#I'M NEW TO WRITING ADA

[sapphire-weapon]

Chapter 10: Weskada (Wesker/Ada): Seduction and face-fucking

[kyouka-supremacy]

So no sskk?

[allmoshnobrain]

are you gonna make me cry with Heartbreaker 25?

🩷🖤

Oh no, anon! 25 is not gonna be too sad I promise

Parts 26 and 27 on the other hand are... Complicated

[acewritesfics]

A Wedding After All  | Tommy Shelby 

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Pregnant!Reader 

Request: No.  

Warnings: Alludes to cheating [I do not condone cheating]. Pregnancy. Past childhood sweethearts. Brief mention of war. One f*ck.

Word Count: 2,103

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Is Tommy in his office, Polly?" Y/N asks as she approaches the woman who has always treated her like a daughter. Her cheeks are flushed after walking as fast as she could to the Shelby Company's headquarters. She's come straight from the doctor's office. 

Polly cast a worried glance towards the younger woman. "You alright, Love?" 

"I need to talk to Tommy," she says, her gaze darting towards Tommy's office. "It's important that I speak with him." 

"He ought to return at any moment. I'm sure you can tell me whatever you need to tell him," Polly remarks as she sees Y/N beginning to pace back and forth in front of her. 

"Sorry, but I can't. I won't say anything until I've spoken with Tommy." Y/N is unable to calm herself as nauseous feeling settles in her stomach. 

The Shelby family's Matriarch felt unsure how to handle the current situation she finds herself in. If something bothered her, Y/N would always tell her. She never went to Tommy first with anything since their relationship ended years ago.  

Polly knew the woman Y/N's father married a month after his wife died, and it came as no surprise how viciously she treated the teenage girl, from spreading rumours to physically beating her, while her good for nothing father did nothing to stop his new wife. 

Polly immediately scoured the entire town of Small Heath for Y/N and welcomed her into her home once she learned that she was kicked to the streets when she was fifteen. 

It wasn't long before Polly introduced her to her brother's family. When she met the Shelby siblings, they forged an immediate bond. Ada, the only girl, took to her the most, relieved to have another girl to talk to. The two women are still as thick as thieves to this day. They have a sisterly relationship that not even Tommy could disrupt. 

From the moment they met there was an obvious immediate attraction between Y/N and Tommy.  It didn't take long for their friendship to grow into a romantic love. Their romance was a whirlwind of passion, excitement and love. The two of them only had eyes for each other. Everyone knew she was Tommy's girl, and no one dared to touch her. Even though Tommy had little in common with his father, the Shelby name came with a not-so-great reputation.  

Tommy and Y/N weren't hesitant to call each other out on their foolishness, their confrontations occasionally attracting unwelcome attention. But they never went to bed angry with each other, which sometimes resulted in restless nights spent talking and making up. He had been her first love. 

However, their romance eventually ended when Y/N travelled to London shortly after turning 21 to pursue becoming a nurse. Tommy wanted to promise that he'd wait for her to return to Birmingham because he knew she was the one who he was supposed to marry and spend the rest of his life with. She urged him not to make any promises to her, fearing that their parting would only cause more heartbreak. But Tommy never gave up on her, writing almost every day to persuade her that everything would work out between them. They both held hope that it would until the letters eventually became less frequent as they both became busy with their lives.   

The war broke out two years into her training, and she and many other nurses were deployed to France to care for their countries' wounded. There, she was reunited with her former love. In the midst of tending to the soldier's wounds, their love for one another was rekindled. 

But as the days passed, Tommy's once beautiful vibrant blue eyes turned dull, emotionless, and void as they witnessed people die in the most horrific ways. When the war was over and they were sent home, they went their separate ways once more. 

It wasn't until six months ago that Y/N returned Birmingham. She'd been assigned to work in Small Heath's hospital. She preferred working at this hospital to the one she previously worked at in London. It moved at a slightly slower pace which she enjoyed.  

She reconnected with Polly and the brothers once she had settled back in and called Ada at least three times a week to keep her updated now that she was living in London with her son. Despite Ada's displeasure at Y/N wanting to return to Birmingham, the younger of the two women supported her decision knowing that their hometown was where Y/N belonged. 

Y/N had missed Polly and the brothers and was overjoyed to have them back in her life, as well as to be back in theirs. 

She enjoyed being back in Small Heath, even if her heart was crushed by her own past decisions. She assumed she was over Tommy, that all they'd ever be is friends, and that all her old sentiments for him had vanished. Tommy was her first and only love, so learning that he was now engaged saddened her. Polly attempted to convince her that Tommy never stopped loving her and that this marriage was a waste of time and money once he realises, he's making a mistake.  

But all Y/N saw was the way Tommy's soon-to-be bride looked at him, the way her eyes lit up when he walked into the room, the way he makes her smile. It was the same way she would look at him. The only difference was he never looked at her the same way he looked at Y/N. He never looked at anyone the way he was before the war. Y/N didn't know if Tommy loved his fiancée, but he was marrying her and that was enough for Y/N to know that her and Tommy will never be more than friends again.  

Y/N didn't want to get in the way of their relationship, so she kept her distance from Tommy. Which had been working until one night nine weeks ago. 

Polly pulls out a cigarette, places it between her lips, and lights it while she continues to watch Y/N pacing the room. She takes in the younger woman's form, seeing the small curvature of her belly as her hands rest over her stomach as if protecting it. 

Then it dawns on her.  

Leaving her cigarette in the ashtray, she moves towards Y/N and stops her from pacing a hole into the floor. Y/N seems surprised as Polly reaches out and gropes her breasts, feeling them for a few seconds before letting go. 

"You're with child," she exclaims, not bothering to hide the smile on her face. She is not a fool. This baby can only belong to one man, and it would be the push the former lovers need to come back together. Tommy, after all, would never abandon the woman who is carrying his child, especially when it's the woman he's been hopelessly in love with since he was sixteen 

"Fuck me," Y/N murmurs more to herself since she should have known Polly would notice. Nothing can ever get past the Romani woman. "Please don't say anything until I've spoken with Tommy." 

"My lips are sealed," she assures as she places her hand to Y/N's belly.  "Is she Tommy's then?" 

"She?" Y/N raises an eyebrow in response. She wasn't going to bother responding to Polly question since she already knew the answer. 

"Did you forget who you are talking to?" Polly beams, eliciting a smile from Y/N, who appears to be more at ease. "She'll be beautiful, Y/N, and you'll love her more than you've ever loved anyone, even Thomas. There is no deeper love than that between a mother and her daughter." 

They both have a saddened expression on their faces as they recall who they've lost. Y/N lost her mother, and Polly lost her daughter, but they found what they were looking for in each other. Polly always believed that her daughter and Y/N's mother brought them together knowing that they needed one other. 

"You understand that she'll call you nan, right?"  Y/N says, making Polly smile this time. 

"Of course she is," Polly says, hugging her adopted daughter. She lets go of her, looking over her shoulder as someone walks into the office. 

Y/N becomes tense once more. She doesn't have to turn around to find out who it is since she can always feel Tommy's presence before she sees him. She turns around with a timid smile, the nauseous feeling in her stomach intensifying as she swallows the lump in her throat. 

"Y/N," he says a little taken aback to see her. 

"Good afternoon, Thomas," she says formally, trying not to seem too anxious. Since the night they spent together nine weeks ago, the two have barely spoken. Polly simply stands between them, smiling. "Do you have a moment? I need to speak with you." 

"I do," he replies and leads her into his office hearing the urgency in her voice. 

