i don't know why i can't just—" he trails off.

“i even took a pill earlier,” he admits, vulnerably.

“hey” you put a warm hand on his chest. “it's okay. it's been a long week for you.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. just exhales through his nose, which is leon for i know and i hate it. he’d come home days ago from a mission that had gone sideways and he hadn’t really slept since. you watched him carry the weight of it, the guilt of whatever happened sitting heavy on him. and now this.

he wanted to have a nice night with you. something simple and good after a week that had been neither. and you can see what it's doing to him, the way he's folding inward, adding it to the pile of things he's decided are his fault.

you push him back against the couch gently and he lets you, watching you with his chest tight, and when you start to reach for him he opens his mouth to stop you.

“you don't have to—“

“shh. let me,” you murmur.

and then your hands are on him and leon has to close his eyes for a second because the alternative is watching you and he's not sure he can handle that right now.

you take him out and wrap your hand around him and he's soft and he knows and the shame of it sits hot in his throat. but you don't stop. you don't make a face. you don't say anything at all, just work him with your palm, spreading the bead of wetness at his tip down his length until he's slick under your fingers. he feels himself start to respond, slowly, the relief of it washes over him all at once making his eyes sting.

then your mouth is on him and he exhales a low grunt, hand hovering uselessly at his side. you run your tongue along his length, trace the veins, lips wrapping around his tip, tongue pressing flat against the slit, and he feels himself hardening properly in your mouth, getting thick and heavy on your tongue. the wet sounds fill the quiet of the room and his breath goes ragged and uneven above you. you reach up, find his hand and guide it into your hair. holding them in place for a second so he understands.

he understands.

his grip tightens slowly. tentative at first, then sure, and you hum around him and he groans, gravelly and low, hips shifting forward without permission. he guides you gently, finding a rhythm, and all that pent up tension releases out of him at once. you take him deeper and a gruff curse leaves him, head dropping back, the hand in your hair tightening as your mouth get sloppier, more obscene, and his breathing breaks into short rough exhales.

he's close. so close. he tugs at your hair gently.

“wait,” he groans. “i want to be inside you when i—”

you pull back and look up at him. with softnes. your eyes glazing.

“i want to taste you,” you say simply.

“i might not get hard again,” he says. his eyes searching yours. “and i really want to be inside you.”

“you will.” you press a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “let me have a taste first. then you can have me.”

he stares at you for a moment, chest heaving, and nods.

“okay,” he exhales deeply. “okay.”

you take him back into your mouth and he tips his head back, the sounds he had been holding back finally spilling out of him. his hand stays in your hair, guiding, and you let him, taking everything he gives you until his hips stutter and his grip tightens and he comes with a low broken grunt, spilling hot white spurts down your throat, thighs trembling on either side of you.

you swallow and look up at him. he looks down at you, chest still heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes tired and grateful. you smile up at him and he reaches down and cups your face in both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“thank you,” he says.

“my pretty girl,” he murmurs with adoration.

he pulls you up into his lap and kisses you, his tongue meeting yours, and he tastes himself lingering in your mouth, hands still cradling your face. and it’s right there in the middle of it, pressed flush against him, that you feel him hardening against your stomach.

you both pull back at the same time and look down.

then back up at each other.

you both laugh, his forehead dropping to yours, his chest shaking against you. he loved these moments with you more than he ever said out loud.

“told you,” you say with a smug smile.

“yeah,” he hums, still smiling. and kisses you again.

[brilcrist]

Since most people already got their packages. I can now post the "Good Morning, Mr Kennedy" postcard artwork bonuses, in here~

Enjoy😘

[tianhai03]

he just like me fr

[halbravd]

damn congratulations to whoever’s bouncing on it

[starsea7er]

Thank you 😍😍😍

[starsea7er]

I've never been skinny and confident of my own body my entire life and I think that influences really deeply on how i feel about intimacy and relationship 🥲.

I mean, I've never been in any stage of relationship, situationship, or anything alike, but sometimes when I'm thinking about it or reading fanfictions, I just don't think I deserve to be treated so lovingly like that yk?? Like.... poor Leon and my other fictional men to be with me in my imaginations I guess 😭😭

[lanadelreyylover]

Oblivion

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: Leon's obsession with you pushes him to new extremes...and you like it? Word Count: 2.4k Tags: stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, somnophilia vibes, yandere Leon

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie@venus-in-roses

based on this request

Leon

It was serendipitous, really, how the two of you met. A coffee shop of all places, where your knuckles brushed up against his when you both reached for your drinks at the same time. Like some god forsaken rom-com.

You wrapped those pretty pink lips around the mouth of the cup’s lid, and it only took one sip to realize that the bitter dark roast scalding your tongue was not the vanilla latte, extra sweet, you had ordered at the register. 

The baristas had switched up your drinks, scribbling your name on his black coffee and his on your sugary delight. He gave you the drink–your drink–in his hand, untouched and unsipped, and you apologized to him in that honeyed voice of yours, offering to walk up to the counter and ameliorate the mishap with a fresh cup on you. 

