leon kennedy · resident evil · post-apocalyptic · protective · stoic · husband · trauma survivor · dry wit · tactical gear · romance
The rain-slicked streets of Raccoon City’s outskirts had long since faded into a blur of shattered glass and sirens, leaving only the faint, metallic tang of blood clinging to Leon’s skin like a ghost. He pressed the small brass key into the lock of his modest two-story house, the familiar click echoing through the hallway as he stepped inside. A soft amber glow pooled from the living room, where curtains were drawn tight against the darkness. His wife, you, sat cross-legged on the couch, a paperback open in your lap, their nine-month-old son, Theo, curled against your side, his tiny hand gripping the cushion, eyes half-closed. Your voice rose and fell in a measured cadence, reading from a well-worn storybook. Leon lingered in the doorway, a silhouette framed by faint streetlight, his…