Leon Kennedy Drabble - Blog Posts

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE THE COLOR PINK AND HOW MUCH PINK CLOTHING AND SHIT I HAVE.

𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗚𝗙.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘣𝘧 𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘛𝘖𝘖𝘛𝘏 𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘍𝘓𝘜𝘍𝘍, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘛, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘚𝘜𝘎𝘎𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘺, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦?

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

leon's life, let's say, is devoid of all pink shades and carefreeness is almost complete,wherever he is, he is haunted by grayness, and the tones of his usual clothes are also not selective in brightness but rather lean toward black and blue, not to mention the fact that the events in his life as such are also not rosy, not at all.

but all the missing pink shades were added to him by you, and he damnably adored you, your pink clothes, cosmetic accessories, elements of home comfort, you instantly colored his life with your presence, starting with the image and ending with the details that gradually formed in his apartment — pink pillows, plush toys, sheets, brushes, shower gel with some incredibly sweet scent? everything he didn't have.

leon himself did not notice how the gentle shade began to attract him, although to be more precise, he was attracted to you, and the color was just a pleasant coloring of his everyday life, he treated you as he saw you, with a funny insistence that because of all this you reminded him of a princess, that’s why he behaved appropriately with you, gentle kisses, gentle touches, carrying you in his arms and trying to keep you from any danger, like a porcelain doll, afraid that an extra word, action or movement — would break you.

he looked with adoration when you bought some new clothes with him, a bunch of frills on blouses and skirts, some charming stockings and shoes, and not necessarily something open, sometimes it could be long sleeve shirts, jeans, with some particularly cute print and pink color, showing him things and trying them on yourself, listening to the approving hums, looking into his burning blue eyes and listening to how he continually, unable to restrain himself, showered you with compliments, asking you to twirl — «have a best girlfriend in the world, hmm? such a pretty dollie, such a gorgeous girl, twirl for me darling, would you?»

there were times when you both sat in the living room on the weekend, you on a soft sofa with your legs apart and with some kind of cosmetic mask on your face, while leon sat on the carpet between your spaced plush thighs, his dark strands collected with a soft bandana as you carefully placed the same mask you wore on his face, despite the fact that his skin was usually incredibly clear, you wanted him to relax with you, even if it meant listening to his mumbled complaints — «sweetheart, i don't think it's.. uh.. for me»

but you just frown in response, pouting a little and muttering with feigned resentment in your voice — «want you to be pretty with me» and how can he say no to that? a slightly rough laugh immediately sounds under your ear and he waves his head slightly, still allowing you to carefully and evenly place the fabric mask on his face to get into the cutouts, when he looks into your eyes and slightly stretches out his lips like a tube, beckoning you to kiss him, to which you immediately smile and softly peck him on the lips, fidgeting with your nose against his with a pleased look, carefully holding the mask on your own face.

leon also loved to take warm baths with you, he never thought that bathing in aromatic oils and pink foam with the scent of cherry could relax so much, and how wrong he was, because as soon as he settled into a ceramic bath and your warm body pressed against his, settling between his legs, he immediately wearily buries his nose in the back of your neck, causing you to giggle lightly from the tickling as he squeezes you like a plush toy, feeling how the tension in his muscles gradually seems to dissolve.

he allows you to rub fragrant oils into his shoulders, massaging in circular motions and watching as his eyelashes flutter, closing his blue eyes that practically roll back when you move along his arms, sitting to face him and allowing him to soon hide in your damp shoulder, going limp and making relieved moans every time you massaged the knots in his muscles, devoting all your time to caring for your beloved man, wash his dark mop of hair for him, scratching and massaging, knowing that he will definitely return everything, as soon as he'd regain a little from complete relaxation.

leon will feel guilty if he doesn’t return the favor, so don’t expect that you will leave the bathroom until he washes you in return, his warm calloused palms covered with pinkish foam gently fidget over your soft body, gently massaging your shoulders and shamelessly going down to your tender breasts, squeezing and not hesitating to tease, running over your slightly erect and hard nipples, lightly squeezing them and rubbing them with his pads, making you let out a slight whine and jerk your legs, murmuring — «l-lee! mmh, n-not fair, i wanted you to relax!»

he just laughs, finding your words and desire to take care of him charming, as if it seems to you that he will fall apart if he overexerts himself, and how can he restrain himself when you are sitting between his legs so beautiful, with wet shiny skin, he can’t restrain himself while being next to you, always touching, kissing, and in the end it all ends in slow sex, but your desire is the law and he doesn’t want to upset you, so with a short kiss on the curve of your neck, he removes his hands from your body so that instead wash your hair, he can do at least something, right?

he knew that after the bath you would definitely go to bed where dusty pinkish bed linens, fluffy blankets and a couple of your plush toys would be waiting for him, a wide contrast to how his bedroom used to look, two pillows and some gray or blue sheets, but now everything smelled of comfort, as well as the soft notes of floral laundry conditioner, he loved what his life had become, he loved falling asleep and waking up in this bed with you, holding you close to him every night, like hugging a plush toy.

usually he sleeps buried in your chest or neck, the closer the better, happy when you lay in his arms as if curled up and he could snuggle closer to your warmth and scent, and be that as it may, his sleep next to you is like a baby’s, he wakes up much more relaxed and cheerful, he’s really damn grateful to you for embellishing his life, and, well, he can afford a little whim in honor of gratitude, right?

