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The Late Groom (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Leon never would’ve thought he’d see the day he’d get married. Unfortunately, work had other plans.

Warnings: Re9 spoilers, brief smut

“October ninth, seven P.M. at city hall,” you reminded him as you helped him with his jacket. “Yeah, I remember,” he chuckled deeply as he turned to face you. “I’m not gonna forget, hun,” he reassured you. He couldn’t blame your worry, given the fact that he’s working this close to the wedding date. “You tend to get carried away with work,” you mumbled as you adjusted his collar. You glanced at the time, five P.M. “Hey,” he moved your gaze back to him. “I’m not gonna leave you hanging,” he spoke softly.

He doubled over, coughing. “Leon!” you tried to keep him from collapsing. “Leon,” you whispered as he stopped coughing, leaving him breathless. “I’m okay. Never better,” he croaked, shrugging it off. “You don’t have to work right now. You’re sick, Leon—“

“No, I can do this,” he looked at you. “I can do this.”

yulia812

Must read!!

#leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re9 leon x reader #re9 leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy

Hii!! It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been so focused on school and working nonstop that I barely have time to sit down and write anymore. I miss it, honestly. Writing has always been my passion — it’s a part of me and so is Leon. 🤍 I’m going to try my best to make more time for the things that mean the most to me

Thank you!! More fics are coming soon

anyways enjoy this Leon edit by a4thursrifle on TikTok 😛

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #announcement

“Before he finds the words “

Leon S. Kennedy! X FReader! one shot

—————————————————-—————————

It isn’t officially a date.

You both know that, even as you walk side by side through the dimly lit street, the city humming low around you like it’s trying not to interrupt.

Leon keeps his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed but alert—like part of him still expects something to jump out of the dark. He walks close, though. Close enough that when your arm brushes his, he pauses for half a second, then lets it stay.

You stop at a railing overlooking the street below. Headlights blur into soft lines of light. Leon leans forward, elbows resting against the metal, and for the first time tonight he looks… calm.

“This is nice,” he says, almost surprised.

You smile. “Yeah. It is.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s careful. Like both of you are holding something fragile between your hands.

You catch him glancing at you, then away again, like he’s working up the courage to say something and losing it at the last second. His fingers flex against the railing.

You laugh quietly.

He looks over, confused. “What?”

“You look like you’re about to apologize for existing,” you tease gently.

That gets a laugh out of him—soft, breathy, real. He ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks warming.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you say, smiling.

He straightens, stepping closer without even realizing it. Now you’re fully touching—arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder. His hand brushes yours, hesitates, then his pinky hooks around your finger like he’s asking permission.

You give it.

Leon exhales a small laugh, relief and disbelief mixed together. “Okay,” he murmurs, like he just made a decision.

The kiss is gentle. Slow. Almost shy.

His lips are warm, careful, barely pressing against yours at first. He pauses—giving you time—then relaxes when you lean in too. His thumb brushes over your knuckle, grounding, tender.

When you pull away, you can’t help it—you giggle. Soft and surprised, like happiness caught you off guard.

Leon laughs too, forehead resting against yours, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wow,” he whispers. “I—yeah.”

You bump his shoulder. “Very smooth, Kennedy.”

He grins, bashful and bright. “I’m working on it.”

The apology is still there. Sitting heavy in his chest. Waiting.

But for now, he stays close. Fingers still laced with yours. Smile lingering like he’s afraid to move and break the moment.

And you let it stay unfinished—

soft, warm, and quietly perfect.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy rookie

HEYA! Soooo i have a comsuming thought. Imagining Leon just being his self, doing some things that are normal to him, almost boring. Its perhaps a relationship in a honeymoon state... We cant open a jar so we call Leon to the rescue, he does it so easily. And reader be just standing with their mouth agape. Thinking "damn that was hot". I was thinking that there is many moments like these and you can summarize them, but! Big but, I dont want to limit you to my expactations, so either ignore or if you like this, do wtv you feel is right with this!

It is very fun reading your works! Happy new year 💖

“He makes it easy”

Request from @daervannafia (I enjoyed writing this , literally went in aww)

Leon Kennedy X F!Reader

Description: It’s never the dramatic moments that undo you.

