#aka the fic where Leon is so bloodthirsty he doesn't realize how touch starved he actually is

[macabrecake]

I'm way too lazy to put a proper title and such but this is basically a fluffy little Slasher RE6!Leon x Reader drabble that absolutely no one asked for 🥲

The moment you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door slammed shut, you knew who it was. By the eerie silence and the overwhelming sense of unease that just his presence alone is able to blanket all four corners of the house in, you knew Leon had returned from 'work.' Having entered through the backdoor as usual, he's done it so many times to the point where it's become second nature that you keep it unlocked.

Another odd component to this extremely bizarre roommate set up that you and he have created.

You feed him, give him shelter, and he doesn't end your life like the many others he's taken before. You know it's wrong, aiding a felon- an extremely dangerous, wanted killer to be more specific. You know you should call the police, or Chris, already aware about his own encounter with Leon that night.

"I swear to you y/n, the moment I see him again. I'm gonna make sure I put a bullet in him. Rip his mask off and watch whatever semblance of life he has drain from his eyes. He's cast his shadow of fear and grief over this city for too long…"

"I'll keep you safe from him, I promise."

Your face finds its way into your hands with a deep sigh of guilt. That classic damned if you do, damned if you don't is why you keep quiet. Or that's what you tell yourself at least, since you can't bring yourself to think about the real answer. Chris is trying to protect you… from the very thing that you're harboring in your home right now. You know that if you do say anything about Leon, that's not just your life that's cut short, but Chris as well, and anyone else who gets in his way. Who, now that you're finally tuning into what's going on, is making a lot of noise.

Being around Leon long enough has caused you to inadvertently pick up some of his patterns. Like how he's normally much quieter than that. Only ever making a subtle amount of sounds to lure his victims where he wants them. It's also just a means to scare you, everytime you think Leon is in one part of the house you turn around, only to find him standing there staring at you. It's part of what amuses him. His routine. Which he also hasn't done yet since he got home.

You shouldn't care enough to turn and call out his name, yet you feel that you just need to, even if he doesn't answer. Before you can open your mouth, however, it seems Leon knew you were going to. Making you jolt slightly when you find him already standing in the kitchen. You would ease down a little, which is still a strange thing for you to do around him, but it's short lived when you see the blood.

There's a very obvious crimson trail following behind him, smeared all over his clothes, still dripping from his hands and knife. You don't wanna know who it could belong to, though you're probably gonna find out anyway when it shows up on the News tomorrow. But, by his stature alone, you could see it's not just some unfortunate civilian. Leon's shoulders were more hunched than normal, and the breath that escapes through his mask is loud, ragged. It connects the dots for you quickly.

He's hurt.

"Holy shit." You whisper past your fingertips when your hand goes to your mouth in shock. Again, you really shouldn't care, you should be praying that he'll finally drop dead where he stands. You shouldn't be reaching into the cabinet for the first aid kit, shouldn't be asking him if he needs help and wait for an answer. Yet, that's exactly what you do.

There's a brief minute of silence until Leon slightly turns his body to the side to give you a path out of the kitchen. You act swiftly and head for the bathroom with the medical necessities, hearing his boots hit the hardwood as he trails behind you. Once in the bathroom, you set down the supplies while Leon sits on the toilet lid with what you could assume is a quiet sigh of exhaustion. Probably sitting down for the first time this whole night.

It's things like that that often makes you realize he's still human, to an extent at least. You've still witnessed him do things that are beyond the capabilities of an ordinary man. So much that he's survived. Things that would kill anyone else. Maybe that's why just being in the same space as him is still deeply upsetting at times. Especially when all you can smell near him is the strong scent of iron.

He's pretty unpredictable.

Even now, Leon could very easily kill you if he wished. Whether it's because he doesn't see usefulness in you anymore, or if he just suddenly gets bored. He's smart enough to take care of his own wounds after all.

So what is his purpose for keeping you alive?

You don't know, nor will you ever try to gain the courage to ask, as you take a small shaky breath to calm your nerves before turning to face the man. As usual, those dark eye sockets of his mask are already peering back at you. Fighting to contain a small shudder, you point to his bloodied coveralls, "I'm gonna need to move your clothes out of the way so I can see where you're hurt, ok?"

Once again, Leon is still for a short moment before he straightens his back up more. Keeping his hands in his lap so you have room to work on him. After you get permission, you step closer to unbutton the flap and unzip the top part of his suit down. You see his plain black T-shirt underneath, torn in some areas, very clearly red and sticking to his skin in others. Your brows lightly furrow in concern, almost hesitant to lift his shirt up now. But with the way he leans forward for your hands to lightly splay against his chest, you make yourself carry on. Carefully, you remove Leon's shirt. But this time with extreme caution to not take his mask off with the ruined fabric.

That's when your concern turns to horror.

For one, you can't tell what's fresh wounds and what's old scars that the blonde obtained from Doctor Benford shooting him the first time he escaped all those years ago. Everything is caked in a layer of dried blood, dirt, sweat, and grime.

The darker spots on Leon's torso yielded some clues at least, more bullet wounds for sure, as well as some deep cuts and heavy bruising. Like he was beaten with something, or numerous things, who in the world managed to get ahold of him to do all of this? Nevermind how he survived it, that's a question you long gave up trying to answer. Much like how, considering that he's sitting here right now, tells you that the one's who did this most likely aren't around anymore.

