There's something about having the other protagonist of Requiem be named Grace when grace arguably is the thing Leon needs the most, and something he's never really extended to himself. It's been almost 30 years since his life got turned upside down. He's back where it all started and it's killing him. Metaphorically and literally. There's a young woman in there with him who's so scared, but being so brave about it and she's so much like him. Someone who's been through terrible things and blames herself for what happened despite being helpless to stop it. Whatever it takes, count me in.
When he looks at her he sees himself, and her name is Grace
leon drops his baby girl off for her first day of school
based on this request
His little girl.
The baby he held, in that hospital blanket he thought was too scratchy for her delicate skin, as she in turn, held him prisoner for the rest of his life, wrapped around his finger to give into her every whim and want. It slowly shifted from warm milk in a bottle, to a stuffie the size of her entire body, to the Barbie dolls she spotted in shop aisles.
He remembers the days when he would help you dress her in those bite-sized onesies he could never quite get her chubby, squirming legs into. Then, the tiny overalls fit for a doll. The even smaller t-shirts that went beneath them. His knees nearly buckled beneath him as he saw the outfit you put her in this morning: a uniform required by the private school she would be attending for the next some-odd years, because only the best education for his darling girl.
There she was, in her little collared polo shirt with the school’s crest, a patch over her heart, and a plaid skirt that covered the princess bandage on her scraped knee. A pair of frilly socks tucked into squeaky clean shoes so small it made his chest tight just looking at them.
“She’s all grown up,” he remembers whining this morning as you packed the lunch box she now holds in her lap–practically a trunk how it’s half her size. You chuckled in the kitchen, thinking he was putting on the theatrics for drama’s sake, to be funny as he always is. But no, he was as serious as a heart attack, which he might just be experiencing now at the thought of his daughter learning how to drive as he gazes through the windshield out onto the street. Twelve years, he reminds himself, white-knuckling the steering wheel, checking the rearview mirror to see his child still buckled, safe and sound, into her carseat. When did she stop rear-facing?
“Drop-off is just up there,” you direct, pointing to a line of cars leading to a portico where teachers stand with welcome signs and pom poms to ease the tears of anxious children. “But they want preschool parents to walk in with the kids, so just park somewhere and we’ll go inside.”
He mumbles something inaudible to his own ringing ears as he parks the car, smooths the front of his dress shirt, helps you unload his daughter from the backseat, carrying her backpack as you hold her hand across the lot.
You notice that your husband is as pale as a ghost as the two of you walk into the school together, now both holding one of your daughter’s hands in your own, her stubby legs carrying her between you, though she can hardly keep up. A smirk appears on your face, and you try to quell it by pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, not wanting to come off smug when Leon’s practically in tears next to you. Still, you can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you’re not the one on the verge of a breakdown, as you had anticipated.
Leon squeezes his daughter’s hand, kneeling down to pull the little one in for another hug and a few words of affirmation before kissing the top of her head, playfully tugging on one of her braids. The teacher asks to snap a photo of the three of you outside the classroom, so you squat down next to your husband and baby and the two of you smile wide, happy expressions doing all but betraying the deep pangs of fear and nostalgia gnawing away at your insides.
The little girl, who you were bringing home from the hospital just yesterday, was bursting at the seams to get into the classroom, and the teacher’s aid whispers a prayer of gratitude that your daughter is one of the excited ones.
As you say goodbye, and the aid leads your daughter into the room, decorated with primary colors and cartoon favorites. You and Leon linger by the window, looking inside at the gaggle of students, busy at tables scattered with loose leaves of paper and rainbows of crayons being shared between little hands.
Leon’s heart could explode. From anxiety. From pride. From the unadulterated love he has for his family. From the joy of watching his baby grow into a little girl, already off to her first day of school, though she was only as tall as a blade of grass just last week. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, falling apart in a school hallway, whimpering and snuffling like the students around him, crying as they say goodbye to their parents.
