#im better than ada

[dennisboobs]

either glenn and charlie have been trading this animal shithouse bracelet back and forth or they have matching animal shithouse bracelets

#ada speaks #iasip #rcg #obsessed with That being their choice. #like. yeah. yeah. #pitch animal shithouse merch to FX you two im begging #you KNOW the queers will go crazy over it #also personally. very special to me that glenn chose the animal shithouse bracelet. #its Such a moment for me and i vibe with that shit WAY more than any attempted box-ticking rep #do they know. the genderfuckery feelings. glennifer. do you know. #can dennis and charlie inexplicably start wearing these in s17 #genderfucked buddies <3 #(also jic left is glenn right is charlie) #glenn's other bracelet is The Better Brown #and im pppretty sure charlie's also says the same

[note-boom]

Life and Death Parallels within the ADA

Someone in a tag said a while back to throw some of my tags of this post onto a post, and I meant to do it way back in February but kind of got lost to the timestream.

But I'm back and I really do have thoughts about the way the ADA is structured to really be, as Atsushi was told just before the Kamui revelation, a place where the members give the organisation unique strengths that cover each other's weaknesses. And I thought about how there's a sort of equal divide between the older generation (Ranpo, Yosano, Dazai, and Kunikida) and the younger generation (Kyouka, Kenji, Tanizaki, Atsushi) and how each of these characters have both a similar aged parallel to them in the agency as well as a minor-adult parallel.

I'll try to be as concise as possible (I failed), but hear me out...

We have Ranpo/Yosano, Dazai/Kunikida, Atsushi/Tanizaki, and Kyouka/Kenji as similar-aged parallel sets that pair a death-coded individual with a life-coded individual. On the the adult-minor side, you have Ranpo/Kenji, Yosano/Atsushi, Dazai/Kyouka, and Tanizaki/Kunikida as parallel sets in their story arcs rather than thematic ones.

So, to start with the first set.

Ranpo (life-coded) and Yosano (death-coded): I feel as if these two have sort of reached the most balanced level of thematic parallels than any of the other pairings. Ranpo's past was full of this enjoyment with life where his parents' occupations dealing with darker forces of the world were hidden from him. Meanwhile, Yosano's past was full of death and darkness that was not hidden from her. And in Yosano's backstory, she was called the angel of death; in Ranpo's Origins tale with Fukuzawa, he confronted an angel of death of a sort. Yosano was deteriorating into death while Ranpo was slowly thriving under Fukuzawa. And then they met...and Ranpo found someone to bring back to life, and a place in the ADA where he could use murders and death and the darkness of the world to spread light/life by literally shining light on the mysteries, while Yosano found a place where she could use death to bring life in the ADA.

Dazai (death-coded) and Kunikida (life-coded): I think this parallel of life/death manifests the most in their ideals...Dazai's ideal is sort of entrenched in death and trying to die a painless suicide while Kunikida is all about spreading life for himself and others no matter how much pain it brings him. What's so wrong with these two is that they also have inclinations towards their "opposite coding," so to speak. We constantly see people pointing out Kunikida's secret desire to die while we clearly see Dazai doing his uttermost to live a good life and carry on Oda's legacy. Life haunts Kunikida as much as death haunts Dazai, and yet death chases after Kunikida (all the people he's witnessed dying, RIP) as much as life comes after Dazai (all his failed suicide attempts, double RIP)

Atsushi (life-coded) and Tanizaki (death-coded): This is honestly pretty tricky because we barely know anything about Tanizaki. Even though Kunikida and Dazai's past-pasts are still pretty mysterious, we have a good grasp on their characters. But Tanizaki's personality dissonance and as-of-yet unknown past with his sister definitely contrasts with the way we're know Atsushi's past and values. Both, however, are incredibly protective, but the way Tanizaki and Atsushi approach it is pretty different; Tanizaki seems to have this mentality that he must kill the threat while Atsushi seems determined more to save the victim. (I also find that one throwaway about "wimp of the east (Tanizaki)/wimp of the west (Atsushi)" interesting because maybe it's just in western lit, but west denotes sunsets and death while east denotes sunrises and rising, except in Buddhism where the west is shown as a direction of enlightenment(info check?)...which provides another host of interesting parallels to Atsushi and his relation to the book but let's not go there). All in all, these two are a bit of a stretch, but it's interesting to see that Atsushi's mysteries lie more towards the future (usually associated with life) while Tanizaki's life more in the past.

Kenji (life-coded) and Kyouka (death-coded): This one's pretty straightforward, not just because they're the youngest members of the ADA. But you see their life philosophies and personalities lean towards what they're coded as, as well as their pasts (Kenji as a farmer, cultivating life, and Kyouka as an assassin, dealing death). And yet what drew each to the ADA....Kenji was drawn to the ADA after witnessing death after a lifetime of growing new life while Kyouka was drawn to the ADA after being given life after a long childhood of killing.

However, in the end, the Armed Detective Agency is a detective organisation devoted to saving people, and all of them end up choosing life for it. But the different ways they go about it just go to show that you can have any crazy skill and still spread some sort of life through it. All of them are haunted by death, anyway, and yet all of them choose to spread life regardless.

Now onto the second set, which I'll keep shorter by simply saying that the pairs - Ranpo/Kenji, Yosano/Atsushi, Dazai/Kyouka, and Tanizaki/Kunikida - just have similar story beats, in a sense.

Ranpo and Kenji raised fairly happy, rudely awakened by the world, and yet choosing to believe in continuing to keep up a positive attitude; I'd say, though, that Ranpo does it primarily through shutting his eyes to the world while unmasking it while Kenji does it through acknowledging its pain and refusing to let it bring him down.

Yosano and Atsushi both with honestly terrible childhoods spent witnessing some of the most cruel sides of human natures growing up to be champions of life, only Yosano has definitely developed more steel and walls while Atsushi's definitely softer and more open still (they're both crazy stubborn, though).

Then Dazai and Kyouka's past with the Port Mafia and a disillusionment in reality that was abruptly interrupted when they realised they had to do something about it as useless as it sounded; Dazai thanks to Oda dying and Kyouka thanks to Dazai telling her to save people anyway.

And again, Kunikida and Tanizaki's probably a stretch given we know nothing about their pasts, but I really really find it interesting that Kunikida was a former teacher and Atsushi first assumed Tanizaki and Naomi to be students; also, I've mentioned this in other posts but Kunikida and Tanizaki are paired together a lot and have...their moments. It's pretty interesting to perceive these two people with strong ideals that are almost the reversal of the other ("the world for one person" vs "myself (one person) for the world").

But yeah...that has been parallels within the ADA concerning themes of life and death and their character's narrative arcs.

Bonus? Fukuzawa and Naomi....a middle aged president and a teenaged clerk, both protective about the people they claim to be their own, smart in their own ways, with seemingly "support" roles.

#the bonus was mostly crack but i didnt want to leave fukuzawa and naomi out of it #anyway that has been a short look into character parallels with someone obsessed with character parallels... #...whether they exist or not #who knows maybe im just very much... #spitting nonsense #but also im onto something right?? #anyway it means a lot to me that the ada is all about surviving despite what the world has thrown at you #and despite what i said about being coded more one way than the other... #...i also take it back #because what theyve all done is face the horrors of death AND life and choose to make things better...whatever that means #and i love them all for it #character analysis #armed detective agency #bsd musings #bsd #oh yeah but what about that thing about buddhism and atsushi's west?

[buntsukim]

these two....

