𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑬

📂 MASTERLISTS ︱Resident Evil Masterlist ︱Dad Leon Kennedy Masterlist ︱DILF Leon Kennedy Masterlist ︱9 Days To Requiem Event Masterlist ︱Girl Dad Anthology Masterlist ︱BEYOND PROTECTION Series Masterlist

💬 WRITING GUIDELINES ✹ Fandoms I write for: Resident Evil (mostly), Formula 1 and Marvel ✹ I post fics, headcanons and series, both canon and AU ✹ Requests are open for any of the fandoms mentioned previously. However, I have the right to deny your request if I'm not comfortable with it ▶ You can send me your requests here ✹ DOs: All types of SFW and NSFW (unless mentioned in NOT DOs). Mostly x reader (female/gn) fics but there will also be posts about OC ✹ NOT DOs: Non-con, dub-con, incest of any kind, hybrid, heavy sexual practices. Reader/OC that are minors (no matter if it’s platonic) ✹ English isn't my first language so I apologize for any mistakes you might read in my works (feel free to correct me always doing it respectfully)

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to scroll through your phone while you can’t stop rereading the last text she’d sent you, somehow trying to find a hidden meaning on it. At the same time, you steal glances at Leon: his hands are gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles have gone white

You know he’s absolutely terrified. Also, you know, without a doubt, that he’s taking all this thing way worse than you are.

Where are you? you type quickly.

Please, answer me as soon as possible.

Dad and I are worried.

That last message doesn’t even appear as sent.

“I thought she said she was staying at Mia’s,” Leon finally says. “And she told us she’d be home around 9.30 p.m.”

Your husband turns to face you, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes search yours, though you try your best to avoid them. 

“I know.”

“She lied to us, love,” his voice cracks even you know perfectly well he wants to hide his panic.

“Leon: I know,” you repeat.

His jaw clenches and starts going around the kitchen. You know what’s exactly happening inside his head: he’s imagining every possible scenario, the worst ones, even probably none of them happened.

Or they did.

“When she gets home…”

Those words come out sharper than a knife, but you can’t blame him.

After that, he doesn’t say anything else for what feels like hours. You know that’s his way to pretend he’s not falling apart, but still, the edge in his voice stings, specially because this whole mess started long before your daughter stopped answering her phone a few hours ago.

It began with your husband coming home hours after dinner, too exhausted to manage to say more than a few monosyllables. Every single time, you pretended not to notice how hard he was trying to hide everything weighing on him.

Your daughter hadn’t been doing much better as well. She answered everything with monosyllables as well, slammed her bedroom door every time she disappeared upstairs, where she spent way too much time.

Leon and you snap your attention toward the front door the moment you hear it unlock. 

You daughter enters your house quietly, completely soaked from the rain pouring outside and freezing the moment she sees both of you there, waiting for her to arrive.

“Hey…” she says carefully, her eyes flicking between your husband and you.

“Where were you?” Leon demands, his voice way more louder and firmer than when he was talking to you. 

“Out.”

“No,” his voice rises immediately. “Don’t start with that. Don’t you dare give me those answers right now.”

She doesn’t reply, of course, but what she does is shifting her posture, getting defensive.

You sigh. Typical teenage pride, which is nothing but fear dressed up as anger.

“I was out with my friends.”

“At midnight?” Leon presses her.

“I lost track of time. It happens, you know,” she shrugs. “At least, you should understand me. That’s what you always say happens when you’re at work.”

You see Leon’s hands curl into fists while your daughter’s lips curl into a smile, quite satisfied with herself.

“You lied about where you were going,” he insists. “And, especially, who you were with. Weren’t you supposed to be at Mia’s?”

“Since when do you care so much about my life?”

Those words hit both of you.

Leon take a few steps forward until he’s almost face-to-face with her, but you’re faster. Quickly, you rise from your chair, catch him gently by the wrist, and force him to take a few steps back before he can close de distance.

He looks at you. You know it isn’t anger you’re seeing in his eyes, but anger. 

Just like your daughter, Leon’s scared.

“You don’t get to speak to me like that,” Leon says, surprisingly lowering his voice. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you tonight? Do you have any idea what your mother and I’ve been imagining? Huh?”

“I’m great,” she points at herself. “Can’t you see it? Nothing happened.”

“That’s not the point, and I think you know that just as much as we do.”

She rolls her eyes, and you know that only makes Leon even more anxious.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“Oh my God…” she mutters, finally walking over to the counter to pour herself a glass of water, drinking it desperately.

“No. Listen to me for once in your life—”

“Leon, she’s home,” you interrupt gently, resting a hand on his arm. “Let’s all calm down first, and then we can talk about this—”

“No,” he pulls away from your touch so abruptly it catches you off guard. “No, because every single time I try to teach her how things work under this roof, you step in and soften everything.”

Your daughter stares at the two of you, her eyes widening, clearly surprised and feeling that she just made things worse between her parents.

“Leon—”

“She didn’t come home when she promised she would,” his voice rises again. “She couldn’t even send one fucking message. What does she even have a damn phone for? To make TikToks?”

“I know, Leon. I know.”

“She lied to us,” he insists. “And, on top of that, she’s standing there acting like this is a joke.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he cuts you off:

“For once in your life, stop acting like I’m overreacting.”

“I’m not saying you’re overreacting or that you’re crazy, Leon. I’m just saying that there are other ways we could handle this. There doesn’t have to be—”

Your daughter lets out a quiet sigh and, taking advantage that the argument’s shifted between the two of you, she goes toward the stairs.

“Don’t you dare walk away from us now!” Leon shouts.

She stops halfway up the staircase, but doesn’t dare to turn around.

“You’re grounded.”

“What?!”

That’s what makes her turn around. 

