Leon Kennedy Re2 - Tumblr Posts
Runoff
Right after your most recent breakup, you finally notice the guy that you know better than you know yourself.
a/n: for the anon who requested this one <333 hope u like my lovely!! the description doesn't do it justice but i hope i went along the same idea you were thinking <3 spellchecking and grammar died :))
tw: just fluff and best friend leon
wc: 2k
The sun warms your faces as you wander down the grassy path, a woven blanket and wicker basket in hand. Both of your timed footsteps are light, minds drifting on the breeze that carries faint haunts of fresh blooms through the air.
"The water looks beautiful," you say with a gesture toward the distant lake, its surface shimmering under the clear blue sky.
"It calls to the soul, this place." Leon replies, stopping to take in the quiet beauty surrounding you.
"It’s peaceful," you offer with a soft smile.
"Come on." He meets your eyes with a sly grin. "The perfect spot awaits."
You stroll a little further before coming to a strip of shore beneath an old willow's swaying branches. Laying out your blanket upon the grass, Leon begins unpacking your meal as you stretch out and relax, admiring the tranquility of the area.
“Much better than the neighborhood,” you comment, drawing a genuine laugh from him.
“That’s for sure. Aren’t you glad you came?” His voice, his question is uncharacteristically nervous, causing you to draw your wandering thoughts back in one place and look up at him.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just…” Leon sighs, dropping his hands into his lap, fidgeting with them. “Last time I asked, you said no.”
“And I told you I was out with my boyfriend,” you say gently. He doesn’t move. His fingers still and he slowly drags his gaze across your body, meeting your eyes as if for the first time. They look almost golden, slanted in the dying rays of the sun.
“How are you both, by the way?” he mumbles, not really sounding like he cares.
“We broke up a week ago.”
Even though you shouldn’t, you remember when your first boyfriend broke up with you in middle school, and Leon was there, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering consolations in your ear.
You suppose you’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known yourself. Finding yourself was something you couldn’t have done if it weren’t for his influence, pushing you away from what would’ve corrupted you and towards the angelic halo he wanted sitting on your head.
He protects you, and you protect him. That’s one part of your relationship.
"I always thought he cared for me, you know?" you say with a sigh. "I guess some things are just too good to be true."
Leon turns to face you, his dark eyes catching the fiery hues of the setting sun. "Don't say that. Any guy would be lucky to have your heart."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," you tease, nudging his ankle with your bare toes.
"I'm far from perfect," he says softly. A soft breeze ruffles his wavy locks, and for a moment you’re captured by the play of sunlight through his hair. How had you never noticed how beautiful he looked as the sunset lit up his features?
Shaking loose from your thoughts, you quip, "Could've fooled me. While I'm wallowing in self pity you sit there as calm as ever. Isn’t that stupid?" You nudge him again, hoping to evoke a smile - but his expression remains tender.
Leon tilts his head curiously. “No. Why would you say that?”
“I guess some part of me knew that if I didn’t have him, no one else would ever love me.”
Leon picks at the blanket, coaxing strands to peel away from the tightly woven fabric. “That part’s stupid. You’ll find the one.”
“Don’t get philosophical on me,” you tease. “I need someone to jar back to reality.”
“I’m not!” He protests, flushing. He turns back to the lake, to the ripples steadily running towards us. “He didn’t… like… after prom?”
“Leon!” You nudge him with your foot, exasperated. “He’s not that bad.”
“I know,” he replies, but he doesn’t sound like he’s convinced. “Watch the food for me?”
“Why?” The corner of your lip twitches. “Are you swimming?”
“Maybe.” Leon leans back on his palms, as if only considering this idea now, even when you know he only came here with the idea of a quick dip.
Nothing got him relaxed like floating, weightless, drifting along in dense water, consuming his thoughts as if absorbing his troubled mind, disappearing into the abyss below. You knew that from the absurd amount of times you’d seen him at the pool.
“I know you want to.”
His neck turns a light shade of pink. “That obvious?”
You nudge him forward. “Just go already. It’s already getting dark.”
Leon glances toward the setting sun, gauging how much time remains in the long summer dusk. Then, with a playful grin, he rises and pulls his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
You watch, fascinated, as lithe muscles shift beneath golden skin. His shirt lands in a warm heap next to you as he stretches his arms upward, arching his back like a cat awakening. Shadows accentuate his slender form while soft rays limn each contour, making poetry of lean lines that tell of wiry strength.
Gazing out over the waiting water, Leon takes a deep breath of anticipation. You see the subtle relaxation steal through taut limbs and tense shoulders. Then he turns, catching you looking, and laughter glints in rapt eyes before he shifts his stance back to the lake.
You settle back on your palms to watch Leon glide into the waiting water. His form cuts smoothly through the glassy surface, barely a disturbance in his wake.
Under the fading rose glow of sunset, Leon's pale skin takes on a luminous sheen you never quite noticed before. Ripples kiss the shore as he submerges fully, rolling beneath the water, only to emerge seconds later, shaking droplets from his disheveled hair.
You trace each bead's downward path, longing to feel their chill evaporate under searing fingers. But you stay put, watching from afar as Leon floats languidly, gazing up at the colors fading fast across the sky.
A sigh escapes you, matching the gentle swaying of reeds along the bank. You envy the placid waters bearing him, lapping coolness across his skin and easing all tensions. To have someone sink into such a soothing embrace - but your place is here, drinking in the poetry of his fluid motions beneath the dying glow of dusk.
<><><><>
“You’re not getting in my car dripping like that,” you deadpan. Leon kicks the gravel of the parking lot, outlined by the fierce sun, looking just like a guilty little boy.
“I didn’t bring a towel,” he mumbles. “Just this once?”
“I just- no!”
“Then how do I get home?” he asks softly.
You watch his eyes, blinking down at you, guilt steadily spreading across your expression as you switch your gaze between the boy standing in front of you and your car.
Equally steady is the childlike grin that Leon sports while he soaks the poor, newly refurbished passenger seat. You manage to at least throw down your picnic blanket before he sits back down, eyes narrowed at you.
“Either this or I stuff you in my trunk,” you reply smugly.
“No, no, it’s not that…” he says, trailing off. He shakes his head and twists to look out the window, holding his face in the middle of his palm. His shoulders are drawn back, as if protecting something.
After a few minutes of silence, you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
“That won’t work on me.”
A quiet huff. “It’s nothing.”
You pull up in your driveway but you don’t move to unlock the car. Leon's fingers freeze on the handle, terror flashing across his face. In an instant, you see all the emotions he'd kept bottled inside leak out like spilled ink.
Your questioning gaze pins him as surely as if you'd seen through flesh to the secrets of his heart beneath. For a long moment, the only sounds are crickets replacing daylight's song outside.
Then Leon snatches his hand back as if burned, stammering, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to–the door got stuck, that's all."
“That might be because I locked it.” You smile and cross your arms, waiting.
After several long moments, his shoulders slump in defeat. You look at Leon steadily, at his hands still resting on the locked door. His panicked gaze darts everywhere but at you.
"Leon," you say softly. "Talk to me. Why did you grab the handle like that?"
He swallowed hard, fingers twisting together in his lap. When he speaks, his voice is barely a murmur, like a preschooler admitting something wrong he did. "I just… wanted to get out, I guess."
You tilt your head, waiting for more. But you don’t expect a tear to slip from his eyes as he takes a wavering breath.
"Please don't make me say it," he whispers. More confused than intrigued, you rest a hand on his trembling arm, trying to ease his discomfort. When he flinches, you recoil, tilting your head as a sign for him to continue.
If it were anyone else, they would’ve missed the growing expectation spread plainly on your face. And it’s for that reason that Leon doesn’t persist. He knows there’s no use. He had to get to this point at some point.
He collapses against the seat, face crumpling. "I'm sorry, I-I have feelings for you, okay? I've tried so hard not to but I can't help it. And now you'll hate me and I've ruined everything-"
Gently, you lay a hand on his knee. "Leon. Look at me."
Reluctantly he meets your gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You give him a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to be nervous with me. You needed that, didn’t you?"
Leon shakes his head vigorously, tears escaping down his cheeks. "No, y-you don't understand. You were with him, you...you loved him."
His voice breaks on the last word. You take his face gently between your hands, gazing intently into his watery eyes.
"Leon, listen to me. We weren’t real. Nothing between us was real, hm?” He tries to look away but you hold him fast. "Why do you think we broke up, huh?” Your voice sounds dry with amusement but you can’t seem to make it sound any other way right now. “Because every time I was with him, all I could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, how you make me feel."
Leon lets out a soft sob, pressing his eyes closed, spindly, dew-dropped eyelashes brushing against his raised cheekbones. You press your forehead to his, wiping away a falling tear with your thumb, feeling like you’ll never need anything else. Just him.
"It's always been you, dumbass. I'm in love with you."
Before he can protest further, you kiss him intensely, and under your lips, you feel him melt, molding into your hands. Gently, you caress his cheek again, your thumb gliding soft as a veil of rain across his trembling lips.
His eyes flicker shut at the ghost of your fingertips on his skin. Beneath your hands' worshipful mapping, Leon's trembling fades, body loosening like the reeds sinking into the peace of the lake.
His lips, yet tingling from your kiss's imprint, curl softly at their edges - the whisper of a private smile meant for you alone. He pulls away from you, sniffling, running a hand under his nose, chuckling softly.
“So…” Leon’s fingers lace with yours, breathing life back into the twilight air. “Guess we’re finally figuring things out, huh?”
“Took us long enough.” You brush your hair back behind your ear, eyes glinting mischievously up at him. “Who would’ve thought all it’d take was trapping you in a car?”
Leon groans and buries his flushed face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me. I still look insane, don’t I?”
You tap his chin until his shy eyes meet your gaze. “You could never look anything but beautiful to me.”
“Such a charmer. No wonder I never stood a chance.” Leon’s blush deepens, crimson against the pale hues of his skin, teeth clicking together softly. He’s shivering, you realize.
“I think you’re the only one who ever stands a chance, love.” You drum his nose before grinning. “You’re cold. Come inside, I’ll get a bath started.”
And on the way inside, fingers intertwined with his, you make a promise to yourself.
Never let him go.
Draw me like one of your french girls, Leon👉🏻👈🏻
Imagining him as jack in titanic is sending me to oblivion rn
Back to the Sea
The mysterious stranger on the boat happens to be your roommate and you can't help but wonder who he is. Something about him captivates you, but what happens when an artist loses his brush?
a/n: so... this is all @chesue00's fault. dont get me wrong ilysm pookie but i cannot tell you how much this was going through my head the entire day like i wanted to get home so badly and write this i almost told my teach to fuck off... but thank u ur so talented it hurts like that inspired me sm and thats what art should do! ty! <333
tw: angst?? bc its not my fic unless its got angst (hopefully...) uhm mentions of like illnesses and the flu and stuff but idk help
wc: 5.2k - yes im not even kidding i wrote this all tdy and its not even grammar checked will do that later hehehehehe <333
As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the vast expanse of the ocean, you sit at the edge of the ship, gaze fixed on the endless waves stretching out before her. The gentle sway of the ship beneath you, the salty sea air mingling with the haunting cries of the seagulls soaring overhead; it all served as a reminder of sorrow and loss that clings to you like a heavy shroud.
You take it between your fingers, as if you can feel the harsh, unforgiving ivory material form under your hand, and wrap it around yourself tighter, cherishing the small bursts of warmth you get from sitting up here.
Each wave that laps against the side of the ship fails to cover the whispers of the crowd steadily disappearing around you, pointing fingers shamelessly, wondering why a girl your age is sitting, all alone, staring wistfully out at the cerulean abyss.
Someone clears their throat behind you. The last thing you want is to be bothered, so you twist over your shoulder to dismiss them, but somewhere up your throat, the words clump together into a soft gasp.
You have seen him around the ship, when you were first boarding, but you didn’t get the best look at him. Now that you do, you know one thing as true as the sky is blue.
He’s breathtaking. His eyes, reflecting the azure of the ocean, flash with lightning quick irritation, as if your presence inconveniences him. The curve of his lips set in a straight line, tightening almost imperceptibly, jaw clenching ever so slightly.
If you weren’t looking so hard, you could’ve missed it all.
But how could you miss anything he does, when each ripple of his feature is like a brushstroke? An artist’s slow, deliberate intentions, painting the man in front of you.
“You are taking up the seat,” he mumbles, so quietly you almost don’t catch it. “Apologies,” you respond, shifting to make room for him. The dip between his eyebrows deepens and you find yourself frowning back. “Is something wrong?”
His gaze clouds, turning a muffled shade of gray. “No.”
You hum in response before turning back to the ocean. The heavy silence writhes between them, its unseen grip tightening with each breath. Your mind churns, sensing dark depths his haunted eyes warn away.
So you stand and stroll away, not sparing a glance at the brooding figure. You don’t wish to descend into his sorrow. You have enough of your own, and the tension crackling between you is nearly tangible.
You know well that behind every handsome man, there is a troubled mind.
And the windows to those thoughts are the eyes.
<><><><>
“If the brothe bee to sweete, put in the more wine, or els a litle vineger.”
You recall this line from a cookbook your mother once owned as you stare down at the barely distinguishable liquid in a bowl in front of you. Chips of wood flake off and dissolve into the mess of what you think are minced vegetables pooling at the bottom. Though the bubbles of oil faintly remind you of home, nothing else is the same.
You can’t remember the last time you had traditional soup, from the homeland, where everyone's the same as you and food is plentiful, rich in the scent of tangy spices and fresh vegetables and ripe fruit, where the forest birds sing sweet melodies in your ear.
But you are no longer there. It will, as all things do, fade with time, resolving as just a landscape drawn in your head, reduced to nothing but scribbles.
With a sigh far too troubled for your age, you gingerly push the bowl away, careful not to slosh any of it over the edge. You know you are being picky; food is food, and starvation will slowly creep up on you when you least expect it.
But it is better to starve than throw yourself from the starboard, letting the choppy waves consume you. Hunger takes time, crescendoing pain and ache until you cannot bear it. Suffering will suffice, at this moment.
And across the dining hall, the small room housing yet a few late night eaters, you spot him saunter in. Long, black trench coat brushing his ankles, a hat you did not see that now casts shadows upon his chiseled face.
His overalls strain with effort and crumple into wrinkles as he sits a few tables away, raising a hand, wordlessly summoning a bowl of soup that carries from tentative hands. He waves the aged woman away, and perhaps he does not catch the longing look in her eyes.
She has not seen a man so divine in years. Her time at sea has clouded her judgment. This is yet another reason why you must traverse the ocean blue, to prevent the jobs piling up at what you thought was your home, near the port, where the docks carry back the ashes of your family.
You used to love the ocean, the beach, the shores. When the sea hurt you, your father would kiss the tears away, murmuring soft assurance in the shell of your small ear. Although she was nearly a decade older, your sister would never decline an offer of yours to hunt for the little creatures that popped up from the swirling sand, watching them disappear underneath your slow hands.
You miss them. Influenza never failed to take, take, take; the greedy fingers latched on to your family before you could arrive home that day to sick corpses so pale you could not recognize them.
The doctor had suggested a traditional burial,but you knew there was one more thing the sea needed. You lit the pyres, watched their souls mingle with the smoke that gasped for the clouds, and waited.
When all that was left of your loved ones was charred, ivory dust that seemed to sparkle back at you, unaware of its fate, you gathered it into a pot that your grandmother gifted you.
The ocean rejected your offering, at first. It veered away, pulling water from the shore lines, but you stood fast. And it came back, gathered what was already gone, and took it away from you.
The sea never fails to remind you of what you’ve lost.
But here, on the ship, a marvel of engineering, keeping you afloat, you are not truly with the sea. You will not make yourself mold to the pitiful, lonely girl everyone expects you to be.
With that resolve, you cradle the soup back to your chest, staring it down with defiant eyes. The ocean will not have another victim, you will make sure of that.
It burns your throat all the way down, saltier than the sea. Bile raises to combat it but you force spoon after spoon into your stomach. All that remains from your battle is the wood, which you tried your best to separate from the soup, but you are sure that you definitely swallowed at least some of it.