It’s the way Leon opens jars without thinking, remembers what you forget, pulls you closer in his sleep, and makes ordinary life feel devastatingly intimate. A soft, domestic glimpse into the honeymoon phase where love isn’t loud—it’s easy, steady, and quietly consuming.

——————————————————————————

Leon does a lot of things without thinking about them, and you think that’s what makes it dangerous. He doesn’t perform his care, doesn’t announce it or wait to be thanked. He just does, and you’re left standing there afterward, trying to convince yourself your chest doesn’t feel tight for a reason. It starts small, almost insultingly small, the kind of moment you’d dismiss if it didn’t lodge itself so firmly in your mind.

You’re in the kitchen late in the afternoon, sunlight slipping through the blinds and painting thin gold lines across the counter. The apartment smells like coffee that’s gone lukewarm and the clean, unfamiliar soap Leon bought because it was on sale and he “didn’t see the difference.” You’re fighting with a jar of pasta sauce, jaw clenched, wrists aching, irritation building quietly behind your eyes. When it doesn’t budge, you mutter something under your breath and feel foolish for how much it annoys you.

Leon looks up from the doorway where he’s leaning, arms crossed, expression relaxed.

“Need help?” he asks, already stepping closer.

You hand him the jar without ceremony, trying not to think about how close he is now, how the heat from his body seems to bleed into yours. He twists the lid once—no effort, no hesitation—and the seal breaks with a soft pop. He sets it down like it’s nothing and turns away.

You don’t.

You just stare at the jar, then at his hands, your mouth slightly open as a thought slips in uninvited: Oh. That was hot. You hate how quickly it comes, how easily.

Leon notices a second later, glancing back when you don’t move. “What?” he asks, brow knitting faintly.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to smile. “Nothing.”

But internally, you’re already unraveling, wondering when something so small started feeling like this, wondering how many moments you’ve missed while pretending not to notice.

And it keeps happening.

Not the dramatic things. Not the kind of moments people would expect from him. Just Leon existing in ways that feel effortless. He reaches the top shelf without stretching, changing the lightbulb while you hold the chair out of habit. He carries every grocery bag in one trip, bumping the door closed with his foot, smiling faintly when you tell him he doesn’t have to. When the shower drain clogs, he kneels on the tile in an old t-shirt, sleeves pushed up, water dripping down his forearms while you sit on the edge of the tub and pretend you’re not staring, your thoughts embarrassingly soft for something so domestic.

You notice the sounds he makes when he’s comfortable. A low hum when he’s making breakfast, the quiet clink of dishes as he moves around the kitchen. He cooks without thinking about it, cracking eggs one-handed, sliding a plate toward you before you ask. You catch yourself thinking how safe it feels to be fed without having to ask, how deeply that sinks into you.

The honeymoon haze makes everything gentler. The world feels quieter when he’s near, like it’s learned to lower its voice.

At night, he takes up more space than he should, sprawled across the bed, one arm flung out. You curl closer than you mean to, telling yourself it’s for warmth, and his body responds immediately, his arm coming around you, pulling you in without waking. His hand settles at your waist, heavy and sure, like it knows exactly where it belongs. You lie there, listening to his breathing, thinking about how easily he holds you even when he’s unconscious, how that thought alone feels like too much.

In the mornings, he’s all warmth and weight, reluctant to move. When you try to slip out of bed, he catches you by instinct, tugging you back with lazy strength, face pressing into your shoulder.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, voice rough, half-asleep.

You always agree, because the truth is you don’t want to go anywhere either. You like the way his leg hooks over yours, the way his thumb traces slow, absent circles into your skin, grounding you before the day starts.

During the day, he stands behind you while you cook, close enough that you can feel him without being touched. Sometimes his hand brushes your lower back as he passes, a brief contact that sends your thoughts spiraling. He didn’t mean that, you tell yourself, and then immediately think, What if he did? He listens when you talk, really listens, eyes focused on you like nothing else needs his attention. It makes you feel seen in a way that’s almost overwhelming.

He walks on the outside of the sidewalk, guiding you there with a gentle hand at your back. When you’re cold, he notices before you say anything, draping his jacket over your shoulders and tugging it closer around you. When you’re tired, he pulls you into his side, lets you lean into him fully, never commenting on the weight, never making you feel like too much.

