robidentevil

[robidentevil]

If you’re gonna use a fucking ai robot to write your fics, don’t write at all. I’m seeing a rise in them when it’s so obvious. Authors don’t develop the skills just to have a water sucking clunker steal it.

[robidentevil]

i litterally have no motivation whatsoever to write the next chapter YES write. i havent written one word..

#helpme #getmeoutofhere #idontwannadothis

[robidentevil]

- my spot ᱖ ꒱

collegestudent!leon kennedy x fem!reader

disclaimers: swearing.

chapter 8-

The sky was still dark when you slipped out of your dorm room.

5:12 AM.

Too early for anything, too late to fall back asleep. The hallway was silent, filled only with the low hum of emergency exit lights. You padded down its length with your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, the frayed ends brushing against your fingertips. Each step felt muted against the faded carpet, like you were a ghost gliding through a world that hadn’t woken up yet.

The stairwell was cold, concrete seeping into your bones as you climbed each step, fingers trailing along the rust-chipped railing. When you reached the rooftop door, you paused, forehead resting against the metal, feeling its chill bleed into your skin. Your chest felt tight. Heavy. Something inside you was waiting to burst, but you didn’t even have the energy to let it.

You pushed the door open. It creaked against the quiet, echoing out into the dawn, and you flinched at how loud it sounded. Stepping onto the rooftop, you were met with biting morning air. It smelled like damp concrete and the faint smoke from chimneys in the distance. The city below was barely awake. Flickering windows glowed orange against the deep grey, a few cars crawled through deserted streets, their headlights slicing through the dark like blades.

You sat down near the ledge, the concrete pressing its cold bite into your thighs through your sweatpants. Pulling your knees to your chest, you buried your face into the soft worn cotton of your hoodie sleeves. The sky above was black fading to grey, the last tired stars blinking out against the slow-bleeding blush of dawn.

Everything felt so quiet up here. Even your thoughts. For the first time in what felt like forever, your mind wasn’t screaming at you. The guilt, the anger, the fear – it all felt distant. Like it was trapped behind glass, muted by the chill of the wind brushing against your skin. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, but you didn’t mind. There was something comforting about being alone before the world opened its eyes. Like, for a fleeting moment, you didn’t have to carry anything heavier than your heartbeat echoing softly in your chest.

You tilted your head back to watch the sky shift and melt into soft bruised blues, pale gold unfurling at the edges. Your breaths came out in little clouds, dissipating into the chilled air as fast as they appeared.

The sun finally peeked over the horizon, setting fire to the tops of buildings with muted orange light. You sighed, checked the time on your cracked phone screen, and dragged yourself back down to your room to get ready for class.

—

You found yourself standing in front of your literature class, staring at the faded number plate above the door. Your hand hovered over the handle, fingertips grazing the cool metal. But then yesterday’s scene replayed in your mind, unbidden:

The snickers.

The stares.

The way your professor’s eyes flicked between you and Leon with thinly veiled annoyance, the class’s whispers sharp against your spine.

Your chest tightened and you felt your face burn hot. No. Not today. One day wouldn’t hurt, right? You could make something up later. Anything was better than walking back in there feeling like your skin was inside out.

You turned away, hoodie strings bouncing against your chest, and walked down the hall with your head down. Your feet carried you aimlessly until you heard a voice, low and familiar, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see him. Leon. His hair was messy, pushed back like he’d run his hands through it too many times. Dark circles carved themselves into the skin under his eyes, but his expression was amused as he walked towards you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Leon?” you said, blinking at him like he was a mirage.

He tilted his head, eyes scanning your face before smirking slightly. “Shit, you’re skipping too?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I could just be late.”

He raised a brow at you, crossing his arms to mirror your stance. The faint morning light caught the slope of his collarbones under his loose t-shirt, and you had to force your eyes away.

“Fine,” you muttered under your breath. “I’m skipping. Like that’s any of your business.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner, a laugh leaving his chest as he shook his head. “True. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You couldn’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “I won’t.”

He saluted you with two fingers against his forehead, the motion lazy and teasing before he turned away to walk down the hall, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner.

You watched him go, something bitter and sweet curling under your ribs. Your chest ached, a familiar burn you were tired of feeling.

—

The next day arrived faster than you wanted it to.

You’d forced yourself to come to class, sitting near the back with your head down, scribbling aimlessly into the margins of your notebook while the lecture droned on. Your eyes felt heavy, lids fluttering as sleep tried to claim you, but each time your mind drifted, it only went to him. His face. His words. The way his voice cracked when he told you how he felt, anger slipping between the syllables like poison-tipped knives.

You didn’t realise class was over until everyone began packing up. You jolted, sitting upright, heart thumping fast. Before you could gather your things and slip out with the crowd, your professor’s voice cut through the low chatter:

“Y/N, Leon – stay after class.”

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

You sank into your seat as the room emptied, students glancing back with nosy eyes, their murmurs filling the silence like static. Leon slumped back into the chair before yours, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm.

When the last student left, the professor sighed and leaned against his desk, fingers tapping against a stack of graded papers.

“Though I have no business in your personal lives,” he started, his voice tired but stern, “I do have business in your academic ones.”

You and Leon shared a glance before looking back at your professor.

“Your presentation was…close to being a mess. Though,” he said, flipping through your notes, “the actual work was impeccable. I may say that saved you both from a failing grade.”

Your shoulders loosened slightly, but he wasn’t done.

“But your behaviour lately?��� He shook his head. “Coming in late. Skipping. Disrupting each other. It’s concerning. I would usually assign a dual project to make up for this, but given…your situation, I’m assigning individual ones.”

You felt your chest tighten again. Another project. Another chance to ruin everything you’d barely stitched back together.

You both nodded, mumbling quiet thank you’s before hurrying out of the classroom. Neither of you said a word as you parted ways down the hallway. Each step felt heavy, like your bones were weighed down by everything unsaid.

—

Back in your dorm, you sat at your desk, notebook open, pen hovering above the page. The silence in your room was deafening, punctuated only by the ticking of your old wall clock and the occasional gust of wind rattling your windowpane.

You tried to write. Anything. But each word dissolved before your pen could carve it into the page. Each sentence you forced out twisted into his name before it was even fully formed.

Leon.

Leon.

Leon.

You ripped out the page, crumpled it, and threw it into the trash. The ball hit the rim and bounced onto the floor. You stared at it blankly, chest burning. You tried again. And again. Each attempt ended the same way – with another ripped page tossed aside, the paper mountain at your feet growing taller and taller until your trashcan overflowed, sheets cascading onto the faded carpet like broken confessions.

Your breath came out ragged and uneven. Your chest heaved, eyes blurry with angry tears that refused to fall.

Finally, you whispered into the empty room, voice cracking:

“Fuck this.”

You slammed the notebook shut, stood up so fast your chair screeched against the floor, and shoved your feet into your worn-down sneakers. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you grabbed your keys, flung your door open, and nearly collided with a wall of warmth standing in your doorway.

You froze. Your lungs stopped working.

Leon stood there, hand raised mid-knock, eyes wide with shock. His hair was a mess, he’d been running his hands through it again, and his chest rose and fell with shallow, nervous breaths. For a moment, neither of you said a word. The world felt like it held its breath with you.

“Le–?” you started, but he cut you off, voice low and trembling.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, eyes locked with yours. His hand fell to his side, fingers curling into a fist. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch under his skin. Then he swallowed hard, and his next words came out in a hoarse whisper that felt like it ripped him apart to say.

