#your leon is such a sweet and protective dork i am JSDJDKSk

[90sbee]

HELLO THIS IS AMAZING !!!!! HELP !!!! your writing is a dream holy shit. Wow WOW !!

I really wish i could say something else but damn DAMN... no words are enough, istg. Not getting over this any time soon !!!

Leon Kennedy Being Protective Would Include...

Request: Hi there!! I saw you were open for Resident Evil requests, and I was wondering if I could request some angry headcanons of Leon being protective of an injured reader maybe?

Sure my lovely! I can't wait to see Death Island, I've missed seeing Chris and Jill together ;3

It's been a little while since I've written so forgive me if this is a jumbled mess, I'm trying :')

Warning: very very slightly spicy! Mentions of injury/blood and a little strong language!

(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @halfwayriight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I hope y'all don't mind I write for RE4 Leon because PHEW this man just keeps getting finer and finer please-

Being sent to rescue the President's daughter in a remote rural Spanish village wasn't exactly how you figured the few weeks after yours and Leon's engagement would go, but considering your track record you probably should have seen it coming. Ever since the two of you survived the horrifying events of Raccoon City nearly seven years ago, Leon had refused to leave your side for a moment. Wanted to run out and grab groceries while Leon had finally, after hours and hours of arduous training had crashed out on the couch? Too bad! The blanket you had tucked around his waist is soon flung to the floor, a sixth sense ringing in the back of his head that you were leaving, and soon you can hear the soft patter of his socks as he runs to pull his trainers on and follow out the door after you. Krauser wanted to match the two of you up with separate trainees during your sparring matches? Too bad! Leon mutters and argues with him in the corner of the training ground until he swings with a big grin over to you, using the session as an excuse to try and pin you to the wall, or the ground as often as he good, his thick bicep wrapping around the arch of your back until you were trapped impossibly close to his panting mouth.

I mean, he is a giant dork so be ready for a terrible, absolutely cheesy beyond belief one liner. His breath glances behind the shell of your ear as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but his bicep flexes tightly in time, keeping you squarely pressed up against his abdomen. The tip of his knife clashes against your own, propelling you backwards and only further into his eager hands. You should see his face: despite how hard and soul destroying he finds the agent training, the look of absolute delight that crinkles in the corners of his eyes and raises the edges of his usually sullen lips could rival the ferocity of the sun. That's the effect you have on him: enough to bring weaker men to their knees. Enough that he would travel through hell for eternity, relieve the nightmares he wakes up mewling from each night, if only to feel your heartbeat pressed up against his flushed skin.

'Well beautiful, looks like you're caught between a knife and a hard place.'

Although he moves with you, you can feel a slight bulge begin to form in his cargo pants anytime your hips pulse back against his own. 'And you, Rookie', you murmur out, enjoying the way his stomach seems to warm against you at the words: the way you can feel his heartrate spike. 'Should stop moving your mouth and instead look at your feet.'

His eyes widen in surprised horror as you use the heel of your right boot to kick out his feet from beneath him, legs flying up in the air as you use your weight to knock him onto the matt behind his ass. You can't help but bust out laughing at the way he lands on his back like a little bug, holding out a hand to help him back up. You should have known that wasn't going to happen from the shit eating grin that stormed across his face as soon as his fingers grasped against your own, but when you face planted into his neck, your legs bracing themselves by landing tightly around his thighs, neither of you were complaining. Well, until Krauser gave you both clean up duty for messing around, but it was well worth it.

As you're piling away stocks of boot knives back into their correct storage cases, you feel the soft bump of Leon's hip hit against your own; despite being berated in front of all your fellow agents, he was still glowing. You sigh, hitting the back of his shoulder. 'I must really love you, you know that?'

His face whips around, mouth dropping open in mild shock as he blinks at you. 'That reminds me, I haven't told you I love you today!'