You see that her eyes are glistening, definitely fighting tears. You know her too well to know that she doesn’t really care about being grounded, and if she’s feeling that way is because she knows she’s disappointed both of you.

“No phone, and no going out,” declares Leon. “Home, school. School, home. That’s what you get until I say otherwise.”

“For how long?” she cries, not being able to hold back tears anymore.

“We’ll see.”

“Fuck! This is so fucking unfair!”

“After the way you behaved tonight, I don’t think you’re in any position to decide what’s unfair,” states your husband, even more angry. “I hope everything’s clear.”

She ignores Leon and looks at you, clearly desperate, as if you having a conversation with her father could somehow fix all this mess… 

Like you usually do.

“Mom…”

Your husband notices. He lets out a long and frustrated sigh.

“See?” he lets out a bitter laugh, rolling his eyes. “It’s always the same with you two.”

“Leon—”

“She knows she can get away with anything as long as she gives you those sad puppy eyes and sheds a few tears,” his jaw tightens, same as the rest of his body. “Proof enough I’m right: you always undermine me.”

“I don’t undermine you, Leon. It’s just that—”

“I’m not arguing with you over something I know I’m right about.”

Your daughter’s face tightens up with unmistakable guilt. Then, she says:

“Can you two stop fighting while I’m still here?”

“Go upstairs,” your husband doesn’t even look at her.

“I don’t want to,” she snaps. “This is ridiculous. I know this is my fault, okay? You’ve already grounded me, and now we can’t even have one calm conversation to—”

“Upstairs. Now.”

This time, his voice breaks halfway through the sentence.

Your daughter flinches, and the tears she’s been trying so hard to hold back spill freely now as she rushes upstairs, disappearing into her bedroom before slamming the door hard enough for you to hear it.

Leon sighs, lowering his head and shaking it.

You know that he’s disappointed with himself for becoming the one thing he swore he’d never be the day he found out you were pregnant: the father his daughter is afraid of.

You watch him rake both hands through his hair, desperately trying to calm himself before stopping in front of you.

“You shouldn't have done that in front of her,” you say, your expression remaining completely serious.

He laughs again, this time in disbelief of your words.

“Done what? Act like a worried father?”

“You went way too far with her.”

“She disappeared for hours. She couldn’t even be bothered to answer a damn text.”

“She’s sixteen, Leon!” your own voice rises. “She’s a teenager. The last thing on her mind is texting her parents to tell them she’s okay.”

“So being a teen excuses her shitty behavior?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying—”

“Then why is it that I always have to end up being the bad guy?”

You hold his gaze. Seeing how exhausted he looks makes you want to leave this conversation for another moment, but you know he won’t let it go.

“That’s not fair,” is all you manage to say, quietly.

“Oh, it isn’t?” he steps even closer. “Because every time I’m honest with her, you jump in like I’m saying something crazy. And I’m not crazy, you know. I just—”

“Sometimes you act as if you really lost your mind, Leon,” the words leave your mind before you can soften them. “Specially, when you’re scared something bad might happen. I understand why, I really do, but you can’t be this overprotective because—”

His expression hardens instantly, and the rest of the sentence dies in your throat.

“So now I’m crazy and overprotective.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you rush to reply.

“For someone who didn’t mean it…” he laughs humorlessly. “That’s exactly what you said.”

You step around him, heading towards the living room and refusing to look back because you know he’s following you.

“God, this is exactly what I mean,” Leon says, throwing his hands into the ait. His voice is louder now, edged with frustration. “I say one thing, and somehow you twist it into something completely different.”

You stop and turn around.

The anger on his face catches you off guard, and he seems to realize it too. 

You know he regrets what he just said, but he doesn’t know how to take it back.

That just makes a painful silence settle between you two and, now, you’re the one fighting back tears.

“So you really think I make you feel that way?” you dare asking your husband.

“You don’t trust me when it comes to her,” his eyes meet yours. “You make me feel like I’m a bad father.”

“That’s not true, Leon. Don’t go there, because—”

“You act like I’m some emotionally repressed asshole whose damn trauma keeps him from knowing how to talk to his own daughter.”

“Leon, that’s not—”

“You know what? I try. God, I try so damn hard, but sometimes…”

His voice breaks before he can finish and, somehow, that hurts even more.

“I know you do,” you answer softly, taking one hesitant step closer to him.

“Do you?” 

He sounds devastated. He sounds so different from the man who’d been shouting only minutes ago that it completely catches you off guard. But, especially… you’re grateful he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you, even he doesn’t seem to know how to handle his emotions quite well.

“No matter how hard I try…” he keeps talking, his voice barely audible now. “It never feels like enough. I never feel like I’m good enough for either of you.”

Those words shatter something inside you, your tears finally escaping. 

All you want is to wrap your arms around him. You want to tell him the last few months have been completely shit, but that everything will get better.

However, you don’t. You know Leon better than anyone. After all these years together dating, marriage, and building a family together, you’ve learnt that physical comfort is the last thing he wants when he’s feeling this exposed and vulnerable.

Leon braces both his hands against the kitchen counter, staring down at the floor.

“I work more hours than most people in this country,” he says hoarsely. “Partly, because I’m trying to keep this family safe for all the shit out there. I do everything I can to stay on top of everyone’s lives…” he lets out a shaky breath, “and, somehow, I still feel like a stranger every time I walk into my own home.”

“Leon… that’s not true—”

“I’ve missed way too many of those stupid parent-teacher conferences,” he continues. “I’ve missed gymnastics competitions, soccer games…” he laughs bitterly at himself. “Fuck it, even half the time we’re togethe she barely says a word to me unless she really wants something.”

“She’s a teen,” you remind him gently.