As the thinnest definition of dinner warms your insides against the cold that threatens to seep in, your eyes find him across the galley. He sits alone, as always, nursing a tin cup and gazing into its contents as if answers lay within.
You recall your chance encounter in the night, the rare moments of grace amid tumult never far from his eyes. Though he often keeps away from the streams of people, you have the feeling it has less to do with aloofness than wounds not easily unveiled.
As if finally sensing your gaze, his eyes lift and meet yours across the dusty space. There seems to be no cracks in his steely expression, his stormcloud eyes, but there is a flicker of emotion - curiosity, or perhaps kinship's first stirrings.
You offer the barest nod before returning focus to your meager meal. Yet all the while, currents stronger than the sea pull at your thoughts, drawing them ever back towards that quiet figure and mysteries that beg to be revealed. You tilt your head to the side, rubbing fingers down your neck, feeling your pulse race underneath your skin. Massaging the area, you force yourself to relax.
You force yourself to believe that those eyes haven’t jarred your thoughts.
<><><><>
“I must… have the wrong room.” Those same eyes stare back at you, hands trembling slightly around parchment yellowing at the edges, swirling with confusion. “I apologize.”
“It wouldn’t, by chance, be 930, would it?” you ask.
“Er… yes,” he admits with a dip of his head, looking almost embarrassed by the situation. “I suppose I’ll go request another-”
“It’s quite alright,” you race to say before you can stop yourself. “I do not mind.”
A small corner of his mouth lifts, if only for a second, and when his expression goes back to being neutral, you find yourself wanting to coax more emotions from him.
You help him get settled in, telling him he could take the bed on the right. When he’s finished fussing with the sheets, you sit on your respective mattresses, awkwardly staring down at your hands.
"I... thank you," he finally replies, his voice soft. "I did not expect to find understanding here."
“Your name, sir?”
“Leon. Your name, I already know.”
“How fascinating.”
“You are a… popular subject of gossip upon this vessel.”
“Why are you traveling to England?” you ask, finding yourself making small talk to switch the topic. “Are you simply traveling?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your hometown?” His eyes glaze over with the familiar homesickness you can recognize.
"My home lies in a small village far from here," he replies, gazing into memories only he could see. "A quiet place, surrounded by green countryside and simple folks." His eyes find yours with rare openness. "And you? What brings one so young to cross the sea alone?"
“I’m paying my lovely aunt a visit,” you say vaguely, trying to make your voice light. But he must hear the undertones of it, because he cocks his head to the side, arching a golden eyebrow.
“Is that so?” he muses. “I hope you enjoy your trip.”
“I’ve noticed you carry that briefcase around quite a bit,” you say, quickly changing the subject. “Is it dear to you?”
He laughs, a warm, rich tone that sparks something in your heart.
Maybe… just… maybe?
“Not so,” he explains. He leans over to grab the case resting on the nightstand and clicks it open. “This is the reason I am traveling, you see.”
You peer over the top of the rusty case to reveal… pencils?
“You are… an artist?” you ask, slightly confused. You hadn’t taken him for a participant of the fine arts, but at your query, his eyes seem to light with an inspiration not previously there.
“I have lost my flame,” he says slowly, cautiously, as if placing his words carefully. “I thought England would fix… the problem… but perhaps… you could help me?” At your face, he bites his lip. "A smooth sea never makes a skilled sailor, as they say."
“Who has ever said that, and who am I to decline a stranger in need?” You chuckle, and his grin seems to usurp his entire expression.
“You need not do anything,” he rushes to say, hands flurrying to unpack the materials carefully stowed away in the briefcase. The determined, set look on his face is enough to convince you, and even if it hadn’t, realistically, would you be able to say no?
He stills suddenly, observing you, sweeping over you, drinking in everything, as if to absorb your being. When his gaze meets yours, he smiles and it truly reaches his previously emotionless eyes.
“You are… perfect,” he whispers. He holds his pencil up, bottom lip disappearing as he frowns, grumbling in frustration. “But this lighting is… not quite correct.”
Leon eyes the room, then stands suddenly. You watch him, watch him drag a chair from the small writing desk over to the foot of his bed, planting it firmly. He points a finger to the empty space, gesturing for you to sit there.
“What exactly are you planning?” You ask with a smile.
The one he returns matches your curiosity. “We shall see.”
And that is exactly how, a few minutes later, you sit with your legs crossed, hands folded over one another in your lap, with a soft smile decorating your face.
“You must stay still,” he chastises, gazing at you with a languid look in his eyes, voice dreamy, as if he sees something in you that you can’t.
“You have not yet answered my question.” You ignore the red blooming up your neck at his fluttering gaze. He lounges further into the bed, hiding more of himself away, spinning the pencil between his fingers.
He looks almost thoughtful as he scribbles away, muttering to himself, lost in a trance. You lean against the dresser, resting your body weight on it, feeling yourself relax.
His eyes move back to you, and he jolts, like something drastic has changed. His hands fly rapidly across the paper, gaze locked onto you. He smudges something with his finger, erases something here and there, and eventually, he huffs a sigh and leans back, looking somewhat satisfied with the paper.
Intrigued, you stand from your position, stretching your stiff joints. “May I see?”
Leon snorts a laugh. “Of course not.”
“It is my portrait, no?” You grin. “Show me.” Without another word, you lean over the foot of the bed, over the elaborate carvings of wood, and try to sneak a peek at the paper.
He lets out what you can only describe as a boyish squeal, and yanks the pad away from you, clutching it to his chest. “I said no!”
Leon tries his best to play-keep away from your hands, folding the paper carefully in half as he stuffs it into an inner pocket of his shirt. When you try to reach for it, instinctively, he flushes a red hue that matches the crimson of your bedsheets.
“Apologies,” you whisper.
“It’s alright,” he whispers back.
The air has gone back to tense, anguish, as if you are both hurtling towards something you cannot stop, racing towards a finish line in a race you do not wish to compete in. When he climbs into bed, wordlessly, you wonder what you did to deserve this torture, to have a masterpiece sleeping a few feet away.
He purses his lips and blows out the flame in the lantern standing proud on your nightstand, murmuring a quick goodbye.
As your eyes adjust to the absence of light, you watch the blanket blow out around him, creeping over his body, hugging him tightly. His snores come quickly, gentle and quiet, not bothersome.
You sigh and close your eyes, wishing for the relief of sleep to come as fast as his.
<><><><>
Strangely enough, someone rouses you from your sleep, something you didn’t expect. Breakfast calls were a luxury reserved for those with money, but you weren’t going to complain. Missing the first meal of the day had serious consequences in your household.
This isn’t your household, though. These aren’t your rules.
And that definitely isn’t a handkeep’s fingers clutched around your arm.
“Leon?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes, savoring the fuzzy corners before every comes into focus with sudden clarity. He stands beside your bed, gaze darting here and there.
“Oh… you are awake,” he says as he isn’t the reason it is so.
“You woke me,” you state blankly, blinking up at him.
“I suppose… well,” he mutters, then sighs, shaking his head. “Never mind that.”
“How often does this happen?” you ask quietly, sitting up. “Are you plagued by night horrors?”
“I am not a child!” he snaps, then immediately softens, regret pooling in his eyes. “It is just… I thought you had left…”
“Yet I am here, no?” you say, slightly bemused. The tips of Leon’s ears turn a salmon pink as he lets out a shuddering breath, nodding.
“I see that,” he says with a small smile, sitting beside you, leaving enough space to respect your privacy. You return one with just as much carefully measured emotion, not wanting to scare him away, wanting him to open up.
As gray dawn spreads its thin wings slowly over calm waters, he recollects himself. He tells you fragments of his past, picking up pieces of his past until it fits into a puzzle perfectly. An orphan, talent stripped from him by the urge to survive.
You faintly think that he should also be a writer, because the way he tells his story is akin to the way an author paints a scene with just words. You can see his parents in the shadows, echoing in his laugh, in the slant of his nose, the pucker of his chin.
He shrugs, twisting to face you. “I almost died, there, on the streets.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
His eyes meet yours, “So am I.”
Seeing him in such a vulnerable state, you can’t help but feel inclined to share what truly happened to you as well.
“I’m not… just visiting my aunt.”
A ghost of a smile graces his lips. “I was thinking as much. Tell me, what is the true purpose of your visit.”
“My family recently passed from influenza. Only sorrow trails me in the States. Perhaps returning to my hometown will provide… solace?” You offer a dry laugh, but Leon’s expression goes stony as he takes your hands into his.
“I… did not know,” he says, sounding as sincere as you’ve ever heard him. “I made such a joke without understanding the full context… I apologize.”
“It is really nothing,” you rush to assure him, but more so because the crestfallen look on his face is something you do not wish to bring upon. “I forgive you.”
“You are still tired,” he says with another sigh. “I will wake you for breakfast. Sleep.”
He’s right. Too sleepy to protest, you clutch the blankets around you and shut out not only the slowly growing beams of sunlight from the window, but also the relief that emanates from Leon’s very being, flooding over you, bringing you the peace that lets you drift off.
<><><><>
You wake to frigid air seeping through cracks in the ship's walls, clouds hiding the sun’s bright smile. Throwing off your thin blankets, you grasp the warmth, hoping it still lingers. But your hand meets only cold, empty fabric.
Panic rises in my throat as you rush from the sleeping quarters. Out on the icy deck, figures hustle to and fro under a pale, stormy sky. Your eyes scan for one in particular, relief flooding through you as you spot his lean form near the rail, gaze lost to the sea.
"Leon," you call softly so as not to wake the other sleeping passengers. When he turns, worry is etched into his brows. You brush it off with a shaky smile. "I had feared the night's dangers had claimed you at last."
“At last?” His lips turn up in return, reassuring you with his movement. But you can see the shadow neither of you could outrun, not with Death stalking your decks in his grim dance.
Drawing near, you trace his stare to the horizon, limitless and cold. You stand in front of him as he lingers behind, hesitating, arms outstretched.
“I wish to fly, one day,” you say jokingly. “But I suppose for now, swimming will do.”
“I cannot swim,” he admits quietly. “I never will.”
“Of course you can,” you insist. “Anyone can-”
“Not everyone has lost their brother to the sea.”
The answer burns, searing your back in the way he delivers it, venom in his voice. But eventually, he sighs, as if giving in, and you can feel him get closer.
“May I?” You admire that he asks before anything, and when you nod, he wraps his arms around your waist, pushing you gently against the railing that you clutch tightly. He rests his head on your shoulder, craning his neck to stand comfortably.
Then he speaks again. “My deepest apologies. As you can tell… I miss him.”
"Then we'll face such fears together," you say with such finality you believe it yourself. "None are meant to wander depths of sadness all alone. But your brother's memory lives on you - a gift more precious than any sea could claim. I know this. And what are you doing now?”
Slowly, you can feel his lips curl upwards against your neck, sparking at your words, growing into that smile you’ve come to cherish.
“You wish to fly? This is as close as I can get you, beloved.”
With a grin of your own spreading across your face, you outstretch your arms, leaning into the wind, wanting to let it carry you both away. Your fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, coming to rest on his beating pulse that lives on despite all the world has tried to steal away.
You don’t know what overtakes you, the immense feeling of admiration you feel for him, that might be what spurs you to lean in. And, much to your surprise and pleasure, as soft morning light limns sea and sky in a hopeful blend of blue, your lips meet in a kiss - brief, chaste, yet speaking everything you need to hear.
“At least I’ll have you,” he says, melting back into your embrace, tightening his arms around your hips. “One thing the sea will never take.”
But you should’ve known.
The waters are never done taking.
<><><><>
You do not know when the screams started. All you know is that they came with the rough tides, crashing against the boat, with the crackle of thunder and smoke hissing in the air. Everyone rushes to cram into the sleeping quarters, but living near the port all your life, you know better. You know exactly what is happening.
The boat is sinking.
And strangely enough, your first thought is to find Leon. He had asked you to wait a quiet moment on the deck, and you had both dismissed the rolling clouds, steadily creeping towards you while he disappeared below the deck.
You had been hoping that he would show you his art. Now you hope that you can get him out in time. But before you can scrunch up your dress and scramble into the quarters, someone grabs your arm.
You do not see the face. You know it is not Leon, he is infinitely calmer and more gentle than the rough fingers of whoever your captor is. As you struggle to look up at the face, you are tossed into a boat that hangs on the side of the ship.
“Women and children first!” a gruff voice calls out, presumably the one that just manhandled you. You try to protest, saying you need to go back, but the small boat fills up quicker than you expect, and eventually you are being slowly lowered down onto the choppy waves.
You stand on tiptoe, trying to make out any sign of Leon on the ship, hoping he makes it out okay. The people rowing the boat harshly yank you down before pushing away from the boat. Every stroke they make takes you farther and farther away, until the dense fog shrouds the entire ship from your view.
And the unexpected happens. You hear a loud crack and the boat immediately splinters into two. The women and their children huddle to one side, the bigger side, while you and some other girls stay put, eyes fixed on where you last saw the ship.
With no one to steer, you veer back towards it and it comes into view, only this time, it is on fire. Flames lick the sides, hissing where it meets the salty sea, climbing up the ship. And you see the mess of blond hair that you so desperately recognize.
“Leon!” You shout, screaming for his attention. His eyes snap to your general direction, scanning the area with a wide, panicked expression before landing on you. Almost immediately his face softens before it returns to its stony, default look.
You are confused for a moment before he quickly surveys the area. A raft hangs from the side, unused, calling his name, and you realize with shame that your boat is starting to sink, dipping into the water.
You and the other girls lean to the other side, pleading for help. Summoning all fading strength, you yell his name once more as waves close over your head. Darkness swallows your cries, drowning them in the murky ocean depths, yet in your fleeting consciousness, your trust for him remains like the anchor you wish him to be.
Breathless, gasping, you break the surface amid a sea of shrieks and sinking debris. There through the smoke a ragged shape appears, slicing swift as any bird towards you. Strong hands grasp and haul you aboard the makeshift raft, lying there to cling and spend your remaining prayers in thanks to Leon as he attends each soul amid the roiling deep, ferrying them from the ocean’s inky grasp with steady hands and calmer gaze.
“Are you alright, dear?” he calls to you after the third and final girl is pulled to safety, gasping for breath. “I did not expect this situation whatsoever.”
“Neither did I,” you murmur, spitting the remnants of the salt in your throat back into the sea, like returning a gift. “I suppose we will be alright now.”
Leon’s face crumples. “I’m afraid not.”
You groan. “What is it now? Is it the sharks from the depths? I will fight them with my bare hands, just you watch!”
You watch his expression flash through amusement, then back to pain. “We… I…”
“What troubles you so?”
He gestures a hand to the sea around you, to the drenched figures, far too many for the raft to carry. You realize this with the drop of your heart.
“There are too many of us,” he says apologetically, like he’s only hurting you. “One of us must leave.”
For a second, you consider pushing one of the girls off. Anything to keep him. But you realize that your selfish thoughts should not take control. You grab his hands, clutching them tightly, holding them to your chest.
“Then it shall be me.”
Leon offers a weak smile. “No.”
“No?” you sputter. “What- it was not a question!”
“It will not be the answer either, my love,” he says gently, prying his hands from yours. “I will be the last. Please make sure of that.”
And before you can plead for him to stay, his weight shifts and you can feel the raft rising again. He casts one more, sorrowful look at you before he glides into the water, descending effortlessly. You reach for him, and your fingers brush his knuckles before he disappears forever.
Before he is gone.
Yet another loved one.
Lost to the sea.
<><><><>
You wait for an indeterminate amount of time, waiting for the news to arrive one day at your aunt’s doorstep, that he is still alive, awaiting your arrival in some uncharted region. But no such idea comes. And eventually, the denial washes away and you are left with the loss that nothing can fix.
You rock in the chair of your living room, the smell of your aunt’s soup no longer bringing saliva to your mouth, but tears to your eyes, because now everything reminds you of Leon.
The bell rings outside and you can’t bring yourself to rise and answer the door with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Your aunt knows this, so without sparing you another look, allowing you your privacy, opens the door just a smidge.
She makes conversation with the person standing outside before turning back to you with a soft smile. She hands you an envelope, and you cannot lie when your heart races up to the sky, finding purchase in the fluffy clouds.