One evening, you catch yourself watching him lace his boots, fingers moving with practiced ease. Your chest tightens unexpectedly, a dangerous warmth spreading through you as you think, I could do this forever. I could watch him exist and call it enough.

Leon looks up, meeting your gaze. “You okay?”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He doesn’t push. He never does. He just reaches out, squeezing your hand once, solid and reassuring. That simple contact sends a quiet thought through you that you don’t try to stop anymore: I’m falling. I think I already have.

Later, curled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you realize this is what undoes you. Not the stories, not the legend. It’s the way ordinary life bends around him, the way he makes closeness feel safe, the way loving him feels soft and consuming all at once.

And if this is the forever with him , you think as his arms tighten around you, God help you you never want it to end.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy rookie #leon kennedy re2

Hey do you take requests?

Hii!! Yes, I do take requests—feel free to send me any ideas or prompts, and I’d love to write them 🤍

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you

“The Promise He Never Kept”

OlderLeonKennedy! X FReader!

———————————————————

You spent a long time training yourself not to listen for the sound of his boots in the hallway.

Not to expect your phone to light up with a blocked number and his voice saying, “I’m getting on a plane — keep the bed warm.”

Leon Kennedy had been many things — the man who stole your sleep, the federal agent with a perfectly timed smirk, the only person you trusted enough to hold you like you were something other than fragile.

But mostly, he was the man who walked away after promising he wouldn’t. He worked for the DSO — classified bioterror assignments, operations scrubbed from public existence, international flights with no manifest.

You learned how to kiss a ghost, and then how to mourn one.

That last voicemail still bruised your memory: his breath short, clipped, wrong.

“It’s complicated. A few days. I promise.”

There were no more days.No more explanations. Just silence brutal enough to question whether he survived.

So you rebuilt around the absence.

You stopped imagining the way he used to collapse onto your couch after a mission, exhausted but alive.

You stopped leaving the porch light on.

You survived him. Or thought you did.

But Tonight

You lock up the shop alone after close. The neon sign above you flickers violet and red, humming against the rain-wet air. You’re digging for your keys when a shape detaches from the dark at the far end of the lot.

You stiffen — ready to run or swing.

Then you recognize the way he stands — weight shifted off an old injury, hand loose but ready at his side, posture like a man who can’t stop expecting snipers.

Leon.

Not thirty. Not untouched.

Older. Mid-forties. Broad shoulders in a battered leather jacket. Hair longer, streaked with silver. A scar at his jaw you never got to kiss.

He looks at you like a person bracing to be shot.

“Hey,” he says — low, worn, painfully human.

Your pulse kicks hard.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Leon huffs a breath not a laugh, just something rough leaving his lungs.

“I know.”

“That’s all you have?” Your voice sharpens. “You disappear, no message, no goodbye — after promising you’d come back?”

He takes it like a blow.

“I didn’t forget,” he says quietly. “They pulled me into containment after that op. Three weeks. Then reassigned me before I could breathe.”

“So the government owned your phone too?”

His jaw shifts. “I tried calling from burner lines. Every attempt flagged. You would’ve ended up on surveillance lists. I wasn’t risking that.”

“What you risked was me thinking you were dead.”

Leon looks at the asphalt. Rain beads in his lashes.

“That mission killed almost everyone else. Diplomats. Support crew. My partner.” He swallows, throat tight. “I walked out with a report nobody wants on record. I came back wrong. I didn’t want you seeing that.”

“You didn’t want to be accountable.”

His eyes finally lift to yours — wounded honesty.

“You’re right.” He nods once, slow. “I ran because I couldn’t stand the version of myself that survived.”

Anger melts just enough for breath.

“So why now?”

“Because I got on another plane a few days ago and realized I never kept the one promise that mattered.” His voice frays. “I owed you my return. I owed you a goodbye. Hell — I owed you the truth.”

You step closer before you tell yourself not to.

Rain slicks his hair, drips down the line of his neck. Up close, you see the exhaustion buried deep in his face — those thin lines at his eyes from too many flashbangs and too little sleep.

“I waited for you,” you say. “Longer than I should’ve.”

Leon’s chest rises — a slow, stunned inhale, like someone letting pain move through the ribcage.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Not script-apology. Not badge-apology. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reach for you restraint is his punishment.