“She used to tell me everything,” his voice cracks again. “Now she looks at me like I’m a fucking intruder instead of someone she can trust.”

The pain in his voice is what destroys you.

“And don’t you think I miss all of that too?” you ask quietly, folding your arms around yourself. He finally looks at you. “You come home exhausted… When you actually do, because sometimes the DSO, apparently, needs you more than we do,” your voice trembles. “And even when you’re here… your mind always seems to be somewhere else. On some mission that has nothing to do with your family.”

Leon closes his eyes and sighs. He knows you’re right, but he just doesn’t know how to admit it.

“You think I want my entire life to belong to the DSO?”

“No,” you shake your head. “But the way you act… Sometimes, it feels like it does.”

“I’m doing everything I can, love,” his voice is almost pleading now. “You know I am.”

“And so am I, Leon!” the words come out louder than you want. “I carry everything when you’re gone which, believe it or not, is more often that I’d like,” tears stream freely down your face now. “The phone calls from school, the psychologist appointments, mood swings, the panic attacks…”

Leon jerks his head up.

“What you mean panic attacks?”

You freeze.

Fuck.

You weren’t supposed to tell him. Color drains slowly from your face.

“What do you mean with panic attacks?” he asks again, more desperate.

“The last one was last week. On Friday. It was when you had to leave because of those cases in Wrenwood, and—”

“And it never crossed your mind to tell me?” he asks, the hurt in his voice outweighing the anger.

“She begged me not to,” you wipe your tears away as quickly as they fall.

“Still, you should've told me!”

“Do you have any idea how terrified she was that you’d think something was wrong with her?”

“Oh my God…” he whispers. “How could I ever think that about her when I’ve been having panic attacks myself for almost the past thirty years of my life?”

Guilt hits him instantly. He drags both hands over his face for what feels like the hundredth time that day but this time, you notice they’re trembling.

“Leon—”

“She’s been having panic attacks, and I didn’t even know.”

“I already told you: you were away because of those cases and, then, everything related with your illness, and—”

“So what?” he suddenly shouts. “I’m still her father! You should've told me! Why does it feel like both you and her have decided I don’t get to know what’s going on in your lives unless everything blows up in my fucking face like it has tonight?”

A noise echoes from upstairs, and the two of you fall silent almost instantly, even containing your breathing, as if that alone might undo what was just said.

Of course: your daughter’s been listening.

“Great,” your husband mutters, pacing the kitchen again. “Fucking great.”

“Can we not?” you whisper, hurrying over to him. “You told you, Leon: this isn’t the time.”

“Then when is it the time?” he shoots back. “Because, apparently, it never is until everything explodes like it did today. Do you want this to happen again?”

“That’s not fair, Leon. You know whenever something’s wrong, we sit down and talk about it, but—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “The last few months we’ve done nothing but circle around any problem, avoiding it until it blow up,” he repeat, gesturing between the two of you. “Exaclty like we’re doing now.”

“Because every time I try, you shut down or get defensive.”

He looks at you, not really believing you’re talking about him even deep down you know by his expression he realizes you’re right.

“If I get defensive it’s because I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to losing both of you,” Leon forces to pause himself. “Do you know what scares me the most?”

The anxiety slowly leaves your body, replaced by an overwhelming sadness.

“It scares me coming home one day and realising the two of you can live perfectly fine without me, and I’m nothing to you but a mere stranger.”

His eyes drop to the floor, barely holding himself together.

“Realising I don’t deserve either of you—”

“Leon, don’t say that,” you interrupt him.

“Our daughter…” his voice trembles. “The little girl who used to do everything with me now can barely look me in the eye. Fuck, she barely even speaks to me. And you…” he forces out a shaky laugh. “Every time I come home, you look completely exhausted, like you’re tired of everything.”

“Because I am,” you answer without hesitation. Leon lifts his face to you. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, Leon. You’re not the only one carrying more than anyone realises,” you wipe your cheeks. “I’m scared too,” you let out a broken laugh. “And, just like you, I’ve been pretending I’m fine. And look where that’s got us.”

You sink into one of the chairs, burying your face in your hands. Leon doesn’t move.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I wake up every day feeling like all I do is fail. Like I’m a terrible mother,” your voice cracks, while your husband is frozen. “I try so, so hard, and yet somehow noting I do feels enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

You look up. Leon’s staring at you with eyes that’ve turned bright red.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you,” he shakes his head. “And I shouldn’t have told you that you make me feel small.”

“It’s okay.”

Even those are the words that leave your mouth, you know they aren’t true, and all this will replay in your head for weeks, constantly overthinking.

“No. It’s not,” Leon says immediately, taking a slow breath. Then, he softens his voice: “You were trying to protect her, just like I was.

A sad smile appears on his face, as his lips tremble with that confession. 

He drifts his eyes towards the staircase, tracing the path your daughter disappeared just a few minutes ago.

“I scared her—”

“No.”

You close the distance between you two, immediately taking his hands firmly in yours, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

“You scared yourself,” your voice’s gentle. “And, because you were scared… you lost control.”

“I couldn’t— I can’t stop thinking about everything that could’ve happened tonight.”

Fear controls him once again. He slips an arm around your waist but, this time, you don’t hesitate: you wrap your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. 

You realise his heartbeat is quite too fast, and hope it doesn’t go faster.

“She could’ve been in a car accident,” his voice shakes, and squeezes his eyes. “Someone could’ve kidnaped her. Or what if someone had—”

“Leon: stop.”

You pull back enough to cup his face in both your hands, forcing him to look at you. 

“You’re her father,” your thumbs brush gently across his cheeks. “No matter how badly you want to protect her, you can’t control everything.”

