Hello, my name is Star! I go by that name because I prefer not to use my actual name. I enjoy playing video games, drawing, music and movies. This blog is just a way for me to share my creative writing for fun.
My current obsessions are Resident Evil, Call of Duty, The Maze Runner and Love and Deepspace.
I love writing about Leon Kennedy, John Price and Ghost the most hehehe
If you have any suggestions in mind please make sure they meet my guidelines.
Must be SFW like fluff or angst
Characters from COD, Resident Evil or The Maze Runner since those are the only characters I am most familiar with
No weird prompts
AUs are okay just make sure they aren't inappropriate
That's all that I ask for and what I am comfortable writing. Also do keep in mind that I only write oneshots because I am not sure if I can keep a series going. I will occasionally write oneshots that might have two or three parts but that's all I can do for now.
Also, English is not my first language and I have difficulty with grammar. Sorry in advance! 😓
Reblogs and sharing are also very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy!
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Ghost with demons!
TF 141 with dogs🐶
It's been a while painting full rendered pieces, enjoyed a lot!
Inspired from awesome @yourfaithfulauthor's request.
“Say dada,” Leon says, before filling up the baby’s face with kisses. It’s the sweetest sight, truly, especially since your baby girl bursts into laughter.
“You know she can barely hold her head up, right? She won’t fulfill your wishes,” you answer, smiling as you watch Leon play with your three-month-old. Your husband, who complains that his daughter is growing too fast, is desperate for her to say her first words.
“She’s a smart girl, isn’t she?” he asks before blowing a raspberry on her tummy, earning a giggle from his little girl. Leon can’t help himself before pinching her chubby cheeks. “She’ll be speaking in no time.”
“Say dada, sweetheart. Dada.” He drags out the word, hoping that it’ll incite her to speak. As if the refined motor skill just needs some motivation from dad for it to get going. You let out a low laugh before deciding that you’ll let your husband be.
You never pictured Leon as this type of father. While he made it clear that he was overjoyed, you didn’t expect him to be so loving with the baby. It’s only natural though. And you can say that you’re overjoyed as you discover this new side of Leon. A side only you and your daughter get to see.
“Look she’s about to–” Leon’s eyes widen as she opens her mouth. He’s filled with false hope until he remembers that she loves to put her hands in her mouth. He sighs before he lets out a chuckle. He kisses her cheeks before saying, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Honey, she won’t speak any time soon,” you remind him and he shakes his head.
“Don’t listen to mama, love. She doesn’t know just how smart you are,” he says, eyes engrossed with the baby. He looks at her adoringly up until she sneezes– And even then he’s completely enamored. She has the absolutely cutest sneezes.
It’s late and he’s in the kitchen. Back to you, fridge doors open before him, the cool light making the shadows of the dark room much more dramatic.
Perfect.
You creep behind him, careful, so careful, to avoid even the slightest crunch or stick of your foot to tile.
He’s still browsing, still completely unaware. You see the chance and you take it, jumping behind him and using both hands to grip his sides with a playful yell.
Not even a flinch. All he does is glance at you over a shoulder, smirking. “You breathe so loud.”
He closes the fridge, snack in hand, and leaves you in the dark, defeated.
—
He’s in the shower. You know he’ll see your shadowed outline through the curtain if he’s looking. So, you wait.
You hear the squirt of shampoo, the foaming lather as he runs it through his hair. You’re in, moving quickly, ripping the curtain back with a scream.
Arms still up, fingers in his hair, he just looks at you, brow arched, grossly unimpressed.
Your sigh is heavy, eyes rolling. “Oh come on. How?”
He hums and flicks soap at you. “Better luck next time.”
—
He’s out grabbing ingredients for dinner. You’ve got it down this time.
You hear the front door click open from the depths of the coat closet, shuffling as he kicks off his boots, the crinkle of the paper bags full of groceries as he sets them down. The smooth leather of his jacket protests as he slips it off.
You tense, ready, waiting.
The closet door creaks, then you’re the one screeching as he grabs you, lifting you easily into his arms. He digs his fingers into your ribs and you’re squirming, laughing, already breathless as he targets the spots he knows you can’t bear a single touch without crumbling.
You swat him off, begging, and he lets up. His hands unite under your ass to hold you up as you straddle him, arms around his neck.
“Thought I had you that time.”
A sly smile and he’s giving one of your firm cheeks a pinch. “I felt so bad, I almost let you have that one.”
You’re both laughing again as he carries you toward the bedroom, groceries abandoned in the entryway.
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Ghost is not what the captain would call a gentle man. Everything about him carries weight. His presence, his stare, his skills, his callsign, his reputation. But most of all, his voice. Price has heard Ghost in all sorts of situations, from enemy interrogations to dropping some of the most driest sarcasm to ever grace his comms.
Ghost's voice, like the rest of him, is rough. Like the sound comes from mortar-blasted boulders grinding against each other in his chest and not vocal chords. When Ghost speaks, everything sounds like an ultimatum.
But that's what happens in the military. Show him a man surrounded by other soldiers that doesn't develop some obnoxiously loud, deep vocal affect and Price will eat his hat.