He didn’t let you pay for another cup of coffee, however, coming up with the age-old excuse of running late for work, which he was, to hide the fact that he was perfectly content to drink from the same lid your luscious mouth had touched. A smudge of glittery lipgloss he couldn’t wait to kiss. 

You giggled as you accepted his counter-offer of giving him your number, and you scribbled the digits on a napkin, signing it with your name and a dainty heart beside it. 

He swore he could still smell your perfume, lingering in his nostrils for days after the encounter. And every time he shut his lids, for a split second or for the five hours he attempted what he once knew as sleep, he saw your face. That angelic glow of your skin. The way your smile was so wide it made lines appear by your eyes. And your eyes…

So he took you out on a proper date. Dinner under candlelight. A nightcap at a gelato shop your friend or coworker–he can’t remember who–recommended. It wasn’t until your third rendez-vous, a walk around the park during his lunch break because he couldn’t wait for the word day to be over to see you again, when he noticed it. The stares. Leon was a handsome man, and he had experienced his fair share of ogling glances from men and women alike. But this time? These onlookers weren’t staring at him. They were staring at you. 

You’re stunning, so of course you would draw attention. A few women muttered twinkling comments in passing. An elderly woman told Leon he was a lucky man to have such a gorgeous woman on his arm. It was all fine and dandy, and in fact, Leon liked it. It filled him with the bubbling warmth of pride. You were his, though he hadn’t explicitly told you yet, and you were beautiful–so beautiful that you made people stop what they were doing to comment on it.

Keep it coming, he thought.

But then a man walking his dog (that you reached down to pet, silly girl), wearing a band on his ring finger, which he tried to hide when he approached–bastard– and complimented you on your “out of this world” good looks. 

A predator. A person like that–a man who would walk up to a woman who was so obviously involved with someone, that someone holding her hand–was dangerous. He was bold. And Leon wasn’t going to risk bumping into him on another lap around the pond. 

“Let me walk you back to your office,” he suggested with a smile. 

He fell hard. Like Alice down the rabbit hole. Bruised and battered. Dumb, drunk, and loopy in love. 

Leon would trip every time the two of you stayed up till the witching hour, laughing and talking, exchanging stories of your respective upbringings, the heroic tales of his scars, how you hate your boss and your job and your coworkers, except for one who you get along with very well. You’d tell him about your college days and how you don’t know why you ended up with a dead-end job with no time for the hobbies you oh-so adore as someone with a degree and a steady head on her shoulders. And he’d tell you about how he ended up working for the government, the two of you bonding over broken plans and dreams that never came to fruition.

He’d tumble when you’d scream his name as his tongue lapped at your pussy, sopping wet and dripping just for him. Or when you’d ride him until he was seizing and crying beneath you. 

And he just kept falling. 

A sick little puppy he was, with all that love and no idea how to express it in a healthy way, or so his therapist said. The watching came first. He’d follow you home from work to make sure you arrived at your apartment safely, and around the grocery store just in case some pervert got the wrong idea and tried to talk you up in the canned goods aisle. 

When he actually had to work and didn’t have enough time to properly devote to your guard, he installed the cameras. One in your living room, another in your bedroom, two covering every inch of the hallway between them–one of those facing the front door. They were miniscule, cutting-edge scions of technology. Undetectable. 

He’d watch you from the device they came with, having it on-hand throughout the day, only turning it off when you were changing. Leon respected your boundaries, of course. He wasn’t a freak. 

He just wanted to make sure you were safe and his.

You were a bit of a loner, just like he was, and he preferred it that way. No risk of any man swooping in to bump him out of the competition. He did have to worry about predators, however, because you were…naive. Too trusting. You’d smile at strangers, divulge personal information to people you’d only known for a day, and as charming as that was, Leon knew the dangers it could bring. 

One afternoon, a handyman came by to fix your cable–something about wireless interference that made your television spaz. Leon was watching through the cameras, the device they were connected to propped up on his desk as he tapped away at his computer. Hunnigan had interrupted, knocking on his door to chat about some upcoming assignment he was sure to be put on, he wasn’t really paying attention toward the end of her spiel. Not when there was a strange man in your apartment, and especially not when the cameras had cut to static mid-conversation, and Leon had to muster all the strength in his body not to storm out of the office right then and there. 

As soon as the clock struck five, he went straight from work to your place, where you opened the door with a cheshire grin on your lips, extra syrupy sweet when you locked eyes with him, and it washed away all his worries. Just seeing you, in your comfy clothes, completely at peace. It calmed his anxious heart. 

Still, anything could have happened to you. Some old, most likely perverted man in your home, with you looking practically edible in those yoga pants…

He couldn’t stand you being so far away, so vulnerable. He had to do something about that. Now.

“Good day at work?” You asked from the kitchen as you prepared dinner for two. 

