i know you requests are closed, but i am wondering if you are willing to write AUs, like hmmmmm starwars AU?? or royal AU??
YES! so far i’ve only done college aus already but i do have a royal au in the works coming after i finish requests!
I love making alternate universe fics because of how much freedom comes with it over canon so when requests open up again dont be a strangers id love to write one !!
I do not have any requests at the moment but I want to pop in and thank you for doing your part because there's such a lack of quality x male reader stuff and it's very appreciated :)
aww thank you so much!
i know we male reader writer a few to none but im glad to see the community building steadily. I am just happy to make a place you guys are comfortable to express in with me! ^-^
also when you do have a request i would be glad to write it!
Have you thought about publishing your fics on AO3? It's a much better reading/discovery platform than Tumblr and there's a lot of people there who would love more Leon x Male Reader stuff :)
i have considered it actually! its just the act of getting used to that platform before i start anything. i might just start writing bigger things for that platform since it doesn’t have a hard word limit like tumblr does! :))
also after my requests dwindle down and i get a little more free time i will be making a long series on AO3! I did want to ask if people would like to see it posted here as well or if just shared via link to the site?
Sorry for late replies had a few developments in my life that were a little draining
I very much can havent written any detailed smut so i am rusty in that department but im looking into starting actually! That and also its counter party ( bottom reader )!
never was very clear with this but i can also accept smut requests! they might take me a minute longer because of how raw i view the action of sex but yes i can do this
honestly yes lmao i haven’t done a good sum of the things i wrote and just researched heavy through internet and friends who have and just gone woth a flow lol
hello?? highest in the room and you still dont see eye to eye fic was scrumptious!! perfection in every way! and the mystery with wesker?? i wanna know, but also i don’t, but i do, AhHhh
ahhh im so glad you liked it!
ill keep it secret for now but like give it a day and ill forget and blurt it out lmao.
leon rescuing m!reader from victor gideon, R has been experimented on and is exhausted beyond comprehension he confessed to leon because he thinks he’s just hallucinating again
even through all the pain,
he was your guiding light
m!reader, cannon typical violence, mentions of being tested and drugged, heavy angst to comfort
When you were assigned the case involving the victims of Raccoon City Syndrome, you knew it was only a matter of time before it started affecting the people inside the DSO too.
You just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.
The symptoms had progressed slower in both you and Sherry, but Leon...
Leon was different.
He brushed it off with tired jokes and complaints about getting older, but you saw through him. You noticed the marks spreading little by little beneath his clothes. Noticed how he covered more of himself every week. How he'd smile and say he was fine while quietly trying to keep everyone from worrying.
It only made you worry more.
Maybe what you did was reckless.
No — it was reckless.
But sitting around waiting for orders while your friends suffered felt impossible.
So you started digging on your own.
Victim files. Off-record reports. Personal contacts.
Anything.
You were searching for loopholes, for patterns, for something everyone else had missed.
And eventually, something surfaced.
The Spencer Foundation.
Its name kept appearing over and over.
After enough digging, you found an operating care center in Rhode Hills.
Without telling anyone, you left.
You thought you could handle it quietly.
Get in, get answers, come back with something useful.
Something that could help Sherry.
Something that could help Leon.
You let determination turn into haste.
And haste made you stupid.
The place practically screamed trap.
Everything felt wrong.
The spotless white halls. The smiling doctors. The rehearsed sympathy in their voices…
… but the moment they mentioned experimental treatments suppressing the virus symptoms —
You listened.
Victor Gideon, lead researcher and head physician, claimed he'd suffered himself before finding a way to fight back.
He promised he'd show you.
And like an idiot you followed.
Then everything went black.
You woke up restrained.
The truth unraveled slowly after that.
The facility had once belonged to Umbrella before its collapse. Gideon seemed almost proud of it.
He told you everything like some maniac giving a victory speech.
You fought back.
God, you fought back.
You tried getting messages out. Tried escaping. Tried hurting anyone who came near you — but none of it mattered.
You were outnumbered.
Drugged. Experimented on. Reduced to another subject in a room full of them.
You stopped knowing how long you'd been there.
The fluorescent lights never changed.
No windows. No time.
No day. No night.
Even when consciousness drifted in and out, the clock on the wall always read the same.
Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn't.
You couldn't tell anymore.
You still had fight left in you.
