Often, I find myself thinking about what the Reader’s first and last version of her love interest was.
Leon’s Storyline:
Chris’ Storyline:
All I have to say is that it’s easy to pickup something but very difficult to give up on something you love…and this couldn’t be more true when you look the evidence above 🥲
could you please do the re men with a sick reader like a common cold or something, I myself am extremely ill right now with a fever and it feels like the end of me 😞
Dearest pookie, I truly hope you’ve recovered by now, as it took me damn near a millennium to pump out this request. Either way, I know you kicked that fever’s ass, bye-bye sickness! <3
Characters: Chris Redfield, The Merchant, Leon Kennedy, Jack Krauser, Piers Nivans, Luis Serra, Jake Muller, Carlos Oliveira
When the sickness wears you down physically, it hits Chris emotionally. To see you out of commission like this, completely deviated from your strong, happy self, hurts him like none other.
He’ll mix you up those vitamin C powders with electrolytes until he sees the glow return in your skin. As a matter of fact, he’ll continue making them for you until he sees fit…It’s become part of your daily routine—you’re not even sick anymore.
Other than this, he’s pretty “discrete” when he takes care of you. The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re incapable, or worse, belittle you. You’re not a child, but he loves you and wants you to take time to recover, not worrying about the mundane tasks life throws at you.
He takes the time to listen to you when you speak (even if congested), reciprocating storytelling, but he’s also watching you intently. While his eyes peer into yours, he’s really gauging your energy levels and the coherency of your story to discern where you are in the stages of recovery.
He isn’t the greatest cook for more intricate meals, but he’ll head out to your favourite restaurant, selecting nutrient-rich meals that’ll not only satisfy you, but heal you up in no time.
If he catches you mumbling to yourself about how you should later do some cleaning, he’ll ‘coincidently’ take up the chore. “I’ve been meaning to get around to this, anyways,” he’d say nonchalantly. (He’s got a note on his notes app for all the chores he will also ‘coincidently’ complete).
He set up a humidifier in your shared room, one that’s constantly running because he’s meticulously timing the intervals it takes for the water tank to deplete. He won’t let you lift a finger.
When night falls, and you’re having difficulty sleeping, he’ll wrap a heavy arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. “You’ll get sick, Chris,” you’d say in a weak attempt to push him off. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll recover. Right now, that’s what you need to do.”
The pressure of his arms over your shoulders helps the ache in your muscles, and certainly being able to smell even the faintest scent of him puts you in a lulled state, even if you’re a little stuffy.
The Merchant
His pockets run deep; he’s got an arsenal to heal you up in no time, even if the remedies are a little…out there… What can I say? He’s naturopathic.
“Ya’ know, in some of these rural parts, they consume a certain arachnid venom? Heals ya right up, partner!” It’s the thought that counts, right?
He is, without a doubt, a soup man. Not the conventional ‘buy the appropriate ingredients for a chicken noodle’ type, but rather ‘what can I make from the leftovers in your fridge?’
Expect a concoction of garlic, ginger, carrots, celery, onion, wait—did I just see radish? Potatoes, beef, cabbage, cauliflower, leeks, peppers, okra, and…
Somehow, the soup still tastes hearty, and it does provide the nutrients you need to regain your strength, not that you’re in any good shape to argue with him anyway.
Despite being constantly on the move (a man with no roots), he’ll settle down in your home for the duration of your sickness, offering himself as a support system or caregiver in your weakened state.
He’ll do your dishes (expect silverware to mysteriously go missing), bring your warm cups of tea, and place little trinkets on your nightstand that, in ancient societies, conjure health and healing. To your surprise, the small figurines do make you feel better, but whether or not it’s placebo, we’ll never know.
Whilst sitting on the edge of the bed, he’ll recount stories from distant lands that he managed to see rise and fall. It’ll put you to sleep, distracting you from the aches in your body. If he catches a glimpse of you dozing off, he’ll quietly shift from bed to chair, reading to himself in the event you need him when you awaken.
If you’re suddenly bombarded with a coughing attack, he’ll swiftly open the side of his cloak, pulling out a fresh pack of Halls before unravelling a piece and sticking it in your mouth. Next thing you know you’re blinking at him, unaware of what just happened, but your coughing has subsided, and your breath is minty. Double win.
Leon Kennedy
Nurturing you back to health becomes a mission. Everything else is secondary to your well-being, and he makes sure you understand that.
You quietly mentioned that your head hurts? Tylenol and a glass of water are summoned before you. You have the chills? Leon’s plugging in the heated blanket, wrapping it tightly around you. As well as himself for added warmth.
Even if you’re quite the independent individual, he’ll practically order you to stay put, saying something along the lines of “it’s my job to protect you” as you both sit casually on the couch. The environment is clearly not threatening, yet he makes it sound like this temporary illness and your adjacent recovery have been tasked to him by the government.
If you’re feeling especially sluggish, he’ll draw you a warm bath, carrying you to and from the washroom. He’s not too particular about the details, but he throws in some bath salts, replicating the time he saw you do as such.
He won’t leave you alone in your bath. He’ll sit on the tile floor beside you, elbows propped up over the edge of the tub. He’s brushing aside the damp strands of hair that cling to your face, admiring you even in your feverish state. You couldn’t feel more loved, more cherished.
He’s a classic chicken noodle kinda guy, and unlike the Merchant, he’ll buy the appropriate ingredients to make it for you. The recipe would be simple, nothing as elaborate as a 24-hour brew time, but just enough complexity that the dish comes out flavourful and nutrient-rich.
He’ll sit through any TV show or movie you want to watch, listening to your commentary attentively if it’s something he hasn’t seen. Despite your protest for him to keep his distance from you (so as for him to not get sick too), he’ll slowly inch closer towards you on the couch. You won’t even notice that he’s migrated from the couch’s edge to the crux of your neck.