“I love you.”

Silence. It wrapped around you both like a heavy blanket, suffocating and warm all at once. Your ears rang with it, your heart beating so loud you swore he could hear it. The world around you disappeared – the chipped paint of your doorframe, the flickering hallway light, the voices echoing from downstairs. All of it faded, leaving only the space between you and him.

You went quiet. He went quiet. And in that quiet, something bloomed. Something soft and aching and beautiful in its fragility.

You both shared silence, but a bond unspoken yet felt.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

⁺₊˚my spot ˚₊‧

college student!leon kennedy x fem!reader

fluff, angst, suggestive, swearing.

| yall no joke. i thought i posted this and i was like thinking “hehehe i wish i could see their reactions to (certain part)” and then i realized i didn’t post it and it was marinating in drafts lololol |

-chapter 7-

The night presses down on you like a curse. Every breath feels like pulling air through wet cement. Heavy. Suffocating. Your chest aches from how tightly it’s curled around your ribs, like your body is bracing for something awful before it even arrives.

You’re curled under your blanket, eyes locked on the ceiling. The thin cracks running across the plaster swim in and out of focus as tears gather, only to spill down the sides of your face and vanish into the pillow. You’re not even sure how long you’ve been lying there like this—silent, unmoving, waiting for something to give.

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

The heater hums softly in the corner, rattling with every cycle, but it doesn’t fill the silence. You can still hear the echo of your heartbeat thudding through your ears like it wants to claw out of your chest.

Your phone lies face down next to you, the notifications silent. Dead weight. Just another reminder of how alone you are right now.

Your mind flickers back to him—His eyes. The way his voice broke when he yelled.

The look he gave you was like you’d torn something out of him with your bare hands.

And for what? You wanted to protect yourself, didn’t you? You didn’t want to get hurt, so you pushed him away first. So why does it hurt more now, lying here alone, with nothing left to hold onto?

You think about texting him. Maybe just something casual. Something stupid. Anything to break this silence that’s swallowing you whole.

You're shaking hands fumbling for your phone. You open his contact, staring at his name. Your vision blurs with tears you try so hard to blink away. What would you even say?

“Hey. how are you. sorry for everything!”

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, trembling so badly the phone slips from your grip.

It clatters onto the tile floor with a crack so loud it startles you out of your daze.

You stare at it. Tears fill your eyes faster now, blurring everything into glowing, useless shapes. A choked sob claws out of your throat, echoing too loudly in the tiny room.

You slap your hands over your mouth, chest heaving, shoulders trembling. Your lungs burn with every ragged inhale.

Finally, you pick up your phone, inspecting the damage through blurred vision.

The screen is shattered and fractured like a spiderweb of broken glass. Useless.

Guess you and your phone have something in common.

Your thumb grazes a jagged edge and pain blossoms instantly. Blood beads up under your nail, dripping onto the cracked screen.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Everything is too much. The trembling turns to full-body shaking as you press your fists against your eyes, sobs ripping out of you like they’ve been trapped for years. You feel sick. The room spins.

You can’t breathe.

Suddenly, you’re moving. You’re slipping on your shoes, grabbing your keys with shaking hands. Your tears keep falling, wetting your hoodie. Your throat feels raw and torn as you gasp for air, sobs refusing to quiet.

Before you even realise it, you’re standing in front of his door. Your knuckles are white where you grip them at your sides.

You feel dizzy. Weak.

Pathetic.

You hesitate. Your mind screams at you to run back. To hide. But your heart refuses to move. You knock once. Twice. Then banging.

The sound rattles your bones with each slam against the wood.

Your tears fall faster. Your chest twists painfully.

The door swings open. He’s standing there, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair is a mess, hoodie half-zipped, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His eyes are puffy, dark circles etched beneath them like bruises.

He freezes.

“Y/N?” His voice is hoarse with sleep. Confused.

Concerned.

And that’s all it takes. Your legs buckle as tears pour down your face, sobs wracking your chest so hard you can barely stand.

You clutch the doorframe to keep upright, knuckles straining white.

“I—I didn’t know where else to go,” you gasp out between sobs.

“I can’t… I can’t do this without you. Fuck.”

Your voice breaks on the last word, dissolving into tears.

His jaw clenches, eyes flickering over your face, taking in your swollen eyes, trembling lips, and bloodied thumb.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The silence cuts sharper than any blade.

You see his shoulders tense and panic floods your chest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—I’ll just—”

But before you can turn away, his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you forward. You stumble into him, face buried against his chest, the smell of coffee and clean laundry hitting you so hard your knees nearly give out.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his face into your hair.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers, but his voice cracks like he might cry too.

You let out a broken laugh, sobbing harder into his chest as his grip tightens around you like he’s terrified you’ll slip away again.

Eventually, he guides you inside. You’re still sobbing quietly, sniffling as you wipe your face on your sleeve. He rolls his eyes, tossing you a tissue box with a small shake.

“Gross,” he mutters, but his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.

You sit crisscrossed on his couch, facing him in the dim light of the living room. He looks exhausted. Hair sticking up at weird angles, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the veins running down his forearms.

“Why did you come here, Y/N?” he asks softly, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper.

Something cracked.

You fidget with the strings of your hoodie, twisting them around your fingers as your eyes fill up again.

“I couldn’t be alone anymore,” you whisper. “Not with my mind.”

He nods, eyes dropping to his lap. His hands clench into fists before loosening again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah. I get that.”

You wonder what wars rage in his head. What keeps him awake at night? What eats him alive from the inside out?

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You can stay here tonight,” he says, voice quiet. “The couch is shit, so you can sleep in my bed while I—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, shaking your head. “Leon, I’ll just le—”

“Don’t.” His hand reaches out, wrapping around your wrist again, grounding you.

“Stay.”

You nod, blinking back tears as a tiny, broken smile cracks through your shaking lips.

You keep wiping your nose with your sleeve, sniffling like a child. He rolls his eyes, pushing the tissue box closer to you. You mumble a quiet “thanks” before blowing your nose, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Leon, I—” you start, voice shaking.

“Don’t,” he cuts in again, shaking his head. “Not right now.”

You nod. You understand. You do.

Hours later, neither of you has moved. Your head lolls against the couch cushion, eyes drooping shut. His head eventually drops onto your shoulder, hair brushing against your neck, his breath warm and steady.

Neither of you wants to fall asleep. But neither of you wants to be anywhere else.

The next thing you know, morning sunlight is slicing through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the room. You blink blearily, reaching for his phone on the coffee table to check the time.

8:47 AM.

Your heart stops.

“Fuck—” You scramble off the couch so fast your knees buckle, almost crashing into the coffee table. He jerks awake at the noise, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes wild.

Your literature class started at 8:30.

You’re both so fucking late.

You mumble a string of curses under your breath as you grab your keys and sprint out the door, heart hammering against your ribs. He darts into his room, emerging seconds later with a shirt half-buttoned, grabbing his bag, and running after you.

You burst into the classroom at the same time, panting, hair messy, clothes rumpled. The professor’s eyebrow arches so high that it nearly disappears into his hairline. Murmurs ripple across the room like wildfire.

“Rough night?” a guy snickers from behind you, earning a wave of laughter and giggles from his friends.

Your cheeks burn hot, your stomach twisting with shame. You don’t dare look at Leon. You sink into your seat, heart hammering so hard you feel dizzy.