Which is why, when you, the new medic transfer on base, are tasked with administering this year's flu jabs he notices it almost immediately.
"Sleeve up, please, Lieutenant," you tell him. Ghost is sat in the little plastic chair in front of you with his arm fully exposed before you finish.
"Busy day, yeah?" Price nearly chokes when Ghost asks you that.
It wasn't just the fact that he was making conversation, but it was the sound of him. If Price wasn't looking directly at him when he said it, he would have thought there was someone hidden behind his Lt.
But no. It was him, speaking without prompt to you in a tone of voice that Price didn't even think the man was physically capable of.
The boulders in his chest are silent. His voice having moved from them up to some higher register. Like the years of chain smoking and yelling over weapons fire is an inconvenience for once. Ghost even clears his throat when you turn away from him for a moment. Subdued. Soft.
Ghost. Soft. Hell has frozen over.
"It always is," you reply oblivious to the anomaly in front of you, a little smile on your face as you swipe Ghost's bicep with a little disinfectant wipe.
Price watches how Ghost never takes his eyes off of you as you do your work with the same fascination as watching a dog wearing pants walk on its hind legs.
It quickly becomes apparent that this is not an isolated case.
One morning some time later has Ghost walking with him to his office going over upcoming itineraries. Both of them have their minds on the looming, still unconfirmed, deployment. When you turn the corner into the hallway with a stack of files in your hand, Price swears he sees the lights brighten a little bit just from how Ghost perks up.
"Mornin', ma'am." And all of the sudden his hardened veteran, skull mask wearing, second in command is gone and replaced by two meters of tender puppy-dog eyes and velvety voice. He's pretty sure if Ghost had a tail it'd be wagging.
"Good morning, Lieutenant. How many times do I have to tell you you don't have to call me that?"
"At least one more," Ghost all but purrs.
Price feels like he's witnessing something that should be behind an age verification.
You roll your eyes and pat his shoulder as you pass, disappearing down the hallway without a glance behind you. If you did, you would've seen how Ghost's head turned to watch you go.
The other time occurred when you weren't even around to hear it.
It was classified as a training incident only because of its proximity to the grounds. Very little surprises Price anymore, so he didn't bat an eye when he saw a soldier drive up in a humvee, get out, and then just dumbly watch the vehicle creep backwards, gaining speed until it crashed into a nearby prefab.
The car was fine, of course, but those inside the prefab when it made contact weren't so lucky, especially anyone in the falling radius of the shelves and full crates held inside. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one got flattened.
The soldier responsible was getting torn a new one while someone else called for medical support, just to make sure no one was dying or anything. The worst Price could see from here was some bumps and bruises, someone holding a hand to their bleeding head.
"What is it now?" Price asked as he stepped up beside Ghost who lingered from a distance.
"Bloody idiot kept it in neutral, not park," Ghost tells him, arms crossed. "Didn't use the—" The moment you pop into view, medic bag in tow, Ghost's voice shifts like a switch had been flipped and all of the sudden that rolling thunder tone is gone like it was never there to begin with, "—parking brake. Hopefully it won't be a mistake made twice."
Price registers the words in his subconscious, but most of his attention is still on the fact that you had Ghost switching up mid sentence. And you weren't even within earshot. Just the fact that you were in his eyesight had Ghost lowering his voice, lightening his pitch.
He watches you flit around, grabbing the bleeding person and setting them down to start cleaning them up. All of his attention on you. Price is pretty sure that an ant wouldn't be able to crawl within 50 feet of you without Ghost knowing.
Part of Price wants to nip this in the bud, take Ghost aside and tell him to drop it. All of them know what being in this task force means. Having a distraction like this has a higher chance of being a hindrance than a benefit. If there ever comes a time where any of the 141 are in a situation where his sacrifice is non-negotiable, there cannot be hesitation. All of them know this.
But when the captain looks over at Ghost, he doesn't think about sacrifice. He doesn't see a muzzled war dog whose leash is held in Price's firm grip.
For the first time in a long time, Price recalls a young man with dark brown eyes that had seen too much too young, hair so blond it’s almost white, and the strongest sense of loyalty he's ever seen in a fellow soldier.
Price would never describe Ghost as a gentle man. Never a sweet man. But he starts to think that maybe Simon is.
more Leon Kennedy headcanons because RE9 has me on a chokehold!!!
♡ Leon definitely fidgets with his wedding ring, and even kisses it. He just likes the feeling of the cold, metal band against his fingertips. It grounds him, reminding him that he has you to come back home to.
♡ Loves to be close to you in some sort of way. When you two are out, he’ll either hold your hand or have a hand on your back. If you two are at home watching a movie, he’ll have you on his lap while he rubs soothing circles on your thigh. Even in his sleep he’ll reach out just to pull you closer.
♡ Calls you random pet names even though it’s cheesy. You roll your eyes whenever he calls you “pumpkin” or “sugar”. It’s cringe, but you can’t deny that it makes you blush a little.
♡ If you two are going on a fancy date, he will purposefully leave his tie crooked and ask you to fix it for him. He’s perfectly capable of doing it on his own, he just wants to admire you up close for a little longer. And he always asks for a kiss afterwards!!
established relationship, leon pov, soft, fluffy, kissing, pick your favorite leon for this one
a/n: first time giving this man a try. very inspired by the comments about leon's marriage serving as a place for him to go home and rest. let me know what you think!