#mine #m art #i made adams genderbend name ada #yes im genius #coal the oc #cotton and ads r somehow a better ship in my eyes than coal and adam even tho its the same #oc #oc art #original character #art #artists on tumblr

[videogamelover99]

im thinking about the many times dazai tried to shoot his shot only to get shut down by chuuya ruthlessly when they were teenagers versus whatever they’ve got going on now as adults (rich lady and lap scene) versus what beast!dazai and beast!chuuya have

You have one kid who doesn't undestand flirting getting advances from another kid who doesn't understand how to flirt like a normal human being they are so silly your honor.

#again fifteen!dazai being read as a kid with a crush for the first time? gold #'i want attention. im gonna plot their demise. that should do it right.' #'i hate them. i cant stand them. i want them to be my dog forever.' #asks #bsd #where is my romcom skk fic where adult dazai tries to flirt with chuuya and its better than it was but GOOD GOD is it still bad #the rest of the ada look at it and cringe

[thisgodwontforgiveyou]

i dont have an activity powerful enough to distract me from how bad separate ways is when i put it on in the background

#i cannot believe its actually genuinely worse than the base game like forreal #i thought it would just be worse bc the gameplay was worse cus thats usually what ppl bitch about #mi not sure id say it drags the whole experience down both bc i cant play it to know how the gameplay factors in for all i know #it plays fucking perfectly and is better than the original #but also bc the game is past a threshold of bad where you just kind of marvel at any different kind of sub-badness it has #its honestly rly reminds me a lot of the ada campaign in re6 in that way where im just like damn you really tried huh

[illctaffairs]

sorry i've been a lil bit mia, i am Unwell KFJGHFSKJ

#୨୧⠀┆⠀𝑜𝑜𝒸 › ada speaks. #mentally and physically 🤪 #BUTTTTTT im dogsitting this weekend which means i have nothing better to do than write so !!! consider me probably back 🤭

[womansound]

separating these by verse but i would not be me if i didn’t say x for niles, denji, or kaihwan 🤲🏻

#{ 🤍 } ... 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 ... natalie 𝐟𝐭 . miles ! #{ 🤍 } ... 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 ... davis 𝐟𝐭 . benji ! #{ 🤍 } ... 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 ... dohwan 𝐟𝐭 . kai ! #oh my 16th lomls <3 #a) sometimes i forget that nat has a semi following bc of her podcast n i just think about #her going from talking about the lil crush she has on her neighbor on the pod #to hard launching him on her instagram 😭 like !!! #oh they mean EVERYTHING TO ME im never thinking about niles a healthy amount tbh #b) i also think davis has gained a following via benji but also that hes fairly popular #having been like. student body president n kind of popular on campus #c) meanwhile doie has very little followers on instagram bc its private n he posts maybe once every two years 😭 #n ofc what revives an ig better than a soulmate reveal <3 #o they are the lomls ada im serious ...

[rz-053]

This day sucks everyone is angry at me and im just doing my best to get through and im dalling so so so fucking hard back into the dark place

#hooray for potentially illegal post employment mandatory physical #ada seems to state pre employment mandatory physicals are allowed #but this is well over a year after my employment #so like if any of you know the law better than i do feel free to lmk #and now im being vagued for REBLOGGING a post with an overdone joke #im not the person who fucking added it get off my dick it was on my dash and it was funny #like normally i wouldnt care but im so tired and so stressed that im just sobbing

[leonfucker3000]

under the mistletoe

married!Leon S Kennedy x engaged!fem!reader

Warnings: 16+, cheating, sex with feelings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving),bathroom sex, mirror sex, modern au but not really because I know their dumbasses don’t have enough friends for a Christmas party, reader has morals until she doesn’t

wc: 2.5k

Yap: I wrote this last year for smutmas LMFAO, posting it here so I’m not forgotten, IM WORKING ON STUFF I SWEAR !! The ending is rushed and bad, and Leon says some corny fucking shit

not proofread, sorry chat

Arm-in-arm with Chris, you make your way up the snowy steps of the brown-bricked house. From the front patio, you could hear the faint sounds of Christmas music and bottles popping.

“I thought you said this was gonna be small.” a faint murmur comes from your lips, disappointment clear in your face from the lie your fiancé told you to get you here. You told him before you weren’t interested in anything noisy or busy or crowded , even told him to visit his friends alone and that you’d be fine waiting for him to get back.

“That’s what they told me too, we can head back—”

“It’s fine. Not gonna keep you from your friends.” Just don’t expect me to be social, you want to add on, but don’t due to the small smile on his face. He’s sweet. Ignorant, but sweet. In his own way, you suppose. 

You’re hit with overpowering peppermint and alcohol scent when you walk through the door, christmas spirit aside, the inside looks nice. Warm, inviting, homey, where you should be with Chris but he’s – he presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering a small I’ll be back as he goes to find his buddies – gone. 

A price to pay for future happiness.

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

You try to distract yourself, pleasantries to mutual friends and others you definitely (do not) remember. If you had more sleep the night before, maybe you’d be up for drinks and dancing and actual conversation rather than this. Whatever this is. “Don’t look too happy to be here either.” A gruff voice from behind you snaps you out of your trance. 

“Weren’t you the one that invited us, Leon?” You click your tongue as you turn around to face him, he looks tired but prettily so. Fucker.  

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Not one for these, thought you knew me better. Just thought that I’d enjoy it more with people…” he looks you up and down for a fleeting moment, “...like me.”

“Like you in what sense? Alcoholic or asshole?” 

“Both, either, neither. Just wanted to see some friends, that’s all.”

You hum and motion with your head, “Chris is over there. Not here.”

“I know.”

The both of you are silent, no matter what you say, you’re sure Leon has a counter. A quip, a joke, something that’s definitely going to get the both of you in trouble. “Guess we’re going with Alcoholic You, then. Drinks?”

“And you say we’re not friends. Let’s go.” He says with a hand sliding to the small of your back, resting right above your ass – too close, too risky for a married man and an engaged woman, too stupid. You bite your tongue and let him lead you to the host’s makeshift bar, saying anything is a reaction and a reaction is what he wants, at least you assume so.

“We’re not. You know this, I know this, maybe even God if we dig deep enough.”

“Okay, well, it’s not that deep so let’s just have a nice night as friends, yeah?”

A sigh leaves you for the nth time that night, “Sure.”

Moving through the seemingly never-ending crowd of drunk couples, you’re soon to realize your mistake of keeping quiet when he stops and looks up, then back at you. Eyebrows furrowed and mood shifted, you follow his eyes up and – “Absolutely not.” a fucking mistletoe. You saw other people under the mistletoe who were most definitely in committed relationships kiss others but that’s not you . You thought it wasn’t him either from the way he looked at Ada. Another terrible assumption.

Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s tradition. ‘S just a kiss, doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything if we were both single, but we’re very much fucking not, so–”

“No one’s looking, just us. Chris won’t mind, Ada…won’t either.” A weak excuse, both the mistletoe and his pathetic they don’t need to know . “Friends kiss.”

“Right, you mean unmarried ones. On the cheek. Platonically.”

“Will you just–” He groans as he cups your face in his hands and pulls you to meet his lips, sloppily and messily kissing you and licking the seam of your lips. You stumble and he pushes you against the kitchen archway, guests too unbothered to realize what’s going on in front of them. For a moment, you kiss back, hands tugging on his hair – girlfriend, fiancée, wife – you pull away with a sharp gasp, heavy worry and guilt.  

Now you really need that fucking drink.

You blink up at him, “Wish I could’ve done more.” He speaks, fighting himself for being weak but also not regretting a thing because it’s you and he definitely wants you. “Looking real pretty tonight and Chris is an idiot for leaving his soon-to-be-wife alone. So really, this is his fault.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” 

“For you.”