He glances worriedly at Y/N after closing the door. "Is everything okay?" 

"I saw the doctor this morning."  

As he gets closer to her, he grows increasingly worried. "Are you ill?" 

"What I have does cause sickness." She claims unable to look at him. The amount of thinking she did on her walk to the office did not help her at all. 

"What do you have?" He tilts her head so she can look at him. He notices tears welling up in her eyes. 

She takes a deep breath in and out, gathering all her courage to tell him as h er tears begin to fall. "I'm pregnant, Tommy." 

The Peaky Blinder remains calm as thoughts start running through his head. His eyes never leave hers. Y/N searches his eyes trying to find a hint of what he could be feeling or thinking. 

"You are the only one I've been with, Tommy. The baby is yours and I know you are to be married so if you want, I will leave. I'll go back to London and raise her by myself. I just thought since you're the father, you have the right to know and decide what you want to do," She rambles. Removing Tommy's hands off her face, she steps back from him, her arms going around her stomach, bracing herself for his rejection.  

"Or," Tommy finally speaks. "Or, you can stay here, I can marry you and we can finally be a family." 

"Tommy, you're engaged to someone else," She looks at him as though he's delusional, not believing what she's hearing. 

"Not a single day goes by where I don't think about you and what it would be like if we stayed together," he admits. "Because of that, I ended my engagement. I can't marry someone else when the only woman I'll ever love is standing right there in front of me." 

"Tommy, I-"  

"We are going to get married, we are going to have this baby and we are going to be a family," he steps towards her cupping her face again. This thumbs brush away her fallen tears. "I have never stopped loving you," he whispers before kissing her. 

"I love you too, Tommy," she replies when the kiss is broken and Tommy pulls away from her. She watches him go over to his desk, pull something out of the draw and walk back over to her. In his hand is a red velvet ring box. He opens it revealing the gold ring with three red ruby stones surrounded by diamonds. She gasps recognizing his mother's engagement ring. "Your mother's ring." 

"I've been saving it for you," he tells her. "You're the only one I want to wear it. Will you do me the honour in becoming my wife?" 

She nods her head, as the tears start to fall harder. Tommy smiles a rare smile, one that was only reserved for her, and slides the ring onto her finger before he kisses her deeply wrapping his arms around her waist as her arms go around his shoulders. 

"Well it's about bloody time," Arthur's gruff voice comes from the doorway causing the reunited couple to part. 

Y/N's cheeks flush red. Tommy can't contain the smile on his face. "Brother, there's going to be a wedding after all." 

"Who's getting married?" John asks missing what Arthur just walked in on. The younger of the three takes in the scene before him, seeing Y/N and Tommy wrapped up in each other. "You two are getting married?" he then asks, looking confused. 

"We're getting more than that," Tommy smiles lovingly at the woman who stole his heart when they were sixteen. 

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

I would like to thank RTD for making so many people look back at Thirteen's Era and start to go "you know what? Maybe we judged the writing too harshly on this one." Maybe it is a good idea to bring in new writers and more women and people of color behind the scenes and allow them to write and direct things like Demons of the Punjab (top 5 ever Doctor Who episode) and the Haunting of Villa Diodati and Fugitive of the Judoon. Maybe Thirteen WAS camp, because the universe who decided to be a frog and the mud that did witchcraft and the Pting and the plastic that ate birds were unhinged and fun. Maybe we got some GORGEOUS cinematography out of it. Maybe Thirteen's take on gender is more interesting than the 60th anniversary specials. Maybe Yaz DID get an arc in the Flux/standalone specials and people just didn't pay attention. Maybe the Power of the Doctor paid more respect to former eras of Doctor Who than any of the 60th anniversary specials did. Maybe Chibnall acted with far more grace to the RTD Era (Jack) than RTD did to Chibnall (treatment of Yaz and Thirteen). Maybe it was actually cool to see less well-known or underexplored historical figures like Mary Seacole and Ada Lovelace and Nikola Tesla and Noor Inayat Khan end up onscreen. Maybe Thasmin wasn't queerbait, it was an interesting exploration of the doctor/companion romance IN KEEPING with Thirteen's established character with one of its keystone episodes written by a queer woman.

Yes, Chibnall was flawed. I'm never gonna pretend that the Battle of Ranskoor Av Kalos wasn't a piss poor finale that felt like a first draft of themes and idea. I'm not gonna pretend like the multiple companions in the TARDIS ever felt properly balanced or explored. Yes, the moment with the Master and the Nazis was FUCKED UP. The Timeless Child might have deserved more than one episode for the ImplicationsTM to be fleshed out. But EVERY Doctor Who Era has its flaws, ESPECIALLY when it comes to racism, and I'm TIRED pretending as if Chibnall's writing is significantly worse than the other two showrunners.

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[hellaarknight]

I need to read a fic where the Akutagawa siblings are like the adopted kids of Chuuya and the reader. Hear me out on this. Chuuya is dating reader who is not part of the Mafia nor the Ada, but is good in close combat because is trained in self-defense and other techniques. Just because the reader fancy it. After a period of dating, reader gets to meet part of Chuuya's coworkers, such as Kouyo, Gin, Aku, Hirotsu etc. And becomes extremely fond of Gin and Akutagawa. First because she sees herself in Aku and his desperate attempts to gain his mentor approval and it makes her heart ache since she thinks that Chuuya is nevertheless a better mentor for Aku than Dazai. So she starts to organize dinners at Chuuyas and invite said coworkers, but more often just Aku and Gin.

Akutagawa is obviously not very fond of the outings at first, and not very fond of Chuuya's girlfriend. But even if he finds her annoying, he can't harm his superior's girlfriend. Then, he becomes somewhat accustomed to going to their place for dinner and it makes him at ease to see Gin having a new somehow friend. And maybe the hugs he receives aren't that bad after all. Even if he feels weird af at the beginning not being used to physical affection. And when she compliments his fighting skills and praises the good work him and Chuuya do during missions, it is not totally awful. I mean, it is not Dazai, it comes from a weak woman... But that weak woman makes the great executive Chuuya Nakahara fear for his life when he does something stupid, so she's not totally weak... And slowly he has a full war inside, of contradictory thoughts regarding her. And slowly he starts to respect her. And maybe even appreciate her. Sooner than later he doesn't even realize when he goes full rage on someone who dares to insult Chuuya's girlfriend.

BSD writers. I'm begging you on my knees, please someone write a fanfic with this idea. I'm begging you, I need to see the reader being a big sister for Aku and take care of him. If someone writes this or knows any similar fic, please tag me. I beg you.

[roseglazedlens]

Okay let's forget about all the agents Kennedy, alcohol and trauma in RC, Ada...ect,and turn to Leon s Kennedy as Your husband's policeman 36years is receiving a promotion to Chief Police Officer cuz I can't see my bbguy suffer more :(,you can add some nsfw if you want to

thank you for requesting lovely! i'm sorry i write so much angst hahhaha, but here is a change of pace! i've never written anything purely fluff (lol) and so many characters, so this is a challenge! i hope you enjoy!

⦑ take me home ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: you throw a surprise party for your boyfriend's last day at work after his job promotion. content: pure fluff, established relationship, flirting, alcohol, leon is tipsy, but he's cute & not depressed ab it. claire, rebecca, jill & chris works in RPD. « 1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Today is an unusual sight for the usually hectic police department in Raccoon City. The office is adorned with balloons, garlands, and laughter, celebrating not just the promotion of a well-loved officer, Leon S. Kennedy, but also his farewell as he relocates to a new precinct.

