#i suck at tagging idk if you liked it consider rbing

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Three Times Leon Protected You (And One Time You Protected Him)

Note: Requested by anon (sort of)! This was fun as hell to write. Also fuck it no read more cut I'm on mobile

Content: cursing, 18+, Leon Kennedy x Gn Reader, they/them reader pronouns, protective Leon, light violence

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1. It was your second date together. You two decided to hit up the mini golf course off the highway. Gorging yourselves on bagged cotton candy, you two made light conversation about your hobbies and the most recent summer blockbuster. He was better at mini golf. By, like, a lot. His aim and timing was uncanny, and his force control was honestly impressive. He was totally winning.

You bent down to pick up another losing ball when a hissing whump sound right next to your ear made you stumble backwards. Leon's fist was curled away from you just centimeters away from where your head had just been. He relaxed it, and a golf ball fell out of his hand. It must have been travelling fast from the sound of it, but the only sign of discomfort that he gave was shaking out his hand. Shit, that thing really could have taken a chunk outta your head, and he just snatched it out of thin air like it was nothing.

"Pretty sure you just saved my life," you say with a smile.

"Does that guarantee a third date?"

-----

2. You two had been together, officially, for about two years. It was your birthday, and none of your friends could make it. It wasn't an act of cruelty, they simply had careers and families, some even had kids now! No one wanted to come out on a Sunday night and have to go to work or deal with a toddler in the morning. It still stung, but Leon did his best to make sure you had a good night anyways. He took you to a fancy cocktail bar where you got too drunk on cocktails with names like Private Dancer and Moonlit Night. Leon was paying while you waited by the door, keeping watch for the cab home. Some dude in a loud shirt with the popped collar started hitting on you. You roll your eyes and tell him your husband is paying, hoping the h-word would scare him off, but Frosted Tips was determined. He was drunk too, red-faced and uneven of stance, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. His hand lands on your hip. The action, so intimate it was reserved for Leon only, made you freeze. You push his hand away, but his other comes up, closing the space. Your body turns to stone, wanting to push him off but the weight of his presence pinning you down, hoping if you're still enough he'll give up and leave.

Leon's on him, as suddenly and ferociously as a crack of lightning. His hand is on Too Dark Spray Tan's shoulder, shoving him away. Your boyfriend slides in the space between the two of you. He was an immovable wall keeping you safe. His shoulders were taught, and despite also being nearly blind drunk, he was firm and purposeful. Controlled. You couldn't see his face from your position behind him, but the tautness in his back and the even spread of his legs confirmed how serious he was. The dude harassing you shut down, muttering a homophobic comment.

Leon turned back to you, his hand gently on your shoulder. His eyes tracked the dude across the room like an owl tracking prey, but when he finally tore his eyes away and met your own, his expression softened immediately.

"You okay?" He asks, soft. Concerned.

"Better now."

You mean it. You know you're safe with him.

-----

3. It takes six years of you two being together for his past to catch up to him. At first, you think the riots are associated with a recent political move. It doesn't take long on your daily commute to work to realize this is worse. Something is making people violent. You get to work, mostly because you're too far from home when you realize how fucking bad things are to turn around, and the intern goes berserk. You end up trapped in an office with your boss and a few others, armed with a broken wooden ruler and a stapler. The only thing between you and the raging... sick outside was a slim wooden door on one side and ten stories on the other side of a thick glass window. Your cell gets through to Leon and he orders you to stay in place.

"I'll come get you, just don't move unless you have to," he says. You put your phone on silent.

Things were already pretty bad. They get a whole lot worse when a blond man with a high brow and sunglasses strolls through the chaos like a composer across a stage. He's wearing a leather jacket and, if you didn't have the sinking feeling he was after you, you might have made a joke about him belonging on the set of the Matrix. He grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the office, the world parting around him like river around a rock. He takes you to the roof and it's there that a helicopter descends. Stepping off it is... Leon?

"What the fuck?" You stare at him, dressed in tactical gear and a big fucking gun in his hands. You aren't sure it's really him, except for the way his eyes soften when they meet yours.

"Oh, don't they know?" The blonde gripping your arm asks, squeezing hard enough you're afraid he'll crack the bone.

"Wesker..." Leon inches forward, one hand leaving his gun to stretch out between the two of them. "Let's just talk this through."

