— in which! a hot lady suddenly moved in next door and got your life utterly fucked.
OR Ada Wong is your not-so-typical unfriendly neighborhood tattoo artist, and you own a coffee shop beside her.
word count! 2.5k
content! cliché, idiots in love, MDNI HEAVY MAKEOUT SESH, f!reader (wuhluhwuh), eng not my first lang, this was s'pposed to be posted with my anniv special but i got hit w writer's block soooo i couldn't finish some of 'em, this is my sacrifice. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! not beta-ed we die like my wips
loosely inspired by: kaba by tootsie guevarra
Your day started with you banging on your newly moved-in neighbor’s door.
Why? Because who the fuck would think that it’s a good idea to blast metal rock at the crack-ass of dawn? Your neighbor, apparently.
See, it would’ve been fine if it were the first time they did it. But nooo. Since the lot became occupied, your mornings have never been quite the same. If KISS’s I Was Made For Lovin’ You wasn’t playing on loop, you’d think the person next door had been kidnapped.
So, yes, while terribly endearing (haha), you really, really want to sleep in. Maybe a peaceful day where you won’t hear any 70’s rock metal, preferably. God forbid a girl just wants her peaceful mornings listening to birds singing while making coffee.
“What is it, Karen?” Someone grumbled, madly annoyed, just from her tone.
You would’ve been lying if you said that didn’t pissed you off.
But you also would’ve been lying even harder if you said that the drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman didn’t make your tongue twist in a pretty bow.
God, fuck. Why were you always so damn pathetically weak for hot women?
“Hello? Are you just gonna stand there ogling or what?” The pretty woman snapped her finger in your face, just as sassy as her tone. Shit, you were too obvious, weren’t you?
As if snapping out of a trance, you shook your head, a polite smile forcing its return to your face, as you returned her eye contact. Rude and hot. Of-fucking-course.
“I’m sorry, that was quite rude of me, wasn’t it?” You started, kinda sheepish. “Would you mind lowering the volume of your… wake-up call? It’s disturbing some people’s sleep.”
“Are you implying that I’m a nuisance?” She scoffed, already turning her heels and closing the door before even letting you speak. Your polite smile vanished, turning into a bitter scowl. You really would’ve liked her if not for her shitty attitude.
Deciding to be the bigger person, you walked away, disregarding the interaction for the sake of your mental health. But you did notice the dramatic decrease in volume from her bass speaker. Maybe the pretty neighbor was just horseshit at social interactions, after all.
That, ladies and gentlemen, queers and non-binaries, is your very first interaction with your suspicious, drop-dead gorgeous, loud next-door neighbor, Ms. Wong (yes, you still don’t know her first name; her porch did not exactly come with a birth certificate attached to it, y’know).
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You should’ve known the universe has been wanting to fuck you up in the ass. It’s been giving you signs, and you just. like. ignoring. it.
First, it was that hot neighbor and her loud-ass bass. Second, there were your unbearably warm pillows that put lava to shame. Third, your brand new fucking espresso machine that—for the love of everything holy and unholy—refused to turn the fuck on.
Fourth, is—well—how could you say this in a… less offensive tone?
Right.
Fourth, your fuckass, incredibly rude (& hot) house neighbor is also your neighbor here. At your freaking job.
She’s the owner of the newly bought tattoo parlor, right. next. to. yours.
Fuck your life, man.
“Hey, are you stalking me?” You barely registered her saying. Matter of fact, you barely fuckin’ registered her walking up to you—with a nasty smirk.
“No, I—… I work here!” You sputtered, pink dusting your flushed cheeks. You heard her chuckle—god, it was a fucking experience. It was light and airy, amusement dancing in her features. You actually cannot do this right now—
“Whatever you say, weirdo. You own that cute cafe, yeah?”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“Say, if I order, will there be a discount?”
“And for what? Being my neighbor doesn’t guarantee you a—”
“For, you know, letting you stare down for free. Don’t bother denying; I saw where your eyes were earlier—it’s not exactly in my eyes.”
…
The fuck could you even respond to that?!
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You gave one for free.
Out of spite.