The two of you stay watching through the pane, and Leon wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in tight to his side. A salty droplet trickles down his cheek as more well ferociously in his eyes, blurring his vision at all corners. He sniffles loudly above you, and you rise up on your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek, raising a gentle hand to wipe away the tears now cascading down his face.
“She’ll be fine,” you say, whether it’s more to assure yourself or Leon, neither of you are sure. But Leon does know that as painful as this transition is, he wants to do it again. Over and over again.
Once he clears his throat and chokes down the sob threatening to rise in it, he lets his hand fall to meet yours.
He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’ve got an hour before I have to be at the office. Want to go home and make another one?”
leon kennedy is smoking the shit out of some meats every fourth of july btw. he locks in so hard. he’s been working on that brisket for a full fucking day. everyone in his contact list is hearing about the brisket
i literally love saying "ON IT BOSS!!!!!" whenever someone asks me to do something like i'm some sort of henchman. it doesn't matter if they're my boss or not for real even because in the moment they are, and whatever they requested of me i'm on it
goddddd and i just UGH but also UGHHHHH and aughhhh.... oughhhhhhhhh...... ACK !!! and.... aghhhhhhhh. ughhhhh ! UGH !!!!! and i can't even because AGHHHHHHH. UGHHH
it’s so embarrassing to want romantic love for myself like ohhh you want someone to care about you? you want to be someone’s favourite person? their first pick?? fuck off
in which leon kennedy tries his best to get out of paperwork
(re9!leon x f!reader)
cw: sfw, but very suggestive
“What’s goin’ on?”
He takes up your doorframe, one arm braced against it, leaning in with the ease of someone just passing through. His eyes find you, then Mike—the resident bane of the office—in front of you.
Too casual, too controlled.
Like he’d already decided how this ends before he hit the door.
Mike, clenching his jaw hard enough to crack teeth, must sense it, too, because when he looks back, he does a double take.
His gaze slips to you, jaw slackening, bravery fizzling under Leon’s presence at his six.
Figures.
You answer for him. A sharp bite.
“Nothing. He was just on his way out.”
He doesn’t argue.
Instead, he compresses himself through the doorway, Leon’s gaze boring into him as he pointedly stares anywhere else. His boot catches on something—Leon’s foot—and his breath hitches as he glances back before stumbling away, muttering.
Leon closes the door. Not enough to echo, but more forceful than necessary.
You stare at him, then busy yourself with your computer.
“You didn’t need to do that.” You slam the spacebar. “I can handle him.”
He huffs, sinking heavily into the chair in front of your desk, hands folding over his stomach as he reclines. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“Then don’t come charging in here like that. People will talk.”
A quiet laugh leaves him as he swivels the chair back and forth. “And they don’t already?”
You tut, shaking your head.
“You're gorgeous when you’re angry, by the way.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, all warmth and fondness. “Can’t stop staring at ‘cha.”
Bastard.
You can’t help your smile, glancing at him sidelong and drumming your fingers along your keyboard.
“Don’t you have something to do?”
He rolls the chair forward, bringing an elbow to your desk to rest his chin atop a fist.
“Stopping by in the middle of you reaming into everyone's favorite was on my to-do list.”
You flick him on the nose.
He snatches your hand, trapping it against his cheek.
“Wanna make out?”
You snort and yank your hand back. “You’re three seconds from Mike part two if you don’t leave me alone.”
He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh no, can't have that.”
He stands and meanders around the desk, slow, deliberate—giving you plenty of time to glare at him.
Never mind the twitch of your lips betraying you completely.
He drops to his knees in front of you, hands coming to your waist to stroke gingerly up and down.
Your brow hikes upward.
His grin widens.
“Leon,” you mutter, pushing loosely against his chest.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Stop. We’re at work.”
He hums. “I’m not doing anything.”
He edges a finger into your waistband and snaps it against your hip. You huff, planting your palms on his cheeks, smushing them once.