But even then, even with the embarrassment burning you alive, you can still feel the ghost of his warmth lingering on your skin. And somehow… somehow, that’s enough to keep you breathing.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

˚₊‧ა my spot ໒ ‧₊˚

college student!leon kennedy x fem!reader

angsty, swearing

| leons pov loll, god i was gone for like 2 weeks? and this is heellllaaa short. but i love it, so much. i promise chapter 7 will be longer. |

-chapter 6-

————————- leon’s pov ———————————-

The morning light filters weakly through cracked blinds, painting his room in dull stripes of gray. His phone buzzes again, but he doesn’t reach for it. The coffee on his desk has gone cold, untouched, forgotten. He drags a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy and unfocused.

there’s this weight in his chest — thick. suffocating. he tries to breathe through it, tries to make sense of the mess inside his head. but it’s all her. it’s always her.

The texts. The silence. The fight. How he’d promised himself he wouldn’t call. How he already misses her like hell. god, he feels pathetic.

he sits on the edge of his bed, staring down at his phone. her name blinks back at him, bright against the dark screen. and for a second, the world just… stops.

he glances around at the chaos of his room. clothes draped over chairs. books scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. papers, receipts, empty coffee cups everywhere. it looks like a storm ripped through here. maybe it did. maybe it’s still here, sitting in his chest, refusing to leave.

he stands up, not bothering to make the bed. what’s the point? the same routine repeats itself like clockwork. wake up. coffee. stare at his phone. think about her. sleep. repeat.

repeat until he forgets what it felt like to be alive.

he decides to make coffee at home today. not risking the chance of running into her at the café. he makes it black. he hates it black. but the bitterness numbs something inside him. maybe that’s the appeal. he chokes it down anyway.

Buzz buzz buzzzz.

His phone rattles violently on the table. God, Chris again. Does that man ever shut up? Calls. Texts. More calls. He ignores every single one. Or he tries to.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a pounding on his front door. Heavy. Relentless. He’d recognise that knock anywhere.

“open up, kennedy. or i’m kicking this door down.” he lets out a huff and drags himself to the door, unlocking it with a click. chris stands there, glaring down at him like he’s ready to throw him across the room.

chris steps inside without asking, eyes scanning over the mess. “well, that’s one way to greet a guest,” he mutters.

Leon rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Chris repeats, voice sharp. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man? You’ve been missing in action for a week.”

“I’ve been busy—”

“bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” he snaps, brows furrowing.

“I said bullshit,” Chris shoots back, unblinking. “You’re acting like someone fucking died.”

he sucks in a sharp breath, jaw tightening. “even if someone did, it’s none of your business.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “When you slump around like a corpse and ignore everything, it kinda becomes my business.”

“You don’t know anything, Chris.” his voice staggers. Cracks.

Chris’s expression softens just a fraction.

“Then tell me.”

But while Chris talks, Leon’s mind drifts far away. Somewhere else entirely.

Her laugh. that stupid grin when she’d tease him. the way her eyes sparkled when she was about to say something she knew would piss him off. the way her tears fell because of him. fuck. He hates himself.

His chest tightens painfully, stomach sinking like it’s full of rocks. His fists clench at his sides, nails digging crescent moons into his palms.

“just… don’t drag this out forever, man.” chris’s voice is quiet now. tired. “we’re. we’re worried about you man.”

he leaves not long after. leon doesn’t say bye.

doesn’t look up from the floor.

and then it’s just him.

alone. again.

Bad.

bad bad idea.

Suddenly, every sound is louder. the ticking of the clock. The hum of the fridge. the cars passing by outside. Each noise feels like nails scraping down his spine.

He wants to scream. Or punch a hole through the wall. Or call her. God, he wants to call her so bad.

anything but this.anything but sitting here in this miserable silence. he doesn’t even know if he’s angry or just… pathetic.

fuck this.

He picks up his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. What would he even say?

“Hey y/n! Sorry for being an asshole and embarrassing you in front of the whole class?”

“Sorry for ruining everything we almost had?” god, he’s so fucking stupid.

His chest aches so bad it feels like it’s splitting open. His vision blurs, tears threatening to spill. He tosses the phone away before he does something he’ll regret.

He drops back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting every crack in the paint over and over, just to keep himself from breaking, just to keep the tears from falling.

But the worst part? The worst part is knowing tomorrow will be the exact same.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

no leon kennedy would NOT be nonchalant and mysterious in modern life.

do u guys forget how un traumatized leon acted..

HE WOULD BE SO GOOFY AND CHEESY I SWEAR

hed smile weirdly and look at his feet and roll his ankle instead of bouncing it!!!

he would listen to some weird ass horrible music only him and the singer know of.

U GUYS R DRIVING ME INSANE HES A CUTE LITTLE AWKWARD BOY I WANNA PUT IN MY POCKET NOT UR BAD BOY NONCHALANT MYSTERIOUS LITTLE MAN

[robidentevil]

i just thought abt arthur morgan ignoring his lover and staying away afraid to contaminate them, and holy shit it hasnt left my mind for the past 3 whole days. so instead of my au.. take this my loves <3

——-

You couldn’t take it any longer. Was this man cheating on you? You didn’t know. Told yourself you didn’t care who she was. Pretended it didn’t matter.

But something had to end here. It was either you and Arthur… or him and her.

You found him sitting under the old oak, scribbling into his journal like he always did when the world weighed too heavy. You leaned against the trunk above him, arms folded tight to keep from shaking.

“So, big guy… who is she?”

He looked up, brows knitting. “What?”

“Don’t act stupid, big boy. Who is she?”

His mouth parted, lips dry and chapped. “What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“I’m talkin’ about the fact you been ignorin’ me.”

“No I ain’t.”

“Yes you have, Arthur Morgan.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple with calloused fingers. “Been tired.”

“Tired from cheatin’?”

He stood up so fast his journal fell into the dirt. “No?!”

“Then why ya tired?” Your voice cracked despite your resolve.

He frowned, eyes glassy and far away. “I been—”

“Arthur,” you whispered, softer now, “in all these years, have you ever been able to lie to me?”

He scratched his head, chest rattling with the breath he drew in. “I got TB.”

And just like that, the world went silent.

The chatter of camp faded. People blurred to nothing. It was just him, and you, and the sound of your heart breaking.

Hes? Sick?

Your knees buckled under the weight of it all. You fell into the grass, and he followed, kneeling before you with that same look of quiet defeat he wore in every mirror.

“Arthur—”

“’M sorry, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice trembling around the apology.

“H-how… why?”

“Strauss. Debt collectin’ job.” His eyes flicked away, ashamed.

Suddenly, rage burned hot in your chest. You wanted to kill Strauss. Burn down the world if it meant saving him.

“You can’t do nothin’,” he said softly.

“No. No—there has to be a way!” You grabbed his vest with shaking hands, pulling him closer.

He shook his head, coughing into his shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “There ain’t, darlin’. Just gotta wait it out.”

“We. Correction: we. You ain’t doin’ this alone.”

He let out a breathless, broken laugh. “What, you gonna get TB too?”

“I will if I have to.”

He closed his eyes, pained. “No you ain’t .”

Your tears fell before you could stop them, splattering against his knuckles where they rested in the grass. “We can’t do anything…”

You didn’t respond. He just reached out to brush a tear from your cheek with trembling fingers.

You hated that he was right. Hated that all you could do was cry. All you could do was watch him spit up blood. Watch him fail at things he used to do with ease. Watch the man you loved turn into something softer, weaker, smaller.