What can I say? Leon’s quite the dedicated man.
Jack Krauser
Treats your sickness like it's a burden to you, to himself, and to everybody else involved. Jeeze, Pookie, why did you have to get sick? Clearly you could’ve avoided it.
But when he catches a glimpse of you bedridden, skin pale and flushed, eyes slightly sunken in, his resolve changes. The narrative of it being your fault becomes the malicious work of someone else.
“You better tell me who’s sick in the office,” he’d bark out, not daring to give you any reason to consider affection in his tone.
But the next thing you know, there’s an opening from a position previously occupied by one of your colleagues. Well, former colleague… Come to think of it, you actually never saw Mr. Lawrence again.
He’s not a man for cooking soups and time-consuming dishes—his philosophy is meat, grill, eat. But now that you’re stuck under 6 inches of blankets, it’s unfortunately become your philosophy too.
Anything from venison to beef steaks, smoked sausages and other protein sources acquired from hunting—it’s fresh on your plate. Don’t expect him to feed you; that's a job for yourself. The best thing Krauser could do for you is pre-slice the meat, cutting against the grain so you “don’t ruin a good cut.”
If you’re caught with a fever, he’ll silently enter your bedroom, roughly sticking a thermometer into your mouth. He’s keeping track of the numbers military style, only grunting a displeased sound if the temperature rises. Expect this to be done hourly.
It almost catches you off guard when he places a thick hand over your forehead. He’s completely untrusting of the thermometer’s accuracy, but he doesn’t make eye contact with you, afraid you’ll catch the sincerity in his eyes.
If the two of you share a bed, he’ll keep his distance from you, taking up residence in a chair in the corner of the room. When you finally do fall asleep, he’s watching your breathing, instinctively protective in his unspoken way.
If he could materialize it, he’d fight your virus, pummeling the sickness into the Earth. But that’s just a thought he’d never share with you, let alone consciously acknowledge it himself.
Piers Nivans
You’re literally healed within two days. He picked up on your symptoms before you even knew you were sick, weary about how you were suddenly drawn into yourself.
He spends a whole day brewing you a broth, rich with minerals and vitamins from specially selected bones sold only at that fancy butcher 4 blocks from your shared apartment. It’s quite expensive, but Piers will always make the sacrifice.
If you're bedridden or with a fever, he’s quick to change a cold cloth that’s grown warm on your forehead, keeping you refreshed in your weakened state.
Chores don’t go missed or pile up whilst you’re out of commission; when you’re back on your feet again, life will resume as if you had done all the work yourself. Laundry pile? The Laundry Fairy Piers has blessed us. Extra reports threatening to miss a deadline? The Report-Writing Fairy Piers blesses us once more. Carpet hasn't seen vacuuming? Well, you get the gist (the real question is whether or not he does these chores in a tutu and wings).
Honestly, he becomes clingy despite you being the one who’s sick. He truly hates to see you in this state, deviating from your usual self. Even if you push him away, afraid that he might catch your virus, he’ll sit on the edge of the bed asking if he can hold your hand.
If you feel lethargic or have muscle fatigue, he’ll spoon-feed you. Don’t feel bad about it—deep down, it makes him feel validated, worthy to be your partner. The fact that you trust him enough to see you even just a little mangy means the world to him.
Bonus points if you let him wash your hair. He’ll be asking you if you’re in need of a bath, gently prompting the idea. But in truth, he really just wants to help you in any way he can. If he can massage the fever-aches away, he’ll do it for as long as you need.
“I wish I was the one who was sick,” he’d say to you in a half-pout, and boy does he mean it.
Luis Serra
So damn dramatic you’d think he’s the one who’s sick.
It’s all, “Mi amor, how can I help? Oh, baby, woe is me!” He’d say this, reaching his arms out theatrically to you as you stand speechless in your house robe and slippers on the front porch. Keep in mind, it’s 2 am, you texted him you were feeling off, and now he’s at your door. Guess it is romantic.
He’s whipping up sopa de ajo at the ass crack of dawn, and your whole house smells like garlic. But we all know garlic is truly a remedy for any ailment, and Luis can’t have his wonderful partner beat down with a fever. He’s a man with a PhD after all.
He will spoon-feed you, even if you protest him. He’ll then go on a long tangent explaining how he made the soup and ask you several times whether or not it tastes good. For full transparency, it’s very good.
He goes on a cigarette detox for the duration of your sickness, not wanting to impede your coughing any further.
Luis will run you a bath; it’s the best way for him to be romantic, even when you’re out of commission. It’s no surprise that he’ll join you, hopping into the water, but he’ll hold you tenderly, allowing you to drift off safely so that you can make the most out of your bath.
Luis will offer to clean your house while you sleep, but he’ll just end up pulling things off shelves (in an attempt to dust it) and sit on your floor looking at scrapbooks of you as a child or photo albums of the two of you.
He’ll grieve your health as if this virus is the worst thing that has dared to stand between your relationship (you’ll be fine within a few days), gently caressing the photos of you when you weren’t sick. “Ah, look at what the sickness has done to you, cariño.”
To distract you, or lull you to sleep, Luis will recall old stories from his childhood in Valdelobos, describing how he protected the village ladies or saved a grandmother's cat from a tree. Whether or not there is truth to these tales, you do not know. But they certainly help you get a good night's rest, and they certainly humour you.
Jake Muller
Muchacho Brochacho isn’t the sentimental type; he won’t coddle you in the hopes that flowery gifts will make you feel better. Jake is practical and straightforward in how he takes care of you, or rather, how he tells you to take care of yourself.
“You should reapply your vicks,” he’ll say to you after eight hours, or “soup would be a good idea right about now.” Yeesh, nothing better than a man who mansplains.