--
He planned to be gone for 48 hours at most.
But, as usual, 48 turned to 72 turned to an entire week.
Not exactly Leon's idea of a good time. Yours either, obviously, but that's just how it goes sometimes. You know better by now than to expect the dark, dangerous corners of the world to adhere to anyone's plans.
Leon will come home when he can. But he always comes home. It's his most serious promise to you, to himself. He will give everything he's got to the cause, to the mission, but you've given something to come back for. Both of you know that someday it might not be enough -- his words, his sheer will and desire to see you again, to cross the threshold and rest.
But this time it is.
And so, a full week after he kissed you goodbye, he finds himself home again. It's not the middle of the night, but it's close enough, the city draped in a hushed canopy of stillness. He quietly unlocks the door and slides into the darkness.
Or, what he expects to be darkness. Instead, he hears the hum of the TV down the hall and sees the soft glow of the living room lamp. A quick glance at his wrist confirms that it's too late for you to be anywhere but bed, so he calls your name softly.
No reply.
Leon hangs his jacket and leaves his bag at the door, taking off his boots with practiced ease before venturing towards the noise. Hunnigan tends to send word when he's officially on his way back, and he was able to clean up and change on the plane, but he never really feels like it's over until he lays eyes on you.
What he finds at the end of the hall settles his heart in his chest for the first time since he left. His missions are difficult and scary, impossible and necessary. He plans and he prepares and he fights and he wins, but the cost is inexplicable. The fear, the adrenaline, the toll.
It all washes away when he comes home to you. When he sees you as you are now, cheek smushed into the pillow on the couch, an infomercial lighting up the planes of your face. A blanket is halfheartedly tucked around you.
Did you sleep like this every night this week? he wonders. It might break his heart, if so, but he understands. Any bed is near impossible to get used to without you next to him.
But god, you're beautiful. His hands itch to touch you, to press his fingertips into your soft skin, to drag his lips along the column of your throat up to your lips, to hold himself against you as if he could crack open his ribcage and pull you inside, to be so close that you'd never be separated again.
He settles for sitting on the edge of the couch, his hip against you while he looks down at your face. Leon allows himself to hold you, one palm that was doing such damage a few hours ago curling around your waist through the blanket. Your chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. Maybe you're dreaming of something good.
"Sweetheart," he says, softly, voice a little rough to his own ears. "I'm home."
Your lips curl into a small smile but you don't wake. In fact, you simply turn into him, making room for him like you were waiting. Which, he supposes, you were.
Leon says your name once, twice, three times, punctuating each one with a soft swipe of his thumb along your brow, your cheekbone, your jawline.
Your breathing changes and your eyes finally flutter and your hands reach for him, landing on his bicep and his knee. Were you dreaming of him?
"Leon," you say, not fully awake yet. "Baby."
His cheeks heat. Unbelievable, what you do to him. How you make him feel. He had blood in his hair this morning and now you're making him blush.
"Wake up, honey," he whispers, thumb pressing to the corner of your mouth. If you were already in bed, he'd let you sleep, but this is no place for you. You should be comfortable and tucked next to him. He wants to be in bed with you, to lie down and sleep well for the first time in a week. You remind him often that he can ask for things, that he can have them. He deserves to rest.
It takes a few more breaths but you cross the threshold between dreams and reality and process what's happening.
"Leon," you say again, but this time as a gasp, eyes flying all the way open. "You're home." You surge up from the couch and throw your arms around his neck, nose to his pulse point. He's prepared for this and catches you with ease.
"Seems so," he grumbles, but he pulls you close, one hand bracing the back of your head. "I'm sorry it took so long --"
You cut him off with a somewhat clumsy kiss, mouths pressed together for the sake of it.
"You came back," you say sternly, the affect slightly dimmed by your sleep-slurred words. "That's what matters."
There are a thousand things he could say. I'm sorry, again. I wish it was different. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for being here. The list goes on and on.
He settles for another kiss, this one slower but still chaste. Just a reminder that this is happening, that this is real.
You look dazed and far too happy when he pulls away. It makes his chest feel full of electricity. You give him so much, and sometimes he doesn't know what to do with it.
"You need a dog," he grumbles, unable to resist some ribbing. You've said it's one of your favorite things about him, his teasing. He presses his thumb gently into the soft skin under your eye. "You didn't even stir when I opened the door."
The corners of your mouth pull up of their own accord and you turn your cheek into his palm, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.
"But it was you," you say, plainly. Leon is joking, mostly, but he doesn't get what you're saying. "I know when it's you," you continue, like he's missing the point.
He hums, but you aren't done.
"I know it's you," you repeat. "Even in my sleep. I know I'm safe."
Ah. He exhales all at once, face going slack and his fingertips pressing even harder into your hip for just a moment before he loosens his hold. You always know how to do this -- to rip through his armor, his necessary exterior, and remind him of what's inside. Just a man with a heart like everyone else.
"Shit," he mutters. "You sure know what to say to a guy, huh?"