At least for a while.
But eventually it wasn't anger keeping you alive.
It was the hallucinations.
Faces appeared through the haze. Agents. Friends. People you knew. People long gone.
Most disappeared as quickly as they came.
But Leon stayed.
Leon was always there.
When doctors injected you with things.
When they strapped you down, chained you up by your wrists in the operating room.
He'd stand nearby, watching with eyes heavy with helplessness.
Sometimes he spoke.
His voice always sounded distant like it was underwater.
Words blurred together like prayers through static.
Still...
it kept you going through it all.
Gunfire.
Screams.
You surfaced slowly.
Ah.
This dream again.
Your wrists ached dully as you hung from the restraints.
The hallucinations always followed the same order.
Groans outside. A few gunshots.
Silence.
Then—
The door burst open.
Leon stepped through with his gun raised.
Same as always.
But then something felt… wrong.
When he saw you, his expression immediately shattered.
Not just shock.
Fear.
Real fear.
"Jesus Christ..." His voice wasn't muffled.
You stared.
Leon crossed the room immediately.
"Hey." His hands moved quickly toward the restraints. "Hey, stay with me, alright? Look at me."
You blinked slowly.
That was new.
Usually he said something different. Usually the dream ended sooner.
"Can you hear me?"
You watched him search frantically around the room.
"Le...on..."
Your throat felt like sandpaper.
His shoulders stiffened instantly.
Then you saw it.
His hands were shaking. Leon Kennedy's hands were shaking.
"...I'm here," he said quietly.
Too quietly.
A gunshot rang out.
Suddenly the restraints released.
You hit the floor or... you should have.
Instead, strong arms caught you.
Leon dropped beside you immediately.
You barely felt him pulling needles from your skin.
Barely felt the bandages. Barely felt anything at all.
You smiled weakly.
"It's okay..." The words scraped out of your throat. "I could handle it..."
Leon looked like you'd stabbed him.
"No." His voice cracked slightly. "No, don't say that."
He pulled you closer.
"I should've found you sooner."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Then immediately:
"...Forget that."
Classic Leon.
Still trying to shove his feelings back down. Even now.
You lifted a trembling hand toward his face.
His hand covered yours immediately.
"I wanted... to save you..." Your eyes struggled to focus. "I messed up."
Leon swallowed hard.
"No."
Just one word.
Firm.
Certain.
"No, you don't get to blame yourself right now."
He lifted you into his arms and carried you out.
Leon moved fast.
You could feel it in the way his steps jarred your body against his chest, in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, in the distant sounds of gunfire and infected cries bleeding together around you.
Your hearing came and went in strange waves.
One moment there were voices.
The next, nothing.
You felt Leon shift you slightly in his arms as he pushed through another door.
Bright lights. Cleaner walls. A room.
Not the operating room. Different.
You frowned weakly.
That wasn't supposed to happen. The dream was changing.
Leon lowered you carefully onto a bed and immediately turned away, tearing through cabinets and drawers like a man possessed.
Metal clattered. Glass rattled.
He kept moving.
Too fast.
Too frantic.
You watched him through half-lidded eyes.
He was saying something.
Into a communicator maybe.
You couldn't understand any of it.
His words melted together into muffled static.
Maybe he was talking to Sherry.
Maybe he wasn't talking at all.
You weren't sure anymore.
Your body felt heavy.
Distant.
Like were sinking back into your dispair.
"...Leon."
The sound barely escaped you.
Yet somehow he heard it immediately.
He was beside you in an instant.
Kneeling.
Blue eyes fixed entirely on you.
His face looked exhausted.
You'd never seen him look so terrified before.
Not even in your dreams.
His hand found yours.
"Hey," he said quietly.
His thumb brushed weak circles against your skin.
"I'm here."
You smiled a little.
"I always dream about you."
Leon froze. You didn't notice.
"You've been keeping me..." Your eyes struggled to stay open. "...strong."
His grip tightened.
"You don't have to talk right now."
"But I want to." The words slurred together.
You fought to stay awake.
Fought to keep looking at him.
Because if this really was another hallucination—
you wanted it to last.
"I always wanted..." Your breathing hitched slightly. "...wanted to be closer to you."
Leon swallowed hard.
"Hey."
His voice was gentler now.
Dangerously gentle.