You should be happy for your boyfriend – and you are – but part of you will miss watching over his figure from your desk, casting flirtatious grins back and forth in attempts to distract each other from the rigorous paperwork.

A banner suspends between the light fixtures, observing the lopsided words ‘CONGRATULATIONS’, strings twisted into the knot. The culprit of this handiwork, Chris, puffs out his chest proudly, while Rebecca looks at him in disbelief.

“Chris, leave the decorations to Rebecca, please.” You break apart the squabble forming between them. Rebecca smirks as Chris descends the ladder, defeated. “Don’t forget everyone, this is supposed to be a surprise.”

“Claire, where is the card?” You interrogate the next person in your line of sight, who happens to be Claire. All whilst you signal Rebecca to tilt the banner slightly upwards. “Has everyone signed?”

“Yep. It’s just you left.” She hands over the card, before resuming to the case files on her computer.

The card scrawls with heartfelt blessings from your team, a lot of ‘good lucks’, ‘we’ll miss you’, and nostalgia when he was just a rookie. He worked hard for ten years to be a sergeant, and you know he deserves this.

You pick up your pen – contemplating the words to express how amazing he is, how you will love him forever, how you will miss the sneaky make-out sessions in the work janitor’s closet.

…Marvin will be so proud of you. Yours, ....

The vibration in your pocket cuts you off mid-sentence – Jill. She is supposed to be on the case with Leon for another thirty minutes. You read the text out loud.

“I can't hold him back much longer, we're on our way. ETA in five minutes!!”

The floor scrambles in panic to finalise their positions. Rebecca quickly secures the banner with some tape. Claire is passing party poppers. Chris is putting away the ladder to the storeroom.

As Jill enters the space with Leon following behind, all the confetti releases at once.

The rainbow plastic ribbons catching in his hair like stardust in sand. You catch a glimpse of surprise in his reaction, following with a light on the corner of his lips.

“To Leon!” your team lifts their glasses high in the air, sipping beers and cocktails all night. Leon is the star tonight – you can barely talk to him without two other people buying him drinks all night along.

You catch him a whole two hours later in the circle booth, after some of the crowd has dispersed, his cheeks redden from the many drinks consumed all in a few hours. You squeeze yourself through three different people to sit yourself next to Leon.

“Having fun?” You try to get his attention by nudging at his forearm. “Don’t get too drunk though, I have to take you home.”

Leon lifts his gaze, when he sees you right by him, a grin tug at his face almost immediately. His cerulean eyes somehow more glazy than usual.

“Thank you for doing all of this. You are so good for me.” Despite the scent of beer merging with his breath, the grin on his face remains childlike. One that you only see in his drunkenness, which he lets down his guard to show more of his emotional side.

“Everyone helped. Not just me.” You are thinking how cute Leon looks when he’s drunk. “You are well-loved in here. I’m just the facilitator.”

“How about you work for me?” Leon brings the back of your palm to his lips. “I can pull some strings, now that I’m sergeant.”

“Sergeant Kennedy, using your influence for personal goals? It’s not even your first day.” You quip with a slight chuckle.

“And what if I am?” He peppers kisses from your palm to your fingers, the faint heat from his lips sizzle through your nerves. “Sure you’ll enjoy less time on the field, and more time in my office.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” You decide to let this banter go on a little further. “I expect to be well-compensated for my extra duties.”

“That will depend on your performance.” He raises a sassy eyebrow, pulling you closer until your noses touch.

“Good thing I always hit my KPI’s.”

“I do like a hardworking employee…”

Eyes fluttering shut slowly, you smile into the kiss. His lips lay gently on yours, sucking slightly at your cupid’s bow. Your bodies move closer, so close that you rests your hand on Leon’s thigh for support. The kiss deepens further, sloppier, tongues intertwined until…

“Ahem.” Chris clears his throat loudly, snapping you back to the present.

You open your eyes to find the whole table staring at the two of you. Your gaze finds its way to Jill, which she immediately, most awkwardly, rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if there is something to see there. Claire is nonchalant, sipping her beer and simply enjoying the scene.

You retract the tongue that is still shoved in Leon’s mouth. A hint of pink is running up your cheeks, you don’t need to see it to feel it. Leon, however, is unphased by the attention from his coworkers. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s knowing that he won’t be seeing these guys next Monday.

“So… next rounds on me. Who’s in?” Chris attempts to diffuse the awkwardness, which earns a few curt nods from the table.

Leon holds you by the hand, picking you up from the seat. “Sorry Chris, we’re gonna call it. It’s been a long night. Thanks for the party, everyone.”

You two shuffle past Chris and Jill out of the booth, after a round of hugs with everyone, you can practically feel Leon sprinting out the bar.

“How ‘bout we continue where we left off at my place?”

Your cheeks turn a deeper red. It seems like he will be the one to take you home tonight instead.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[chuuyasfanboy]

Heya^^ feel free to ignore this request but I'm dying to see more of beast Dazai that isn't angst so I'd like to request some headcanons about beast Dazai finding out that in every other universe where he lives he has the same s/o, aka reader, I just wanna hear out how he is gonna react to such news.

Anyways, love your writing! Hope you have a wonderful day or night and don't forget to hydrate! (I'm so sorry if my expectations are weirdly worded)

I have 3 matchups and another request to do but OH MY GOD BEAST GUYS FINALLY I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR MY MOMENT I LOVE BEAST

Also you're so right, we do need more non-angsty Beast. As much as I eat the FUCK up of sad Dazai, I love happy Dazai too, lets give him attention!!!!! Let's also totally ignore the gif I chose is seconds after he just stabbed himself- he's smiling, it's fine guys, he's fine

Beast!Dazai x Reader

Dazai has gone through many worlds, all in the sake of keeping one man alive

Though, he'd be lying to himself if he said there weren't consistencies

It was strange, no matter how different the circumstances were, some things stay the same regardless

His bandages, for one

Whether he took them off later, wore them differently, or drowned himself alive in them, they always remained in some capacity

In the original, he wore them more as a child, but took off a majority of them as he grew and changed

In another, he developed completely, and removed them altogether as a show of improvement

And in the current one, they remained on the opposite side of his body, proving that things must be different, even just a bit

But those weren't the only consistencies either

Chuuya was also there, always

Whether an enemy or righthand man

Once he took the other with him to the ADA

In another world he died

And in another they never met, only watched from a distance

And then, of course, there was you

Only, yours was far different from the many other similarities he'd documented

While his focus was always on Oda, he couldn't deny an attachment he'd formed

You were always by his side. Never an enemy, never leaving, never changing

You were just you

It was almost strange, how you always seemed to trust him no matter who he was, no matter how he acted

But it made him feel truly wanted, it made him almost reconsider certain measures he decided to take for the sake of his goals

Almost

Humming a soft melody into his ear as you worked the stressed knots out of his hair

You brought a light to his life that only Oda could compare to, something intangible, something he hoped he wouldn't lose

And he hoped all his visions of his other lives proved that he couldn't

Because, as stated, you were always with him

You were always there to calm his nerves, to give him sweet kisses and a loving embrace

Once, in another life, he'd stressed himself to much that he got a terrible nosebleed and passed out for hours

And when he awoke, you were the only face he was greeted with

Not a nurse, not Chuuya, not even Oda

You

Perhaps he could consider you a second goal

It would be a nice side effect to keep you alive as well

He tried the same approach he did with Oda in this world, avoided meting you altogether

Maybe if you never interacted, you'd be saved from the whims of fate

He'd almost been convinced you were aware of the realities as well

Because somehow, you still found your way into his arms

And he into yours

[delphi-shield]