'Leon, you did at breakfast, in the canteen remember? And in the changing room. And when I left to use the bathroom', you start to count on your fingers, ignoring Leon who's trying to pull at your hands and tug your attention back to him. 'And when we started clearing up!' He just ducks between your arms, starting to chuckle as he reaches up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

'Well, I still do love you. More than anything.'

When the two of you had received the orders for your current mission, Leon was more than relieved to be coming as your partner. It also meant, though, that during the whole drive up the rickety country lanes, your tired stupors gazing out at the knobbly branches and half-dead roots of the surrounding countryside were disturbed by your fiancée constantly checking up on you. I mean, for the last hour you could find his eyes burning blazing holes into the side of your face, he spent every moment he wasn't flicking through the case files glancing at you behind bowed, wispy eyelashes. It was a continuous thing: catching his reflection admiring you as his irises rolled over your face before back down to his lap with a hoarse cough.

From time to time, when the Spanish police offers here to 'help' and 'accompany you' and 'give you anything you need' in your rescue of Ashley distract him with their hunched together heads and incessant whispering, you'll find him reaching over with a soft exhale to grab the edges of your fingers. He finds it grounding, comforting, to absentmindedly latch onto your hand and fiddle with the engagement ring on your finger; half the time he doesn't even realise you're doing it until he turns to you with surprised eyes, feeling you give his knuckles a reassuring squeeze. You're more than happy to share the adoring smile he bashfully sends your way, sliding his hand into your lap and rubbing your pointer finger tenderly over the scars on his palm.

When the two of you are attacked after a tumultuous journey to the main square of the village, you can barely side step the chickens clucking between your feet before Leon's jumped in front of you like a flailing shield. With arms spread wide like a flapping bird and a torso stiff enough you're surprised the hatchets don't just bounce off his pecs, he matches your every step like a shadows sewed onto your toes. It's almost like watching acrobatics, or more likely a circus act as you try your best to aim past Leon's head while he simultaneously uses his knife to stop a pitchfork from slamming into the side of your head. He's constantly dragging you over the shattered glass of window edges, kicking down ladders and pushing you behind him as he swoops his head out of the way of the oncoming chainsaw. Or worse, he uses his own body as a shield when the two of you have to jump off the roof of a hut you had become very conveniently stuck on, tucking you into his chest like a koala bear and rolling the two of you safely to a stop in a very stinky puddle of mud. He refuses to let you go until the Church bells stop ringing, and only then because he's nearly suffocating you with how tightly his arms are squeezed around your head.

On the lake, Leon is more than willing to let himself drown if it means saving you. When Del Lago tips over your rickety little raft, sending the two of you tumbling down into the imperceptible depths with a loud crash, alarm bells immediately start ringing in Leon's ears. He's not entirely sure if it's the shock of the freezing cold waves, or the way his whole body is nearly convulsing, doubled over in wracking shivers as he swims down into the deep to try and find you, but he manages in just the nick of time to grab onto your wrist and pull you out of the way of a set of mammoth gnashing teeth. He clumsily places his palms flat against the bottom of your ass, and nearly knocks the breath out of himself with how harshly he shoves you back into the boat in one fell swoop; so forcefully, in fact, that he nearly sends you ass over heels tumbling over the other side again. Your surprise is short lived, though, when you grab onto the edge of the rocking wood and peer over to see the fringes of Leon's hair floating almost serenely on the water's edge as he's dragged under.

Once you manage to haul him back up, you grit your teeth as he lands unceremoniously on your lap and clambers into a sitting position. Although he's trying his best to look calm, you can tell by the way he winces his head when you touch his knee that he's injured: the droplets of crimson that adorn your fingertips like the ink of a bleeding heart only consolidates the fact. You do your best to staunch it with your hand, reaching behind you with the other to try and steer the rudder over into the dock of a half collapsed-roof shelter, only to be distracted by the weight of Leon's torso resting against your heart. He literally does not give two shits about the fact that there's a pool of watery blood thrumming in time to the engine's hum as you drive forward, too busy cupping your cheeks with those fervent, gloved hands. His eyes are so wild, and oh so terrified as he checks you over, tilting your chin this way and that way as if to reassure himself. He's beginning to blink rapidly: an early sign that the trauma of your shared past is flooding into the locked away crevices of his head, and he's starting to panic.