You smile at him, languid and sincere, reaching up to tuck some of his fringe back behind his ear. He showered before he got back, a rare thing, but he's grateful for it now.
"Yep," you agree, pleased with yourself. "Can we go to bed now?"
God, he wants nothing more. To curl up in those soft sheets he's sure you washed fresh just for him, to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat as he falls asleep. To know you'll be next to him when he wakes.
Leon can't help it. He kisses you again, this one a bit more heated, a bit more intense. You barely keep up, gasping against his mouth. He uses the opportunity to dip his tongue between your lips for just a moment, to remember the taste of home. But he pulls away, pressing his mouth to yours once, twice, more.
"Yeah," he says. Your eyes are glassy with sleep and desire, but he knows which one will win out. There's plenty of time for the other tomorrow. "I'd love to."
He stands, tugging you up with him. You go willingly, always eager to follow him anywhere. Leon pulls you into a hug, a proper one, the way he would have had you been awake when he returned. Your arms go around his ribcage and the blanket pools at your feet. God, you smell good. Like everything he's ever wanted.
"I missed you," he says into your hair, but you hear it. You always hear him.
"I love you," you say back. Same thing, really, and you both know it.
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⤷ summary: preparing for your baby’s arrival, leon has taken it upon himself to start projects that involve babyproofing the house, prepping up the nursery, and supporting you all throughout your pregnancy journey. it’s like having your own personal handyman in the shape of your husband. (3.2k words)
⤷ pairing: leon kennedy x female!reader
⤷ genre: fluff, comfort
⤷ tags: RE9 Leon Kennedy, established relationship (leon is married to reader), fluff, leon tinkers around at home, reader is pregnant, lots of fluff, domestic leon kennedy, extremely mild angst
🚏 masterlist
Things at home have changed ever since you found out you were pregnant.
There were already visible changes in your body when you realized you’re basically carrying Leon’s baby inside your tummy, and as the months passed by, so did the stages in your pregnancy that Leon’s present for, no matter how big or small that milestone would be.
For instance, when you started showing, Leon made it a point to talk to your belly every night before going to bed. It was uncharacteristic of him, but at the same time, it endears you how it fascinates him that you’re growing a life inside of you, a life that you and him created together with love.
He treats you so delicately as if you’re made of something so tender and fragile, but he doesn't treat you as if you're completely incapacitated.
He's made aware by your doctor that pregnancy can be very stressful for a woman, but with the right care and support, it can be a wonderful journey that all expecting parents can come to enjoy and appreciate. So far, you haven’t been struggling at all, except for the occasional morning sickness or two.
Your pregnancy journey’s been smooth, and the doctor often mentions that you’re practically glowing with life.
With every doctor’s appointment you’ve had, Leon does his best to be present given the nature of his work, always away in the field, working at headquarters—it does hinder him from being present all the time at every appointment.
But by the third appointment he’s missed during your second month, you’re extremely surprised by the big decision Leon’s made to accommodate this new adjustment in your lives.
Leon decided to retire early from the DSO.
He returned from work one evening, carrying a box filled with papers and items from his office, and when he set it down, he told you those words you didn’t think would materialize from your husband’s mouth.
“I’m retiring, love.”
You almost forgot how to breathe.
There were so many things to consider with Leon’s decision, and you almost feel very disappointed he hadn’t consulted you or told you about this. But even then, he already opened the idea to you, even before you were pregnant. He had told you he wanted to focus on the life you were building with him, without the constant worry of being away for work, or taking a lot of time in the office instead of being at home with you.
Leon had also been planning this for a while. He explained to you that because of his years of service rendered to the government, along with the numerous hazard pay and bonuses he’s accumulated over the years, you’re basically set for life, and that doesn’t even include his monthly federal pension and health insurance, which includes you and your future kids as dependents.
Should Leon want to return to the DSO, there will always be an opening for him, not as an agent, but maybe something less dangerous like a consultant, an advisor, or a training officer—teaching anti-bioterror units, survival tactics, or just even on field operations.
But for the most part, he had traded the chaos of field missions for a quieter life at home with you and your unborn baby.
It was a well-calculated plan. Because Leon considered you and your baby for most of his decision, you knew that this was perhaps the right call for the situation which would allow Leon to be present for you during your pregnancy, and even after that. Even more when you’ve already given birth to your child. Especially then.
You didn’t want to doubt him, but you half-believed, half-expected that Leon would want to return as an agent, will crave the missions again, but by the time your seventh month rolled around, you were completely, utterly wrong.
You were grateful for his patience and love for the past six months, because he’s been more present in everything, whether it be appointments or simple late-night cravings. But he’s become more dedicated towards you and your baby when he found the joy of creating do-it-yourself projects at home.
“What are you doing?” You ask as you open the door to the nursery, finding Leon sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, a screwdriver in one hand and a shaft of wood on the other. “You’re already working on the crib?”
You’ve only bought it a while ago.
“Hm?” Leon looked up, his hands stilling. “You said it’ll take a while to build, honey. The model we picked out… it’s secure, yes, but I want to make sure it’s all properly assembled. I’ll start on the rocking chair afterwards, and maybe you could try it out, what do you say?”
