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hold me till it's better. then, come again tomorrow | Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

Leon is an enigma in your life, silently arrives and leaves whenever he wants. And you wish you had the courage - to deny him or to ask him to stay.

wc: 4.1k

warnings: situationship Leon. explicit-ish smut. MINORS DNI!! alcoholic Leon. implied cheating(?) but is it really cheating if there's no relationship to cheat on??? angst. hurt/no comfort. okay maybe some comfort. Leon trying to be better. second(?) chance romance. open ending.

a/n: ending may feel rushed. maybe one day ishall develop enough patience. okay love you all, im gonna take a break now<3

The wind is harsh against your cheeks, robbing them of their warmth with each gust forcing you to make the choice of surrendering one hand to hold the lapels of your jacket tight while the other enjoys the cozy confines of your pocket.

There were sprinklings of snow coming down now, pirouettes and prances abundant as they flow down steadily. You miss your umbrella, disliking the layer of wetness that’s gathered on your clothes, hampering your efforts of staying warm as you thread through the busy city sidewalk. 

The cold bite of the weather is too overwhelming, abandoning your jacket and stuffing your other hand back into the pocket. Perhaps it’s time to buy a new jacket – maybe even a nice coat; there’s only so many times you can wear your current one. It’s not even yours, a stray piece lingering behind from someone you don’t recall the last date of meeting.  

It serves as a reminder of his memory, his scent long washed out from it. But still it is nice to possess a piece of him, that he wasn’t a mirage, an illusion conjured up by your mind so that there would be company in your solitude. Or maybe it’s your inability of letting things go, never knowing when the time for someone or something has passed.  

You bury your nose in your scarf, breathing out heavily to fan your face with warmth.  

You finally catch your breath at the crosswalk, ruffling snowflakes out of your hair, blinking underneath the harsh streetlight. The spirit of Christmas was still dawdling in some of the apartments, trees and lights propped up against the windows catching your eye well past New Year’s now.  

You tear your eyes away from the sight, bitterness gathering at the back of your throat as the red man turns green. You chose to take the long way today, putting your muscles to the test and hoping to rid them of the chill that had been festering in them for the past few weeks. 

Or was it months now? What does it matter, it feels all the same now.  

You brush past the crowd, muttering out apologies as your shoulder bumps into other people, the impact landing more harshly than usual. It’s fine, you don’t have much capacity in your brain to worry about them, not when you need to warm up your socialising skills. 

How horrid.  

You’ve never had to mentally prep yourself for meeting your friends or any gathering really. Perhaps this is the consequence of baring yourself shut in your apartment, letting calls go missed and texts unanswered, only unearthing yourself for bare necessities, hardly recognising the husk of the person who stares back at you every morning in the mirror.  

Maybe it’s the weather – seasonal depression. Or maybe it's the chip that’s missing from your chest, leaving behind one large gaping hole in the shape of a man. You take a breath in, coming to a halt in front of the usual bar that hasn’t been graced with your presence in a long time. 

You stand outside the large window, cursive writing on its surface, reading the name of the bar, and all you are capable of doing is stare. It looks snug inside, like a snapshot of a memory.

A burst of laughter greets you when one of the patrons exit the establishment, the orange hue of the overhead lighting bathing the wood in the same colour, a dreamlike quality to the aesthetics dragging you into the before.  

You swing the door open and everything comes to a stop for you. It always does, memories hitting you like a speeding train, a slideshow someone clicks through at an impossible speed. And that’s why you don’t come here that often. 

You still remember the day – it playing like a movie whenever you close your eyes; the smells, the sounds, the atmosphere and most importantly, him. 

It had been a Saturday. 

A very eventful gathering with your friends to celebrate your friend’s, Cathy's, birthday. You had walked in with your gift in hand, huge grin plastered on your face when you had practically launched yourself in her arms, gleefully wishing her a happy birthday.

It was the typical squealing mess, the noise enough to attract the attention of the other patrons, who after gracing you with judgemental looks, retreated back to their own worlds. 

All except for one.  

Just over her shoulder, there was a man on the far end. Your eyes had locked into a pair of blue ones already watching you; leaning against the pool stick in hand with sleeves rolled up, holding your gaze with a steady confidence. He had allowed you to take him in – drink him in with his fitted jeans and collared shirt popped open, revealing glistening skin underneath. 

The amusement on his face had bloomed when he took note of your wandering gaze, heat scorching your cheeks when he had bent over the table, lined up his shot and pocketed his target.  

Fuck.  

That was your first impression of Leon. And he had your full attention. 

Cathy squeezing your arm had pulled you out of your reverie, snapping back into reality as you greeted the rest of your friends. You tried to push him out of your mind, singing to yourself to stay focused, squeezing into the usual booth reserved for your friends. And it worked. To an extent.  

You tried to be subtle, grinning with your friends and then daring to take a peek from the corner of your eyes. Try as you might, you always got caught, his gaze flickering to yours at the same time. It was as though electricity jolted through you every single time it happened, nearly fracturing your neck with the speed you would look away. 