Close in the Distance // Poly Drabbles

multichara x gn!reader wc: ~1650 characters included: jill, leon, chris, claire, rebecca, carlos, ada pairings highlighted: jill & leon, jill/claire, jill/chris, jill/carlos, chris/leon, chris/rebecca, leon/ada, leon/claire ada refers to the reader as gorgeous but i consider that a pretty gender neutral expression, ymmv. i'm kind of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks with this, but i hope you enjoy it! i know i had fun writing it. i'm gonna go see fnaf and play splatoon until my eyes bleed lmao

Ada & Leon

Ada runs just as easily as she pulls you down to her bed. Leon leaves you with much more reluctance, but he leaves all the same. The note he leaves pinned to the fridge with a fish-shaped magnet from your last vacation (Roatán, blissfully uninterrupted by Leon’s work. Ada’s shadow darkened your doorstep two days before your flight home. She arrived in the night; you think you dreamt her arrival, her muted argument with Leon, but when you wake it’s with her arm draped across your waist. "Stay put, gorgeous," she tells you, her voice a sleep-addled rasp at your ear, "Leon's getting breakfast.") dripping with remorse and guilt.

On a rare reunion, you slip away to give them time to themselves and Ada reels you back in with an arm around your waist, tucking you securely between the two of them. They race for the same cheesy joke just to hear you laugh and exchange warm glances over your shoulder. You pray one day you will wake and they will both be there. You pray that one day you stop collecting the pieces they leave behind to remember them by.

Claire & Leon

Claire and Leon are in and out of each other's lives so often that you could tell time by it. Thanksgiving together and Christmas apart, a New Year's reunion obfuscated by the fizzle of fireworks overhead. Claire holds your hand in the crowd, Leon’s hand at the small of her back to guide the both of you. She leans close to be heard over the cheering of the crowd, promising to kiss you first at midnight. Leon doesn’t seem to hear, but he spins you away from her when the clock hits midnight, stealing the first kiss of the year, smiling against your lips as Claire whines and smacks his arm.

Days later, Leon tells you, "we're both in the doghouse now," when you come home to an argument and refuse to pick a side. Centrism is the biggest crime of them all to Claire, and Leon’s apologies are in short supply. You fall asleep with him on the couch, and when you wake with a pillow under your head and Claire’s humming drifting from the kitchen, you know that you are absolved.

Chris & Leon

Chris and Leon thought this arrangement was fine until their own unresolved feelings bubbled to the surface, their entire friendship recontextualized in the span of seconds over cheap beer. You lean against Chris’ shoulder, watching the gears in Leon’s head turning. A realization years in the making happens in the span of minutes for you, and it takes only a little bit of careful probing to understand that it’s mutual. 

They both drag their feet, men who know how easy it is to wreck something as fragile as this, neither willing for their hands to be the ones that break this time. To be direct is to be dismissed. Chris brushes off assurances that you don’t mind and Leon has told you in no uncertain terms to drop it. You feign tiredness one night and slip away, leave them to themselves, and like clockwork, they ask to speak with you about something the following week. Smug is an understatement. Your playful ribbing is worth putting up with if it means the three of you can move forward together - even if it means the porch swing is a little more cramped from now on.

"Don't let that one go," Chris teases, his eyes squinting in a smile.

"I don't think I can," Leon says. He means it to be a joke about the way you cling to his arm, but his voice too soft, too enamored for the intended effect, his eyes too warm.

Jill & Leon

Jill and Leon see too much of themselves in each other to ever understand the appeal, but god, do they love you. For a long time they operated on separate schedules. You had called it a custody arrangement once, a joke that you came to regret with every fiber of your being because the both of them had latched onto it and neither of them know how to let a joke die with dignity. The first sign of change is a text from Jill, sent at three in the morning (a difference in timezones she didn’t bother to calculate, you’re sure). An offer, their stupid custody joke to break the ice -  I know it’s your weekend, but that movie they want to see is coming out Saturday and I’ll be stateside. Do you mind if we go? You can come too.

It hadn’t been a good movie, some forgettable action movie you had laughed about all the way home, but ever since that night they had been more open to nights together. That’s how you wound up with your legs over Leon’s lap, your head against Jill’s thigh, Leon’s thumb tracing a lazy pattern against your ankle and Jill’s fingers carding gently through your hair. Their hands meet in the bowl of popcorn and Jill relents. Leon insists, no, after you, his tone as dramatic as the sweep of his hand. You can envision the way Jill rolls her eyes without picking your head up, and before they can devolve into a familiar back and forth, you chime in sleepily. "What, are you guys five? If you were going to get cooties, you’d get it from me."

Jill & Chris

“Wrong side,” Jill reminds you, indicating to her own ear. She doesn’t even need to look up from her breakfast. You click your tongue and move to Chris’ left instead, repeating your question louder, clearer. They move so fluidly around each other, nearly two decades of trust informing every word, every look, every action. At times it feels like they inhabit the same body. It's all you can do to try and fall in step with them. They make space, slow their pace, guide you where they have to. Chris is ever the worrier, but it’s Jill who watches you like a hawk when the three of you are out, who grips your wrist loosely and nudges you up with them, never letting you fall behind. Unhurried time together is short on supply, but you cherish every moment of quiet, every laugh, every old story they have to explain to you, you cherish the hurt and the pain, the grief that they try to borrow from each other, all the things they would rather forget yet choose to trust you with.

Jill & Claire

Jill is an expert in handling Redfields, but she can take them apart just as easily. She says she’ll teach you one day. A well-placed ‘got it out of your system’ during an argument starts Claire’s rant all over again. A hand at the nape of her neck, curling her into Jill’s side to calm her. Jill’s methods are effective, but they’re hers. You weave your own way between them, fingers interlocking with Claire’s, palm flat against Jill’s, the way each of them prefer. Jill will drink her coffee anyway she gets it, things like preferences and personal taste feeling like an afterthought to her after so long of nothing but survival, but you see the scrunch of her nose when it’s too dark, too bitter. You slip sugars and cream one cup at a time until you find the perfect blend, and it doesn’t take Claire much longer to catch on to your discovery. There was peace before, and there can be peace again.

Jill & Carlos

"Not that one," you tell Jill, swatting her hands away as she tries to pack one of your many stuffed animals up, the small army having taken over most of the bed. "Carlos got me that one." Jill rolls her eyes, muttering that they're all from Carlos. His absence is filled with plush toys, cheap, soft substitutes for his presence - but at least he tries to fill the void. Jill becomes a ghost when she's away for work, insisting her silence is for your benefit. She comes back to you battered, vacant, and she asks you what you've been up to as if she might fill herself with your memories instead.

If it weren’t for Carlos, you would have no idea how she’s really doing. He has her back, he assures you, and you wonder if he’s reminding himself as well, if the distance she forces (for your own good, she repeats, her tone firmer) bothers him as much as it bothers you. Pulling her back to you isn’t always easy, but Carlos is a steady presence at your side. His gifts for Jill are fewer and farther between - Jill told him to cool it, by his own admission - but you notice as she thins out the stuffed animal militia, she leaves the dog plushie he had gotten her right where it is.