“Sounds great,” you answer him, your hand falling over your belly, feeling a soft kick from your little one. “Can I do anything to help?”
Leon instantly shakes his head. He drops the tools first on the floor, before standing up and making his way towards you. Once he reaches you, he places a gentle palm on top of your belly above your sweater.
“I just want you to rest,” Leon says in earnest. “We walked around a lot at the store today, plus you’ve worn out your feet checking one shelf after another for baby clothes.” He chuckles softly.
You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re the one who indulges me, Leon. We basically brought home at least fifteen bags from earlier.”
“Hey, I just want to be prepared for our little girl.” he rubs delicate circles over the top of your belly. “Plus, remember that pinterest board you showed me with a ton of do-it-yourself-ers? That’s basically my entire to-do list right now.”
You can’t help but laugh softly. “Well you don’t have to make all of them, you know. I just have a few I want to have for our baby.” You explain.
“Well tell me all of them, and you’ll have them as soon as possible.” Leon promises, planning a soft kiss at the top of your head. “But for now, get some rest, okay? I’ll call you when the rocking chair’s done so you can try it.”
“Okay.”
You watch as he returns to his earlier spot, this time with more focus than you’ve ever seen, and he’s just attaching pieces of wood together. It endeared your heart to see him this dedicated. You love him more for it.
—
One evening, you wake up with the urge to pee. You open your eyes, adjusting to the dim light in your bedroom. When you turn to the side, you’re quite surprised to see that Leon’s awake at this hour, holding his tablet while he scrolls with his finger. He’s wearing his glasses, and when you stir, he looks at you immediately.
“Hey… do you need anything?” He sets the tablet down, turning towards you. “Water? A snack? A back rub?”
You shake your head, pushing yourself up to sit down. “No, I’m okay… I just need to pee. Why are you still up?”
“I’m on these parenting forums. Just reading a couple stuff, nothing too fancy. I’ve been looking at DIY projects too… I saw this portable diaper caddy and also a playpen, but I’m thinking I should start installing baby monitors first.”
You blinked, too sleepy to comprehend much of what he’s telling you right now. But you know he’s excitedly (although subtly) rambling on about the baby projects he’s been planning on making, and you know he’s got a list somewhere that includes all the things he wants to prepare before the baby arrives.
He continues, his voice focused but also intrigued. “I also read somewhere about how to install baby monitors the right way so their signal doesn’t get jammed. I’ll work on it later.”
You lean down to kiss his cheek. “Mmm… you’re such a handyman.” You murmur. “But don’t lose sleep over it, ‘kay? I’ll be down to help you later in the morning if—”
“No, baby… you just need to rest, yeah? Let me handle the woodwork and the heavy lifting. I want to do this, so please, let me?” He looks at your eyes, almost insisting, if not subtly pleading for you to let him be with his creative ambitions.
You chuckle sleepily, before nodding. “Hmm… okay, if you’re sure. But if I want something done, you better make sure you’re doing it,” you tease him.
Leon nods, smiling at you before pecking your lips. “What my wife wants, she will get. And that goes for our baby too.”
With that thought in mind, he returns to scrolling through online parenting and baby forums and even pinterest, even as he struggles to navigate it. You, on the other hand, waddle to the bathroom so you could use the toilet.
When you return and climb onto the bed, you merely kiss his cheek before you lie down again, this time, snuggling close to him, even as he stays awake, his mind alert and working more than ever.
He’s already bookmarked a couple websites, and later, he’s set to work on the baby monitors and he’s going to double check the hinges on the crib.
He’s not an overexcited dad-to-be, isn’t he?
He doesn’t think so.
—
After he installs the baby monitor, he tests it multiple times, going in every room inside the house because he wants to make sure that the signal works everywhere, even in the basement or outside in the backyard.
He’s also mounted blackout curtains in the nursery for the baby, since he read somewhere that babies sleep better in darker rooms. He used thicker curtain rods to make sure they’re locked into place.
The crib has been successfully assembled, and even the rocking chair you bought a few days ago sits still by the window of the nursery. Slowly but surely, the room is starting to come alive with the preparations you’ve been making, especially Leon, who insists on assembling everything so you don’t have to lift a finger.
The next time you find your husband working on a project, you see him in the backyard, smoothing and polishing off pieces of wood. You bring him a glass of iced tea, setting it on a nearby table before walking towards him.
Leon is shirtless, only wearing his jeans and boots, and you can see the veins in his arms and the muscles of his chest and abdomen in broad daylight. The sight makes your tummy flutter. He’s always been this attractive to you, but right now, it’s just messing with your hormones just a bit.
“Hey there handsome,” you greet, bringing him the glass of iced tea. “You’re working pretty hard… what are you making?”
Leon smiles as soon as he sees you approaching, and he sets down his tools before wiping his hands with a rag. “Hey yourself, beautiful. I’m just working on the dresser you showed me the other day. Figured you’d need some place to put baby clothes in. I’m just makin’ sure it won’t splinter or anything.”
“You know you don’t actually have to build everything I show you,” you say to him with a smile.
Leon polished another piece before tossing it slightly onto the table.
“Too late.”