“This place is kind of dingy, don’t you think?” He retorted, changing the subject. You chuckle and mutter something to yourself. 

“I  make you dinner and you insult my home? Not very nice manners you have there, mister.” 

So cheeky. It makes his stomach flutter. He rises from the sofa, huffing a laugh as he steps toward the kitchen, settling on the other side of the counter so he can watch you gracefully chop a bell pepper.

“Oh, you know, I was just thinking. Maybe you’d wanna quit this place and move in with me?” 

You swallow hard, your body tensing, and you set the knife down on the cutting board, your eyes falling with the blade. 

“Oh,” is all you give him, the tone of your voice undistinguishable. “Wow, that’s…wow.” 

“You were telling me how awful your landlord is, raising your rent without warning like that,” he reminds subtly. “What do you say?”

The unreadable expression on your face suddenly contorts into a smile, and you remove your hands from the counter to rest them on your hips. “When can I move in?”

Your job came next. It wasn’t hard for Leon to convince you to finally leave, especially when you were living with him, using the groceries he bought you, wearing the new clothes he surprised you with, not needing to worry about contributing a cent. So you put in your two-weeks notice, and every time you mentioned something about finding another job so you could pull your weight, he would quickly change the subject, or reassure you that he can take care of you both and more if need be. 

No rush. 

Take your time. 

You deserve a break from working anyway. 

Think of it like a vacation. 

Really…no rush.

“I like coming home to you,” he said, joining you at the dining table, sitting down to a hot meal under the tall taper candles you had bought. And the candle holders. And the tablecloth. 

Leon also liked the way you made his cold, bachelor apartment more like a home. It happened almost instantly, when the two of you merged lives and the last box was unpacked and taken down to the recycling bin. Then, bit by bit, you’d buy pillows for the sofa that matched the rug he definitely didn’t pick out himself, and the curtains he helped you hang. A plant or two to breathe life into the stuffy air of his industrial loft. A photo of you and Leon captured in a gilded frame, sitting on the bookshelf among a bunch of the cute trinkets you collect. 

“And you cook like a dream,” he mumbled, mouth full of half-chewed food. “I could get used to this.” 

You giggle, the twinkling sound bouncing against the sky-high ceilings, the white walls now broken up with framed artwork and photos of the two of you. “Just let me know if you ever get tired of it, and I’ll get out of your hair.” 

He stalls, mid-bite, cinching his coarse, dark brows. You lean back in your chair, watching as he swallows hard. “I would never.” 

“Get tired of me? Or tell me if you did?” 

Leon shakes his head, incredulous. “Baby, no.” His brows release. “You’re not going anywhere, not if I have anything to do with it.” 

And he meant it. He tried to not be controlling, like some gargantuan storm cloud hovering over your every move, but he couldn’t help how much he worried every time you left the apartment without him, every time you spoke to someone that wasn’t him. 

And for some crazy reason, you didn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, it seemed to turn you on every time he let one of his dark thoughts slip through the cracks in his cool exterior. You sank to your knees and sucked the soul out of his dick when he said he’d chop off the hands (and other precious limbs) of any man that so much as touched you. You sat on his face and rode his mouth till you came down his throat when he mentioned that he followed you home in his car after your fourth date, just to make sure you were safe on the road. 

What he couldn’t divulge, however, was that he would sometimes sneak into your apartment in the middle of the night, picking the janky lock at the front door until he finally convinced you to get it changed and he could snag a copy of the new key. 

He would watch you as you slept, memorizing the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed soundly, the little quiver of your lips as you dreamed. Other times, when his resolve was worn thin and maybe he got hit too hard on a mission and needed soft skin to touch, he’d get into bed with you and hold you tight against him, or sit on the edge of your mattress, and caress the locks of your hair splayed out across your pillowcase. Nothing more, of course. Again, he’s not a monster. 

He just…loved…intensely. 

Obviously, the next step was marriage, because in order for him to own you, body and soul, he had to put an obnoxiously large ring on your finger. The only thing better would be a fat baby on your hip, half-him, half-you, but for now, the diamond would have to suffice. 

You were going to be his forever.

You

It was the building’s handyman that noticed the cameras, and it was an accident at that. Something about the interference with your television’s signal that led him to be suspicious of any other wireless technology in your apartment. He found the first one, tucked into one of the shelves of the bookcase in the corner of your bedroom, angled to give the watcher a perfect view of your bed.

He asked if you knew it was there, which you didn’t, but you said you did. 

Because you knew who put it there. 

The same man that followed you around the grocery store, on your commute to and from work, the man who shot daggers at anyone who looked at you the wrong way. 

You were creeped out at first, sure, but the line between obsessive stalker and protective lover quickly blurred, and you began to find Leon’s little quirks rather charming. All they proved was that the man would do anything for you, to keep you safe, to take care of you, and you weren’t about to push that away. 

