Big, Scary Dog Privilege - Leon Kennedy x Goth!Reader
Summary: You have a goth aesthetic. You are dark. Spooky. The epitome of 'don't fuck with me'. But for some reason, men always try and hit on you anyway. Luckily enough for you, your boyfriend is basically the best guard dog you could ask for.
Just a short little drabble while I work on some slightly longer imagines.
Metal chains clicked against studded leather. Black lipstick accented fluffy, large false lashes. A sharp cat-eye wing brought attention to your eyes, which lead people to see the permanent frown on your face. Truly, you were the epitome of 'don't fuck with me.'
Yet for some reason, men saw that look, and decided to fuck with you anyway.
The current asshole in front of you was short, with a potbelly and a squished face that reminded you of a pug. He was leaning up against the same wall as you, trying to act coy. The motion of it made you feel nauseous.
"You come here often, beautiful?"
Ew. You rolled your eyes, retorting back, "Clearly too often, apparently."
He laughed. A gross, wheezing noise, "How about we head back to my place?"
"I think I'm good. Already got my fill of gross assholes today, thanks."
His face turned sour, red with anger.
"Stupid bitch. Come on. I'll show you a good time, promise."
A hand grabbed your wrist. It was greasy and all too warm.
A presence appeared behind you, and you couldn't help but smile.
"This guy bothering you, Dove?"
Leon's voice was deep and even. But you could sense the underlying rage. He was ready to destroy this man if need be.
The hand on your wrist disappeared like magic, and you two were suddenly alone once more.
You sighed, "I hate it when guys do that."
A kiss landed itself on your cheek. Pulling back, you could see a touch of your dark contour had rubbed off onto the side of his lips. Your hand wiped it away, before kissing him again.
You continued, "You're like scary dog privilege. I could have a big ass Doberman with me and it wouldn't be as effective as you."
He laughed, taking your hand in his, "I don't mind being your big scary Doberman, then."
Quiet; The Absence of Words - Leon Kennedy x quiet!DSOAgent!Reader
Summary: You are assigned as Leon's new rookie. It's been 6 months since that day, and you have never spoken a word to him. It's just not in your nature. But what happens when he collapses in front of you during the events of RE9? What happens after that?
Main Chapters
Part 1 - Oh, Fuck!
Part 2 - The Five Times vs. 1
Part 3 - Smiley Faces and Sandwiches
Part 4 - Call the Repairman!
Part 5 - It's A Secret
Part 6 - Grandpa, Grandma, and Chocolate Chip Pancakes
Part 7 - Kindness
Part 8 - Spiral
Part 9 - Chocolate Chip Pancakes, the Reprise
Part 10 - Pulling Punches
Part 11 - Debrief
Part 12 - Silent Tensions
Part 13 - Freefall
Part 14 - Of Lab Rats and Poison
Part 15 - Violet Infections
Part 16 - From Bad to Worse
Part 17 - Don't Let Up
Part 18 - Nothing More
Part 19 - These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends
synopsis: periods suckkkk. but he's there to make it better<3
warnings: period pain, hurt comfort, physical touch, soft domestic fluff, established relationship vibes, clark being ridiculously attentive and worried, brief mention of pain medication.
wc: 1.3k
Your cramps had been awful all day. The kind that settled deep in your stomach and wrapped around your lower back like a vice.
You had tried sleeping. You had tried distracting yourself. You had even tried convincing yourself it wasn't that bad.
It was.
By the time evening rolled around, you were curled into a miserable little ball on the couch, blanket wrapped around your waist and a pained expression permanently stuck on your face.
Clark noticed immediately.
But Clark noticed everything when it came to you.
The moment he stepped through the apartment door, his brow furrowed.
"Sweetheart?"
You groaned in response.
His face softened.
"Oh."
Within seconds he was kneeling beside the couch.
"Period?"
You nodded.
Another cramp hit and you squeezed your eyes shut.
Clark looked genuinely distressed. Not because periods scared him. Not because he thought they were gross but because he simply hated seeing you hurt.
Even if it was something completely normal.
"What can I do?" he asked immediately.
You shrugged.
Clark was already moving.
"Okay. Painkillers."
Before you could respond, he was in the kitchen. A second later he returned with water and medication.
You obediently took them.
"There."
He brushed your hair back.
"That should help soon."
It didn't. Not much, anyway.
Half an hour later you were still curled up and miserable.
Clark frowned.
"Okay."
His hands landed on his hips.
"New plan."
A heating pad appeared. Then another blanket...then fuzzy socks.
You weren't entirely sure where he'd gotten them from.
Clark carefully tucked the heating pad against your stomach.
"Better?"
"A little."
The answer clearly wasn't good enough.
He sat beside you, thinking. Then his eyes brightened.
"What about a bath?"
You groaned.
"No."