“Leon Scott.”
His brows lift at the middle name. You ignore them.
“I’m busy, you’re supposed to be busy…”
God, his stupid eyes.
You bite your lip at the softness in them, too close now to resist. He takes it as an invitation, closing the distance and capturing your mouth with his. His arms snake around your waist, scooting you forward so that he’s between your knees.
You sigh into the kiss. Involuntary.
He matches it, his tongue edging into your mouth.
“Okay.” You push a finger against his lips. “That's enough.”
He only stares, amused and slightly miffed.
You roll your eyes, shaking your head, and bring your forehead to his.
“We. Are. At. Work.” Each syllable accompanies a light bump of your head against his.
“I’m aware.” He kneads the curve of your ass, aiming for your lips again.
You smile and lean back despite his arms heeling you. Your fingers walk under his chin, edging the stubble there.
“Look. The sooner we finish here—“
“Yeah, I’d like to finish here,” he interrupts, deadpan.
You slap his shoulder. “Listen. I was going to say, the sooner we finish here, the sooner we can continue this,” you run your thumb along his lower lip, “at home.”
He groans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
You laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Oh god. Where’s my camera. The Leon Kennedy on his knees, begging? Nobody’ll believe me.”
He only plunks facedown into your lap, grumbling something that vibrates against your skin.
Your fingers comb through his hair, twisting the strands into small ringlets. “What? Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
He turns just enough to free his mouth from the fold of your thigh.
“Please don’t make me write another goddam report today.”
a/n: sorry to any mikes out there. ily. *edited to include the last of it that was very rudely cut off by tumblr :)))
- Leon isn’t very big on public displays of affection, although he will hold your hand through a busy crowd, or place his hand on the small of your back if he’s guiding you somewhere.
- That being said… On the occasional subway ride, Leon refuses to let you touch the grimy grab handles. He insists you hold onto his bicep instead. Not like you’d complain.
- When he’s at home with you, Leon is practically your shadow - putting his head on top of your chin or in the crook of your neck while you’re attending to a task, such as a typing away at a report or cooking something. He also pulls you in super close whenever you’re sat on the couch or lying in bed, and he absolutely hates letting go.
- Leon also enjoys physical touch, but from you and only you, since he sees you as a safe space. He especially loves when you rake your fingers through his hair, lightly touching his scalp. It reminds you of a dog leaning in to nuzzle the hand petting it. He’s more touch starved than he lets on.
- Even after a long day at the office or returning from a mission, Leon is the one who will cook you both breakfast the following morning, or he’ll notice that oil leak from your car and fix it for you before you even spot it yourself. Leon would never let you lift a finger, unless you wanted to.
- He always gets a little surge of pride when he’s able to be the hero for you - especially if it involves brute strength, such as opening stubborn jars or moving a piece of heavy furniture. It’s a bit amusing watching him try to play it cool when you thank him for his help.
- Words and grand romantic gestures aren’t Leon’s strongest suit - but he doesn’t go a day without saying “I love you”.
- Leon is not really big on the gift giving and receiving front, but he always gathers information by asking your friends and paying attention to what you’re looking at in the mall so he can get you a nice gift. His preferred gifts from you are handmade, since he’s quite sentimental.
- When things became serious, Leon told you that he trusts you with his card, and you can buy whatever you want with it. For whatever reason, you still kind of hold back on using it… So sometimes Leon will just straight up ask you to visit a luxury store and put his card to use, because he has no clue how else he’s going to spend all that money otherwise.
- Making corny jokes is just a reflex for Leon at this point. If you say something that reminds him of a joke, he will add an awful one-liner after your sentence before you can even stop him. In response, you usually stare at him with a deadpan look, while he’s staring back at you looking pleased with himself.
- Leon is a very clean guy, he sometimes showers twice a day. He has a very strong soapy aldehydic scent, which is softened only by a fraction from his sandalwood aftershave and his natural skin musk. He smells a lot like freshly washed linen.