So you lift your hand first, fingers grazing the rough stubble along his jaw. His eyes close with the contact — not dramatic, but involuntary, like he hasn’t been touched just to be touched in years.

“Look at me,” you whisper.

He does. His breathing skips.

You move in not kissing yet, just sharing breath. His mouth hovers close enough to count heartbeats.

Leon slowly pulls one hand from his pocket fingers uncertain until you guide it to your hip yourself. His grip tightens on reflex, palm warm even through damp fabric.

“I’m out of practice,” he says, voice shaking with a soft, helpless laugh. “Combat makes more sense than you do.”

You tilt up and kiss him.

It isn’t smooth or cinematic..it’s hungry, uneven, the collision of two people who lived a thousand nights without warmth. His lower lip drags against yours, breath hot with mint and whiskey. His hand at your hip flexes, pulling you closer, learning the shape of you again.

Your fingers curl behind his neck, sliding into rain-wet hair. Leon kisses like he’s trying to memorize oxygen — slow, then desperate, then slow again, as if pacing himself against collapse.

He breaks for air, forehead pressed to yours, breath unsteady.

“You’re shaking,” you murmur.

“So are you,” he replies.

You slip your hands under his jacket, palms against the heat of his ribs. He sucks in a breath — muscles jumping under your touch. Years of tension unspool beneath your fingertips, scar tissue hidden beneath cotton.

Leon’s nose brushes along your jaw. His lips find your throat — not biting, not marking — just a slow, reverent press at the pulse. His breath maps your skin.

“Don’t push me away yet,” he whispers.

“I’ve had enough distance.”

That pulls a soft sound from him relief, disbelief. His fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, thumb sweeping a slow arc against bare skin, not possessive..grounding.

You lean into the heat of him, chest against chest. The rain is somewhere far away now, irrelevant.

“Stay tonight,” you breathe into his ear.

Leon goes still — stunned, cautious, wanting.

“If I stay, I’m not walking out in the morning just to vanish again.”

“Then don’t vanish.”

His forehead presses to your temple.

“I want to earn my way back,” he murmurs. “Slow. Honest. No disappearing acts.”

You kiss him again — deeper, steadier. His hand slides up your spine, holding you like an anchor. Not claiming — returning.

For the first time since he left, you don’t imagine the sound of boots walking away.

He’s here. Solid. Breathing.

And this time, he holds you like a man who intends to come home.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #re9 leon #resident evil requiem #leon kennedy x you #older leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy re9

“Coffee and Quiet Kisses”

OlderLeonKennedy! X FReader

(I literally love older Leon I need him bad, this is pure fluff )

————————————-——————————————

Leon sleeps like a man who’s spent half his life pretending he doesn’t need rest—one arm locked around you, forehead tucked against the back of your shoulder, as if letting go would invite the world back in.

He runs warm—warmer than he should—and it keeps the sheets kicked halfway down the bed.

You wake up to that heat, to the steady drag of his breathing against your spine, and to the quiet weight of his fingers, hooked in the waistband of your sleep shorts like he anchored himself there in the night.

The room smells faintly like coffee dark roast, the one he pretends he buys for you but secretly prefers.

You shift, just enough to breathe, and Leon tightens his arm before he even opens his eyes.

“Don’t,” he mutters, voice rough, scraped with sleep and age. It’s not a command more like a plea.

You smile into the pillow.

“It’s morning. People get up.”

“Let people,” he says, finally cracking one eye open. “I just want five more minutes.”

You turn under his arm until you’re facing him. His hair’s a mess—silver threading through the brown, falling into his eyes. He squints at you like he’s still processing the sight of you awake. Then his hand moves—slow, deliberate—up your back, thumb brushing your spine.

Leon always touches like he’s relearning you: warm palm to your ribs, fingers sliding along familiar landmarks, mapping the softness he never quite trusts is his.

“Morning,” you whisper.

He dips his head and kisses you not rushed, not hungry just a slow press that lingers long enough to say everything else. His stubble grazes your chin, your cheeks, warm and a little scratchy.

That’s what you love most about him now he’s gentle in all the ways life refused to be with him.

“You made coffee,” you say against his mouth.

He hums a quiet yes and kisses you again—your top lip, your bottom lip, the corner of your mouth—lazy, like he’s got nowhere else he’s expected to be.