You cannot find the words to thank her, but she knows this as well, and walks away without another word. When she disappears behind the kitchen corner, you rush to open the letter.
The first words send your heart plummeting back to where it was, perhaps even crashing through the layer of obsidian and burrowing itself in a place where it will never return. But upon scanning the rest of the thoughtful, heartfelt message, there is a tug that forces you to check the rest of the envelope.
And when you unfurl a piece of paper, long since forgotten in your brain, you muffle a cry with the back of your hand, the parchment trembling in your five, shaky fingers.
It is the portrait Leon drew of you. It made its way back to you.
You know, after seeing this, there is one thing you must do. You lie the paper down on the round table beside you, careful to preserve it.
You wash up, put on a dress your aunt lent to you, a blue, rippling thing that seems to reflect the ocean waves back at you. You tie your hair up, wanting to look somewhat presentable.
And you call out a goodbye to your aunt, who’s smile you can hear in her voice, evident as she waves from the kitchen, ecstatic to see you out and about. But there is only one place you must go. One thing you must do to find the closure you are aching for.
Back to where it all started.
<><><><>
Tears that are the crystals of salt found in the ocean's depths stream down your face, as unnatural as the mixture of saltwater and freshwater, where one stops, another begins.
In the ocean, you slip from your skin, thoughts descending down a mad spiral, the spirits watching as you mingle with the essence of saltwater stinging your sunburned skin. The night air does little to nothing to cool your thoughts.
Is he there? In the droplets that cradle the back of your hands, trickling from the pool cupped in your palms. You can see him standing, just a few feet away, knee deep in the water, as constant as the waves and as calm as the tides.
Leon’s hair waves in the moonlight, a silent greeting to you, cerulean bathing his face in a ghastly blue, making him seem more and more like the ghost he is.
You raise a hand, out of instinct, choking back a sob.
A smile curves those salty, timeless lips.
“You left me too,” you whisper through tears, crystals disappearing under the crescents of water brushing against your shorts. “Why can life not just be… easy? Simple?”
Leon chuckles, face softening in sympathy. “Did you forget what I told you already?”
You lift your head, rubbing granules of sand against your nose to muffle your sniffling. “What?” His grin is somehow both brighter than the moon and darker than the water you can’t see through.
“A smooth sea never makes a skilled sailor.”
Your Hero
Friendly neighborhood Spiderman, huh? You wouldn’t have expected your new dorky nerd best friend to be passing in the shadows of the charming hero behind the mask, hanging upside down and staring at you with odd interest. Why does he seem oddly familiar?
a/n: @candlekiss THIS HAS BEEN FORMULATING FOR QUITE A WHILE... ITS JUST BEEN MARINATING... TRUST ME THE BEST FOOD GETS MARINATED FOR LIKE THREE YEARS 😭😭😭
UR ART INSPIRES ME SM !! NEVER GIVE UP ON UR DREAMS BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SCENARIO WITHOUT YOUR ART I WOULDNT HAVE "to keep an angel" OR THIS FIC!! ILYSM MARI <3
college leon art omg mari u are such a queen (bt dubs college leon is literally this hes a dorky nerd 🤓💗) nerd!leon art here
tw: fluff from college leon and spiderman leon because they've both been swirling in my mind fr !!
wc: 3.3k
To be fair, you didn’t pay much attention to Leon at the beginning of the semester. You kept to your separate corners of the world; his being the potted plant near the doorway, where he stood with a bag slung over his shoulder every day, eyes narrowing at the watch on his left wrist, and…
Maybe you have paid attention to him.
It was a dance you had forgotten you’d learned, talking with him. He’s not the same guy you remember from high school, the one who always stuttered through answers and pushed his glasses up when the class mocked him.
The only person being mocked seems to be you now, three weeks into the semester, and the dip of your already fluctuating grades is enough to spur you to find a tutor. Your professor doesn’t seem to be much help, offers you a weak smile and a shrug and tells you to find resources elsewhere.
And you find it in the once, now self-assured straighten of his back as you snake around the crowd to tap his shoulder, grinning broadly.
“Heard you’re pretty good at this stuff,” you offer vaguely. Leon cocks a brow and you don’t expect the amused smile on his face to cause you to feel flustered.
“Guess I am,” he replies, and it seems that not only has his personality and appearance changed, but his voice is at least an octave deeper. It resonates through your entire body in a way that's difficult to describe. “Why? Need help?”
An awkward silence stretches between you as the implications of his altered tone sink in. Clearing your throat, you shuffle your feet and continue, "So, uh, when are you free?"
Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. "Is lunch okay for you?"
You consider it for a moment. “Wow, are you asking me out?”
He winks and you just about buckle to the ground. “Didn’t you come up to me first?”
<><><><>
The chair makes an absurdly loud sound when Leon scoots closer, hands clenched around the base of his seat, a bashful smile on his face as he waves his apologies to all the wandering, hesitant eyes that meet you.
It’s been about a month, and there seems to be no progress with your grades. You would consider dropping him altogether if it weren’t for the strange fact that you enjoy his company, cherish that he takes time from his evidently busy schedule to tutor you.
“Go on,” he prompts when you snap back to attention, startling from his fingers waving in front of you, brushing your nose. “What else did you notice?”
“There was definitely a lot of conflict in the last few scenes,” you mutter, trying to recall last night’s frantic reading that he had assigned three weeks ago.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t really say death is conflicting, would you?” he replies dryly, dropping his head to glance up at you from under his glasses, and therefore, his long, wispy eyelashes. They reflect the dim lights of the library, seeming to sparkle and illuminate his eyes.
“... yes?”
“No one dies,” he says, stirring from his position once again to stretch his arms against the table, lying his cheek onto the muscle of his bicep, staring up at you with a puffier face. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
“... no?”
“I can’t be here forever,” he whispers, quietly, only for your ears. “You know how many things I have to be doing. Put the effort in. For me, please?”
And something about his tone is so sincere, so genuine that it makes you want to try harder, push yourself, do the homework on time and actually do something about your grades.
<><><><>
You’ve grown to consider him a friend. Your grades have lifted, as has the burden from your shoulders, head high when you stroll out of the lecture hall, and spot Leon fumbling with the vending machine nearby.
It’s a habit to startle him whenever you see him outside of classes, yet you don’t understand the strange looks you get. In any case, he is infinitely a better person than you had expected, better than everyone you had tried to get with initially.
He flinches at your touch, fingers creeping between his arm and torso, wiggling to spark a surprisingly tired laugh.
“What kept you up all night?” you tease. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing of the sort,” he responds gruffly, eyes softening in exhaustion. “That would be better than what’s going on right now.”
Leon is a reserved man. He trusts you to some extent, where, on the other hand, you’re ready to give your life for him. You get attached quickly, what can you say?
<><><><>
You’ve grown used to barging into your shared rooms, not announcing your arrival, often catching Leon off guard, staring down at something on his phone before he shoves it away, that same embarrassed expression slipping off his face when you ask what’s wrong.
You arrive back at your dorm after a long day of classes, exhausted and looking forward to relaxing. But what’s past that door is everything that you would think not to expect.
"Oh- hey, you're back!" Leon says with a grin. But that's not all that catches your attention - your roommate has a bizarre outfit on; a brown, crinkled leather jacket, cargo pants, something that looks horrifyingly bland on him. And is that a splash of blue you see peeking out from underneath everything?
"Uh, Leon..." you reply, taken aback. "Didn't realize you were into cosplay. Something you need to tell me?"
"It’s, uhm, complicated," Leon replies vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s just say I have some important work to take care of."
"Right, because you're secretly the city’s hero," you deadpan, still not sure whether to believe this outrageous claim. “Well, come back soon, alright? I need help decoding chapters 18 and 24.”
“Of course,” he says with a wink. “I’ll just be a minute.”
But a minute goes by, which you expect, but then that minute morphs into a hour, and then two, then four, and eventually you’re worriedly pacing your dorm floor, awaiting a phone call, text message, anything to just know-
The phone vibrates a moment later as you rush to fish it out of your baggy pockets, jamming your finger against the notification.
Of course its not him. An unknown number, something fairly recognizable but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The hometown seems to be somewhere far away, starting digits something you don’t have the time to search up when the next text pops up.
Come outside? :)
who is this?
I just have your notes. Hurry up.
oh, thanks! gimme a sec
You remember requesting notes to study from Leon, but he gave your number to his friend, without your consent, might you add, so this must be him. He deemed this friend was far more outgoing, far more entertaining, a better person to hang out with.
You don’t expect Spiderman to be this friend of his.
<><><><>
“I’m starting to think you like me,” he jests, months later, on one of his patrols of the city. He always swings by your window, conveniently always timing his visits when Leon’s out with duties at the police station. You want to deny the accusation, but can't bring yourself to lie to the webslinger perched outside your window.
Not when those masked eyes peer at you with such care and familiarity. Like they see straight into your conflicted soul.
Not when you don’t want them to hang out. Of course not. The problem is your heart is pulling you in two different ways, down two paths that never intersect, and navigating these tangled feelings seems impossible without hurting one of them. They're so alike, yet fate keeps your two dimensions apart. You don't know how much longer your heart can take the strain.
But you bottle it all up, every little bit of you that screams to be adored, cherished in the way they both look at you, one through a mask and the other through glasses, both doing little to nothing to hide their emotions, the expressive raises of their eyebrows.
They’re definitely like each other, a little too much, you suspect.
A sigh escapes your lips. "It's not that simple. You both..." You shake your head, not wanting to put either in an awkward position. Some walls are better left unbreached. "Just focus on helping people, okay? That's what's really important."
He crouches silently beside you for a while, sensing your troubled thoughts without needing to be told. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle.
"You seem really down. What do you say I take you around the city for a bit? Might do you some good to get some air." He nods toward the skyline glowing in the dusk. "No better view than from up high, if you're up for it."
You eye him hesitantly, unsure if facing your feelings while swinging between skyscrapers is the best idea. But it has been so long since his invitation stirred your spirit rather than your heart. And you could really use a distraction.
Gripping his offered hand, you nod. "Sure. Why not? I definitely might not die from this."
Spiderman chuckles, pulling you firmly against his side. "You better hang on tight then."
A spray of webbing shoots forth and you're jolted into the air, wind whipping around you both. Your uncertain thoughts fade against the euphoria of flight.
For now, it's just you and the freefall through flooded lights.
And the handsome, mysterious, masked hero you’re wrapped around.
<><><><>
“I can’t see you anymore,” your hero mutters one night as you push the window open, eagerly awaiting his tranquil presence, the idea that he takes the burden, the pressure of school off your shoulders, sharing the weight of the sky with you.
“What?” You stare up at him and he stretches, seemingly uncomfortable.
“Can we talk?” He gestures down at the alley between your dorm building and the conveniently close laundromat, however loud the broken washing machines get.
“Yeah.” Your lips form a purse, behind them, your thoughts are clumsy and tie themselves in a bow around your tongue, presented to Spiderman as broken sentences as you approach his state.
He’s hanging upside down, face tilted curiously, in a crouching position, held by only the thinning strand of web, and you wonder how that small thing is able to carry such a physique.
“I’m putting you in danger,” he protests a few minutes later, standing in front of you, back turned away as you lean against the brick wall, crossing your arms with a stubborn huff.
“Have I died?” You shake our head like a little kid. “No!”
"What's your endgame, huh?" he asks in desperation, wildly turning to confront you. "Why do you insist on being friends with me?"
"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" you retort flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in your eyes. "Am I bothering you or something?"
“They’re all after me," he frantically explains, words spilling out of your mouth like water from a broken dam. "I’m literally the most wanted man right now!"
"But you seem to be handling it well," you counter.
"Can't you see?!" he shrieks, voice bordering on the hysterical, and you can see the prayer in his expression, that the fear in his eyes will send you packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"
“How can you be so sure?” you ask, disbelief coating your words, unable to determine whether or not he’s weaving tales to get you off his back.
“Because,” he hisses, a tight whisper, “I’ve lost too many people. Too many people I love.”
“Love?” You scoff. “You wouldn’t be this ecstatic to get me away from you if you really loved me?”
Spiderman looks at you, confusion etched on his face. “You… think I don’t love you?”
“Obviously not.”
“How can I prove it?” he asks, stepping closer, face softening, closing the agonizing distance between you with a few steps. “I can’t promise your safety. I love you too much to let you die.”
“Of course you do,” you say, waving off his words.
“How do I prove it?” he repeats, more pressing, urgent, like he needs a response before he does anything. His hands are right there, so close to your waist, and you find yourself itching to throw yourself into his arms.
“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “And I’ll know.”
You see him grin. You think he’ll take the whole mask off, but that was proving too much to hope for, but your heart still flutters when you see the bottom half of his face, faintly recognizable, but the hazy feeling in your mind that sparks from his lips only serves to cloud your thoughts even more.
His mouth presses harder against yours, hand curling around your hip, slotting in perfectly like it’s meant to be there, for what feels like another second before he pulls away roughly.
All too briefly, he tears his lips away to yank down his mask, chest heaving. "Shit, I shouldn't have..."
But the words die when you reach up to caress his cheek, seeing the flush that spreads underneath the mask. "It's okay. I wanted this too."
Leon's eyes - no, Spiderman's eyes - drop shut like he's in physical pain. "You don't know what you're asking. I can't… we can't..."
You try to reassure him but he backs away each time, out of reach, like he’s further away than you can see, deserts and oceans, miles and miles between you, even though just a moment ago he was closer than you’d ever imagined.
And you yearn to know who he is.
You suspect you’ve known all along.
How silly is it?
"When you're ready to stop running," you call softly, "you know where to find me."
And you’ll know where to find him.
<><><><>
The first piece of evidence to support your claim comes the afternoon following that night, with your squinted eyes trailing Leon everywhere, drawing a chuckle from that beautiful mouth, the mouth that, you suspect, had been pressed furiously against yours last night.
Not only that, something seems off with his shoulder. It’s held stiff at his side, and everytime you decide to be lazy and ask him to fetch something from the kitchen, he winces, grumbles something under his breath, rolls his shoulder and stalks away.
After a few days of waiting for your ‘beloved dormmate’ to open up to you, you take matters into your own hands. He hasn’t even fumbled to grab his keys from his pocket before you spring up from the couch, swing the door open and steer him over to where you were just sitting.
You peel away his shirt before he can protest, leaving him bare chested and stammering, skin burning into crimson.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs as you press the area.
“I may not know how to read,” you reply, prodding his shoulder blade, “but I know how to treat injuries just fine.”
“Why not become a doctor?”
You shrug. “Too much work.”
He smiles, and the curve of his lip, so similar to the smart mouth and remarks you looked forward to every night is the second piece you need.
<><><><>
The third, and final, you hope, piece comes when you sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face as you enter your dorm room. Safe to say that without Leon’s tutoring due to his more and more frequent absences, occasionally showing up only to be slumped at his table, snoring softly.
Without him listening, you knew you were doomed. So you’re about to scream your ass off, chastising him, telling him to get to class quicker, that whatever he does in his free time can wait.
But Leon stands by the window in a way that gives you pause. His back is turned, shoulders hunched as if lost in thought. What really catches your eye, though, is the bit of red fabric dangling from his fingers.
"Everything okay?" you ask slowly, shutting the door behind you. Leon whips around at the sound, hastily stuffing the fabric - no, his mask - into his pocket. But not before you notice the familiar webbed pattern.
"Fine!" he replies, a little too cheerfully to be real. "Just, uh, thinking. Hey, did you see that video of the guy backflipping off a building? Crazy stunts people pull these days."
You raise a brow. "Sure, but it looks like you've got something else on your mind. Or should I say under your clothes?" Leon pales. Without a word, you stride over and pluck the mask from his pocket, giving it a wave.
"Want to explain this?" Your tone is light, but inside your heart hammers. Finally, after weeks of prancing around the bush, he’ll give it to you straight, setting things right.
Leon stares at the mask like a deer in headlights, at a total loss for words. You've never seen him so unsettled.
"Look, I can explain," he says anxiously. "Just, hear me out before you freak, alright?"
You arch an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "I'm listening."
Leon launches into a tale - the spider bite, the powers, how he's used them these past months to protect the city from the shadows. By the end, you’re hanging onto each word - you didn’t know your friend was quite the storyteller.
