Mel :3

RE2R

• Can make a weirdly accurate cat chirping noise and will have full conversations with the local stray cats using this power.

• Also uses it to wind up his roommates dog because he thinks its funny.

• constantly has bruised hip bones from walking into literally everything whenever he tries to go anywhere in his apartment without the lights on.

• Everyone hcs him as a bad cook but I can see him being able to do very basic meals so that he’s able to get all the nutrients and stuff that he needs for training.

• quiet walker, constantly scares the living daylights out of his roommate. Uses it to prank said roommate when he hears them stealing food in the kitchen at 3 am.

• has infact peed in a sink before just because his friends were. Still feels guilty about it. He was like 14 when it happened.

• Slightly pudgy where he’s still growing into his muscle, has a weird habit of tracing the stretch marks on his lower abdomen when laid on the couch watching a movie

• Once had a girl compliment his nail beds in a café and he walked into the door on the way out. Now refuses to even walk past the cafe due to embarrassment.

• when he’s getting off or having sex and going multiple rounds/experiencing multiple orgasms, he has a really bad habit of letting his tongue go limp after the first round and he ends up drooling literally everywhere while whining and moaning like a slut.

• *accidentally coughed, sneezed and vomited at the same time once, he ended up sitting on the floor near the toilet he just vomited in for 20 minutes afterwards trying to recover from the sensation.

RE4R

• once accidentally bashed his head so hard it broke his comms headset mid mission because he sneezed and head-butt a box. Had to do like 3 weeks of training to control how he sneezes, now sneezes almost silently and its really weird looking because he sort of just twitches and sighs quietly.

• sleeps with a weighted blanket and a weighted stuffed animal to help him relax. Also has sleep onset insomnia caused by ptsd so is on a prescribed dose of melatonin. Snores but like the silly murmur snore not the snort one.

• Bleached his hair because it was patchy in colour from sun exposure and it annoyed him.

• really bad at eye contact with people, Hunnigan tells him off for it constantly.

• feels bad every time he does something stupid over comms and Hunnigan has to deal with it, buys her a coffee whenever he’s back to apologise.

• quiet on missions is usually indicative of something bad on the way, so has multiple white noise makers around his place to help him chill out some.

• managed to fall asleep on his back with his knees to his shoulders and head dangling off of the break room couch once after a bad mission and confused literally everyone as to how the hell he managed that. No one woke him though.

• forgets to do basic human things like eat drink and pee when locked in on a task so has to set alarms on his phone to remind him.

• still meows at local strays but now its to call them over for feeding time. Has accidentally adopted a full colony of cats, each one has a name.

• gave himself bleach burn on the lower stomach the first time he bleached his hair because he wanted his happy trail to match, refuses to ever do such a thing again.

• incredibly insecure about his scars because they’re mostly keloid scars and he thinks they’re really ugly. They’re not, he needs someone to kiss them and him all over and tell him he’s the prettiest boy ever.

• stretch marks all up his arms and around his shoulders/upper back from how quickly he bulked up between re2r and re4r. Genuinely does not care about them, he still has slight stretch marks on his lower stomach too from back when he was still a pudgy little rookie and despite being 6 years older and significantly more traumatised he still traces those stretch marks when laid on the couch watching a movie.

• Like I said in the previous post, I hc that Leon got diagnosed with hyperspermia around this time, and when he got the letter explaining the condition he was so incredibly embarrassed about it for no reason. Actually called in sick for a few days so he wouldn’t have to see anyone and had mentally convinced himself Hunnigan would think he was a pervert when she looked on his file. It got to the point Hunnigan actually had to sit him down and tell him the hyperspermia means literally nothing to her or anyone else. She convinced him after giving him a chocolate donut from her box in the office.

RE6/Vendetta

• has put on a bit of weight and lost some muscle because of his alcoholism, refuses to take of his shirt during intimate moments. Cute purple stretch marks have blossomed around his hips and he hates them, first time in his whole life he’s been insecure about something as minor as stretch marks.

