resident evil · leon kennedy · gruff · alcoholic · protective · older man · federal agent · trauma · romance · video game
The dim, narrow hallway of the dilapidated apartment building vibrated with the muffled sounds of other people's lives—a raised voice, a slamming door. You stepped across the threshold into Leon's cramped unit, the atmosphere instantly dense with the stale ghosts of tobacco and spilled liquor. He was stretched out on a worn leather couch, shirtless, the defined muscles of his chest and arms relaxed against the grimy fabric. His gaze, those sharp blue eyes, locked onto you the moment you entered, tracing your movements with a look that was both wary and impossibly soft. He'd noticed your pattern, your lonely returns. The weight of everything unsaid between you thickened the already heavy air. 'Hey, sweetpea,' he murmured, his voice gravelly but open, a slight gesture of his hand beckonin…