Chris & Rebecca

Rebecca drags you through the aisles of a department store, stuffing colorful paper decorations into the cart you push. Chris is coming home - properly coming home, not just a quick stopover between flights. Rebecca wants to surprise him, and you worry he’ll be too tired. You worry his assignment took a turn for the worse, that the last thing he needs is a fuss when he’s barely had time to process the aftermath. Rebecca assures you it’s fine. She insists she wouldn’t be doing this if everything hadn’t gone well. You reach for the pink and blue streamers on the top shelf, dropping them with the mish-mash of other supplies in the cart as she tells you more and more about the assignment. “I think that’s supposed to be classified, Becca,” you remind her. She shushes you, a finger pressed to her lips. You make a detour to pick up a case of beer, making a bet with Rebecca on how long it will take Chris to ask for a cold one. Chris arrives on time for once, no delayed flights, a blissfully short debriefing at base. He drops his duffle bag the second the door is shut, eyes cutting to the fridge. His arm winds around your shoulders, tugging you into a hug. 

“Guess you missed me,” he says, taking in the decorations. Rebecca patters in from the kitchen, spreading her arms wide to gesture at the apartment, transformed briefly into a discount Party City. He’s tired, it’s clear, but he laughs all the same. It only takes five minutes - as you predicted, shooting a successful smirk at Rebecca - for him to ask, “Hey, any beer in the fridge?”

[bsdawgz]

giving a handjob to atsushi...

a/n just a quick drabble hehe cuz i couldnt stop thinkin about writing smthn ab atsushi! this boy is too adorable and doesn’t get enough luv hehe... MDNI! this is smut.

imagine sitting in atsushi’s lap at the ada’s dorm and teasing him with an agonizingly slow handjob under his boxers. it’s the middle of the night and he’s making these really soft whimpers that get caught in his throat. he’s trying so hard not to moan out loud because he really can’t have anyone knowing that he can actually make this kind of lewd noise… especially not with kyouka-chan and tanizaki’s rooms next door. he’s overthinking about the fact that you might see him making some sort of embarrassing expression, so he’s burying his face in the crook of his elbow or in his hands trying to hide it from you. at the same time, he can’t resist but peek through his fingers because he just needs to watch you touching him like this because it turns him on so much. he’s still a guy, after all. when he sees you’re watching him just as closely, he’ll gasp softly and his face will turn bright red, and you’ll feel him throb and twitch in your hands. you’ll have him squirming under your fingers the whole time, just struggling to keep still as that damp spot spreads in his boxers. when he just can’t take it anymore, he’ll be toppling over you on the futon with a breathless, “please, i really need it now,” and begging you to finish him.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @v6que~!

Thank u everyone who has interacted wit me so far omg... I'm grateful!! Plz feel free to say hi sometime! & as always reblogs are so so appreciated cos I'm a new blog :3

[sapphire-weapon]

me: /writing weskada porn ada's inner monologue (paraphrased): the only reason why i keep coming back to wesker is because most men don't fuck me right because they're too busy being intimidated by me because they're all sexist pieces of shit who think that every confident woman is a dominatrix, and wesker is at least an equal opportunity piece of shit me: oh girl i've slept on writing you for way too long

[navstuffs]

two weeks

Pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

Summary: "give me two weeks, you won't recognize her."

Warnings: songfic, SMUT SO MINORS DNI, sort sub!leon, confident reader

Author's Notes: if you know this song, you already know what's coming ;) this fanfic is also an ode to my queen fka twigs (so you can imagine the pressure i felt writing this lol). leon is also very lucky with me; first sade and now fka twigs? he is a lucky motherfucker man. enjoy your reading!

my leon's masterlist

"I know it hurts, you know I'd quench that thirst

(I can treat you better than her)

You say you're lonely, I say you'll think about it"

Like most things in your life, it doesn't start the "right" way. Yes, there is a date, but never a proper second or maybe third date, then a kiss. And at a particular stage of life, you didn't think you could seduce or date anyone. Even more so, your partner and friend Leon S. Kennedy. You had lost your touch or never really had one. And he was clearly in love with somebody else.

You had to hear about it occasionally if you decided to join him to drink. It bothered you more than it should, but you could do nothing about it.

And Leon Kennedy had the tendency to only "flirt" as a joke, anyway. 

The smiles, the flirty smiles in your direction. They started here and there, just a tiny detail you didn't think much of, figuring it was just Leon being Leon. Then, the flirting. As if you could call it flirting, the man straight invited you to dinner after you two almost died in the hands of a B.O.W.

Leon's priceless face, when you accept it, makes everything almost all worth it.

"Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover

Flying like a streamer, thinking of new ways to do each other"

Leon is unsure during dinner. You watch his eyes wander around the restaurant, never looking straight at your face. The menu has confusing names with food you have never heard of. Leon had chosen a fancy place he clearly never went, and also somewhere he wasn't comfortable. 

Later, after eating what you think was a snail with a weird tomato, you question why he brought you here. Leon mumbles he never thought you would accept it.

"Why?"

"I guess because you know...my situation."

"I know it hurts, you know I'd put you first

(I can fuck you better than her)"

Ada Wong? Oh, you knew their situation pretty well. You have heard more than once, actually: she and Leon seem to be connected to each other with a certain tension that never seems to die down over the years. This doesn't frighten you; you never ran away from a challenge. You preferred the harder ones anyway.

You wouldn't be stealing Leon from her since he was never his. And even if he was, it didn't matter.

"It doesn't really matter," You conclude, finishing your drink.

"Why not?"

"Because you could be mine at the end. We can't risk that."

The smile Leon gives you is all the answer you need.

"Feel your body closing, I can rip it open

Suck me up, I'm healing for the shit you're dealing"

You are bad, Leon realizes, really bad. It is the way you make him feel pleasure, the way look at him, fierce and daring, as if he is the only one for you. It makes him feel special, unique, like Ada never could. Not because she didn't want to but.

"Hey, eyes on me, Leon."

Your authoritative voice calls him back, and Leon feels a chill. He had only seen you concentrated like this during missions. Looking deadly and calm, Leon Kennedy is your target now. Leon shouldn't have invited you to his apartment, but he was curious. Curious to see how further you could actually go.

How you would make him yours.

It could be enough, Leon thinks, his hand pushing your head down into his hard cock. He likes to watch you suffocate and how good your lips are around his dick, your mouth wet and slippery, perfect for him.

After falling into bed, exhausted, Leon confesses, his face hidden by his sweaty hair.

"This...could work."

You smirk back. You could work with that.

"Smoke on your skin to get those pretty eyes rolling

My thighs are apart for when you're ready to breathe in"

You don't call Leon the next day. Or the other. He calls you on Monday night after a full day of behaving like nothing happened during the weekend as if you two remained just good co-workers.

He comes by your house, and you imagine he will want to finish everything. It would be typical of Leon to get afraid if someone got too close. Leon would apologize and argue it was all a mistake. His kiss as soon as you open the door silences your internal doubts. Leon Kennedy is there, and he wants you.

You take him to your bedroom, clothes falling on the way, and you ignore the little emotion you have when he looks so vulnerable under your palms. You suck him again because Leon Kennedy asks for it. It seems someone has gotten addicted to your mouth. 

"So good. Fuck."

You let him moan and tremble in your bed. A bed that you often imagined you would, one day, have Leon for yourself, just for you. His moans fill up the room, and you suspect you will never be able to sleep again without thinking about it.

"Suck me up, I'm healing for the shit you're dealing

High motherfucker, get your mouth open, you know you're mine"

You are at his house now, almost two weeks since this started. Leon has you under him, back against the mattress, legs spread apart. You look a mess, and he loves it. His hands rub your chest, giving your nipple a good squeeze, focusing on moving his hips against you. The way you liked. Oh yeah, Leon Kennedy, in less than two freaking weeks, knows precisely where to hit.

"Shit." He groans, his mouth open with his eyes semi-closed.