“Don’t ever talk about this to anyone, ever again. In fact, don’t even come near my shop. You’re getting banned.” You stood in front of her, slamming the large cup on a nearby table with a glare that could rival a dinosaur. She thinks you look like a noisy kitten.
She then proceeded to stare at you with a twinkle in her eyes that meant you’d definitely see her again. Like, okay, of course you will. You’re damn neighbors freaking everywhere—but that’s not the point!
“Name’s Ada Wong, doll. Y’know, in case you wanna stalk me some more.”
Now that made you storm off in frustration. Loudly stomping your feet and slamming the door like a toddler having a tantrum.
And if you hear a soft, airy chuckle that makes your heart skip several beats for a minute? Well, that’s not the pandora’s box you wanna open.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Days bled to weeks, and weeks sped by to months; you know what became a constant? Your banter with the one and only, your unfriendly neighborhood tattoo artist, Miss Ma’am Ada Wong.
Well, more like she’s bantering, and you’re stubbornly refusing to lose—exactly like an angry kitten being poked like a hundred times (her exact words, not yours).
It’s annoying; it’s hot. Oftentimes, you rub one out to release your (sexual) frustration. And when the post-nut clarity hits? Fuck, you keep on wondering what the hell fucking happened, and why the hell were you not shoving your tongues in each other’s throats? Because holy fuck, there’s tension. That’s a fact. You know that as a fact. Because why else does she stare at your lips while royally pissing you off, looking utterly pleased with herself?
“Hey,” Ada called your name, rousing you out of your reverie. Fuck, you really gotta stop doing that.
“The hell you want, Bobcut?”
“Oh? That’s new. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“You—I mean, your loud-ass music. It’s deafening my ears.” That got her brow raised. She never really turned up her music today—not at home, not at her shop.
“Okay, weirdo. Do you always—”
“Sweets! Hey!” Ada heard a man shout, calling your attention. If she felt her eye twitch, she refused to talk about that. You were on your break, for godssake! And break meant you spending your time being pissy in her parlor while eating lunch. Fucking hell.
“Oh? Hey!” She saw your eyes brighten up, making hers dim. Not that god-awful man again. She walked away without saying anything, and if you saw her roll her eyes in annoyance? Well, all she’s gonna be doing is to deny, deny, deny.
“Oh my gosh—I told you to stop touching me like that!” Your sudden, distressed shout made Ada still, her hands clenched into a fist. She turned back, again, intervening against her better judgment.
“Doll? What’re you still doing here? Thought we’d leave early.” She said sweetly, as if you literally weren’t arguing about penguin tattoos moments prior.
“Must’ve slipped my mind, ‘m sorry.” You whispered, trembling while looking at her like she was your salvation. God, you hated the fact that her effects on you were still so fucking strong—even if you’re annoyed out of your mind with some fuckwit regular being a little too touchy.
“Naughty. I’ve reminded you that al—” her airy chuckles permeate the air before she is rudely cut off. By a man, no less. That got your eye twitch.
“Sorry, who are you?” The man bitterly said, sizing her up. Ada didn’t spare him a single glance. She just leaned to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smoothly tracing her fingers to pinch your cheek. You felt like you had suddenly entered an alternate universe.
“Let’s get the hell out, yeah?” She whispered with a secret smile, beckoning you to stand up and holding your hand. Just as you did, you felt the man roughly grab your arm, leading you to almost stumble—if not for Ada’s support, gently steadying you.
“Hey, I’m still talking to you!” The man grunted, his grip tightening painfully, making you wince.
“Let go!—the fuck is wrong with you?!” You tried yanking your arm away, but it was futile. Fucking hell, you could already feel a nasty handprint-bruise forming.
While Ada? Ada is fucking livid; she could see flames. How dare he touch you? A god-awful, filthy stain in a shoe, man fucking touched you.
“Get your hands off, ‘else you want it gone.” She spat, jaw clenched with a matching glare that could shoot him dead. An icy chill ran down the pathetic man’s spine, making his grip slightly falter. But he couldn’t let go—not yet. He refused to. His ego’s way too big for that.