The kind of voice people used when they were trying not to break.
"Don't do this."
You blinked at him.
Don't do what?
"If I don't..." You struggled for air. "...wake up again..."
His jaw tightened.
"No."
"...you need to know."
"No."
"Leon—"
"No."
The word came out sharp this time.
For the first time since he'd found you, there was anger.
Not at you.
At the situation. At himself. At everything.
His forehead dropped against your hand.
You barely felt the warm drops against your skin.
For a second your hazy mind struggled to understand.
Leon didn't cry.
Leon never cried.
Not your Leon.
Not the Leon in your dreams.
"...I love you."
Everything went quiet.
Even Leon stopped moving.
You barely felt your own heartbeat anymore.
"I've loved you..." you whispered. "...for a long time."
Your vision blurred further.
"I was scared." Your voice trembled.
"Sherry always told me to just say something but..." A weak laugh escaped you. "...I guess I was a coward."
Leon looked at you then.
Really looked at you and whatever expression crossed his face hurt worse than anything Gideon had done.
Because he looked broken.
Completely shattered.
"If this is..." Your eyes slipped closed for a moment before forcing themselves back open. "...the last time I see you..."
You smiled weakly.
"You're everything to me."
Leon gripped your hand so tightly you almost felt it.
Almost.
Your vision dimmed around the edges.
Leon was talking again.
You couldn't understand him anymore.
His voice faded beneath the ringing in your ears.
You wanted to hear him. Wanted to know what he was saying.
But darkness rolled over you before you could.
And just like every other dream—
everything disappeared.
-
Time passed.
Or maybe it didn't.
You weren't sure.
When consciousness finally found you again, something immediately felt wrong.
Soft.
Your head rested against something soft.
Not chains. Not cold metal. Not hanging restraints.
A bed.
You frowned.
Slowly, carefully, your eyes opened.
Color.
The room had color.
Sunlight spilled through a nearby window.
Sunlight?
You stared at it.
You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen sunlight.
Your fingers twitched. Then your toes.
Then pain followed.
Dull aches.
Sharp stings.
The burning pull in your wrists.
You almost laughed.
Pain.
Actual pain.
You felt human again.
Something heavy rested against your chest.
Slowly, with more effort than it should've taken, you lowered your gaze.
And stopped.
Leon.
He sat slumped forward in a chair beside your bed, head resting against folded arms.
Asleep.
For the first time in what felt like forever he looked peaceful.
Healthier.
Alive.
Your chest tightened.
Maybe you'd died. Maybe this was heaven.
A small sound escaped you.
Barely a gasp.
But it was enough.
Movement by the doorway caught your eye.
You looked up slowly.
Sherry stood frozen hands over her mouth.
Beside her stood an unfamiliar blonde woman.
Both stared at you.
Sherry's eyes widened.
"Oh my God."
Leon shot upright instantly.
Years of training kicking in before consciousness even fully caught up.
His eyes scanned the room.
The corners. The door. The windows.
Searching for danger.
Then he looked at you.
And completely fell apart.
The change happened instantly.
No walls. No mask.
Nothing.
He crossed the distance before you could even process it.
His arms wrapped around you carefully — so carefully — like he was terrified you'd disappear if he held too tight.
Pain shot through your body.
Sharp and burning but you welcomed it.
Because you could feel it.
Because he was real.
"You’re okay." His voice broke against your shoulder.
Not even words for you.
Words for himself.
Proof.
Proof that you were here.
Proof he hadn't lost you.
You lifted your hand weakly.
The movement barely counted.
But your fingers brushed against his back.
And that was enough.
Leon shuddered.
Then completely came apart.
You felt him trembling.
Felt years of restraint and fear finally crack apart all at once.
Somewhere nearby, Sherry was calling for a doctor.
ada inviting leon and male!reader to hang out and get high, only ada doesn’t show up and it’s only the two of them who don’t really get along but only because they are crushing so hard on each other
the highest in the room,
and you still don't see eye to eye
Male!reader, stoner!leon; sort of university!au, heavy miscommunication, ada wong is a match maker, smoking/tw, drug/tw
If there was one thing you would warn people about when it came to Ada Wong, it was that everything came with a catch.
Everything.
No matter what she asked, there was always some ulterior motive tucked beneath it. Something hidden beneath that smile of hers that you wouldn't notice until it was already too late.