“I know,” Leon takes your hands, and now he’s the one pressing soft kisses to them. “But knowing that doesn’t stop my brain from telling me it’s my job to protect you both. You two are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and that’s exactly why I can’t lose you.”

You hate yourself for letting tears fall once again.

“Do you know what scares me? That we’re trying so, so hard, to have a good relationship with her, to raise her to be a good person, that maybe we’re missing something else,” you let out a shaky breath. “I know all this is part of raising a teenager. I know she’s supposed to become independent and all that, but… What if one day she doesn’t need us anymore?”

“She still needs us,” Leon looks at you utterly broken, understanding exactly what you mean. “And even when she’s independent, a tiny part of her will always needs us,” he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “We’re not going to lose her, even if that’s exactly what it feels like we’re doing.”

Leon pulls you tightly against him, desperate. You bury your face in his chest once again, a sob escaping your lips before you can stop it, wishing your daughter didn’t hear it.

Your husband holds you even tighter. His hand moves slowly up and down your back, while he presses gentle kisses to your cheek, rocking you two softly, trying to find the calm you’ve been searching for, the one you desperately need.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, completely shattered. “I’m so, so sorry, love.”

“I’ve missed you.”

That confession leaves you between sobs as you cling to his shirt, feeling his arms tense around you.

“I miss my husband,” you let out another sob. “I miss talking to you without you checking your phone every five minutes in case there’s another outbreak. I miss you coming to bed with me at a normal hour. I miss not feeling alone all the time.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice barely audible. “You have no idea how much I hate myself for that.”

Your crying doesn’t stop yet, and Leon just holds you closer, if that’s even possible.

“I’m trying to give you both the best life I can.”

“You already do, Leon. It’s just—”

“I know,” he cuts you off gently. “I know I’m not here as much as I should, but from now on… I’m going to try harder. I’m going to be here for you both.”

He rests his forehead against yours before leaving a soft kiss on your lips, tasting the salt of your tears.

You need Leon way more than you’re willing to admit, so it doesn’t surprise you that, the moment he starts pulling away from you, you kiss him again. This time is longer, deeper, a kiss that tastes like months of longing, hurt, relief, and every single feeling the two of you have buried for way too long.

“I don’t want us to become strangers, love,” he admits, his hands still cradling your face.

“We won’t.”

“How are you so sure? After everything that’s—”

You silence him with another kiss.

“People who stop loving each other don’t fight the way we’re doing to keep moving forward,” your thumb brushes gently across his face, and offer him a small, shy smile. “After all the mess we’ve made… we’re finding our way back to each other. To us.”

For the first time in a long, long time, you see Leon’s eyes fill with tears.

Last time you’d seen him cry was the day he found out he was dying from something he had no idea about. The very same day he realised he really could lose you both forever.

“I love you so much,” he whispers. “Somtimes, I love you that much that it scares me more than it should. Love shouldn’t scare, you know.”

You leave a kiss on his forehead. Then, another one on his neck. You feel his hands tremble slightly against your waist as your lops linger there, your arms winding around his neck.

“I’m going to do better,” he murmurs. “I swear, I’m going to fight for us.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Leon. I don’t want you to be perfect.”

“I know,” he lets out a tired breath. “I just don’t want you carrying all of this by yourself.”

“You're already carrying too much,” you tell him. “You need to take some time off before you end up having a heart attack. Give it a thought to have a chat with any of your superiors, please.”

A weak laugh escapes his lips. He knows you’re right.

“We’re idiots. Both of us.”

You smile through your tears, not even daring to argue with him since for the first time in a long time, your husband’s more right that he’s been in a while.

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you,” Leon says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I never should’ve done that.”

“I’m sorry too,” you lower your eyes. “Specially for keeping things from you that you absolutely deserved to know.”

The guilt of hiding your daughter’s panic attacks still weighs heavily on your chest.

Leon gently brushes his thumbs beneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that seem to refuse to stop falling.

“Even with that, you’re still the best mom in the world.”

You laugh, even those words only make you want to cry even more.

“And you’re still the best dad in the world. No matter what, okay, Mr. Overthinker?”

“You really believe that?” Leon asks, almost… worried, ashamed.

“Of course I do.”

“But she was scared when I was yelling at her,” he closes his eyes, the image of your daughter frozen halfway up the stairs flashing through his mind. “I don’t want her to be afraid of me. Ever.”

“She’s not afraid of you, love,” you reply, tho he doesn’t look quite convinced. “She’s afraid of disappointing you. And, today…” you sigh, squeezing his hand, “she, indeed, disappointed us.”

“We should go check on her.”

That’s all Leon says, and you couldn’t agree more.

Without saying another word, the two of you head upstairs, carefully, his hand searching for yours, your fingers threading together before you reach your daughter’s bedroom.

You move to step inside, still holding Leon’s hand, but he doesn’t.

He hesitates, and you can almost feel the fear of fucking up again consuming him, so you do what you’ve always done for him: reminding him he isn’t alone.

You look at him and smile. A small nod encourages him to follow your steps while you continue stroking the back of his hand, silently telling him what words can’t. 

I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Together, you step inside, finding out your daughter’s fast asleep, curled against the wall. She has one arm wrapped around the pillow she’s had since she was little, while her favourite stuffed animal, Chris’s gift to her when she was just 2, is tucked against her chest.

You see that there are still tears staining her cheeks, and Leon notices them too.

Quietly, he walks over and pulls the blanket up around her shoulders, covering the legs she’d kicked free in her sleep.

She shifts slightly, which makes Leon instinctively step back, but thankfully she doesn’t wake up. 

After hesitating for a bit, Leon crouches beside the bed, pressing gently a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers, not making the effort to hide those words from you. “We’ll figure this out even I’m a dick.”