"I can make it warm."
"No."
"I'll put those bath salts you like in there."
"No..."
That one came out softer and more helpless.
"You won't even have to get up. I'll carryβ"
"Clark."
He stopped talking.
You peeked up at him.
"No bath."
"Right."
It goes silent for a moment and gives you a look...that little look he gives you.
"What about food?"
"No."
"Tea?"
"No."
"Chocolate?"
"No."
"Massage?"
You hesitated. And Clark immediately perked up.
"Massage."
You sighed.
"Yes..."
His hands moved to your lower back. He was so gentle with you...
But it was strong enough to ease the tension without hurting.
For a few minutes, it actually helped. Until another cramp twisted through your abdomen.
You whimpered.
Clark's entire face fell.
"Oh, honey."
The concern in his voice almost made you cry.
He looked completely helpless. As if he would gladly fight an alien invasion but couldn't figure out how to fix this.
His hands rubbed your back.
"Tell me what you need."
You shook your head.
"I don't know."
"There's got to be something."
You didn't answer. Clark continued listing possibilities anyway.
Different medicine., more blankets, heating pads, hot drinks, takeout, another massage.
Anything.
He'd do all of it if it meant you felt better.
Eventually he stopped talking. Because he noticed something.
Every time he got up, you looked disappointed. Every time he moved away, you curled tighter into yourself.
And every time he sat back down beside you, you relaxed.
Clark blinked.
Then blinked again.
"Oh."
You looked at him.
"What?"
A small smile appeared on his face.
"You don't want any of that stuff."
"I didn't say that-"
β "You want me."
Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks.
Clark's smile softened. The kind that always made your heart melt.
"Come here."
Before you could protest, he carefully gathered you into his arms.
One arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist. Pulling you against his chest.
Instantly, some of the tension left your body.
A sigh escaped before you could stop it.
Clark chuckled quietly.
"There it is."
You buried your face in his shirt.
Neither of you spoke for a moment. The apartment was quiet.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears.
His hand slowly stroked through your hair.
"You should've told me."
"I didn't know how."
"You could've just said you wanted cuddles."
You huffed.
Clark laughed softly.
Then pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
"All that running around."
"You were being very helpful."
"I know."
"You looked like you were preparing for a medical emergency."
"I basically was."
You could hear the grin in his voice.
Another cramp hit and you tensed.
Immediately, Clark's arms tightened around you.
Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you he was there.
You melted against him as his chin rested on top of your head.
"I've got you."
The words were simple. But somehow, they made everything feel easier.
The pain didn't disappear. The cramps didn't magically stop. But wrapped safely in Clark's arms, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his warmth surrounding you, it didn't seem nearly as overwhelming.
Clark had been holding you for nearly twenty minutes. One arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. The other resting across your waist beneath the blanket.
The apartment had gone quiet, save for the television neither of you were actually watching.
To anyone else, you probably looked comfortable.
Relaxed...
Half asleep, even.
But Clark knew better.
He could feel it. The way your fingers kept tightening around his sleeve, the slight twitch every few minutes, the way you were practically clinging to his arm like it was the only thing keeping you together.
Another cramp rolled through you. Your grip tightened instinctively.
Clark's eyes flickered downward.
"Still hurting?"
You sighed.
"A little."
The answer was automatic and not remotely convincing.
Clark raised an eyebrow.
"A little?"
You stubbornly looked away.
He knew that look...
The I don't want to complain about it look.
Clark's expression softened.
"Sweetheart."
You immediately lost the argument.
"Okay, maybe more than a little."
"Hm."
His hand rubbed gently along your side. For a moment he simply watched you taking in the way you were curled against him.
The slight tension in your stomach and the way you kept pressing the blanket tighter against yourself.
Then understanding crossed his face.
Without a word, Clark shifted.
You blink.
His large hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, resting carefully against your lower abdomen.
It was warm and had enough pressure to ground you for however long it would last.
You let out a surprised breath.
Clark glanced down at you.
"Is this okay?"
You nodded immediately.
His hand remained there, palm spread over the area that hurt most.
The warmth from him seemed almost unfair. Like his body had been specifically designed to be comforting.
You felt yourself relax before you even meant to. A soft sigh escaped you.
"There."
Clark's voice was quiet. His thumb traced a small circle against your side.
"Better?"
"Loads."
His smile appeared instantly. The one reserved only for you...one that always looked a little relieved whenever he managed to help.
"Good."
You settled deeper against his chest and his hand stayed exactly where it was.
Warmth radiating through your skin.
Not trying to fix everything...not trying to solve the problem.
Just being there.
Holding you.
The steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled you toward sleep.
Another cramp came eventually. Still painful and unpleasant.
But this time Clark's hand was already there.
His arm tightened around you and his lips brushed softly against your hair.
"I know," he murmured.