The two of you played at the game for a while, discreetly trying to steal looks, a smile adorned on both of your lips. It was when you had walked up to the bar by yourself that there had finally been an opening. 

You had flagged down the bartender, given your order and were now leaning against the cool wood, twiddling with your fingers when you felt him come to a halt beside you. Your body responded to him quick, heating up in his presence, making you stand deathly still as though you would spook him away with a sudden movement.  

Leon had placed his empty glass on the bar, ice melting into a puddle before placing his order. Whiskey on the rocks. The subtle graze of his shoulder against yours had made you look at him, lilted smile enough to thrill you; the unbuttoned shirt, the fitted jeans and the veins travelling up and down his exposed forearm painting a rich tapestry.  

“Leon.” He had said it firmly, holding out his hand.  

Dear god even his voice had been enough to turn you like putty in his hand. His grip was soft, shaking it once up and down when you had introduced himself. Your eyes had shifted back towards your friend group, your drink now in hand when you made to move away.  

“Can I get you to stay?” Leon stopped you, coming to stand closer.  

How ironic. But you wouldn’t know that just yet. 

Your eyes had flickered to the dart board. “Three rounds,” You had jutted your chin towards it, walking over without waiting for him to follow.  

It was after you had become acquainted with him did you realize how drunk he was on the night he had met you. It explained why he made you laugh so hard, showering you with compliments, fleeting touches here and there, joking about your horrendous form.  

You had scrunched your nose at him, rolling your eyes all, “A real gentleman would show me the proper technique.” 

His touch on you was blazing when he stepped behind you, heart slamming in your chest, kicking your feet apart. One hand pressed you into his chest by your waist, the other gripping your wrist as he helped you with the motions. Leon's breath had been hot on your neck, nose buried in your hair as he whispered instructions to you.  

You’re wound up so tight. Losen your grip, sweetheart. Arch your back- like that, excellent.  

Fuck darts. Let’s fuck him instead. 

The trip to your apartment was short, hell you barely even remember it, too occupied in the backseat of the cab, too drunk in the taste of him, hands roaming each other. Poor driver, your face still burns at the memory, hoping the radio was enough to drown out the lewd sounds you two were making. 

Leon didn’t even wait till you closed the door, lips attaching your neck and pressing you against the cold wood. He asked you in between breaths if you were sure, if you wanted him and every question of his was met with a kiss, strings of yes, yes, yes accompanying them.  

He christened the whole apartment with you, stripping you naked in the hallway of your home, eliciting a gasp when he grazed his fingers your inner thighs, cerulean eyes watching every twist of your features, delving deeper and deeper into your heat, satisfaction growling in his chest when you had fallen apart.  

But it wasn’t enough, Leon ever so insatiable.  

He would move you, biceps bulging and snapping you out of your daze when he wrangles you onto the plush cushion of your couch, throwing your ankles over his shoulders this time tracing you out with his tongue. And he had done it again, making you cry out his name, licking every ounce of slick you had to offer, caressing your hair and wiping your tears, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

And the two of you would move again, manoeuvred expertly onto your bed, face burying into the plush of your pillows as his fingers gripped the supple skin of your hips, his weight pressing onto you deliciously, his heavy pants matching yours, not even sparing a second for you to catch your breath before he had you moaning again. 

The bed had creaked so loud, protesting with every wave of his thrust, sending stars into your vision until you had enough to form your galaxy.  

But perhaps the nail in the coffin had been later in the night, when he had wiped you clean, grabbed your face gently and kissed you so ardently, wiping the soreness from your mind.

He had come to settle beside you, agreeing to stay. You had held him close, his head resting upon the cushion of your breasts as he listened to the beat of your heart, eyelashes fluttering close as your fingers caressed his back.  

In the morning, he had vanished.  

And then began the begrudging cycle. 

Leon would return, turning up on your doorstep like a stray cat that had wandered too far. In the beginning it was confusing, staring at him owlishly in your pyjamas, looking at the time and then back to him. But never once did you refuse him, asking in an incredulous tone Leon? What the hell is going on? before stepping away and letting him in. 

He would bleat out some excuse, their creativity dying out with the passage of time. 

I was in the neighbourhood. 

I lost the keys to my place. 

I can’t find my phone. Is it okay if I borrow yours?  

I forgot my address.  

And so on. After a while, you pressed a copy of your apartment key in his hand without a word. That should make things easier.  

Anything after that was a delicate waltz. Leon would linger in your hallway, hands stuffed in his pockets. One step forward, one step back, his hands coming to hold you by the waist, burning where they touch your skin, and just like clockwork, he would pull you against himself, hot breaths fanning the other’s face.  

His grip would be strong underneath your thighs, swollen lips brushing against the shell of your ear. Say no and I’ll stop. Just tell me to stop once and I'll leave you alone. But you never say no, cradling his face as your lips would descend on his, locking them in a possessive hold.  

The same fucking routine every time.  

He would ask, you would never say no and you would go tumbling down with him, clothes piling up into a heap. Leon would always carry with him the scent of whiskey on his lips, getting drunk as his tongue would twist with yours, sucking the soul out of you. 

