Di! Leon X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Family Matters

DI! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Death Island Spoilers!

Summary– The kids are exposed to the evils of the world. Word count: 3746 D/n– Daughter's name S/n– Son's name Sequels: Aftermath / Out Together

You woke to the sound of quiet sniffling. Someone was shaking you, almost begging you to wake up. Your eyes opened, your vision fuzzy and your head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Mommy, wake up,” your daughter cried as she shook you. “Please, wake up.”

You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes. Taking in your surroundings, you knew you were far from Los Angeles. Instead, you were surrounded by concrete walls and steel bars. This wasn’t the Walk of Fame, it was a prison.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” your daughter said, throwing herself in your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” said her twin brother confidently. “Dad’ll save us.” His pacing betrayed his confidence, not that his sister could tell with her face hidden in your shoulder. “Besides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris are here, too.”

“They are?” you asked. The fog in your head was starting to lift. “Chris? Claire?”

“We’re here,” Chris called. But he sounded weak, wounded. 

“Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Alcatraz,” said Claire. If Chris sounded terrible, she sounded worse. Whatever was going on, you knew it was something the kids shouldn’t be a part of. “Jill’s here, too.” Somewhere." It only took a second for you to connect the dots. If they were all here, then surely Leon would be as well. 

You knew he had been on assignment in San Francisco so logically he couldn’t be too far away. It was supposed to be simple– a job he could complete in a day or so and then he would meet you and the kids in Los Angeles. How it turned into this…

We’re bait, you thought. It was a virtual guarantee. But how? All of your files had been secured and locked up; Leon had made sure of it. So how did you end up here? Why were you here?

D/n trembled in your arms and S/n was becoming more restless. Carefully, you lifted D/n with one arm and pushed yourself to your feet with the other. Reaching out to touch the bars, you gave them a firm shake. They didn’t budge.

“I gotta set you down, baby,” you said to D/n. She nodded hesitantly, going to her brother once she was out of your arms. She and S/n went to sit on the cot, holding each other’s hands. S/n’s leg bounced nervously.

You continued to examine the bars, looking for any kind of weakness. “So, what brought all of you to Alcatraz?” Might as well get an idea of what you were about to face if you were going to be stuck here.

“There were outbreaks in the city,” Chris said, his breathing heavy. “Found a connection to Alcatraz…”

That’s certainly one way to get him and Jill here, you thought. But what about Leon? How did his assignment connect to all of this?

“You kids okay?” Claire asked, taking a sharp breath.

“Okay,” S/n answered softly. 

You abandoned the bars and went to kneel in front of them. D/n’s face was blotchy with tears and she was wiping her nose with her sleeve. Soft hiccups rocked her little body. S/n, on the other hand, was still bouncing his leg and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. You took their hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“We’ll be okay,” you assured them. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, understand?” You looked each of them in the eye. “No one will touch you while I’m here.” D/n nodded and you reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Mom,” S/n said, but his attention wasn’t on you. It was on someone standing outside of the cell. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a shiny pink jumpsuit. You knew exactly who she was and suddenly it all made sense.

Like a switch had flipped, your attitude went from soft and caring to tough and protective. You stood and put yourself between her and the twins. “What do you want?” Your voice was sharp and stern.

“Your husband will pay for what he did to my father,” Maria replied.

“Yeah, I get that.” You took a step closer. “But they have no part in it. You want to use someone, use me. This isn’t their fight.”

“It became their fight when he murdered my father. They deserve to know what kind of monster theirs is.”

S/n jumped up from the cot and rushed against the bars, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. “Our Dad’s a hero!” he yelled. “You're the monster!” Maria hit the bars, scaring S/n away from them. But he only backed away enough to stand next to you and stared Maria down as she marched down the cell block.

D/n was crying again. S/n turned to her. “Dad’s gonna be here,” he assured her. “He’s gonna save us– just like he saved the girl in Spain!” He froze like a deer in headlights and glanced over at you.

“S/n Marvin Kennedy,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been in your father’s office again, haven’t you?”

“No.” An obvious lie. There was no other way he would know about Spain and Leon would never talk about past missions with his kids. He never even really told him what his job was.

