⋆✴︎˚cat ⋆˚꩜

“Leon?” you mumbled, cracking your eyes open, voice coated heavy with sleep and medication. His scent was strong enough to relax you, it always did, admittedly. His face carried a twisted hollowness that was etched into it, but as soon as your sweet voice fell on his ears, his tail began to swish side to side, and the adrenaline that was hammered into him vanished.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” Leon kicked his shoes off, placing himself in front of you, crouching.

“You’re back early,” you whispered, eyes big and dilated, he could almost see his outline in them. Usually they were sly, cold and calculating, always figuring out your next exit. But now, you had completely surrendered to the pain. Kitten-like and adorable.

“Needed to see you,” he said simply, his eyes flicked across you, searching for any fault or discomfort as wolves do when caring for their pack. He placed his arms on the couch, leaning against them, tilting his head in the same direction in which you were leaning against the pillows. Scenting you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck was his biggest desire, but in your fragile condition he was limited.

However, even if you weren’t injured, scaring you away from him was a deep-rooted fear that had rotted in the back of his mind. Losing the only sense of warmth that he could hold in within a cold and disheartening world like this—it was an unbearable thought to him.

“You worry too much,” you shook your head slightly, but as soon as you tried to sit up to pet him, a stinging hot pain scorched right through your side, and an unfiltered gasp flew from your lips. You instinctively folded back in on yourself, hand shooting to your side where the pain was blooming, tail puffed up.

You had only been here for a few days now, after a catastrophe in Eastern Europe where you caught yourself in crossfire with the BSAA. A group of brutes, you always thought, brutes on steroids even, and unfortunately, you had gotten on their nerves for too long. Long enough for Chris Redfield himself to take you down, despite his knowledge of your relationship with Leon. Of course, cat hybrids enjoy teasing, testing boundaries, how much they can push before you snap. Bear hybrids, like the Redfields, don’t enjoy threatening behaviour in the slightest.

The result of that is now clear in your current state.

Leon’s hand reached under your chin, bringing it up to look at him. You met his sharp blue eyes, cold and icy, and your expression relaxed, eyes curious and soft.

“Hey. I know you’ll get through this. You’re a brave girl,” he cooed, his fingers brushing along your cheek, “and I’m too scared to lose you again.”

Words weren’t exactly your friends, they never left your mouth correctly, landing flat and monotonous. His words weren’t vulnerable often, and this pitiful hatred towards yourself built up when you couldn’t find the correct vocabulary that was suited to handling these sorts of conversations. 

Your eyes followed his fingers, then, letting him rub your ears. A soft purring cadence left you, but you were far too overcome in exhaustion to be embarrassed about it. So, instead, your fingers twirling around the floppy parts of his hair before letting go.

“Can I see your injury, baby?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nodded slowly, shifting yourself carefully to allow him to pull up the loose shirt (his), and reveal the blood-soaked bandages, some of it dried and patchy on your skin. Tracing the blood was muddied violet bruises, blossoming across your side.

“Oh, kitty,” he examined, fingers hovering above the wound, “I think you might’ve torn your stitches. Let me stitch you up again.”

“You don’t have to do all of this for me, Leon. I can handle myself,” you pushed his hand away, tail swishing once.

His ears dropped. Pushing away his assistance when you were essentially dying on his couch, was a new level of stubborn he had never seen before. Sure, you had your cold moments when the two of you came across each other on missions but there were glances that didn’t go unnoticed, paths cleared that were appreciated and ammo that was left as gifts. Cats were sly and calculating whereas wolves were pack-dependent and able to conquer long distances. However, the two relied on dusk, intertwining the polar opposites. Wolves relied on each other. Cats were territorial.

Trusting him, he knew, was something that couldn’t be repaired if broken.

“Don’t say that. You know, if I didn’t find you in time, you would’ve been—” his voice raised, but then he stopped, his sigh felt on your skin, “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t start playing this game with me. Not right now.”           

You let out a grumble before rolling your eyes and resting your head back onto the pillow in defeat. He smiled a little at your surrender before pushing himself up to grab the med kit from the bathroom.

From your small stay here, you noticed how untouched everything went in his apartment. The way the light slipped from his curtains and highlighted every dust particle floating aimlessly in the air. It made you feel like you were in a collection of his life, a museum, rather than his home. His cupboards were empty, apart from a few standard cans. He only filled them up due to your presence. His vase was empty. He only placed flowers in them due to your presence.

Maybe you bleeding out on his couch wasn’t exactly the way he wished to have you in his apartment, but his instinctive urge to take care of you overrode everything else.

“I’m going to numb the area, okay?” he warned softly, peeling back the bandages and dabbing antiseptic onto a cloth.

“Just be careful, Leon,” you murmured, when there was no one else you trusted more than him. He knew that already, considering the way your tail curled around him.

“Of course,” he said before cleaning your wound. The antiseptic flared pain into your side again, your face tensing before rubbing anaesthesia into your skin. While he waited for it to numb, he tucked your hair out of your face, his thumb slowly brushing under your eye.

“Okay, just going to prepare the needle now. Everything still okay, hun?”

