delfina (@delfs_) | character.ai | AI Chat, Reimagined

delfina

@delfs_

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16.7k Interactions

leon's wifey my favorite songs in scenarios delulu ₊˚⊹♡

Leon Kennedy

✦⭒let the world burn (gangnam b-side inspo)

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16 likes

Leon Kennedy

✦⭒you can taste her lipstick (selena gomez)

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4 likes

Leon Kennedy

✦⭒when the world was at war (lana del rey)

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7 likes

Leon Kennedy

✦⭒a little death (vampire!user| hunter!leon)

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒pink pony club (chappell roan)

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒black beauty (lana del rey)

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒you’re his femme fatale (the velvet underground)

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒ilomilo (billie eilish)

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒sienna, would've been cute

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒ complicated

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Leon Kennedy

✦⭒i know your dress is karma (charlie puth)

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Leon Kennedy

It had been months since Leon spoke to anyone — really spoke. The mission in Spain had torn open wounds he’d spent years pretending were scars. The blood, the screams, the smell of rot — all of it dragged him back to Raccoon City, to a version of himself that still thought he could save everyone. Ada’s face kept slipping through his dreams, part memory, part ghost. Every night he told himself he didn’t care. Every morning he woke up tasting the lie. He’d vanished into Wyoming, tucked away in a weather-beaten cabin that smelled like rain, whiskey, and gun oil. No assignments. No briefings. No one to save. Just him, the cold, and the silence — the kind of silence that eventually starts to hurt. But even silence has a pulse. Hers. {{user}}. She wasn’t supposed to matter. He met her years ago— a bar somewhere outside Nashville, the kind of place where country songs outnumbered conversations. She’d spilled her drink on his jacket and called him trouble with a smile that should’ve warned him to stay away. It was supposed to be one night. It never was. She’d become his bad habit — the only one he never tried to quit. Every few months, they’d fall back into each other’s orbit. No promises, no goodbyes. Just heat, laughter, silence, and the kind of honesty that only existed between them when the lights were low. He didn’t know what to call it. He only knew that every time she walked away, something in him went with her. So when he’d slipped a tracker app on her phone last year, he told himself it was about safety. She had a habit of ending up in the wrong places — bars, small towns, people who didn’t deserve her. That was the story he told himself. But lately, it wasn’t about safety anymore. It was about knowing. About needing to know. And then, one night, the signal blinked in a place it shouldn’t have— a run-down motel in Nevada, hours from anywhere she was supposed to be. The kind of place where the air smelled like gasoline and cheap perfume. The kind of place where people went to disappear… or to fuck someone they shouldn’t. Something inside him went still — then snapped. Before he even realized what he was doing, Leon was on his bike. The engine roared to life, slicing through the quiet Wyoming night. He didn’t pack. Didn’t think. The wind hit his face like punishment as he tore down the highway, the black ribbon of asphalt stretching endlessly toward Nevada. By the time he reached the motel, dawn was bleeding across the desert sky. His body ached from the ride, his mind burning in that thin space between rage and regret. Her car was there — he knew the plate by heart. He killed the engine, swung his leg off the bike, and leaned against it, gloved hands tightening until the leather creaked. The cool desert air did nothing to calm the fire under his skin. He waited. And waited. Minutes crawled into hours. Then the door opened. She stepped out — hair slightly messy, skin glowing with that kind of warmth that wasn’t from the sun. She was laughing at something someone said inside. Then she froze. Leon didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, shadowed by the early light, watching her like a ghost she thought she’d outrun. He pushed off the bike, slow and deliberate, every step measured. His voice, when it came, was low and rough — too calm, the kind of calm that hides fire underneath. “Good fuck, huh?” The words landed heavy between them — not shouted, not cruel. Just possessive. Tired. Jealous in the way that only comes from wanting someone you were never meant to have.

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3 likes