“Thought you’d smell it and come running,” he teases.

“I didn’t,” you shoot back. “You dragged me.”

Leon smirks at that, brushing hair off your forehead.

“I’ll drag you anywhere you want.”

You shove his chest lightly and climb out of bed, but he catches your wrist, tugging you back long enough to pull one more kiss—slow, deep this time, thumb angling your jaw open just a little.

He’s not dramatic about it—no breathing hard, no tension—just a man who has finally learned softness and refuses to ration it.

In the kitchen, the morning light spills through the curtains. You barely reach for your mug before Leon slides in behind you, hands smoothing over your hips, chin finding your shoulder.

He kisses the place just below your ear—slow, lingering, like he’s warming his lips on your skin.

“That your good-morning plan?” you ask, leaning into him despite yourself.

“Want something else?” His voice is low, teasing, but his arms tighten just a little.

You place your hands over his and squeeze.

“No. This is enough.”

He exhales through his nose—a quiet, honest sound, like he’s relieved by the simplicity.

Leon’s never needed fireworks.

Just proof that the world didn’t burn everything.

You turn in his arms, looping yours around his neck. His shirt is soft—gray cotton, threadbare, clinging to shoulders broader now, heavier with time.

He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth again. Small, almost domestic kisses—habitual, affectionate, grounding.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I like the silver in your hair.”

He huffs a laugh. “Thought it made me look old.”

“It makes you look like you survived. That’s better.”

Leon pauses just for a heartbeat then presses his forehead to yours like he’s absorbing that. His hands slide up your spine, fingers curling in the back of your shirt, holding not tight, just close.

“You’re good for me,” he says quietly. Not dramatic. Not poetic. Just true.

You kiss him again slow enough he can feel how sure you are and his hands settle at your lower back, thumbs stroking small circles like habit.

Coffee cools on the counter.

The world waits outside.

But Leon keeps you right there held close, kissed warm, loved in a language that never needed words.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #re9 leon #re9 Leon Kennedy

“Death Island Leon Kennedy — Girl Dad Headcanons (Leon being a total soft dad with your daughter🤍)”

———————————————————

• Leon was terrified of being a father.

Not because he didn’t want a kid—

but because he thought he’d fail one.

When he held his daughter for the first time, he cried silently, forehead pressed to hers, whispering:

“I’m gonna do better. I swear.”

⸻

• Girl dad mode activated immediately.

Pink bows? He buys them.

Tea parties? He sits cross-legged in the smallest chair.

If she wants to do makeup on him? He shows up to work with glitter on his face like it’s completely normal.

Chris has photos. Leon is unbothered.

⸻

• She has him wrapped around her finger.

Everyone knows it.

He denies it—while handing her literally anything she asks for.

“Daddy can I have—”

“Yes.”

“Leon, she didn’t even finish the sentence—”

⸻

• Overprotective? To a dangerous degree.

On the playground he scans every adult like they’re an enemy target.

A kid pushes her? Leon gives the parent the stare.

You know the stare.

The one that screams “Try it.”

⸻

• He always smells like coffee, leather, and aftershave—her comfort scent.

When she’s scared, she grabs his jacket and buries her face in it.

He pretends he’s strong but his heart melts every single time.

⸻

• She calls him “Daddy” even as she grows older, and it kills him every time.

He pretends not to cry about it. He absolutely cries about it.

⸻

• Nightmare patrol.

If she wakes up scared?

Leon is up instantly—hand on his gun on instinct, checking the house before sitting with her until she falls asleep again.

Sometimes she tells him,

“Daddy, you’re like a superhero.”

He always answers:

“No, sweetheart. You’re the reason I keep fighting.”

⸻

• He teaches her self-defense.

She throws her first punch at 7.

Leon is torn between being proud and terrified.

“Good form—wait no—don’t punch your uncle Chris—”

⸻

• He has a folder in his phone labeled “my whole world.”

It’s just pictures of her sleeping, smiling, hugging him, wearing his jacket, drawings she made…

He looks at it on missions to calm himself down.

⸻

• The first time she says “I love you, Daddy,” he freezes.

Not because he didn’t expect it—

but because it hits deeper than any wound ever has.

⸻

• He becomes softer around her.