Not when you had the opportunity to quit your lousy, dead-end job and move into a luxurious penthouse loft in the middle of the city. To be doted on and adored by the most attractive man you ever met. To be taken care of for the rest of your earthly life, never having to so much as lift a finger. So. you’ll keep this information close to your chest and let him continue to obsess.  

Plus, Leon ate your pussy like his life depended on it. Ain’t no way you’re lettin’ that go.

[starsea7er]

I love this trope but it's so rare to find so i'm loving every bit of thissss

[starsea7er]

The warmest, brightest, watchful eye

[choccy-sippy]

Leetle Leons for your viewing pleasure

[if-dreams-do-come-true]

Leon Kennedy’s Cleft Chin 😚

[brilcrist]

𝐼𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟

---------

Ps: this one is an unused art for my merch bonuses.‬ ‪I posted it here coz i still like the concept. ‬

‪And the person that lying in bed is... up to you.‬ Can be self insert, man, woman, etc. 😚‬

[cumvarlot]

[rednnedy]

PLAYDATES & COFFEES ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: Being a single mum is hard. Knowing that your kid hasn't been nice to the newest girl in school is harder. What you don't expect after Leon approaches you to talk about the situation with your kids is that they end acting as if nothing had happened… and them two asking you both if you're going to be their new "mommy" and "daddy" ‼️ Angst to fluff. Mentions of bullying ✹ PAIRINGS: RE4R single girl dad Leon Kennedy x single boy mum Reader ✹ Find me on AO3 ✹ Find me on Wattpad ✹ Join my WHATSAPP CHANNEL ✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST 💬 Missed writing girl dad Leon so so much... but you'll have more of RE9 girl(s) dad Leon pretty soon...

You adjust the strap of your backpack over your shoulder, watching parents arrive at the school gate. Some of them are chatting with each other while a few, like you, are standing there waiting for the children to come out with their teachers.

“Peter!”

You raise your hand and call softly when you see your son, who seems quite nervous until he spots you. Instead of hugging you and smiling, like he always does, his expression’s strange. Not to mention that he keeps looking back, as if he was missing something.

“Hi, sweetie,” you say gently, taking his backpack and giving him a hug. “Is something wrong?” you ask, worried, crouching down to his level.

“No,” is all he says, suddenly taking your hand and squeezing it tighter than usual. “Can we go now? Please?”

That takes you completely off guard. Peter never acts like this, and specially not on a Friday afternoon, with the weekend just about to begin.

“Sure, but—”

“Excuse me?”

Even though you’re calm and apparently relaxed, a voice you’ve never heard makes you stand up and turn around.

A man, about your age, is standing in front of you, at a respectful distance. Just as you’re holding your son’s hand, there’s a little girl beside him, clinging tightly to his right hand and half-hidden behind him, peeking out shyly while still keeping her eyes on you.

You notice how Peter tenses up, which makes you realize there’s something you don’t know.

“Hello. First of all… Sorry for the inconvenience,” the man says again, keeping his distance. “I’m Leon Kennedy, and this is my daughter, Hope.”

The little girl shyly raises her little hand, though her gaze remains fixed on the floor.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you reply, instinctively softening your tone as you can’t help but stare at Hope. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Peter’s mother.”

“Look, I won’t take up much of your time,” Leon continues bluntly and calmly. “We’ve just moved here. Hope started school this week.”

Your lips curve into a smile again, but Leon’s hesitation as he tries to keep talking makes your stomach knot up.

You know he isn’t going to tell you something good. You realize this the moment his gaze, now much sadder, shifts shyly from his daughter to your son.

“There’s something I thought you should know,” he says, keeping his eyes on Peter. Then, he crouches down next to Hope, wrapping his arm around her. “She’s having a little trouble adjusting. You know how it is: new place, new people… if it’s not easy for us, imagine how it is for them.”

You nod, still looking at the little girl.

“And, well… there are some kids who haven’t been very nice to her these past few days,” Leon adds.

You instinctively look at Peter, who’s now staring at the floor too.

“Pete?”

Your tone’s much more serious now. You keep looking at him, but he, of course, avoids looking at you.

“From what Hope’s told me, your son’s the one who’s been acting a little worse toward her.”

You stay silent, not knowing what to say. You feel a knot in your stomach, in your throat, and, above all, a deep sense of shame as you listen to Leon.

“Peter, look at me,” you say, your voice firmer. He doesn’t, of course. “Peter.”

You notice the little boy flinch slightly, finally looking up when you decide to squeeze his hand a little.

“What’s Mr. Kennedy talking about?” you ask him.

“It’s not—” he begins, but his voice trembles too much.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Did you treat her badly or not?”

He swallowed nervously.

“Yes…”

The confession hits you like a bucket of cold water. Now, you’re the one who can’t look at Leon Kennedy and his daughter because of the shame you’re feeling.

“Peter, can you tell me what’s going on with you?” you snap in a low but authoritative voice. “She’s new here and doesn’t know anyone,” you say, pointing at Hope. “Why on Earth would you even think of treating her badly?”