You nodded, tail curling tighter around him.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he worked the needle through your skin, the words melting like honey through your ears.

You laid there, quiet and still, his perfect patient. His arms shifted around you, clearly tense.

“Just this last bit, can you do that for me, kitty?” he asked, his other hand resting above your thigh.

“Yes, Dr Kennedy,” you teased, offering him a small smirk. He shook his head slightly with a laugh, his chest easing. Your stomach fluttered seeing the boyish smile loosen something youthful within him.

“All done,” he packed up the kit, finishing by wrapping you in clean bandages, “Now c’mon, lemme on the couch too.”

You scooted over, and Leon lowered himself carefully behind you, his arms caging you in a hungry hug. His wagging tail tickled your leg and you soon felt something warm dragging through your hair and ears.

“Are you grooming me?” you turned around, raising an eyebrow at the old man, who had a shit-eating smile on his face. Utterly whipped by the pretty kitty laid in front of him. The mysterious one that had him on his toes every time he came across her, the one that always teased him for always remaining one step behind her. Nevertheless, your age was no match for his experience, and despite how much you claimed he could never catch up, he always did—and faster than expected. A quality like that, of course, had you most curious.

“Gotta make sure my favourite patient is satisfied,” his eyes focused on yours, half-lidded and sleepy on an overdose of your affection. His devotion always surprised you; it was unconditional almost, binded and eternal. Wolves were incredibly loyal, but loyal to a cat was an anomaly, a doubt within you that kept you pondering whether if the universe really had fated the two of you together or it was just tragic luck.

“Hm, okay, puppy,” you pouted, turning back, a smirk playing on your face.

“Puppy?” he grumbled, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. He continued licking you anyway, his grey stubble brushing through your hair until a small purr began to vibrate through your chest.

a/n: sorry this isn't up to my usual standard. just wanted 2 post something before i get busy again. this leawn isnt my usual leawn but whatever... im gonna be writing a mercenary reader x leon soon... this is just the prototype

those brilliant blue eyes scan slowly across the lecture hall while students hang onto every word that leaves his mouth

except today. today he’s struggling

because you’re sitting in the front row leaning toward the guy beside you, whispering something that makes you smile

and leon completely loses his train of thought

outwardly, he's still talking. still pacing slowly in front of the projector screen with one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks

but somewhere in the middle of explaining a case study, his eyes drift back toward you again and stay there too long

because you look beautiful when you’re distracted, that’s the problem

your lashes lower when you laugh softly, your fingers toy absentmindedly with your pen, you lean closer when you’re listening

and leon, poor, yearning professor Kennedy, can’t stop noticing every little thing about you

the handsome student beside you says something else quietly

you smile again

and for the first time all semester, professor kennedy stumbles over his own lecture

the room barely notices, but you do

because when you finally glance back toward him, leon is already looking at you and the expression on his face nearly steals the air from your lungs

not jealousy exactly. something softer than that. something far more dangerous, like he wants your attention so badly it’s starting to undo him

then, almost unconsciously, his tongue presses briefly against the inside of his cheek while his gaze flicks toward the boy sitting next to you before returning to your face again

and suddenly you understand

professor leon kennedy is trying very hard to act unaffected by you and failing beautifully

and you know there's no reason for professor kennedy to be jealous. you were just helping the boy next to you understand the lesson

so to make sure the professor knew you were his (entirely, helplessly his) you slid your legs open just a little bit

you felt cool air up your thighs. between them.

professor Kennedy turns back in your direction

“-and when assessing a compromised witness statement, you have to account for the fact that memory under stress is not linear-”

leon stops for the time is takes for one fractured heartbeat

his eyes had drifted toward you automatically again, helplessly, really, because they had been doing that all lecture, and then suddenly the world narrowed into something unbearably small

you. front row. skirt shifted ever so slightly as your knees opened, ankles still together

a glimpse of soft fabric. lace. hidden only for him

the professor’s breath catches so subtly no one else notices it

you do. god, you do

because you know him now

you know the way his composure tightens when he’s struggling. the way his jaw flexes when he’s trying not to react. the way his eyes darken when something reaches too deeply beneath that careful, professional control of his

and right now, professor leon kennedy is unraveling beautifully

not because of what you showed him, but because of what it meant

the boy beside you says something quietly again, leaning closer

leon’s grip tightens around the dry erase marker in his hand

then your eyes lift to his and suddenly understanding moves across his face with devastating clarity

Oh.

you were not teasing. not being cruel

you were comforting him

the realization hits him so hard he nearly loses the next sentence entirely

his gaze drops for half a second, tongue pressing slowly against the inside of his cheek while he gathers himself

“People,” he says, voice rougher now, lower somehow, “people tend to reveal what matters to them most when they feel threatened.”

silence settles strangely over the lecture hall

because something about the way professor kennedy said the sentence sounded painfully personal

his eyes meet yours again

and this time the look in them nearly steals the breath from your lungs

it was unbearably tender

like your tiny act of reassurance had slipped beneath his ribs and lodged there permanently

leon forces himself to continue the lecture despite looking like a man trying to survive his own feelings in real time