But when the cocky brute catches wind of your heavy sigh or eyeroll at his unsolicited advice, he’s extremely quick to soften up. His unnecessary demands become quiet offerings; “you know,” he’ll mutter sheepishly, “I can run by that Chinese place you like. If you want anything…” Or maybe, “don’t push yourself, I’ll take care of it,” when you try to clean up the dishes from last night's dinner.
If you’re resting alone, lying in bed, he’ll quietly come up beside you. The distance is still palpable as he won’t suffocate you with cuddles, but he’ll carefully rest a large hand against your back, almost feeling guilty that you're dealing with something out of your control.
If the two of you are out in public, running errands that require your presence, he’ll be short-tempered with anyone who gives you trouble. He’s practically circling you like a guard dog, glaring at anyone who might look your way a little too long. You’re dealing with enough internally, so he thinks it’s his job to clear the way externally.
When you’re sipping on broth in the kitchen, he’ll stand behind you, gently squeezing your shoulders as a cheap form of pressure therapy. If you try to send him away, he’ll get fussy, arguing that he’s helping your blood flow and immune system.
Not that there are any proven facts; just having him near you helps with the sickness too.
Carlos Oliveira
This man seriously becomes your very own life-sized teddy bear. When he finds out you're sick, he’s moaning and groaning like he’s the one battling the fever.
He’ll rush over to your place, arms full of different kinds of remedies, from washcloths to VapoRub, and all kinds of ingredients for Portuguese recipes. Expect him to be living at your place for the next week…But who’s complaining?
Your kitchen will harbour rich aromas of spices and garlic as Carlos mans the caldo verde over the stove. It’s made with clean ingredients and all the love that man has for you, and boy, is it indefinite.
If you have chills from your fever, he’ll wrap you up in countless layers of blankets, as well as himself, to keep you warm and comfortable.
Your legs won’t be of any use for the duration of your recovery; Carlos insists on carrying you from room to room. Not only is it the greatest opportunity for him to flaunt his strength to you, but it makes him happy to know he can be of service to you.
In the morning, he’s practically begging to brush your hair, standing behind you in the bathroom as you rest your weary body against his chest. From all of this, it’s no surprise that Carlos is very clingy when you’re sick. It just pains him to see you like this, and he wants nothing more than to be with you.
Carlos will try to make you laugh, even in your weakened state. To see you smile despite your flushed skin reassures him that he’s doing something right. Plus, it’s a distraction from the worse feelings going on inside your body.
If you grow to feel tired from laughing, he’ll snuggle up beside you in bed, keeping you toasty despite the surplus of blankets already surrounding you.
“I’d kick this virus’ ass, ya know,” he’d say, “I wish you could see me roundhouse it into space.” His tone is silly, more so than his ridiculous commentary, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the love and care you receive from this man.
A/N: To all my dearest pookies, my greatest apologies for being absent! But I have returned to my keyboard and vow to write the wonderful requests you have entrusted me to complete. Oorah! Although my requests are currently closed (as I am chipping away at the current ones), I’ll open them back up in due time! xoxo
Pairings Leon Must Die Forever (Wolf Leon) x Fem!Reader
Word Count 5k
Genre: Fantasy Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling, Cozy Fantasy, Monster Romance, Humor, Drama, Domestic Fluff.
Content Warnings: Contains fantasy violence, blood and injury, mentions of death and grief, hunting, family conflict, prejudice against monsters, mild profanity, and non-sexual fantasy swallowing/vore for comedic and plot purposes.
What if a wolf Leon stalks a sweet lil red Reader a innocent lil snack walking elegantly down the forest trail a red hood wrapped around their body like gift just for him when he goes in for the attack but it’s stopped when they command Leon to sit…of course wolf Leon would never disobey his wife especially when she gives him head scratches especially behind his ears and makes his favorite food he loves his wife wrapped in her little red cloak he gave her
You were awoken by the rays of the sun spilling into your wooden cabin. The other side of your bed was empty. Leon must've left early to go hunting again. Lately, he'd been heading out earlier and earlier each morning.
Now, that wouldn't have been an issue if your husband brought home food like a normal person.
But that was the thing.
Leon wasn't normal.
Leon was a wolf—or rather, a wolf hybrid—a cross between a human man and a wolf.
You'd expect to find Leon tearing animals apart or ravenously devouring them at the dining table, leaving a mess everywhere. Blood stained the table and his face, with bits of an animal's fur and entrails clinging to his stubble. Granted, Leon was a messy eater in general.
But that made your marriage all the more exciting. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Making your way around the cabin, you found that Leon was nowhere to be seen. The house, however, looked freshly cleaned. He must've tidied everything before you woke up.
A small note rested on the table, written in Leon's familiar handwriting.
Good morning, gorgeous. I went out for a little walk. Be home soon. I miss you so much.
—L
A tiny wolf was scribbled beneath his signature.
It warmed your heart that he'd thought to leave you a note.
The sound of the cool breeze whispering through the lonely house reminded you of something.
Grandmother.
The village medic had delivered medicine for her, and you would've completely forgotten if you hadn't remembered just now.
It would be a long walk to your grandmother's house, so you needed to make sure you were dressed appropriately.
A new month had arrived, and with it came the changing of the seasons. Over the past two weeks, the snow had finally melted away, leaving the forest trails damp beneath your feet. The rivers, streams, and creeks ran crystal clear and refreshingly cool—perfect for taking a dip or rinsing the dirt, blood, and grime from Leon's thick coat after one of his hunts.
You held your hand through the crack in the front door. The air was chilly.
You'd need a coat.
Making your way back to the room you and Leon shared, you wrapped the hooded cloak he'd given you around your shoulders. It had become a little snug over the years as you'd grown into adulthood.