The words were barely above a whisper. A gentle acknowledgment.
You hummed quietly and tucked yourself even closer.
And Clark, as always, held you without hesitation.
As if there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.
MY WORK IS MY OWN AND I HAVE OWNERSHIP OF MY CREATIONS. DO NOT STEAL, COPY OR REPOST!
She stared at the ceiling, rubbing at her bleary eyes with a yawn, when a heavy head of blond hair settled on her chest. She smiled as his body leaned into hers, left arm wrapping around his bare back. She kissed the top of his head, resting her cheek against him while lazily rubbing soothing circles along his shoulder blades. A sigh of content left his lips, and her heart melted.
He was warm, heavy, and hers.
βPretty.β
Alucard lifted his head at her words, sleepy eyes meeting hers, then his face fell atop her sternum once more. She felt his smile against her skin, and her eyes closed.
Pairing: RE9!Leon Kennedy x isekai'd!fem!Reader (ft. Grace Ashcroft and Victor Gideon)
Summary: Whenever you play Leon's part in Resident Evil Requiem, Leon hears everything you sayβfrom your curses, to your praises, to your reaction to seeing him break open a warped door with his hatchetβhe hears it all. Even when you get thrown into his universe, you're just as shameless as you were before you arrived.
Note: It ain't a Genshinluvr fic if I don't write at least one fic with an isekai plot. There are snippets of the actual game in this fic, and as the fic progresses, once you/the reader gets isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. I had the time of my life typing this out, not gonna lie. It was fun as hell. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).
Warning: Violence (the usual), Victor Gideon caressing Leon (is that a warning itself?), The Girl, you'll probably get secondhand embarrassment from this fic.
Word Count: 9.8k
You're buzzing with excitement, knowing you're going to see the 49-year-old Leon S. Kennedy in his glory after playing Grace's part at the Wrenwood Hotel. You have been anticipating the release of Resident Evil Requiem ever since you saw the trailer for the game. Now that it's in your Steam library, you have been itching to play the game after work.
You're sitting at your desk, knees pressing against your chest as the cut scene plays before you. Your heart is still pounding against your chest after you manage to escape from the infected police officer, Cole. You watch Grace collapse in the strange man's iron grip, her body slumping to the side, and the screen goes black.
"Is it finally happening?" You whisper, leaning forward towards the monitor, and watch the series of police cars slowly appear on the screen, before cutting to a scene where it shows a dead body with strange blotches on the palm of the deceased's hand. Your eyes light up. "It is! It is it is it is!"
The manβobviously, it's thee Leon S. Kennedyβgets up from where he was kneeling and leaves the area that is blocked off with crime scene tape.
"Talk to me. Is this one like the others?" A woman's voice breaks through the sound of pouring rain as the man walks towards the CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS and POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape.
"Same black blotches." He ducks under the tape and continues to walk past the police cars at the crime scene.
"And it's not postmortem lividity?" The mission coordinator asks.
"No." He turns toward the area where his car is parked. "No, this is different. That's six now. Six survivors of Raccoon City, all dead from the same thing." The scene switches to the inside of the car.
"Yeah, that's⦠not good."
"No⦠No, it's not." The car door opens, and the investigator gets into the car before closing it.
You lean in your seat, biting your bottom lip. God, his voice is so husky. You continue watching the cut scene, completely immersed and enamored by the sight of the man you will be playing as very soon, once the cut scene is over. The mission coordinator proceeds to give additional information to the mysterious man.
You already know who this mysterious man is behind the wheel. But when the bottom half of his face is shown in the rear-view mirror, you audibly gasp and continue to watch the cut scene, watching the man grab his gun and pop out the cylinder, spinning it around before popping it back in, while the mission coordinator continues to speak in his intercom.
The minute the game finally reveals Leon's face, you gasp. "Oh myβLeon, you're so handsome."
For about thirty seconds, Leon doesn't respond to the woman on the other end of his intercom. His eyebrows slightly furrow, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Did he just hear someone else's voice? It's certainly not the mission coordinator. What the hell?
"You there, Leon?" The mission coordinator asks, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Leon nods. "Yeah. I'm here."
"You okay?" Leon can hear the woman raise her eyebrows as she waits for his response.
Leon doesn't respond to her question. Leon glances in his rear-view mirror, checking to see if a random woman may have sneaked into his car, but he sees no one. Leon pushes the start button of his Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT, and the black luxury car purrs to life.
"Send me the address," Leon says, putting his car in reverse and turning halfway. "I'll check it out." Leon puts his gearshift into drive before he drives off into the night.
You stare at the dark screen after watching Leon's car disappear into the nightβyour mouth agape. You're so glad that you spent $69.99 for this game. You could spend additional money on the deluxe version, but you wanted to finish the game first before deciding whether a deluxe version is worth buying.