He was getting closer to the end.

And there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it—

except hold him, and love him, until his lungs gave out and the sun rose without him.

[robidentevil]

. ˚ my spot ֹ ₊

collegestudent!leon x fem!reader

swearing, angst(?)

—-

if u finish reading it.. dont hate me.. if u didnt? enjoy it.. i love you guys trust me

-chapter 5-

second semester’s on.
you’re supposed to be going over the last bits of work with leon,
but you can barely bring yourself to even text him.
stupid, right?
right.

the knock on your door is loud.
jill doesn’t wait before barging in, voice already halfway to exasperated:
“you can’t be depressed and failing, y/n. c’mon. up.”

you groan, drag yourself upright.
the weight of everything pulls at your limbs like cement.
“you have to talk to him,” she says, softer now, as you pull on a hoodie.
you ignore it. pretend you didn’t hear her.

thank god english lit isn’t on your schedule today.
if it was, you’d have to see him.
and you’re not ready to be seen like this.

you come back to your dorm and she’s waiting again.
leaned back in her chair, scrolling like she hasn’t been pacing.
“what if he never hurts you, but you don’t even try?”
you snap too fast, too sharp:
“what if he does, and it ruins me?”

silence.
she just nods and looks away.
and you?
you hate her for being right.
hate yourself for not being able to be brave.

you’re not a child.
you’re not a child.
you’re not a—

buzz buzz.
leon.
his name lights up your screen like it’s on fire.
your heart stutters.

fuck. him again?

should you go? should you answer?
you stare at the message until your vision blurs.
your fingers hover over the keyboard—

—then drop.

you’ll go tomorrow. for real this time.
fuck it. tomorrow.

you close your phone.
he left you on read.
your chest tightens.

of course he’s pissed.
you deserve that, right?
you’ll deal with it later.
you need sleep.
or a way out.

you show up the next day.
no warning. no message.
if he wants it so bad, he’ll be there. right?

you knock.
he answers after too long—like he almost didn’t.
he doesn’t say hi. doesn’t smile.
you walk past him like a ghost in your own body.

“where the fuck were you?”
his voice is flat. restrained.
you flinch.

“i wasn’t sure if you were even gonna come,” he mutters, not looking at you.
you roll your eyes, fake annoyed, trying not to fold into yourself.

you sit down. open your laptop.
he does the same.

but something’s off.
the air? wrong.
too quiet. too sharp.

“what the fuck are you doing?”
he says it low. controlled.
like he’s giving you one last out.

you blink. “what?”

“nothing?” he repeats, voice rising now.
“nothing? oh yeah, everything’s peachy. it’s all fucking fine, right?”

your chest twists.
“i needed space.”

he laughs.
bitter. ugly.

“space?”
he echoes it like it’s a curse.
“ohh, space. okay. right. space.”
he throws his hands up.

“you didn’t seem to need space two weeks ago.”

you freeze.
he sees it.
and it only makes him angrier.

“no. don’t do that. don’t shut down. you don’t get to be the only one scared, y/n.”
his voice breaks, just a little. just enough.

“you think you’re the only one who’s terrified? the only one who’s been fucked over?”
he’s pacing now.
running his hand through his hair, wild with the need to move.

“i told you shit i’ve never told anyone. and you just—you left.”
his voice drops.
quieter.
worse.

“i trusted you.”
he swallows.

hard.
“and you didn’t even show up.”

you open your mouth. “leon—”

he cuts you off. fast.

“if you’re so good at giving people space, maybe you should just keep walking.”
his eyes flick to yours. cold.
“maybe all of this happened because we were stuck in the same place. close proximity. convenience.”

your stomach drops.
but he’s not near finished.

“maybe there was never anything. maybe i was just—”
he laughs, breath catching.
shaking his head.

“—desperate. for something. for anything, really. and you were just... there.”

your mouth opens. closes. opens again.
but there’s nothing left to say.

he stares at you for a long, quiet second.
then looks away.

“i’ll finish the rest of the project. just—”
his voice falters. he bites it back.
“just go.”

you leave.
the door clicks behind you like a full stop.
your throat burns, eyes sting, but you don’t cry.
not yet.
you walk down the hall counting every step like it might keep you from falling apart.

a few days pass.
but you can’t shake it.
his voice.
his face.
the first time he ever yelled at you.

maybe you’re being dramatic.
maybe he’s not worth it. its stupid.
right?

doesn’t matter.
you’ve got a bigger problem now.

like the fact you have a presentation today.
with him.

fuck.

you try to act normal, pretend it’ll go normal.
you tell yourself it’s just a few slides and some bullshit analysis.
you try to breathe, ignore that tight curling feeling in your chest.
try not to crack open in front of the class.

you both stand side by side.
shoulders tense.
the silence? violent.

if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under.
he doesn’t utter a word.
doesn’t need to.

you can feel it radiating off him.
cold. cutting.

you clear your throat.
eyes fixed on the screen.

“so... we believe that this part of the poem—”

a snort slices through the air.
“‘we,’ huh?”
his voice is sharp. mocking.
“so you speak for both of us now?”

you hesitate. blink once.
mutters slip out before you can stop them.
“leon, please…”

he tilts his head. fake sweet.
“go on. you’re clearly doing great.”

you grip the edge of the podium like it might hold you together.

“moving on,” you say, voice wobbling,
“we can see that the poet uses metaphor to—”

“sure,” he cuts in with a shrug.
“because metaphors fix everything, right?”

your eyes flash to him.
his tone isn’t loud.
but the words?
god, they echo.

the class is silent.

the air is thick with secondhand discomfort.

every breath feels like it might shatter the moment.

“okay,” the professor finally says, sharp,
“if you’re not going to present, then go sit down. this is not a therapy session.”

for a second, neither of you move.
then, at the same time, you pack up like robots.
clicks and zippers and silence.

he nudges your shoulder when you pass—barely.
petty.
fucking manchild.

you don’t look at him.
you can’t.

you sit down. head down. throat tight.
you’re not going to cry in front of everyone.
you’re not.
you’re not.

the professor lets out a breath.
murmurs just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“...interesting teamwork they’ve got.”

you don’t need to check the grade.
you know you flunked.
both of you.

well.
shit.

you don’t talk after class.
you don’t even look at each other.

he walks left.
you walk right.

but your shoulder still burns from where it almost touched his.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

𐔌 . ˚ my spot ֹ ₊ ꒱

collegestudent!leon x fem!reader

fluff, swearing, enemies to lovers trope.

——-

i felt festive. so don’t mind how its suddenly December. have a holly jolly time reading my fav chapter!! ho ho ho..

-chapter 4-

The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated Leon’s dorm, casting gentle shadows over scattered papers and empty coffee mugs. The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of his laptop, a little too close for comfort, but neither of you moved. The only sounds were the occasional clack of keys, the low hum of the air conditioner, and your synchronized breathing.

Finally, you leaned back with a small, satisfied stretch.

“All done.”

Leon glanced over, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. We did well.”

You stood, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you after the break.”

He nodded, already shutting the laptop. “See you then.”

There was a moment—brief, quiet—but not awkward. A silence you both sat comfortably in. You gave him a small wave, and with that, stepped out into the cold.

Christmas was right around the corner. And despite everything… you had a weird feeling this break might not suck.

—

You pushed open the door to your shared dorm room and were immediately greeted by Jill in full battle mode with her suitcase. Clothes flew, zippers screamed, and it was pure chaos.

