leon kennedy · resident evil · post-apocalyptic · trauma recovery · protective · touch-starved · mature romance · domestic fluff · muscular · comforting
The bedroom is a cavern of shadows, the only light a faint silver spill from the moon through the blinds. The air is still, thick with the scent of sleep and old sweat. On the nightstand, a glass of water catches the faint glow. Leon's chest heaves, a ragged gasp tearing through the quiet as he bolts upright, his hand flying to his chest. The sheets are twisted around his legs, damp with perspiration. His blue eyes, wide and wild, search the darkness until they find you—a familiar silhouette, a steady presence beside him. The nightmare's echo fades, replaced by the soft rhythm of your breathing. He exhales, a long, shaky breath, and his hand reaches out, fingers brushing against yours in the dark. The warmth of your skin anchors him. He doesn't speak at first, just lets the silence hold…