You end up playing the game for a little over an hour. You're now on Grace's part of the game, where you need to find a screwdriver for the fuse box in Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. You didn't know what got into you when you chose to play the standard classic mode rather than casual or standard modern mode.
"God, I'm so stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?" You mutter after Grace grabs the ink ribbon in the room that you unlocked with the Cherub Key. "Limited autosaves, and I need to save my gameplay wisely. Why did I choose this mode again?"
You're roaming around the area as Graceβyou're playing in first-person point of viewβtrying to gather the courage to go to the nursing station. It's so dark that you have to squint to see in the darkness. As much as you want to change the setting to make it a little brighter for you to see in the dark, where's the fun in that?
"It's okay! I can do this! Everything will be okay, and nothing will happen!" You try to give yourself a pep talk, having Grace walk to the nursing station with a tiny lighter in her hand, illuminating her path. Just as Grace approaches the door, a cut scene is triggered, and an infected corpse falls through the door, scaring both you and Grace.
Grace leans down and touches the corpse's neck. "He's dead." Grace states the obvious.
"I would hope so." You mutter, mentally preparing for what's to come.
After Grace moves the man's head, a large hand emerges from the darkness and grabs the infected corpse. Grace lets out a choked gasp, watching in horror as the grotesque monster brings the dead body up to her mouth and bites off the head.
Its eyes lock on Grace, mouth and teeth stained with blood, and it leans towards Grace. You flinch back from your monitor, questioning your choices on playing the game in the dead of night. After the cut scene ends, you immediately turn around and leave the nursing station with the monster at your (Grace's?) tail.
"Come on, come on, come on! Can you please run any faster, Grace?" You panic, shaking your legs as you run to the nearest room that has lights. When you successfully run to Room 203, you turn around to see the grotesque monster at the entrance of the room.
The monster steps into the room, causing Grace to fearfully yell out, "Don't come any closer!"
The monster's gray skin starts sizzling and burning from the lights in the room. It shrieks and steps outside the room. You and Grace watch the monster climb up a hole in the ceiling, leaving Grace alone at last. Just when you thought you were safe, the lights in the room went out, sending chills and shivers down your spine.
You run out of the room, heart pounding against your chest. After you make it back to the nursing station, you grab the med injector and start searching for the screwdriver for the fuse box. You can hear blood pounding in your ears, listening to Grace's shaky breath.
You search around the room and eventually have to move the cart. But before you do that, you move it slightly and open the locker to see a green herb.
"This could be useful," Grace mutters, grabbing it.
You climb onto the cart, grabbing the antique coin from the top of the locker before getting off. You grab the cart and start pushing towards the shelf where you spotted a red toolbox perched on top. Just as you're halfway to the shelf, a metal tray slides off the cart and clatters loudly to the ground, causing you and Grace to freeze momentarily.
You hear chains and shackles dragging on the floor, followed by heavy footsteps that are heading towards the nursing station where Grace is. Out of sheer panic, you grab the cart and move it closer to the shelf, ignoring the other items falling off and crashing to the ground.
You catch a glimpse of the creature through the window, slamming her hand against the glass while walking towards the nursing station. At this point, your heart is in your throat, and you're close to pausing the game and ending it there for the night, but the issue is that you still need to save the game, and if you don't, you have to redo where it last auto-saved.
Once the cart is close enough to the shelf, you climb onto it and grab the red toolbox, unlatching it and taking out the screwdriver. You sigh in relief, hopping off the cart and running to the nearest hiding spot. You extinguish the flames of Grace's lighter, staring at the door while listening to the monster getting closer to where you're having Grace hide.
The monster's hand suddenly appears, grabbing onto the doorframe before walking into the room. It sniffs the air, walking further into the room and looking around. It gets close to where the cart is and lets out a frenzied growl, swiping at the cart, causing it to fly to the desk. Grace whimpers.
You take it as a sign to start running. Before the mutated creature can turn and look in your and Grace's direction, you have Grace leave the hiding spot and start sprinting in the darkness. Since the creature turned the lights off in Room 203, you start running to the room where the typewriter sits. Before you pass the nursing station, the door bursts open, and the monster appears.
You briefly pause the game, staring at the menu in horror. Your heart is thudding painfully against your chest as you try to calm down. You lean back in your seat, heavily debating if you should just stop there.
"But I made so much progress. I have the screwdriver. I just need to find a way to get Grace to go around the monster, run to Room 201, get the fuse from the fuse box in that very room, and run to the other fuse box where I got the Cherub Key."
You take a deep breath and close your eyes. God, this is horrifying. Playing the game in first person point of view makes it even scarier than you anticipated. You give yourself a pep talk before unpausing the game. Grace cries out in fear, freezing in fear when the monster fully reveals itself in front of Grace.