Unfortunately, you weren't like Leon and couldn't rely on a thick coat of fur to keep you warm.
Though you couldn't deny...
He looked incredibly sexy with it.
Soon, thoughts of food occupied your mind again. As you packed the medicine and other necessities for your grandmother into a wicker basket, you found yourself wondering what to make for dinner.
Leon had been behaving well lately. It had been quite some time since you'd heard complaints about him devouring an entire farmer's flock of sheep.
Maybe he deserved a treat.
"Should we have venison stew... or curry for dinner?" you wondered, looking through the cupboards and pantry.
"Hmm... I should stop by the market afterward," you murmured to yourself as you placed the remedies into the wicker basket before setting off through the forest.
The woods were quiet. The sounds of nature were peaceful as birds chirped overhead and ducks bathed beneath a small woodland waterfall.
It wouldn't be long before you reached your grandmother's house. You knew this side of the forest like the back of your hand.
Your mind began to wander.
Why hadn't anything interesting happened these past few years?
Granted, you and Leon had been married for fourteen years now, with your fifteenth anniversary only a few months away.
You smiled to yourself as memories drifted through your mind.
Unbeknownst to you, while lost in your thoughts, a creature stalked you from the shadows.
"Hmm... a fine specimen," a dark voice purred, licking its lips, its tail wagging aggressively
“a dangerous descion to wear such a bright color, my little snack..."
Their ears twitched as they watched you stroll down the trail, your crimson hooded cloak draped around your shoulders like a ribbon tied around the world's prettiest gift.
The creature crouched low, preparing to pounce.
With one powerful leap, it lunged.
Before it could even lay a paw on you, your voice rang through the forest.
"Sit."
You snapped your fingers pointing to the ground.
Without hesitation, Leon dropped to his knees, his body obeying the command before his mind could even process it.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Leon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Saying hello to my favorite person," he replied, giving her his best attempt at a pout.
A pout that might have worked twenty years ago.
"Yeah, that doesn't work on me anymore, Leon. You're forty-nine years old. I don't even know what that converts to on your mother's side, but you know that trick stopped working a long time ago."
The response she received was a defeated whimper from a fully grown…man? Wolf man was the better word
Despite how much she hated admitting it, there was something undeniably adorable about seeing Leon like this. For a man who could easily intimidate anyone else in the forest, he became almost helpless whenever it came to her.
A soft groan escaped you as you reached up, running your fingers through his hair.
The once-threatening wolf-man immediately melted.
She scratched behind his fluffy ears as he purred into her touch.
"So, where are you off to, my succulent snack?" he asked, kissing the insides of her palms as he gazed into the gorgeous eyes he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
"My grandmother's. She needed some herbs, and some Stella Rosa" his wife explained.
"Oh? Would you like me to come with you and escort you personally?" Leon purred.
"I think it's best you don't, seeing as the last time you were at my grandmother's house, you ate her... and I don't know what her reaction would be to finding out that I'm married to the exact person whose stomach she was digested in," his wife said with a snicker.
"Fine... I'll wait at home," he sighed before holding his paws to his chest and dramatically covering his eyes. "Alone... with no one to cuddle."
Rolling her eyes, she gently slapped the back of his head. "You'll live."
"Just go wait at home, and I'll be back sooner than you know. And if you're good, I'll cook your favorite soup for supper," she cooed, cupping his face with both hands.
"You know I can't resist your cooking."
"I know. That's why you should be a good boy and wait for me at home. Then I'll give you all the love you want," she said before their lips met in a soft kiss.
"What did I do to deserve you, my love?" he asked, hearts practically shining in his eyes as he gazed at the woman he loved so dearly.
"Eat my grandma," she replied flatly.
She gave him one last quick peck before heading down the trail toward her grandmother's house.
"I love you!" she called, her voice growing fainter the farther she walked away.
The quiet songs of nature left you alone with your thoughts...
Thoughts about your husband.
About how the two of you came to be.
It had all begun about twenty years ago. Your mother had sent you to deliver some supplies to your grandmother for her health. Not that she couldn't do it herself—she needed to help your father with something of the utmost importance.
Easy enough.
Give your grandmother what she needed, get home before sunset... or simply stay the night with her.
It sounded simple, right?
However...
You ran into a bit of an issue.
"Where are you off to, my fair lady?"
A soft voice suddenly called out.
Standing before you was something words could scarcely comprehend.
A hybrid of a man and a wolf.
However, that was even possible.
Heat crept across your face. For being a wolf-man—or perhaps just a wolf-boy—he was quite attractive. He had a youthful face, cleft chin and a pair of fluffy ears that twitched as he watched you.
"Why do you wish to know?" you asked, your eyes narrowing.
"Is it a crime to ask such a delectable woman why she might be traveling alone?" he replied with a pout, though you could tell it was only an act.
You studied the strange wolf-man. A fluffy, dirty-blond tail swayed happily behind him as he looked up at you.
"Are you enjoying the view, my lady?" he teased, his cheeks turning rosy.
"Sorry... I'm just confused. Please tell me you're not some cult mage. We have a lot of those back west," you said, gesturing toward the second pair of ears atop his head and the tail behind him.
He followed your gaze.
Never in your life had you seen someone—or something—like this.
Your heart pounded against your chest.
When you were a child, your uncle had filled your head with stories about the forest and the monsters lurking within it—wisps, wendigos, demons, and even hostile petunias. Your cousins had always seemed much more frightened than you, but the tales still left you wary of whatever called the woods home. Rumors of cults were common, especially around the churches.
All of those things were frightening.
But there was one thing even scarier than the monsters lurking in the night...
Your grandmother.
As a child, your grandmother had been scarier than death itself.