Laughs more. Smiles more. Talks about feelings more.

She brings out the version of him he was before everything.

⸻

• If she ever cries, Leon will literally lose his mind.

He drops to his knees immediately, cupping her cheeks, voice soft and trembling:

“Hey—hey, look at me. Tell me what’s wrong, baby. Daddy’s right here.”

⸻

• When she’s older and goes on her first date?

Leon sharpens his knife in the living room.

On purpose.

He gives the date that smile—the deadly one.

“Bring her home early. And alive.”

Chris bets he scared the kid half to death.

⸻

• He hugs her like she’s something fragile, but looks at her like she’s his entire world.

Because she is.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #death island leon #deathisland!leon #dad leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy death island

I REPEAT LEON IS BACK!!

Credit [email protected]

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #death island leon #dad leon kennedy #deathisland!leon #resident evil requiem

“I’ll come home to you”

Leon Kennedy x FReader (One-Shot)

——————————————————————————

You weren’t expecting anyone that late. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made every sound feel louder than it should. So when someone knocked on your door soft, hesitant your heart jumped.

Only one person knocked like that…

You opened the door, and there he was.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Dressed in his black tactical jacket, hair damp from the cold night, eyes filled with something he was trying and failing to hide.

“Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught.

He looked tired… no, not tired — haunted.

“Leon,” you said softly. “What happened?”

He stepped inside as if pulled by something beyond his control. He didn’t touch you, didn’t speak for a moment. He just stood there in your living room, staring at the floor like it held the answers he didn’t.

Finally, he exhaled. “I’m leaving in a few hours.”

Your stomach twisted. “Leaving? For what?”

He shut his eyes. “A mission. Spain.”

The words hit you like a punch. Spain. Across the world. Unknown danger. You knew Leon’s job was never safe — but every time he said goodbye, it felt like a thread pulling at your heart, stretching thinner.

“When were you going to tell me?” you whispered.

He laughed bitterly under his breath — a sound that didn’t belong to him.

“Wasn’t supposed to tell you at all.”

You blinked hard, trying to keep tears from gathering. “Then why are you here?”

That made him look up.

His blue eyes were glassy, vulnerable, filled with a fear you rarely saw in him — fear of losing something important.

“Because,” Leon said, his voice softened just slightly, “I couldn’t leave without seeing you. Not this time.”

Something in your chest broke.

He took a step closer, almost unconsciously, like gravity itself was pulling him toward you.

“I don’t know what I’m walking into. They won’t tell me much. Just that I need to leave tonight.”

He ran a his hand through his hair. “It feels bad. Different.” Your heart ached.

“Leon…”

He forced a smile — sad, crooked, trying to reassure you when he couldn’t even reassure himself.

“Hey. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be okay.”

But he didn’t sound sure.

You touched his cheek, gently. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

His breath stuttered. He leaned into your touch instantly, eyes closing like he hadn’t been touched with kindness in months.

“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly.

It wasn’t like Leon to say things like that.

But with you — he always let himself break a little.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He stepped into your arms like he’d been waiting for the invitation all night. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight it almost hurt — like he thought you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You felt his heartbeat against your chest. Fast. Unsteady.

“God…” he whispered into your shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Neither of you spoke for a long while.

He just held you.

And you held him back like the world depended on it.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face.

His eyes scanned every feature — slowly, intensely — like he was memorizing you.

His voice was low. “Can I stay tonight?”

You nodded without hesitation.

He cupped your face gently, brushing his thumb along your jaw.

“You make it harder to leave,” he whispered.

You smiled sadly. “Good. Then you’ll come back faster.”

He kissed you — soft at first, careful, almost uncertain. Then again, deeper, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

You felt everything in that kiss. Fear. Longing. Love he was too afraid to name.

His forehead pressed to yours. “I want to come back to you,” he said. “That’s what I keep thinking about.”

You took his hands in yours.“I’ll be here, Leon. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a shaky breath, the kind that carried every emotion he never said aloud.

You guided him to sit on the couch. He leaned back, pulling you against his chest, your legs draped over his lap. He held you like you were the only safe place he had left.

Hours passed like minutes.

He told you things he never shared — the doubts, the nightmares, the moments he pretended didn’t bother him. You listened. You held him when his voice shook. You kissed his hair when he fell quiet for too long.