You start mashing the buttons, begging for Grace to start moving or else she's dead. "Come on, come on, come on! We gotta go, or else we're next, Grace!"
As if she heard you, Grace turns around and starts running to the other entrance of the nursing station where the two of you came from. Grace hides near the desk in the nursing station, panting as the two of you wait and listen to the monster walk past the nursing station over and over.
"This is horrifying." You mutter, hands trembling on your mouse and keyboard. "Is the empty bottle even going to work in this situation?" You creep towards the door where the monster burst from, trying to see where it is.
You take the empty bottle out of Grace's inventory and aim for the furthest part of the hallwayβclose to where the plant was knocked overβand toss the bottle. The bottle shatters, grabbing the creature's attention. It shrieks and charges towards where the bottle landed, giving you and Grace a small window to escape your hiding spot.
You have Grace sprint to Room 201 as fast as she could, but it feels like Grace wasn't running at all from first person perspective. It feels more like a power walk rather than Grace running for her life. Halfway down the hallway, you and Grace hear the monster shrieking and charging towards where you're heading.
"Hurry, hurry!"
Grace pushes the door aside and makes it to the room where the typewriter sits. You sigh in relief, blood pounding in your ears. Grace takes a few steps towards where the fuse box is, only for the entire building to shake and the lights to flicker and turn off.
"We need to get that fuse and get the hell out of here as soon as possible," You say, making Grace go to the fuse box inside the closet. You unscrew the fuse box with the screwdriver, and Grace takes out the fuse, triggering a cut scene.
Grace stares at the fuse, "Alright," she mutters. Grace turns around, and just when she can leave the closet, you and Grace hear a faint thud coming above her. Grace gasps and looks up at the gaping hole in the ceiling of the closet in horror.
Grace takes a step back, eyes still locked on the hole. "Oh my god," Grace whispers.
The monster starts climbing into the room where Grace is, causing Grace to gasp and start panicking. The cut scene suddenly ends, and now you find yourself forcing Grace to turn around and make a run for it to the fuse box where the Cherub Key was located.
The lights shatter, and the building rumbles as Grace runs through the dark hallways of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. When you press 'F' at the fuse box, a cut scene is triggered, showing Grace shoving the fuse into the fuse box, pressing the button, and quickly looking back as the security gate slowly pulls up.
You watch Grace drop to the ground and quickly crawl underneath the moving gate. "Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!" Grace pleads as she crawls through the gate, and the monster appears where Grace came from. You collapse in your seat, sighing in relief, happy that you have gotten through the first (among many) difficult parts of the game.
The monitor goes black before switching to another cut sceneβbut it starts with showing Leon's Porsche driving through the gate of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center and to the front. Leon exits the car, and you gasp in awe, completely enamored by the mere sight of Leon S. Kennedy.
"God, he looks so good." You whisper breathlessly as you watch him walk to the door of the facility after closing the car door. "Why can't you be real?" You lament, resting your chin on your knees as you continue watching the cut scene unfold.
Leon stands in the central hall, his eyes scanning his surroundings. It's quiet, too quiet. But despite how quiet it is in the facility, Leon still hears the same voice he heard earlier near the crime scene he left before arriving at the sanatorium. Maybe he's going crazy, and the side effects of the T-virus are starting to get to him.
You watch the nurse appear behind Leon, calling out to him and informing him that Dr. Gideon was expecting him.
"Funny. I don't remember getting an invitation," Leon's sarcastic response makes you snort, shaking your head. Leon hears the faint snort, the corners of his lips barely curving up into a smile.
The nurse continues speaking to Leon, telling him that Dr. Gideon is waiting for him. Leon soon follows after the nurse as she guides him to who knows where. The cut scene continues a little longer, only for the nurse to lead Leon to the rehabilitation ward. The door closes behind Leon, making him turn around. Then the cut scene ends there, and now you're in control of Leon.
You don't move Leon, watching him on the screen and admiring his design. God, the developers at Capcom really went all out for Leon. You spin the camera around, continuing to admire him. Leon looks around the facility, wondering why he couldn't move despite trying to. It's like he's locked in place until someone commands him to move. The nurse is waiting at the end of the hallway, waiting for him to follow.
"Okay, I need to get moving and stop getting easily distracted by Leon," You say to yourself, finally controlling Leon's movements and proceeding to follow the nurse as Leon.
The nurse explains about the facility and what they do at the sanatorium as both Leon and the nurse continue walking down the hall. Leon has no idea where the nurse is leading him, and neither do you, but judging by the map, it's probably to your (mainly Leon's) doom.
"The facility keeps a low profile due to the sensitive nature of the research," The nurse says, walking to the rehabilitation center of the facility.
"Oh, I bet it does," Leon replies, as he follows the nurse throughout the facility.
