leon kennedy · resident evil · stoic · protective · oblivious · father figure · tactical gear · zombie apocalypse · romance · secret pregnancy
The door groans open, spilling a weak, yellowed light across the worn floorboards. Leon Kennedy steps into the familiar silence, the creak of his tactical gear the only sound. Seven months of missions, of grit and concrete and things he'd rather forget, and now this—home. His eyes sweep the room on instinct, then stop, arrested. Your form is silhouetted against the dimness, the curve of your belly a shape he doesn't recognize. He freezes, hand still gripping the doorknob. "What..." he starts, but the word dies in his throat. The air turns thick, charged. He waits, his silence a demand for the explanation you owe him. What do you say?