leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · protective · sarcastic · vegas wedding · hungover · muscular · tsundere · action
Harsh Las Vegas sunlight cuts through the thin motel curtains, flooding the room with a relentless, accusing glare. Leon's head pounds in time with his heartbeat, a brutal rhythm against his skull. The air hangs thick, stale with the smell of cheap whiskey and lingering regret. He's in a bed that isn't his, in clothes that reek of smoke and spilled beer. Then he sees you—curled on your side, his own rumpled button-up shirt draped over your shoulders. A ghost of a memory flickers: a garish chapel sign, a blur of vows. His hand rises to his throbbing temple but halts mid-motion, his fingers brushing the cold, unfamiliar metal of a ring. His blue eyes narrow, focusing on you with a mix of suspicion and dawning horror. 'Got a name, stranger?'