Sometimes he would smell of perfume, its sickly-sweet notes never changing whenever he would carry it with him. 

Leon would never let you sleep, pulling org after org relentlessly like a magician pulling out strings of colourful cloth from his hat, testing your stamina. It was easier for him, as though almost overcome with a frenzy, having you in every way he would fathom. He would hold you steady against your walls, back arching into him with every thrust of his fingers, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips sucking the sensitive flesh.  

One more, sweet girl, just one more – that's it, just like that. I know you can take it.  

He was irresistible, heavily intoxicating as you would nod along to his praises, his sweaty face brewing in and out of your vision, seeing whole nebulas now made of pleasure. On some nights he would be rough, whispering the filthiest words in your ear, grabbing you by the chin and making you look where he entered you mercilessly, your cries like music to his ears. 

He would dangle you over the precipice of your pleasure, only to snatch it away in seconds, cooing when you would wail in protest, licking away the salty tears dribbling down your face. You would think it over, finally letting you fall into the chasm, moaning when he would pull out, only to be pushed into overstimulation when his head would bury itself between your thighs.  

It’s okay, sshh I got you. You won’t break that easy. Fuck, you taste so good. 

Some nights he would be gentle, softness heavy in his eyes, brushing away the hair from your face so lovingly. He would caress you as though you were made of porcelain, delicate kisses pressed into your skin, foreheads touching as he would savour you, setting an easy pace. His softness would jar you, streams of salty tears flowing down your cheeks, twisting your ankles around his waist to pull him closer, afraid of the end already.  

My sweet girl. Doing so well for me. 

On these nights the smell of perfume and whiskey would be the heaviest in the air. 

You never dared to ask who the perfume belonged to, a ball coming to constrict your throat, mind clearer after floating down from the highs. You would stare at him with your bleary eyes, crouched next to the edge of your bed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, helping you sit up and take sips of water. 

Is she pretty? Has she seen him like this? Do you remind him of her?  

The thoughts plague you, pushing away the glass and pulling him closer, kissing him again and this time tasting yourself. But it's never him that you taste, always hiding behind whiskey, you or the perfume that's so potent, it overwhelms every other sense. 

 And when his side of the bed is empty when the sun rays pour in through the windows in the morning, the guilt makes it appearance. 

Are you stealing him from someone? Are you unwittingly playing the part of the other woman? Should you ask him to stay? How do you ask him that when he never was yours in the first place? 

The last you had seen Leon was a few months now, the summer with him now a distant memory. But he still lingers, festering in your walls, reminding you of his existence, the ghost of his touch still haunting your skin. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe the ache in your heart will finally ease; it hasn’t yet but perhaps it needs a bit more time.  

The thought of him doesn’t leave your mind, eyes betraying you as they stray over to the pool table where you first saw him, zoning out and then reprimanding yourself to be present in the conversation between your friends. And you do forget – him, everything – for a while and it’s a nice sensation to not be burdened by your brain going miles per hour.  

You slip back in with your friends easily, laughing away in the booth, the alcohol loosening you up. Time slows down for a while, mellowing up as you catch up with what’s happening in your friends lives, sharing your own bits of updates. It almost wrecks you, that you avoided them for this long, shaking your head when you finally bid them goodbye, a warm glow settling in your chest. 

The walk back to your place is nicer now. The snow doesn’t bother you, the outdated Christmas decor no longer washing your mouth with bitterness, weaving through the crowd more efficiently and offering chippering apologies to those you bump into.  

Your keys jingle in your pocket as you hop up on the stairs to your floor, rounding around the corner to your door when your steps falter. The warmth in your chest begins to deflate like a balloon, feet stuck to the ground as your brain tries to catch up to what your eyes are seeing.  

There is an apparition at your door in the shape of a man, one you thought you would not see again. Leon looks like he’s been standing there a while, politely leaning against the wall next to your door. Your eyes are wide, his presence sobering you up like someone had dunked you with ice cold water.  

Leon stands up straight when he notices you frozen a distance away, hands coming out of the pockets of his jeans and nervously hanging by his sides. He shifts on his feet, straightening his back to stand a bit more proper, his eyes hanging onto your frame, raking up and down. 

“Hey,” Leon raises his hand in a half-wave, eyes searching your face.  

You're spellbound, mouth drying up at his sight. And like pavlov’s dog, you begin to sniff the air for the telltale signs, only to end up confused when you don’t sniff the heavy fragrance of whiskey or perfume. Instead, he smells good; aftershave, cologne and detergent flooding the hallway. It’s so unfamiliar that it finally jolts you awake. 

“Leon? What’s going on?” And so, you begin the waltz.  

But he immediately pulls you away from the dance floor, making you sit with him on a quiet bench, resting your feet. 

He looks...different. Nothing like how you remember him. His hair looks like it's been well kept, cut up by someone professional and not someone inexperienced standing underneath the flickering light of their bathroom with a rusty pair of scissors.