If there was one thing your grandmother hated—aside from mutts and dust—it was disobedience.
And being late.
You'd learned from a young age that your grandmother was not someone to take lightly. Even now, as an adult, you were still terrified of getting on her bad side.
Deciding to trust your instincts, you figured a conversation with this strange wolf-boy wasn't worth risking your grandmother's wrath.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question," the wolf-boy called after you, his voice sounding more genuine this time as he jogged to catch up, matching your pace.
"Leave me alone," you replied, keeping your attention fixed on the trail and ignoring the odd science experiment walking beside you.
"Look, I'm sorry. That was a bad way to introduce myself," he said, stepping in front of you.
"I'm Leon," he said with a bright, cheerful smile. "Leon Kennedy."
He held out his hand.
You glanced at it—or rather, his human hand... and paw? Then you looked back up at him.
Leon gently wiggled his outstretched hand, silently encouraging you to return the gesture and tell him your name.
You had to admit...
He had a cute smile.
The kind that made your heart soften.
Still, this felt like a trap. Giving him your name. Shaking his hand. Trusting a complete stranger in the middle of the woods.
Against your better judgment, you slipped your hand into his.
His tail immediately began wagging.
For a wolf-boy...
He had incredibly soft hands.
Leon repeated your name several times, each pronunciation somehow sounding more amused than the last until he let out a quiet chuckle.
"So I'll ask again..." Leon said with a grin. "Where are you off to?"
You stopped walking, hoping he'd continue down the trail so you could quietly slip away. Instead, your attention drifted to a patch of flowers growing nearby. Maybe your grandmother would like those, before you could reach them, a large paw wrapped firmly around your wrist.
"Don't touch those," Leon barked, his voice suddenly sharp.
"They're poisonous petunias."
Adrenaline surged through your body.
Not only had you nearly become a snack for the flowers that looked ready to bite your hand clean off...
But the enormous paw wrapped around your forearm and wrist reminded you just how easily this strange wolf-boy could overpower you if he wanted to.
"Look, I'm just going to see my grandmother," you said, gently pulling your hand free from his paw.
"Woah, jeez. Sorry. I was just trying to help," Leon said.
"Just leave me alone," you snapped.
The words came out harsher than you intended, but Leon only watched you for a moment before slowly turning away. He walked ahead until the trees swallowed him, and soon he disappeared from sight.
Eventually, you reached your grandmother's humble home.
It had grown much larger since your childhood. Your grandfather had added a second floor before he passed, expanding the little house you remembered so fondly.
Grandmother's yard, however, remained exactly the same.
It was always perfectly kept, filled with flowers you and your cousins had planted as children. Old toys that had been forgotten over the years were hidden beneath her enormous abundance of vegetation, swallowed by the life growing around them.
You often wondered if your grandmother would ever allow someone to help trim it all back.
You still remembered losing a stuffed animal somewhere in that garden years ago. Even now, you doubted it would ever be found.
Soon enough, you reached the front door.
Because you were the only grandchild who visited her regularly, your grandmother had given you a spare key to her home. As you and your cousins grew older, everyone else had slowly distanced themselves after...
The incident.
You pushed the key into the lock and opened the dark oak door.
Immediately, you were greeted by a strange scent.
A metallic, coppery smell mixed with the familiar freshness of peppermint.
"I'm here, Gigi," you called into the house.
No response.
"...Gigi?"
You stepped further inside.
"Grandma?"
Still nothing.
Then, a voice finally answered.
"In here, my dear."
You froze.
Because that voice...
It didn't sound like your Gigi.
Walking into your Gigi's room, you were met with...
Something horrific.
"Who the hell are you?!" you exclaimed, staring at the... thing sitting in your grandmother's bed.
"It's me, your grandma, Gigi," the creature said. Now even an idiot wouldn't fall for that.
Your grandmother looked like she'd seen better days.
"Menopause really hasn't been kind to you, Grandma. You look like shit. What happened?"
Normally, if you had spoke out the side of your neck to your grandmother, she would've slapped the piss outta you. And God help you if you dared say something like that while she was sick.
But you knew for a fact...
This wasn't your grandmother.
Especially considering the fact that her old constellation muumuu somehow fit perfectly around this creature's body.
"I-I brought you your medication," you stammered, carefully making your way toward the thing claiming to be your grandmother.
Could this be the wendigo your uncle always warned you about?
Then again...
Wendigos were supposed to look worse than this.
According to your uncle, they smelled awful, had little to no flesh left on their bodies, and carried themselves with twisted, unnatural postures.
But this thing?
It had fur.
"Thank you, my sweet," the creature said, reaching for the medicine. A deep grunt followed by a small whimper escaped its throat.
You narrowed your eyes.
For some reason, your grandmother suddenly had a very deep voice.
"Leon... is that you?"
You stared blankly.
The creature froze.
"No, no, no, I—"
Before "Grandma Gigi" could finish, you interrupted.
"I know it's you."
Silence.
"How?"
"Because you look like a wolf, damn it."
You crossed your arms.
"I know what my grandmother looks like. She's a human woman." you said aggressively "Okay... fine. It's me," he admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."
His ears lowered, guilt written all over his face.
"What the hell did you do to my grandmother, Leon?"
"I-I..."
He stuttered, struggling to find the words.
Then his expression crumbled.
Large, salty tears rolled down his cheeks as his body shook.
"I ate her."
Silence.
"You..."
Your voice was quiet.
"You..."
Your eyes widened.
"DID."
A pause.
"WHAT?"
"I was walking by and I cut my paw," he explained, his voice trembling. "I came here asking for help, but she started attacking me, and... and I panicked acted in self-defense. I was so scared of what I had done and before I had a chance to leave you showed up"
His words broke as he started shaking again.
A part of you wanted to be angry.