You hate him for going against your wishes, hate him for making a joke about it, hate the fact that despite everything, you liked it . Whore, Slut, Hoe, all of the above and definitely not the loyal fiancée you promised you’d be. “This can’t–can’t happen again.”

“Right.” He whispers, soft and hushed, had you not known any better, you might’ve thought he was sorry.

You turn to leave and avoid him for the rest of the night, suddenly feeling confident enough to be social after all to get your mind off what the fuck just happened. But nothing works. Not drinks or jokes or even Chris himself. Ironically, he points out the mistletoe and drags you under it to kiss you. 

It’s firm, possessive and used to make you feel giddy but all you feel right now is unadulterated shame. All that’s swirling through your mind isn’t the loops of red and green christmas streamers and tinsel – it’s Leon. You two didn’t even talk much, don’t know how you caught his eye or why he’d want you when he has a pretty wife of 2 years with him.

You pull away and Chris gives you another quick peck, “Know you don’t like stuff like this, I appreciate it, really.” he whispers, and you feel like a bitch again. He’s so – he’s too good for you. “When we get back, ‘ll make sure to make it up to you.” 

You smile, all weary and shy, too bad while he’s fucking you, you’ll be imagining someone else. “Can’t wait.” Before you can even be pulled away by Chris again, a hand slides up your back and another on Chris’ shoulder. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Someone saw you and is going to tell Chris. Say goodbye to stability and long-lasted love and–  

“Get a room, will you?” Leon says as he pats Chris’ shoulder, a little more forceful than needed, but if Chris noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Had Ada rolling her eyes at the two of you more than usual. A new record.”

You force a tight smile while Chris is at ease, “Of course you two have the most shit to say.” he chuckles.

“Mhm, yeah, so, mind if I borrow you for a minute?” Leon’s hand falls from Chris’ shoulder as he looks at you.

“Um.” Chris was a patient man, really was, but if you’re uncomfortable, he’s uncomfortable, and right now–

“Sure, just make it quick.” You mutter, glancing at Chris with a nervous smile, “I’ll be back.” 

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

How you ended up in a half-bathroom with Leon, perched up onto the sink counter with your legs wrapped around his waist will always be beyond you. He kissed you like he did before, almost holding no rhythm as he did it like it’d be the last time. “Fucking–” he groaned, “beautiful.” He pulled away briefly to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Shouldn’t be admitting that, it's– oh –not okay.” It’s definitely not okay that you’re here with him, and it’s definitely not okay that him biting you is enough to make you shudder. How the fuck are you going to explain this to Chris? Leon bit me to test out my skin durability? 

“I know, just can’t help it when it’s you. Sweet girl, always on my mind.” He tried, really did. Tried being happy when Chris introduced you, tried ignoring how sweet you looked, tried ignoring you and the image of eating you out that kept him warm on many lonely nights. Couldn’t even do it with Ada without your face popping up in his head when he came. “Would ask if you thought of me, too, but I guess we both know the answer to that.” 

He knew, knew that as much as he wanted you, up until now it was Chris. The hopeful part of him convinces himself you just buried it deep down like him and that’s why he can finally be between your pretty legs, pressed up against your pretty body and soon enough, pretty pussy. You make him feel dizzy.

“Leon–” 

“Yeah, just keep sayin’ my name and that’ll make it better.” He kisses you for good measure, thinks that if you say anything other than his name or oh god, he’ll lose it. You tug on his hair again and he groans, “Let me eat you out, needa give that pretty pussy just as much kisses.”

He doesn’t give you time to retaliate or even think about what he said before pushing your dress up and dropping to his knees, kissing up your thighs and removing your panties. He makes sure to put your legs over his shoulders, tongue delving right onto your pussy. Your fingers latch onto his hair and he gives you a muffled groan.

Your plush thighs push against his face and, fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever had, he won’t need alcohol after this because you’re just as addicting, if not more, as he drinks in your pussy like he’s parched. “ Fuckk ,” he groans into you, all muffled and slurred “ tastes so fucking good.” 

Your legs are shaking and thank-fucking-god you’re sitting on the sink counter, music blasts from outside as you pant and moan while his tongue flicks with fucking talent. His mouth makes you feel dizzy, even more so when he plunges two fingers inside your cunt, his eyebrows furrow when you pull particularly hard – heaven is what he thinks.

He concentrates his lips and tongue on your clit as you rock against his face, “ Leon,” you gasp, nearly crying out above him and yes, his imagination didn’t do you any justice because his name falling from your lips is a wet dream. 

He taps your thigh, voice all hoarse and strained, “Gotta keep quiet, can’t have them seeing you like this – this is for me .” He’s so hard it hurts but he’ll endure anything just so you’ll come on his fingers and tongue.

You whine, biting your lip to keep in your sounds and he feels your body trembling , the pressure of his tongue was insistent and your body twitched when his fingers aligned with the rhythm of his tongue, “oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck,’ you cover your mouth as you let out a muffled cry, legs wrapping around his head so tight he can barely breathe but holy shit does he not care.

You come, blissed out and shaking – he thinks you’re pretty. He’s an idiot for this, he really doesn’t care. 

He presses a small kiss to your thigh, getting up off his knees as his thumb rubs small circles on your skin, “You okay?” he whispers, mouth sore and dick straining against his pants makes his voice low. 

“Mmhmm,” you reply dumbly and slurred, “never better.”

He feels pride swell up in his chest when you say that, he made you feel good – better than Chris keeps replaying in his mind. “Not done with you yet, can you stand?”

“Maybe in 5 minutes.” He doesn’t have 5 minutes, you don't have 5 minutes – he needs it now. He helps you off the counter and pushes you forward, bending you over the sink. You faintly hear the sound of fabric and metal before feeling him slide between your folds and nudge against your entrance. “Leon–”

“Need it, honey. Gonna give it to me, yeah?”

Fuck it, you’ve made it this far. “Yeah.” you say breathlessly. 

You can’t mutter out another word when he doesn’t wait a second more to slide into you, his nails dimpling spots on your hips when he grips tighter. You cry out when he pulls out and shoves himself to the hilt, his left hand covering your mouth, “ Quiet.” he hisses, groaning when he snaps his hips again, not stopping until his rhythm is relentless. 

Whines and moans are faded against his hand, he’s panting and groaning against your ear, “Feels –fuckk – so much fucking better than I imagined.” he pulls his hand and your head back a little so you’re looking in the mirror. Fuck explaining a bite mark to Chris – you’re a mess. Sweat dripping from your forehead and eyes glossy as you look blissed out and absolutely fucked . “See that?” he shudders, “That’s us, you don’t take your fucking eyes off it.” 

You nod quickly against his hand as the room fills with the sound of skin against skin and choked back moans and panting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look in the mirror, Leon’s face is flushed and his hair is wet with sweat as he fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. 

He watches your face as you take all of him, all pretty and teary-eyed, you’ve ruined him for everyone else. “I'm gonna come again,” your voice is faint against his hand, barely able to even get out any words because he has you teetering on the edge as his balls slap against your clit. You feel yourself tightening around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Shit–that right?” You nod eagerly as you keep your eyes on him, “atta girl, ‘m gonna get at least 3 out of you.”

“I c’nt–” 

“Yes you can,” he slurs, “for me, you fucking can.”

Your walls clamp down on him hard, spasming from your second orgasm, and he moans. He bites his lip as he pulls out, warm come spurting on your ass as he holds onto the counter in front of you for balance, chest pressed against your back. ‘ Fuck. ” he moans.

Your eyelids flutter when he licks his lips and presses a small kiss onto your shoulder. “Jesus Christ, leon. I dunno if I can…do another.” you pant.