His cheeks are less hollow, some semblance of life in them, a nice dusting of pink all over his face. Leon’s eyes shine brighter, his lips no longer chapped and overall, he looks more confident in his skin. 

Handsome, still. Shit. You had forgotten how devastatingly pretty he was. 

He scratches the back of his neck, ruffling his hair in the process, you noting it being shades darker than last you saw him. “Nothing, just was waiting for you.” His eyes flicker to your jacket. “Nice jacket.” 

Your face warms, holding the lapels tighter around yourself, “Thanks. Didn’t know if you were gonna come back for it.” 

“No, no. It looks good on you.” 

You shuffle your feet, rolling on the balls of your heels. “You look...nice.” 

He huffs out a short laugh, “Yeah, I guess. Just trying to put my life back together.” 

“Oh,” You heart squeezes in your chest. Is this why he’s here? To rub it in your face how better he’s doing without you? Your spine stiffens, formality that’s usually reserved for a stranger bleeding into your tone. “I’m glad. Well, I need to get inside. Goodbye Leon.” 

Leon holds out his hand, palm out as though trying to calm a skittish animal, voice dropping a few decibels low that sends shivers down your body. “Are you free?” 

Your mouth hangs open, in disbelief at his audacity, delirium erupting under your skin, fixing with him a long look. “What?” 

“Yeah, there’s like a bunch of new places open nearb-” 

“What do you want Leon?” You cut him off, trying to hold your voice steady, folding your arms over your chest. 

He cringes at your tone, shoulders deflating a little. “Wanted to see if you want to go get some ice cream?” 

You stare at him. “Ice cream?” 

“Yeah.” 

And something begins to bubble in the bottom of your stomach, months of solitude – of denied emotions, of pretending his absence meant nothing to you, suddenly searing hot and coursing through your body.  

Your hands curl into fists beside you, pressing them against your thigh as they begin to shake. “Ice cream?” 

Your voice is barely even, remembering all the nights you spent alone in the front of your TV, his jacket held close to your nose, trying to inhale every last drop of his scent.  

“I haven’t seen you in months. And then you randomly appear on my doorstep asking if I want to get some ice cream with you like you hadn’t been showing up on short notice, fucking me and then disappearing without saying a word!?” 

Tears brim your eyes, Leon swimming in your vision. “Do you even know what kind of hell I’ve been going through!? Did you even think about me at all? Or are you only back now because I open my legs for you that easily.” 

“No,” He sharply halts you, taking one step towards you, “That’s not why I’m back. I-” He pushes his hair back frustratingly, “I miss you and fuck- you didn’t deserve that, you deserve so much better and I wanted to be that for you.” 

You scoff at his words, bumping harshly against his shoulder as you march towards the door, tears dribbling down your face. “Oh, how very kind of you to finally notice,” You snap, brandishing your keys out. You pause, whipping around and jabbing the pointed end of your key towards Leon. “You are such a goddamn hypocrite. What is this? Penance? You think one measly scoop of ice cream will resolve you of your guilt?” 

“Guilt?” He frowns, growing slightly agitated. “I just-” He takes a deep cleansing breath, eyes shut as though he’s counting. When he opens them again, they’re gentle, rounded looking at you and then away at your feet. “You deserve an explanation.” 

“For?” 

Leon gestures around with his hand, “This. Us. For the past year. I- I want you, to be with you. I’m not expecting you to forgive me in a second or anything for that matter. I just want a chance.” His eyes shake when he looks all over your face, voice croaking, “Just one chance, no expectations.” 

God it’s like he knows how hard it is for you to say no to him, never having the strength for it. Your mind reels, part of it urging you to melt into his arms, bury your nose into his neck and hold him close till he is one with you. But the other hesitates, reminding you all the times he has let you down. 

You fold your arms over your chest, turning away from him, one hand pressed over your heart. “God, I really hate you,” it comes out as a low whisper. 

You feel him linger behind you, hesitantly reaching out, fingers grazing your shoulder. And you melt, right into him, nose tucking away into his neck as he cradles the back of your head. Leon tightens his grip around you, holding you gently as your tears wet the front of his shirt.  

“I know,” He mumbles, rubbing soothing circles into your back, “I know you do, sweetheart.” 

You push back at the nickname, the heel of your palm digging into your cheeks as you wipe away your tears, trying your best to fix him with a frown. He lets you put distance between your bodies but doesn’t fully let go, hands still tangled around your waist. 

You hold up your index finger right under your nose, glaring at him, “One scoop. That’s all you get.” 

Leon stares at you dumbly, brain kicking alive after a few seconds, response coming out eager, “Yesofcourse.” 

“And I want gelato.” 

“Anything.” 

“With three wafers.” 

Leon wraps his palm around your finger, squeezing it with affection, “As you wish.” 

[cutiestdoe]

oh so you’re evil? Name every resident.