Listen, if you weren’t—quite literally—stuck being manhandled by an asshole, you would’ve kissed her by now. Like, seriously, she looks so fucking cute protecting you. Your head is becoming concerningly jumbled, and it wasn’t because of the asshole or the situation—well, okay, maybe if the situation was named Ada Wong, theeeeen you’ll bite.
“How about a no—” Before anything could be said or heard, a loud smack! rang in the silent room. One moment, the man was standing beside you (roughly gripping your poor, unfortunate arm), then the next, he was down to the ground, clutching his face with tears in his eyes, sporting a nasty bruise and an ugly lip cut.
“My girlfriend is not yours to touch—more or less, hurt.” She hissed, standing in front of you protectively. You don’t know how she got there, but you do know one thing for certain: something dripped, and it’s not tears nor sweat.
She stomped at the man one last time before facing you, silently scanning where you’ve been hurt. Her eyes zeroed in on your arm; splotches of red and purple in place of fingerprints were visible. “You’re hurt.” Her words soften as she places her hand on the small of your back, leading you further inside.
If you heard her employees (and customers) whisper and whistle in congratulations, well, you grinned in pride (Ada just looked mad defeated, but the smile she was fighting off speaks a LOT).
She guided you to her private booth, closing the door for privacy.
“Hey, I’m sorry for ca—”
“Did you mean it?” You breathe, looking at her with glistening eyes.
“Were you uncomfortable? Sorry, I—”
“No, I don’t give a shit. Did you mean it?” You persisted, gently holding her hands, tracing absent circles—either to comfort her or yourself, you weren’t quite sure.
Ada took a deep breath, her grip on you slightly tightening subconsciously before loosening.
“I do.” She whispered as if it were the first breath of fresh air. “From the moment you bitched about my loud bass, I knew I was done for.”
You didn’t speak, letting her finish. You continued to stare at her in the same fond manner you’ve always had. You continued to admire her raven locks and her bob cut that always manages to frame her face perfectly. You continued to look at her twinkling eyes, which always seemed to bring sarcasm and wit. You continued to gaze at her soft, kissable, pink lips—you’ve never once seen them chapped. Fuck, you’re in this deep, aren’t you?
“I never said anything because, well, I don’t know if you even like women that way—fuck, if you even like me that way.” Even if she couldn’t hold back the self-deprecating laugh she let out, she continued. “I just—I was just content with being whatever we are ‘cause I’d rather have that… than not have you at all.” Her voice gradually faded into a whisper, a testament to how much the ruthless yet graceful lady exterior earlier crumbled in the face of an uncertain variable called love.
Specifically loving a woman you didn’t know loves you back, and is currently clenching her fist to calm herself down, leaving her palm with mini crescents because—holy fucking shit, what do you mean my long-time crush-slash-enemy-ish just confessed to me aaaaaaaaaaahhh—but it’s whatever.
“I—… Fuck, it’s about time.” You threw your arms around her neck, grip slightly tightening with joy. “Thought you were never gonna say something.” You whispered in her ear—catching her off guard.
“I—”
“I like you. So much.” With your voice that only whispers the truth, Ada felt as if this godforsaken world finally did her right.
You leaned close, noses touching as you waited for her permission to continue. She closed the gap, not even a second later.
Her lips were soft, languidly moving in yours like a waltz. Her hand cupped the back of your head, while her other hand traced your back before settling on the curve of your waist—pulling you impossibly closer. You couldn't help but melt into her arms, parting your lips with a gasp. She took that opportunity to swirl her tongue in yours, greedily exploring the crevices of your mouth. Mewls and whimpers bubbled in your throat as she took it with a grin—lightly sucking your tongue.
You didn't know when she pulled away, just the fact that after she did, warm, wet kisses trailed to the column of your neck.
“F-fuck, babe.” You whimpered, mind barely functioning, as she was the only one keeping you anchored.
Ada chuckled, her hand trailing from the back of your neck down to your collarbone. She tugged the neckline of your blouse before popping open a button.
“Can't let other people think you're up for grabs, Doll. Gotta fix that, don't you think?” She mumbled to your skin, expertly finding your sweet spot. She licked a stripe before making marks with a vigour you didn't think she had. It wasn't long until she had you putty on her hold.