“It wasn’t just me! Everyone—”

“I don’t care what everyone’s doing!” you cut him off, raising your voice. “I’ve taught you, and I still teach you every single day, that you have to be kind to everyone. You shouldn’t have behaved the way you did toward her.”

Your son’s eyes begin to fill with tears, but that doesn’t stop you:

“I always tell you that we don’t hurt people, but we help them. And, specially, we do that when they’re new.”

Your son doesn’t say anything, of course, but your mind’s racing right now. You turn to Leon immediately, and the anger you feel toward your son turns to a bigger shame when you look into his eyes:

“I’m so sorry,” you say softly, completely ashamed. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah. I figured,” Leon replies.

Your gaze shifts from father to daughter. Hope's still hiding behind him, her little fingers clinging to the sleeve of his t-shirt.

You crouch down a little, getting down to her level. Hope just hides more, and you can’t help but feel both anger and pity.

“Hi, sweetie,” you say gently. “I’m so sorry Peter and the other kids have been mean to you,” she glances at you out of the corner of her eye, a little hesitant. “You don’t deserve any of that. Not even a tiny bit.”

Hope starts shifting nervously, looking at her father. He nods, smiling shyly to reassure her.

“It’s okay… I just wanted to make some friends,” she whispers, still looking down.

That breaks your heart into a million pieces.

You quickly stand up and turn toward your son, who’s standing more away from you than you’d like.

“Peter: apologize,” you order him. He hesitates, nodding his head, as if he was complaining. “Peter Y/L/N: apologize. Now,” you repeat.

The boy takes a step forward, his shoulders slumped. He looks at Hope’s father and, then, at her, quickly looking away, clearly ashamed.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters.

“Do it right, Peter,” you insist once again. “I didn’t teach you to apologise that way.”

He sighs, and this time he actually looks at the girl:

“I’m sorry, Hope. I shouldn’t have been mean to you.”

The girl stares at him, not quite sure if he meant it or if you’d just made him say it. Finally, she nods shyly and replies with a very, very quiet okay.

“Do you want to play?”

That question takes you both by surprise. Above all, you’re quite shocked by how the girl leans forward to Peter, who’s as surprised as Leon and you.

“Uh… okay.”

You don’t even know how, but within minutes, the kids are already talking normally, as if nothing had happened between them. They can’t stop laughing, chasing each other, and running back and forth.

“Kids…” you murmur, crossing your arms as a smile spreads across your face.

Leon stands beside you, just as shy as his daughter, and lets out a sigh.

“We should be more like them,” he says, crossing his arms as well. “When it comes to solving problems and letting things go, I mean…” he adds.

You turn to look at him, then look away the moment he turns to look at you, hoping he didn’t catch you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, with your head down and shaking it, tells you that, of course, he did.

Your cheeks turn red as you see Hope spinning around and jumping while Peter seems to be gesturing to her with his hands, signaling something.

“She’s so sweet,” you say softly.

“She is,” he simply replies.

You look at him again, though this time you don’t look away when your eyes meet his.

“Well…” you begin, not quite sure where you want to lead the conversation to. “Since, apparently, they seem to be best friends now… we should keep an eye on them before they cause any trouble or something.” Leon follows your gaze as the kids keep running along the sidewalk outside the school. “There’s a park right down the street, about a 5-minute walk. The teachers usually come out at this time… and they often complain that kids shouldn’t be playing here,” you explain. “They’re idiots, if you ask me.”

“Sure. Great,” he smiles at you, slinging Hope’s Spider-Man backpack over his shoulder.

“Peter! Don’t go too far! We’re going to the park!” you call out.

“Okay, mom!”

While your son’s completely focused on his game, Hope shyly approaches her father.

“Go with Peter,” Leon tells his daughter, smiling at her and stroking her head softly. “We’ll go with him and his mom, okay?”

Peter and Hope don’t wait for you: you’re the ones who have to pick up their pace so you don’t lose sight of them. You follow them through the narrow path lined with trees on its side you know too well until you spot the playground.

Hope can’t stop laughing as Peter tries to beat her to the swings.

You force yourself to slow down when they start going down the slide, knowing that at least, your son, and probably his new friend, encouraged by him, would spend at least ten minutes in there not only sliding, but also making up all sorts of games.

Leon walks beside you with his hands in his pockets, also watching the children, way more relaxed now that daughter seems to be in her own world.

“You handled that pretty well,” you admit, turning toward him. “The thing with Hope and Peter, I mean. By the way… sorry again. I didn’t raise my son to be an asshole the way he’s been to yours,” you clarify. He waves his hand dismissively, no longer making a big deal of it. “You’re the first parent I’ve ever had a problem with, but I’m convinced that if it’d been anyone else, they would’ve reacted much more angrily.”

“My daughter’s everything to me, but I know that, if I get angry, it wouldn’t help the situation. You know that kids tend to imitate us in everything. I don’t want to set that example for Hope.”

You swallow hard and lower your head, worried about what she just said and, above all, that he might actually think your son’s copied your behavior and that’s why he acted that way toward his daughter.