You quickly look for his hand the moment he stands and look at him, who simply nods to lead you out of the room, closing the door as carefully as he can before guiding you to your bedroom.

The second you step inside, the full weight of the argument crashes all over you. Your head hurts a lot, and you already know tomorrow’s migraine’s going to be insane unless you have some medicine for it.

Leon sits down on the edge of the bed, not having any idea of what to say.

You climb onto the mattress, moving across it on your knees until you’re sitting behind him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him gently back against you. Your husband lets his head rest against your shoulder.

“You have no idea how much I hate when we fight,” he murmurs, letting out the quietest groan as your fingers begin kneading the tension from his shoulders.

You’re too exhausted to answer, so when your silence lingers, Leon turns slightly to look at you. Then, carefully, he eases you both down on bed, slipping one arm beneath your neck.

“I love you.”

Your fingers disappear in his hair while his free arm circles your waist, drawing you closer.

“I love you too, Leon Kennedy.”

You rest your head against his chest, calming down as his heartbeat’s way calmer and steady now, perfectly in sync with your own.

“We should get some sleep,” your husband murmurs, rolling onto his side so he can face you.

“Your words, not mine,” you pull the blankets over both of you before wrapping your arms around his waist. “So you better put every intrusive thought aside and go sleep with me.”

The corners of his mouth lift into a tired smile.

“You’re never going to stop being bossy, right?”

“Come on,” you curve your lips slightly, but your smile can only grow bigger as Leon’s does. “As if you don’t secretly love it.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖

As you were getting closer to the ranch, you realised that somehow nothing had changed, but at the same time, it all did. 

A wave of familiarity settles in your chest, comforting and painfully bittersweet all at once.

Ben, your boyfriend, kills the engine, though his hands remain tightly wrapped around the steering wheel.

"You know, this is your last chance to run away."

He joked, not even looking at you. However, something deep down told you he wasn't really joking.

You let out a quiet, shy laugh, before pushing the door open. Slinging an oversized backpack higher onto your shoulder, she step out of the car.

"The way you're talking seems like I'm about to go to prison," you tease, your voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "Thought I was just starting a new job."

"Considering how urgently Claire called you, and how fast you said yes..." Ben replies, finally turning to face you. "Kinda sounded like someone was about to die."

The faint smile on his lips disappears almost immediately.

"Call me when you're done. I'll be at your parents'."

You don't answer right away. You keep your expression carefully neutral, just like he does.

Silence settles between you both until you finally give him a small nod. He returns it, and you lean through the open window to press a soft kiss against his lips.

Ben's hand comes up to cradle your jaw, silently asking for a much deeper kiss but to his surprise, and your very own, you pull away almost instantly.

You need to breathe.

"Wow," Ben's tone sharpens. "Seems like now you have a hard time showing your boyfriend you love him," his eyes narrow. "Is there a problem?"

"No. Of course not."

The words come out way too quickly, scrambling to cover the mistake you knew you'd just made.

"I'm just... nervous. You know: the new job, meeting everyone again after years just chatting..." you force a smile. "These things happen when you leave your whole life behind and decide to start over again... once again."

"Did you leave me behind too?"

You silently count to ten. 

The last thing you wanted was to start an argument. Specially, not standing at the entrance of the one and only Redfield Ranch, the place that was like home for you during many years.

"I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"

That's all you say.

You don't even bother looking back to see whether Ben was still watching you. You try not to think about that and quicken your pace, letting yourself soak in the spirit of the ranch you'd missed way more than you'd ever dared to admit during your years in New York.

The scent of dry grass and sun-warmed wood. The heat of the afternoon sun against your skin. The stables in the distance, looking way better than your remembered...

You're so lost in your own world that you don't stop until you see Claire who, honestly... looked as if she was someone else.

There's no sign of her worn-out jeans, boots, or those cropped t-shirts of hers. Instead, she looks quite professional, clearly trying to be someone she really isn't. Instead, she's wearing a crisp white button-down neatly tucked into tailored trousers that fit her perfectly, paired, somehow, with spotless white Converse.

Even her hair's neatly tied back instead of being its usual mess.

Is running the ranch by herself now that Chris was Cedar Creek's mayor really affecting her that much?

The younger Redfield lifts a hand to catch your attention, still pretty distracted that barely even notice.

"Hey, you, in here!"

Hearing your name, you hurry the last few steps between you only for Claire to wrap you in a hug the moment you were about to say hi.

"Took you long enough," the redhead mumbles without letting you go. "I get that coming back's a bit of a shock and everything... but really? It's not like you haven't seen the ranch in pictures or during our video calls."

"I'm coming from New York," you laugh. "Things are... just a little different there compared to Cedar Creek."

You glance around once again.

"I guess I'm just excited to be back home after a long time."

Claire pulls back just enough to look at your face, though she still refuses to let you go.

"You look good."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or a warning?"

"A little more of a warning, to be honest," Claire admitts without hesitation. "You sure you're okay? Did something happen on the trip? You look... I wouldn't say pale, but..."

You shake your head immediately.

It wasn't what'd happened during the trip. Actually, it's everything that'd happened before it, and everything that'd been happening for way longer than you dared to admit.

All the thoughts that couldn't escape from your head. 

The endless cycle you've spent nearly two years trying, and definitely failing, to break.

"I'm tired, it's just that. It was a long trip," you simply said. "Ben thought we'd save money coming by car, so we barely slept."

The moment Claire hears Ben's name and saw how your expression shifts, she quietly takes a couple of steps backward.

Her gaze drifts toward the car, still parked outside the ranch, and toward the man she recognizes from every picture you've posted online.

"Are you in a hurry?" Claire asks. You frown and shake your head, asking her why. "Your boyfriend's still sitting there."

She points to the car.

