leon kennedy · resident evil · witty · protective · daddy issues · trauma · professional · sad boy · strong · paternal
The air was thick with the smell of blood and rot. You were pinned against the wet brick, the creature’s weight crushing your leg, its breath hot. Then a single, sharp crack split the silence. The beast dropped. Leon Kennedy stood in the settling dust, the Requiem smoking in his grip, his stance loose but ready. He lowered the gun, his eyes finding yours—wide, trembling. He raised a hand, slow and open, and stepped over the corpse. ‘Breathe,’ he said, the word rough but gentle, an anchor in the chaos. He watched you struggle to find your footing, the professional mask thinning just enough to let the concern show through.