You decide to stay silent, not quite sure what to say, as you keep walking, approaching a bench that’s right across from where your children are playing.

“So… did you just move here?” you ask, curious.

“Yeah. We arrived a couple of weeks ago.”

“That’s a big change, especially with a 6-year-old girl.”

“It is, but Hope’s more than used to it. This isn’t our first move,” Leon explains.

“Really?” you raise an eyebrow, curious.

Leon nods, taking his time to answer as he watches Hope climb the small ladder leading to the top of the slide.

“We tend to move around a lot because of my job. Not just between cities, but also between countries,” he explains. “It’s been that way for quite a few years. It’s tiring, but you eventually get used to it.”

“So why did you decide to settle here?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. You immediately regret it. “Sorry for asking— It’s just that—”

“I want to give Hope the stability I haven’t been able to give her over the last five years of her life,” he interrupts, looking at you, completely calm. “My job isn’t as demanding as it was a few years ago, so I thought it was the perfect time to bring some calm into our lives.”

Even you know there’s more behind those words, you don’t ask him anything else. You look back at the kids.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it when she’s older.”

Leon doesn’t answer, but he nods. Deep down, he hopes that’s the case, and that he isn’t ruining his daughter’s life way more than he thinks he’s already done.

“What about you? Have you been living here for a while?” he asks cautiously.

“My whole life, actually,” you sigh softly and force a completely fake smile onto your lips.“I mean, I’m not here exactly by choice. I always planned to leave as soon as I graduated from college to start over somewhere where no one knew me…” you explain.

“And what stopped you from doing that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but end up pointing to your son.

“Getting pregnant with Peter,” you continue. “The plans I had, my priorities… Everything changed overnight,” you shrug when you notice Leon looking at you with pity. “It was the most stable situation I could afford given how unstable it’s to get pregnant without even planning it,” you continue. “I worked as much as I could until almost the moment I gave birth, and I paid the rent for the studio where we still live the best way I could…” you look back at your son. “It’s not what I imagined, of course, but as of today, it’s not something I regret either.”

“Are you doing this on your own?”

Leon asks you that cautiously, knowing it could be a delicate topic. When you look at him, you realize he’s not judging you at all, which you appreciate because it’s not the norm, specially with the men you’ve tried to go on dates with, who always run away when you mentioned your little boy.

“Yeah. Single mom.”

“Same here.”

Maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions… but that takes you completely by surprise. Yes, you haven’t seen a wedding ring on him and, yes, he doesn’t have to wear one even ig he’s married…

“Really?”

“Yeah,” is all he says.

You tilt your head slightly, still looking at him, curious about his story. Considering that he’s barely shared any information with you about his work other than the constant moves he’s made, you figure he’s not the type to share personal details with anyone, so you don’t ask any more questions.

“I had Hope when I was 21. With my ex-girlfriend.”

You widen your eyes and lean toward him, though you correct your posture immediately, trying not to make him feel uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, to be honest,” he sighs.

“It seems like history’s repeating itself,” you smile. “I was 20, almost 21, when I had Peter,” you confess. Judging by his expression, he seems to relax a little. “What happened between you and…? If you don’t mind me asking, of course…”

Leon’s gaze drifts back to his daughter. You see him bite his lower lip and fidget with his hands, clearly nervous, trying to find the right words without giving too much away.

“Hope’s mother hasn’t been around for a while. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It is how it is,” he says, shrugging. Then he gives you a slight smile. “At this point, Hope barely remembers her.”

That makes you feel a little bad.

“Peter’s father’s never been around, if that’s any consolation…” you confess again, lowering your voice.

“Not even at the beginning?”

You shake your head.

“It’s hard,” Leon says again. “No kid should’ve to go through that… Neither should we,” he adds to your surprise.

“Sometimes it’s still hard… but you end up getting through it. You end up figuring it all out on your own, and that’s an amazing feeling, you know?”

He nods, and your eyes meet again. However, this time you both laugh, lowering your heads at the same time, without saying anything else because someone interrupts you.

Hope’s calling you. Both of you.

You look up toward where the little voice is coming from, and the little girl is waving.

“Daddy! Peter’s mommy! Look!”

After saying that, she goes down the slide with her little arms raised, Peter right behind her. Then, when she reaches the bottom, she waits for Peter to catch up before climbing back up again.

“You’ve done a good job with him,” Leon blurts out, without taking his eyes off your children. “He admitted he messed up earlier. That’s not easy for a kid.”

“Yeah, well…” you exhale carefully, still a little angry about the situation and, above all, disappointed. “He was the one who started all this shit. He knew that it was either apologize to Hope or no cartoons and no going to the park for a month… at least.”

Leon gives you a small smile.

“And Hope… she’s such a kind girl, even after Peter made things pretty difficult for her these past few days,” you add.

“She has a good heart,” he says. “A little shy, but I guess she takes after her father.”