He fell asleep for a while with his head on your shoulder, breath soft and steady.

You wished time would just stop.

But dawn came.

And with it, reality.

Leon opened his eyes slowly. The soft morning light made everything feel too real. Too final.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though every part of you wanted to scream stay.

He stood, then pulled you up with him, holding your face between both hands. “If something happens—”

“Nothing is going to happen,” you cut him off. “You’re coming back. You promised.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips.

“Yeah. I did.”

He kissed you one last time —passionate, long, slow, desperate.

When he finally let go, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I’ll come home to you,” he said. “No matter what.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I’ll be waiting. Always.”

Leon lingered at the door.

Then he turned away and walked into the morning light.

You watched him disappear down the hallway — your heart already aching with the weight of his absence.

But you held onto one thing:

He promised to come back. And Leon Kennedy never broke a promise.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you

“Across the Garden Walls”

Leon Kennedy x Princess!Reader One-Shot

Description: A princess bound by duty and a knight bound by oath find themselves drawn to each other in secret. In the quiet of the moonlit gardens, Leon and Y/N risk everything as forbidden love blooms between them love that could cost them both everything.

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The moon hung low over the castle gardens, silver light brushing the roses that only bloomed at night. You weren’t supposed to be out of your chambers everyone reminded you constantly: A princess should be protected, guarded, hidden from danger.

But tonight, danger didn’t frighten you. What frightened you was how badly you wanted to see him again.

Footsteps softened on the stone pathway behind you. You didn’t turn. You already knew who they belonged to.

“Your Highness,” Leon said quietly, voice rough from hours of training, “you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You faced him, unable to stop the smile that grew no matter how hard you tried to hide it. “And yet… you always find me.”

Leon stood in full armor except for his helmet, blonde hair falling slightly over his eyes. He looked every bit the kingdom’s strongest knight—loyal, disciplined, untouchable. Except when he looked at you.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“If the King finds out I’ve been meeting you out here—”

“You’ll be punished,” you finished for him. “I know.”

And still, neither of you moved away.

Leon swallowed hard, jaw tightening like it always did when he was trying to fight something he felt. “I swore an oath to protect you. Not…” He exhaled shakily. “Not to want you.”

Your heart skipped. The night seemed to pause with it.

You reached for his gauntlet-covered hand, gently guiding his fingers until they rested against your waist. “Then break the rules,” you whispered. “Just this once.”

His breath hitched. You felt him melt—just for a moment—before he pulled you fully against his chest. The metal of his armor was cool, but his arms were warm as they wrapped around you like he’d been starving for this.

“Princess,” he murmured into your hair, “tell me to stop, and I will.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, blue and burning in the moonlight. “I’ll never tell you to stop.”

That was all he needed.

Leon cupped your face with both hands, gloves falling to the ground as if he couldn’t stand another barrier between you. His lips met yours—gentle at first, then deepening, full of all the stolen glances and unsaid words you both had buried for months.

He tasted like honesty. Like everything you weren’t supposed to have.

When he finally pulled back, foreheads touching, his breath trembled.

“If loving you is treason…” he whispered, “then I’ll betray the whole kingdom.”

You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll betray it together.”

Leon’s fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hand like a vow.

The night felt endless around you, protective, silent.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like a princess.

You just felt like his.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #Leon Kennedy knight #leon kennedy resident evil

Hey everyone! This is my first ever one-shot, and it’s about Leon S. Kennedy (yes, the one and only). I’ve always loved his character. 🥲

“The Boy I Remember”

Leon S. Kennedy x F Reader (Y/N) Genre: Romance / Reunion / Comfort / Light Angst

Timeline: Resident Evil 2 (Raccoon City Outbreak)

When you were ten, you and Leon Kennedy built a fort in your backyard out of bed sheets and swiped flashlights. You used to call it your “safehouse.” The rule was simple: no matter what happened — scraped knees, bad grades, or thunderstorms — you could always run there, and everything would be okay.

That was the last summer before you moved away.

You remembered how he ran down the street as your family's car pulled off, shouting, "Write me, okay? Don't forget me!"

You didn't forget, but life had a way of making promises fade into memory.

Until tonight. The city was burning.