"So you're really him, huh?" you say, still processing that your suspicions had indeed been correct. "My secretive roommate is the one and only Spiderman."
Leon runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's a lot to take in.”
“Not really,” you say with a shrug.
He stares at you blankly. “What?”
“You think I couldn’t tell from that night in the alley?” you muse. “I’m not as dense as you think, Spidey.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, relief washing over your face at the fact he isn’t mad about that. "Spidey? How cute.”
You match his grin. "Now you're talking." You hand the mask back to him, crossing your arms with a stern look. “Now, I don't need your protection, Leon," you insist, softening as he flinches at your use of his real name. "We're in this together, like it or not. No more secrets, deal?"
Leon sighs, gripping the mask tighter. Slowly, he nods, relaxing his expression. "No more secrets. And you can call me Spidey, if you want."
You pretend to mull it over. "Hmm… well, now I’m not so sure it has the same ring to it as Spider-man." But saying it makes Leon's entire face light up like a kid on Christmas. You can't help but return his infectious grin.
“Alright then,” you say, unable to stop cheesing. “Now get back out there! There’s a city calling your name!”
Leon quirks a brow, and you tilt your head to question the gesture.
“Can I count on the next person calling my name being you?” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you.
“You can count on your nose being broken if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds,” you joke and Leon seems to visibly lose the blood in his cheeks.
You find it adorable that he takes you seriously.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, clambering through the window, as if he’s suddenly in a rush.
“Yeah?” you reply, humming to yourself as you stroll over to him, pondering what your life will be like from now on, having a superhero as your best friend- no, you realize, looking into his iridescent eyes. Boyfriend.
“Remember to read chapter 37,” he says dotingly. Then he leans down to capture your lips and words in a quick kiss. Then he’s grinning and gone.
Vanished into the night, a shadow slung across the bright city lights.
Your hero.
Your Hero
Friendly neighborhood Spiderman, huh? You wouldn’t have expected your new dorky nerd best friend to be passing in the shadows of the charming hero behind the mask, hanging upside down and staring at you with odd interest. Why does he seem oddly familiar?
a/n: @candlekiss THIS HAS BEEN FORMULATING FOR QUITE A WHILE... ITS JUST BEEN MARINATING... TRUST ME THE BEST FOOD GETS MARINATED FOR LIKE THREE YEARS 😭😭😭
UR ART INSPIRES ME SM !! NEVER GIVE UP ON UR DREAMS BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SCENARIO WITHOUT YOUR ART I WOULDNT HAVE "to keep an angel" OR THIS FIC!! ILYSM MARI <3
tw: fluff from college leon and spiderman leon because they've both been swirling in my mind fr !!
wc: 3.3k
To be fair, you didn’t pay much attention to Leon at the beginning of the semester. You kept to your separate corners of the world; his being the potted plant near the doorway, where he stood with a bag slung over his shoulder every day, eyes narrowing at the watch on his left wrist, and…
Maybe you have paid attention to him.
It was a dance you had forgotten you’d learned, talking with him. He’s not the same guy you remember from high school, the one who always stuttered through answers and pushed his glasses up when the class mocked him.
The only person being mocked seems to be you now, three weeks into the semester, and the dip of your already fluctuating grades is enough to spur you to find a tutor. Your professor doesn’t seem to be much help, offers you a weak smile and a shrug and tells you to find resources elsewhere.
And you find it in the once, now self-assured straighten of his back as you snake around the crowd to tap his shoulder, grinning broadly.
“Heard you’re pretty good at this stuff,” you offer vaguely. Leon cocks a brow and you don’t expect the amused smile on his face to cause you to feel flustered.
“Guess I am,” he replies, and it seems that not only has his personality and appearance changed, but his voice is at least an octave deeper. It resonates through your entire body in a way that's difficult to describe. “Why? Need help?”
An awkward silence stretches between you as the implications of his altered tone sink in. Clearing your throat, you shuffle your feet and continue, "So, uh, when are you free?"
Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. "Is lunch okay for you?"
You consider it for a moment. “Wow, are you asking me out?”
He winks and you just about buckle to the ground. “Didn’t you come up to me first?”
<><><><>
The chair makes an absurdly loud sound when Leon scoots closer, hands clenched around the base of his seat, a bashful smile on his face as he waves his apologies to all the wandering, hesitant eyes that meet you.
It’s been about a month, and there seems to be no progress with your grades. You would consider dropping him altogether if it weren’t for the strange fact that you enjoy his company, cherish that he takes time from his evidently busy schedule to tutor you.
“Go on,” he prompts when you snap back to attention, startling from his fingers waving in front of you, brushing your nose. “What else did you notice?”
“There was definitely a lot of conflict in the last few scenes,” you mutter, trying to recall last night’s frantic reading that he had assigned three weeks ago.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t really say death is conflicting, would you?” he replies dryly, dropping his head to glance up at you from under his glasses, and therefore, his long, wispy eyelashes. They reflect the dim lights of the library, seeming to sparkle and illuminate his eyes.
“... yes?”
“No one dies,” he says, stirring from his position once again to stretch his arms against the table, lying his cheek onto the muscle of his bicep, staring up at you with a puffier face. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
“... no?”
“I can’t be here forever,” he whispers, quietly, only for your ears. “You know how many things I have to be doing. Put the effort in. For me, please?”
And something about his tone is so sincere, so genuine that it makes you want to try harder, push yourself, do the homework on time and actually do something about your grades.
<><><><>
You’ve grown to consider him a friend. Your grades have lifted, as has the burden from your shoulders, head high when you stroll out of the lecture hall, and spot Leon fumbling with the vending machine nearby.
It’s a habit to startle him whenever you see him outside of classes, yet you don’t understand the strange looks you get. In any case, he is infinitely a better person than you had expected, better than everyone you had tried to get with initially.
He flinches at your touch, fingers creeping between his arm and torso, wiggling to spark a surprisingly tired laugh.
“What kept you up all night?” you tease. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing of the sort,” he responds gruffly, eyes softening in exhaustion. “That would be better than what’s going on right now.”
Leon is a reserved man. He trusts you to some extent, where, on the other hand, you’re ready to give your life for him. You get attached quickly, what can you say?
<><><><>
You’ve grown used to barging into your shared rooms, not announcing your arrival, often catching Leon off guard, staring down at something on his phone before he shoves it away, that same embarrassed expression slipping off his face when you ask what’s wrong.
You arrive back at your dorm after a long day of classes, exhausted and looking forward to relaxing. But what’s past that door is everything that you would think not to expect.
"Oh- hey, you're back!" Leon says with a grin. But that's not all that catches your attention - your roommate has a bizarre outfit on; a brown, crinkled leather jacket, cargo pants, something that looks horrifyingly bland on him. And is that a splash of blue you see peeking out from underneath everything?
"Uh, Leon..." you reply, taken aback. "Didn't realize you were into cosplay. Something you need to tell me?"
"It’s, uhm, complicated," Leon replies vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s just say I have some important work to take care of."
"Right, because you're secretly the city’s hero," you deadpan, still not sure whether to believe this outrageous claim. “Well, come back soon, alright? I need help decoding chapters 18 and 24.”
“Of course,” he says with a wink. “I’ll just be a minute.”
But a minute goes by, which you expect, but then that minute morphs into a hour, and then two, then four, and eventually you’re worriedly pacing your dorm floor, awaiting a phone call, text message, anything to just know-
The phone vibrates a moment later as you rush to fish it out of your baggy pockets, jamming your finger against the notification.
Of course its not him. An unknown number, something fairly recognizable but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The hometown seems to be somewhere far away, starting digits something you don’t have the time to search up when the next text pops up.
Come outside? :)
who is this?
I just have your notes. Hurry up.
oh, thanks! gimme a sec
You remember requesting notes to study from Leon, but he gave your number to his friend, without your consent, might you add, so this must be him. He deemed this friend was far more outgoing, far more entertaining, a better person to hang out with.
You don’t expect Spiderman to be this friend of his.
<><><><>
“I’m starting to think you like me,” he jests, months later, on one of his patrols of the city. He always swings by your window, conveniently always timing his visits when Leon’s out with duties at the police station. You want to deny the accusation, but can't bring yourself to lie to the webslinger perched outside your window.
Not when those masked eyes peer at you with such care and familiarity. Like they see straight into your conflicted soul.
Not when you don’t want them to hang out. Of course not. The problem is your heart is pulling you in two different ways, down two paths that never intersect, and navigating these tangled feelings seems impossible without hurting one of them. They're so alike, yet fate keeps your two dimensions apart. You don't know how much longer your heart can take the strain.
But you bottle it all up, every little bit of you that screams to be adored, cherished in the way they both look at you, one through a mask and the other through glasses, both doing little to nothing to hide their emotions, the expressive raises of their eyebrows.
They’re definitely like each other, a little too much, you suspect.
A sigh escapes your lips. "It's not that simple. You both..." You shake your head, not wanting to put either in an awkward position. Some walls are better left unbreached. "Just focus on helping people, okay? That's what's really important."
He crouches silently beside you for a while, sensing your troubled thoughts without needing to be told. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle.
"You seem really down. What do you say I take you around the city for a bit? Might do you some good to get some air." He nods toward the skyline glowing in the dusk. "No better view than from up high, if you're up for it."
You eye him hesitantly, unsure if facing your feelings while swinging between skyscrapers is the best idea. But it has been so long since his invitation stirred your spirit rather than your heart. And you could really use a distraction.
Gripping his offered hand, you nod. "Sure. Why not? I definitely might not die from this."
Spiderman chuckles, pulling you firmly against his side. "You better hang on tight then."
A spray of webbing shoots forth and you're jolted into the air, wind whipping around you both. Your uncertain thoughts fade against the euphoria of flight.
For now, it's just you and the freefall through flooded lights.
And the handsome, mysterious, masked hero you’re wrapped around.
<><><><>
“I can’t see you anymore,” your hero mutters one night as you push the window open, eagerly awaiting his tranquil presence, the idea that he takes the burden, the pressure of school off your shoulders, sharing the weight of the sky with you.
“What?” You stare up at him and he stretches, seemingly uncomfortable.
“Can we talk?” He gestures down at the alley between your dorm building and the conveniently close laundromat, however loud the broken washing machines get.
“Yeah.” Your lips form a purse, behind them, your thoughts are clumsy and tie themselves in a bow around your tongue, presented to Spiderman as broken sentences as you approach his state.
He’s hanging upside down, face tilted curiously, in a crouching position, held by only the thinning strand of web, and you wonder how that small thing is able to carry such a physique.
“I’m putting you in danger,” he protests a few minutes later, standing in front of you, back turned away as you lean against the brick wall, crossing your arms with a stubborn huff.
“Have I died?” You shake our head like a little kid. “No!”
"What's your endgame, huh?" he asks in desperation, wildly turning to confront you. "Why do you insist on being friends with me?"
"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" you retort flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in your eyes. "Am I bothering you or something?"
“They’re all after me," he frantically explains, words spilling out of your mouth like water from a broken dam. "I’m literally the most wanted man right now!"
"But you seem to be handling it well," you counter.
"Can't you see?!" he shrieks, voice bordering on the hysterical, and you can see the prayer in his expression, that the fear in his eyes will send you packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"
“How can you be so sure?” you ask, disbelief coating your words, unable to determine whether or not he’s weaving tales to get you off his back.
“Because,” he hisses, a tight whisper, “I’ve lost too many people. Too many people I love.”
“Love?” You scoff. “You wouldn’t be this ecstatic to get me away from you if you really loved me?”
Spiderman looks at you, confusion etched on his face. “You… think I don’t love you?”
“Obviously not.”
“How can I prove it?” he asks, stepping closer, face softening, closing the agonizing distance between you with a few steps. “I can’t promise your safety. I love you too much to let you die.”
“Of course you do,” you say, waving off his words.
“How do I prove it?” he repeats, more pressing, urgent, like he needs a response before he does anything. His hands are right there, so close to your waist, and you find yourself itching to throw yourself into his arms.
“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “And I’ll know.”
You see him grin. You think he’ll take the whole mask off, but that was proving too much to hope for, but your heart still flutters when you see the bottom half of his face, faintly recognizable, but the hazy feeling in your mind that sparks from his lips only serves to cloud your thoughts even more.
His mouth presses harder against yours, hand curling around your hip, slotting in perfectly like it’s meant to be there, for what feels like another second before he pulls away roughly.
All too briefly, he tears his lips away to yank down his mask, chest heaving. "Shit, I shouldn't have..."
But the words die when you reach up to caress his cheek, seeing the flush that spreads underneath the mask. "It's okay. I wanted this too."
Leon's eyes - no, Spiderman's eyes - drop shut like he's in physical pain. "You don't know what you're asking. I can't… we can't..."
You try to reassure him but he backs away each time, out of reach, like he’s further away than you can see, deserts and oceans, miles and miles between you, even though just a moment ago he was closer than you’d ever imagined.
And you yearn to know who he is.
You suspect you’ve known all along.
How silly is it?
"When you're ready to stop running," you call softly, "you know where to find me."
And you’ll know where to find him.
<><><><>
The first piece of evidence to support your claim comes the afternoon following that night, with your squinted eyes trailing Leon everywhere, drawing a chuckle from that beautiful mouth, the mouth that, you suspect, had been pressed furiously against yours last night.
Not only that, something seems off with his shoulder. It’s held stiff at his side, and everytime you decide to be lazy and ask him to fetch something from the kitchen, he winces, grumbles something under his breath, rolls his shoulder and stalks away.
After a few days of waiting for your ‘beloved dormmate’ to open up to you, you take matters into your own hands. He hasn’t even fumbled to grab his keys from his pocket before you spring up from the couch, swing the door open and steer him over to where you were just sitting.
You peel away his shirt before he can protest, leaving him bare chested and stammering, skin burning into crimson.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs as you press the area.
“I may not know how to read,” you reply, prodding his shoulder blade, “but I know how to treat injuries just fine.”
“Why not become a doctor?”
You shrug. “Too much work.”
He smiles, and the curve of his lip, so similar to the smart mouth and remarks you looked forward to every night is the second piece you need.
<><><><>
The third, and final, you hope, piece comes when you sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face as you enter your dorm room. Safe to say that without Leon’s tutoring due to his more and more frequent absences, occasionally showing up only to be slumped at his table, snoring softly.
Without him listening, you knew you were doomed. So you’re about to scream your ass off, chastising him, telling him to get to class quicker, that whatever he does in his free time can wait.
But Leon stands by the window in a way that gives you pause. His back is turned, shoulders hunched as if lost in thought. What really catches your eye, though, is the bit of red fabric dangling from his fingers.
"Everything okay?" you ask slowly, shutting the door behind you. Leon whips around at the sound, hastily stuffing the fabric - no, his mask - into his pocket. But not before you notice the familiar webbed pattern.
"Fine!" he replies, a little too cheerfully to be real. "Just, uh, thinking. Hey, did you see that video of the guy backflipping off a building? Crazy stunts people pull these days."
You raise a brow. "Sure, but it looks like you've got something else on your mind. Or should I say under your clothes?" Leon pales. Without a word, you stride over and pluck the mask from his pocket, giving it a wave.
"Want to explain this?" Your tone is light, but inside your heart hammers. Finally, after weeks of prancing around the bush, he’ll give it to you straight, setting things right.
Leon stares at the mask like a deer in headlights, at a total loss for words. You've never seen him so unsettled.
"Look, I can explain," he says anxiously. "Just, hear me out before you freak, alright?"
You arch an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "I'm listening."
Leon launches into a tale - the spider bite, the powers, how he's used them these past months to protect the city from the shadows. By the end, you’re hanging onto each word - you didn’t know your friend was quite the storyteller.
"So you're really him, huh?" you say, still processing that your suspicions had indeed been correct. "My secretive roommate is the one and only Spiderman."
Leon runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's a lot to take in.”
“Not really,” you say with a shrug.
He stares at you blankly. “What?”
“You think I couldn’t tell from that night in the alley?” you muse. “I’m not as dense as you think, Spidey.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, relief washing over your face at the fact he isn’t mad about that. "Spidey? How cute.”
