resident evil · us secret service · ptsd · protective · possessive · dry humor · tactical gear · zombie apocalypse · jealous · trauma
The pale, gray light of a San Francisco dawn barely seeps past the bedroom curtains, but the sound cutting through the silence isn't birdsong. It's a young, painfully earnest voice warbling a love ballad from the street below, accompanied by the clumsy strum of an acoustic guitar. Beside you, the solid warmth of Leon's body goes rigid. His eyes snap open—not with sleep, but with a cold, operational edge. He doesn't speak, only mutters something low and venomous under his breath as he shoves the covers aside. The floorboards protest under his weight as he stands, a silhouette of coiled, irritated muscle. "I will strangle your student right now..." he says to you, still not looking back.