You hum, eyebrows furrowing at the conversation between Leon and the nurse of the strange facility. "That's something someone suspicious would say," You mutter, face scrunching up. You're so glad that you haven't dealt with any horrors as Leon just yet. "You have a mutated monster stomping around your facility right now, too."
Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment, still questioning if he's going crazy. Leon glances around, then at the nurse, but she doesn't seem to notice anything strangeβor hear a woman's voice for that matterβand continues making her way to the room at the end of the rehabilitation ward. Once Leon gets closer to the room and the nurse, a new cut scene starts for you.
You yawn, stretching in your seat, watching the nurse leave Leon alone in the room and closing the door behind her as she leaves. The camera zooms in on Leon, making your face scrunch up.
"God, this Dr. Gideon guy is way more obsessed with Leon than I am," You comment, watching Leon peek at every little thing in the room.
Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment. "Almost as you are? What do you mean by that?" Leon wants to ask. Instead, Leon chooses to stay silent, as saying things out loud would earn weird looks from whoever passes by the room he's in, or could land him in this exact facility.
Little did you know, Leon's searching around for where the voice is coming from. The woman's voice is loud and clear to him, and yet he sees no one. He's alone in this room, but he's been hearing voices in his head every now and then. The voice comes and goes, gushing over him and his skills; other times, the same voice would chime in after someoneβwho's conversing with Leonβsays something.
Leon rests against the desk, reaching for the photograph of Victor Gideon and his medical team that runs the facility. Leon subconsciously furrows his eyebrows as he scrutinizes the image in his hand before setting it back down where he found it. Leon checks the time on his watch, his expensive watch appearing on your monitor.
"That looks expensive, but I shouldn't be surprised. You drive a Porsche Cayenne Turbo GTβthat's probably the most expensive thing I've seen you own." You comment, watching the time tick away on Leon's watch.
Much to your disappointment, the cut scene soon comes to an end after the nurse is killed by the chainsaw-wielding doctor. You're soon in control of Leon again and have to kill every infected person in the surrounding area with a chainsaw, which you're not a fan of.
"This thing is a bit hard to wield around. It kind of slows me down, and after Leon plunges the chainsaw into a zombie, I would need to retrieve it again from said zombieβ¦" You sigh, shaking your head. "Oh, shit." The chainsaw drops to the ground and starts spinning out of control.
You force Leon out of the way, trying to avoid getting hit by the out-of-control chainsaw. A zombie nurse charges at Leon with her arms outstretched, trying to grab him. You try shooting the nurse with the requiem gun, but miss.
"Fuck. My aim is atrocious. I am so sorry, Leon. You're supposed to be cool, but I'm making you look like an amateur loser." You frown.
Leon frowns. "Amateur loser? Who are you calling an amateur loser?" Leon mouths to himself, continuing to aim his gun at the infected nurse.
You try shooting the nurse as she gets closer to Leon, but before you can shoot, the nurse lunges at Leon. You let out a choked gasp, assuming Leon is done for, but he ducks underneath the nurse's grasp and shoots her at the back of the head, blood spewing all over the place when her head explodes.
"Whoa!" You gasp, eyes wide in awe. "How did you do that?!" You exclaim, pausing briefly to look at what buttons you've pressed, but you're too busy mashing different buttons to know the actual controls of the dodge he just did.
You unpause the game. "Leon, can you do that again?" You ask yourself, shooting every zombie that's charging at Leon at full speed. How the hell did you do that again? You really need to know what the controls are, or else you won't be able to pull that cool move ever again.
As more zombies emerge from the other rooms in the rehabilitation ward, you shoot every zombie in the head successfully despite having bad aim. An infected doctor lunges at Leon, causing you to panic momentarily, miss your shot, and giving the zombie an opportunity to grab onto Leon and bite down on his shoulders.
"Ah, fuck! I'm so sorry, Leon!"
Leon cries out in pain as he thrashes around, trying to get the zombie to release. You press on your mouse frantically, watching Leon's health bar rapidly deplete at a dangerous pace, the longer the zombie bites down on Leon's shoulders. Leon reaches for his hatchet and attacks the zombie, causing it to back away.
"I really need to learn how to properly parry and aim." You grumble, aiming Leon's requiem gun at the zombie and shoot, only to miss again. "Man, I'm making Leon look uncool, what the fuck."
The zombie lunges at Leon again, and before you can panic, Leon dodges under the zombie's arm and shoots it at the back of its head. The adrenaline dies down, and Leon is left alone in the rehabilitation ward, surrounded by headless zombies.
The only sounds you hear are the sounds of the chainsaw and Leon's heavy breathing, his health bar yellow rather than green. Before escaping the ward, you have Leon search around the room for a healing item. You could use the green herb in your inventory, but it's not enough to fully heal Leon.