You match his grin. "Now you're talking." You hand the mask back to him, crossing your arms with a stern look. “Now, I don't need your protection, Leon," you insist, softening as he flinches at your use of his real name. "We're in this together, like it or not. No more secrets, deal?"
Leon sighs, gripping the mask tighter. Slowly, he nods, relaxing his expression. "No more secrets. And you can call me Spidey, if you want."
You pretend to mull it over. "Hmm… well, now I’m not so sure it has the same ring to it as Spider-man." But saying it makes Leon's entire face light up like a kid on Christmas. You can't help but return his infectious grin.
“Alright then,” you say, unable to stop cheesing. “Now get back out there! There’s a city calling your name!”
Leon quirks a brow, and you tilt your head to question the gesture.
“Can I count on the next person calling my name being you?” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you.
“You can count on your nose being broken if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds,” you joke and Leon seems to visibly lose the blood in his cheeks.
You find it adorable that he takes you seriously.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, clambering through the window, as if he’s suddenly in a rush.
“Yeah?” you reply, humming to yourself as you stroll over to him, pondering what your life will be like from now on, having a superhero as your best friend- no, you realize, looking into his iridescent eyes. Boyfriend.
“Remember to read chapter 37,” he says dotingly. Then he leans down to capture your lips and words in a quick kiss. Then he’s grinning and gone.
Vanished into the night, a shadow slung across the bright city lights.
Your hero.
Seven Years Close
Do you accept Leon's proposal to marry? You can't tell if he's trying to get into your bed or if he has genuine feelings.
a/n: so this was supposed to be knight leon and then somewhere along the road i was lost in lana and taylor and so now you get this asjkfwfioasajwqe do you fw me???
tw: sweetie pie fluff <3
wc: 2.9k
You cast a distasteful glance at the platter of raspberry tarts being passed around the room, servants anxiously staring up at you, wide eyes silently pleading you to take one. Taking pity, you curl your fingers around one of them and slowly nibble, leaning back against the wall.
Your twin sister, Rebecca, the heir to your family legacy, is nowhere to be seen. It’s become a rare occurrence to even see her around the estate, since she’s almost always frolicking off with one of her new suitors, twirling her hair and giggling as they make such fools of themselves, performing advanced melodies on their lutes and harps.
What good is art if there is no soul behind it? In twenty one years, you have not yet met a single man with a personality outside of the court, outside of succeeding to their family’s expectations, siring heirs before retiring to their homes on the coast, living out the rest of their miserable lives listening to the redundant waves wash onto the shore.
“What’s a lovely miss like you doing here, all alone?” You don’t recognize the voice and have to look up to match the tone to the face, and the face you see is not one you wish to see.
The prince of the kingdom, the man every woman wishes for and sees in their dreams. Leon Kensington. Believe it or not, it hurts you every time you see him, because anytime he meets your eyes, all you can remember is…
“Take it. Don’t be shy, it’s my gift to you!”
“Good evening, Your Highness,” you mumble, the once sweet fruit tasting infinitely bitter on your tongue. You resist the urge to scrape it on the back of your hand and instead offer a polite nod, shifting your weight so you’re facing away from him. “How nice to see you here.”
“There are times when I look at you and wonder what my life would be like if we had never met,” he says wistfully, completely ignoring your greeting.
“And?”
Leon smiles. “And my breath hitches, like my body’s reminding me that not meeting you would be like living a life with no air.”
“That will not work on me, dear prince,” you drone, steeling your mind against the sweet line. As much as you wish to believe it is true, you know he’s just trying to get into your bed. “I’m not as incapable as your lovers.”
“Indeed,” he agrees, stepping even closer to accommodate for the space you very deliberately just put between you two. “It is a nice gathering, yes?” You note the subtle change of subject and resist smirking.
“Nothing I wouldn’t expect from the House of Redfield,” you jest. “They are known for their majestic sceneries.”
“I didn’t know the Duchess was accustomed to the wilderness,” he replies with fake shock, arching his hand on his chest. “I always took you for a lady afraid to get your slippers wet.”
And just like that, in one mercurial swing, you’re back to irritation.
“Duchess is a title reserved for my sister,” you hiss from behind clenched teeth. “If you put effort into every woman you woo with your irresistible charm, you might’ve known that.”
You’re mad, but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. It’s not like you recognize the man in front of you. He’s older, more mature, and it shows in the defined slants of his face. But you can’t forget what you’ll always remember.
You don’t wait for a response. Instead you stroll away, seething in anger, searching the crowd for your sister. When you finally spot her usually tame, brown locks, somehow already tousled, you link your arm through hers and pull her away from the Baron Wesker, who looks far too old for her.
She lets out a yelp of protest, fixes her face and wiggles her fingers in goodbye to the man, before turning to you and huffing.
“How dare you!” she whines, smoothing out her dress. “Where are you taking me?”
“We’re going home,” you grumble. “I will not stand a second longer in this wretched place.”
“Excuse you! Duchess Claire is one of your closest friends!”
“And, unfortunately for us, she’s fallen ill, and her brother is tending to her. So unless you get in the carriage, I will be forced to resort to shoving my slippers up your-”
“I get it!” she groans. “You ruin all my fun.”
Aren’t I the only one.
<><><>
When Jillian hobbles into your room, you already know that something’s been arranged. The woman raises her eyebrows and lets out an amused chuckle when you groan.
“Are you far too busy to be bothered by His Royal Majesty himself?” she muses, handing you an envelope tightly clutched in her frayed hands. Streaks of gray already line her dusty hair. She’s old enough to be your mother, so, lacking a parental figure, you and Nysa consider her to be.
“Your uncle has requested you attend the-”
“Absolutely not.”
Jillian frowns. “Child.”
You’ve already skimmed the letter, and after getting past the first line, your mind has already been made up. Of all the things your uncle could force you to do under the illusion of ‘it’s what’s best for the family’, this was one you simply could not comply with.
“The arrangement for alliance between House Kensington and House Chambers? Seriously? That isn’t even my true name!” you protest, pointing directly to where the loopy handwriting, signed by the prince himself, ends.
“This is not an offer, girl,” Jillian lectures in return, her long, simple ivory dress sweeping the dust from the wooden planks. “You are expected to attend. Tonight.”
“What if I choose not to?” you reply defiantly, glaring up at her. She looks down at you for a moment, fingers tightening around the roll of newspapers in her hand before frowning and immediately proceeding to whack your back with the paper.
You scramble from your chair and she chases you around the room, pummeling you until you finally agree, panting heavily. For someone who looks old enough to be Queen, she sure is quick on her feet.
Later that evening, her nimble fingers thread your hair into complex twists, weaving in strands of worn-out gold, like a tapestry not quite finished.
“I wore these when I met my lover,” she whispers as she works, her faded eyes finding yours in the mirror. “He said I looked radiant, outshining the sun itself.” She presses a soft, tentative kiss to the top of your head. “Do not lose this one, child. I only wish to see you happy.”
You can’t tell if she’s talking about the braids or if she’s talking about Leon. Giving your hand to him in marriage seems like the worst possible idea you’ve ever had, and although you are sure you will deny everything Leon thinks of you, some part of your mind wants to make this woman happy, wants to gain her approval, wants to see her smile again, because you did this for her, no? You’ve done everything you’ve ever done for her.
The self-defense training, the balls, galas, everything you dreaded growing through your teenage years, it was all so much more tolerable with Jillian’s comfort, however weary.
That’s exactly why you put on your brightest, most stunning smile as you approach His Royal Highness, his wife, and of course, his two eldest sons.
Steven, heir to the throne, sulks in his chair, lazily slouched with his feet draped on his armrest. He is the image of one of the seven deadly sins; sloth.
You were raised in a family where sins were forbidden and to even think of them would require serious action. Rebecca chose to ignore your uncle’s rules after your parents’ passing while you strove to stick to them, knowing that if it were not for your uncle, there would never be a future for either of you.
“Your Majesty,” you finish, curtsying in front of Leon. You feel his gaze on your neck, dropping everywhere on your body, and you feel Rebecca tense besides you, because she doesn’t know why he’s not paying attention to her.
You do. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you walked in.
While your uncle converses with Their Majesties for wedding plans, you all are excused to mingle in the common room. You realize that this is the perfect chance to leave Leon alone, therefore providing you with solitary comfort, but then Jillian flashes through your mind, and you realize you have to make this work, however uneasy you feel.
His eyebrow arches as you approach to stand next to him, while your sister shoots off to bat her eyelashes at Steven.
“You’re much more boring than you usually are,” Leon drones, thumbing the sleeves of his linen jacket. “I was expecting something more extravagant.”
“If you wanted extravagant,” you retort, “you should’ve picked one of your bedchamber women to marry.”
“You think I want to marry you?” Leon scoffs, as if the idea’s never crossed his mind. You hope it hasn’t. “Heavens no. This is for the sake of the throne.”
“Your father thinks marrying into our bloodline is best for the kingdom?” You restrain from making a sarcastic sound of your own. “Pardon, but he’s thoroughly mistaken.”
“How so?” Leon twists to face you, eyes sparkling with a newfound curious light.
“Truly? A bastard orphan and a woman who’s already shared her bed with multiple other men,” you drawl. “Is that the ideal legacy you’d like to uphold?”
“We would be in shambles without you,” he admits, looking down at you, thin, golden eyelashes framing his pensive eyes. “And even if you don’t wish to marry me, I assure you that I will do my best to be whatever you need.”
“I… suppose I can reciprocate that,” you stumble over your words, finally coming to some kind of unspoken agreement. At your flushed state, Leon smirks.
“What if I asked for your firstborn child?”
You can’t hold back a grin. “What, are you suggesting you participate in witchcraft?”
He chuckles, a gentle, unrestrained sound that seems to resonate through you. “No, of course not. I was simply curious.”
“Hm,” you hum, debating the reality of the question. “You are the prince, yes? I have sworn my undying loyalty to you, so if you asked for my child, however heart wrenching, it is my duty to hand whatever you wish over.”
“Heart wrenching?” Leon pauses, then shrugs, laughing softly. “Have you forgotten already, my dear? Your firstborn child is mine either way.”
“Oh.” You flush an even deeper red, realizing the true meaning of his words. “Yes… I suppose that is correct.”
“Why are you always like this around me?” he queries after a beat of silence. “You seem… tense?”
“I’m not tense,” you assure, far too quickly to convince him.
“Don’t lie,” he says, voice lower, quieter. It has a new level of intimacy you weren’t prepared for. “Tell me what you are thinking about.”
“Right now?”
He nods. “Right this moment.”
You inhale sharply. “I’m… thinking about our ceremonial day back when we were in school.”
Leon tilts his head to the side. “Why on Earth would you be thinking of that?”
“I have this image of you in my mind, as a small boy, with mud in your suit and branches in your hair, and you came up to me.”
“I… handed you a leaf,” he continues slowly, as if just remembering the memory. “Yes, I recall that day. You were wearing that lovely pink dress.”
“Do you…”
“Recall that I asked for your hand in marriage?”
There’s a beat of silence before you hesitantly answer, “Yes?”
“Can I ask why this is bothering you?”
“You are so… different, now,” you rush to finish, wanting to get all your thoughts out quickly. “You’re not the same Leon.”
“Are you the same?” he asks in return. “It has been seven years. A lot has changed, between the two of us.”
“We were so close,” you whisper, slightly dazed.
“We are close now, too,” he says, but you get the sense he’s not talking about emotionally. He’s moved to sit near you, breath fanning your nose, eyes searching yours with a familiar warmth, yet deeper. A spark stirs in your core, fading embers rekindling.
"The boy who gave me leaves cared deeply," you say softly. "As I hope the man does."
Leon smiles. "As does the woman. You still love me?"
You scoff. “Still? You’re still as cocky as ever.”
Leon grins boyishly. “Some things will never change, hm?” His hand finds yours, fingers entwining. But where innocent affection left off, desire awakens, smoldering beneath your skin.
Eyeing lips but a breath apart, Leon whispers, "May I?"
Your pulse quickens as you nod. As his lips meet yours, the fluttering flame within blossoms into a radiant glow, spreading warmth through your veins with sentiments left unspoken for too long. You finally realize that avoiding your past was the worst mistake you’ve ever made.
When he pulls away from you, curling his fingers along the side of your cheek, the longing in his face is evident, like he’s finally seeing something he forced himself to block out for so long.
“Why did I ever let you go?” he asks, voice feather soft, but you understand he’s asking himself, pitching his regret. His expression is gentle as his gaze shifts to your hair. “Was your hair always golden?”
“I do think you have been paying attention to me over the years,” you muse, lying your head against the sofa. “I’m flattered.”
“Who didn’t?” Leon arches a golden eyebrow. “Surely you’ve noticed the amount of suitors trailing you around everywhere you go? Just last month I rode past your estate and there was a line of men waiting to call on you.”
“And they were all such boring lads,” you drawl, groaning just from the memory. Leon leans on his fist, propping himself up against the wood to face you.
“No one is as charming as me,” he says sweetly. “It pleases me to hear that you’ve finally realized this.”
“Yes, Leon,” you manage through snickers. “You are indeed very charming.”
“Yes, very well, go on,” he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What else do you find lovely about me?”
“You’re truly asking for this?” Leon nods eagerly, so you consider him for a moment.
"Let's see..." you ponder thoughtfully. "Your ego knows no bounds.”
Leon pretends to wince. "You wound me, my dear!" He declares with feigned drama.
"Your hair remains equal parts charming and disastrous, as in days of your youth." He runs a hand through his tousled locks, shifting them so the sun hits them perfectly, an effervescent glow around them.
"Your smile is as radiant as the summer sun. Your eyes are as warm as a crackling hearth," you continue, gazing deep into azure depths.
"My, such flattery! When did you become such a poet?" he quips, returning your easy smile.
You cock your head sideways. "There is one quality more that makes you singular amongst men..."
Raising his eyebrows, Leon leans forward as if onto a delicious secret. "And what quality is that, pray tell?"
"Your boundless arrogance knows no competition!" you exclaim as Leon clutches his chest in exaggerated fashion.
“Wounded yet again!” he whines, but there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes. “And here I was, blindly assuming your adoration for me was sincere.”
“Of course it is,” you say dotingly. “But someone must keep that ego in check.”
“Who better for the job than my future wife?”
You tilt your head, regarding him with amusement. "Is that a proposal, my prince?”
"Would you accept, if it were?" Leon returns casually, yet beneath you spot profound hope. Perhaps there is a way to not only get what you want, but also to win Jillian’s praise.
“Yes. Yes, I would.”
“Lovely,” your uncle states from across the room. You peek over the top of the cushion to see your uncle and Their Majesties standing behind you. You don’t know how long they’ve stood there, and you’re not sure you want to. “Then the wedding will be set.”
“Do you know where Steven is?” I hear the Queen murmur.
“I’m quite sure he disappeared off to his chamber.”
The Queen sighs. “With the girl?”
“With the girl,” the King confirms. “I suppose this would also mean that we will need to plan their wedding, as well?”
“Splendid!” your uncle coos. “The royal family will be covering all expenses, correct?”
You assume they nod, because your uncle starts to gush about all the decorations and banquets and how your wedding will be the most stunning wedding of the century.
You cast a wary look at Leon. “Are you still sure you want to marry me?” Leon rests his hand on top of yours, looking at you with utmost sincerity.
“Are you being serious? Because, darling, I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life in love with you.”
Can I pls request one where Leon is obsessed with his wife’s small baby bump? Like especially when she wears dresses he just can’t stop staring 🧎♀️🌸
baby blues
—re4!leon kennedy!husband x pregnant wife!reader
— a oneshot (request)
warnings: MDNI, 18+, a lot of fluff, leon being the best baby daddy out there, reader kind of hates being pregnant at times, reader deals with some body issues and how their body is changing, leon is so sweet and supportive, gives cocky hot dad vibes, mentions of pregnancy pain, oral (f receiving), breast play, lots of kissing and praise, mentions of past sex, mentions of doctors offices, cursing, leon and reader being the cutest little husband and wife out there.