• Has a collection of limited edition whiskey bottles that he’s never touched. Saving them for when he’s sober enough to drink them without worrying about relapsing. They all have notes hidden under them of who he wants to drink them with when he’s sober, Claire knows about this because she found out by accident after finding Leon shit faced in a bar and him trying to grab the bottle with her name while drunk. Leon doesn’t remember this and Claire refuses to tell anyone.

• keeps in contact with the families of people that died on missions with him, ends up having a whole fiasco around thanksgiving because he’s been invited to like 30 different dinners and can’t attend them all.

• has a picture of Chris wearing a dress printed in his wallet, no one knows where its from or why he keeps it.

• post vendetta while recovering he started to develop an oral fixation, Hunnigan bought him one of those chew pens because he kept breaking his pens while writing his reports. Still breaks his pen mid report and then switches to the chew pen, Hunnigan has given up on trying to explain that he’s supposed to just chew on the chew pen, not chew on his normal pens until they break and then switch. She just sighs every time she gets a report with an ink splotch from a pen killed by Leon’s incessant gnawing.

• got referred for hearing aids after china because all of the explosions seriously damaged his ears and hearing, however he doesn’t actually bother to go to said referral until post vendetta when he’s sober. Chris laughed at him for 20 minutes calling him old for needing them. He got his referral in the mail that week, refused to look Leon in the eye for a while after that.

• still sleeps with the weighted blankets but now has multiple weighted stuffed animals that sleep with him. He forgot to put them away before a quick hook up one time and spent 10 minutes sulking about embarrassing himself only for his fling to show him their collection of stuffed animals.

RE9

• rich cat man, every cat in his colony has a micro chip that activates the cat door and lets them into the house. That way he can lock up but still let the cats free roaming.

• has woke up with at least 15 cats on him before. He runs hot so they like to steal his warmth.

• before elpis he had a really bad problem with the cats obsessively trying to lick his infection site, he had to lock his bedroom door because they would NOT leave it alone.

• post elpis he can start to sleep with the door open again and the cats now constantly lick the scars left from the infection, he’s given up on trying to stop them he just kind of accepts it now.

• has finally started to drink the bottles of limited edition whiskey he was keeping, he and Chris have already cleared a few bottles to themselves without much issue.

• has a slight pudge in his stomach from weight that refused to budge after he gained it as an alcoholic, he was insecure about it for a little while but if you suck him off and caress the little pudge all of a sudden its his favourite part of himself.

• will make the worlds dumbest joke to himself at 2am while raiding the kitchen and lose his mind giggling at it for the next 20 minutes.

• Because of how much bulkier he is he has a huge appetite, he’ll eat enough food for a family of four easily. Post elpis he gets a fair bit of energy back and is really revitalised, he’ll start to eat even more, to the point he gets a little pudgier. Don’t get too attached though, as soon as he notices he’ll work it off fast, an unfortunate loss to the Leon dad bod lover community.

• Oral fixation still going strong, sherry taught him about adult chew toys designed for rough use and he owns multiple, he started using them around age 40 (I like to imagine after death island he reached out to sherry and got fully back in contact) after multiple near relapses into alcoholism. He found that chewing on stuff helps with the cravings and after a while gum stopped cutting it.

• has the worlds most beat up 1986 Toyota Camry that he refuses to let die.

• cannot sneeze just once, he will sneeze like 6 times in a row and have to take a second to regain his composure afterwards.

arms sprawled, a leg off the couch, and his mouth slightly open and breathing heavily. he looked so… cute.

so you walked up to him, took a picture of his snoring face, before placing your phone face down on the coffee table. you placed your knees just on the side of his thighs, the cushions dipping under pressure, essentially straddling him.

hot, but you didn’t know if leon was into somno. that would be for another time.

you placed your whole weight on top of him and tucked an arm under him. a little 'oof' could be heard when you plopped.