“Don’t have a choice, honey, just need you ontop of me.”

You open your mouth to speak but a sharp knock hits against the bathroom door, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I gotta piss n – oh okay.” footsteps retreat and you look at Leon, huffing out a small laugh.

“Gonna have to wait.”

“A real shame.’

You straighten yourself on shaky legs and look in the mirror, “oh my fucking–”

“I’ll get you an Uber and tell Chris you started feeling sick.” he offers. Right. Chris. Fiancé, love of your life Chris. Shit. “It was worth it.” he breaks your train of thought, “Good thing we didn’t break tradition.”

You swallow. “Right.”

He kisses you, slower this time.

Happy-fucking-holidays to you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x you #leonfucker3000 #♱ . * . * 3000s Fics

[dennisboobs]

i'm chronically nosy i had to go find what u were talking about on twitter and man it's wild how comfortable people are with the transvestigating thing because they think it's funny. why are they validating the real transphobe even jokingly....

i don't fucking knowwwwww. i got fucking blasted on twitter for being like. have none of you actually experienced irl bigotry because i have and it's not something i would actively choose to emulate????? in any context????

like this is what was happening back in october. yeah, very cool, very funny to quote tweet a guy calling glenn a fag for tweeting in support of california legalizing gay marriage and say he was "ahead of his time". for. using a slur. everyone is so fucking irony brainrotted it hurts.

and again.

just an ounce of self awareness..... please.... anyone........ how do you almost get there and yet not see the problem.....

#ask ada #people are gonna fucking call me cringe for this but i'm just. blown away at how goddamn stupid sunnytwt mamages to be #consistently. #how do you just. not have a problem with this. #nevermind the fact that everyone's like 'lmao true he is a woman' but. if he WAS. stealth trans... #are you really dying on that hill and misgendering him bc you're (whether jokingly or not) clocking him as 'afab'???? #and then insisting he is a woman despite transitioning?!??!?!?!?!? im ???? ? ? #you are no better than the fuckin transvestigators #this bitch is doing the same thing. putting 'his' in quotes and saying he will never be able to hide 'his female frame' #ITS. DERANGED. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS SHIT. BE NORMAL #if your jokes are indistinguishable from actual bigotry you need to shut the hell up 💕💕💕💕 #also. if youre IN this post. just. think about it. i'm not trying to start shit i just need y'all to fuckin consider how this affects ppl #whether its self hatred deflected back outward or ur doing it unthinkingly bc the rest of twt is also doing it #🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

[inamagicalhallucination]

fic where 18 yrs old dazai meets 14 yrs old atsushi (right after leaving the mafia ig) and w/o thinking takes him with him and they spend the two years on the run together (dazai becuz anytime he tries to abandon the orphan he picked up w/o thought oda flashes into his mind and ultimately he grows to care for him) (atsushi becuz the weird bandage guy pinkie promised he could ride on one of those trains he's seen in books)

anyway

dazai and atsushi dont look alike or have the same name so the ada picks up they arent related by blood real quick

anytime anyone asks how they met, they honestly answer "i/dazai kidnapped him/me" but everyone thinks its a joke

atsushi wins dazai over gradually, like small moments, small moments of kindness shown for dazai, small moments of seeing atsushi's real non-trauma made personality seeping through , he doesn't even realize it until it hits all at once how much he cares for atsushi

atsushi on the other hand was sold because dazai could make him laugh

//

also sskk where atsushi takes his bf to meet his brother and akutagawa and dazai do the spiderman meme

//

also dazai finds out atsushi's ability becuz at some point he comes to their hideout or whatever and a giant tiger is sitting there and before he can even panic it happily jumps at him and boom atsushi

//

in this particular au, dazai lets atsushi doodle anywhere like dazai's bandages and his books becuz its better than having to actually engage with the child and eventually gets atsushi an actual sketchbook and the two spend their time drawing, atsushi's sketches get better dazai's get worse but atsushi sometimes thinks its becuz dazai's silly and scary sketches make him laugh

//

there has to be a scene where someone asks atsushi what he's doing here, after dazai's joined the ada, and atsushi's like "im here w/ my brother" and looks at dazai, sees him poorly flirting w/ kunikida and irritating him and gets so much second hand embarrassment he points at ranpo instead

//

atsushi knows dazai was in the mafia but he thinks double black was just dazai's cringy ship name for his ex boyfriend

//

okay thats all i can think of now ill add more maybe

#atsushi nakajima #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bsd atsushi #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #sskk #dazai #dazai and atsushi #bungou stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #shin soukoku #skk #soukoku #kunikidazai #atsushi and the ada #dazai and oda #dazai and the ada #ada dazai #the ada #ada as family

[virgincels]

STAY SOFT, GET EATEN !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. p in v, incest, dub-con that is basically non-con idk

note. unedited cuz i got lazy omg. umm ignore typos :3 sorry my writing is so jolty lately im finding it hard to write so it’s all coming off very clunky but :3 rbs n feedback appreciated !! this is like not actually that smutty I’m sorry 💔 if u see me reusing bits from other old fics pretend it’s new

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Your dad is hot, an indisputable fact. He’s a total babe, kinda looks like he should’ve been in Baywatch during his prime, got a rack that rivals C. J. Parker’s. Ever since you hit twelve, and the girls in your class suddenly got all boy crazy, you’ve been hearing nonstop about how cute dad is.

Sleepovers were held at yours so they could get a glimpse of him, and your dad might be friendly, but he’s clumsy with conversation, not much of a talker, so he made himself scarce. Then came the slew of questions, you think it was Ashley Graham, the one that didn’t know how to quit it. Airheaded with eyes like chipped peridot.

Hey, where’s your mom? Is she still around, I’ve never heard about her? What kinda girl does your dad like?

My dad doesn’t like kids, freak.

He might, and I’m not a kid! I mean, I turn thirteen in January. I bought a bra at PINK the other day, I even got measured, the lady said I’m an A cup.

Even my dad's are bigger than that, loser.

I’m, like, so not a loser! My mom said I could get a boob job when I turn sixteen, and by then your dad will be, like, what? Thirty?

He’ll be forty-three, dumbass.

Yeah, forty-three, that’s perfect. We can date then as long as you don’t have a mom. I did see a picture on your desk, but that’s your sister right? ‘Cause if that’s your mom, she never picks you up from school, so she’s either dead or they broke up or she hates you, right? I’m so right, aren’t I?

You’re wrong, stupid. My mom just works a lot.

Boo, I totally thought she was dead, well, whatever, if they break up by the time I hit sixteen, I’ll totally be your new step-mom.

For a lack of better words, you wanted that bitch dead. She meant well, you’ve just never met someone so out of touch, the type of girl that hands out Chanel handbags at the food bank.

A few years later, when you turned eighteen, it was Ada Wong, you had this co-dependent, whirlwind friendship that had you by the throat. She was cool, a few years older, and everyone thought she was hot. You were lame, and wanted everyone to think you were hot. What you don’t understand is how on earth it ended with her hand down the front of your dad’s pants at your graduation party. He was totally out of it too, she took advantage of a poor, drunk old man, and the worst part about it? That wasn’t what made you mad. Not that she touched him when he was slurring, tripping over his own feet, you were mad ‘cause she got to touch him in the first place.

When you tell your counsellor, I have a crush on my dad, she falters. She’s this older lady that reminds you of your Auntie Claire, they have the same button nose, and that makes it harder to talk to her. She presents herself professionally, and takes herself a little too seriously, also in the way Auntie Claire does at times. Bitch thinks she’s a psychologist. She has an office tucked right into the corner of your university’s humanities department.