“you had tried. tried stretching, tried taking a pill and had tried sleeping. but everything hurt. everything. your feet, your head, your back and especially your breasts. it felt like something was tugging and poking at all the soft parts of your body. it was torture, almost. if there wasn’t a handsome man next to you, rubbing your back as you laid on your side. leon dulled the ache a little, he looked at you still like the day he met you four years ago, even when you were pregnant, fat and you felt like death had taken over certain parts of your body. leon still looked at you like you were the most precious thing. and it made you wanna cry, scream and kiss him all at the same time.”
— or reader gets pregnant and tries to come to terms with it and leon has no problem helping her out
masterlist taglist
an: thank you for the request anon <33 hope you enjoy it. this was such a cute little thing to write. might make a headcanon list soon just for this specific request :,)
you and leon had talked about kids, about babies.
about the joy it would bring both of you to have something made by the two of you. to make you both enjoy the ties of your marriage and love.
you, however didn’t expect to get pregnant so soon after your marriage. but leon…leon was hard to resist and your body craved him and it was your choice. a choice that you made over and over and over again.
until two lines changed his life and yours entirely, it was hard ignore how the both of you panicked. the excitement, nerves and the rushing of your heart beating accelerated as you stared at the test…four month ago.
you both had been so careful, so very careful, but in one night of heated touches and sloppy kisses, you decided to fuck the condom and just deal. thinking the birth control you took would be enough, but it…it was not. definitely not.
you dealt with being pregnant like a champ, or tried to. you were sore now, you were fatter and you felt like a truck had hit you when you simply moved to grab something.
you loved the idea of carrying a child in retrospect, when leon had pounded you into the mattress many times before, thinking and muttering all the obscene words and images about breeding you. you literally keened at the idea, but now, now that you were here and doing it, you wanted to rip this kid out of you.
you hurt every moment of everyday, you were tired and hungry and whenever you saw that stupid ASPCA commercial on the tv with the dogs, you started bawling like a child. it was obnoxious and to think it would only get more strenuous as the moments that passed was literal torture.
and the doctors appointments, the vitamins you had to take and the way your body changed. it was a lot to handle, you had leon. you had him to help but sometimes it didn’t feel like it was enough. you couldn’t dress like you usually did anymore and could only wear the sundresses and other dresses you had hanging in your closet.
it felt like you were playing dress up, but it was the only thing you were comfortable in these days. the only thing that fit over the bump. the only thing that made you feel pretty and not like an inflated blimp.
and the one thing besides the pain, the bloating and the never ending amount of morning sickness you’ve had to deal with…the one thing you held onto was by the end of it you would get to be a mom. leon would get to be a dad, that was the only thing that kept you tethered to reality these days.
but leon enjoyed the sight of you in your dresses, that was one thing that also kept you tethered. the way he still ate you alive with his eyes, scouring you still as if you haven’t changed at all. you would always find his blue eyes piercing into your pregnant frame whenever you’d slip on a dress for the day or when you were bare and just got out of the shower.
it made you more aroused then usual, the only thing worse was the leon never acted on it. he never once stopped you and brought you to your guys bedroom. he never offered to eat you out anymore. you didn’t know why he was staring but wouldn’t act. was he worried that he’d hurt you? or the baby? you didn’t know, you had no clue.
but it was festering, each look he gave you in your pretty little dresses with your bump of pregnancy was making your skin hotter everyday. you didn’t know how much longer of this pregnancy you could take if he didn’t act on his desires. most importantly, your own.
two weeks, later and your sick of everything.
your sick of walking, your back pain, the peeing every five minutes. just everything makes you annoyed or feel like your going to crawl out of your own skin. you don’t get comfort in bed, you toss and turn. you’re then frustrated because you can’t sleep on your stomach, you wanna rip this baby out of you and it’s only the four month mark.
leon is a saint though. he’s bringing you food, rubbing your feet, holding your hair back when you throw up from the morning sickness. you feel bad for being such a bitch, for being so mean and hormonal. you try not to snap or throw a hissy fit.
but it’s hard.
you’re also sick of the doctor asking you twenty million questions when you go to your next appointment. already fed up from lack of sleep and your bowel movements. the baby is healthy, so everyone is happy. just not you.
another thing, leon keeps eyeing you and basically fucking you with his eyes. another thing that’s just adding up into your short limit of patience. you wanna scream at him to just fuck you, do something. you need a release. and if you could do it on your own, you would. but you can’t even see over your stomach or much less reach it.
so your just stuck feeling pent up and frustrated with everything. until one day, one day you just snap. you just lose your shit. you don’t remember what really caused it to happen, maybe it was the fact that you saw leon wearing only a towel after his shower, practically making you drool.
but you lost it. you just lost it, for absolutely no reason at all.
“can you stop looking at me like that?” you say softly as you look over at him, your being patient, so patient at this point and it makes you wanna scream or cry. he’s digging for something in your shared dresser drawer at this point, minding his own business.
leon looks behind him, over his shoulder to where you sit on the bed. he raises a small brow, “i’m not even looking at you, baby. i’m getting clothes.” he says with a small hint of amusement in his voice.
“you know what i mean, leon.” you say in a annoyed tone as you shift on the bed, the many pillows for your back pain and a heating pad pressed up against it. you opted for a t-shirt of his and underwear, the only two things besides dresses that you could really stand these days.
he grabs his boxers and takes off his towel, you try to ignore the arousal that’s literally pooling uncomfortably in your underwear as you see it. your trying to stay annoyed, stay focused, but his dick is just right there. so far out of your reach but so close and you just want to pounce on him.
“i can’t stare at my beautiful wife now?” he says with a small notch in his brow, pulling his boxers up over his dick, making you disappointed and snap back into what was currently happening. you huff and rub your bump, shifting against the heating pad and pillows.
“no, you can.” you say with a small glare in his direction, “but if your not gonna do something about it, i’d rather you tell me then just…” you trail off when he crawls on the bed next to you, sitting beside you. “angel, you have something you wanna share with me?” he says in that low and intimate tone that gets your insides all bubbly.
you gnaw on your bottom lip in contemplation, “no. i don’t.” he chuckles lowly and moves even closer to you on the bed, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing. “i hardly believe that, baby. no offense.” he says softly as he presses a kiss to your ear.
you were going to jump him if he didn’t stop this, he was teasing you. he had to be, it was ridiculous that he couldn’t even see how miserable this was making you. “can you just…?” you start and fail pathetically as you try to squirm into his touch more on your thigh.
“can i just what?” he says in a soft timbre into your ear, almost daring and pushing you to say it. to ask. you were beyond irritated and wound up now. everything hurt and your body felt hot. “can you please touch me?” you say softly, you sound whiney and desperate and it’s nothing like you. but a part of you really didn’t care anymore.
you hormonal, achy and moody beyond relief. you just wanted him to touch you, to fuck you even. it was getting annoying how much your body had craved him since you became pregnant.
he didn’t move his hand from your thigh, his breath still ghosting over your ear and the side of your face. “i am touching you, love.” he says with an arrogant smirk against your skin.
arrogant bastard. you thought to yourself, you were brazen in the moment. “it hurts, leon. just…please?” you practically whined in that moment, you didn’t like the teasing. not when your patience was already short enough as it was.
he pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head, “what hurts, baby?” he says softly as he rubs his hand up her thigh and over her bump, soothing tender circles over your body and the baby beneath.
you don’t even care anymore, the soothing feeling of his hand over your t-shirt was enough. your cheeks were red though and you guided his hand up to your swollen breasts beneath your (his) t-shirt that you wore.
“oh, honey.” he sighs softly in a contented whisper against your head, pressing a small kiss to your hairline. he doesn’t move his hand on one of your swollen breasts, just rests his hand there as if he’s just supporting it with his large hand over the fabric.
“leon…please, it hurts.” you hear yourself breathe out in a whimper, one of pain or of desire, you didn’t know. you didn’t care to know right now. “hold on, hold on.” he mumbled softly as he shifted next to you, getting closer to your side, he adjusted himself on the pillows next to you.
“can’t deny my pretty little wife. can i?” he says into your ear with a small nip as his hand squeezed and kneaded one of your swollen breasts. you couldn’t help the sound that came out of you, a mix of relief and desire that you didn’t know you could make.
he moves his lips to press against your neck, nipping and licking as he kneads your breasts, trying to make the pain subside as you moan. “feels s’good…” you mumble in between small noises.
“i know, i know. sorry, for teasing you all this time.” he mumbles into your neck, “gotta stop teasing you…” he mumbles again in between kisses as he presses one more kiss under your ear.
his hands working up your swollen and aching breasts, you could feel your panties practically dripping with release. you grab at his bicep, curling around the muscle there for balance. “please…” you whimper softly.
he moves his lips up to your ear, “what do you want? use your words, baby.” he nips at your earlobe and keeps kneading your breasts, alleviating some of the ache there.
you grip down on his bicep harder, your hormones from the pregnancy were going crazy at his touch. “anything…something, please.” you whine softly near his ear as you almost draw blood. you just needed a release and you weren’t going to get far with him kneading your breasts.
“how about i eat out that pretty pussy? hmm?” he practically purrs into your ear as one of his hands leads down from your breasts to beneath the covers. your soaked underwear beneath your rotund belly, he finds it. an amusing sound leaving his mouth at your ear, tracing the pads of his fingers over your wet slit of your underwear.
his words and his touches having a disastrous affect on your pregnant body, you felt like a match that he was striking with flame and then putting out. it was so much in the best way possible.
you just nod rapidly, emitting a small whine as you clutch his bare bicep harder. “okay, pretty girl.” he presses another kiss to your ear, smirking to himself. he traces your wet slit again, marveling at how soaked you were for him.
“practically drenching your underwear, this all for me?” he muses as he pulls back on the bed next to you, pushing the covers back from your body. your hand falling down to the sheets beneath you, “yes…” you manage to get out as he clicks his tongue. a growl almost rose from his mouth as he gets farther back on the bed, moving in between your knees.
he sees the wet patch that’s soaking your underwear, he knew you were hormonal from the pregnancy. but god, how much arousal could form just from you looking at him? it needed to be studied, but he couldn’t help but feel his ego and confidence inflate.
your bodies reaction to him would always be something he’d never get tired of. especially now when you were drenching your pretty panties.
“fuck, baby. missed this sweet pussy.” he rasps as he looks up at you with hooded blue eyes, his pupils dilated. you knew that look well enough to know that he was going to give you what you both wanted.
release.
you mewl, “please, leon. don’t wanna beg…” you try to reach down to yank his hands or his head closer but your pregnant belly stops you. he puts a hand on the inside of your thigh, “no begging required. i’m going to eat out my pretty pregnant wife. i’m hungry anyways.” he smirks devilishly as he massage the meat of your thigh.
he doesn’t waste anytime, your head hits the mountains of pillows behind you. your chest rising and falling fast beneath his t-shirt that your wearing. his hands come up to the waist band of your underwear and slowly pull them down over your hips and bent legs.
your bare pussy is on display now and you feel the cold air hit your most private parts, ones that he’s seen before but now…now that you were pregnant and carrying his child…things were different. you looked more delicious now, looked more like he could eat you out for days. eat you and fuck you until the baby came.
god help him.
he doesn’t waste anytime, none whatsoever. he’s going to give you what you want. he rubs his fingers through your arousal, spreading it everywhere and teasing you just a bit longer.
you whine, “leon, please…just stop. i want it.” he looks up at you from where he’s laying on the mattress in between your bent legs. “i know baby, just admiring how beautiful you are…everywhere.” he smirks to himself and presses a kiss to the hood of your clit.
you moan a little, he clicks his tongue. “so sensitive.” he muses, “good to know some things never change after pregnancy.” he whispers as he presses another kiss to your clit.
“fuck…leon…” you whine softly, clenching the sheets beneath you. your hormone fueled body making you out to be this whiny monster.
he just chuckles against the skin of your dripping pussy, “just sit back and relax, sweet girl. i’ve got you.” he says as he runs his hands up to the sides of your hips, holding you steady as he dips his head down.
he starts licking a long stripe up from your drenched opening to your clit, your head tilting back as you moan loudly. you never failed to amaze him, get him hard and all worked up. you both had that affect on each other, good to know it was still intact.
how had leon not done this yet? not touched you this way yet when you’d been pregnant? you were like putty in his hands right now.
he felt like an idiot.
a large one. 
he stuck his tongue into your soaked opening and licked, fucking you with his tongue as you clenched the sheets harder beneath you. “fuck, want…uhh, so fucking good!” you moan loudly, practically screaming.
he just keeps fucking you with his tongue, almost rutting his boxer clad erection into the mattress. he reached one hand down to rub his thumb over your clit, still fucking you with his tongue.
your back arches a little, as much as it can without you hurting yourself. a white knuckled grip on the mattress is all you have as he ravishes you, keeps his tongue and fingers working you into oblivion as you writhe and moan underneath him.
“leon! uhh…fuck…” you babble nonsense as you feel the coil start to build in your lower abdomen, you had never come this fast before. but the fact that you were pent up, more hormonal then usual and he was working you open with his skilled mouth and fingers…
you were fucked, figuratively and literally.
he took his tongue out of your opening moving the finger that was on your clit, down to your soaked opening. his fingers working you open now, sliding one in which causes you to release a long moan, his name rolling off of your tongue.
his mouth attaching itself to your clit and licking, sucking and swirling his tongue. he was smirking as he did it. knowing that he was gonna feel you come all over his fingers and face.
he could do this forever, keep you pregnant forever just so he could hear those pretty little sounds you made when you’d fall apart beneath him.
he kept moving his pointer finger in and out, swirling his tongue over your swollen clit as you moaned obscenely, thanking god and him and his mouth.
“just…yes! fuck! gonna cum!” you babble again, losing all rational thoughts as he continued to lick and rub and finger you. you felt helpless under his touch, but in the best way. the way that made you and the unborn baby inside of you feel safe and cherished, loved even.
he just kept it up, only breaking his licking at your clit to talk you through it, “good girl, pretty little wife gonna cum all over my fingers? huh?” he says with a raspy voice, his lips stained in a gloss of your arousal.
you moan softly in response and nod, your eyes fluttering open and shut, your pussy clenching around his fingers. pulling them out just to push another long inside of you and curl your fingers upwards until he found your magic spot.
you whine at that, smacking a hand down on the sheets underneath you. “there it is…” he muses in a low tone, “good girl, maybe if your really nice i’ll pump another baby into you tomorrow.” he says with a smirk.
you moan, “fuck…yes!” you yell out, the idea of him fucking you and promising to get you even more pregnant…it was making that band inside of you get closer to snapping.
“you’d like that wouldn’t you? filling you up with my big cock and pumping you full of my cum?” he teases as he keeps fucking you with his two fingers, the noise of your arousal would normally be a turn off but you were so close to release that you didn’t care anymore.
you moaned and nodded dumbly in response, his free hand sliding from your hip to rub over the swell of your belly. “pump another baby into you, fuck, you’d love that.” he says lowly.
“i-i would…fuck, want more babies…” you whine softly as you writhe more, some tears leaking out of your eyes. he almost growls at that, pumping his fingers harder inside of you and rubbing that sweet spot that makes you see stars.
he knew you were close, knew you were going to reach that point that made you all blissed out and needy. “cmon baby, come all over my fingers. know you can.” he encouraged with a kiss to your clit, his free hand still rubbing over your belly.
all it took was him talking more, working you up with his sweet words and his fingers hitting the mark over and over again inside of you. you moaned loudly, clenching around his fingers. your release coating all over his digits.
he didn’t say anything, just worked you through it until overstimulation set in, removing his fingers from you. he brought them both up and licked the release from his fingers.
you watched him with undivided attention, your eyes lazily opening and closing in the haze of your orgasm. he smiled softly and crawled from in between your legs to rest over you, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“don’t you ever think for one second that i don’t want to fuck you, taste you or do that. i love you and i love making you fall apart. you being pregnant…has nothing to do with me holding off.” he says in a reassurance, pressing another small kiss to your lips.
being mindful as he leaned over you not to disturb the bump of your belly. your eyes locked on his as he looked down at you, “i’ve just been stressed and on edge with prepping for the baby. it’s had absolutely nothing to do with you being pregnant.” he says softly, reaching a hand up and running it through the hair at the base of your skull.
“your so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. i know you don’t see it these days. but you are even hotter now that your carrying my baby, our baby.” he explains with a gentle smile, making some water prick into your eyes.