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waiting patiently for valentine's leon... hope you do something special 💕

Leon will die

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leon ptsd kennedy

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leon kennedy

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MY BOYFIEEEEEE

some more young leon screenshots i took!! hes so pretty with his full cheeks and soft eyes ❤️ love him very very much!!

i finished his route today and its really heartbreaking to me ill never have this feeling again i wish i could delete the gameplay from my memories and play it again

reblogs are overly appreciated, feel free to use if u wanna :)

[cutiestdoe]

ok yes the idea of him dicking you down like crazy right after your wedding reception is really fun, but think about the aftermath!!! when you’re both kind of exhausted but still hopped up on adrenaline and excitement, and you refuse to get up from the bed but he knows you — you’re gonna want to take your makeup off before bed. so he carries you bridal style to the bathroom, and you’re whining but also giggling, and you let him take off your makeup for you before you two shower. and he’s gentle with it, movements still a little bit uncertain, and he fumbles sometimes, but he knows your routine. and then you wash his hair in the shower and he rubs the body wash into your skin, and he dries you off before he does himself, and he carries you back to bed, and he won’t stop smiling and looking at you, and you’re laughing, and you’re like “stop staring at me!!! i can’t sleep like that!!!” and he has that dopey, lovesick grin on his face and he’s telling you—

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idgaf if ur emo listen to doechii before i start getting violent and mean.

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[cutiestdoe]

Dreams

Death Island! Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hospital, Coma, Injury, Near Death, Fluff Summary: One Month to go before a well deserved early retirement and all he can think about is the future

If you like this then I'll give you all a big kiss because I worked hard making sure this one flowed correctly!!

An early retirement was something that he never envisioned for himself, his life never seemed like it would end in something he wanted to do. The grass in the back garden was finally tended, the flower beds blooming beautifully as he stood watching over it with a coffee in hand. It was peaceful, weird. Something he was never quite used to. The soft barks of the dog were loud as they echoed in the open space. His money that he saved was more than enough to treat himself to this space, though it often felt too lonely. Until he found you, the light of his life. You just slotted yourself into his world without even trying. You worked perfectly understanding his duties and responsibilities he had to fulfil. The dog was next, a retired police dog. A protector in case something went wrong whilst he was away but he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. Not when he could see you from where he was standing, playing in the long grass with the old boy. 

He could see your smile the way you would pet him as he brought the ball back. It felt too much like a dream, like he never actually went into the office and demanded his retirement early after yet another mission gone bad. He felt lost without his work, his service. Having to train his hands to do something else other than fight, survive and protect. No hobby seemed to stick, nothing seemed to fill the gap he was left with. It was strange that he would spend so many years hating on his service, his job to then wish for it back. The scars that littered served as a reminder of what he went through, his medals of service shown proudly in a display case that you insisted on making. He watched you look at him, the grin on your face only growing wider. Your hair glowing in the sunlight as it blew into the wind. 

He wanted to reach you, to step off the porch and race to you. Scoop you in his arms and run through the garden with you. The dog following behind you both barking happily. Yet, his feet didn’t move from the back porch. His hand only raised waving at you. You never came closer– some days it felt like you were further and further away. The garden seemed to grow longer each passing day, the line of flowerbeds changing every so often. 

You watched him, the light shining brightly on him. His skin that was once full of colour -- now laid pale looking even more sick underneath the white light of the hospital. That damn beep engraving itself into your brain. You were meant to be happy with it, it meant he was still here. His heart steadily beat as you watched over him. Your hand clutching his tightly that your fingers grew sore.

There were others in the room coming and going, offering you food - drink anything you needed. They couldn’t help you though because they can’t help him. You didn’t want to cry anymore or return to a home where his side of the bed was cold. You didn’t want to lie on his pillow in case his scent got washed away even though that beep was proof he could…will…return. “Wake up please” You whispered as you laid your head against the side of the hospital bed.

His hand was cold, it shouldn’t be cold. It’s never been cold except for the time he bounded over to you when you were playing in the snow, shoving the frozen fingertips against your stomach as a joke. You remembered that night, the first winter in your new house. The one he always wanted with a large garden to play around with, to host family and friends with BBQ's and other events.

One month was all he had left, of all his service. It had to be their version of a fuck you that his mission had to have been another dangerous one, they couldn’t have just given him a simple chase like they did a few years ago. Sure it ended up being tied into something more but it was simple. The government showed how much they thought of him when they sent him there healthy and brought him back in a coma.

Just one month.

One. 

There were no more tears to cry anymore, your eyes were puffy from the amount you had been crying. It wasn’t fair. That he was so close to finally being able to lead his own life now he tethered on the edge of it.

“Leon wake up please” You begged again, voice waving as anger laced it. How dare he set it all up to just end here? You knew he was fighting that irritating beeping was proof he was still here. You needed his presence, you needed him just like all those times he needed you. The others jumped up as you spoke again, watching you with sad eyes as you screamed at him. Begged him to come back. You didn’t care if the hospital staff forced you to leave, you would come back the next day and do it again. Until he woke up. 