“Well, is your dad absent?” She starts, chews on the lid of her ballpoint pen, the type you get in a pack of two hundred. See, if she were a real psychologist, she’d have a fancy one, with runny ink, and a metallic barrel.

“No, my dad raised me.” Your lips twitch upwards, wanting to scowl at her. ‘Cause this is your thirteenth session, and she knows how close you are to dad.

“Well, then, has your dad ever hit you?” She blinks real slow like it hurts to blink.

“What? No, never.” You’ve asked me these questions before, you stuck-up cow.

“Well, then,” Her eye twitches, you think she might report you to the authorities for being a freak, “Has he ever behaved inappropriately with you?”

The worst your dad has done is ask if you’re on birth control, only once, and he was rightfully worried. “Never, he would never do that.” I don’t know if you’ve been listening, I’m the one that wants to sit on his dick.

She taps her nail on the oak desk, popping open a button on her blouse. Some counsellor she is, mouth drying up ‘cause you have a crush on your dad. “Listen, if it’s not me overstepping boundaries, or being impolite, I’d like to refer you to a therapist.”

No fucking way. Jackpot. You’ve been waiting three months for this, all it took for her to cut the crap was an incestual confession? Although, you really do need to get that fixed, there’s this part of your brain, the cerebellum you believe, that’s been cut out and replaced by a hunk of meat that resembles your father. Whoever did it made a shoddy malpractical mess that you’re left to clean up with scarce supplies and medical knowledge.

“I'd really appreciate that.” You tell her, mustering your toothiest of grins as you pack up your shit and pass through the doorway, never to turn back to advice that consists solely of ‘talk it out’ and ‘use daily affirmations’ and other baseline shit they cover in Cosmopolitan articles you could read for free.

Therapy turns out to be no help. Not ‘cause of the content of the session, this is your first one actually, more ‘cause your therapist resembles dad. A little more on the polished side than your father, with salt and pepper hair that would look so good on him. Leon refuses though, to grow old, that is, to look anything more than thirty - he’s far past that, you think he’s looked old ever since you were born.

It’s going to be a distraction, you might leap out of your seat and fuck this man half to death if he scoots his chair any closer, if he keeps scratching his chin in the way dad does. There’s a copy of Nineteen-Eighteen-Four on the desk behind him, the one with the fabric cover to be specific, embellished by tiny labouring hands to sit pretty on the best-seller shelf in some overpriced independent bookstore. More importantly, it’s the copy that collects dust on your dad’s bedside, the one he insists to have read, but the pages still have that fresh scent to them, and not a single one is dog-eared.

There’s a ring on his ring finger, just like dad’s, and that might be a stretch, ‘cause every married man has a ring on their ring finger. Still reminds you of dad though. His is gold, and dad’s is silver ‘cause mom likes silver. You like silver ‘cause it looks pretty on dad.

He introduces himself, his way of speech is refined, and you can tell he thinks before he speaks unlike dad. Leon is clunky with words, oftentimes crude without realising. Cancellation and no-show fees, your rights, confidentiality, he runs you through all of it - the whole time you’re focused on his lips, the prominent curve of his Cupid’s bow, the double lip line that makes them appear fuller from afar. Just like dad’s lips.

The receptionist frowns when you request to see another therapist, then she begins to click, click, click away at her keyboard. She stops midway to file her nails, then she pops her gum and gives a very simple shake of the head, ponytail moving with her. You doubt the slow bitch even tried, so you make your way home, a heat in your stomach that refuses to fizzle out, an ache so deep only dad could reach it. With his dick, obviously.

Dad’s keys jingle and you hear wedding bells. You check the time, he’s home early, he toes off his shoes and tucks them into the cubby hole shelf mom placed by the door. She’d be down his throat if he left them scattered for her to trip over again.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon smiles kindly, the same smile that’s seen you throughout your life. The one he gave you when he first held you, the one he gave you when you fell off your bike, and he brushed the crumbly gravel off your knees and kissed the tender scrapes on both. When you graduated, and he held back tears but acted all tough about it, he smiled all the same.

“Hi, dad.” The one you give in return is meek, the apples of your cheeks refusing to raise upwards into your eye-line.

“Oh,” Dad is perceptive, he throws his jacket over the bannister, keys tucked into one of it’s unzipped pocket - they dangle haphazardly, and you’re sure he’ll forget about them and toss that jacket in the washing machine, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrug Leon’s hand off of your shoulder when he takes the seat adjacent to you. It’s cruel, the expression on his face sours, your heart lurches. Making him upset is your farthest intention, you just don’t know how much skin to skin contact you can handle with him.

Nonetheless, it was the wrong move, ‘cause he shuffles closer, “Hey now, don’t push me out, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, I promise, nothing's up.” You aim to soothe him with your words, but his agitation grows, your discomfort is palpable - he tastes it on his tongue, it’s the blood in the back of his throat. There’s no getting past him. “Therapy was bad.” No harm in telling a lie or two.

“Therapy,” Leon waves his hand through a nonexistent cloud of smoke, “You don’t need that.”

Here we go. All you need is a hug from dad! A kiss from dad. And you’ll be all better, sweetheart.

“I do, dad.” You glare at him, he smooths his thumb over your wrinkled brow and your heart drops to your ass. Dad needs to stop touching you before you touch him back, that’s a silent threat, your fingers twitch to grab him, mould his soft flesh into the shape of your fingertips.

“I did a good job with you,” Leon states, “My dad—“

My dad hit me, my dad threw me through a glass table once, busted my ass and made me crawl through the shattered glass and then he set wild dogs on me - your grandma just watched - I been through all that and I don’t need to go to therapy. He says something along those lines, albeit less cinematically thrilling.

“You did a very good job with me,” You nod, reassure him in a maternal tone almost ‘cause all dads are children that need to be praised, “It’s not your fault, dad, I love you lots.” Well, it is, for raising you so well, maybe he raised you too well. Or maybe you’re just a bit sick in the head, or maybe it’s his fault for looking how he looks.

“Then you don’t need therapy,” He sinks back into his dent in the leather couch, “You just need a hug, bring it in, kid.”

No, no, no. You do your best to fend him off, all for his own sake, but he draws you close to his chest, smothers you by pushing your face right into the dip. He smells good, cologne gradually having worn off as the day progressed, the slightly tangy undertone of his sweat coming through.

“And a kiss.” He coos at you, pinches your cheek, clicks his tongue in an attempt to coax you.

God, no. Don’t kiss me. Don’t do that— Mwah! Smack bang on your forehead as he tips your chin upwards, blinking down at you with sticky toffee lashes. And you, stupidly, in your lovestruck haze, pull him in to place the most disgusting, sloppy kiss on his lips - one that does little to hide your ardour for dad.

Leon’s neck almost snaps with how fast he pulls back, then he stares at you open-mouthed, and you hate to say it, but you’d kiss his lips swollen again. A man of his age, especially your father, should not be pretty or doll-lipped, but he is and you hate it. He’s your hamartia of sorts.

“Sweetheart…” Dad shambles aimlessly through his words, umming and ahing.

“Oh, god, you totally think I’m a freak, right?” You take your hands off of his chest, where they had been firmly planted, giving him a real good squeeze without even realising. “Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it just came out, you were just really close to me and I got nervous.” Now you sound like him, a lack of conversational tact is exactly what you got from dad.

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just give dad a minute.” He pats your shoulder, then he stands up, about to march on forward to grab his keys and leave. You know your dad, so you take his wrist in your hand, beg him to face you.

“Dad… I’m sorry, can you look at me?” You add a ‘please’ in the most desperate tone you can manage, brows slanting downwards as your bottom lip trembles.