Your flashlight beam trembled as you made your way through the wreckage that was once Raccoon City's main street. The air was thick with smoke, and every shadow seemed alive. You had been helping people get out of the city when your group got separated-now it was just you, a pistol, and the echo of your heartbeat.

You turned a corner — and froze.

A police cruiser was parked sideways across the road, its lights still flashing red and blue through the haze. A figure stood near it, back turned, aiming at something moving in the dark.

“Hey!” you yelled. “Over here!”

The figure spun around, gun raised — and then his eyes widened.

“Y/N?”

You blinked. That voice. That face. It couldn't be.

“…Leon?"

For a moment, you forgot about the moaning and gunfire in the distance. He slowly lowered his weapon, his dirt-smudged face flickering with disbelief.

“No way,” he breathed. “It’s really you.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked older — broader shoulders, sharper jawline — but his eyes… they were the same, the same blue you remembered from those endless summer afternoons.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He gave a half-smile. “First day on the job.”

Your jaw dropped. “This is your first day?

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Guess I picked the wrong week to move here.”

You laughed despite the terror around you-soft and shaky, but real. And when he smiled back, it felt like being ten again, sitting under a blanket fort with flashlights and secret plans.

Hours later, you found yourself holed up in a small office of the RPD station, barricading the door with whatever furniture was possible. Leon was beside you, sweating and breathing hard, his hair sticking to his forehead.

You two collapsed against the wall when the noise outside finally quietened.

Leon breathed out, looking over at you. “You always did get us into trouble.”

You smiled weakly. "Pretty sure you were the one who dared me to climb Mrs. Jenkins' roof, remember?"

He chuckled — a real laugh, light and boyish. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“I remember everything,” you said softly.

The laughter faded, replaced by something heavier. You looked at him — really looked. That kid who used to trip over his feet was a man now, carrying the weight of the world with him.

He noticed your gaze. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “You just… changed.

Leon leaned his head, his eyes softening. “So did you.”

A long silence filled the room. The rain outside had started again, tapping against the window like the steady beat of time passing too fast.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” he said finally in a low tone. “When you moved, I tried writing but never knew where to send the letters.

You smiled sadly. “I tried too. Guess we both just… grew up.”

He looked down at his gloved hands. “Yeah. But I never forgot you.”

Something in your chest tightened. “You didn’t?

He shook his head. “You were my best friend. My only real one, back then.” He let out a quiet laugh. “I used to think if we ever saw each other again, I’d tell you how much I missed you.”

You felt your throat tighten. “Well,” you said softly, “here’s your chance.”

He smiled faintly, his eyes glimmering in the flickering light. “I missed you, Y/N.”

You let out a shaky exhale, heart pounding so loudly in your ears, drowning out anything else. “I missed you too, Leon.”

He reached out then-hesitant, like he wasn't sure he had the right-and his fingers brushed yours. The touch was small, fleeting, but it sent warmth rushing through your veins.

For a time, the horror outside didn't exist. Just you and him, in that quiet space between what was and what could have been.

Closure

Much later, when the shooting started again and you both were running through the broken halls of the police station, you couldn't help but look in his direction — the young cop who still held his gun as if it weighed too much, still made nervous jokes when things got bad.

But when he'd looked back at you, his expression hadn't been scared. It had been determined. Protective.

You made it to the second floor, lungs burning. Leon kicks a door open and pulls you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice rough with panic.

You nodded, chest heaving. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

He shook his head. "We're in this together. Always."

You smiled weakly. "Still keeping that promise?"

He looked confused for a second — then his eyes widened. No matter what, we'll always have the safehouse.

That's what he'd said to you the night before you moved.

You nodded. “I never forgot.”

Leon's lips parted like he was going to say something, but instead, he stepped closer, his hand trembling slightly as he reached up and brushed a streak of dirt from your cheek.

“You still smell like vanilla shampoo,” he murmured.

You laughed softly. “You still remember that?

“I remember everything,” he said-your words, turned back at you.

And before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you-gentle, hesitant, like he was afraid you might disappear again if he pressed too hard. The kiss tasted of rain and adrenaline and years of what-ifs. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Guess this is our new safehouse,” you whispered. He smiled, soft and tired and heartbreakingly human. "Then I'm never leaving it again."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy rookie #leon kennedy resident evil

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