- Since beginning to work for the DSO, Leon became an extremely organised and tidy person; he’s meticulous in the way he arranges and stores his belongings at home. He doesn’t leave his inbox piled up with over 2,000 notifications. Hell, even his desktop computer is free from clutter, with dedicated files and subfiles with strict categorisation. He’s so organised that you’re usually the one asking him where something is.
- Leon would not give another person the time of day if they’re hitting on him. Since you began dating, Leon ignores any advances from other people to the point where he becomes visibly annoyed if they don’t take a hint the first time. He said it himself - he’s a one-woman type of guy.
- Leon runs hot at night. He also doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep, but he has trouble staying asleep because he often has nightmares. He instinctively reaches for you when he wakes up from a nightmare.
- Speaking of emotions… Leon used to cope with his trauma and emotions with alcohol before he met you. Leon wants to be present whenever he’s with you, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he were drunk in his free time. Being in a relationship with you also gave him the boost of motivation he needed to change his drinking habits, because he wants to be a dependable partner.
- Leon is a very jumpy person. He hates horror movies and jumpscares. Anything with zombies is totally off the table - for very good reason. You’ve developed a habit of announcing when you’re home, and purposely making a bit of noise before approaching him if he can’t see you. You hate seeing him jump out of his skin when he’s caught off guard - it makes your chest clench a little because of the reason behind it.
- Leon is a starer. He’ll often admire your face with a small smile.
- People who work with Leon have noticed that he’s gotten his spark back since he began dating you. Leon was previously known for being a brooding person, who always walked around the office with a furrowed brow. One time, Leon cracked a small smile at someone’s joke in the break room - his colleagues were so used to seeing him frown all the time that the room was momentarily stunned into silence.
- He’s the one who usually drives. Surprisingly, he’s actually a good driver in every day life, even though you’ve heard the vehicle auditors at the DSO chide him over the phone about the amount of vehicles he’s totalled on missions.
- When he doesn’t hear you the first time, he leans close to you and does a little “hm?”- it gets you flustered every time. He knows what he’s doing.
leon was the same man you'd known for the past six years. hardened shell, gruff voice, a body worn and rough from years of training and fighting—of surviving, never knowing if he’d even see the next sunrise. the dark circles under his striking blue eyes, the gentle wrinkles that adorned his face, and small creases around his mouth and nose showing glimpse of the rare moments where life had given him something worth laughing for.
moments with you.
he never thought he'd experience a love like this, didn't think he was worthy of it—of a dynamic like yours. the kind you'd see in 90's movies where the main couple grows old together, learning every little detail about each other until decades pass and their presence becomes something as familiar as breathing. a love that stays through cold winters, warm and sticky summers, floral springs, and muddy autumns. love that didn't fade with time, but instead grew alongside it, blooming quietly with every passing season.
the kind that made him feel embarrassingly soft and had him getting all gooey inside, blush creeping up the back of his neck before slowly traveling to the apples of his cheeks, grinning so hard his lips would quiver.
when he finally proposed, the ring he slipped onto your finger wasn't extravagant. it didn't need to be. it was thoughtful, carefully chosen, and carried every unspoken promise he struggled to put into words. a promise of every quiet morning, every ordinary day, every tomorrow he was lucky enough to have.
the vows he shared with you would keep you up on random nights, heart still thumping at the thought.
“i spent a long time thinking i wouldn't get a future,” he'd whispered, his thumb brushing gently over your hand as he held back a grin. “but somehow, I found one with you.” his voice trembled slightly, nervous.
“i can't promise that life will always be easy. i can't promise i'll never worry, or that i won't come home exhausted and stubborn…” a small laugh escaped him.
“but i can promise i'll love you through all of it. i want to spend every tomorrow i can get with you.”
little drabble bc im feeling sad and nostalgic tonight so i thought writing would get some of that weight off my chest + im sappy for old man leon
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