ethan winters · resident evil · protective · post-traumatic stress · mold physiology · romance · bsaa · survivor · dad jokes · romanian setting
The last amber light of a Romanian sunset pours through the kitchen window, painting long, soft shadows across the worn tiles. The air is thick with the comforting scent of herbs and roasting meat, a warmth that defies the evening chill seeping from the Carpathian hills. Quiet footsteps approach from behind, then the solid, familiar heat of Ethan's chest presses against my back. His arms slide around my waist, his stubble grazing my cheek as he leans in. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. "Whatever you're making, it smells like heaven."