"Fucking hell…" You mumble as your eyes drift across the vast sea of injuries before settling on what you know is probably gonna take the most work. "Jesus Christ Leon, you got burned too?" The response you get is a low huff, it's a long story that he's clearly still mad about, which obviously would suggest that you don't mention it. Now, you know you're not a doctor, but anyone knows a burn when they see one. They stick out, and are never pretty. It cascades over his left shoulder, seeming to creep upward before going to hide away under his mask, which also looks rather charred on one side now that you've gotten a closer look.

There's so much going on around Leon's chest and abdomen, you don't know where to begin. You opt to clean the mess away for starters, let you see where the wounds are and also prevent any infection. If he's even capable of getting sick. Nearly an entire roll of paper towels, tissue, and cleaning wipes later. You finally get an eyeful of the damage that was done, and a little extra…

You already knew Leon was fit. However, it's one thing to imagine, another to actually have your face up close and personal with it. Now you have details. Now you get to see what lies beyond those dangerous hands- that have yet to lethally turn against you. Following one of the protruding veins on the back of his large palm, it runs up through his muscled forearm before disappearing into the hearty meat of his bicep.

Along the way you find another old bullet scar, stamped right below where Leon's shoulder meets with his collarbone. A roadblock, or perhaps an important landmark. Your eyes continue their journey along the bone before dipping down to pass between a valley of pure muscle that makes up the natural pecs and abs of his strong chest.

You know you should probably stop, you know Leon can see what you're doing- you're kneeling right in front of him for God's sake. So maybe it's a good thing that before your eyes could follow the happy trail and obvious indent of his V-line, Leon suddenly shifts to lean forward and tilt his head at you. Course it makes you jump a little, avoiding his gaze with a small 'sorry' as you search for the tweezers. Search, more like you passed your hand over the tool a couple times before you finally grabbed them and got to work plucking out the bullets.

Though you think Leon is now annoyed with you, that ghost of a smirk hiding beneath his mask while he stares down at you would say otherwise. He knows you were looking, and sees it in your burning cheeks how flustered he made you. Maybe he should do this more often.

Curious about what other reactions he'll get out of you, he patiently waits for you to finish wrapping some gauze around his torso. Add some bandaids to the smaller injuries on his hands and arms, then stand up to get a closer look at the burn on his shoulder. The man would almost chuckle at how gentle your dainty hands work, as if you're scared of hurting him more, carefully padding the burn ointment onto his seared skin before stopping at the edge of his mask. You then step away, which leaves some vague sense of disappointment in Leon.

A small gasp falls from your lips as you're suddenly stopped in your tracks, making you turn your head to look at the man and ask what's wrong. Course you get no vocal answer, but Leon still makes it clear when he pulls you back to him for his other hand to latch onto your hip and make you sit down in his lap. Others. Strangers he doesn't like touching his face.

"I know you don't like other's touching your face. Thought you might feel more comfortable working on it alone." You explain in that tone that's always so soft around him, as you throw away the blood soaked trash before turning to exit the bathroom. Knowing he hardly takes his mask off unless he's alone or extremely tired. That's when Leon's brows furrow as he moves into action, letting his hand shoot out to grab your wrist.

You're different.

A shy smile graces your lips, just as your heart decides to leap around in your chest. Meanwhile your lungs seem to forget how to provide air for a moment. You manage to stay composed for the most part as Leon keeps a hold on your wrist to guide your hand up and place it against the cheek of his mask. That answer is definitely loud enough.

It takes you a second to get over the small shock, because, over all, the only one allowed to touch that is him. Regardless, you don't pass up the opportunity as you bring your other hand up to grip the edge and carefully peel the mask away from Leon's face, uncertain of what other injuries he could possess.

You would focus on the burn once you set the mask on the floor, but it's such a rare occurrence to fully view his face, so the moments you get to see him, are captivating everytime. Like how long his hair has gotten as the golden strands fall around his shoulders and frame his fierce blue eyes. It's something truly magazine cover worthy, he could definitely be voted as the sexist man alive in a heartbeat.

It's to the point you can't help but admire as you let your fingers part his bangs so you can see him better, "Would you be offended if I got you a haircut at some point? Could make it easier to manage." You muse as you move his hair away to start working on the rest of the wound. Seeing now that the burn took a little of his stubble away before stopping around his cheek, close to the scar that runs through his eye. Said eyes narrow at you just a fraction while his hands press more into the flesh of your hips and actually rub up and down your sides a little. That's new.

Even when he's tired, Leon normally isn't this cuddly. Which lends you the realization of how gentle he's trying to be. It makes your stomach flutter with a strange giddiness as a quiet giggle passes your lips while you apply the same burn ointment near his Adam's apple. "Just an idea, don't worry."

Though Leon will never ever admit it in anyway, it does mean a lot that he views you a little differently than anyone else. Hell if anyone else was this close to him, they would most certainly be dead already. But, again, it's different with you. So if a haircut means feeling your fingers gently touch him like this, he's all for it. He's not even gonna question why he wants it. He just… does.

A few more minutes pass, before the final bandage is placed on his cheek. As well as a couple little kisses- one to his nose, and the other to his lips. Which he actually lets you give to him and even deepens the last one.

Damn it. Maybe it's whatever sweet poison is on his lips, but it's no wonder you don't say anything to anyone. Because you know you'd miss him. You don't let yourself think on it longer, instead you smile brighter with another little giggle at Leon burying his face in your shoulder, his breath coming out faster and heavier from the kiss. "Be careful next time, ok?" You whisper to him.

Your butt receives a soft squeeze in response.