You were a mess. A whimpering, moaning mess. Ada thinks she could print out the sight from just her memory. Fuck, you look too pretty with lipstick smudges decorating your lips and her marks that littered your neck—with your brows furrowed in pleasure, and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest.
You're a masterpiece she wanted to be framed on her walls to spend hours worshipping.
“My needy Doll. You’re already this worked out after a bit of kissing? Haven’t even tasted you yet.” She hummed, tucking the stray strands of your hair behind your ear.
She then leaned close to your ear, her teeth grazing the tips, as her warm breathy whisper made you shiver. “Bet my needy doll’s already dripping for me, hm?”
ME NEXT ADA ME NEXT!! also i have to get real formal for a bit, i saw some minors interacting my sttnshp! leon fic and as much as i love love LOVE my readers, i would prefer if you don't interact w my fics w heavy suggestive shit—esp if it has allusions to SEXUAL INTERCOURSE!!! internet safety or whatnot. anywhooooo, did you enjoy this one? i struggled with proofreading this 'cuz ada just makes me crumble into a ball and giggle like a maniac. i really hope i freaking finish my wips like i SWEAR, i have a lot planned but it's hindering meeeeeeeeee!!! i was abt to publish a vanta fic too smh. as always, rbs are appreciated, inbox is open if u wanna send smexy ideas to get me out of my slump and hehhe ily mwah! see u on the next post!
'te tangina nababaliw na 'ko sa this one fic na ni-wwrite ko—i feel like dahil talaga 'to sa pakikinig ko sa news abt senate habang nag-wwrite ng borderline smut lmao FUCK
things I won’t let ai take away from human writers
em dash
“not x, not y, but z”
short sentence stacking as a stylistic choice
none of these belong to ai. these are all what human writers have been writing since day one, way before ai was invented. ai was trained to mimic how human writers write — so em dash, not x not y but z and short sentence stacking would never have been used by ai at all if ai hadn’t learned and mimicked them from human writers.
no, you are not “fighting against ai” by accusing every work that has em dash, not x not y but z or short sentence stacking in it as ai-generated, you are helping ai harm the writing community by engaging in witch hunt and scaring human writers away from creating/sharing their works for fear of being wrongly accused of using ai.
speculations, accusations and ai witch hunt harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
𓂃 ࣪ ࣪⋆✩˚ ༘ [leon kennedy]: head empty, just old friend! leon reunion
— in which! spend the day bonding with an oversized puppy named leon ass kennedy.
wordcount! 1.5k (short 'n sweet)
warning! cliché, idiots in love, f! reader, fluff because what I'll be posting in the following days will be anything BUT fluff lmao, sumn short 'n sweet while I finish my anniv special fics, eng not my first lang, not beta'ed we die like leon's missing jackets, treat this as a warm up pretty please thankyeiw, wrote this in less than 10 hrs oh fuck im DOOMED! TIMELINE IS A YEAR AFTER RE4
check out part 01!
You couldn’t talk yourself out of the situation. Like you tried, yes, but goddamn, he really knew how to convince a poor, innocent, unsuspecting woman like yourself. Curse his stupidly good genes (and those corny ass jokes, ugh! damn that dork).
You honestly don’t know what to expect. He’s always been good to you—ever since you could remember. Hell, if not for the fact that he moved closer to his job at Racoon City, you think you would’ve been dating him. But, as you know, life doesn’t (unfortunately) work that way.
The send-off was mediocre, at best. Promising to keep in contact (lmao lies), last hugs, and lingering touches that probably weren’t appropriate at that time.
You got this, yeah? It’s just Leon—the sperm donor of your cute adorable purple child. It’ll be fine.
Then, you walked inside the cozy cafe he insisted you’d like. Just by looking at the interior, you have a pretty good hunch that you’ll love it. Fuck, he still knows you like the back of his hand.
It wasn’t long until you found a familiar mop of dirty blond sitting near the windows, looking drop-dead gorgeous and so far away. Like life didn’t treat him too kindly after he moved.
Leon, on the other hand, was beating himself up because what the fuck prompted him to ask you out so suddenly? Especially now that he’s juggling more than he could carry—of course he doesn’t want to burden you further! Damnit, he really needs to talk to his therapist—!!