You chuckle at him. “Well here’s something for you since you’ve been out all day here,” you hand him the glass, your eyes ogling his shoulders, his arms, his happy trail… but you catch yourself. “I made you iced tea.”
“Mhmm… thank you, angel. You’re so sweet to me.” Leon takes the beverage from you, sipping from it before he groans. “Now that’s nice.”
“You deserve it, after the hard work you’ve been putting into the nursery, the dresser, even the crib and the rocking chair and so much more,” you answer him, standing on your tip toes to plant a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, honey.”
“Don’t mention it, baby. For you and our little girl, I would build anything.”
“Just don’t overdo it okay?” You remind him gently. “I don’t want you straining yourself.”
You know he isn’t straining himself. You know this is what he needs after he retired from the DSO. You know Leon’s changed his purpose in life, from saving those around him from evil, to making sure your baby has the best life possible, and that you’re comfortable and safe at every stage of your pregnancy, and even after that.
“The only strain I’ll be doing around here is when my neck hurts from looking at you all day.”
—
By your eighth month into your pregnancy journey, Leon has successfully babyproofed your entire house.
He has installed outlet covers, cabinet locks, furniture anchors, and even corner guards on tables, which are all essential in making sure your home is safe and sound for a baby coming soon.
You watch him pour hours into every project, and he’s been rather thorough in reading safety guidelines for the furniture you bought, and even the other electronic devices that you will be using for the baby’s arrival. The nursery was ready—and Leon checked it everyday to see if he had missed something, which he hadn’t. He had basically memorized the layout of the nursery, of where you placed the items and all that whatnot.
He was attaching a few shelves to the walls which he made himself without breaking a sweat. You showed him a tiktok video of it the other day, something with a cream color with hooks to where you can hang the baby’s outfit for the day, and other items.
Pushing the door gently, you lean against the doorframe, you and that belly of yours that protrudes every shirt you have. A sliver of skin peeks from underneath the fabric of one of Leon’s old, smaller shirts that you love wearing because it smells like him, and it’s so much comfier.
You fold your arms across your chest, waiting for Leon to finish adjusting the shelves and decorating them with a small, pink stuffed animal and some baby books you bought last week, something about baby ducks and baby bears and the stars that twinkle high in the sky.
“Looks good in here,” you muse at him, your lips curling into a delicate smile. “Are you almost done there, honey?”
Your eyes scan the room, taking in the shelves, the dresser he’s made, the changing table he assembled along with a bunch of other small furniture. There’s the rocking chair and the crib, and the rug that he insisted he wash thoroughly to make sure it didn’t bring any outside bacteria in the nursery.
The milk bottles are ready, along with diapers and baby wipes that you have stashed underneath the changing table, inside its compartment. Baby clothes are folded neatly inside the dresser, and even your breast pump has been tinkered around with by Leon, making sure it won’t make you feel uncomfortable.
The only thing missing is your baby, who will arrive soon in just a couple of weeks.
Your eyes fall onto Leon once more. His brows are furrowed in concentration, hands adjusting the shelves until they are at least zero degrees flat. Then, he turns towards you, his expression softening as he sees you, especially in his shirt.
“Hey angel,” he cooed, dusting his hands off his jeans before walking towards you. Leon embraces you then, burying his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “How are my favorite girls doin’, hm?”
“We’re okay, we just miss daddy,” you answer softly, taking one of his hands and leading them to your tummy. Your baby is clearly kicking. “We’ve been waiting for you since a while ago.”
Leon pulls away, lightly apologetic. “Sorry baby, I got distracted, just wanted to put up these shelves and then I’m all yours.” He murmurs against your neck, the stubble of his jaw tickling your skin. “But I’m done now.”
You melt into his embrace before pulling away after a couple of seconds. Leon straightens up, before he looks around, and you can see something unreadable in his expression. Something akin to longing, but filled with so much more love.
He’s thinking about your daughter.
The baby growing inside your tummy.
“I’ve double-checked everything. The baby monitor, the mobile hanging over the crib, the bassinet, even the car seat’s already installed… I think we’re all set, angel. I don’t think we’ve missed something,” he says, his voice oddly wistful.
You recognize it immediately. You reach up and squeeze his arm reassuringly. “We’ll have so much more to work with once the baby’s here. You don’t have to worry about running out of things to do.” You laugh quietly.
Leon gives you a wry smile. “I know that… but these projects, it’s okay for me to make a mistake because I can just start over or see where it went wrong. But not with our baby. Not with our little girl. I can’t afford to make a mistake. What if I gave her the wrong formula? Or what if I ended up hurting her—”
“Hey, none of that,” you cut him off gently, reaching out to cup his cheek, turning his gaze towards yours. “We’re first-time parents, Leon. We’re bound to make mistakes, but at least we’re in this together, right?”
When he nods at you, you continue, thumb circling his cheek. “I know you’re anxious, love. I’ve seen you read a lot of those online parenting forums, but you don’t have to worry much because each parents’ experiences are unique. We’ll be alright, hon. I know we will be. Because you’re here for me and I’m here for you. We’re in this together. All three of us.”
