I WANNA WATCH THEM GET MARRIEDDDD - Tumblr Posts

Musings of a Fool in Love

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 1k+

warnings: none, sfw, just a sweet moment of both seriously and not seriously discussing marriage, thinking about what it means to exist in perpetuity with another person

I wanted to do something sweet especially after all the angst ive been inflicting on everyone <3 so here's a lil thing inspired by the old love songs I was listening to this morning. (i also didn't have a specific iteration of him in mind for this so it can be interpreted with whichever one you want) if there's mistakes I simply pretend i do not see lol

Soft chords of music fill the apartment, the last dregs of daylight washing you both in hues of honey gold and peach tinged pink, catching in his softly focused blue eyes like those novelty crystals that sit on their tiny, LED powered pedestals refracting the manmade light an infinite number of times. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, the hand lightly holding yours giving a gentle squeeze while the other remains restfully perched on your hip as you bodies move slowly with the melody. 

You don’t speak immediately, relishing in how he looks at this moment and contemplating dodging the question. It’s silly, nonsensical but just serious enough that it could shatter this dreamlike moment, leaving it as insubstantial as the last twinges of a dream that cling to the mind like a mist. But you decide against subterfuge, willing to risk cracking the tranquility apart. 

“I was thinking about what it would be like to get married.”

There’s no dramatic pause, he doesn’t bring your combined motion to a halt; that doesn’t stop his expression from changing although not into what you expected. Leon gives you a soft smile, hesitant, but seemingly chooses to indulge your line of thought.

“What about getting married?” His tone is hushed, like you’re two children whispering secrets and it makes you giggly, nervousness bubbling in your throat like a bird flapping it’s wings against it’s cage. 

“Just… What it would be like.” You shrug, shyness wrapping around your body like spectral hands. The wine you’d indulge in at dinner encouraging heat the spread lazily beneath your skin.

“What do you think it would be like?”

You could hold his gaze forever, you think. Maybe forever does exist that way: two people who live in one anothers faces, and you think again of those childhood crystals with their dazzling displays of endless light frozen inside. 

“Hm, something like this, I think.” 

“No specifics?” He teases you, extending the hand that holds yours to make room for you to lightly spin, laughing a little bit louder now. 

“You’d hate them,” You say through more glittering peels of laughter.

“Mm, try me.”

“I’m picturing something like a courthouse, nothing as imposing as a cathedral or a big church.”

“How romantic,” He gives you a faux roll of his eyes, still smiling. 

“Do you want a cathedral, a church?” You ask, genuinely curious now. 

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I guess all that would matter is that you’re there.”

“Now who’s the sappy romantic?” It’s your turn to tease him and he takes it in stride, drawing you in and placing a wet, exaggerated kiss on your cheek that makes you dissolve into yet more unbridled giggles. 

“And what else?” He encourages, the hand on your hip traveling to rest comfortably, solidly against your lower back. 

You pretend to eye him critically before continuing. “I could wear some gaudy dress shaped like a puff pastery.”

That makes him laugh, a full body, bone deep laugh, the kind that makes satisfaction ooze through your own form, warm and sticky as maple syrup and you can’t help but resume your own silvery laughter. The sounds of your mingled gasps for air against the rush of joy mixes with the song, a unique sound that is wholly, unequivocally yours. 

“You’d be the most beautiful puff pastry.”

And despite the absurdity of that sentence you can’t help the swell of adoration in your chest, can’t help but press kiss after kiss against his lips until you’ve both stopped moving, his eyes roaming your face in soft attentiveness as your fingertips brush against his jaw and the sound of music is drowned out by your mingled breaths. 

He brings your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses so chaste, so sweet they make your teeth ache as he makes his way from your knuckles to your inner wrist. His breath fanning across your skin grips you in a sudden lightheadedness and your heart pounds so hard you think there’s no way he can’t also hear its reckless rhythm. 

“If I asked you right now, would you say yes?” 

And all is quiet. Gone is the overpowering sound of your heart, the soft twinkle of music, the sound of breath leaving body. The question hangs frozen, suspended in the air between you two like a single perfect, encapsulated snowflake. 

“I would always say yes to you,’’ Your voice breaks, just the tiniest fraction of a crack and he huffs out another low breath of laughter, pressing your wrist to his lips with more firmness, more intensity present than before. Slowly he lowers your arm, holding your hand once more and resting his forehead against yours, searching for something in your wide eyed gaze. 

The quiet that descends on you doesn’t do so as a threat, not with speed nor discomforting awkwardness. It’s the quiet of two lovers, content to rest in the moment with one another before moving to the next. 

“There’s no rush,” You whisper, your voice a tender, furtive thing not unlike a newly hatched little bird hesitantly peeking into the sunlight for the first time. 

And your words bleed out around the tiny little living room, like dye dropped into water, spreading and curling into even the farthest corners of your apartment as your eyes close and you tuck your neck against his chest, neither of you moving and it’s wholly possible that you could stay that way for an eternity, ivy growing thick and wild as it winds around your legs, drips down your fingertips, takes the place of your hair. 

Maybe eternity only exists in the fleetest, most foolish of moments. 

“You’re right. And it would be disappointing, getting proposed to with no ring.”

“You could give me one of those candy ones,” you say without moving from his chest and you feel more than hear the light chuckle it earns you.

“We’ve gotta work on your taste.”

“Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I mean, look at your choice of man.”

At that you laugh again and the motion of your bodies resumes along with the music, in the lamplight glow of evening now, that perfect glimpse of eternity resting in the cradle of your memory.