"Oh..." you look over your shoulder. "He's probably just trying to find my parents' bar on Google Maps. He's never been here before, and with the pride he has, I'm sure he'd rather get lost than ask one of some locals for directions."

Claire gives Ben a polite nod, who doesn't even bother returning it.

Trying not to let you notice the irritation she's feeling and that flashes across her face, Claire gently takes your hand and starts leading you inside the ranch.

"Come on. I'll give you the tour before we both lose our minds."

"I literally just got here, Claire. Don't you think we should—"

"Exactly," Claire cuts in. "I desperately need to vent to someone after spending my entire day buried in paperwork. If someone'd told me I'd end up running this ranch full-time just because I had the brilliant idea of convincing Chris to take part in the elections..." she groans dramatically. "I should've sold my part to Chris years ago, I'm telling you."

Claire keeps talking about how much her life's changed... even though it'd only been a month while you walk side by side, her talking nonstop while you just listen to everything:

"That's the storage barn," Claire points toward a large building without slowing down. "We built it not long after you left because Chris decided expanding the stables was a fantastic idea," she gestures to her right. "And, over there, is living hell: my office," she sighs. "Don't dare going unless you're ready to listen to me venting for hours. Jill usually leaves the second she hears me start complaining."

"I'll take notes on that," you smile. "No talking to Claire during office hours."

Claire arches an eyebrow.

"What? You don't want me talking to you after work either?"

"Depends," she shrugs. "You have no idea how miserable I've been. I've cried more and slept way less this past month than I did during my entire time at college."

You round the corner near the main house, which barely looks like one anymore.

Claire gradually slows her pace and stops, you matching her steps until you're both standing on the front porch.

"I'm sorry."

Claire speaks so suddenly that you blink in surprise.

"Oh? Why is that so?"

"I mean... I'm terribly sorry for calling you like it was some kind of life-or-death emergency. I mean..." Claire sighs. "Technically, it kinda is, but still..."

You shrug, trying to brush it off even you know quite well how serious this topic is to your friend.

"Don't worry about it, really," you smile reassuringly. "Besides, I already told you: Ben and I'd already been thinking about changing our lives a bit, and..." another small shrug. "You know me. I believe in fate and all that stuff you love making fun of."

"Changing your lives a bit, huh?" Claire arches an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You know... Leaving the chaos of New York behind and finally being able to breathe again, as stupid as it sounds"

"Even if that means giving up a very well-paid job as an equine veterinary specialist to become a two-for-one trainer and vet in the middle of nowhere?" Claire snorts. "Not to mention the absolutely terrible salary."

You chuckle under your breath and nod.

"The last few years made me realize I'd rather have peace of mind than money."

Claire lets out a quiet laugh.

"So... Guess you're going back to the bar too, right?" she asks.

"Yeah," your voice softens. "My parents could use a little help from me," she hesitated. "And, honestly..." your shrug once again, "it feels, somehow, comforting, like I'm stepping back into my comfort zone, specially after..."

Your lower your gaze, starting to twist your fingers almost automatically, nervously. 

The words stay still in your throat.

"The point is I'm happy to be back," you keep talking, a bit more shyly and ashamed of admitting that out loud. "I'm pretty happy to have this... lifestyle, or whatever you want to call it, again."

Claire smirks.

For a few seconds, you have the feeling your friend wants to say something else... but, thankfully, she didn't. 

Instead, Claire simply nods and leads you toward the wooden bench on the porch. You sit down while Claire leans against one of the columns, folding her arms. 

"Okay. So... here's the thing."

She pauses and takes a deep breath, which makes your pay even more attention.

"We're running out of money."

Another pause, this one even more uncomfortable.

"It's not just that the budget's tight," Claire lets out a sarcastic laugh. "The thing is that, if I screw up again with anything, I'll probably have to declare bankruptcy and sell the ranch for a dollar."

You stand up immediately, moving to lean against the column in front of her.

"I've been thinking about different options of what we can do to make things better," she continues. "I haven't talked to Rowan about any of them yet, but—"

"Wait," you blink. You lean forward, eyes wide open. "Rowan? You mean that Rowan?"

"Come on, don't start. You just came. We're not doing this."

"Claire, if it's that Rowan—" 

You insist, making Claire roll her eyes, desperation taking over her.

"Yes, it's that Rowan," she confirms. "Long story short, it was all Barry's idea, but I honestly don't feel like explaining anything else right now. It's being... Well, an interesting experience, to say the least."

You open your mouth to press her a bit more, then think better of it. If you were in her position and instead of Rowan, they were talking about—

"Yeah. Sure. No worries," you simply reply in a whisper, a bit ashamed.

"The point is that we need to focus on whatever we can do to... save the ranch," Claire keeps going, sighing once again. "We need better training and harder routines without putting too much pressure on them. Honeybee and Chestnut have to perform at their absolute best if we want to get something out of this."

"And if it works?"

You already know the answer, but still feel like asking. You competed for years yourself and won way too many competitions. You plan was to keep doing that until you were old enough to stop riding horses, but New York and an internship that could change your life, in the best way possible, ended up catching your attention. 

"The prizes will probably help us get back on our feet," Claire shrugged. "You know how this goes way better than me, Vi. I don't even know why you're asking."

"And if it doesn't?" you ask again, quickly and desperate.

"You know that answer too."

Claire gives you a tired smile.

"We lose even more by trying. Taking into account travel expenses, transporting the horses, accommodation... Competing isn't exactly cheap, and we're not exactly comfortable with money right now... but I think the risk is worth it."

"Everything'll work out," it's all you can say, offering her a small smile.

"You always say that," Claire shakes her head. "I hate how optimistic you are."

"I know," you smile a little wider. "But somebody has to be."