Leon exhales a sigh before he pulls you into an embrace once more. He pecks your temple, his breath ghosting over your ear after. “I don’t say this much, but I’m scared shitless of screwing this up… I don’t always make the best decisions, but I married you, and now we’re having a baby together, and I’d like to think that you’re singlehandedly the best decision of my entire life.”
You almost tear up at his words.
“I love you so much, Y/N. I will do my best to become the best father to our little girl, and the best husband to you. You have my word for it.”
You bury your face into his chest and hold onto him like he’s your safe anchor. “I love you too, Leon… always.”
The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions for Leon as he prepared for your baby’s arrival. He’s gone through a series of feelings, from feeling focused, to determined, then to anxious and worried. He knows he’s gone through a lot worse, but nothing ever prepared him for when your daughter will finally be in the outside world with you.
Leon has made many mistakes in the past. Mistakes that cost him more than he can explain. Mistakes that still keep him up at night.
But with all the wrongs he made in his life, you are the one right thing that counters all of it.
You, and the miracle he calls your soon-to-be daughter.
this is for the anonymous person who requested for retired-from-the-dso leon to be a complete handyman husband at home with his wife 😁 i hope you like it!
also, thank you for all the positive notes on all my other fics so far, i can't wait to share more of my fics with you guys! expect more to come in the following weeks ♡
if you have any requests or would like to stop by and chat, feel free to send them! i love reading your requests and messages 🫶
thank you so much again for reading, have a wonderful day, wherever you are! 🤍
・。.・゜❃・.・❃・゜・。.
Prompt: John Price wants to make you feel special
Content: Fluff and comfort
this has been in my drafts for so long😭😭
.・。.・゜・゜
You stood in front of the mirror with a displeased look on your face. For the past couple minutes you’ve been staring at your reflection.
Your fingers trailed across your features, from your cheeks, lips, eyes, nose.
Tonight was supposed to be a special night for you and your husband, John. This was going to be the first time both of you had time to unwind and spend time together.
But nothing was going right.
Your dress looked awkward on your body, your makeup wasn’t turning out flawlessly and your hair was an absolute mess.
Seeing the horrible state your in was making you just want to stay home and hide away from everyone else. You felt ashamed of yourself.
A heavy lump appeared on your throat as you kept staring. Your vision began to grow blurry and tears threatened to spill out of your eyes.
Throughout most of your childhood, you were always teased about your appearance. Kids would always call you stupid names and mock you. Meanwhile, adults were always recommending ways to be prettier. Since then, it's stuck with you.
It was hard trying to be confident. You did everything you could to be comfortable in your own body yet nothing seemed to work.
Before you knew it you were already crying. Your soft sobs echoed throughout the bathroom. You tried to wipe away the tears but more just kept flowing down your cheeks, ruining your already messed up makeup.
"Lovie?" John called out, opening the bathroom door. "What's wrong, baby?"
You snapped your head towards John before quickly looking away, ashamed and embarrassed. "N—nothing, I was..."
John stepped closer, placing a hand on your cheek before he gently wiped the tears away. "It's not nothin' if you're crying like this," he replied.
He was already wearing his suit with his hair neatly styled and beard recently trimmed. You always wondered how a handsome man like him fell for you and even married you.
"It's okay, you can talk to me," he whispered softly.
You shook your head. "I just... I hate the way I look. I'm not pretty enough, John..." You mumbled.
"What? That's nonsense, lovie, and you know that," he quickly responded.
Before you could protest, he silenced you with a kiss on your forehead. "You're gorgeous, most perfect woman in the world."
A low scoff left your lips. "You're only saying that because we're married."
That only made him sigh deeply. "Sweetheart, it's the truth. Can't even count the number of times my heart stops when I see you."
His thumb wiped away whatever was left of your tears before he continued. "Every little detail, 's all perfect. Never felt so lucky in my whole life when we met."
John's sincere words never failed to bring a smile to your face. Before you knew it, your tears were already replaced with a soft grin and a faint blush.
"Thank you," you uttered.
He brought you closer for a hug and kissed you again, this time on your temple.
"No need for that, sweetheart. I'll keep reminding you even when we're old with gray hairs."
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Prompt: Leon Kennedy x Reader, ways he says 'I love you', headcanons
Content: All fluff!!
btw this was rushed and not proofread...
︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿︵︵
♡ Leon believes that saying 'I love you' constantly would lose its meaning, and that it should be saved for special moments between you two. Yet everyday, he still showed his affections towards you. He simply let his own actions speak for him.
♡ Every morning, right before he leaves for work, he'd gaze at your sleeping figure for a moment, engraving every little detail in his mind before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. He then leaves breakfast on the counter for you with a sticky note besides it, telling you to have a good day at work. The house would be quiet and empty when you finally wake up, but the traces of his presence never fails to make you smile first thing in the morning.
♡ Leon purposefully cracks the silliest, most unfunny joke ever just to see you smile. He knows how much you think his one liners are corny, yet that doesn’t stop you from laughing at it. No matter how much time passes, he will never get over the sound of your laughter. Sometimes, he’ll catch himself staring at your grinning expression, wondering how did he get so lucky.
