#resident evil remake

[kuuuuuro]

used to be a cop myself, only for a day, though

[northernolddragon]

[666chevy]

First time drawing S.T.A.R.S. Jill I think??? 🫣✨️

[solisstars]

something so unfairly attractive about leon kennedy eating an orange.

he's leaned against your counter like he owns it, bare hip propped against the cold marble, as he peels one. his hair is tousled and his sweatpants are riding lower and lower with each shift against the counter.

he obliviously offers you a slice once he cracks it open, not noticing the oggling or the sudden shift in atmosphere.

he slides you half when you accept–or double checks before shrugging if you decline.

he houses an orange or three. and when he's done, there's orange juice dripping from his fingers.

you shamelessly stare as he licks his lips first, before licking each finger with eye contact too deliberate to be coincidental. because of course, he's noticed that you're staring now.

you, on the other hand, certainly weren't imagining an entirely different substance running around his pretty mouth. that would be absurd.

[residentevilweirdo]

"I could be a better boyfriend than him." (Leon Kennedy)

Summary: you go to your best friend Leon apartment after a breakup, and he knows he's the best option for you.

The night in Raccoon City seemed to feel the ache forming in your chest the moment the rain started to fall.

Of course it would rain tonight. Of course the sky would decide to collapse right after you had your worst fight yet with your boyfriend.

You walked without caring where the water soaked you first. Your makeup was ruined, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, your dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Anyone passing by would probably think you were only crying because of the storm. You almost wished that were true.

You could have gone back to your apartment. It was only a few streets away. But the thought of sitting alone in the dark, replaying his words over and over again, felt unbearable. The silence would eat you alive.

So instead, you turned toward the one place that had always felt safe.

Leon's apartment.

Leon, your best friend. The cop. The boy who had walked you home from school when you were ten because you were afraid of stray dogs. The one who had held your hand at your grandmother's funeral. The one your boyfriend despised with a jealousy he never tried to hide.

You reached his door and knocked. Softer than you meant to. Hesitant.

What would he think? Showing up like this, late at night, dripping water onto his carpet like some abandoned stray.

The door opened almost immediately.

Leon had been inside, still in his RPD shirt after a long shift, half watching your favorite sitcom reruns just to feel close to you somehow. When he heard the knock, something in his chest tightened. He knew. He just knew it was you.

When he saw you standing there, soaked and shaking, his expression changed in a second.

No pity. No judgment.

Only worry. And that unconditional love he had always reserved for you. His navy blue eyes searched yours carefully, taking in every detail of your state.

The fact that he could tell you were not okay so quickly was almost overwhelming.

When he opened his arms, you did not hesitate. You fell into him, tears running freely down your cheeks as you clung to his body like your life depended on it. He hugged you back with the same urgency, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your waist, as if he was afraid you might disappear.

The way Leon touched you had always been different from anyone else. You could feel the love in it, the devotion, the silent promise that he would never let anything hurt you if he could help it. Even as his clothes grew damp, he did not pull away.

Deep down, you knew your boyfriend had reasons to feel threatened.

Because this did not feel like a simple hug between friends.

He eventually pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing his thumb under your eye to wipe away the smudged mascara.

“You’re freezing. Come inside.”

You stepped in, leaving faint wet footprints behind you. He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with one of his old RPD t shirts and a pair of loose gray sweatpants.

"Bathroom's free," he said. "Take your time."

When you came back out wearing his clothes, barefaced and small in fabric that clearly belonged to him, Leon nearly forgot how to breathe.

He had seen you in dresses, in pajamas, in Halloween costumes when you were teenagers. But something about you standing in his clothes felt dangerously intimate.

You looked like you belonged there.

He cleared his throat quickly. "You want to talk about it?"

Instead of answering, you tilted your head slightly. "Do you have anything to drink?"

He let out a soft huff of laughter. "Yeah. I think I do."

You ended up sitting on the floor by the couch, backs resting against it, sharing a bottle of red wine. No glasses. Just passing it back and forth.

He hated how aware he was of everything. The faint taste of your lipstick still on the rim. The way your knee brushed his. The way your fingers lingered a second too long when you handed the bottle back.

You told him about the fight, carefully avoiding the detail that his name had been dragged into it. You did not repeat how your boyfriend had called you a slut for always running to the blond cop whenever things went wrong.

And then the words slipped out of Leon’s mouth before he could stop them.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

You froze.

You were both tipsy, but still sober enough to understand what that meant. To hear the jealousy laced through it.

He seemed to realize too late what he had just said. The silence stretched painfully between you. He looked at you, already bracing himself to see you stand up, to leave, to shout at him, maybe even slap him.

But you stayed exactly where you were.

“I know,” you whispered softly.

It was impossible not to imagine him instead of the man you were currently with.

Picture Leon sitting next to you on the couch, watching those stupid cartoon movies you both loved instead of your boyfriend changing the channel without even asking.

Picture him driving you to work like he used to, refusing to let you walk alone, instead of your boyfriend telling you to figure it out yourself.

Picture Leon’s parents, who adored you, laughing at your dumb jokes during dinner and treating you like family, instead of your current in laws who always made you feel like a child pretending to be an adult.