"It's okay, Leon! You're going to be okay! You're not going to die under my watch, no matter how bad I am with aiming and parrying." You reassure the DSO agent, picking up the mixed herbs from the glass cabinet that Leon broke. After picking up the mixed herbs, you immediately use them, watching Leon's health bar slightly go up.
You continue playing the game until almost four in the morning, only having to end your gameplay after Leon's cut scene with Victor Gideon after your Mom peeks into your room, scaring the shit out of you.
"Why are you still awake?!" Your Mom asks, staring at you in horror.
You point at your monitor, a cut scene of Leon tied up to a chair playing on your screen. Your Mom peeks at your computer and sighs, shaking her head before leaving your room, muttering under her breath about how you need to stop staying up so late.
You turn back to your monitor, taking multiple screenshots of Leon tied to the chair while Victor Gideon is almost sweet-talking to the DSO agent. You stare at Leon in awe, mouth agape. The side view of Leon on? Whew! His biceps are looking extra delicious.
You bite your bottom lip. "God, I would love to sink my teeth into those biceps of his." You lean back in your seat, groaning. "The ladies at Capcom did a fantastic job at designing Leon."
You watch Victor Gideon touch Leon, almost oh-so intimately. The way his gray fingers brush the strands of Leon's brown and silver hair. Ugh. You're so envious of Victor's privilege to even be in the presence of Leon Kennedy. You make sure to take multiple screenshots of Leonβframe by frame.
Leon can hear the camera shutters, raising an eyebrow. It's strange how Victor Gideon is touching him, and yet this voice in his head is swooning over him being tied up and touched by the former T-Virus researcher. Of course, he doesn't hear you mention a single thing about Victor, only about wanting to sink your teeth into his (your words, not his) beefy biceps.
"I don't like how he's touching you, Leon. He's practically fondling you." You grumble. "I should be the one to do that, not him. Just like how I should be the one to lunge at you and sink my teeth into your biceps, not those greedy zombies."
The camera cuts to Leon looking down while Victor Gideon softly says, "Are the answers to your disease here?" after pulling down Leon's shirt collar. Victor leans down, his face not far from Leon's. "Yesβ¦." Victor whispers.
Leon flinches, his face pinching up with disgust. "You know, I do have a question," Leon says, looking at Victor, deadpanned. "When was the last time you brushed your teeth?"
Leon hears immediate laughter coming from you after asking. Leon's tempted to laugh as well, but because of the predicament he's in, he doesn't smile. The smile on Victor's face slips off, and he backs away from Leon and takes a few steps in front of Leon.
Mechanical whirring can be heard from Leon's end as Victor stares at him, zooming in on his face and his eyes. You take a quick screenshot, thanking Victor for being oddly meticulous when it comes to Leon. If it weren't for Victor, you wouldn't have a lot of screenshots of Leon added to your new collection.
The cut scene soon ends with you taking over fifty screenshots (you're pressing down on the screenshot button, taking screenshots of every frame), and you find yourself back in control of Leon. You frown, letting out a wistful sigh. "I'm going to need to find a stopping point and go to bed. Let's trigger an auto save somewhere, and I'll continue when I wake up." You say to yourself.
You make it to where Leon needs to go and stop in front of a metal cabinet storage that's blocking a doorway. You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, approaching said cabinet storage with a cheeky smile. Oh, you are going to enjoy this!
You press 'F,' and Leon starts lifting the cabinet to move it out of the way, his biceps and back muscles flexing as he lets out a grunt. Before Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way, you suddenly release the 'F' key.
"Oh, fuck, my hands slipped." You say to no one.
It's a good thing Leon's back is facing your monitor because if it were facing his direction, you would've seen an eye roll from him along with a shy smile. Leon knows what you're doing; he's not stupid. You press the 'F' key again, watching Leon lift the cabinet, his biceps flexing underneath that tight shirt of his. Again, before Leon can fully move the obstacle out of the way, you release the keys.
You huff. "Man, my keyboard is messed up. I really need to get a new one because for some reason, it's not lasting long," You say with a shit-eating grin on your face. "I have a bad feeling that this keyboard is going to give me⦠issues the longer I play this game with a broken keyboard."
"Oh, yeah?" Leon mutters, shaking his head with a small smirk, his shoulders shaking from his quiet laughter. He can get used to hearing your commentary while he's handling the shit show that's happening at Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center.
Finally, after some time, you finally have Leon move the metal cabinet, relishing in the sight of his muscles flexing underneath his shirt, and the sound of his grunts as he does so. Leon S. Kennedy, the man that you are! The autosave button appears in the top left corner of the screen, signaling you to go to bed.
With a heavy heart, you bid Leon goodnightβas if he could hear youβbefore pausing and exiting the game. You plop onto your bed after the game closes and roll on your bed, eyelids feeling heavy after staring at your monitor for who knows how long. You close your eyes and drift into a dreamless sleep.