From convincing you to play house for some bizarre excuse to somehow draining nearly every recent paycheck you'd gotten, Ada had a talent for scheming that always left you exactly where she wanted you.
At her mercy.
You really shouldn't trust her with your life.
And yet somehow, you'd still call her your closest friend.
Because despite all of that—
Ada had never let you down.
Not once.
She took her friendships seriously, and there was one fact in particular that proved it.
Ada Wong did not share her stash.
With anyone.
You were the exception.
She'd left plenty of people hanging before, but with you there always seemed to be a soft spot somewhere beneath all the tricks and mind games.
Almost.
She still messed with you whenever she got the chance, but honestly? That was just Ada.
You wouldn't change it.
Besides, who were you to turn down free weed?
You didn't indulge often, but whenever the urge hit, Ada was usually the first person either calling you—
or vice versa.
Over time, you'd ended up tangled in her weird little network of people too.
You'd met Jill, Carlos, Chris — good people.
Mostly.
Because not every tree bore good fruit.
And Leon Kennedy was a rotten apple.
Okay.
Maybe rotten was harsh.
You wouldn't call him a bad guy.
Actually, you'd say the opposite.
Which somehow made him even more annoying.
You just couldn't stand him.
He was too... solid.
Not that everyone needed to walk around with their entire personality hanging out in the open, but Leon always felt impossible to read.
Like there was a wall around him.
Not a mean wall exactly.
Just—
a wall.
You'd say something and he'd stare for half a second too long before answering.
Sometimes he'd look away like he'd gotten caught doing something.
Sometimes he'd go weirdly quiet.
It felt awkward.
And somehow you always ended up feeling awkward too.
You'd originally thought the two of you would get along.
Ada had seemed almost suspiciously excited when she introduced you.
Then you met him.
You remembered holding out your hand.
Remembered those ridiculously blue eyes looking at it.
Then at you. Then back at your hand.
Like the man had forgotten how human interaction worked.
You knew right then things were doomed.
Still...
Leon Kennedy was a stupidly attractive man.
You hated that fact.
Absolutely despised it.
Whenever he'd wander through during your smoke sessions with Ada, he always looked unfairly put together in a way that felt almost personal.
Black tank tops fitted just right to show off his arms.
Turtlenecks that should've been illegal.
Even stopping by just in camo shorts after he'd come back from a run looking slightly flushed and annoyingly good.
Meanwhile there you were trying not to stare.
Not that you ever spoke much.
Ada usually carried the conversations.
But you noticed things.
Unfortunately.
You noticed how the redness around his eyes somehow made the blue stand out even more.
How he'd finally loosen up once he relaxed, sinking into one of Ada's bean bags with a quiet laugh.
How his shoulders would drop.
How his expression softened.
How his muscles hardened.
God.
Being high around Leon Kennedy felt like accidentally signing up for an anatomy course.
And you hated yourself for it.
Ada had tried talking to you about it before.
Tried getting the two of you to fix whatever weird thing existed between you.
Especially since you were crushing so hard.
The problem was—
you are stubborn.
You weren't apologizing for something you didn't even do.
Still...
it would've been nice if things were different.
Your phone buzzed late that night.
Ada.
Free?
Simple. Short. No explanation.
Typical.
You really shouldn't go out.
You had an exam tomorrow morning and you'd been studying for hours.
But your brain felt like mush already, and a little break sounded nice.
You texted back asking where and if you needed to bring anything.
A few moments later:
Nope. Got everything already. Come as you are.
You frowned at the screen.
Whatever that meant.
Knowing Ada, asking for clarification would somehow leave you with more questions than answers.
So you gave up.
You slipped on shoes over your pajamas and headed out.
The walk wasn't far.
Ada's place sat above her grandmother's bar near campus.
Well—
"place" was generous.
The downstairs belonged to the bar itself while Ada had somehow negotiated ownership of the upstairs studio space.
Her grandmother tells you the truth on the lost bet, while Ada tells her parents it was gift.
Ada used it mostly for painting.
And watching Ada paint while high felt like witnessing someone create the Mona Lisa in real time.
When you arrived, the place was quiet.
A few people sat around nursing drinks while soft conversation drifted through the room.
Her grandmother spotted you first and smiled.
"Ada's upstairs, sweetheart."