A part of you wanted to reach for the dagger strapped to your thigh—the very dagger your grandmother had gifted you, ironically enough.
But you couldn't fully blame him.
Your grandmother had always held a deep dislike for dogs.
Especially wolves.
You remembered one summer when one of your uncles' many wives brought a dog to visit. The animal attacked your grandfather, and without hesitation, your grandmother shot it.
The aftermath caused a massive family fallout.
You never wanted to choose a side.
Not that you could.
Your uncle's wife despised Gigi, and Gigi felt the exact same way toward her—especially after discovering that your uncle's wife had cheated on him multiple times, yet he still remained with her.
The tension only grew worse after the dog bite caused an infection in your grandfather's leg. His health slowly declined, and by the end of that summer...
He passed away.
Now, you were the only one who still spoke to Gigi.
You were the only family she had left.
And, in her own way, you were all she needed.
Though every now and then, she would admit how much she missed the sound of little footsteps running through her home. She missed you and your cousins asking for more cookies, filling her house with laughter.
You were pulled from your memories by a sudden sound.
The front door.
It had been kicked open.
Suddenly, a man appeared in the doorway.
He wore an awful-looking red flannel button-up and carried an axe over his shoulder.
"Oh, what the hell?" you exclaimed. "Who are you?"
"I'm here to save you," he said confidently.
Before you could even respond, he charged toward Leon.
"Die, you freak of nature!"
Fear overtook Leon.
He immediately backed away, cowering near your grandmother's vanity.
"What?! No! He was just defending himself!" you shouted, throwing yourself in front of the man.
"Move, woman."
With one harsh shove, he pushed you aside and advanced toward Leon.
Before you could stop him, the axe came down.
A sharp, agonized howl tore through the room as Leon cried out.
Your heart dropped.
Without thinking, you reached for your grandmother's defense stash.
A cyanide-tipped dart.
Normally, you would've questioned why your grandmother owned something like that but also it didnt surprise you, your grandmother had a shot gun so a cyanide dart was the least of your concern.
But right now?
You didn't have time.
You threw the dart toward Leon.
Your grandmother was suddenly expelled from Leon's stomach, appearing pale and shaken as she stumbled onto the floor.
You froze.
A thousand questions raced through your mind.
Mostly...
How the hell had Leon managed to eat her in the first place?
Before you could process it, Leon lunged forward and managed to overpower the man, knocking him unconscious, and stabbing him with the dart.
But the effort drained what little strength he had left.
He collapsed.
"LEON!"
You scrambled back to your feet and rushed to his side.
Moving as quickly as you could, you searched through your grandmother's drawers until you found her medical kit.
Then, without hesitation, you began doing your best to patch him up.
Your grandmother had finally returned to reality.
And she watched in complete disbelief as you stitched the wounds of the very creature she believed was a monster.
"By the gods' name... what are you doing?!" she demanded.
"Stop, child! Kill that beast before he hurts you!" Gigi shouted, her voice filled with fear and anger.
"Kill him?" you repeated, staring at her in disbelief.
"Gigi, he was acting in self-defense."
"Self-defense?" she scoffed. "That creature attacked me!"
"No, you attacked him first."
The room went silent.
Your grandmother's expression hardened.
"You would defend a creature like that?"
You glanced over at Leon, who lay injured on the floor. The same wolf-man who had annoyed you only hours ago. The same strange creature who had followed you through the woods, teased you, and warned you about the poisonous flowers.
The same creature who had just been hurt trying to protect himself.
"He's not a creature," you said quietly.
Gigi looked at you.
"Then what is he?"
You hesitated.
You didn't know.
You didn't know what he was, or how someone like him could exist.
But you knew what he wasn't.
"He isn't a monster."
Your grandmother scoffed.
"Look at him. He has the body of a beast."
"And you have the heart of a person," you replied. "But that doesn't mean everyone else with a different appearance is evil."
Gigi's expression shifted slightly.
"You don't understand, child. Things like that don't belong near people."
"Things like that?" you repeated.
Your eyes moved back to Leon.
"He has a name."
Silence.
"Leon."
The name felt strange on your tongue.
But not wrong.
"He told me his name."
Your grandmother stared at you.
"You spoke with it?"
"Yes."
"And you weren't afraid?"
You thought back to the forest.
To his silly smile.
His wagging tail when you shook his hand.
The way he warned you about the flowers before you got hurt.
"...At first."
You looked down.
"But he hasn't given me a reason to hate him."
Gigi remained silent.
For the first time, she looked at Leon not as a monster...
But as someone who was hurt.
"He still ate me," she muttered.
You paused.
"...Yes. That is something we are definitely going to discuss."
"Who the hell is that?" Gigi asked blankly, staring at the man unconscious on the floor.
"I have no idea," you replied. "Some random man who actually broke into your house... and he helped me."
Your grandmother stared at you, clearly unsure how to process that answer.
Before either of you could say anything else, Leon stirred.
Somehow, against all odds, he slowly regained consciousness.
Your grandmother immediately backed away several steps, fear flashing across her face.
It was something you never thought you'd see.
Your grandmother—the woman who had frightened monsters into hiding, the woman who feared nothing—was afraid of him.
"Leon..." you whispered.
His eyes slowly opened.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you looked toward your grandmother.
The conflict between you was obvious.
"You're hurt," you said quietly. "You need to leave."
You pulled off your red cloak and carefully wrapped it around his injured stomach, trying your best to cover the wound.
Leon looked at you.
He understood.
He understood the choice you were making.
The fear. The uncertainty. The impossible situation you had been placed in.
But he didn't argue.
Slowly, you helped him to his feet as he limped toward the door.
Before leaving, he glanced back at you one last time.
Then, without a word, Leon disappeared into the forest.