"You're not a cop anymore, Kennedy."

Leon doesn't flinch. His expression hardens, a cold look you've never seen on him takes the place of any softness once there.

"Don't make me do this the hard way," he says. He's continuing to inch forward.

You realize what he's doing.

"Then let's discuss the easy option," Wesker's voice is monotone - almost robotic. "I give them back, unharmed, and you give me Chambers."

"What do you need with her?" Leon takes another tentative step forward.

"I'm going to use her to complete my S-Virus -"

"You're gonna run out of letters one day," he jokes, or something similar to joking, if it weren't utterly humorless. "You know, the whole virus thing hasn't worked the last twelve times. Maybe it's time to change career paths."

"This is unlike any before -"

"Have you ever considered dog grooming? I think it would be healthier for you."

Another inch. Wesker doesn't even realize how close Leon's gotten.

"I could kill them without breaking a sweat and you're still-"

BAM.

Wesker's head flies back with a sharp crack. You use the moment to slip out of his grasp and run towards Leon. He's ushering you towards the helicopter. You turn towards him to yell at him, thinking yourself safe, when you see it behind his shoulder. Wesker's back was arched slightly back, but he was still standing. You feel your eyes widen in terror as something slimy and black and living throbs out of his forehead. He's slowly righting himself.

"Get mad at me later," Leon says. He takes aim, walking backwards, firing into Wesker's body. He casts the occasional glance at you to make sure you're safe behind him until you're on the helicopter.

----

1. Fifteen years together. After the Wesker Event, you were given clearance to know everything Leon did. The US Government had you sign a form essentially giving them permission to kill you if you said anything (not in as many words, of course). You learned combat basics, but Leon insisted on keeping you out of the thick of it. So, despite knowing the horrors that awaited your husband everytime he went on a mission, despite watching the darkness in his eyes grow, you stayed at home. Pursued a career in something safe, did laundry, took care of the dog until Leon got home and then you cooked dinner for the two of you. You were the harbour in the storm.

Until you got a call from a hospital in DC that your husband was injured in combat. You were escorted by two women in suits across the country, and by the next morning, you found yourself in a quarantined hospital face to face with some fucking decorated general denying you permission to even look at him.

"What was the point of calling me down here?! Let me fucking see him!" You're causing a scene. You know it. But the rage batters against your rib cage like a wild beast.

"Si-... Mx, I need you to calm down," he says.

"Calm down?!" You take a deep breath, about ready to scream, when a warm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Redfield, battered and tired and... Old. He shakes his head. You chew your words.

"He was injured during combat with a BOW. He may be infected. Letting you in could risk not only your safety, but the world's."

"He isn't a risk to me." You push past the general. You shove the doors to his room wide open, desperate to just see him for yourself.

You aren't prepared for how bad he looks. His face is swollen almost beyond recognition, his body laying with a limpness he didn't even have when he was asleep. If it weren't for how well you knew the birthmarks and freckles on his body, you would almost believe it wasn't him.

Soliders are rushing in to drag you out but Redfield steps in. You've made your choice, he tells them. If Leon wakes up and eats you, that was on you.

For days, you meet with doctors and officials and suits. He might never wake up, the doctors tell you. He's a danger to public safety, the officials tell you. You overhear the suits talking about the possibility of putting him down while he's defenseless.

They were really going to kill him in a coma because of what he might be infected with.

That is when you stepped up as his guardian. You meet with doctors from all over the world, military lawyers, philosophers. You spend weeks worth of time tied up on the phone, and days worth signing papers (and not signing papers). You get seven different doctors from seven different countries to examine him and confirm his vitals are all normal and expected for someone in his condition. Dr. Chambers herself confirms there isn't a trace of G-virus or any of its daughter strains in him.

You build your case. The logical argument is that there is no empirical evidence that Leon is a threat, backed up by thorough medical reports and several professional witnesses. The moral argument: it was morally wrong to kill a defenseless man because he might be a threat if he wakes up. Not even the government should have that power. The empathetic argument came last.

"Give me five minutes in front of a judge and jury, and I can convince them the only person who can pull the plug is his spouse."