She glanced over. “Y’know, you don’t have to spend break here. My family wouldn’t mind—”

“Jill. Please.” You cut her off, your voice quieter than you meant. “If my own family doesn’t want me, I’m not about to crash someone else’s.”

Her expression softened. She didn’t press. Just gave a small nod and went back to her suitcase. You collapsed onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, already preparing for a lonely, boring break.

—

The next day, you trudged into the library, expecting it to be dead quiet. Your spot. Your sanctuary.

Except it wasn’t empty.

Leon was sitting there like a damn gremlin, hunched over, deeply invested in... something.

You blinked. He blinked. Then dropped his pen like he’d seen a ghost.

“Aren’t you supposed to be gone?” he asked, clearly caught off guard.

You crossed your arms. “Nice way to greet a woman. And not that I owe you an explanation, but... my dad’s car’s in the shop.”

He mumbled something under his breath and turned back to his laptop, suddenly very busy.

A little later, without looking at you, he cleared his throat. “Uh... wanna work on the project today?”

You didn’t even glance up. “Sure.”

—

That afternoon, you knocked on his dorm door. He opened it like it was any other day.

But something felt... off.

There was no suitcase. No duffel. Not even a stray sock packed. Nothing.

You raised a brow. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

He froze.

“...Well, shit.”

You tilted your head. “Can I ask why?”

He scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I’d rather not say.”

You nodded slowly. “I’m not going either.”

He blinked. “Wait—what?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. No plans. Guess I’m staying, too.”

There was a pause. Then you both cracked up laughing.

“We really gotta stop lying to each other,” you said, still giggling.

Leon, grinning now, looked you straight in the eye. “Wanna ditch the whole thing?”

You blinked. “What?”

“We weren’t supposed to work during break anyway,” he shrugged. “Why not enjoy it?”

You smirked. “Christmas spirit, right?”

—

Next thing you knew, you were at a skating rink.

“Ever skated before?” he asked, tying his laces.

You shifted awkwardly. “Uh, never.”

“Good. I haven’t either,” he smirked. “Let’s go.”

It was a disaster. You clung to each other trying to balance—spoiler alert: you failed. Miserably.

At one point, Leon tried to spin.

He nearly took out a toddler.

You were clinging to the wall like it owed you rent while he tried dragging you into the middle.

“If you break my leg, I’m suing!” you yelped.

He finally got you off the wall—only for you to fall face-first on the ice.

He laughed so hard he cried.

When he tried to help you up, he slipped and fell too.

You both got kicked out for “causing a scene.”

—

Later, you wandered into a sketchy little diner that looked like it hadn’t passed an inspection since the Cold War. Still, the vibe? Immaculate.

There were secret names for booze carved on the walls. The drinks were served in mugs, “for discretion.” You both loved it.

Your server—looked like she’d had enough of life.

“Names?” she asked, pen poised.

You turned to Leon, grinning. “I’m Rocky.”

Without breaking a smile, he said, “Bullwinkle.”

She blinked. Walked away. Didn’t ask questions.

The food arrived. It was vile. Slimy meatballs. Questionably cooked chicken.

You played rock-paper-scissors to decide who ate what. The loser took the meatballs.

When the bill came, so did a fortune cookie.

Leon cracked his open and read it aloud: “You will encounter someone who drives you crazy. Let them.”

You grinned. “That’s obviously me. You need to let me be crazy.”

He rolled his eyes and put the fortune away.

—

The night didn’t end there.

You stumbled into a Christmas market, all twinkling lights and soft music. It was disgustingly festive. You loved it.

Leon disappeared for a second, wandering over to another booth.

In the meantime, a guy leaned casually against the gingerbread stall beside you.

“They’re out of gingerbread? Tragic,” he said.

You glanced at him. “Yeah, someone beat you to it.”

He smiled. “Think they’ll have more at the talent show tomorrow?”

You blinked. “First I’m hearing of a talent show.”

“You should come,” he said. “You’d love it.” Then added, “I can text you the details.”

You gave him your Instagram. No way were you handing out your number.

Leon returned a moment later. He’d seen everything.

“You’re not gonna text him back, right?” he asked, voice too flat.

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you care?”

He didn’t respond. Just stared ahead, jaw a little too tense.

—

It had gotten cold by the time you were walking back.

Without a word, Leon shrugged off his hoodie and threw it over your shoulders.

You blinked. “Leon. It smells like you.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it supposed to?”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t take it off.

At your dorm, he paused at the entrance.

A small nod.

Then he turned and walked away.

You stepped inside, tossed the hoodie into the corner of your room—

But you couldn’t help smiling.

—

The next morning, your phone buzzed.

Leon.

You threw on a hoodie and headed to the café.

Of course, he was there, he’s everywhere.

You got in line behind him.

“Iced Americano, please,” he said.

You snorted. “Woah. Americano. Tough guy.”

He glanced back and pinched your side. “Shut up.”

“Eek!” You swatted at him, squealing.

The barista looked up, smiling. “For your girlfriend?”

He froze. “S-she’s not my girlfriend!!”

You clutched your chest, mock-offended. “Ouch, Leon.”

“Just order,” he grumbled. “I’m paying.”

You raised your brows. “Leon, I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“It’s my treat.”

You smiled. “If you insist, big guy.”

You turned to the barista. “Iced macchiato, please.”

—

You sat in the study room sipping your drinks. You caught Leon making faces at his coffee, like it had personally wronged him.

You couldn’t stop laughing.

He stared at your drink like it was a beacon from heaven.

There was something so... cute about it.

You didn’t know what this feeling was. Not exactly.

But it wasn’t anything.

And after that night?

Working together got... easier.

Less snark. More warmth. The banter still lived, but now it came with soft smiles and quiet glances.

The loneliness that used to stretch across the break?

Gone.

Turns out, the universe still wasn’t done screwing with you.

But maybe this time, it wasn’t a curse.

Maybe it was a gift.

—

The common room was dim, half-lit by a floor lamp that buzzed every now and then. A movie played on low volume, one of those old winter ones no one really watches — just enough noise to keep the silence from sinking too deep.

You weren’t sure why you stayed this long. You told yourself you were just grabbing something from your bag, but your legs wandered here instead.

Leon didn’t seem surprised.

He sat in the corner of the couch, hoodie up, legs stretched out, hands wrapped around a chipped mug.

You took the other end, dragging a blanket off the backrest and curling it over your knees.

Neither of you spoke.

Not awkward silence — just the kind that fills itself.

You took a sip of cocoa. “Everyone else really cleared out, huh?”

Leon gave a soft nod. “Ghost town.”

“Do you usually stay for break?”

He shifted. “Sometimes.”

“Why?”

That question lingered. again.

He shrugged. “Quieter.”

You let it go. For now.

“My family’s loud this time of year,” you said. “Like, aggressively festive. It’s suffocating.”

Leon let out a breath — almost a laugh. “So you escaped?”

“I said I had deadlines. Total lie. Well—half-lie. I do have cocoa to drink.”

He finally looked at you, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “You stayed behind for fake deadlines?”

You raised your mug. “A bold and lonely life choice.”

His smile widened slightly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

A few more minutes passed. The heater hissed. Someone laughed offscreen.

You glanced over. “Your family doesn’t mind you staying?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly, “We don’t really talk much.”

You turned to him. “Oh.”

He sipped his drink slowly, like he wasn’t planning to say anything else.

“I get that,” you said, softer now.