"[name]…? jesus you scared me…" he groaned sleepily. his arms instinctively wrapped around you, keeping you warm and close. "don’t worry about it… tired, sweet boy?" you whispered close to his ear, he could feel the warmth of your breath hitting his neck, and his hitched a little. "yeah… work’s been getting hectic. people are crazy during rush hour." he mumbled.

leon was so adorable, you were actually getting cuteness aggression. "sucks. hope you’re okay." you told him and kissed his cheek. he laughed softly. "thanks. it really helps knowing that you’re here with me."

you continued to lay in silence. leon fell back asleep fast, but he was leaning closer to you each time, searching for your comfort like a blind puppy.

puppy.

yeah, that was exactly him. he could deny it as many times as he wanted, he was still a puppy. no wonder you got cuteness aggression.

you ended up softly biting his cheek. leon woke up again at the sudden stretch of his cheek.

"oww, what was that for…?" he grumbled, brows furrowed and confused, but you just smiled. "you’re so cute, leon. you don’t understand." you reasoned.

poor baby, you were making it feel like he was in a fever dream. the only thing in his head was "why did you bite me?"

though in the end, leon always let you have it your way. "m’kay…" he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in and placing his hand under your shirt while the other stayed on the back of your head.

you ended up biting his neck too. it left a hickey, but you didn’t tell him.

07.12.26 , 23:44

taglist : @aerisellesuchi , @animegamerfox , @girlwithadragonheart , @princesssugarplumm

this year, it starts extremely early. it’s only 7am when he wakes up, and you’re in front of him, holding a cake that from his point of view, looks like a normal cake. his eyes open and find yours, staring into his soul like you wanted to reach out and eat it.

“babe…?” he murmurs gravelly, rubbing one eye. your expression doesn’t shift, remaining uncannily firm and serious. “what’s going on?”

“it appears that today fifty years ago, you crawled your way out of your mother’s vagina. many humans celebrate this yearly occurrence,” stop. too many words for his still half asleep brain.

“what?” that’s literally all he can say, slowly sitting up, drowsy as hell and still seeing blurry from sleep. “what the hell did you just say?”

you step forward and extend the cake to hold it right into his face, though remaining careful to not let the flames on the candles touch his hair. it was a pretty cake from the side. was. because now that he can see the top, he can see a picture of your face stretched out comically, with a cursive text that read “blow me.”

leon can only sigh deeply, already exhausted and wanting to go back to sleep, and look up at you. “you know, people usually wait for the evening or at least after lunch before bringing the cake-“

“hush, white boy. blow me,” you firmly say. only now he notices that your accent has a thick british cadence to it.

leon’s mouth opens, then closes. he knows better than to question your antics and the names you call him. so he takes a deep breath in and then lets it out, blowing the candles. you look at him with a pleased expression, and put the candle away. “good job, white boy.”

leon rubs his face, fighting so hard to keep the smile off his face, because deep down he still loves you. even if you’re making him grow gray hair when he’s only fifty years old. “thank you, baby,” he sighs, and because he loves you so much, he leans forward and pecks your forehead. “what are the plans for the day?”

your expression softens slightly at his display of affection, but you know you can’t ruin this. so you stick to your weird and unnecessary firm behavior and pull out a fucking clipboard out of fucking nowhere.

“i made a schedule,” you announce.

“that’s great,” he comments. “read it to me.”

you flip the initial page and pick out a pen, crossing off the ‘blow candles’ that was written on top of it. then you tap thoughtfully on the second task.

“since you blew the candles, now i am going to blow you.”

“pause.” leon is horrified by how taken aback he is– he certainly wasn’t expecting that. “let’s- let’s just leave that for tonight, yeah?”

“we must stick to the schedule,” you press firmly.

“let’s ignore the schedule, alright baby? let’s just- uh, make this… normal,” he tentatively say.

you raise an eyebrow and out down the clipboard, eyeing him out suspiciously. “so your thoughts about me is that i’m not normal?”

leon sighs, rubbing his face again. “you’re… you’re perfect the way you are. but please, i only woke up and-“

“that’s right, white boy. say ‘please’ and keep begging for normalcy, white boy.”