His mouth blubbers open and shut, eyes falling sternly as he tries to stop himself from crumbling. As his shaking thumbs wipe some damp hair away from your eyes. As he stares deep into your eyes, the crying rookie you knew years ago locked behind his marred gaze. As his bottom lip trembles, like a man who nearly just lost everything... again.

'Are you alright?', he finally manages to choke out, as if the words are poison seeping out from the corners of his lips. He's terrified to say them: to know the answer, and yet he swallows thickly and repeats the question. 'Are you okay? Tell me your alright. Please.'

'Leon, sweetheart, I need to get the gauze out of my pack to try and stop your leg from falling off', you huff out with an exasperated light-heartedness, trying to make your fiancée smile again. Or in the least, loosen his grip on your cheeks so he didn't leave bruises. You knew what he was doing: back when the two of you were trapped within the enclosing walls of the Raccoon City Police Department, any time the two of you were separated, it would be the first question out of his mouth. His feet barely had time to stop themselves sliding across the floor, the hard material of his body armour nearly slamming into your chest as he wildly asked you. 'Are you alright?' Any time a licker grabbed at your ankle, any time an infected civilian pounced out of an unilluminated doorway to sink their teeth into the sweet flesh of your neck, as soon as the gunshot had finished reverbing through your head it would be the next thing you would hear.

'Are you okay?'

These days, the question usually fell into the night: a broken cry through the imposing isolation of twilight. When he would shoot up in bed, nearly scaring the wits end out of you until you realised what was going on. Glancing out into the dim shadows, you would blink languidly as Leon's hunched back, the juttering of the mattress quickly alerting you to the fact that he had his head tucked down into his hands, his hunched back tense as he cried. As you would sit up to rub at his back and guide him back down to bed, to rest his head down on top of you, his hands would scramble desperately until they reached yours. His bloodshot eyes were enough to send a jolt of fear spiking through your heart as his mouth fell open in heart-wrenching sob. 'Are you alright - are you alright? Are you real?'

It was almost enough to break you.

'Please, Y/n. I need to hear you say it.' Your drawn out of your thoughts by the feel of something damp landing on your fingertips. Leon was doing nothing to wipe them away, and so you finally relent and glance your eyes up to him. Soggy, shivering, a frown horrid enough to drive the devil out of hell, and wet eyes shining like fresh dew, the man arched before you was an enigma of multitudes. You could spot that frightened young boy in him, the one who had flushed crimson any time you had offered him his hand back at Raccoon City, lost somewhere within the hardened lines of the agent he had been berated to become.

You do the only thing in that moment the cogs in your brain can process: you pull him in for a hug. He falls easily against you, weightily, and you notice that he's not holding anything back as he rests the jut of his chin on your shoulder. He lets his hands fall until they're enclosed beneath the brackets of your arms, trying to squeeze his eyes shut and stop himself from whining when he feels the soft shapes you begin tracing over the wide expanse of his damp back.

And then you pass out? And Leon realises that you're infected too? That fear, that anguish he held in his heart suddenly revolved into fresh fury that coursed through every vein in his body. For a moment, as a cold shiver rolling through your tired body wakes you up, you can't figure out for the life of you where you are. Splintered wood seems to be scraping against the back of your legs, your hazy mind nearly lulled back to sleep by the sound of water gently lapping against the edge of the planks. It's only when you feel your head shift that you realise you're lying on Leon's thighs, whose looking down at you like the most heavenly cherub you've ever seen. He's biting his bottom lip, obviously conflicted, until he notices your awake and suddenly you're being tugged up as if you're a ragdoll. Before you can even say anything, Leon's pressing a dozen little pouty lipped kisses against every free inch of your face: drawing his bottom lip quickly over every line of cells that only a couple of minutes ago were tainted black with tendrils.