You thanked her and headed toward the stairs.
"Call if you need help with anything!" you said.
She laughed and waved you off.
When you reached the studio—
Ada wasn't there.
Fresh paint still sat wet on a nearby palette.
And on the table:
Three joints. One backwood. A packed bong.
You stared.
"...All for me?"
Silence.
You glanced around.
She'd clearly been here.
So where the hell—
Your phone buzzed.
Had to handle something. brb. Help yourself
You narrowed your eyes.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Still—
Ada always told you to treat the place like your own.
So you did.
You grabbed one of the joints — absolutely not her sacred backwood — and lit it.
A slow inhale.
A slow exhale.
Then immediately cracking the window before accidentally hotboxing the room while the bar downstairs was still open.
The plan had only been a few hits.
That was the plan.
Then you realized Ada had packed indica.
And suddenly your body felt like melted butter.
You wandered around the room in a haze.
Jazz played softly from an old radio while you looked over the paintings lining the walls.
You spotted yourself in several.
Ada's realism was ridiculous.
If you hadn't actually posed for them, you'd think they were photographs.
Most were family.
Friends.
People you knew.
Then your eyes landed on one that made you stop.
Leon.
You frowned.
You didn't remember this one.
He’s wearing that stupid turtleneck.
The one you hated.
Because you absolutely did not hate how it looked on him.
He leaned against the couch, profile turned slightly—
except something felt different.
The others all faced forward.
This one didn't.
Then you noticed why.
You were in it too.
Leon wasn't looking at the viewer.
He was looking at you.
Like he'd been watching you leave.
And somehow—
Ada had painted him looking almost...
regretful.
Maybe this stuff had hit harder than you thought.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Finally.
Without turning, you spoke.
"There's something about him I can't figure out."
You crossed your arms.
"He acts like he doesn't care but..." You frowned at the painting. "I dunno. You painted something here."
Silence.
You kept talking.
"It's like he cares and just doesn't know what to do with it."
You squinted harder.
"Gosh, why are attractive people always so full of sh—"
You turned.
And immediately froze.
Because that was definitely not Ada.
That was absolutely, unmistakably, horribly—
Leon.
He stood there holding a case of beer and a box of sodas.
And worst of all—
he looked amused.
Just a little.
Just enough to make you want to die.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked.
You stared.
Then stared harder.
"...No."
You cleared your throat.
"I was talking to... myself."
Smooth.
Real smooth. You continue, trying to save safe.
"I thought you were..."
"Ada?"
You nodded weakly.
"She's out for a while."
Leon moved toward the mini-fridge and started putting drinks away.
Then glanced over.
"...She invited you?"
You frowned immediately.
"Yeah?" you said. "I'm not just showing up uninvited."
The irritation slipped out before you could stop it.
Leon looked over briefly.
Then back to the fridge.
"...Right."
Just that.
Just one word.
Dick.
"Were you invited?" you ask, immediately hating how childish it sounds.
You throw it out anyway.
"She didn't mention you at all."
Leon keeps unloading drinks like he lives here.
Calm.
Casual.
It grinds your gears.
"Yeah." He shrugs. "She asked me to bring stuff."
Matter-of-fact.
Like it should've been obvious.
You stare at the back of his head and seriously consider throwing yourself out the nearest window.
"Right," you say through gritted teeth.
You should leave.
Your mood had already been questionable, and now you were supposed to sit here and smoke with Leon Kennedy of all people?
Absolutely not.
You take one step toward the door.
Your phone vibrates.
Ada.
Don't run now. Fix it or I tell Wesker about the night at the pier.
How can she keep doing that?
You stop dead.
Your eyes widen.
Wait.
No.
Absolutely not.
You stare at your screen in betrayal.
Of all the times.
Of all the things.
You slowly lower the phone and groan loudly into your hands.
Leon pops open a beer.
"...She finally texted you about me?"
You look up.
"...Something like that."
If this was happening, then you refused to experience it sober.
You marched over to the couch, grabbed the bong with determination that bordered on concerning, and inhaled.
Deep.
Way too deep.
Immediately your lungs declared war.
You doubled over coughing violently.
"Jesus—"
Leon was suddenly beside you.
A soda appeared in your hand.
At some point he'd already opened it.
You took it without thinking and chugged half the can between coughs.
Leon stared.
Then—
a laugh slipped out.