The moment could’ve turned heavy. But he cut through it gently:

“You’re hogging the blanket, by the way.”

You blinked. “You’re like six feet tall. There’s no way I’m winning that battle.”

“Still unfair.”

You kicked your foot toward him under the blanket. “Here. A peace offering.”

He nudged your ankle with his.

A silent truce.

The movie flickered. Neither of you cared what was on.

You started tugging at your sleeve again — out of habit.

“You always do that when you’re nervous,” he said suddenly.

You paused. “Huh?”

He nodded at your hand. “You tug your sleeve. Always your left.”

You blinked. “You notice that?”

He shrugged. “’ Course I do.”

He said it so casually. Like it was just a thing he knew. Like knowing you that well wasn’t strange at all.

Then, a breath later, he shifted beside you.

“I never told you why I don’t visit my parents, did I?”

You turned to him slowly. Shrugged slightly. “quieter, right?”

He looked at the TV, but he wasn’t watching anymore and shook his head.

“They were criminals,” he said, voice rough. “They liked the rush. The thrill. Got too deep, and it caught up to them.”

Your breath hitched. “Leon, I’m so—”

“I hate when people apologize,” he cut in. “Hate the condolences. The pity. That’s why I don’t tell anyone. I don’t want their reaction.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, heart aching.

“I’m not gonna do that,” you said, voice low. “Just so you know.”

He finally looked at you. And for a moment, he looked like he wanted to believe it.

“Good,” he said softly.

Another long, heavy silence. But this one didn’t hurt.

You shifted a little closer under the blanket.

And this time, he didn’t move away.

you didn’t want him to move away.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

∘⧼ ⋆ my spot ˚⧽ ˳

collegestudent!leon kennedy x fem!reader - college au

chapter 3.. WOOHOO my favorite so far.. hope u enjoy it heheheheheeheh

-chapter 3-

You should’ve known the universe wasn’t done screwing with you.

The professor read through names like they were filler audio—just background noise—until yours slipped out. You gave your usual half-muttered reply.

“And Leon Kennedy?” he called.

That voice. That snarky, unmistakable voice answered. Of course.

He’s your partner? Great. Fantastic. Why were you just now finding out his name?

You stood up, ready to bolt out of the lecture hall and pretend this never happened, when you heard him call behind you—

“Yo, Y/N.”

You turned.

“Need your number.”

You blinked. Then laughed in disbelief. “Why? Want to ask me out on a date?”

He frowned like you’d offended him. “No?.. For the project.”

Shit. You're a dumbass. “Oh! Yeah, totally—I was just kidding. It’s ********.”

He walked off without another word. No reaction. No smirk. No nothing. What a bitch.

…He did text you later that day, though.

A few hours later, you were standing in front of his dorm room. You knocked once—and the door opened way too fast. Was he waiting for you?

You decided not to dwell. You had bigger problems to face. Like the group project. With your enemy. (From the past 48 hours—but that’s beside the point.)

You hadn’t realized you were just standing there, zoning out, until he stepped aside and tilted his head.

“You coming in or…?”

You stepped inside, brushing past him.

“You want something to eat?” he asked, scratching his head.

“If it’s another protein bar, I swear to God—”

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, hey! They build character.”

You let out a laugh, unfiltered and sudden. “Yeah, okay, Leon.”

He watched you fidget with your hands, then cleared his throat.

“Sooo… living room? Or—”

“Dining table,” you cut in.

“Right. Okay.” He nodded, shoved his hands into his pockets, and went to gather his things.

An hour passed.

You were still fighting over the meaning of a quote. God. Literature.

“Do you always argue like this?” he asked, glancing up at you.

You shrugged. “Only when I’m right.”

“So, never?”

You rolled your eyes. You could be doing better things right now. Like dissecting this quote. Or literally anything else.

Eventually, you actually started writing the essay. And of course, he had thoughts.

“That’s your thesis? Bold…”

You looked up at him, unamused. “Bold or correct?”

He avoided eye contact. “…Bold.”

Cute. Wait—cute? Did you just think he was—Are you out of your damn mind?

“Heeeyyyo?? Do you even hear me right now?” Leon waved a hand in your face like a maniac.

“Stop! You’re making me dizzy,” you muttered, batting him away. “Let’s just finish this for today.”

These meetups became a daily thing over the week. There were… moments. Like when he changed his shirt in the corner of his room and you caught a glimpse of his happy trail.

…What the fuck is wrong with you?

The next morning, you woke up feeling like death. Leon was the last person you wanted to deal with. But responsibilities existed. Ugh.

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated. Jill. Texting you.

After what felt like a century, your classes were finally done. You walked into your dorm and found Jill, cross-legged on the bathroom sink, doing her makeup.

“You’re gonna fall doing that.”

She looked back. “No, I won’t! …At least, I don’t think I will.” She grimaced and went back to her eyeliner.

“Ada’s coming, by the way..”

You groaned. “Really? Ada? Jill, you know we don’t get along—”

“OH COME ON! Just give her another chance, pleaseee.”

“Fine. Just—stop nagging. I hate it.”

She grinned, smug and victorious.

An hour—or maybe a few—later, you both headed out. The frat house is ten minutes away. Your plan? A few drinks. Beer pong. Leave early.

It was going fine… until you saw that blond head. Shit. He was here?

Lying bastard. (Not like you didn’t lie too… but still.)

He looked good. Too good. Out of the hoodies and headphones, in actual decent lighting… He could model. Why didn’t he model?

“Ooo, he’s cute,” Jill whispered, nudging your arm. “Want me to set you up?”

“Ehem?? That’s the guy I’ve been telling you about!”

Her jaw dropped. “THAT’S—”

“JILL! Shhh!”

She leaned in, lowering her voice. “That’s demon boy??” She took a long look at him. “Damn. I would've enjoyed every mom—”

You pinched her side to shut her up.

“Should I play with this discovery?” she teased.

“Totally,” you grinned. “Text him.”

You did. And he responded with a sigh. Like you were a chore. Again.

Jill peeked at your phone.

“Damn. What a dick.”

“Right? And you’re the one calling him McDreamy.”

She pursed her lips teasing. “Him being a dick doesn’t make him less gorgeous.”

Before you could answer, she dragged you toward the drinks table.

Everything after that? A blur. You might’ve downed like 50 fireballs.

You woke up on a couch. Not Jill’s. Not Ada’s.

The dining table across from you looked… familiar. Shit.

You were at Leon’s.

You fumbled through your purse, grabbed your phone. 19 missed calls from Jill. 8:00 AM. Saturday. Thank God.

You got up quietly, trying to sneak out—until you saw him in the kitchen.

“Hey. You’re not leaving on an empty stomach,” he said. “If something happens to you, I’m screwed.”

You turned around, eyes sharp. “Oh, so this is about you? Why am I even here?”

His expression turned defensive. “I brought you here because you were dead drunk and I didn’t know where you lived!”

You winced, holding your head. “Shit… sorry. I don’t know why I screamed.” You exhaled. “Let’s just forget it.” You moved toward the door.

“I gotta go.”

You heard him start to protest as you shut it behind you.

Thankfully, you lived a few floors above. As you got into your room, you caught your reflection.

Your makeup… gone. He wiped it off? Where did he even get makeup wipes?

Why was he being so nice?

You didn’t have time to think. You needed sleep. The meetup was at six.

Later that evening, you returned to his dorm and knocked. He opened the door, same as always. You sat down, expecting work. But he just… stared.