Picture Leon’s hand absentmindedly tracing the scar on your arm like he had done since you were teenagers, the one you got after that stupid bike accident, instead of your boyfriend calling it kind of gross.

Your boyfriend had every reason to hate Leon.

Because right now, as you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his, tasting the soft gasp that escaped him in surprise, you realized what you had been missing your entire life.

And you were not going to give it up again.

[jillchris]

[leonsleatherjacket]

title: what your boyfriend loves about you - leon s. kennedy

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synopsis: just cute domestic fluff! you finally moved in with leon, and he obviously picks up on your little quirks - making him fall harder for you than ever.

author's note: this can be any leon really, just imagine what you wish. also, feel free to make requests!! i'll make a rules list soon but just shoot it and i'll do what i feel comfortable with (i can do smut!). my apologises for any grammar or tense issues i shouldnt be awake right now ahahhaa.

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ the way you would leave little post-it notes before you left for work. you would ask him to pick you up once your shift ended or to grab some eggs at the store. despite how mundane these tasks seemed, that man would do anything for you - like a dog playing fetch. you throw the ball, he would catch it without fail, coming back for more. the intimacy of your handwriting felt better than any text, and sometimes if you left a sweet message- he would fold it into his wallet, so he could read it when he was at work. eventually, he started leaving notes too. they originated on the kitchen table, and then your desk, and then the bathroom, and then eventually he found one on his forehead in the morning, reading: 'you sleep with your mouth open'. he groaned.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ your passion. whenever you were cooped up with a project, whether it was a hobby or work- you managed to take up the entirety of your shared office. pieces of paper, everywhere. they would begin to pile up on leon's desk too. it was a total bombsite, if he was going to be honest. however, he admired it deeply. you were so passionate about your work, if the office wasn't decorated with it- you would be talking about it or scribbling away in a notepad. that sort of drive, motivation and passion was a quality that touched him. he felt almost proud of himself in the way he could provide a space for someone to be so comfortable in, because he never had that for himself.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪your dinners together. you would ask him about his day, or start telling him every detail of your day, or mention how far you have come along in the book you were reading. sometimes you two would cook together, but this never lasted long as leon usually would take over. but you would perch yourself on top of the kitchen counter, quietly observing how his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he focused.

you always had some 90s music blurring in the background, "oh- this one is my favourite!" you would increase the volume by 20- grabbing leon's wrists to get him to dance with you. the two of you erupted in laughter as you threw your arms around to the music. it always softened the blow of the haunting horrors he would have to face at work. the glow that radiated from your face as you smiled never failed to loosen the tight knot in his chest.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ your smile. your laughter. nothing beat it. it unravelled something deep inside of leon, releasing the tension in his body that had been built up all day at work. he even caught himself talking only about you to his co-workers, realising the thought of you just subconsciously calmed him. luckily, you were easy to get a laugh out of and he always had some sort of corny joke up his sleeve.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ how comfortable you were with him. after moving in together, he noticed how sacred the space became. he noticed his combat boots next to your small heels. he noticed your sweet perfume next to his strong cologne. he noticed how your jewellery was scattered around in every room - to the point where he bought a special bowl to collect it all in. he saw your colorful, patterned mug next to his standard, uniform mug. it wasn't his home- it was a home shared by the two of you, and he felt an almost giddiness at thinking of you as 'home'.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪how you would greet leon after work. you always had your music blasting loudly, and if he was lucky, he would hear you sing as he opened the door. you were certainly no prodigy, but it always gave him a small ounce of relief to hear how carefree your voice was. as soon as you heard the door click open, your smile stretched into a grin as you threw yourself at him. your arms would squeeze him tight until he made a little grunt- your face pressed against his chest. then you would inhale sharply, taking in his addicting scent. he would collapse into a chair, groaning and grumbling about work. of course you didn't like to hear him complain, but it was so frequent and repetitive at this point - you kind of tuned it out. your hands would press into his neck, massaging around his shoulders. his complaints would soon exhaust into pleasurable noises and sighs.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ your patience. occasionally, he came home grumpy, or just irritated. you could tell by his sighing and scoffing echoing from the hallway and the way he tossed his keys on the table. you didn't want to press, or make him recall anything, so you just kept yourself close silently. you would make him a hot drink or just place your hand on his thigh while you were sat watching television together. sometimes, he would melt into your touch and let you play with his hair, soothing him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ the way you slept. the way your hands would curl into his shirt, and how no matter what position you were in, you were always touching him in some way. he loved the way your eyelashes spread when your eyes were shut, and just how peaceful you seemed. your soft rising of your chest, the small exhales from your nose grounded him- especially if he woke up from a night terror. his name occasionally slipped from your lips while deep in sleep, jolting his insomniac ass awake. often, you kicked him in your sleep, and he always make sure you knew about it in the morning. and you always rolled your eyes and scoffed. i would never.

[mefis07]

Time will pass and you'll forget everything that happened

With you and me, with you and me…

No, I'm not waiting for you, but know that I loved

For the last time

For the last time… 💔