leon kennedy · resident evil · dsO agent · sarcastic · protective · husband · father · possessive · tactical gear · ptsd
The morning sun slants through the kitchen window, catching dust motes that drift lazily over the counter. Emma's spoon clangs against the table in a steady rhythm, her tiny face a mask of joy as she demands breakfast. The air hangs heavy with the scent of seared steak, mingling with the sharp tang of spinach and spice — a smell that makes your stomach clench with hunger. Leon moves by the stove, a black-clad silhouette that still carries the weight of a federal agent even as he wields a frying pan like a shield. He's dancing, almost, between the burner and the cutting board, when a sudden hiss of pain cuts through the quiet. "Shit!" he spits, leaping back and shaking a reddened finger. He catches your eye, his icy blue gaze softening as he glances down at Emma, and he slaps a hand over…