The confidence in your voice does absolutely nothing to hide the knot of anxiety still twisting in your stomach.

"I get why you're scared," you continue talking. "I know that not being sure of something and what'll happen is terrifying. But you know what? Things always find a way of working themselves out."

Claire sighs.

"We're lucky Leon's helping us."

The second those words leave her mouth, and the moment she watches every trace of color drain from your face, she knows she'd made a mistake.

Claire really fucked up.

"What Leon are you talking about?" your ask, too quickly and quite in shock.

"Kennedy. Come on: what other Leon could it be?"

She's right, of course. Who else could it be? It's not that many people were named Leon. Specially, not in Cedar Creek.

You nod slowly, mentally cursing yourself for asking such a stupid question.

The anxiety that's been simmering in your stomach way before you arrived at the ranch suddenly becomes almost unbearable. You even feel the need to throw up, having to take a few deep breaths to not let yourself get worse.

"Right..."

You force a weak smile that makes Claire's expression shift.

"Look..." she begans talking carefully, rubbing the back of her neck. "I know you two have history. And, whatever happened... I still don't really know why the two of you suddenly stopped speaking."

"Stopped speaking?" your repeat, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. "Listen, if it'd been that simple—"

"I get it, okay? That's what I mean..." Claire sighs. "Or maybe I don't, but you're adults who I know can handle this whole situation of working together no matter how close you were."

She looks quite uncomfortable, which makes you quite uncomfortable as well.

"Anyway," Claire keeps talking, snapping you out of your thoughts. "If you're okay with it, you'll handle the morning training sessions. Leon has most of his sheriff duties during mornings, and since you'll be helping at your parents' bar, probably your afternoons will be busier, while his afternoons are a lot more flexible," she looks at you. "I mean, if you're okay with it, I made that whole schedule without even talking to you both before."

You give a small nod. You can't seem to find your voice, but your body language spoke for yourself.

Claire notices, of course.

"You okay?" she asks once again. 

All you can do is nod. Claire doesn't push, even she knows you're lying. All she does is stepping away from the column and wrap her arms around you again. This time you barely return it, feeling even a bit uncomfortable.

"I'll leave you so you can have time for yourself and wander around here," Claire says. "I have to find Rowan. I want to talk to her about the fundraising festival I've been thinking about."

You manage to show her faint smile.

"Good luck with that. And with her."

The younger Redfield nods. Before heading inside, she takes a couple of steps back.

"I'm really glad you're here," she says to you. "And... I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Leon. I definitely should've."

The nervous knot in your stomach climbs straight to your chest.

"Yeah. Me too," is all you manage to say.

Claire nods once again before disappearing inside the house, closing the door behind her.

Left alone, you find yourself drowning in a thousand intrusive thoughts, not being quite sure of what to do next until you remember the reason why you left your whole life behind.

The horses.

Helping Claire save the ranch.

Making sure neither she nor Chris lost the last piece of their family's legacy.

You head toward the stables without even thinking, though your heartbeat pushes your feet a little faster than you'd have liked. Every few seconds, your eyes dart around, expecting to run into someone.

Leon.

You stop in front of the stable doors, closed for some reason you can't quite understand. Without giving it a second thought, you brace one shoulder against one of them and push.

The heavy wooden door wings open with more ease than you remembered from your teenage years, when you spent hours and hours there doing absolutely everything you could.

The moment you step inside, the scent of fresh hay, damp earth, and wood shavings rushes over you and, with it, come all the memories you'd forgotten you still carried with you.

The amount of afternoons spent laughing while trying to brush a stubborn mare that insisted on wandering away every five seconds. 

The little pony Chris adopted shortly after Sebastian, his son, was born, and how they thought it'd be a great idea to put an absurdly oversized pair of fake sunglasses on him.

The picture you took of Chris and Leon standing proudly beside him, and how Claire then insisted that you and Leon better had a photo taken too even all you could do was scolding them for laughing at the poor animal.

You remember how you felt when Leon swept you off your feet, carrying you in bridal style as if you'd just gotten married, and how you'd felt an insane amount of butterflies fluttering inside your stomach that now are pure mixed feelings that raise your anxiety.

You force yourself to walk farther into the stable, putting all those memories aside before they could become something more than just another knife twisting in your chest.

A soft whinny pulled her attention to the right.

A chestnut horse, way too calm, stood inside one of the stalls, ears flicking curiously as he lifted his head.

"Well, look who we have in here..." you murmur, walking over slowly, your smile growing bigger. "Long time no see, Chestnut."

The horse bobs his head, as if he's recognizing an old friend, before stretching his neck toward you. You rest your forearms against the stall door and gently stroke his muzzle.

"You have no idea how happy I'm to see you," you smile. "Great thing the two of us already know each other," you scratch beneath his jaw, which your remembered the horse loves. "You're going to make my job a whole lot easier. Bet Ada's too."

Chestnut answers with a loud snort, and you choose to take that as an agreement.

You step away from him and slowly scan the stable again, looking for the other horse you know almost as well as you know yourself.

"Where are you hiding, Honeybee?" you mutter, looking for Jill's mare.

"Guess you're still as impatient as ever."

That voice makes you freeze.

"We're going to have to work on that, sweetheart."

You don't need to turn around to know who it was but still, you do.

Leon stands at the opposite end of the stable, near the entrance, sunlight pouring in behind him. He has one hand resting against the doorframe, while the other gently strokes Honeybee's neck as she nudges him insistently with her muzzle, almost as if trying to tell him an intruder's arrived.

That, of course, catches Leon's attention.

He looks up and, after a long time, he feels a relief he can't quite explain.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Pure instinct," you think while doing exactly the same as him: smiling as you haven't done in a long, long time.