♡ Leon will randomly do things 'just because'. Somedays, he'll bring home a bouquet of flowers for you, simply because he either passed by your favorite flower shop or they remind him of you. Other times, he'd randomly hold your hand, or hug you from behind without saying a word. When you ask him if everything's okay, he replies with, "I'm fine, just wanted to be close to you." And when he's not insanely busy from work, he'll send you text messages during the day just as a reminder that he's always thinking of you.
♡ It's after grueling, life or death missions that make him say 'I love you'. The instant he gets home to you, he'll let himself fall into your arms and whisper those precious words. Afterwards, he'd hold you, and kiss you tenderly. His touch would be slow and hesitant, like he's afraid of harming you. Because to him, you are more special than anything or anyone.
hes one of the palest people you've ever met. either from his lack of sunshine or the fact sometimes he forgets to eat for days.
but since hes so pale, sometimes people actually do know more about him than they really are sure.
he doesnt blush much, he's gotten over the feeling of embarrassment and shame, so much were used to him being as pale and blank as paper.
until you came along.
he's so contrasting with you. nonchalantess to the point it's annoying, yells in your face like he wants to personally kills you, and says the most blunt things that have offended you. and yet, you fell in love anyways.
as did he.
and soon, you found it was easier to make this giant man blush than what you thought— brushing the tips of your feets along his ankle, trailing slowly upwards tended to have simon leaning forward in his chair, elbows on the table and hands concealing everything down from his eyes because his cheeks are red as roses.
kiss his ear, run your tongue along the ridges, nibble on his jaw. he's resisting gasping from your touch, body hotter than the sun in summer, face shy and red.
call him your baby, tell him you love him, that he's sweet and beautiful and he's pushing his face into your neck to hide his blushing.
its come so common since he got with you that soap and gaz have come to warn simon when youre approaching so he could prepare himself visibly blushing from just the mere sight of you.
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Simon opening the door to his flat, and Johnny stops talking mid-sentence because there's a woman in the kitchen singing Kesha and cooking dinner. She's wearing an old army shirt that says RILEY across the shoulders and long socks.
When she catches sight of them, she grins. "Hey, babe. Who's this?
Johnny says, "Didn't know you had a bird, LT." He's about to step forward and offer his hand, but Simon stops him. When he looks up, Simon's paler than usual.
Ghost never talks about his home life. He never tells anyone anything. Not even Soap knows what goes on in Ghost's house. He knows that Ghost comes to bars. That he comes to work. But between the work and boys' night, nobody knows anything about him.
That is until Ghost has a little too much to drink one night and can't drive himself home. Soap had been the DD that night, so he asks Ghost for his address. Ghost reluctantly gives it to him after a few minutes of badgering and begging. The drive to Ghost's little townhouse near the base is peaceful.
The first thing Soap notices is that the lights are on. The second thing he notices is the flower bed by the pathway to the door. As Soap helps Ghost out of the passenger seat, he finds himself staring at the flowers. "When did you become a gardener, mate?" Soap asks.
"Huh- wot?" Ghost slurs.
"The flowers, Simon," he clarifies.
"Oh, the old lady planted them," replies Ghost, stumbling over a decorative brick. The brick shatters and crushes the flowers nearby. Soap tucks himself under Ghost's arm, supporting his weight as much as possible.
"The old lady, eh? Like a... neighbor or somethin'?" Soap prods.
He shakes his head. "No, no, my girl."
"What." Soap's jaw drops. He's standing at Ghost's door, hand on the knocker, but he finds himself unable to move. "You have a bird?"
"She ain't a bird," Ghost grumbles, swaying where he stands.
Soap finally manages to get himself to knock on the door, still holding Ghost up like a crutch. Sure enough, a pretty little thing answers the door in a nightgown.
You see Simon with his mask half-on and a stranger with a mohawk supporting him. You assume the mohawk man is one of the mates he goes to the bar with on Fridays. Simon must've had a bit too much tonight because usually he drives himself home when he's sobered up.
"Um, hello," you say tentatively.
"Hi, angel," Simon slurs at you.
"Hush, you're too drunk to call me an angel," you scold. "How much did he have to drink?"
"My name's Johnny, by the way," the man says, surprisingly Scottish. "I'm not sure. Four or five pints? A couple shots? The footie game was tonight and we got a wee bit excited."
"Oh, he's gonna be so hungover and cranky tomorrow," you mutter. "Come inside, Johnny. Help me get him to the couch."
"Not the bed?" Simon whines.
"You're in trouble, mister," you reply curtly.
Johnny spins around in the living room of your house like he's visiting a museum. He clearly didn't expect a house so cottage-y from a man like Simon. Paintings of flowers hang on the walls. A throw blanket and two pillows are on each couch. A TV is mounted to the wall over a short bookcase.
"This is right beautiful, mate," Johnny chuckles.
"She decorated it!" Simon replies proudly. "It's somethin' special, innit?"
"Shut it. Still in trouble for crushing my flowers and coming home pissfaced," you snap. "Johnny, welcome to our home. Simon will still be here in the morning if you want to check on him."
"I didn't know Ghost had a girlfriend," he whispers.
"Girlfriend?! I'm his fiancée! He didn't tell you about me?" you scoff. "Simon, you are in so much trouble!"
"Fiancée," Johnny breathes. "I didn't think it possible."