Leon struggles to do so, his arm flexes when he tenses, stiffening in your grip. He sits back down when you begin to sniffle, too lamb-hearted to sit through your fit of tears. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Dad rubs your back, but he avoids moving his face close like he usually would, this is his cue to kiss the tears from your cheeks, but he doesn’t.

“It’s not, dad,” You hiccup, choking on an ugly sob that manifests into an even uglier yelp, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m just really lonely.”

“Baby,” Leon’s voice is sweet like a glacé cherry, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that, I didn’t know you were lonely.”

You are, but that’s not why you kissed dad. You kissed dad out of your own free will, ‘cause you’re in love with him. “I am really lonely, dad, I don’t know what to do.” The snot and tears don’t bother him, he wipes it away with the back of his hand. You’re his baby, you know that. So if he can do that, why can’t he fuck you? It’s ugly in the same way, he’ll wipe his load off your stomach instead, or your ass if he wants to take you from the back.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can— we can fix that, I promise.” The only thing you need him to fix is the leak you’ve sprung, plug it up or whatever. “There’s no use cryin’ about it, alright? Dad doesn’t like seeing you cry.”

His guard drops, and you’re kissing him again, harder, till he’s breathless and confused and yet unable to push you off. ‘Cause dad is so weak-willed when it comes to you. If only you’d had the guts to get to him sooner. “I won’t cry… I won’t cry if you kiss me, dad, I promise.” It’s a shitty tactic, threats, making dad’s heart jump like that - gonna send him into cardiac arrest.

Leon hesitates, softens like butter when your hands come to fist the fabric of his shirt, “Okay, just, just a kiss, alright? And mom can’t find out ‘bout this.” He stammers, cupping your face in his big hands, his fingers trembling. “And… And just one, yeah?” His flimsy assertion of dominance has your lips curving into the slightest of smiles, dad’s cute.

“Just one.” You agree, his spiky lashes cast shadows on his face, he shuts his eyes tight as your lips ghost over his for a moment, then you take his face in your hands and press them together. Lip to lip. Heart to heart. You swing a leg over his, situating yourself in his lap. Leon’s eyes open, no longer bracing as he glances down at your spread thighs, then up at your face.

“What’s up?” Leon tries, it’s hard to miss the apprehensive edge to his tone, how he burrows backwards into the couch pillows, shoulders shrinking to get away from you. His kid.

He’s not moving. Not pushing you off, which he could easily do, not calling mom and telling her you need to be checked into a ward of some kind - with others akin to you. Would be like a slumber party really, getting to indulge in fantasies that haven’t left the confines of your sick little head. Dad is looking on ahead, glassy-eyed and sad. And you kind of get it now, what you’ve heard about dad being easy back when he was younger. Not easy, but soft. Pliant against his own will, even when he has the capacity to say no, you’ve given him plenty of chances to say no.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.” That’s a promise, you’re worked up from therapy with the cleaner version of dad. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to do this ever again.” Unless you want too is left unsaid. You hope the implications are clear enough, that he’s picking up what you’re putting down, but dad is slow in that sense. He’s a hands-on type of guy.

You give him a minute, dad blinks, and there’s no explicit refusal, so you lift up to wriggle out of your jeans. Dad’s come undone a little easier, he raises his hips when you ask him to do so, and he flinches when you unzip them - fingers coming into contact with the softness of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Leon’s not hard. It’s a blow to your already crippled ego, then again you’ve heard mom talk about Viagra to him before - so maybe it’s not a ‘my kid is groping my dick’ issue, but more of an old age issue.

The tip is velvety on your skin when you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband to tug them down, with the way he’s reclined back in his seat, his dick flops onto his stomach. Heavy and stagnant, much like dad himself. Doesn’t spring up and whack you in the face like dicks tend to do in porn, doesn’t have a mind of its own, it just sits there awkwardly.

Leon closes his eyes, you notice how ragged his breathing is and wonder if he’s getting any enjoyment out of this, or if he’s two minutes away from flatlining. To comfort him, you stroke a hand over his cheek, fingers curling beneath his square jaw as your other hand curls around his flaccid cock. He flinches, and for the first time in your life, you see dad cry. And it turns you on. The last time was when you were born, you don’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but he reiterates it every birthday.

“Oh, dad,” Your brows knit together, “I didn’t… Please don’t cry, I really didn’t mean to upset you, dad. Gosh, I’m just, I just needed to do this dad— Can you speak to me, please? I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon’s voice wavers, his body is wracked with shivers, chills prickling his spine, “I want to make you happy.” You’re all he's got, you and mom are the only speck of normalcy in dad’s life and you’ve gone and ruined it. For reasons even your counsellor couldn’t process, reasons that are unfathomable to you. A prion disease so severe that even your therapist likely fears there’s no chance. “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and your stomach hurts.

“Dad, don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” You lift your hips once more, spitting on your palm and smearing it over his dick has done little for lube, but he’s not all that big - and you’re dripping down your thighs, it’ll be an easy fit, ‘cause dad made you. Half of you is him, and that means he’ll be just right. “It’s not your fault.” You tell him, but you doubt it lifts the guilt from his shoulders, it weighs down his tender heart instead.

Dad doesn’t think that way. He blames everything on himself. Leon’s the one that raised you, he's the one that went wrong. You don’t know how else to tell him there’s something sick inside your head, and it’s infected every single part of you.

It’s hard to guide him into your hole, the tip bumps over your twitching clit a couple of times, up and down your slippery folds as you try to line him up. Leon’s face twists when you take him in, walls breached by the tip alone, you wonder if he’s relieved to find out you’re a virgin. You’ve been saving it for dad, didn’t know the opportunity would come so soon. Your cunt squelches when you take him to the hilt, squeezing around his shaft till he hardens inside of you. There we go, so dad does like you after all? Or is this a natural response? Or is he thinking of someone else, his eyes have been closed for an awfully long time.

“Dad, will you look at me, please?” That’s the second time you’ve asked so nicely and he obeys all the same, cracking open his eyes, foggy like stained glass, just as bright too.

Two hands come to rest on your torso, Leon’s keeping you at arms length. You want dad to let you in. The rocking off your hips elicits the slightest groan from his parted lips, you grind yourself into his lap, fat head leaking and jabbing at that spongy spot deep inside. See? Dad’s made for you. Dad knows you.

“Dad,” You whimper, clammy forehead sticking to his, the tip of your nose bumping his broad one, it’s romantic you think. In the same way A View from the Bridge is romantic - to you and you only. “I love you… I love you so much.” His hips jolt upwards, dad’s sensitive you suppose, he didn’t mean to do it ‘cause his face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust.

Shakily, you take his bigger hand in yours, he’s limp in your grip. You jam his hand between your sweaty bodies, force him to rub them against your thrumming clit. Dad does it. ‘Cause he loves you, if you didn’t get that by now. His thumb rubs figure eights into your bud, the nimble touch, along with dad’s dick right where you want it, lodged deep inside your pussy - it tips you right over the edge.

Your thighs tremble, snapping shut around his hand, and his cock slips out. He’s only got a semi, or maybe he came earlier, but you don’t know much about dick specifics so you curl into his chest, and dad holds you tight even after you totally violated the poor guy.

“Should clean up ‘fore mom gets home.” Leon’s voice is unsteady, lilting up and down, all over the place. God, did you make dad cry again, you stupid bitch?

“Yeah,” You agree, scratching the back of your head ‘cause what do you even say after fucking your dad? Couldn’t even ask google that. “Dad, do you still like me?”