His self-monologue was abruptly cut short after he heard the click-clack of heels walking towards him that he could only guess belonged to you.
“Hey, Kennedy. Fancy seeing you here. Looking for someone?” You drawled, a playful grin involuntarily crawling to your face. Mentally, you cringed. Physically, Leon felt the heat make itself at home on the tips of his ears.
“Yeah, a mischievous brat wearing…” He checked you out, subtlety not in this man’s vocabulary. “A vintage heart-shaped amethyst necklace given by me five years ago.”
Damn, he clocked your shit. That fast, too.
“Ugh, you’re still as annoying as ever, Lee.” You rolled your eyes, fighting off the smile that threatened to surface, easily slipping into the chair. It was soft and—god, he’s so fucking perfect. You blinked, trying to redirect your thoughts to—fuck, you missed his sweet smile.
Oh shit, you’re doomed.
Leon is not faring any better. His thoughts consist of a variation of ‘jesus christ, she’s doing that addicting smile again’, ‘she smells like—wait, is she wearing that perfume from college?’, ‘gun to my head—fuck—she’s gorgeous’. See, told you. Not any better.
“And you’re still as sassy as ever, sweets. But you don’t see me complaining now, do you?”
“Drama queen.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes.
“Your drama queen.” He whistled, easily falling back into that push-pull rhythm.
“And you’re such a flirt!”
“I prefer the term ‘lady’s man’.”
“You mean loser?”
“You’re still mean.”
“Some things never change, yeah?”
He laughed at that, feeling like he had gone back to being a young, impressionable teen again. The banter felt as easy as breathing—of course, it is. When he’s with you, it always feels like the world outside your bubble was an afterthought.
Nothing else matters except the mad easy atmosphere both of you unknowingly created.
“Order whatever you’d like, missy. Y’know it’s on me.” What’s annoying is that it’s true. Ever since you were teens, Leon has never let you spend a dime when he’s with you. It doesn’t matter if he took extra shifts in his part-time job; he absolutely refuses to let you touch your wallet.
“Yeah? Looks like your job’s treating your bank well.”
He stiffened, and rapid flashes of his fucked-up job appeared in his mind before he quickly shook it off. “…You could say that.”
If it were others, you don’t think you’d notice the light change in the atmosphere. But this is Leon you’re talking about. You know his quirks and tells, even if he doesn’t notice himself. You’re not gonna lie, you thought time had changed him, given the dramatic change in his physical attributes.
But you couldn’t be any more wrong. This was still the Leon who crashed at your dorm when he got rejected by his crush at fifteen. The same Leon who stuck with you while watching god-awful movies until three a.m. The same Leon who cried in your arms while watching animal documentaries.
He was still the same Leon you’ve unknowingly memorized throughout the years. Just… more hidden. More reserved.
But never from you.
Your hand moved before you could even think, moving in front of his—lightly touching his fingertips. “‘m sorry, Lee. The world must’ve been unkind.”
He didn’t reply. He just moved his hand, placing it on top of yours, moving his thumb in circles before so softly sighing—a light smile making its way on his lips.
“Order for me? You’ve always known me best.” You whispered, looking at him expectantly, waiting for his familiar brag of ‘of course, I know you best—you’re my sweets’.
Meanwhile, Leon—poor, unfortunate Leon—was mentally panicking. Not only did you read him like an open book (even though he knew he was keeping his emotions in check, fuck, his facial expression in check), you were also expecting him to choose for you. You trust him, even though you were the biggest picky eater he knows alive.
That’s a lot of pressure for a guy who can’t even stop his heart rate from increasing and is actively trying to get out of its cage called ribs.
“Tough decision, sweets. Is this a test?”
“Dunno, guess we’ll have to wait for the results.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
To say that Leon still knows you is an understatement.
Because each pastry he feeds you is exactly to your liking (yes, feeds, you were teasing that guy too much, so he feeds you to keep your mouth shut). And your coffee? Perfectly the way you like it. It’s annoying how he still knows you, even after three whole ass years with zero contact.
It pissed you off, actually. But Leon would argue otherwise.