“What are you looking at?” you asked.

He quickly looked away. “Nothing.”

A pause. Then—

“Did you go out with Ada?”

You groaned. “Seriously, Leon? Now’s not the time.”

“She almost left you there. If Jill hadn’t found me—if I hadn’t come—”

You cut him off. “Thanks for your input, Dad. But I can take care of myself.”

He rolled his eyes and dropped it. The usual rhythm resumed. Barely.

“Are you suuure? That sounds like bullshit to me,” he teased later.

You raised a brow. “Really?”

He backed off immediately. “No… not really.”

You hummed a soft mhmm in response.

He giggled.

Cute.

Wait—no. Weird. Right?

You weren’t sure anymore. Because it wasn’t a chore anymore. It was… kind of fun.

You actually turned down Hangouts for this. (Pssst… he did too.)

You had something to look forward to. Someone.

One day, he casually dropped a Rice Krispies bar in your lap.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged. “You said you were waiting for a better protein bar flavor. This was the sugariest one I could find to match the cup of caramel in front of you.”

You laughed. “Leon. This isn’t protein. It’s cereal.”

He raised a brow. “Potato, potahto.”

God, he was a dumbass. Your dumbass?

…Maybe.

—-

The dim light of the empty study room flickered overhead, casting shadows on the forgotten papers scattered across the table. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence between you and Leon, but it did nothing to cool your rising temper. You stood across from him, arms crossed, pulse thrumming hot beneath your skin—mostly from frustration.

“I’m serious, Leon,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you tried to keep it from shaking. “You don’t just get to hijack the whole project and pretend like we agreed to your idea.”

Leon leaned back against the table, effortlessly calm, that infuriating little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He crossed his arms, like he was settling into the argument instead of trying to end it.

“I didn’t hijack anything. You just don’t like that someone actually had a better plan.”

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. “You are so—God, you’re so infuriating sometimes. I can’t argue with you when I’m this—”

“What?” he cut in smoothly, his eyes catching yours and holding them. “Turned on?”

The words landed between you like a dropped match. For a second, you actually forgot how to breathe. You froze, every nerve in your body buzzing. Heat crawled up your neck, blooming across your face like wildfire. Leon was smirking now—barely—but it was there. Controlled. Knowing. He’d planned that.

“I was going to say angry, you jackass,” you managed to hiss, but the edge in your voice was gone, replaced with something… shaky.

His smirk didn’t fade. “Mm. Same thing, isn’t it?”

Your breath caught again. You hated how your body reacted to the low rasp of his voice, the way the air between you suddenly felt heavier. You hated how close he seemed even from a few feet away. And most of all, you hated the awful, undeniable truth echoing in your head:

He might’ve been right.

Eventually, the silence broke. You packed up your notes with trembling hands, neither of you saying much after that—but the tension hung in the air like static.

When you finally left the study room, he held the door open for you. You stared at him in disbelief, still caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. In classic Leon fashion, he kicked at your ankle as you walked past. You stumbled forward with a hissed “ow,” turning to glare at him.

Of course. You slapped him on the arm in return. He grinned like he’d won something.

You both stepped into the front lobby of the library—just in time to hear the crash of thunder. It was pouring. Sheets of rain hammered against the pavement outside, wind slicing sideways.

“What is with your weather luck and libraries?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Leon said nothing—just pulled an umbrella out of his backpack. You blinked.

“…You checked the weather?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like being soaked on the walk back. Crazy, I know.”

Before you could sass back, he popped the umbrella open and stepped closer, holding it over both of you. His arm brushed yours as you walked side by side under the awning, the wind still managing to sneak in. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You just listened to the rain and let the silence stretch between you, warmer now than it had been in the study room.

When you reached the split in the path, he gave you a lazy half-smile as he stepped back, hand still holding the umbrella out over you.

“Night.”

It wasn’t much. But it made your stomach do that stupid flip again.

You gave a little wave and turned toward your dorm, heart still pounding for some ungodly reason.

Inside, you kicked off your shoes, still thinking about it. You didn’t owe him a thank you, but… maybe a short text wouldn’t kill you. Something casual. Like "thanks for the umbrella lol". Reasonable. Normal.

You typed:

“you’re kinda nice when you’re not being a smug asshole”

Your thumb hovered. Then deleted. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Gone.

You let out a groan and put your phone on the counter.

“HEY! COME ON!!” Jill’s voice rang from the other side of the door. “Stop hogging the bathrooooom!”

You sighed and headed over. But she was waiting just outside the door, one brow raised suspiciously.

“Hey… why are you smiling?” she asked, arms folded. “Was the project that funny?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut. Up.”

Her jaw dropped in theatrical horror. “OH MY GOD. You like him.”

You grabbed the nearest towel and threw it in her face. “I DO NOT.”

She held her hands up in surrender, laughing. “Okay, okay. Just finish up!”

You closed the door and stared at yourself in the mirror for a second.

“…Do I?” you muttered.

The silence that followed didn’t help. Not even a little.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

𓈒 ׄ﹐ ೨ rob’s masterlist ౿ ݂۫ ׄ 𝄞

 

༻leon s. kennedy༺

my spot - unfinished (fluff)

༻joel miller༺

nothing here yet! ;/

༻arthur morgan༺

drabble (angst)

[robidentevil]

₊𝜗my spot𝜚˚

collegestudent!leon kennedy x fem!reader

- fluff and some swearing -

—————————

hope you enjoy this because i couldn’t get any sleep last night so i’ve been up writing this.. i felt super productive so here we are.. word count isn’t that much..! but chapter 3 will be way longer trust… so it might take a few days..

chapter 2

---

Something felt off the moment you stepped inside.

Maybe it was the lighting—colder than usual, tinged with a sickly gray that made everything feel just a little off. Maybe it was the way the air clung to your skin, damp and still, like the whole building was holding its breath. Or maybe, just maybe, it was him.
Already there.
Settled into your seat like he owned it.
Like he knew you’d show.

You didn’t say anything. Just sat across from him and opened your laptop, pretending not to notice how the silence stretched, pulling thinner and thinner by the second.

You didn’t even realize the flurry had started outside. Didn’t catch the flickering lights, the way students began to shuffle out in twos and threes. You were too focused. You had to win this. Get that seat back. Reclaim your pride.
One smug look from him and you were ready to rewrite your entire academic career just to spite him.

And then—

BEEP. BEEP.

Your phone lit up, buzzing like it had something personal against you.

Emergency Weather Alert: BLIZZARD WARNING. CAMPUS LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT.

Perfect.

You looked up slowly. He didn’t even flinch—just kept scrolling, perfectly calm, like this was a normal Tuesday.

You were halfway to the door when you realized it wouldn’t budge. You tugged again. Nothing. You turned to the librarian at the front desk, who didn’t seem remotely phased.

“Sorry, dear,” she said, far too chipper, flipping a laminated sign with practiced ease.
LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT: DOORS SEALED UNTIL MORNING.

You blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Outside, the snow was already halfway up the door. You turned around like maybe, just maybe, the universe would show you some mercy.

Nope. There he was. Still in your seat. Still smirking.

You dragged yourself back to your chair—your former chair—facing him like you were about to start a duel.

This time, he looked up. Clocked your expression. And smiled.

“Something wrong?”

Oh, fantastic.

You tried to stay composed, but your mouth decided otherwise.

“Could you get any more fucking annoying?”