“We’re having a talk about that later.” He bowed his head and went to sit beside his sister again. “And I’m reminding Dad to change those locks, too.” S/n seemed to shrink more into himself. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Dad… maybe… kinda taught me to pick locks.”

“Then get us out of here!” D/n yelled at him.

“I don’t have anything to use!”

Leon would certainly get a scolding for that. A sharp pain shot in your neck. A moment later your body felt weak and you leaned against the wall for support. In an instant, breathing began to get harder, too.

“Mommy?” D/n said through her sniffles.

“Y/n?” came Claire’s voice. Whatever had infected Claire and Chris had infected you, too. But how? Your mind raced. You were never bitten.

You groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. With what strength you could muster, you crawled back to the bars to put distance between you and the kids. D/n moved to go to you but S/n held her back. He knew something was wrong. He knew there was a reason you were moving away from them. At eight years old, you hated how perceptive he was.

Lights shone at the other end of the prison block. Footsteps came closer, echoing off the walls. You gripped the bars, trying to ready yourself to face Maria and whoever else she was working with.

“Leon?” Claire muttered softly.

The kids gasped and ran to the cell door. “Daddy!”

“Y/n? Kids?” Leon rushed to your cell, quickly holstering his gun. The kids reached their hands through the bars, trying to hug him as best as they could. He looked them over for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” S/n told him. “But Mom…”

The pain was getting worse. Your breaths had turned into short gasps. The twins let go of him and he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed. 

“Long time, no see, sweetheart,” he replied, his blue eyes full of worry. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. We were going to the Walk of Fame and…” Then you gestured to the cell. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been… more careful.” Maybe you were starting to get rusty. Years ago you would’ve seen the ambush from a mile away.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Get us out of here!” another man’s voice cried, catching Leon’s attention. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Leon muttered as he craned his neck to see who spoke. There was no way in hell he was leaving his family’s side right now. “Antonio Taylor… I’ll deal with you later.”

The overhead lights turned on and the kids scrambled to your side. The light stung your eyes and a headache started to form at your temple. Leon shot up, pulling his gun from its holster and scanning the cell block. There at the second-story railing stood Maria and another man, his cane tapping rhythmically on the metal floor.

This new man introduced himself as Dylan Blake. “I bet you’re wondering how people are getting infected without being bit,” he said, proudly going on to describe his bio-drones: insects that could infect whomever Blake pleased. Your heart sank at this realization. It was only a matter of time before you turned. 

You tuned out whatever Blake continued to say, your attention on the kids. D/n was still shaking like a leaf against you, but her tears had stopped. S/n was on his knees in front of you. The pain was starting to become unbearable, and knowing what would happen if you turned… 

“There’s a reason I left you and Leon alone, Jill,” Blake continued. “You want to talk about justice? You should be pointing your guns at Claire and Y/n.” Leon spared a glance at you. You were pale and shivering and you were only getting worse. “They’ll turn soon enough and when they do, they’ll rip apart the doctor and those kids.”

“The kids have no part in this!” Leon snapped.

“They became part of it when you began to work for liars, people who cover up the truth. The ones continuously sending you into battle rather than staying home with your family.” Leon stiffened. You knew he felt guilty about being away from home so much. “Which will it be? Your wife or your kids? Better make your choice quick before she devours them.”

“Leon,” you called softly. With his gun still trained on Blake, he looked back at you. You nodded at him, but he shook his head. Shooting you wasn’t an option for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot his children– he’d rather die than do that.

Soon enough Blake and Maria were gone and Leon was back by your side, D/n and S/n clinging to the arm he slid between the bars. “Babies,” he said, “I need you to get in that back corner. Can you do that for me?” They nodded and did as he said. His attention turned to you and he lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “Y/n, I’m not shooting you. The twins need you and I will not let them witness something like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “Leon, you have to.”

“No.” His voice was stern. “It’s not gonna happen. We’ll figure it out.”

You lifted your hand to gently trace the curve of his jaw, his stubble lightly scratching your skin. “I love you, Leon.” He held your hand against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Daddy,” D/n called. “What’s gonna happen to Mommy?”