All that remained was a faint trail of blood leading between the trees.
And that was something you would never forget.
You snapped out of your lifelong flashback as you reached your grandmother's front door.
Twenty years ago, Leon had stumbled out of this very house, injured and barely able to walk. Even now, the scratch marks he left behind remained carved into the wooden door.
A small reminder of the day that changed everything.
You announced your arrival before unlocking the door.
"Grandma Gigi, I'm here."
You always made sure to announce yourself. As your grandmother grew older, her hearing had become a little worse, and her heart had grown more sensitive. She startled much easier than she used to.
"Hello, dear," she called.
You stepped inside to find her sitting on her multi-patterned sofa, holding a memory book filled with pictures of your family, her hand draped across your grandfathers empty arm chair next to hers. It hurt you a tad to know your grandma has been alone in this house for thirty seven years with no one to keep her company aside from your occasional visits, no excited cries of children, no late dances with her husband, and no family get togethers, but you knew she cherished each moment.
"Hi, Grandma," you greeted warmly, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"I brought you some purple coneflowers."
You carefully poured water into her favorite stained-glass vase—the one you had made for her ninetieth birthday and placed the flowers inside.
"What a lovely hood you have, my dear," Gigi commented.
Over time, your grandmother had changed.
She had become gentler.
Less tense.
The woman who once seemed impossible to approach had slowly become a sweet old lady who enjoyed doing puzzles with you, sharing memories, and spending quiet afternoons together.
"Thank you, Gigi," you replied softly. "I needed a new one after the last incident..."
The encounter with Leon had left her with lingering fear.
A wound that took years to heal. "Dear, when might you find a partner?" Gigi asked sincerely.
The question caught you off guard.
You had never told her that you and Leon were married.
But...
Would it really hurt to tell her now?
When would there ever be a better moment?
Your Gigi's time was slowly running out.
"I actually am already married, Gigi," you admitted, gently rubbing her shaky hands.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"You are?!"
A smile slowly spread across her face before she lowered her voice.
"When will I get to meet the nice gentleman?"
Gentleman.
The word made you giggle internally.
Granted, Leon could be a gentleman.
Sometimes.
Most of the time, he was simply a decent person with a good heart. He was especially gentlemanly after your... more intimate moments together.
But before that?
He was much more beast than man.
"I don't know, Gigi," you replied softly.
"Have you two had any children yet?" she asked.
Children?
The thought caused your mind to drift.
In your imagination, you could almost see it.
Little pups with your eyes and Leon's ears.
Leon had asked you about children every now and then. He loved you more than anything, and more than that, he loved the idea of having a family with you that came second to his undying love in his heart for you.
The memory reminded you of a conversation the two of you shared after dinner.
"If we have children, my dear, how many pups would you want?" Leon had asked.
He rested against you as you gently ran your fingers through his ears.
You never gave him an answer, but that didn't stop him from continuing.
"Maybe twins. Could you imagine if we had triplets? Cute little pups running around..."
He smiled to himself, placing a hand against your stomach as if he could already picture them.
"Little ones with your eyes...your cute little nose"
His voice softened.
"...and maybe my ears." his tail wagged at the idea, that was ten years ago since then Leon worried about other things
You spent the rest of your short little visit helping Gigi around the house. Or just sitting with her
Before you knew it, the afternoon had faded into evening. You glanced down at your pocket watch.
"Well, I should get going, Grandma. I hate to be a bother with... whatever it is you have planned."
"Aww, that's too bad," she said softly. "You'd never be a burden to me, sweetheart. But I understand you have your own things to do."
She gave you a warm, curled smile.
"Visit more often. You're always welcomed I love having you over."
"Of course, Gigi."
You leaned down and kissed her cheek.
"Wait, dear. Before you go, I made you something."
Slowly, she made her way over to the cupboard and pulled something out before handing you a corn husk bin.
"What is it?" you asked opening the bin.
"My curry," she replied. "Give it to your husband. If he's truly the one, he'll like it."
She gave you a playful wink.
Of course.
That made perfect sense.
Gigi's cooking was one of your fondest memories from childhood. She had always been an incredible cook, which was why you understood why Grandpa married her. That woman could make anything.
And by the gods, for someone who only cooked over a fireplace (as did any normal person in the country), she made the best curry and steak you had ever tasted.
It was another reason you loved staying at your grandparents home during the holidays. She’d make food that could rival the gods with flavors and spices that trescnded beyond the stars she’d be cooking in their kitchen while your cousins listen to your grandpa tell stories
She was the one who taught you how to make curry.
But yours never quite compared to hers.
So it only felt right that Leon got to experience the dish straight from the creator herself.
"I'm sure he will, Gigi," you said with a smile.
You closed the door behind you and locked it.
If you walked quickly, you could make it home before Leon finished his...
Whatever it was he did while you were away.
You never really asked about his hobbies.
Sometimes, when you did, you were met with a story about how he had nearly been shot.
Sometimes, those "nearlies" were lies.
Sometimes, they were actually true, and you would end up panicking while tending to his wounds.
Now that you thought about it, Leon should've been home. After all, that's exactly what he said he'd be doing before you left.
Sure enough, by the time you made it back, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon. After gathering everything you needed from the village marketplace, dodging those irritating villagers who always seemed to have something nasty to say about your husband, and securing all the ingredients for dinner, you finally stepped through the front door.
"Leon, I'm back!" you called into the quiet cabin.
The silence lasted only a moment.
Soon, the sound of excited footsteps thundered from the floor above.
Before you knew it, you were swept off your feet.
"Baby, you're back!" Leon beamed, lifting you into the air and twirling you around the room.
On paper, it was incredibly sweet.
In reality...
Leon had the strength of fifteen grown men.
Being squeezed by him wasn't always the most pleasant experience.