His smile widened. The bastard looked delighted. You blinked at him. Was this his thing? Did he enjoy being screamed at? what a sicko.

You pulled out your phone and tried calling Jill.
No signal. Of course.

“No signal. Cool. Love that for me.”

“You’ll survive,” he said without looking up.

You glared. “You sure about that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “...Not really.”

You both lapsed into silence. An hour ticked by. The air was stuffy. Your stomach growled so loud it felt like betrayal.

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a protein bar.

You eyed it. “Seriously? That’s all you brought?”

He shrugged. “What, you want half?”

You stared at the wrapper. For a second, you considered it. Then decided to stand your ground .
“I’d rather eat the table.”

“Your loss.”

He took a bite, then closed his laptop and leaned back like he owned the room. Again.

“You always this talkative?”

“Only when I’m trying not to commit a felony.”

He tilted his head, mildly impressed. “Romantic.”

You kicked his shin under the table. “Shut up.”

“Hey—don’t attack me. I’m delicate.”

You snorted. You actually snorted.

And he grinned like he’d won something.

Another hour passed. The wind outside slapped against the windows like it had a personal grudge. You sat, curled into your hoodie, half-asleep, half-annoyed.

“You sure this place won’t collapse?” you asked.

He didn’t look up. “If it does, at least I’ll die in your seat. Full circle.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache.

But then, just as the quiet was starting to settle, he spoke again.

“You know, you could just admit it.”

You blinked at him. “Admit what?”

“That you like sitting across from me.”

You stared, deadpan. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

He smirked. “So which one am I?”

You studied him. “Aren’t you a curious thing.”

He leaned forward, squinting at your notebook. “Is that a word or a summoning circle?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Guess I’ve been summoning you by accident.”

He looked far too pleased with himself, leaning back like he owned the air in the room now, too.

Eventually, he finished his granola bar and crumpled it like he was putting on a whole show.

“Nice of you to offer me one,” you muttered.

“I thought you were gonna eat the table.”

“Maybe I was waiting for a better flavor.”

He shrugged. “Then maybe you should’ve brought your own.”

You hated that he was kind of right. And worse, kind of smug about it.

Then, mercifully, the intercom crackled to life.

“The campus lockdown has now been lifted. Students may exit the building at this time. Please proceed with caution.”

You nearly sobbed. Your bag suddenly felt twenty pounds lighter.

The door that had been frozen shut was now cracked open, the hallway beyond blanketed in eerie, muffled white. Cold air rushed in and hit your face like a slap.
You stepped out, boots crunching against the fresh snow, breathing in freedom for the first time in hours.

You made it to your dorm in silence. Dropped everything. Collapsed into bed. Didn’t even bother to change.
You weren’t sure if you’d hallucinated half of that or if you were just losing it.

But the next morning made one thing very clear:
The universe wasn’t done with you yet.

You shuffled into your lecture hall, brain half-asleep, coffee untouched. You scanned for a seat—

And froze.

There he was. Hoodie up. Headphones in. Backpack flopped lazily beside him.
Three rows down. Same exact posture.
Like the blizzard never happened. Like he was summoned.

You sat a few rows back. No way were you giving him the satisfaction.

But he turned around.
Like he knew.
Like he felt you.

And of course—he smirked.
And winked.

You blinked. Did… did he just wink?

You looked away fast, but not fast enough to stop your stomach from fluttering.

why was it even fluttering?!

What was he, a curse? Some kind of walking karmic punishment?

Had you wronged him in a past life?

If so, you were pretty sure he deserved it.

previous chapter - next chapter

[robidentevil]

˗ˏˋmy spot ˎˊ˗

collegestudent!leon kennedy x fem!reader

college au

-fluff and a bit of swearing-

this is so short! but i wanted to see how well the intro to my new au would do. this is the firstish chapter but more of a intro to the au! hope u like this small intro/drabble!

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t want to.
All you knew was that he was in your seat.
Your spot — far window, perfect light, great outlet access, exactly one table away from the loud-breathing psychology majors. You’d been sitting there for weeks. It was yours.
And yet… there he was.
Hood up. Headphones in. Backpack slouched like it belonged there.
You cleared your throat. Loud. Nothing.
Then you dropped your books. Louder.
Still nothing.
He didn’t even look up.
So naturally, you sat down directly across from him and glared at his stupid hair for the next two hours.

“Something on my face?” The sound made you jolt from your laptop.
“What? No.”
“Then why have you been glaring at me for the past...” He stopped to look at his phone. “Two hours.”
You crossed your arms, ready for business. “I don’t know. Why are you in my spot?”
He snickered. “Why? Got your name on it, princess?”
You rolled your eyes and figured he’d sit somewhere else tomorrow. When the library was about to close, you got up and left.

You walked in the next day. The seat was taken. Again.
Same guy. Same hoodie. Same infuriatingly pretty face half-buried in his hand as he scrolled through something on his laptop. You stood behind him like a ghost, waiting — hoping — he’d look up. He didn’t.
Okay. Cool. Fine. You totally didn’t come all the way across campus in the rain to find this idiot in your sunlit corner.
You dropped your bag a little too hard on the table across from him, and for the first time, he looked up — just barely. His eyes were tired. Blue. Sharp. And unfairly pretty.
“Morning,” he muttered, voice hoarse like he hadn’t spoken to a human in hours, but still had a sly smirk like he had won.
Your brain stalled. Your mouth didn’t.
“Do you live here or something?”
A pause. Then he smirked.
“Do you?”
You raised your eyebrows at the rapid response. “Oh, okay. Fine. It’s on.”
He held back his smirk, looking at his laptop once more, but all you could think was war. You needed that spot back—not because it benefitted you, but because this fed your inner competitor. You had a mission now: get here before he did. Yet you always failed.

“Early bird gets the seat!” he’d say, smiling as he shrugged while all you could do was glare at him and sit across from him. Then you heard it. Tap. Tap tap. Was he... tapping his fucking pen? Could he get any more annoying? This went on for a whole hour until you snapped. You had enough stress — your shitfaced professors, midterms coming up, projects, projects, projects. Now him, your fucking spot, and his pen tapping.
“Will you stop?!” you shot at him, a bit too loud. You turned heads... oops!
“The hell’s your problem?!” he shot back, clearly confused.
“Your pen tapping! My... SPOT! It’s like all you wanna do is annoy me!”
He chuckled slightly as he held eye contact.
“Not my problem you can’t wake up earlier.” He snapped, teasingly pouting too.
Oh, this guy’s a fucking dick.

All you could do was text Jill. She’d know what to do. Right?

you: there’s a demon man in my fucking spot
jill: what??? who
you: don’t know. will kill him tomorrow
jill: okay why are we plotting murder at 11am

This unknown guy had no idea what was in store for him.

Next chapter ➛ (here!)

[robidentevil]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁welcome to robs library༢ུ⠀

⟢ my name is rosalie, but most people call me rob.

𓊆im 20 yrs old, and a esfp 𓊇

𝜗𝜚 rob write’s for…

ཐི leon s. kennedy

ཐི joel miller

ཐི arthur morgan

+ most video game/ tv show men (18+ only.)

✁ 𓈒 ׄmy masterlist! 𓈒 ݂۫ ׄ　

ᓭི༏ DISCLAIMERS

i don’t write for women! (im just not any good at it..)

࿐ i dont write anything kinky, incest, extreme agegaps, or mythical beings!

⪩ english is not my first language! ⪨

ᶻ 𝘇 library closed…