He looks sinful. If there was ever some God of sex around or a demon, Leon would be one of his forms used to seduce people. And he is trembling, shaking, panting because of you.

"Leon."

You must remind him to bring himself back and stop teasing you. He looks at you, and his blue eyes darken.

"What do you want? What do you need? You gotta tell me."

Oh, Leon, you think smiling. Still naive about whom exactly was in control there. He forgets sometimes you are as trained as he is. Taking him by surprise, you shift positions, sitting on top of him. Leon's dick goes further inside you, making you both groan.

"You forget Leon, I don't have much patience."

You watch as Leon Kennedy simply collapses in front of your eyes. It had been like this every night you had been together, Leon's expression changing to pure bliss. You think it was nice seeing him like this as you gently grab his face.

"Come on, you know what to do by now."

Leon licks his lips, moaning your name. He raises his hips up with ease, starting to meet your thrusts. You smile, victorious. After you both cum, bodies trembling, you can feel Leon examining your face as his warm hand rubs your cheek gently.

"We could do this if you still want me."

It is adorable how unsure he is still with himself, although his dick was buried deep inside you. As if you hadn't been banging your brains like crazy those last two weeks. But it is the first time he has been truly open.

You lick your lips, whispering.

"I know you aren't mine yet, but..."

"I want to be."

You look into his eyes, looking for any trace of insecurity from Leon. There was none, just the heavy stare of his confession. Leon reminded you of a younger version of himself, one you saw in a picture, his big blue eyes anxious and his face watching you. You knew you were in danger territory now: Leon was letting you in. 

"We could do this" Your voice sounds vulnerable and different from earlier. More emotional "It will be slow. We will take our time. No rush."

"Yes."

Leon Kennedy opens a smile that has you hide your face on his neck. You want more, much more, but for now, this is enough.

[allmoshnobrain]

should I post a new heartbreaker chapter today

[issdisgrace]

Shit I'm sorry I didn't notice the request info-

Okay, can I please request Thomas Shelby x Tall and buff male reader who's the sweetest thing on earth but has one "flaw".

He's too damn handsy. Place, time, people, pffff, suit, shirt, naked, he doesn't care.

He just really loves Thomas man tits and his ass.

Not in a teasing way, it just makes him relax.

Just Thomas's reaction and how he's dealing with it. Whatever.

Thank you~ 💕

4 TIMES MR. HANDSY STRUCK

WARNINGS: Accidental groping, purposeful groping, swearing, yeah thats about it.

A/N: I hope you like this. I had a fun time writing this, so please feel free to request again.

Y/n was a tall and buff man. He looked like he could kill anyone without a second thought. But in reality, he was the kindest and sweetest thing to ever walk the earth. He was a gentle giant in all senses of the word. But there was one thing about the man that many would consider a flaw. It was the fact that he was handsy, very handsy when it came to his partner, Thomas Shelby. The man couldn’t keep his hands off Tommy. So here are 4 scenes in which Y/n couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Walking down the streets of Birmingham on the way to The Garrison. It was quiet and peaceful; the sun had actually been out. Unlike most other days in Birmingham. Y/n had his arm wrapped around Tommy’s waist as they walked, casually talking. Tommy hadn’t realized Y/n’s hand slipping closer and closer to his ass until the man squeezed it, causing Tommy to yelp in surprise.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t expecting it, that all.”

Tommy says brushed it off, and the two continued their walk.

The Garrison was loud with hustle and bustle of the man drinking inside. In a corner booth sat the Shelby family and, of course, Y/n. The family talked and drank, Y/n adding in every once in a while not want to interrupt those who were speaking. Y/n threw his arm overs Tommy’s shoulder and continued onto listening to the conversation at hand. Without even realized himself, his hand moved down and now was on Tommy’s chest. It wasn’t until John made a joke about it out that he and Tommy realized.

“Y/n, you done feeling up my brother for the night? It’s a bit distracting.”

Y/n’s face flushed, and he quickly unwrapped his arm around Tommy, covering his face in pure embarrassment.

“Sorry.” He mumbled in his hands as the family had a laugh.

It was sometime after 10pm when Y/n managed to covince Tommy to call it quits for the night and join him in bed. Y/n sat in bed paeintly waiting for Tommy to be done with his night routine and join him. Eventually Tommy join him and they curled up togeather. They talked for a little bit until Tommy relized Y/ns hands found there way to his chest.

"My prince, can you explain to me how your hands always seem to find my chest."

"I'm sorry. I didnt mean to."

"Shh. It is ok my prince. Im just curious."

"I dont know. I guess touching them grounds me. It makes sure i know that everyting going on is real. But i guess it also calms me. I'm sorry if i make you uncomfortable. I can stop."

"Its fine my prince. I dont mind."

Tommy was hosting a party for the Peaky Blinders in order to celebrate some of their new achievements. The rowdy men happily drank the beer that was in the house and chatted. Tommy leaned against the bar, talking to Polly when Y/n came up behind him, grabbing his ass gently with both hands. Then resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy turned his head slightly to look at you.

“Do you need anything, my prince?”

“No, just a little bored.”

“Ok.” Tommy said, then returning to talk to Polly.

The Shelbys, minus Tommy, who was nowhere to be seen, were sitting around having a drink at The Garrison

“Is it me or is Y/n really handsy with Tommy? I feel like half the time I see him with him, he’s either grabbing Tommy’s butt or his chest. It’s fucking weird.” Arthur slurs slightly, the alcohol getting to him a bit.

“Oh no, he is. You're definitely not imaging it, Arthur.” Ada says.

“Sometimes I think the poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s doing.” Polly adds in.

“Its fucking funny as hell. Have you seen the way some newcomers react when they see it happening? It’s fucking priceless. Their eyes get all wide and shit and they look like they’ve seen the most traumatic thing in the world.” John said.

“I’ve heard some newcomers people ask around, asking if it was a normal thing.” Finn adds.

“I know it’s also grate to see their reactions when they're told it’s a normal occurrence.” John says. After he says that, out of nowhere Tommy appearing

“What are we discussing this fine evening?”

“Nothing.” The other Shelby boys say at the same time like a kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Shades of Gray

Stylists and photographer; both such burdens but nothing can prepare you for the way Leon's arrival tips over your "shades of gray".

a/n: @chesue00 ... YOU LOVELY LITTLE MANIACAL GENUIS. I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH I CANT EVEN DESCRIBE IT HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE 😍😍😍

i was literally walking just walking you know i see that i have a notification from tumblr (if my slowass had checked the name i wouldve braced myself) but the post pops up

when i tell you i nearly hopped skipped and jumped like my friend gave me the weirdest look ever... like i cant tell you how much that art piece means to me its literally so hot im dying ahahhhhahhahhhh and i cant write smut for SHIT so future me revamp this when you learn the true smut writing ways....

tw: non explicit smut but just to be safe mdni!! also can u guess where the titles from.. heh

wc: 3.4k

“They might fire you with that attitude,” Ada muses quietly, humming to herself as she dusts off the camera lens, wiping it with such precision and care, something you couldn’t manage to do yourself.

You glare up at your superior from where you crouch at the legs of the tripod, scowling. “They can’t do that. I’m single handedly carrying this studio. How broke do you have to be to be both the one of the editors and the photographer?”

“Pretty broke,” she agrees with a small shrug.

“And it’s not even like the models are hot or anything,” you continue, exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to shut your mouth before you say something you might regret. “I better get a promotion after this new guy.”

“Who knows?” Ada laughs, a soft, tinkling sound that seems to ease some of your tension. Between your job(s), there hasn’t been much time to relax, but the fact you storm around the studio with set shoulders, lips twisted in a frown never seems to bother her.