“so don’t think for one second that i find you unattractive or that i’m teasing you on purpose.” he says with another small peck to your lips, “you understand me?”
you nod slowly as you look up at him, blinking the small amount of water away from your eyes. you should’ve never doubted him, should’ve never thought that about yourself.
and he hated that, hated that he made you doubt yourself and your body for one second. you were so beautiful, you were his and he loved you. he had loved you long before you both spoke your vows in front of god and each other.
he loved you so much, as much as you loved him. so he rolled off from hovering on top to you, cuddling his body next to yours, letting himself wrap his strong arms around your pregnant body.
he wanted to hold you close to his heart, he always did inside. he always kept you there because that’s where you deserved to be. you were his wife and the mother of his (soon to be) child.
he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, pulling the covers back up over you and him, cuddling you close. his hand rubbing over your belly with the fabric of his own t-shirt covering it. “your so very beautiful, baby. i love you so much. even when you don’t see it.” he says against the side of your head, pressing another kiss there.
you melted into his arms, your eyes fluttering close in exhaustion and in content. you didn’t feel so insecure and anxious anymore. you knew that he had been off, but he was just as stressed as you. he had to be, you were going to be a mom and he was going to be a dad.
it was a lot of pressure.
but as long as you both had each other, you knew you guys could do it. the rings on your hands symbolizing the best and worst parts of you and him, the parts that you accepted and promised to love forever.
and with him, it would never be scary. not if you had a husband like leon, and he would love you just as much as the baby inside of you.
it was a part of both of you, that could never be unloved. not if either of you had anything to say about it.
an: hope you guys enjoy. i couldn’t deny a double upload this week, my bad lol. i love you guys so much and i hope you enjoyed. happy friday!! i’m gonna be opening my requests again soon. i wrote this when i was ovulating so no harsh judgement. please reblog and like, kisses. xx.
taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl (if you wanna be on my taglist interact with the link at the beginning)

hi, i love ur writing ! could u do where leon compliments reader and reader is like "u dont have to say that, u know i am not beautiful" basically like reader being insecure, then leon comforts her and showering her with compliments. :) 💗
-Leon Kennedy x reader
Thank you for the request my lovely! Hope you enjoy! 💕💕
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You’re wrist deep in cookie dough, kneading it under your palms with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows as you let out little huffs, Sherry had a school bake sale and you were more than happy to help offering to bake her some cookies.
Leon always admired that about you, the way you were so kind and caring, you’ve helped him a lot through these past couple of months and he thinks you’re just perfect, inside and out.
He walks over to you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Hey beautiful” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you roll the chocolate chip-covered cookie dough into balls.
He doesn’t miss the way you wince slightly at the nickname, how you seem to go in on yourself, you’ve been like this for weeks now, avoiding his touches, even at night you seem to sleep further away from him, he hates it.
“Hey, do you think two batches are enough? Or should I do another?” You ask trying to divert the conversation in a different direction, Leon notices the way your eyes seem to be fixed on the cookie dough, “I don’t remember how many children are in Sherry’s class”
He can see the concern that laces through your eyes, and he knows the worry goes far beyond Sherry’s school bake sale, there’s something much deeper in the way, something that makes you brush his love off.
“I think two batches are plenty, Sherry’s gonna be over the moon,” he says, noticing that you haven’t preheated the oven as he turns it to one-eighty degrees, “You wanna go grab some dinner after you’ve finished pretty girl?” He asks frowning at the way you wince.
There’s that look that flashes over your face again as if his words are venomous, and it breaks his heart, and he dreads to think about the horrible words you’re telling yourself.
He stands there for a moment, watching as you put the second batch of cookies in the oven thinking about how to approach this because, in all honesty, Leon doesn’t know how long he handled this distance you’ve wedged between the pair of you.
He waits until you set the timer, washing your hands and drying them off, until talking to you letting out a sigh as he prepares himself.
“Can we talk?” He asks, leaning against the countertops, his eyebrows pinched together when you don’t look at him.
“Sure, what is it?” You turn over to where he’s standing, arms crossed over his chest.
His hands go to rest against your hips, and he hates the way you seem to flinch from his touch as if his hands were poison against you, his chest tightens at the way you nibble on your bottom lip as you push away from him.
“What’s going on? Talk to me” he says, his tone soft and caring and it makes you want to burst into tears because the last thing Leon deserves is the way you’ve been treating him lately, constantly pushing him away every time he reaches out for you.
And you hate how much power your insecurities hold over you, hate how it’s now affecting your relationship, it kills you.
“Hey, don’t cry angel,” he says, noting the tears that fall down the curve of your cheeks, and you squeeze your eyes shut, you felt so undeserving of such a sweet nickname.
You shake your head wiping your tears, “Don’t do that Leon” you cry, wrapping your arms around yourself, and he looks back at you with confusion.
“Do what?— y/n?” He asks, trying to understand why you were suddenly so upset, “Hey, beautiful tell me what’s going on?” His hands go to reach out for you but you’re quick to push them away.
“You don’t have to keep saying it, I’m not- I’m not beautiful or- or pretty, so just stop— please” and he swears he can feel his heart shatter, the remnants poking in his throat, and it’s hard to listen to your sobs.
He doesn’t know how to approach this, he’s terrified of making it worse but the way you hold yourself as pitiful sobs escape your lips breaks him in ways he never thought possible.
“Can— can I hold you?” He asks, relief washing over him as you nod whispering a small ‘okay’ and his arms wrap around you holding you close to him as he lets you cry into his shirt, his hand soothing your back.
“I’m sorry Leon, I’m just scared- I’m scared that you’ll look at me the way I do” you mumble and he shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your temple. It pains him to know that you look at yourself with anything other than kindness.
“Sweetheart, hey look at me,” he says, hands cupping either side of your tear-stained face.
“I love you- so much it’s scary, and I need you to know that okay? You mean the world to me” he promises, with such a loving look in his eyes and you can't find the heart to doubt his words.
"You're the most perfect person in the world, so beautiful inside and out, and god, you're so pretty, so so pretty, you- you leave me breathless" he smiles at the teary chuckle that leaves your lips.
You smile back at him, and you know there isn’t much he can say to erase your insecurities, it’s a deep-rooted problem you have to face alone, but the way he showers you with his love helps more than he’ll ever know.
“What can I do to make it better? Anything and I'll do it” he asks, you let out a breathy giggle and you almost convince yourself he’s not real, he can’t be.
You reach up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, and you slowly come to realise that, Leon really does love you and it was foolish to think otherwise, “There’s nothing really, just be patient, and don’t leave me” you murmur resting your head back against his shoulder, he hates that he can’t help you more.
“I’ll never leave you, ever” he promises, a gentle hand smoothing over your hair as he holds you against him.
“I’m sorry for being so awful to you, m’sorry for pushing you away,” you tell him with a slight wobble to your voice.
“You don’t need to apologise, you just gotta tell me what’s up, yeah? That’s what I’m here for” he tells you and you let out another wet, teary chuckle nodding your head and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
A minute passes by, as you both stand there holding each other before the timer goes off, and Leon pulls away as he takes out the cookies, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that’s he tempted to take one.
“Don’t even think about Leon, these are for Sherry’s bake sale” you remind him, as he still admires the delicious chocolate chip cookies.
“I’ll make another batch just for us” you wink, bumping your hip against his as he moves out of your way, and he smiles at the way you don't move away from his touch when his hand falls to your waist, you giggle at how he stands behind you watching intently as you put the cookies into little individual bags, fancy ribbon and all, and he can't help but think just how lucky he is to have you in his life.
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I just saw this vid of a soon to be wed couple trying to decide on their wedding cake flavor with this ‘wedding cake tasting’ box that had a large variety with small bites of cake for each of them & I thought this would be such a cute concept with leon!! 💗
-Leon Kennedy x reader
{You and Leon taste test some cake for your wedding}
Ack! This is just too cute!! Hope you enjoy my lovely! 💕
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Leon had the biggest sweet tooth ever, even if he’d never admit it to anyone, you knew. He was the one to always pile the shopping trolly with sweets and cakes, even if you didn’t need them, in fact, you were certain that he prioritised sweets over anything else.
It’s for that exact reason that you don’t let him food shop by himself, you made that mistake once and he returned with snacks only.
“Oh!- try this one” you giggle, reading the ‘carrot cake’ label, and Leon already knows exactly what you’re trying to do. He can see your eyes gleam with mischief.
“Absolutely not,” he says, waving your hand away with his own. “Do you want our guests to be miserable?” He asks, grimacing slightly as you take a bite of the cake.
You shrug, your hand covering your mouth as you let out a laugh watching the way his face contorts with disgust.
“It’s not that bad- it doesn’t taste like carrots” You try and reason with him but to no avail, he’s adamant that carrot cake is just not for him.
In all honesty, Leon doesn’t care about the flavour of cake, as long as it puts a smile on your face and you’re happy then nothing else matters, as long as he gets to call you ‘Mr/s Kennedy’ for the rest of his life then he doesn’t care about the smaller things.
You turn to him, “Can I have a kiss?” You ask, smiling sweetly and he scoffs at you. His hand cupping your jaw gently.
“I’m not tasting the carrot cake,” he says, watching the way you fight the smile that pushes against your lips as you try to frown. Failing horribly.
He kisses the tip of your nose before going to try some of the lemon cake, nodding his head in immediate approval.
“It makes no sense I hope you know that. You’ve never tried it, you might really like it. Then you’ll be like ‘Aw damn why haven’t I tried this before it’s so good’” you tell him, watching as he side-eyes you and the carrot cake.
You can help but giggle at his behaviour. It’s not like he was a picky eater, he was willing to try something new now and then, so it baffles you that he’s being so stubborn over some cake, that is arguably not that bad.
“It’s simple really baby, fruit doesn’t belong on pizza and vegetables don’t belong in cake,” he tells you, and roll your eyes.
“Well you have tomatoes on pizza and that's a fruit” you inform him. And you can tell by the look in his eyes you’ve stumped him, perhaps that’s why he decides to smudge frosting all over your cheek. Sore loser.
You squeal pushing him away as he tries to attack you with more chocolate frosting, your hands wrapping around his wrists as you try to warn him off, whisper shouting at him to ‘behave himself’
He gives in eventually, and you sigh in relief as he sits back down wiping his hands with the napkins he’s hogging, “Oh sweetheart, you messy pup” he smiles at you as you roll your eyes, “You’ve got a little something” he laughs, motioning to your cheek.
You go and grab a napkin but he’s quick to pull them away from your reach. “You’ve had enough sugar for one day,” you tell him, wanting to so desperately wipe that shit-eating grin off his stupidly handsome face.
“Well, can I get just a little more?” He asks, hands against your hips as he pulls you closer to him. Your hands against his shoulders as he leans closer to you. His wet tongue licking a stripe against your cheek, collecting the chocolate frosting from your skin.
You immediately try to push him away, groaning out in disgust as you grimace at the feeling. “Delicious” he whispers finally letting you go as you grab a napkin or two wiping his spit off your cheek.
“God Leon you’re so gross” you whisper, grabbing a piece of carrot cake from behind you.
He rambles on about how you ‘love it’ and before he can even realise what you're doing you shove the slice of cake in his mouth, laughing at the shock that paints his face as he eats it, and Leon slowly comes to the conclusion that he might just like carrot cake.
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Hello! ~~ so since i saw this cute video i cant get this idea out of my head ( the video was basically a cat laying on a girl stomach and it was not getting up cause she senced her owner beinv pregnant and that video was jus adorable 🥺) but what if the group( Jill, Chris, Claire, Rebecca) is hanging out at someone place and ofc Leon and the reader is there as well and as the reader sit down the cat instantly gose to her does the same, plus the cat doesn't leaves her side? I just genuinely find this idea adorable soo m8ch 🥺🥺🥺
- Leon Kennedy x reader
{Claire’s cat doesn’t once leave your side, and Leon finds it adorable}
Ack! This is too cute!! Thank you for requesting as always lovely! Enjoy💕
CW// reader is pregnant
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“Do want anything to drink, sweetheart?” Leon asks, turning to you as Claire and Chris walk into the kitchen, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. He wouldn’t let you do anything with you being heavily pregnant, he even barred you from cooking. You learned rather quickly that it was useless to fight him on it, no instead, you took great advantage of it.
His hand soothed over the curve of your stomach with a bright smile, “Something sweet would be nice, if Claire has anything sweet” you say, and Leon nods pressing a kiss to your forehead, he lets his lips linger there for a moment.
“I’m sure she’s got something,” he tells you before getting up and joining the siblings in the kitchen.
You glance down at Claire's big tabby cat that was sat by your feet, she hadn’t moved an inch since you sat down, that was until now. You watch as she jumps up beside you curling up on your lap with her head resting against the bump of your tummy.
You smile scratching behind her ear as she purrs, rubbing her head against your tummy. “Aww! Leon look!” Claire beams as she carries a bowl of sweets into the living room.
You watch as Leon’s eyes light up. He chuckles. walking over to you with a glass of cold apple juice, “Here you go angel” he says handing you the glass as you thank him softly, he takes a seat next to you.
The ginger cat doesn’t move an inch, not even when Claire sits down, instead she only nuzzles herself further into your side.
Claire watches and she swears her heart might just melt at the sweet interaction. She can’t help but let out a loud chuckle as the tabby cat shoots Leon a mean-looking glare causing him to retreat his hand.
“She’s protecting you,” Chris says to you, sitting down as he shovels some gummies into his mouth.
“From what?” Leon asks, sending a glare back at the cat, you giggle as you reach for his hand, your thumb soothing over the bump of his knuckles.
“No it’s because she knows you’re pregnant that’s why, she’s a smart cat” Claire adds, taking your now empty glass from your hand before you even have time to lean over and set it down on the coffee table.
The tabby cat doesn’t once move, not an inch not even when your baby kicks and as time goes on she reluctantly lets Leon sit closer to you, his hand holding yours in hopes the kitty might just get the hint that Leon isn’t a threat.
The sun starts to set and you can’t even get near Claire’s door as the cat doesn’t leave your side, walking beside you as you collect your things, she lets out an almost worried ‘meow’ as Claire picks her up.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her” Leon smiles at the tabby, stroking behind her ear. "She's in good hands"
You smile as Leon’s hand rests on the small of your back. Claire walks over to you with her cat in her arms, “Don’t worry I’ll be fine” You smile down at the furry friend petting her gently, you sniffle trying to hold back the tears as you make your way to Leon’s car before saying your final goodbyes.
It’s only when Leon starts the car do the tears finally start to fall, “Whoa, hey- baby what’s going on? Are you okay?” Leon worries, his hand going to hold yours.
You nod your head wiping your tears, “No- yeah, I’m fine it’s just Claire’s cat, is she going to be worrying about me all night?” You ask sniffling and Leon tries so hard to bite back the laugh that wedges in the back of his throat.
“Oh baby- she’ll be fine I promise, Claire will take good care of her” he promises, taking your hand gently as he presses kisses to your knuckles, smiling against the back of your hand.
“Don’t laugh at me Leon, I’m emotional,” you tell him, and he glances over at you as he stops at a red light.
“M’not” he mumbles and you both break out in giggles, his hand resting against your thigh as he drives you both home.
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hiii! can request re2!leon(raccoon city events do not happen bcus😭) with an s/o who practically drools over him in his police uniform (i would acc do this is i was his partner😘)
Ahh! You’re so right babe! Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕
-Leon Kennedy x reader
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It’s really early, too early, some would argue. It doesn’t seem very fair that Leon has to get up at ungodly hours of the morning to spend all day with Kevin on patrol, and with it being a Friday you knew tonight was going to be rough, with partygoers and rebellious teens.
It’s even more unfair that you wake up to him getting ready, sitting on the end of the bed, shirtless, as he finishes putting his socks on. You study his back, the muscles that tense and move with his actions.
You shuffle closer to him, arms encircling his torso as you press your cheek against his warm skin. “Morning baby, did I wake you up?” He asks, tone hushed.
You shake your head. “Mm, don't mind, it’s a good view to wake up to” you smile, pressing kisses to his shoulder.