Leon continued to smile despite wanting to walk towards you. His foot never seemed to land on the grass, only hover. He felt bad, ignoring your smile and your voice that called out to him in a sweet tone. He wanted to warn you of the storm he spotted, the one that was coming behind him. He could feel the cold air trying to rip you away from him. Trying to force him to come back inside. Leon couldn’t…not without you. “Come back!” He shouted. You couldn’t hear him, not over the wind or the disappearing sun. His heart beat wildly in his chest. If only he could step on the damn grass. 

The beeping grew louder, doctors began to pull you away but you continued to shout at him. Even from the corner of the room where Chris held you against him. All of you watching in horror as Leon thrashed around. His hands gripping the sheets. You didn’t know what was happening, your shouts turning into whimpers as you stared at him. Watched as they tended to him. Your voice hurts, your body hurts, everything hurts.

Why Leon? Why did it have to be him? 

Leon turned around towards the house, the thunder crackled louder. He knew he needed to head inside, his brain was conflicting with his heart. You would come back surely. You would round the dog up and bring him back inside. You’ll come running through the doors laughing as the two of you are soaked beginning to help him shut the doors against the harsh winds. You wouldn’t stay out there, you would have heard him. The anxiety bit into him as he walked closer to the safety of the house, was the main light always this bright? You would shout at him if he found out you turned this one on and not the lamps. Always one for ambience lighting. The thunder was so loud, booming as it roared above him. Once he was inside he turned to watch you running up the garden to meet him.

Only you were gone, the flower beds had changed again. 

The nurses and doctors backed away from the bed, their bodies no longer hiding him from your view. They spoke to you but you couldn’t hear them, not when those eyes stared at you again. Chris’ grip had loosened, your legs wobbled as you approached the bed. His stubble bit into your hand as you cradled his face. “Leon?” You whispered. He smiled. He was here smiling. Your name sounded so sweet coming from his lips. You didn’t realise you could cry anymore, you thought all the tears were gone. “Never do that to me again” You laughed as you brought him close. “Please” 

It wasn’t until later - when everyone had gone home. With genuine smiles this time not the pity ones you had been given the past few days. Leon held you against his chest, his fingers working their way through your hair. He had been quiet, the silence at first you thought was just him getting overwhelmed by the full room. Or the numerous tests the doctors were running on him to make sure everything was okay. Yet, it continued as he held you now. His brain elsewhere whilst he remained here with you. 

Leon was the quiet hero, the one that was constantly praised and reminded of his success but never allowed to process the loss he had experienced. The saviours guilt that landed deep inside every time someone else died on his watch. Hero's were given parties and parades in celebration for their wins. Congratulated and recognised on the streets for their service but not him. All the work he had done was in silence, encase somehow someone linked him back to that one night that changed his world. A dark shadow of his past that effects everything he has done. He did what he did out of the goodness of his heart, out of just wanting to help people despite the horrors and baggage he has gained along the way.

His actions spoke louder than any words, that was why you fell in love with him. Why you knew no matter what he would have come back to you. Leon didn't love quietly like he was a hero. He shouted it to the stars above you, screamed it to any person that asked about you. You were his entire world, everything that was worth fighting for was in that dream he had. The survivors guilt washed away for just a moment when you got that house and he finally realised that he deserved something good. A slither of happiness to outshine all the bad. That was you. It will always be you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked. He flinched at your break of the silence. Leon sighed, his head landing on the shit pillow he had propped up behind him. “I was dreaming…during the coma” he stated simply. His words followed by a comforting silence, the space for him right now was much like all the nights he would return from missions and hold you like this. Only that was in the safety of your home, not the cold hospital that never seemed to be just as silent as you wanted it. “We were home with a dog, an older service dog. I’d watch you play with him in the garden but each day you got further and further away. The garden seemed to grow bigger and I could never reach the end. I couldn’t step off the back porch to meet you” 

“Then there was a storm, I tried to call you inside but when I turned around you were gone and I was awake” he continued as did the silence that followed his words. The two of you are taking in the gravity of the situation. It was then you realized his idea of heaven was his ending with you, the home you were in the middle of building, the garden that still hasn't been tended to. 

“I shouted at you. Screamed even. Begging for you to wake up, to come back - not to let it end like this” you admitted quietly. Leon felt you shift so you were sat up on the bed, your legs laid out over his thighs. Your soft hands landed on his face again guiding him to look at you. The world seemed to disappear when you did, nothing else mattered except him. Not anymore. “I’m back” He whispered, smiling softly at you. His lips touched your palm and kissed them. They were warm again, as were his hands when they touched your wrists. His fingers entwine yours looking at the ring on your finger. The same one that matched his. You nodded to his statement. “Maybe my shouting was the storm, waking you up from your dream?” You spoke again, leaning against his chest. Your head tucked neatly underneath his chin. “Well your anger and love can sometimes be like a raging storm” he teased. 

He was back, finally. Your bed would be warm again, the house would feel like home once more. “At least your recovery period leads up to your final day. I don’t have to worry about this happening again” You giggled. Leon smiled, his own chuckle leaving his lips briefly. “You’re doing all the gardening though, I have an idea for what it should look like. Now that I've had time to think about what the future might be like.” 