You suppose you should be grateful you have such a good friend. You just wish there was something worth her time here, because you sure aren’t.

<><><><>

“Room 3,” you read from the list, craning your neck to read the words scratched into the paper that’s plastered onto the wall. “Is that where she is?”

“He,” Ada corrects. “A guy, again. Isn’t that exciting?”

She means to sound eager, but you can hear how dry her tone is, and you can’t blame her. Most of the guys that show up are only here to have a quick session, earn some cash, try to get with one of the girls working on set, before rushing away, never to be seen again.

You place a tentative hand on her shoulder, rubbing the muscle there. “I’ll deal with it. You get some rest before the shoot, ‘kay?”

Her weary eyes find you, but they light up somewhat at your suggestion. Without another word, she nods and dips her head before walking off to the lounge. Ada’s overworked, you know that. The least you can do for her is this, right?

Ignoring the fact you’ve never actually done this before, you wipe your trembling, sweaty hands on your pants before sliding the door open.

The man sitting in the chair, eyes slicing to you from the mirror, face softening into a smile as you gawk in the doorway, unable to do much more than offer fragments of a sentence.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I thought you were the director.”

“Uhm. No.” You recognize him, a man you’ve only seen in stretched out movie posters that are plastered everywhere on your apartment block, a man only seen in the vivid ink on paper, on the pixels that cross your screen.

Now he’s really sitting here, in front of you, feet carrying you to stand right behind him. What the hell were you thinking? You meet his eyes in the mirror, too abashed to look directly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out in surprise. "You’re an actor! This isn't exactly your scene."

"Is that how you greet a guest?" With an arched brow, he gestures to the cluttered room. "And I could say the same for you. It seems like I'm not the only one who's a little lost."

"You have no idea," you mutter.

"Ah, there it is." Leon leans back, tilting his head to stare up at you, regarding you curiously. "So what’s happening? This your therapy session?"

You glance down and flash a tentative grin. Reaching around him, you quickly wet your hands, then card them through Leon's bronzed hair, working out the tangles and smoothing it into place.

His shoulders tense when your fingertips make contact with the back of his neck, eyes narrowing down at the ground.

"Your hands..." he murmurs unexpectedly. "They're so soft."

You pause, fingers stilling to look down, only to find his eyes closed, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You smile to yourself, feeling a flutter of pride in your work. It had been a long time since you’d done this for a friend, since Ada often recoils at your touch. "Well, you know, this is kinda my thing. Taking care of models, seeing they're relaxed."

“You’re pretty good at it,” he muses.

You feel heat sear your neck and gulp, reaching for some of the confidence that abandons you quickly. "Alright pretty boy, time to get you camera-ready." Spritzing some product, you sculpt his hair into what the director had requested - “tousled but not too tousled, sexy without trying too hard.”

Whatever the hell that meant.

Your hands move fast, eager with a purpose. Under your touch, Leon seems further away, lost in thoughts. When you’re close to finishing, he lifts his head again to meet your gaze.

“I’ll assume you already know my name,” he remarks. “You’ve watched my work?”

“Kinda hard not to.” You don’t mean for it to sound so condescending, but he just squints back up at you as you massage some kind of lotion into his scalp.

“You wouldn’t, by chance, know Ada, would you?” he asks quietly.

“‘Course,” you say with a soft chuckle. “She’s the only reason I have this job.”

Leon nods understandingly. "Sounds just like her. She’s got a way of reeling people in." A wry smile plays on his lips. "So what's next - you joining in on the shoot?"

"Over my dead body," you reply hastily. Leon tilts his head, the silent question molding into acceptance as you continue, "No, I'm just playing assistant for the day, making sure Ada and the girls have what they need. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Somehow, looking at Leon's amused expression, you have a feeling you’ll be in for a lot more than that. But that must be the week-old guacamole you bought from Chipotle and ate for lunch today.

<><><><>

The shoot seems to be running smoothly, at least on the outside, when you’re finally done fussing over the minor details, checking off a mental list and trying really hard not to let your gaze dip a little lower than it should.

He doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. He’s at least twenty years older than you. It only worked one way, didn’t it? Always did.

Next to the camera, you’ve taped reference pictures of other models artfully draped across ornate furniture, all courtesy of your work. You don’t exactly know what Leon’s advertising, but you caught a hint of the lavender rosemary liquid Helena was working on last week, so you assume it must be a fragrance shoot.

You spot Ada immediately, lounging on a chaise with one leg extended gracefully. Her emerald gaze flickers over as you approach.

"Well it's about time," she calls out, clapping her hands as she stands. "Hair and makeup, ten minutes ago."

Leon cracks a bemused smile. "We're here now, aren't we? Lead the way, assistant."

“How do you even know her?” you ask, slightly curious about their past, as you usher him into the couch.

“Acquaintances from our old job,” he mutters. And you quickly notice that something’s wrong. Leon looks too tense against the soft, relaxed background, too stressed as he frowns up at you, hands clasped between his spread legs.

So you do what you do best. You kneel in front of him, resting a hand on the ball of his knee. Once again, he steels at your touch, then relaxes, and you look up at him to see his jaw working, as if swallowing his words.

"What do you think you’re doing? Leon whispers, catching your wandering eyes.

“Just trying to help,” you say casually, with a shrug. It was safe to say you know what you’re doing, and even better, you can see it’s working. The corner of his mouth bunches up into a shit-eating grin, just the look you need.

<><><><>

Thirty minutes later, and not a single photo has pleased the director. He sits there like a goddamn statue, flickers of emotion passing his face only when spares a glimpse to the photos Ada calmly hands to him.

Her eyes are seething but her tone is level as she tells you in a low whisper, “I need some coffee or I will choke him.”

You know what that means. So, as if you’re programmed to do it, you swing by the cafe and pick up her coffee, two pumps of almond milk and light ice; the amount of times she’s sent you to fetch her drink is so absurd you’ve memorized it without meaning to.

You’re imagining the way her face will light up at the caffeinated drink chilling your hand, switching it to ease the strain on your fingers, when you turn the corner just as someone else does.

This someone else becomes only apparent to you after you’re done scolding them for not watching where they’re going, staring down at their faintly recognizable, designer brand, worn out shoes that currently have cappuccino dripping onto the material.

You drag your eyes up, ready to glare them down, when those blazing blue eyes meet yours and immediately you realize it’s all your fault, why weren’t you paying better attention to your surroundings?

Leon seems to be frozen, unable to move, as he stares down at his dripping shirt, and due to your perfect luck, the director also rounds the corner. He pushes Leon to the side, exposing the brown easily staining the white linen.

He presses a foot down on one of the stray ice cubes, crushing it and wiping his foot back. You grimace, paling at the idea of his wrath. Is this how you lose your job?

But Leon sighs patiently before he can say anything, inspecting the damage carefully. "Well, we had a good run. Not everything can go our way, hm?"

Your boss doesn’t seem to agree. He taps his foot rapidly on the tiles, a marching tempo, voice like sharpened steel. "You have exactly one minute before I find someone to replace you. Fix this, now."

Without another condition to his threat, he storms away to fume at the rest of the crew. They’ll be singing your praises for days, that's for sure. You wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out after him, sparking a rumbling chuckle from Leon. You roll your eyes and turn to him, jabbing him in the chest with your pointer finger.

“Why the hell does your shirt even matter when all you’re doing is smelling good?”

<><><><>

You quickly realize that the point of the shoot isn’t to showcase any scent. No, not at all.