The second you realize you're doing that, you immediately lower your head, heat rising to your cheeks.

Neither of you move or speak until the sheriff clears his throat, making you look back up immediately, your eyes finding each other again.

"Hi," he says.

"Hey..."

Silence settles between you once again, though this time it feels way much heavier.

Leon lets out a sigh and looks away for a moment, trying to come up with something to say to his best friend.

"Former best friend", he forces to remind himself, considering how things ended between you, all because of him.

"It's been a while," it's all Kennedy can say.

Your lips part before you hesitate. What are you even supposed to say to that?

You know Leon, really know him, and you're sure that there isn't an ounce of sarcasm hidden in his words.

"Yeah..." you let out an awkward laugh. "I could say the same thing. How long's it been now? Six years?"

Leon laughs quietly, that bittersweet feeling taking over him.

He rubs the back of his neck, trying not to get more nervous and letting silence settle between you once again. He doesn't know what else he can say to you, so he focuses on leading Honeybee into her stall, stealing occasional glances toward you, still standing right beside Chestnut.

Before he can even stop it from coming, the memory crashes into him.

His graduation from the police academy. That ridiculously long ceremony in where he was forced to shake more hands in a single afternoon than he had in the rest of his life combined.

He remembered watching you laughing with Claire, while Chris excitedly told him you'd been accepted into an internship at one of New York's best equine veterinary clinics.

The same application Leon'd helped you fill out, and the same internship that'd take you away in just a couple of weeks. Funny enough, the same weeks he thought about asking you to go on vacation and, finally, confess his feelings to you.

Leon swallows hard, dragging himself back to the present.

"How've you been?" is all he says.

You take your time to answer, carefully deciding what you should tell him and what you shouldn't.

"I've been... Good, I guess. Bussy," you smile faintly. "New York is..." she searched for the right word. "Stressful. Between you and I... it's quite overrated."

Leon smiles.

"You've always been a Cedar Creek girl. I guess that, no matter how far you go, you always find a way back home."

"And what about you?" you ask quickly, refusing to dwell on his words.

"Busy as well," he shrugs. "If you'd told me two years ago I'd leave RPD to become a full-time sheriff here... Not to mention that now, apparently, I'm spending half my life around horses again, just like when we were teens," he adds, his smile widening. "Hopefully, this time it'll be a little less chaotic considering we're only training them."

That earns a laugh from you. A real one.

Leon rests his arms on a bale of hay before hoisting himself up to sit on top of it.

Without even thinking, he holds out a hand toward you, the exact same gesture he's made countless times when you were teenagers.

You simply shake her head, politely refusing. Leon's hand lingeres in the air for the briefest moment before he quietly lets it fall.

"I've heard things have been going great for you," he says, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees.

Your expression changes instantly, which doesn't surprise Leon.

Of course, Leon knows what your life's been, just as you know exactly how his has been after you went your separate ways.

"Sure..." he says after not getting a reply. A brief silence follows before he dares to speak again. "So..." he rubs the back of his neck. "I've been wondering something ever since Claire told me you were coming back." 

Leon's eyes find yours, and you swear you feel the same way as when you were 16 and deep down for him. 

"What makes someone like you leave a place like this, get the opportunity of her life at one of the best veterinary clinics in New York, and then choose to come back to a shitty town that barely has any future for young people like us?"

Once again, you know there isn't a trace of malice behind his question, just mere concern. But, deep down, there's something inside you that makes you think otherwise.

A lump forms in your throat while you force yourself to stop thinking bad about Leon.

You know all too well that, no matter the way your story ended, Leon still cares about you, and there's no bad blood between you.

"Claire called," you answer calmly, not letting your feelings take over your. "It felt a good opportunity to come back," you offer a small smile. "I get to help her, Chris, and also my parents. You know I'll always be one call away from the people who need me."

"I know that first hand, yeah."

"I also missed my parents," you add quickly, refusing to let another heavy silence settle between you. "And Ben wanted us to slow our lives down a little, so we thought it'd be nice to move somewhere quieter," you force a smile after saying that. "So... I guess stars just aligned."

You know Leon well enough to notice the subtle shift in his expression the moment you mentioned her boyfriend. It's that subtle that most people never would've caught it, but you do. 

You let out a sigh, not sure whether that makes you uncomfortable or disappointed.

Leon, of course, knows who Ben is, all thanks to your social media. For the past year and a half, he's watched your photos appear every few weeks, all of them of perfect dates you seemed to brag about in perfectly written captions.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't quite explain why your smile seemed a little dimmer every time you posted a new photo. And not to mention the light in your eyes... The dark circles beneath them... 

He shouldn't have noticed anything, but it was your light fading away as time went by.

Leon forces himself to stop overthinking about a relationship that isn't his and he had no idea about. He steps down from the hay bale and goes straight to Honeybee, who immediately nudges his arm the moment he reaches her.

Leon smiles faintly and begins stroking her forehead.

You notice the tension settling in his jaw and shoulders, as well as how, so out of nowhere,  he seems incapable of looking at you again.

"I should get going," you say, a bit overwhelmed, plastering on a smile. "I still have to get familiar with everything again. And I should probably go over to Claire's to talk about the contract," she added.

Excuses. Every single one of them are simply stupid excuses so that you can get out of there as soon as possible, and Leon knows it.

"Yeah," he simply says, looking up at you immediately. "Of course. No worries."

He clears his throat, cursing himself for not knowing how to keep the conversation alive.

When you realize his attention's drifted back to the mere, you turn back toward the doors before you dare to open your mouth and say something you don't want to.

"Y/N?"

You just turn your head enough to look back at him over your shoulder.

"I'm really glad you're back home." 

Leon's voice's quiet and honest, which makes everything feel way worse.

"I've missed having you around."

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