[cutiestdoe]

THIS IS SO GOOD!!!! HELLO?!!!!???!! i love this leon i would give him all the snacks he wants for a kiss :3

HIIII can u write a wrestling! leon one shot?? where he and his college team are on the way to a tournament and they have to stop at the gas station to fuel up and whatever and readers family owns the station and when he sees her it’s like love at first sight (if you’re comfortable with it, can u make it suggestive?)

MALBORO NIGHTS

SUMMARY: college wrestler leon kennedy x reader // leon is on his way to a wrestling tournament when he stops at the gas station for some snacks. he encounters you, a worker, and things turn into a hot mess.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! i don’t know a lot about wrestling so i had to research a bit on the topic. sorry if i got some information wrong!

WARNINGS: suggestive!! modern au, leon’s fear of failure and embarrassment, kinda sexual thoughts from leon but he feels bad about it, making out, reader and leon are both consenting adults, not proofread

leon’s wrestling team had won their conference tournament and now had to travel across the country to another tournament. this time, it was national. he had already flown across the country to another state with his teammates. they stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights, extending their visit to explore the state and its historical sites.

but when the morning came, and he had to travel to the venue, he surprisingly wasn’t nervous. it wasn’t unlike any of his other tournaments, and he was confident he will win. despite his young age, he was one of the best on the team.

the one thing he hated about traveling across the country for a tournament was the people. having to appear all mighty, strong, and perfect made him freeze in his tracks, and his stomach would flip. he was fine when he was just around his teammates, hell, when he was with them, it was a judgment-free zone.

even as he and his teammates packed up and brought their bags, laid them in a bus, and drove to the venue, he couldn’t ignore the agonizing feeling. he didn’t want to be embarrassed, and he didn’t want to fail in front of thousands of people! and as much as he loved seeing people do good at something they liked, he despised seeing people do better than him at wrestling.

wrestling was his sport, his passion. he claimed he’d lose his sense of self and confidence without it. but of course, chris always told him he’d be the same person with or without the wrestling.

despite his dreading feeling in his stomach, he talked with chris the whole ride. even as hours passed on the bus, even as chatter died down then people wouldn’t stop talking, he always had him by his side. leon admitted, chris always found a way to make him feel better.

leon’s chuckles become silenced once the driver announces, “alright, we’re gonna have to stop by a gas station of some sort! fuel’s gettin’ low!”

groans erupt from the rows of seats, and chatter fills his ears. many complaints are heard from his teammates around him, and even chris rolls his eyes at the announcement.

leon glances around the bus, seeing nothing but roads, cars, and trees for miles. he then shouts to chris, over the loud noises, “we’ll be fine. the tournament can’t start without us!”

he responds and continues ranting, “yeah, you’re probably right. better not start the tournament without us—“

minutes pass, and the bus suddenly halts to a stop. leon glanced out the window to see a gas station, remembering the bus is low on fuel. he feels a tap on his shoulder, so he turns around.

“leon, chris, i, and three other guys are gonna head into the store while the bus driver’s fillin’ up the tank. wanna come with?” carlos asks, smiling at the blonde and brunette.

leon doesn’t waste a second as he begins agreeing, commenting on how sitting in his ass for so long hurts. chris bellowed, and carlos said the same as they walked off the bus and into the store.

the six men split up to find snacks for their teammates, wandering around the isles to find their desired candy or chips. leon’s feet stomp against the red and white tiles. he settles on a protein bar, a bag of skittles, and a bottle of water for the trip. he then travels around the store to find more snacks for his teammates then calls out for his brunette friend.

chris quickly responds, “yeah?”

the blonde nods to the register, “you ready?”

a smirk appears on the brunette’s face, and leon looks puzzled. he asks what he’s smirking about, and turns around to see what gained chris’ attention.

there you stand, sucking on a lollipop as you meticulously flip through the pages of a thick book. your light pink nails came up to the lollipop stick every couple of seconds, popping it out of your mouth and wrapping your lips against it again. of course, you aren’t aware of your effect on the blonde wrestler standing many feet away from you.

leon begins to slouch and tries to shrink his frame. he nervously comments, “i don’t feel like going up to the register—“

he yelps when chris grabs him by the hood and pushes him to you, muting his protests as he tries to not any of the snacks. he shakes his head with wide eyes, then is suddenly met face-to-face with you and your book.

chris grins, teeth shining, “hey, leon, can you check these out for me? i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” chris taunts, winking as he pulls cash from his wallet.

he places it on top of leon’s snacks, held in his arms, all while dropping his items on the counter. leon’s cheeks warm up, and he hears his heart beating fast.

when you look up at him, he gives a lovesick smile. your eyes are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. the way you’re looking at him with a sultry smile causes him to nervously glance at the floor, unable to hold eye contact. once he

you take the items from the counter and scan them, starting up a conversation, “seems like there’s a whole lot of people out there,” referencing to the loud noises from the bus, “are you with them?”

leon’s eyes widen, and he fidgets with his fingers. his throat tightens, and he stutters, “oh— oh, um, yeah. i’m with them. we’re heading over to a wrestling tournament a few hours away.”