“can you stop calling me white boy?”

“do you wish me to call you differently?” you ask. he just sits still, and in the back of his mind he knows that if you don’t call him that, something much worse could come out of your mouth.

“…whatever. call me whatever you please, sweetheart.”

“that sounds about right, white boy.”

he leans back against the headboard of the bed, crossing his arms and staring at you. you stare at him back. he raises an eyebrow. “so? what’s the rest of the schedule?”

“i will not continue until you let me blow you.”

“you are not going to suck my dick at 7am, baby.”

“release the kennedih to me, white boy. that’s an order.”

“shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep, and don’t wake me up until 10am,” he grunts, too tired for your antics, and slips back under the covers. “that’s an order.”

you wait for him to settle in, think that he’s finally safe under those blankets like you were the monster in the closet, and then slowly lay down behind him. your arm encircle his waist, and your lips find his ear.

“i’m gonna blow you, white b-“

“y/n.”

You have always been a beautiful woman. Intelligent, brave, strong. A hell of a soldier from what he can remember. So, it doesn’t surprise him that Leon can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. But to Chris, there’s something borderline abusive about keeping a woman knocked up all the time. 

“Hey there.” He says with a weak smile, in turn giving you a kiss on the cheek once you pull away. “Good to see you.”

“Come on in.” 

With a wave, you step further into the house, kicking toy trucks and crooked-limbed dolls from your path. “Don’t mind the mess,” you call out from over your shoulder, padding down the hallway as you lead him to the living room. “I swear we cleaned before you came, but these days, it feels like no matter what we do, there’s gonna be a toy to trip on somewhere.” 

He chuckles, nearly tripping over one himself. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Leon,” you sing as you round the corner into the kitchen. “Look who’s here.” 

Leon’s sitting on a chair, cradling a sleeping toddler in his arms. The baby can’t be more than two years old. Chris does the mental math. Seriously abusive. 

“Hey man,” he says at Chris, attempting to wave with the hand that’s cradling the baby’s back. “Let me go put her to bed and we can get this party started.” 

There’s a family portrait above the fireplace. One plus two plus two more plus one plus one plus one on the way…

You and Leon do realize that you don’t have to supply working hands for the farm anymore, right? This isn’t the nineteenth century where people had kids because they couldn’t afford workers and seeds had to be sown. Chris shakes those thoughts out of his head, or maybe they’re thrown out by the two children that latch themselves onto his lower legs like monkeys on a branch. 

“Woah, hey there.” 

“Boys,” you call out with a clap, pointing to the stairs. “I’ve fed you, I’ve washed you. You can get yourselves to bed. Hop to it.” 

The boys stumble over their own feet to trek up the stairs. 

He turns to you. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you say, giving him the directions to the upstairs bathroom, the one connected to your room because it has the highest chances of being clean compared to the ones the children use. Apparently one of the girls is a real Picasso and took to scribbling on the bathroom wall with “washable” markers.

Chris steps into the bedroom, and a wide dresser opposite the bed catches his eye. It’s adored with a drape of picture frames, the entire surface crowded by a purposeful arrangement of memories. 

One of them depicts you and Leon on your wedding day. A black and white still of the two of you sitting at the head table, clinking champagne flutes and smiling with all teeth. 

Then, an image of you holding your first child. A couple photos of extended family. Grandparents. Cousins. Your college friends. School photos of your children, all dressed and groomed to the nines. 

And, in the corner of another wedding photo, tucked in the gilded frame is a polaroid, the edges darkened around a glowing figure. Chris can’t help the way his jaw falls slack and he peels the sticky photo from the frame’s glass pane, taking it in his fingers to inspect closer. 

It’s you, reclined on your front, ass in the air, back arched to show off the elegant length of your spine. You’re clothed in a strappy black set–something entirely wicked in the way you grin at the camera. Low lidded bedroom eyes that belong on the cover of a magazine. 

“Like what you see?” Leon’s standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, unable to ignore the strange sensation of pride blooming across his chest.