especially when you're lying there in one of your adorable nighties, the soft fabric flowing over your body, and underneath there's definitely an adorable pair of panties just for him, so you won't mind too much if he settles between your soft legs and pulls them down, maybe just pushes them away to the side, making sure to find the wet folds and twitching clit bud, letting your fingers bury themselves in his fluffy strands, as baby blues eyes look at you with a slight smile on his handsome face and he whispers softly, making you clench and gush around nothing — «let me take care of you, pretty girl? wanna thank you properly for all your care»

of course you agree, spreading your legs wider and letting him wrap his arms around them for comfort, briefly lifting up to kiss your lips and rosy cheeks, before delve in ‹𝟹

I am a SUCKER for hanahaki disease. I gotta spend more time writing man. I also wanna draw Leon throwing up flowers

forget-me-nots snippet | leon k.

genre(s): angst, romance, modern au warning(s): hanahaki disease trope, unrequited feelings, self-loathing, stream of consciousness, language music inspo: adieu - emily bindiger

It was cute, really—how he thought he was getting away with sneaking glances at a certain former femme fatale.

Like his jaw wasn’t already well-acquainted with the floor whenever a familiar shock of scarlet stained the scene.

She—being one Ada Wong—had sashayed past your table with her lips painted rouge. Carried the scent of jasmine and danger with her, placing a nimble hand on Leon’s shoulder. Coupled it with a well-placed wink and a “See you later, handsome,” crooned in that seductive voice that never failed to derail him—never failed to sink your heart into the deepest reaches of your stomach. 

You wanted to hate her. Honestly, you did. But you couldn’t find it within yourself since she’d reformed and joined the agency. Turned her back on the life of debauchery in favor of something straighter-edged.

And it didn’t help that Ada was…surprisingly kind. Resourceful. Charismatic. Professional. And Leon speaking life into her name like the enchanted soul he was, swayed you further away from your road of disdain when it came to her.

The hearts haloing his head were palpable.

You could touch them if you wanted. Reach out and flick those cartoonish little things, and Leon’s eyes swirled with them, stained all shades of lovey-dovey. The sight of his longing made you hide a snicker behind your hand, and your heart burn cold.

Leon’s attention snapped to you. All traces of that puppylike infatuation were replaced by mild amusement. Over the sultry croon of the songstress onstage, beneath the sepia glow of the chandelier overhead, his brow quirked with a question.

“What’s so funny?” 

The bass of his voice rattled your bones. Enamored you. Always did, drawing your elbows onto the table and your chin atop folded hands. Something in your chest pulsed and pinched, but you masked the throb of it with a teasing smirk.

With a deep sigh pushing through your nostrils, you searched the stratosphere of Leon’s eyes. Admired his features as he maneuvered himself to mirror you on the table. A habit you’d both acquired through your years as partners. Anyone passing would mistake you both for being two pining fools. Though, they wouldn’t be too far off in their assumption.

“Nothin’. Just wish someone would look at me like that.” Despite the tease your voice carried, sadness sank between the vowels and consonants.

Really, you did want him to look at you like that. But you knew you’d never hold a place in Leon’s heart. Not like she did. Could never imagine Leon shuffling around those feelings to make room for someone as plain as you.

Leon blinked a few times. A subtle shade of peach dusted his cheeks. He broke eye contact, taking to fiddling with a wrinkle on the tablecloth as a subdued smile rounded his lips.

Shy was something foreign for your partner. Manly, precise, and goofy were not. He was always so sure of himself. Purposeful in every word, and every action, with a terrible pun or two sprinkled in to break up the monotony of the moment.

So imagine your surprise when Leon Scott-fucking-Kennedy sat amid the liveliness of the ballroom, tucking his bashfulness into the collar of his dress shirt like a boy caught rifling through the cookie jar.

The notion of someone else making butterflies swarm in Leon’s stomach made your chest grow tighter. And a pressure akin to thorns sank into the column of your throat, grazing downward until your trachea grew raw and your chest pulsed again with liquid fire.

It would never be you, would it? Could never be you, right?

“Dunno what you’re on about,” Leon chuckled, anxiety residing in the depths of his voice. This avoidance: he wore it well. Still couldn’t look your way because he’d been caught red-handed, making googly eyes at the woman who haunted his dreams and tarnished yours.

You felt something hot drop into the pit of your belly. Felt your face twitch with the threat of a grimace, yet you brushed it off as quickly as it came.

“Oh, come on. You so wanna bone her right now.”

Leon huffed. Your eyes were trained on how his forearm muscles flexed beneath the polyester of his tux as he reached around the centerpiece for the bottle of Chardonnay. Dragged it from your side, settling it before him with a definitive clunk.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, little lady. I’m cuttin’ you off.”

It was hard to miss the humored glint of his eye. How he bowed forward in an easy slouch with his fingers laced together, relaxed because he was in the company of his partner. His friend. Nothing more. Never anything more. Your stomach gnarled and lurched, but you tamped it down like you did everything else.

Scoff. “I don’t think you’ve had enough, Mr. Kennedy,” you said, snatching the bottle back to top off your champagne flute. Lost count of how many glasses you had. Anything would suffice to drown out the cacophony of your thoughts. To muddle the sound of vines twisting together and—

Leon leaned back against his chair, dusting off the lapel of his jacket. “Tryna cut back.”

Your brow twitched. Surprising because Leon could throw back a bottle of whiskey like it were water.

“Oh? Would a certain vixen in red have something to do with that?”

He snorted, looking off to the side. “Ada? Nah, she’s…she’s cool.”