Leon and you wander back and forth, sitting down whenever you feel like it, joining in to play with your children while you talk about a little bit of everything and let time pass, to your surprise, way too quickly.

Hope and Peter are lost in their own world, running back and forth, stopping to discuss strategies for the games they’ve made without really knowing what they’re doing. At one point, your son even takes the game too seriously, climbing onto a step that was too high, and ends up falling so dramatically that it makes little Kennedy laugh too hard.

“He’s going to end up hurting himself…” you murmur, shaking your head and smiling.

“Probably,” Leon replies, crossing his arms. “But that’s just how kids are, right?”

You see how Peter heads toward a seesaw, sitting down on one of the seats while looking at Hope, waiting for her to join him. To your surprise, the little girl stands still, her gaze lost… until it meets yours.

You’re surprised that, even she seems quite hesitant, she starts walking toward the bench where you and her father are sitting with a shy smile on her lips.

“Hi, Hope,” you say as she lowers her steps.

The little girl stops in front of you, looking you up and down shyly. Still smiling at her, you see her features more closely: her cheeks are round and very, very red, covered in freckles; her hair, an ash-blonde similar to her father’s, is wavy, and her eyes… are exactly like Leon’s, except they’re closer to a rather beautiful greenish hue.

“Hi…” she says softly, looking down.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Now she’s the one looking you up and down, curiously, as if trying to figure out if there’s more to you than just being Peter’s mom.

“You’re really pretty.”

You’re stunned, and next to you, Leon freezes completely. Just like you, he doesn’t know what to say.

A little giggle of surprise escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“Oh… Thanks, Hope. You’re very pretty too.”

“And I really like your hair!”

Following the little girl’s finger, almost instinctively, you tuck a strand behind your ear. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s really pretty!”

For a few moments, neither of you says anything else, not even Leon. You notice Hope’s expression shifts from a full smile to one that suggests she’s about to say something else.

Her eyes widen and dart from her father to you, until they settle on you:

“Are you going to be my new mommy?”

That, of course, takes you completely off guard. You let the silence settle between you, mulling it over in your head, trying to come up with an answer simple enough so that the little girl…

Shit.

You look at Leon, who’s clearly just as surprised as you are. You see him part his lips slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but he ends up closing them. Just like you did earlier, you see his cheeks turning red, perhaps out of embarrassment at his daughter’s question.

Fair enough.

“Well…”

You try to speak, but the words vanish.

What were you supposed to say to her when you’d only just met her father?

Hope looks at you with wide, innocent eyes, encouraging you to answer a question that, of course, seemed like the most common one she could’ve asked you.

“Well… that’s a pretty important question,” you lean forward, a sigh escaping your lips. “And also a little bit difficult. I might need some time to think about it.”

“Really?” she asks, innocently.

You nod, a smile spreading across your face.

“Okay, Peter’s mommy.”

You think that’s the end of it, but your son comes running up to you, placing his hands on his knees and catching his breath, as if he’d just stepped out of a cartoon.

He stares at his new friend, not even bothering to look at you or Leon.

“What are you doing with my mom?”

“I asked her if she’s going to be my new mommy,” the girl replies immediately.

Peter doesn’t seem very surprised by the question. It seems… normal to him. It seems that normal that he turns to Leon and, of course, lets his innocence appear:

“Wait…” he narrows his eyes, pointing at Leon. You see his face, and you realize that, just like you, he knows where this is going. “Does that mean you’re going to be my dad now?”

You press your lips together and try to calm yourself down, struggling to keep your composure.

You notice how Leon’s looking at Peter. The surprise on his face gradually turns into a smile much wider, and even more sincere, than the ones you’ve been seeing all afternoon.

“Wow, buddy, that’s such an important question, too,” he replies calmly.

“You’re so, so cool, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Appreciate that, bud.”

A nervous laugh escapes your lips, and you turn around when you notice Hope, still by your side, gently tugging at your sleeve to get your attention.

“But you could be my new mummy, right?” she continues to insist with complete confidence.

“Yes, and you can be my dad too, Mr. Kennedy!” Peter adds quickly, jumping in front of Leon.

You exchange a glance with Leon.

“Well…” you begin. As you try to find the right words, you brush a few strands of hair away from Hope’s face with your hand. “Getting a new dad and a new mom takes a while.”

“Why?” the little girl asks, furrowing her brow.

“Because people need time to get to know each other first,” Leon explains gently.

You turn your head, thanking him with your eyes. He smiles back at you, crossing his arms as Peter curls up on his lap, looking up at him.

“Like playdates?” she asks, looking at Leon, who bursts out laughing.

“Something like that, yeah,” you confirm.

Hope’s face lights up completely, and she also plops down on her legs, only to immediately start jumping in circles around the bench where you’re sitting.

“Then we can do that!”

“Yes! Please!” Peter insists, joining her.

“All right, all right!” you say, laughing as you stand up. Leon follows your lead, and Peter doesn’t let go of your legs. “Let’s take one step at a time, okay?”