“Mommy’s going to be just fine,” he told her firmly. Leon felt like the worst father in the world. The last thing he had ever wanted was for his kids to be dragged into his work. He was sure that with Y/n at home, they’d be perfectly fine. He thought he’d taken every step necessary to keep his family safe. What had gone so wrong that they ended up here?

“Real father of the year,” he muttered under his breath.

“This… isn’t your… fault.” You curled in on yourself as pain shot through your body. You had the cell bars in a death grip as you attempted to maintain yourself. Something was brewing in your chest, something violent and bloody. You met Leon’s eyes, your tears finally falling. “Please…”

Just as he was about to reply, someone came running into the cell block. It was Rebecca with a hard-shelled case in her arms. “What’s that?” Leon asked, but he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it to believe it.

“A vaccine,” Rebecca replied, popping the case open and handing him a syringe.

Leon couldn’t move fast enough. He uncapped the syringe and brushed your hair aside. “This might hurt, baby.” There was a sting in your neck as he injected the vaccine. Relief washed over you like a cool blanket and finally, you were able to catch your breath. As you composed yourself, Leon got to work on unlocking the door.

The door slid open and Leon enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulled away and the two of you were nearly thrown over as the twins barreled into you. Leon held all three of you tight against his chest.

“I told you Dad would save us,” S/n said, his voice muffled against Leon’s shirt. Leon kissed the tops of their heads and pulled away just enough to look at all of you.

Whatever was in that vaccine worked wonders and by the time you were back on your feet, you felt good as new. “What now?” You couldn’t just take the kids and leave. There was no telling what was lurking in the halls. Taking them with Leon was risky– Blake wouldn’t give up easily. There was no doubt in your mind that there’d be a shootout at some point.

Leon kissed you again and handed you a spare gun. It wasn’t safe here with the bio-drones and he wasn’t about to let you go out and try to escape the island with two eight-year-olds. His only option was to try to keep you all in his sight and out of harm’s way. “Stay with me.” He turned to the twins. “You two,” S/n stood a bit straighter, “do exactly as I or your mother say. Understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

The four of you made your way to the armory. Leon took the lead with the twins behind him and you taking up the rear. Once you made it to the armory, Leon stopped and hugged the kids again. “I love you,” he said to them, “listen to Mom.”

“Where are you going?” D/n asked, gripping his shirt.

“I’m gonna stop the bad guys,” he replied. “Be good.” He stood and pecked your lips. “Get to the control room, you’ll be safe there.”

~~

The three of you reached the control room. The openness of the room didn’t bring you much comfort– there wasn’t any real place to hide the kids. The best you could do was keep them away from the windows.

You made sure the door was secure and turned to the kids, tucking your gun into your waistband as you kneeled in front of them. “How are you two doing?” The answer was obvious, but you wanted to hear them talk to you. You needed them to focus as best as they could and make sure that they understood how important their safety was.

“Aren’t you scared?” S/n asked. 

“I am,” you answered honestly. “And it’s okay to be.”

“So you and Daddy were doing this stuff when you met?” asked D/n in a small voice. She had calmed down but maintained a nearly bone-crushing grip on her brother’s hand. You knew that she had always wanted to picture a romantic meeting between you and Leon like the other girls’ parents at school, but the reality was not nearly as sweet.

“Yeah, sweetie–”

A monstrous roar cut you off and the twins screamed. You grabbed your gun and spun around to the window. A massive, mutated monster took up the expanse of the window, but it wasn’t focused on you. Still, you ushered the kids back into the wall farthest away and kept your gun trained on it.

A number of loud pops sounded from outside. Gunshots. The others must be down there. With the beast’s attention away from the window, you focused your attention on the door. Your grip on your gun tightened. The kids jumped and gasped behind you with each new explosion. Shielding them from watching those through the window would be near impossible.

Something smashed against the window, but the glass held strong. Barrels and boxes flew throughout the expanse of the armory. The ground shook beneath you and the groans of crashing metal echoed in your ears.

The door burst open, scaring the kids and startling you. It was Claire and Rebecca.

“What is that thing!?” D/n yelled.

The two stopped short, unsure of how to answer her. Claire recovered first. “That’s the bad guy.”

“That’s the bad guy!?” S/n repeated. He tugged on your shirt. “You have to go help Dad!”