“I love you,” He answers instinctively, “I’ll love you no matter what you do to me, kid.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[thisgodwontforgiveyou]

i miss ada

#so many god damn games until i get to ada and the ada im getting to is the horribly re6 design that made her white #BUT ITS BETTER THAN THIS SHIT

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon smut #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #resident evil 4 remake #re4r!leon kennedy x reader #re2r!leon kennedy x reader #death island leon #death island #death island leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leonscottkennedy #leon kennedy x ada wong #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanart #resident evil x reader #re4 remake #re4 #long reads #leon kennedy fanfic #re2 remake #re2 leon

[so-mordor-itis]

Behind Her Eyes

Synopsis: Ada continues to track down the amber while also running into you and Leon time and time again. Hopefully, she won't have any more distractions than she has been given. After all, she's just doing her job.

Sequel to Through Her Eyes

N/A: THIS IS BEEFY!! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!

WC: 3k.

Taglist: @amatxs , @airanke , @uhlunaro , @honeyfict , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @pepsicolacoochie , @inaflashimagine , @phoenix666stuff , @rentaldarling , @boiled-onionrings , @auxenpin-it , @starbirdfinch , @m4nd0l0r , @mahalaraewolfe , @mobbbb1 , @konigbabe , @izuniias , @tosuckmyweenis @boundinparchment

"You long to be bandaged before you have been cut." –Margaret Atwood

—

"You can stop right there, Leon. Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" Ada had pressed her pistol to one of his shoulder blades. She cocked it, letting it sit against his shirt for a second. She wanted him to know she was willing to use it if required. She meant business.

Leon dropped his weapon a second later. "Well, after six years, that's one hell of a greeting, Ada." He said her name with a bit of a bite. Not quite a sneer, but teetering toward that territory. "What's the occasion?"

Ada just smirked, tilting her head to the side. She wanted to get under his skin, because if she didn't he wouldn't be curious, and if he didn't become curious then her plan of action to steer him away from the amber would fall through the floor. He may have become more rigid with his movements, a bit snappier with his sentences, but he was still the same rookie cop she met back in Raccoon. "You don't seem surprised. Interesting."

With a single step, he attempted to grab the gun from her hand. Ada retaliated, leading to dance with Leon's knife. She blocked it several times, hoping to lead it away from anything fatal. He caught her slightly off guard when the hilt of his blade touched the red turtleneck she was wearing, and she paused. Maybe he had learned more than she thought.

"Try using knives next time," Leon said, "Better for close encounters."

"Very smooth," Ada responded. "You've learned a few tricks."

Leon ignored her comment. "Who are you working for this time? Definitely not the FBI."

"Oh, Leon," Ada tutted. "You know I don't work and tell."

Leon released the knife from her throat, placing it back into the pouch on his left shoulder. Ada observed him for a moment. He was wary, she could tell from the way he was looking around the room. Ada had a bite back a frown. His eyes were different now. His pupils were yellowish, and whites were now a bit cloudy. They must've drugged him, or maybe he was infected like the girl and the rest of Saddler's lackies. She didn't comment on it. Wasn't her place.

She didn't know what happened to you if you two split up or you simply wandered from him and lost your footing. All she knew was that she found him in this room and finally decided to show herself–well, more than she had when he was being attacked by the taller man in the trench coat. Though she had to admit it was intriguing that you weren't with him.

"Where's your little partner?" Ada asked, "I'd thought they'd be tagging alongside you."

Leon furrowed his brows. "That's something I'd like to know, too. I turned my back for one second, and suddenly, they're gone. This whole damn castle is a maze." He wasn't surprised Ada knew about you, either.

"How troubling," she murmured.

Leon didn't reply. He was lost in his own thoughts. His right hand clenched into a fist. A plan was swimming in his mind, but Ada didn't want to concentrate too hard on him.

"You should give up on the girl," she continued. "She's lost no matter what." Ada eyed the window, moonlight shining through in brilliant lines of white. She couldn't stay much longer. "You walk away now, and who knows? I might give you the greeting you were hoping for."

Leon didn't look impressed, and that made something coil in Ada's chest. "You think I'm gonna give up? Simply leave? You're wrong for thinking so." His voice was laced with annoyance.

Ada just looked at him. "Right." Opening the window, she used her grappling hook to latch onto one of the ledges of the castle. "See you around, Leon."

Though he tried to look more irritated, she saw his eyes soften for a slight second–or maybe her mind was starting to slip. She was a bit tired, but she couldn't give that any thought. Ada shook that off her shoulders the moment she landed on one of the roof shingles. One crunched under her foot as she prepared to give another report to Wesker.

–

She found you before he did. You were out of bullets, poor thing.

Hunched over a chair, you were taking a glimpse at an old map of the castle. The paper was brown and torn apart, it would've been a miracle if you could've actually interpreted the damn thing.

"Fuck," you moaned. "Why did they have to build so many passages? What is this, the 1500s?"

Ada had to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. You and Leon were definitely a lot alike. You both spoke to yourselves, talking as if there was an audience. She wondered what the point was, if it gave you two satisfaction.

A sudden thump echoed from one of the many doors in the room. Robed figures, all muttering phrases in Spanish, carried torches and maces. Your face soured into a deeply tired look. From what Ada could understand, you had empty rounds, and your knife was broken–it was on top of the table you placed the map upon, the metal pieces covering the brown paper.

The figures got closer to you, and Ada watched as your eyes fixated on one of the doors. You could try to make a run for it, bolt to the door in hopes you could find more resources. Though, how realistic is that? Ada thought.

She found herself subconsciously feeling for one of her flash grenades. Was she really going to help you at the cost of her own resources? That'd be a bit of a waste. She could easily find herself in a similar situation.

Though it would turn out she didn't need to. Your eyes brightened as you shuffled for something in your pocket. A grenade of your own, but not of the flash variety. You pulled the trigger with your teeth before tossing it.

She flew through the window to avoid the blast. From where she was, she would've definitely felt something.

Ada was a bit disappointed. She could've told Leon he owed her another favor.

She bit her lip before reaching for her radio and tracing through each signal. She estimated the closest one to her was Leon, and she guessed right.

"Leon, change your mind yet?"

"Ada?" He was surprised.

"Assuming you haven't, I got a tip for you," Ada glanced back into the castle. More robed figures began marching through doors, their speed picking up with every second. "Seems like something big is about to go down in the throne room. I also found your little friend. They're heading in that direction. Babysitting's tough, huh?"

She hung up her signal right after.

–

Ada didn't bother backtracking again. It would've torn a chunk of her time away.

She hated that something inside her wanted to.

She had radioed to him again later on, giving what she knew he'd want. He wasn't as rough as he was to her previously, perhaps because you were now there to calm his storm, or maybe he just decided to be less harsh. She didn't know, and she wanted to force herself not to care.

He wasn't her's anymore.

–

"Looking for these?" Ada dangled the keys to the boat you two occupied. Leon had been attempting to scavenge them but couldn't manage to. It was her boat, these keys were hers. She could've easily allowed you two to be deserted and not find the girl again. However, she was feeling rather generous.

She tossed them to Leon, and you eyed her form. Your brows furrowed as if you were attempting to recall if you've met her. You two haven't, technically. She knew who you were by bits and pieces, and that's all she needed. "I could use a ride myself."

You and Leon exchanged glances, but she knew ultimately that they wouldn't be given a choice. Leon knew, too. "Fine." He said.

You sat in the back, Leon very cautiously sat in the passenger’s seat because Ada offered to drive. Leon tried to be subtle about it, but Ada noticed. He glanced at you for a second before putting his eyes back to the ocean in front of him.

He was holding back words, and she knew it. "You look like you've got something to say." Ada claimed. He didn't just look it. It radiated off of his skin, and he spoke it with his eyes. He was questioning himself about why she was here, and it kept floating around inside that mind of his.