Without hesitation, Hope takes your hand. At the same time, you notice that Peter seems to want to do the same with Leon but, instead, he stays by his side, close enough so he doesn’t feel left out.

Leon realizes that, even it might not seem like it, he’s as shy as Hope is.

“You two are moving fast, huh?” Leon asks, running his hand through Peter’s hair and then placing his hands on his shoulders as they walk together, your son in front of him.

“I could say the same about the two of you,” you point out, while Hope, standing next to you, laughs. “Seems like now you’re pretty good friends.”

“Like you and me!” Hope shouts from beside you, jumping up again. Then she lifts her little head and looks at you. “Can we go play a little more?”

“Of course.”

The little girl smiles and lets go of you right away, running toward the playground with Peter following her, shouting to her to wait for him.

“Well… wow,” you murmur under your breath.

“Yeah. They’re… intense.”

You turn toward Leon, who’s sitting on another bench. You do the same, though this time you sit a little closer to him. He seems to notice, so he looks at you and smiles shyly. You decide to move away a little in case you’re bothering him, but you’re surprised when he tells you it’s fine.

“I guess we’ve both made a really good impression on our kids. And, at least my opinion… on each other.”

Leon’s words catch you completely off guard, and you feel a little more embarrassed.

Could it be…?

You shake your head. That’s impossible: a single father wouldn’t be trying to hit on you, a single mother. And certainly not considering that your son’s made his daughter’s life miserable for the past week.

“Um…”

Leon turns toward you, moving even closer, though still keeping his distance.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry about earlier. About Peter and how he behaved with Hope…”

Leon shakes his head immediately.

“Hey, no. You don’t have to apologize. We’ve already talked about this before. Don’t worry about it,” Leon insists.

“I know I’ve apologized before and all, but…” you look at Peter, seeing him laugh as Hope chases him across the lawn. “I’m embarrassed. That’s not how I raised him, so I wouldn’t want you to think badly of me,” you admit.

“Given the way you’ve treated my daughter and scolded your son, that’s the last thing I’d ever think of you,” Leon says with complete sincerity.

“Well… And then there’s this whole thing about him telling you to be his dad… He doesn’t think before he speaks. I try to teach him that words are very important, but he still doesn’t listen to me…”

“I’ve noticed. It’s okay, really,” he insists. “Besides, I should also apologize for Hope’s question about you becoming her new mom.”

You look back at the little girl. Now that you’re closer to them, you can hear him explaining the rules of a game they just made up to your son.

“She says exactly what she thinks. Plus, she’s really, really cute,” you turn toward Leon, who you catch looking at you as if he wants to say something. Seeing that he doesn’t, you decide to speak up, a little worried: “Is there something wrong?”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no… It’s just that… what do you think about us organizing playdates? I mean, if you want to, of course. If not, it’s no big deal—”

“You serious?” you ask, surprised, cutting him off.

“Hope would love to have, at least, one good friend. And considering how the week started, and how things are now…” at first, you’re concerned by his words, but you gradually relax when you notice the playful tone behind them. “Maybe it would do them both some good.”

“I’d like that, too. It’d be nice, yeah,” you smile.

You notice how Leon seems to relax. You also notice how, once again, it looks like he’s about to say something, but only this time he beats you to it before you can keep talking:

“Maybe… we could grab coffee sometime, too. Just the two of us.”

Now that really catches you completely off guard.

“You don’t have to do that, Leon,” you reply nervously, fidgeting with your hair.

“I know.”

“No, no, what I mean’s…” you lower your gaze, biting your lip. “You don’t have to be nice to me just because our kids—”

“I’m being completely serious,” he replies. “Our kids seem to enjoy each other’s company, and I’m having a pretty good time with you today, too. Besides… I’d like to get to know you better.”

The confession catches you completely off guard, but you’re glad to hear it even though a part of you, deep down, thinks Leon is only doing this out of a sense of obligation.

You look away once again with a smile, completely flustered, before looking back at him:

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“That’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because I really want to. I’d really like to get to know you better,” he repeats.

“Okay…” you reply shyly. “Playdates and coffees with you sounds pretty good.”

“Really?” he replies, and you’re not sure if he’s surprised or relieved.

“How about we start tomorrow after we drop the kids off at school? Is it okay with you?”

Leon smiles from ear to ear, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Yeah. A coffee with you is more than okay with me.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖

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[starsea7er]

RE2 Leon concept art sketch bcs the concept of him with a dog is very dear to me 🥹🥹

[annaoi]

Yep... Leon's training was really rough.

Special thanks to @theycallmedarling for proofreading and for fixing my awful English and for @loveiscosmicsin for the support and suggestions. Was inspired by @cryran88 's fic.

[annaoi]

Yep... Leon's training was really rough.

Special thanks to @theycallmedarling for proofreading and for fixing my awful English and for @loveiscosmicsin for the support and suggestions. Was inspired by @cryran88 's fic.