“I need to keep you two safe.” As much as you wanted to go help, you and Leon had talked long ago about situations like this. Situations you had hoped and prayed would never come to pass and a discussion that led to your retiring from the D.S.O.

Only one of you would actively fight. The other would stay with the kids no matter what. That way if something happened to the other, the twins would still have at least one parent.

“What are you doing?” D/n asked as Claire and Rebecca rushed to the main computer.

“We,” Rebecca started as her hands moved across the keys, “are gonna stop a bunch of bugs.”

~~

As the gunshots rang and rockets exploded, Leon kept watch on the windows of the control room. Leading the creature, formerly Dylan Blake, away from those windows was his top priority (aside from killing it, of course).

At least with Maria dead, he didn’t have to worry about someone else going after you and the twins. And even if she were still alive, you’d give her hell for doing this to your family.

“Just a heads up,” Chris said as they put together a massive rocket launcher, “the missus is gonna have a word with you about teaching S/n to pick locks.” He grunted as they slid the two pieces of the weapon together.

Leon grinned. He knew that would come back to bite him one day. Hell, he was looking forward to your scolding. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t.” He lifted the front of the launcher up on his shoulder while Chris steadied it from behind. “A little lower.” Chris kneeled down a bit more, letting Leon get a higher angle.

The creature had jumped into the water after Jill and was now trying to make for open waters. Leon aimed for the gate's pulley system. With only one shot, he needed to make this count.

Another second passed as he steadied the launcher and pulled the trigger.

The rocket flew from the barrel, jolting him and Chris as it flew to the gate. The rocket exploded on impact, and the gate dropped. It crashed into the water and a moment later another explosion erupted. Blood stained the water and pieces of Blake's mutated carcass rained down.

Leon eyed the water nervously, searching for any movement that could indicate that somehow the bastard survived. When nothing aside from a massive corpse floated to the surface, he sighed in relief.

He barely had a moment to relax before he was knocked over. It wasn't often that his kids caught him off guard, but here they were, piled on top of him and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Well, if he were to die, being smothered by his childrens' affection didn’t seem like such a bad option to him.

Once he’d regained his bearings, he hugged them equally as tight, enough to make them groan and try to push away from him (which in turn made him squeeze just a bit harder). He turned his head to see you approaching, a soft smile on your face. “Care to join in on this?”

“He’s crushing us!” S/n squealed.

“Am not,” Leon huffed.

“Are too!”

He let the twins go and sat up. D/n stayed in his lap and S/n sat beside him. At that moment, there was no denying that S/n was his son. He was almost a carbon copy of his father. The scene almost made you forget about everything that had just happened.

You could still feel a faint throbbing where Blake’s drone had stung you, an eerie reminder of what could have been if Rebecca hadn’t shown up when she did.

“Can we go home now?” D/n asked.

~~

While waiting for the evacuation helicopters, the twins had taken to bombarding Claire and Rebecca with questions, giving you a brief moment alone with your husband.

“You know we’re not sleeping alone for a good while.” 

“I know.” He watched as S/n turned his attention to Chris, climbing up on the man’s shoulders. Where other parents might dread the thought of having their bed invaded, Leon welcomed it. He’d rather have them running to him in the dead of night than deal with nightmares on their own.

“We should’ve just stayed in D.C.,” you mumbled, leaning against Leon as he wrapped an arm around you. Maybe if you and the kids had stayed home they would have been spared the terror of being kidnapped and threatened.

Leon shook his head. “Maria would’ve found a way.” Of that, he was certain. If there was anyway to guarantee his suffering, targeting his family was a sure way to do it. “We’ll take a real vacation after this.”

“D/n has been begging to go to Disney.” You sighed. “We can’t hide this stuff from them anymore.” That was perhaps the worst of it. You and Leon had gone to great lengths to shield them from the reality of Leon’s work.

The two of you watched the twins. Chris was still carrying S/n on his shoulders and at some point D/n had managed to steal Claire’s red jacket. Soon, they came running back, wedging themselves between you.

D/n pointed toward the horizon. “Are those the helicopters?”

“They sure are,” Leon replied as he smoothed her hair.

S/n tugged on Leon’s shirt and flashed his best set of puppy eyes. “Can I have the window seat?”

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?"