you pause in your tracks, not scanning the items anymore. he’s a wrestler? well, it does make sense. he looks incredibly muscular and well-built, but you have to admit, he is the finest man you’ve ever seen.

you notice he starts to appear nervous when you stare at him, so you continue placing the items in a bag and ask, “where are you coming from?” afterward, you place your hands on the counter in front of you and look up at the blonde.

leon blushes at your sudden change of position and your interest in learning more about him. he glances down at you more, gulping when he sees a peek of your cleavage. he loses his train of thought and forgets all about your question.

he begins to observe you, your shirt doesn’t fully cover your shoulder, and your bra strap peeks out. the way your heart necklace rests perfectly on your chest drives him crazy. your eyes have a certain glint in them, a seductive one.

you tilt your head, smirking as you realize he’s analyzing everything about you. he must’ve noticed your smile because he finally answers your question, “raccoon city—“

you roll your eyes and grab him by his hood, pulling him into a kiss. it’s almost as if you could read his mind because he was about to slowly lean in. he whimpers, wanting to be closer to you, so he puts his hand over yours on the counter.

your lips push against each other’s, but you pull away, groaning as you’re making out in a public space. you ask, out of breath, “break room?”

he quickly nods and you grab his sleeve, dragging him to the room behind the register. twisting the knob, you gently push him inside, and he feels a surge of confidence, pushing you against the nearby wall. he hadn’t had time to look around. he didn’t care if anyone was watching, he didn’t care that he didn’t know you as well as he wanted to. all he knew was that he needed you, and he needed you now.

he grabs your hip with his large hand, and you pull him in for another kiss. you take a fistful of his blonde hair, and he moans into the kiss. your bodies are heated and burning with anticipation, but you both want more. you know you do.

you raise your leg to his hip, almost wrapping it around his waist. he understands and places his hand on your ass, then picks you up. you wrap both of your legs around his waist, smiling into the kiss. he places you on a table and momentarily breaks away from the kiss.

saliva connects to your lips, and as disgusting as it is, it’s sure as hell hot, and you still want more.

he takes his sweatshirt and his shirt off then mumbles, “is this okay,” gripping your thigh and kissing your neck tenderly.

you gently scratch his scalp and nod, taking your shirt off, leaving only your bra and jeans to view. his abs glisten with sweat, and he leans down again, pushing his warm hand onto your stomach. you lay flat on the table and pull him in closer with your legs.

your lips intertwine and the action intensifies. you both moan, but suddenly you hear a sound that makes you both pause.

“leon, where are ya? we need to go!” a voice shouts.

leon sighs and closes his eyes, laying his head on your chest momentarily. he groans, “fuck,” and you giggle, relishing in how much he wants to continue. his hands still lay on your thighs, a silent reminder of what you were about to do.

you scratch his scalp and neck, then, with your other hand, you pick up your phone. you open the contacts app and tap his cheek, causing him to look up at you.

his cheeks and lips are red, both flushed and hot. his eyes look tired and begging, he wants more but needs to get to his tournament.

he grabs your phone and enters his phone number and his name. he then grumbles, “promise i’ll be back after the tournament.”

he picks up his clothes and your shirt, placing it on your lap. once he’s done dressing, you place your hand on his chest, “take the snacks for free. it’s on me.”

he opens his mouth to interject, but you shake your head and guide him to the register, “don’t forget to win, ‘kay? you’ll do great.”

he smiles and smoothens your messy hair, agreeing, “i’ll do my best. i’ll text you right after.”

you look up and tilt your head again, slowly standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. you gently place your lips on his, and it’s much more relaxed and loving than before.

but leon hears another call of his name, and he kisses you back. he smiles and walks away, but before he leaves, he yells, “i’ll be back, y/n!”

as he jogs the short distance to the bus, he notices chris standing right outside the entrance to it. the brunette notices his disheveled hair and points it out, “you look like you just got banged,” and walks onto the bus, sitting in their seats next to each other.

he mumbles, “wait,” then his eyes widen. his pearly whites shine, realizing what leon just did.

this was gonna be a long ride.

[cutiestdoe]

Leon is no longer with us

[cutiestdoe]

OH MY GOOOOOOD🥹🥹🥹 eldest college daughter here and i need him sm

"Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity." THAT'S SO TRUE??? i've been on vacation and i just can't lie down and sleep like a normal person T ^ T i've been literally cleaning the house or doing exercise or even PAINTING OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE???? and if i lie down for a second is... Really weird

pls god i just want leon's arms to fall asleep... that would fix me 😞😞😞😞😞

i love how he doesn't minimize reader's strengths and her own independence like ughshfjsjsjwhddh thanks babe i've been independent since i was a kid thanks for noticing!!!!

such a kiss to the heart is this :,) thank you so much!!!! (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

next

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

masterlist | next part

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

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if i wasn’t so scared, i’d write the most jaw dropping toe curling smut about leon drilling reader while holding them in a headlock and groaning in their ear 😋 i need that man’s muscles