From then on, he tries not to show it. He tries not to belittle you, knowing you're as fully trained and even more competent than he is, but you're not stupid. You know Leon far too well, far too intimately, far too familiarly and easily for that. You notice the extra little touches here and there: a tighter grip by your hip bone when he gives you a lift up onto ledges, a clenched fist on your shoulder as he goes first through unlatched gates, magnum drawn at the ready as he points the red laser sight down into the cavernous mounds above the fish farm. The swifter, more intense glances whenever he notices you squeezing your fists shut, fingernails digging in and drawing blood as you try to stop the Plagas from burning up your forearm.

It's not until you reach the Castle's drawbridge that Leon's fury really starts to become physically visible. Even though Salazar had only been monitoring the two of you for a couple of hours, he was sharp enough to realise that Leon would raze the whole crumbling heap of a place to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. So what does he do? Clouds your mind, makes you a passenger to your own actions. As soon as your boot lands on the rubbled stones of the courtyard, Leon's swooping his head back as the point of your knife comes dashing towards his face, slicing a thin line across his eyebrow. He doesn't even blink as he races over to grab your arm, trying to pull you back against him as he had all those times in training, only to be met by your wicked grin. He was too slow: just out of reach as his gloved hand reaches out and shudders in horror as he watches you jam the tip of your knife into the soft skin of your side.

The wound is shallow, but it's enough to knock you out for the count. And for the rest of his life, Leon will spend every moment of every day blaming himself for it.

This man 100% gives you a piggyback, running like a wild mare through the bowels of the castle's barracks. He doesn't even seem to notice that a giant ass ogre is throwing huge boulders at his face, not even seeming to care as he leverages the full force of his body to kick out and send another hooded cultist tumbling over into the unfathomable abyss below. He doesn't even break a sweat as he uses his elbow to break the weight holding down the cannon, gripping onto the back of your thighs with clawing fingernails, as if he were trying to crawl into you, or die trying.

Once he's sure the two of you are safely within the Castle walls, he finally manages to catch Luis on his comms. Although you can't hear what he's saying, his knife edged tone cuts through the air as he mutters angrily, his shoulders hunched and tense. You piece together from where you're writhing in pain against the wall that he's 'persuading' Luis in a mildly threatening manner to meet the two of you in the cellars instead of the ballroom.

Luis steps back in surprise when he sees the two of you, not prepared to find Leon holding the agent that had nearly knocked him ass over heels a few hours ago being held bridle style in the man's arms. Leon refuses to let Luis carry you, and so the two finally compromise by you staying tight against Leon's chest, and Luis leading the two of you into a safer area deeper within the winding corridors of the ornate halls.

He surprisingly manages to lead the two of you into a tucked away little alcove by the main staircase with little trouble, beckoning Leon to place you down on one of the velvet chairs so he could clumsily try his best to patch you up. He keeps getting disturbed though, and you notice him getting more and more wound up by the way Leon peers over his jacket and watches his every movement like a buzzing wasp. You try to calm him down by reminding him that Ashley is the priority here, not you, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms with a grim frown. He turns instead to pace the eggshell carpet, distracting his mind by keeping watch.

You know he's worried. You know he's battling an unrooted anguish festering deep within his soul. That's been eating away at him for years. You know he's stressed, that he's sorrowful, that behind his tough exterior he spends his whole life feeling guilty. You know it reminds him of that day back in Raccoon City, when you had taken a bullet for him down in the sewers and he thought he had lost you for the first time. But you just couldn't find the right words the say. Couldn't find the right sentence to comfort him, to offer solace to his shuddered heart, to comfort the joyous kid you know he suffocates. To remind him that you're still here... and so is he. To force him to understand that everything that has happened to you, to him, none of it has been his fault. That he's a victim of circumstance, of it all, just as much as Ashley has been.

But why? Why oh why can't you tell him? Why can't you remind him of all the goodness that came after: how the threat of loss and the scent of death had been eclipsed, lulled into a type of serenity on that sterile cable car? When Leon had nearly jumped over the railings, just managing to slip through the closing doors in time to sit down on the bench next to you.