Though, she would admit she was being unfair, asking this in front of you.

Leon just said, "Nothing." And Ada clicked her tongue.

"Hm."

"Why are you here, Ada?" He blurted. It was too late to catch himself.

"As I told you, Leon, I don't work and tell."

Ada peered at you, giving a side eyed glance. You weren't asking her questions, nor were you giving her any type of expression. Your body language wasn't indicating you felt anything but indifference. You were keeping to your own business. (You glanced at Leon a few times, keeping tabs, watching his reactions. You knew him, too, it seemed.)

How polite.

Or perhaps you felt vexed and wanted to slit her throat right then and there. Either way, you were good at hiding it. (She noticed your pupils, the whites of your eyes. You were also infected, and she wondered if Leon knew, too.)

"I'm stopping here," Ada said shortly. There was a ridge up ahead on a rock she could grapple from. Krauser now had the sample, and he was making her job so much harder than it needed to be.

She stopped the boat just enough so she could stand. Ada pulled herself up. She looked back at him and winked. "Don't think too hard, handsome. See you later." The momentum of her pushing her body weight off the boat caused it to rock the both of you back and forth, Leon fought to steady it.

From the ledge, Ada could barely make out your voices.

"Old flame?" You questioned.

"Something like that," Leon grumbled in response. "It's not relevant."

"Alright, you just seemed so bothered by her."

"She's…" He paused. "Something else."

Ada expected a different phrase from him but was pleasantly surprised.

"She seems interesting."

"I don't want to think about her. Let's just focus on Ashley."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Leon's voice was softer now. "Yeah, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."

"What if I want to?"

Ada removed herself from the area and continued forward, not wanting to listen to anymore of your conversation.

–

Her carrier pigeon was no longer alive, creating a bigger problem. Luis had told Ada the amber was on the island, and Saddler had kept a tight leash on it. That wasn't a surprise, really. It contained the very being he and his cult worshiped. And, to make her workload harder, Krauser contained a sample of the plaga that Wesker would find fascinating. What he would do with it, she had no idea.

"Where on the island, Luis?" She inquired, flexing her fingers as she observed her nails.

"I'll take you there, just…" He paused to scratch his stubble. "Just let me finish some business first."

"May I remind you, you're under thin ice? Better to cooperate, baby."

"Alright, it's…it's in the very middle of the island. It'll be surrounded by Ganados and other not so friendly things."

She never ran into the not so friendly beings, but she did encounter many Ganados that were too trigger happy. The island itself was mostly constructed to be a weapon base–it was so obviously guarding something. With barbed wire traps and metal buildings and caves full of laboratories.

She found the amber eventually in a secluded area. It was grossly beautiful, leaving an orange glow on the floor that was reflected off of a light in the room. The smaller parasites inside reminded her of Umbrella's lab specimens. Removing this larger rock would be an issue; there would need to be a strong distraction, one that would hold their attention long enough for her to give her helicopter friend a signal to load it on.

Leon.

He would have to be her distraction.

And he was.

–

The girl lay upon a sacrificial table, black veins crawling up her arms. Leon's veins popped from his arms, blackened as the girl's. You were in the same boat, groaning in pain on your knees as Saddler began to control the parasite from within.

Ada had two choices. She could allow you and Leon to die here, being suffocated by the plaga in your systems, or she could risk it all.

Ada couldn't do it. She couldn't let him die.

She pulled out her TMP and shot Saddler with what seemed to be the entire round. "Go, Leon!" She shouted to him. "Before it's too late!"

He fell forward, catching his breath. He grabbed your shoulder and then went for Ashley, picking her up bridal style. The two of you began to push yourselves forward, but she couldn't watch now. "That's six times now, Leon." She mumbled.

Saddler managed to squeeze out every last bullet Ada had thrown at him. She had two more guns, but it wouldn't be enough. All she could do was buy more time for you guys. Maybe that's all you needed.

It wasn't long before she only had her pistol left. Saddler used one of his appendages to grab her by the leg and slammed her down on the ground. Her ears rang so loud she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat. Her mouth tasted of iron. She might've bitten her tongue without realizing it. One more smack to the head, and her world went black.

What woke her up was the hard smack of landing on the ground. Her vision was a bit blurry, but she could make Leon's figure. He was holding his pistol. You were nowhere to be found.

Ada quickly got on her feet, approaching him as Saddler appeared from behind, transforming into a hideous creature, further reminding Ada of the experiments she witnessed in the Umbrella underground lab. It had been six years, but those images would never be removed. They were stuck to her mind like glue.

Just like back then, he was her partner once more, but Ada had a feeling this would be the final time.

–

Saddler was defeated with a blow from a rocket launcher. Ada took a deep breath, rubbing her arms as they screamed at her with ache. It was over. Now, she just had to get on the damn helicopter. She gave her men the signal to grab the amber during the fight, while Leon kept him occupied, dancing to his tune. She felt a little more bad this time; she'd used him again.

The sample of the plaga rolled out of Saddler's staff and onto the ground next to Leon. Ada grabbed it before Leon could blink.

"Ada? What the hell?"

She glanced at the bottle of purple liquid with curiosity. "Nothing personal, Leon. Just business." Ada pulled a device out of her pocket and pressed a button that said,"Detonate. " She had to get rid of the evidence, after all. "Though, I definitely recommend you leave. Now."

Leon got the hint, and he sprung to his feet, his eyes wide. Ashley. You. Ada knew immediately to whom his mind went.

Her ride appeared a millisecond later, and she strided toward it, no regrets in her gait. She turned to him. "You coming?" Part of her knew his answer already, but the other part wanted him to ditch everything and just come. Come with her, talk to her. Maybe they could fix things.

"You and I both know this is where we go back to what we were, Ada," Leon said, looking her directly in the eye. "It's time to go separate ways."

"Unsurprising," she clicked her tongue, finally meeting where the helicopter leveled for her to board. She jumped, landing gracefully. "Catch," she shouted, throwing another pair of keys at him. "It's your ride home."

Leon glanced to his palm and shook his head. His lips mouthed something, but the helicopter blades were too loud for her to hear. She watched his now tiny form sprint in the opposite direction, probably now headed your way.

"You got it?" Ada demanded, placing a headset atop her ears. Helicopters were always so loud that she could never hear herself think.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Put me in," she followed. Wesker needed to know his precious Amber was secured.

A part of her wished she could see Leon one more time. To tell him things she never could.

Beneath her serious look, she always cared for him.

–

(Ingrid had ordered a chopper to find you three once you reached the ground. Ashley had immediately fallen asleep, and her head landed on your shoulder. Leon took note of it, the way you gently lifted her head so she'd be more comfortable, the way you parted her hair as a parent would. He didn't know why it made his heart feel warm.

"Did you have feelings for her?" You asked suddenly. Leon blinked. For a slight moment, he thought you meant Ashley, and he was about to be very confused. But no, you meant Ada.

"Yeah," Leon answered after a few seconds. "She made me feel like we had something back in Raccoon City. Then, well, you know how stories like this usually play out."

"She betrayed you?"

"A summary, but yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

You wrinkled your nose. "I didn't want to pry."

"You weren’t, I mean, she was being unfair, asking me things in front of you." Leon shrugged. "Anyone would be curious."

It was silent now. You had thoughts racing in your mind, and Leon could tell from the way your forehead wrinkled.

"I don't think about her much anymore." Leon said. "I have more important people to think about now." He was looking at you when he said that. You blinked a little before giving him an embarrassed smile.

"Alright, Mr. Kennedy, no flirting on the job."

"Mission's over, isn't it?")

–

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