“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, breath hitching ever so slightly as your lips trail up to his neck, peppering kisses to the underside of his jaw, as you hum a small ‘Yeah’
Leon, much to your dismay, moves away from your touch. Standing up as he claims he 'has to get ready'.
You watch him as he slips his shirt on, eyes trailing down to his work pants, the gun holster that sits around his thigh. “Sweetheart? Could you get my vest?” He asks, with a teasing smile. He knows it’s your favourite part.
You nod, grabbing his R.P.D vest before walking over to him. You undo the velcro helping him put it on before doing it back up again, “It’s not too tight?” You smile hands smoothing over his chest.
“No, it’s alright” his hands rest against your hips as you inch closer to him. You lean to press kisses along his jaw as his hands smooth over to your lower back. “Baby I’ve got work” he whispers despite not making the effort to move away.
“Just call in sick,” you tell him, a hopeful gleam in your eyes. He kisses you, his nose bumping yours gently as he does.
“I did that last week.” He murmurs against your lips, forehead resting against yours, “I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight” he swears, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers grazing against your cheek.
“I’ll hold you to that” you giggle, helping him get his work stuff ready although Leon wouldn’t really call it helpful with your hands all over him, that teasing smile that adorns your lips, he definitely couldn't wait until he got back from work.
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hello!! i was reading smth on twitter abt how this person went on a date w someone and after they kissed, the other persons watch beeped rly loud due to an abnormal heartbeat and i thought it was rly cute and funny, i was wondering if i could request smth w leon? :0 i hope this made sense ;; no worries if it doesnt, its up to u!! hope u have a great day!! 💗
- Leon Kennedy x reader
This is so very cute!! Thank you for requesting my lovely! 💕
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Leon took it upon himself to walk you back home from the quaint restaurant the two of you had visited tonight, in celebration of ‘date night’ something that the pair of you agreed should happen at least once a week.
“I’ll be honest baby- I didn’t even know that place existed until tonight” You smile as you try to fish out your keys from your bag, frowning softly as you do so.
He presses a gentle hand to your lower back, “How? You live practically next door” he chuckles, admiring the way the light of the street lamps dusts against your face, painting you in a rather flattering light.
You shrug your shoulders with a small “I dunno” as you continue to try and dig out your keys, that seem to be hiding from you in the depths of your bag. Leon goes to help you but not before you prick yourself with something sharp, letting out a little yelp as you retreat your hand back out of the bag, dropping it as you cradle your hand with your other.
He watches as your purse drops to the concrete, low and behold your keys fall right out. “Hey, you alright sweetheart?” He asks, moving closer to you, taking your hand in his as he study’s the small cut that adorns the tip of your finger, “It’s not bleeding” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your fingertip.
The action is so gentle and full of care, even the way his hand grasps yours. It takes you back a little and you can’t help the stutter it creates in your heart.
“Thank you, Leon” you let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm down the flutter in your chest, “And for tonight- it means a lot” you giggle, feeling all bashful.
He inches closer to you, a delicate hand against your hip as he leans into you and before you know it his lips are against yours, a sweet, love-filled kiss that has your hands grasping at Leon’s shoulders as he effortlessly takes your breath away.
He pulls back resting his forehead against yours as you both let out breathy chuckles between each other, “My pleasure angel” and god are his words so sickeningly sweet, dripping with honey, and by the way, he chuckles you think he knows it.
You’re about to respond with some snarky comment about how 'cheesy' he can be, but before you can your watch lets out three, very loud, beeps. Embarrassment wraps around your body in haste.
“What was that?” He asks, looking down at your watch as you quickly hide it behind your back.
“Nothing!- it’s just- I need my keys” You stumble over your words as you grab your bag and front door keys from the cold ground.
Leon doesn’t let it slide, of course not, it’s not in his nature so instead he grabs your wrist pulling from behind your back, and your attempts to pull away are futile as he studies the small screen.
He watches the small love heart as it beats, along with a small red arrow that rises signifying that your heartbeat has increased rather rapidly and Leon can’t help the pride that bursts through his chest.
“N’aww did I do that baby?” He coos, dodging your hands as you try to flick his nose.
“Don’t be mean Leon” you huff, avoiding his eyes as his hands hold yours, “Or that'll be our last date.”
“Oh sweetheart- m’just messing, it’s cute honestly- it’s adorable. You’re adorable” he says, pulling you back into him as you hide yourself against his chest, another huff leaving your lips.
“Yeah, yeah” you mumble, rolling your eyes unbeknownst to Leon who peppers kisses against your face, his rough hands carefully holding either side of your jaw, and you internally curse yourself as your watch beeps again which only makes Leon chuckle, mumbling something about how he should stop before he ‘gives you a heart attack’.
And you make a mental note not to wear this watch on your next date, knowing he’ll never let you live this down.
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A thought just came to me, and it’s fluff (kinda angsty if you squint but overall just protective leon) when f!reader (his S/O) comes home from work and subtly complains about some guy (co-worker) being “strange” and flirting with her and stuff and eventually she just comes home one day and rants about how it’s making her really uncomfy (and then ofc my bbg Leon comforts her and now has a murder plan)
I love this idea because I saw in one of your drabbles the mention of Leon not even thinking about sharing reader, and now I’m wondering what he would think of when even reader doesn’t like the persons advances and is uncomfy
If this is too triggering or uncomfortable for you, pls ignore!! I love ur writing ❤️❤️
-Leon Kennedy x reader
Ahhh thank you for requesting, I love protective Leon sm!! I hope you enjoy my lovelies!
CW- harassment
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Office jobs are already god awful, the last thing you need is some creepy, sleaze-ball who can’t take a hint for the life of him and by just your luck that’s exactly who you have to work with. The new intern, Harry, had been nothing but inappropriate with his constant jokes about the women he’s slept with, or his flirtatious manner that was horribly accompanied by his wandering hands.
It was starting to make you feel way too uncomfortable so much in fact you left ten minutes early just to avoid him in the parking lot. You had, along with several other women, already spoken with your bosses who in turn told you they’d ‘Keep an eye on him’ which was not helpful, at all, in fact, his actions only worsened through the week.
So when you finally get home you let out a heavy sigh, feeling the stress melt away as Leon calls your name lovingly from the kitchen. “Hey angel, you’re back early” he says walking over to you with a soft smile.
Leon always looks so warm and inviting but right now when he’s wearing his old collage jumper with a pair of joggers, well it sparks something in you and you just can’t help it as you practically fling yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you tug him into a hug.
He smiles when you breathe in deeply because, god, did he smell like heaven, “Yeah, I missed you- so much” you mumble against his shoulder, a sigh falling from your lips as his hands soothe against the small of your back, pulling your blouse out from where’s its tucked into your pencil skirt, so he can slip his hands underneath the fabric, his warm hands splaying across your back.
Leon catches on fairly quickly that there’s something wrong, he can tell by your tone, and when he pulls away slightly to look at you he doesn’t miss the strained smile you flash him. “Missed you too baby” he presses a kiss to your hairline, “Tell me what happened?” there’s a certain softness to his tone that melts you, completely opening the floodgates.
“Well y’know that new intern?” You ask as you both walk into the kitchen, the setting sun dusting the room with an orangey light as it reflects against the dark wooden cupboards, it was a homely feeling.
The softness of the light against Leon’s face made him look so handsome, despite the frown that confronts his face as he runs a hand down his stubbled cheek.
He nods with a stiff “Yeah” as he bites the inside of his cheek. Of course, Leon knew him, the creep wouldn’t leave you alone, the thought of him making you even the slightest bit uncomfortable made Leon seethe with anger.
“Well telling my boss hasn’t done shit- I swear he’s only gotten worse” you sigh picking at your cuticles, an action Leon is quick to stop as he holds your hands in his.
“Gotten worse how sweetheart?” He asks, tilting his head as he tries to meet your gaze. There’s a dreadful pit that grows in his stomach as he waits for your response with a certain fear.
“He just makes everyone feel so uncomfortable, I mean it’s bad Leon- even some of the other guys have called him out, he just doesn’t listen,” you tell him, noticing how the grasp he has on your hands tightens slightly.
You take a deep breath although it comes out a lot more shaky than you would like, “I have to share the desk next to his, and he keeps flirting with me and trying to touch my shoulders- I swear I’m gonna staple his hands together” you giggle trying to make light of the situation because if you don’t laugh about it you might end up crying.
The sentence tips Leon off the edge and what he really wants to do is much more than staple his hands together, but he pushes that to the side when he catches onto the tears that glaze over your eyes.
“You’re not going in tomorrow- I’ll call your boss” he says leaving no room for argument, a sudden protectiveness caging around his heart. His arms encircle your shoulders as he holds you against him with a gentle sway.
However, you know you can’t avoid it altogether, “Leon I can’t not go to work,” you tell him, pulling back slightly to look at him, anger still flickering through his eyes.
“Then I’ll drop off and pick you up” he huffs pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll put on my mean boyfriend face” he whispers, frowning very over dramatically as he brushes his nose against yours.
He stops after he gets a giggle from you, satisfied at the joy that overtakes your face although it doesn’t last for long as he pulls back, watching the happiness dissipate from your face. It hurts him to see you like this, his chest tightens and it only fuels his anger towards this sleaze.
“Hey, I’m serious” his tone is so soft despite the growing anger, “I’ll call your boss, tell him you’re not going in until that creep gets fired” he presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You look up at him with a soft smile, “I love you” you whisper, leaning into his hand as he cups your jaw, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.
“I love you too sweetheart” he says, bringing you into a warm almost protective hug, kissing the top of your head as his hands soothe against your back in a comforting manner, “Let’s go get some food, yeah?” He says as you nod against his chest, feeling a whole lot safer.
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This is kind of a silly request but how about reader giving Leon a kiss while wearing a lip plumping gloss and him feeling the literal tingles and him being like what the heck this is new. I saw this cute comment that someone said that when their partner mentioned the tingling their response was that their kisses are electric.
- Leon Kennedy x Reader
This is too cute!! Hope you enjoy my lovelies 💕💕
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“Hey sweetheart” Leon smiles walking over to where you’re sitting, crossed-legged on the bed. You’ve been piecing together the Lego bricks from the new set he had gotten you for your anniversary, eyebrows furrowed as you carefully follow the steps.
There’s something about the small frown that ghosts over the space between your eyebrows that makes his heart melt, despite the fact you’re currently ignoring him.
He tries again, this time taking a seat down next to you, the bed dipping slightly as he does so. “Having fun?” He says, watching as you study the instruction book. He chuckles when you look over at him with excitement in your eyes, nodding as you snap the colourful blocks together.
“Mhm, it’s almost done,” you tell him with a beam of happiness in your eyes, looking over at him as he reaches out his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, he smiles as you lean into his touch.
You’re almost inclined to put away the Legos and curl up with him, and the way his thumb grazes against your cheek certainly doesn’t help. The warmth from his touch makes you realise just how tense you’ve gotten, an ache that stretches across your shoulders and down your spine.
Leon notices as you roll your shoulders slightly, a small sigh falling from your lips when he starts to massage you with his big hands. “D’you wanna take a break?” He asks, shuffling closer to you.
You contemplate his offer for a second, glancing over at your empty water bottle and it’s only then you become aware of how dry your throat is. You reach over to the reusable bottle with a “Mhm, I need a drink” and before you can even stand up Leon is already grabbing the bottle.
“I’ll go angel” he says leaning to press a gentle kiss to your lips, the taste of whatever is on your lips only makes him smile against you deepening the kiss. The feeling makes you forget all about the plumping lip gloss you put on just a minute ago.
He doesn’t make it out of the bedroom before turning around with confusion in his eyes. Leon licks his lips with an almost comical panic, “What the hell is that?” He asks wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
You can’t help but laugh at him, “What? It’s just lip gloss” You shrug biting back your smile. He shakes his head with urgency as he presses the tips of his fingers against his mouth as if he’s checking he’s still got lips.
“Baby, it’s like... pins and needles” he says taking the end of his shirt as he pulls it up to his mouth, wiping away the product. And if it wasn’t for the tingling sensation, that he’s currently freaking out over, he would have teased you about the way you’re so clearly eyeing his abs right now.
You giggle as he walks back over to you, sitting back down on the bed, “It’s not that bad. You’re so over dramatic” you tease, reaching over to brush his fringe away from his eyes.
“Over dramatic? Honey, I can’t feel them” he teases still prodding at his supple lips. You reach over to gently swat his hands away, “I guess our kisses are electric, huh?” he nudges your shoulder with his own, his eyes gleaming with joy as he chuckles at the slight eye roll you give him.
“Electric?” You repeat, trying to stifle the giggle that creeps into your throat.
He nods in earnest, leaning into you with a soft whisper against your ear, “So electric baby” and you can’t help but burst into laughter, a hand clamped over your mouth as he chuckles against your shoulder.
Leon pulls away for a moment, taking the opportunity to admire you as calm yourself down. His hand cups your jaw gently as he presses soft kisses to your lips, not minding the slight tingle that it causes.
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Hi! I love your work so much, and this is my first time doing a request! I was wondering if you could do a Leon x reader where reader is a huge gamer girl and loves to play, but doesn’t play when Leon is around, bc her past relationship kinda frowned apon playing video games while s/o was around? And Leon’s all like “wdym, no baby it’s fine”?
(I hope that wasn’t too much >_<) Thank you and have a lovely rest of your day and stay healthy and hydrated!
-Leon Kennedy x reader
Ack!! This is too cute, hope you enjoy my lovelies!💕💕
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Leon is busy working away at the stack of paperwork that Chris so kindly gave him, claiming that he was ‘better at that sort of stuff’. He sits at the kitchen table, rolling his shoulders as he continues the pattern of reading then typing, reading and typing.
You look over at him from where you’re sitting on the sofa, your controller in hand as you contemplate turning it all off. You watch the crease between his brows get stronger, as he huffs out in annoyance running his hand through his soft hair, strands falling to fame his face.
Maybe your game is too loud? Perhaps it's distracting him?
Your mind wanders until you’ve convinced yourself that you’re the sole reason for his stress, that so obviously stains his face. You pause the game thankful that the music seems to be much quieter in the menu.
“You stuck again angel?” He chuckles, seeming a lot more relaxed than he was a moment ago. He pushes the laptop away as he stands up from his chair with a stretch and an exhausted sigh.
You shake your head as you watch him pour himself, and you, a drink. “No… well not really” you say, putting the controller on the coffee table as he walks over to you with two glasses in hand, taking a seat next to you as he hands you one with a gentle smile.
Leon can tell something up by the way you start to pick at your nails, avoiding him and his gaze as you get swept up in your own mind. “What’s going on huh?” He asks as he rubs your shoulder with his hand, hoping to stop whatever train of thought that has carried you away.
“Nothing I just- I’m sorry if the game was distracting” you mumble. There's something in your tone that he catches onto as if you're seeking some kind of validation for you to simply play your game, and it hurts Leon to think anyone ever made you feel like that. You go and turn the console off, but you don’t get far as he reaches to gently grab your wrist keeping you from getting up.
“No it wasn’t” he smiles, dropping a kiss to your shoulder as you sit back down, “You’re fine baby, honestly I like it” he admits handing the controller back to you with a wink and a smirk and you can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.
He slings his arm around your shoulder pulling you into him as he urges you to continue playing, “What about your work?” You ask suddenly feeling awfully silly.
“I’ll do the rest tomorrow, wanna spend the night with my girl” he smiles, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you play your game, asking questions and pointing things out as you work your way through the story, and it makes your heart beam with love because he's genuinely interested, and it shows with the way his eyes seem to gleam with love.
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so silly :3 just a silly guy :3 so silly :3 silly little :3 they so silly :3 my dimpy eempy :3 the silliests :3 the little shrunkos :3 so little silly :3 silly little bily :3 my meow meow :3 my wet cat :3 they so silliest :3 meow :3 arent they so silly :3 i love my silly
i need more leon kennedy ai bots like i’m no longer content
i’m like violently against having kids but if leon kennedy got me pregnant suddenly im a stay at home mom who runs the pta
one of my favorite pastimes is going on character ai and making leon upset at me im lowkey psychotic
wait omg i should have thought of this ages about but i should make a sim that looks like leon kennedy and get him pregnant