You liquidated a lot of assets, keeping a humble apartment and your dog. You got permission to crack open his bank account to pay for the lawyers, seeing as you were his spouse, and the bank couldn't argue that. It was about a year in when you got a call from an enigmatic woman - you'd later figure out was Wong, on your way to work that the government was planning to just collapse that entire wing of the hospital. You called Redfield, had him post up there when you couldn't be there.

When he was sent away, strategically, you called in the other Redfield. Valentine. Piers. Helena. Everyone you could get your hands on. You called in every favour Leon was owed and then you made you own. And when, one after the other, they were forced away, you hired a friend of Wong's.

It took years. It exhausted everything you had, but even when you felt like giving up, you were immovable. You were his spouse. You would not leave his side until it killed you. And even then, Redfield was pretty sure you'd haunt the hospital.

You won the court case. It brought some relief. Leon wasn't under threat of being murdered. But, it came with sinking disappointment too. There was nothing left to do now except sit with him, and wait. That was the worst part of those long years. The silent, still weeks in a sterile room with a victory that still didn't return your husband to you.

It was just before your twentieth anniversary that he finally woke up. You made sure you were the first person he saw, and you stayed by his side through the ensuing mess of tests and rehabilitation. You slowly revealed the extent you had to go to keep him safe. He seemed so impressed with you. He calls you his hero after that, though you don't really think you deserve it. You convince him to retire. And you two live out the rest of your lives safe and content, protecting each other in the ways you knew how to.

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy fanfic #protective leon #i suck at tagging idk if you liked it consider rbing #anyways! i hope you enjoy it anon!

[stinkrascal]

I think no one likes my tav :( I love that simblrs began to share other games like bg3! And the small amount that does it sticks together! They reblog each other's bg3 posts, do art for them, put cute tags to support each other, so nice to see!! I really want to be part of that, but no one seems to actually like the bg3 stuff I post🥹 do you have any advice for me?

hi anon, i'm sorry you're feeling this way :( to be honest i don't really know what could be causing ppl to overlook your posts. idk what advice i could give you bc some of my bg3 posts do really really well, and some of them get like maybe 5 notes depending on what time and what day i post 🙈 but please dm me if you like i'd love to follow u if i don't already!! i love rbing bg3 posts on my blog i'd love to rb your posts too! i want everyone to feel included in this community you know ;-; even if you don't feel like your posts get enough attention i promise that isn't an indication of you not being wanted in this community!! it just means you haven't found your audience yet, and that's totally ok. it took me many years of posting consistently on simblr before i found ppl who were interested in my silly video game screenshots and tbh i feel major imposter syndrome for even saying that like jade stfu what do u mean ppl care about your screenshots no they dont😭 so like idk. for me when i get really worked up about feeling like nobody cares about what i post i just try to like......... make a circle of a few mutuals whose opinions i really cherish and every time they interact with my posts in any capacity, liking, commenting, reblogging, etc, i consider that post a win lol. be like "oh well my circle of elite mutuals all liked this post that means this post is pretty cool isnt it!!" lol that sounds silly but it helped a lot for me, bc i was really prone to getting myself in these cycles where i felt like if my posts didnt hit a certain note count that means i suck and nobody likes my stuff and thats a sucky way to feel you know!! and like i don't really know how i can optimze your note count for you, idek how i optimize my own, at this point ive given up on that endeavor bc it just puts too much weird pressure on myself to live up to an arbitrary and unreachable standard. but i think trying 2 reframe the way you think about this situation is just as helpful, it was really helpful for me at least. obv i think tumblr is a place where our posts SHOULD be shared ie reblogging stuff!! and i always always always encourage people to reblog posts bc thats how our community grows and flourishes, thats literally how tumblr has to function to survive so DO IT!! but also with all that being said, it will be better for u in the long run if you don't put a lot of pressure on yourself to hit a certain note count to be a valid participant in this community, instead make it about the love of sharing your creations online, and being content w the fact that your creations are still cool even if it didn't hit a certain level of engagement u desired!! and you know what, when you start loving and passionately posting about your creations, ppl pick up on that excitement. they get excited too!! and then before you know it you do have a community of support! so please dont unduly stress yourself my friend. does this make any sense. idk. YOU GOT THIS ANON I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!

#jade answers #Anonymous #sorry my brain is a fried egg rn. advice escapes me but ily u got this anon!!