'You really think you can get rid of me that easily', he had murmured with a hoarse chuckle, but he looked like he was doing his best to choke back tears at the thought of you, thirty minutes ago on death's door, going down to face the dangers of the labs below. Thirty minutes ago, he had been on the brink of giving up as he had wrapped his gore stained jacket around your shoulder, and rushed headfirst into danger. He had been ready to let Mr. X to find him. To crush him. To end it all, at the thought of having to live without you.

He looked tired. God, he had looked so tired, as he awkwardly perched next to you. His lashes lazily blinked the tears back as he bashfully switched between checking his gun was loaded and fiddling with his fingers, unsure as how to start. Unsure as how to unload all the feelings that were stomping down on his chest, kicking up at his lungs and forcing a breathless exhale to leave him.

'You need to come with a warning sign you know, the amount of heart attacks you've nearly given me', he finally starts, mustering up the courage to glance his eyes sideways and look at you.

'Well, when we get out of here-'. He winces, and you grab tenderly onto the top of his hand. 'When we get out of here, I'll just- I'll have to make it up to you.' He smiles then, and you relish in the feeling.

'Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? 'Cause I was about to ask you out, but now you've done my job for me yet again I want to see what you've got planned.' You turn your head away and flush, and his heart swoons.

'How about... shakes and fries? I know a great place on 24th street-'. Before you can get your tangled mess of shaking words out, you're stopped by the pressure of Leon's plump lips gingerly pressing against your own. He pulls away quickly, bashfully nearly doubling in on himself like a tortoise retreating into its shell as he realises what he had impulsively done, chiding his body as his cheeks burn like lava. You watch him, mouth slightly agape but mind blank, and he thinks he's ruined everything until you lean forward and kiss him again.

You thump your head back against the crest that ran around the wall, wincing as you began to feel a headache snake around your temples. A final tug against the knotted bandage wrapped wonkily around your abdomen draws you out of the warm clutch of your daydream.

'You know', Luis starts with a smirk, and you can just tell he's about to teasingly cause trouble. 'Usually in the fairy tales, when the brave knight in shining armour helps the princess, he gets a kiss for his trouble.'

'You're about to get my foot in your mouth for your troubles', Leon growls out from where he's leaning against the banister.

'Thank you', you tell Luis seriously, giving his hand a tight squeeze as he removes it from your waist with a satisfied hum.

'This should hold until we get down to my lab. All my equipment should still be there, unless they've burned the place to the ground already, of course', he replies with a wink in your direction.

He could tell that Leon was growing more and more peevish, so Luis very astutely and very shrewdly decided to give the two of you some space. He tugs at your hand, pressing a final kiss against your knuckle before cocking his head and giving you a salute, spinning around on one heel. He swaggers off, using his shoulder to shove open one of the wing's doors, before peering in and allowing himself to be shrouded by the darkness within.

Leon won't even look at you. You can feel the self hatred literally seething off him like steam.

'You can't lose me that easily, you know?'

That makes him stop in his tracks. He slowly spins round, the frown hardening his face softening into a fond smile as he watches you struggle to a stand. You close the distance between the two of you, cupping his cheek and trying desperately to make him believe you. 'You won't lose me. You know how stubborn I am. I won't allow it.'

For the first time since the two of you had left your apartment a couple of days ago, Leon cracks a smile. You do the only thing you can do in that moment: you reach forward like he did all those years ago and kiss him, your mouth drawing over the salty tears beaded on his upper lip line. You pull away with a pop, and Leon looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, all the tenderness in the world pouring out from his heart and melting out of his pores as he grips onto your elbows.

'You promise?' His voice is harsh, but vulnerability trembles between the gaps of every word as he traces the stretch of skin where your engagement ring lies.

'Every minute of every day, Rookie. You know why? Because I love you more than anything.'

'Hey, that's my line!'