The shoot starts like any other - adjusting lighting, discussing shots with the crew. But Ada's knowing smirk and the array of silky fabrics draped nearby piques your suspicion.

"Ada, tell me those aren't...?" you gesture weakly at the snug boxer briefs Leon now models, the only thing on his bare skin, miles of smooth, dewey skin, dimpled with years.

She laughs softly. "Don't pretend you're not enjoying the view. I can see it in your eyes.”

“But for the first shoot?” you whine.

“I don’t make the rules, hun. Now go powder his nose or something equally distracting."

You set to work on Leon's hair and makeup, desperately avoiding eye contact with his barely dressed form. But then he shifts, and the movement draws your gaze as his facade slips away, revealing a broad, scarred back, painted with the stories of his younger days, of memories lost to time.

Leon meets your hesitant eyes in the mirror, one brow cocked knowingly. "See something you like?"

You cough in response, flustered. "Just, uh, admiring my handiwork. You clean up well for a god, Ken- I meant, uh, an amateur model. Yeah. That’s what I said."

He chuckles, low and rich, echoing through your hollow eyes. "Whatever you say, assistant. Now, I believe we have some shots to take?"

He leaves you standing there, in a daze as you watch him saunter off, eyes fixed on a lower point of his back. It was going to be a long week keeping your eyes (and thoughts) professional.

The play of light and shadow dappling his skin, dipping into every crevice of his well-nurtured body and curving around his muscle is something you can’t keep your eyes off of.

He knows. You realize this with a sudden jolt as someone sighs nearby. He knows that everyone’s ogling, and he loves it. The arrogance only fuels his ego, you think, as a collective hush falls over you all.

And just like that, the cocky grin on his face is gone. You can at least admire how well Leon slides, almost effortlessly, into professional mode, shrugging at the director’s instructions to face the camera, to reveal sculpted plains of muscle and dusted chest hair.

Call someone to bring a water bucket, because watching him through the camera, your eyes to the world, the raw truth laid bare for you to witness, sparks flares of heat within you. You have a gut feeling that not even water can put it out.

You seek to capture the subtle shifts in expression on his face, the way his lips curve into a smile or his gaze lingers with a hint of longing. These small details, when frozen in time through the lens of your camera, seem to speak long tales of not only misery, but admiration.

And you catch exactly who they’re directed to.

Ada.

<><><><>

“What do you mean, nothing?” Leon scoffs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re pissy and this is the seventeenth time you’ve nearly pulled out my hair!”

“It’s not like there’s much left, anyways,” you snap back, equally as irritated as you yank at the strands, forcing them to separate, trying to clean the product. Against everything, you still feel the tiniest bit guilty when Leon winces.

“He’s not that old,” Ada calls out, swaying over to the cafe.

“Exactly,” Leon says, but he’s chuckling now, and he waves in greeting to her.

You can’t help but force a smile, trying to make your reaction seem genuine, your silent hatred unnoticeable. This isn’t healthy.

A man? Coming between you and your only friend in this wretched place? What are you, a teenager? But you can’t deny the disgusting, poison green envy that unspools in your stomach, catching onto the flames and turning them into toxic vapor everytime you notice his lingering eyes, her thoughtful smile, the small touches they think no one notices.

It’s hard for you not to, especially when you know he’s been teasing you all week, the bastard. You suppose you should be glad today is the second to last day of this collaboration, and that you’ll never see him after this. Pray that his movies never feature at the local theater again.

But why does he have to be so beautiful? You want to strangle the sculptor, the majestic mind that saw him in the block of hard set marble and brought him to life, all chiseled, lean body, marked with stories, the body you have to stare at with a stony expression as you click the camera. Yet the softest, most gentle touches you’ve ever felt come from him.

Soft like his fingers around your wrist as he glances up at you, evident concern in his azure gaze. "Hey, is everything okay? You seem down."

You shake your head dismissively. "It's fine. Just tired of playing assistant, I guess."

A frown twists his lips. "You know that's not all it was." His thumb rubbed gentle strokes on your skin, setting your nerves alight. "I didn't mean to lead you on if... Well, you seem so young, I didn't want to assume or make you uncomfortable."

Your breath hitches as he stares at you, awaiting your reply. Fortune favors the bold, right? In a rush of courage, you lean down to brush your lips against his stubbled cheek, just the faintest touch.

"Why don’t you come over tonight and try me?"

<><><><>

Leon’s always been depicted in shades of gray, through your camera, the filters of monochrome, white, gray and black sweeping him into dramatic stories. However many shades you have seen in him, more than fifty, you think absently.

When you met him, the glacier tilt of his glistening eyes.

When you shot him, iron gray, the set of his jaw in pondering poses.

The fog his breath on your bare skin, as exposed to him as he was once to you, ash in the scratch of his stubble that sets fire to every part of you it brushes, anchor to the peace bringing doves taking off against your shoulder where his eyelashes flutter, peppering your collarbone with cautious, restrained kisses.

He’s holding back. Right now, he’s the soft gray that washes over the hills in the early mornings, the gray of your tea as you stare out at the horizon.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing wisps of hair that stick to his face away. Leon glances down at you, eyes contorted in pain.

“I-I can’t,” he chokes out. You’ve never seen him cry, but pearls well up in his icy, stormy eyes, clouds of emotion raining down his cheeks.

So you kiss the hurt away. You push him into the linen bed sheets, muse something about the coffee incident, which sparks a broken chuckle from his glorious, glorious mouth.

Eventually all sorts of things are sprouting from between those lips. You think most of them are profanities, but you’d prefer that over sobbing.

You realize that you never want to see him cry.

Never see the smoky pallor of his face.

<><><><>

You wake to the sounds of metal creaking and strange gushing sounds that you can’t identify. Slightly concerned, you pull on the blinds, letting the dawn sun wash over your tired expression as you peer down at the hotel parking lot.

“Is he…” You squint, rubbing your eyes and blinking before looking back.

Yeah, you were right the first time.

“Why are you- when did you- what?”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The corner of his mouth crinkles into a sappy smile, barely visible from under the gleaming, spotless body of a motorcycle. “You aren’t the only one that can multitask.”

“You know you have a shoot today, right?" You rub your eyes, further taking the scene in. He’s definitely been working on the bike for some time, if the spread of tools was any sign.

He waves off your complaint with a huff. “That’s irrelevant. Besides, she matters more to me.”

“She?” You scoff.

"I know, I know." Leon wipes his hands, sliding out from beneath the vehicle with a half-sheepish, half-proud grin. "This old girl needed a tune-up, and I couldn't help myself. You know how it is."

You crouch to his level, sighing and wanting to be annoyed with his spontaneity but finding it hard in the glow of his expression, with the passion that sparkles in his eyes. "Just try not to get too grimy before call time, Leon. Ada will have both our heads."

Leon chuckles, unconcerned as always. "No worries. A quick shower and I'll be shining for the camera again." He waves off your complaint with a huff. “Besides, she matters more to me.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. "She who?"

Leon grins, running a loving hand along the motorcycle's frame. "Why, my precious Matilda, of course."

“Isn’t that your cat's name?”

“Yes… and?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a fond smile. Only Leon would think of naming his vehicle. "Ah, now it all makes sense. I should've known no flesh and blood woman could ever compare to your one true love, your Ducati."

Leon meets your gaze with utmost sincerity, face twinged with amusement as he presses a fleeting kiss to your forehead, curling his fingers around the back of your head.

And his eyes are missing those rolling fogs.

Clear skies.

“Well, some things a man just has to do with his hands, you know?"