He’s looking at you with those damn hearts in his eyes—he doesn’t even think you notice, too busy munching on the carefully made tiramisu on your plate. Honestly, he wanted to bite your squirrel-like cheeks off (respectfully).
“Lee, ‘m literally melting. What the heck—stop staring!” You whined, lightly kicking his foot below the table. He swiftly caught your foot after your third kick, gently caressing as he looked at you with a grin. “H-hey..!”
“You’re such a brat, sweets. What if my leg were injured, hm?”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“That’s your answer.”
His eyes narrowed, sucking his bottom lip while fighting off that huge ass mischievous grin that begs to be let out before lightly squeezing your ankle and letting you go. He leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a challenging spark you had been used to.
“Brat.” He started.
“Karen.” You replied, just as swiftly.
“Spoiled rotten.”
“Old man.”
“I’m literally just a year older!” He scoffed.
“Back pains.” You paid him no mind, sipping your coffee as if you didn’t just K.O.‘d his pride.
“Take that back??” He feigned a gasp and acted offended, clutching his heart like a dramatic little idiot he is.
That made you laugh. The little fits of giggles made it so hard to breathe—it truly has been a while since someone made you laugh that hard. But it was always so damn easy when it came to him.
And Leon? He couldn’t help but stop and stare. He had forgotten how beautiful your laughs were. How innocent it sounded. And… once upon a time, his laughs were similar to yours, too.
Leon cherishes you. So much.
So damn much, to the point that he is willing to walk away from you again, just so he can protect your heart.
Honestly, he didn’t know what he was thinking to offer you a little get-together—a little date. But fuck, he’d like to thank his past self for that decision. Call it selfish, he doesn’t give a shit because that way, he could peacefully walk away from you, taking in your sweet laughs as a memory to be forever kept. Something to get by the following days.
Because after he finishes this agent thing bullshit? Yeah, he’s taking you out on a sweet date again. Doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as he gets to see you? That’s enough for him.
old friend! leon who you lost contact three years ago due to life fucking you in the ass.
old friend! leon who is still your mutual on Twitter, so you replied to his message from 3 years ago because you were drunk the fuck out of your mind, fully rejecting the idea that he’ll reply because his last post was dated two years ago.
old friend! leon who shocked you outta your mind because he replied five weeks later, confused as fuck as to why you were texting him after three years, replying about something he said before that just got delivered.
old friend! leon who suddenly replied back not a second later after you decided to reply to his message.
old friend! leon who, to make the conversation longer, asked you about the plushie he gifted you four years ago; you replied that she was well-loved.
old friend! leon who directly asked you to send a picture of your plush child for some reason, and you did, spending a few minutes to capture the perfect angle.
old friend! leon who bugs you about the state of your (very) well-loved child, indirectly questioning why it turned out the way it did (a little chunky)—and you fall for it because you’re an easy target to ragebait.
old friend! leon who likes teasing you a tad bit too much, so he does everything he can to get you to reply, not even minding your attempts to end the conversation by just reacting in emoji, because trust that he will tease you for that as well—no matter what emoji, he actually WILL.
old friend! leon who smiles in his sheets while still actively trying to make you respond; unbeknownst to him, though, you were already rolling on yours—giggling—because the current men in your life are disappointing you 'cause they just don’t. know. how. to. banter. right! and it just so happens that it's something old friend! leon had mastered.
old friend! leon who you just know grew up fine as fuck, given you’re still mutuals in other social media platforms—you accidentally saw one of his thirst traps and safe to say you’ve been relatively hooked since then.
old friend! leon who rarely posts anything on social media aside from his gym shits and body tea. glowed up so good, he had'ta gatekeep.
old friend! leon who still teases you for being sassy, even after three whole years had passed without contact, and god, holy fuck, you swooned at that.
old friend! leon who had half a mind to ask you out so he can taunt you in person while admiring your reactions. what can he say? he really likes seeing your stupid attempts in hiding your smile—as if your light flush doesn't speak enough.
not beta'ed, rawdogged this on tumblr dot com and uhhhh here's a little something until i finish my wip fics okayyy? pls ignore the errors, i just rawdogged this lmaooo ily byebye