You could feel the love.
You could also feel the air being forced out of your lungs.
"Too tight, Leon," you wheezed.
His ears immediately drooped.
"Sorry, honey."
He gently set you back on your feet before flashing you an apologetic smile.
"C'mere. Let's cuddle now. I've waited so long just to hold you again. I want to hear that sweet little heart of yours beating."
It was adorable that Leon loved listening to your heartbeat.
To him, it was like your heart was singing directly to him—a quiet little reminder that you were alive, safe, and beside him.
"Not yet, honey. I've got to cook supper first."
You held up a finger between the two of you just as Leon leaned in to steal a kiss.
He froze with an exaggerated pout.
Then, almost instantly, the disappointment melted into an excited grin.
His fuzzy tail began wagging happily behind him.
You loved watching Leon's bushy tail wag.
It was a little more matted than it had been when he was twenty-one, and his once golden fur had grown slightly darker over the years. Here and there, little strands of gray had begun to appear.
You couldn't help but smile.
Even after all this time...
He was still the cutest wolf you'd ever met.
"What's that?" Leon asked, pointing toward the corn husk bin resting inside yours.
You glanced down before smiling.
"Funny enough, Leon... it's food."
His ears perked up immediately.
"It's my Gigi's curry."
"Oh, really?" he asked, his tail giving an excited wag.
"Yeah."
You hesitated.
"I... haven't told her you're my husband. but she knows that I have one"
The words came out a little more nervously than you intended.
Part of you still worried that Leon might feel guilty. After all, the first time he'd ever met your grandmother, he'd accidentally eaten her in self-defense before being gutted by a random man with an axe.
"...She made this for my 'husband,'" you continued, making little quotation marks with your fingers.
"And she said..."
You couldn't help but laugh.
"If he's truly the one, he'll like it."
"If I'm truly the one?" Leon repeated, tilting his head.
"My dear..."
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms snugly around your waist.
Those beautiful baby-blue eyes searched yours with a playful smile.
"I've been married to you for almost fifteen years."
He leaned his forehead against yours.
"What else do I have to prove to you?"
You laughed.
"I don't think she meant it like that."
"Well..." Leon hummed the deepness of his voice soothed your nerves.
"I already like your cooking, so I'm sure I'll love hers too."
"Good."
You gave his nose a gentle poke.
"Now go take a seat while I get supper ready."
"...After I change."
"Yes, ma'am," Leon replied, giving you a loving salute before reluctantly letting go.
When you returned to the dining room a short while later, Leon was exactly where you'd left him.
Patiently waiting.
He absentmindedly turned the wedding band on his finger, a small smile tugging at his lips as he admired it.
Around his waist was one of the little aprons you insisted he wear whenever he helped in the kitchen.
It looked almost comically small on someone his size.
You couldn't help but smile.
He looked adorable.
"Leon?"
You spoke softly as you stirred the stew simmering over the fire.
His ears immediately perked up.
"Yes, my love?"
You hesitated.
"Do you think..."
Your spoon slowed.
"...Do you think we're ready for kids?"
There was a faint nervousness in your voice.
The question alone was enough to send Leon's tail wagging behind him.
"I'm ready whenever you're ready."
His answer came without hesitation.
You let out a small sigh.
"I just..."
You stared down into the pot.
"I don't want to rush into such a big commitment."
You swallowed hard.
"My Gigi seems so lonely. All she has left is me."
Your grip on the spoon tightened.
"And I don't want her to be alone anymore...I would like her to have a great grandchild before she leaves, because well today she seemed weaker, and i think her sight is getting worse"
Your voice cracked.
"But what if I'm not ready?"
The room fell quiet.
Leon was beside you before you even realized he'd stood up.
"Hey... hey... hey."
His voice was gentle.
He carefully took the spoon from your hand and set it aside before cupping your face in his warm fuzzy palms.
"We don't have to have kids if you're not ready."
His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks.
"I'll admit..."
A sheepish smile crossed his face.
"I think about it a lot."
His tail gave another little wag.
"I think about little pups running around the house. Ones with your smile... maybe my ears..." he chuckled quietly.
"But those are just dreams."
He rested his forehead against yours.
"I don't love the idea of having children more than I love you."
His blue eyes searched yours.
"If it's next year, ten years from now, or never..."
He smiled warmly.
"...I'll still be the happiest wolf in the forest as long as I get to come home to you."
For a moment...
The only sound in the cabin was the quiet bubbling of the stew.
Hey, it's Kyra!
I hope you enjoyed my first Leon Kennedy x Reader/You fanfiction. I blanked out a lot while writing this story. If you couldn't tell, I may have favored the Wolf Leon idea, seeing as that's the only story I gave a sneak peek of from my Leon Kennedy story ideas. I do feel as though I perhaps went a bit out of character for him, but I tried something.
This story took me way longer than I expected. I started writing at 2 PM my time and didn't finish until 11 PM.
I also want to emphasize that the MC's relationship with Gigi resembles the relationship I had with my grandfather. My grandpa passed away later in May of this year. Growing up, we weren't the closest, and I wasn't always the nicest to him when I was a kid. As I got older, though, I really tried to build a better relationship with him. I talked to him more, texted him more, and wanted to learn about his culture, his history, and especially his cooking.
That's why I based Gigi on my grandpa. He was an amazing cook, and his curry was something truly special. A few months before he passed, I asked him how he made it since it was a family recipe that was only meant to be shared within our family. I wanted to learn how to make it myself. He told me he'd get back to me because he had something to do first, but unfortunately, he never got the chance.
Moments like these make me wish I had talked to him even more. I wish I'd had more time with him, and I wish he could have seen me go to college.
Thank you for reading, and let me know if you'd like me to write more fanfics like this.