Not a laugh.
Not really.
A tiny stupid little giggle.
"Oh my God," he said between snickers. "That looked painful."
You narrowed your eyes.
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
The response came too quickly.
Both of you stared.
Leon stared harder.
"...I mean—"
He blinked.
"...pass me that."
You blinked at.
He stared down at the bong.
Absolutely refusing eye contact.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Leon grabbed the bong and took a controlled hit.
Completely calm.
Completely smooth.
Showing off.
Absolutely showing off.
You watched suspiciously.
Then waited.
And waited.
About thirty seconds later Leon melted sideways into the couch.
"...Oh."
Leon looked over.
His eyes were bloodshot already.
Gone.
Completely gone.
You snorted.
"Lightweight."
Leon squinted at you.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
"I'm choosing not to defend myself."
"You have nothing to defend."
He looked offended.
Actually offended.
Then he crossed his arms and sank further into the cushions.
"...Rude."
Silence settled for a while.
Jazz had turned into soft classical music somewhere in the background.
You sipped your drink.
Leon looked oddly focused on the ceiling.
Then—
"Who were you talking about earlier?"
You turned.
"What?"
"The painting."
Leon lazily raised a hand toward the wall before gravity apparently won and his arm dropped back down.
"You sounded really mad."
You stared.
Then leaned slightly closer.
This weed is really strong stuff.
"...About some guy."
Your stomach dropped.
"Who was it?"
You swallowed.
Drank more soda.
Thought very carefully.
Then stopped.
Wait.
Why were you panicking?
"...Why do you care?"
You leaned back with a smug little smile.
Got him.
Absolutely got him.
Leon looked at you.
Then blinked slowly.
Then said:
"Because I like you."
Silence.
Complete silence.
The radio kept playing.
Someone downstairs was laughing.
Your brain left your body.
"...Excuse me?"
Leon frowned.
Like you were the weird one here.
"I don't like competition."
No.
No no no.
Not that part.
You sat upright so fast the couch squeaked.
"No, rewind!"
Leon blinked.
Then realization hit him.
"Oh."
His eyes widened slightly.
"...Oh."
Oh?
"Oh?!"
"What the hell does that mean?!" You ask in a fury.
Leon sat up too now.
Suddenly serious.
Like truly serious.
"I like you."
You stared.
He stared.
Then:
"But you hate me."
You felt personally attacked.
"I hate you?" you repeated. "You're the one who barely talks to me!"
Leon looked genuinely confused.
"I do talk to you."
"No you don't!"
"I try!"
"You stare at me and leave!"
"You make me nervous!"
...
Silence.
Total silence.
You stared at him.
Leon stared back.
Then immediately looked away.
"...Oh my God."
Your head fell backward against the couch.
"Oh my God."
All this time.
All this resentment.
All this one-sided irritation.
Because Leon Kennedy—
Leon Kennedy had a crush and apparently forgot how to function.
Like a little boy in grade school.
Beside you Leon shifted awkwardly.
"So..." he started carefully.
You looked over.
He wasn't looking at you.
"...Was it Carlos?"
You sat up.
"What?"
"The painting thing."
He looked nervous now.
Actually nervous.
"Was it Carlos or—"
Leon didn't get to finish.
You grabbed his shirt and kissed him.
Very gracefully.
Definitely not nearly headbutting him first.
Not at all.
Leon froze.
For exactly two seconds.
Then he kissed you back.
Warm.
Clumsy.
Smiling against your mouth halfway through because apparently the idiot was happy.
Your hand moved into his hair.
His found your shoulder.
Everything felt fuzzy and warm and stupid in the best way possible.
You could've stayed there forever.
Then—
“Ahem.”
You both jerked apart.
Ada stood in the doorway.
Backwood resting against her lips.
Looking entirely too pleased with herself.
She stared.
Then slowly grinned.
"I leave for twenty minutes."
Neither of you spoke.
"I swear you two were exhausting."
She walked past casually and set up her easel.
"Anyway," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "go do your happily-ever-after stuff somewhere else."
She glanced back toward you both.
Then at Leon.
Then at you.
"...Actually wait."
She pointed.
"Stay exactly like that."
You frowned.
"Why?"
Ada smiled.
The kind of smile that meant trouble.
"Oh, this is absolutely becoming my best painting."
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