A few hours into your sleep, you wake up to the feeling of your bedroom shaking, forcing yourself to crack your eyes open briefly and stare up at the ceiling, still groggy from your slumber. You rub your eyes, mumbling to yourself, and turn over on your right side before going back to sleep. Earthquakes are common, so waking up to one isn't out of the ordinary. Nothing seems out of the norm, but little did you know, this isn't any other earthquake you've dealt with in the past.
That is, until you wake up to someone shaking you nonstop. "Hey, can you hear me? Wake up!" The voice says as the shaking continues.
You groan, trying to turn over and ignore whoever is shaking you. "Not now." You mumble, eyebrows furrowing.
Whoever is shaking you is very persistent, as they continue to do something to try to rouse you from your sleep. The person starts lightly patting your cheek, muttering about how you need to wake up and stop ignoring them. You finally crack your eyes open after a while, vision blurry from your sleep. A blurry face is hovering above yours, but as your vision gradually clears up, your heart nearly falls into your ass.
"Leon?" You whisper in disbelief, mind still foggy from your sleep.
Leon chuckles, sighing in relief. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Good to see those eyes of yours," Leon says, his eyes scanning the littlest details on your face. "I was worried you weren't going to wake up, but it seems like you're not a morning person, huh."
You don't respond to Leon as you slowly reach up and cup his face with both your hands, still trying to comprehend what's happening. Surely this is a dream, right? You did play Resident Evil Requiem for hours before going to bed, and Leon's the last thing you were thinking about before drifting to sleep.
"This is the most vivid dream I have ever had," You mutter, still holding Leon's face in your hands. "Man, it's going to be so disappointing when I wake up."
Leon stares down at you, confused. "What are you talking about?"
You shake your head, head falling to the side before sighing sadly. "This is the best dream I've ever had, and yet I'm going to get a rude awakening very soon once this ends." You lament.
"Aw, man. I think you hit your head pretty hard when you fell," Leon mutters, feeling around your head for a possible concussion.
You blink at Leon. "Of course, I fell for you. Who wouldn't fall for you?"
Leon shakes his head, the corner of his lips curling up. Despite everything, you still manage to be a sweet talker, much to Leon's amusement. Then again, you do think that this is all a dream. Leon's fingers brush a certain area on your head, earning a hiss from you. "I can feel a goose egg forming."
Now that your mind clears up and you're more awake than you were, you come to the realization that Leon is cradling you in his armsβhis beefy arms. Wait, that means that his bicep is your pillow. You rub your eyes again, sitting up and looking around to see that you're not in your room. This dream is a bit too realistic for your liking, because why are you in the attic of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center?
Panic hits you like a train. Your head snaps towards Leon's direction. "This is a dream, right? I'm still asleep in my bed, right?" You start pinching yourself, but nothing is happening. "Oh, my god. This can't be real. This has to be a dream."
Leon doesn't say anything. Instead, he continues to stare at you, taking in every detail of your face, your hair, and your clothes. The longer Leon listens to you ramble, the more he realizes something.
His eyes light up. "You're the voice I've been hearing," Leon says, his arm still holding you up.
His comment makes you go silent. "Pardon?" You press your lips into a thin line. "What do you mean?"
Leon's lips curl up into a smile, shaking his head. "I don't think now is a good time to tell you when you're having an inner turmoil."
Maybe a hug will help you calm down a little, but given the things he heard you say a few hours before your arrival, it probably won't help. But it won't hurt to try, right? Leon pulls you into his arms, hugging you. Your cheek is cushioned against his chest, his beefy arms around your torso, and his chin is resting atop your head.
You wrap your arms around Leon's neck, feeling yourself melting in his arms. God, it feels so nice to hug him. You can't describe what it's like to hug Leon, but you can live in his arms if it's possible. You and Leon sit like that for a while. It doesn't feel weird or uncomfortable to be hugging someone you don't knowβa fictional one, to be specific.
It's comforting and gives you a small window to collect your thoughts. You went to bed, but woke up to an earthquake before falling back asleep. Then you're roused from your sleep by Leon, who claimed that you hit your head when you fell. This is all so strange.
"How the hell did I get isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem? I didn't get hit by a truck." You mutter to yourself, but it's loud enough for Leon to hear.
Leon raises his eyebrows, leaning down to look at your face from the side. "What does 'isekai' mean? And what do you mean by getting hit by a truck?" God, the creases between his eyebrows are so cute. You'd love to smooth the wrinkles over with your fingers.
"I will explain that to you after you tell me what you meant by 'you're the voice I've been hearing,'" You reply, looking up at him.
Leon stares at you for a moment, chuckling to himself. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you what I meant when I said that," Leon caves in.
Leon's not sure if he should look forward to your reaction after he explains everything to you. But hey, you did say that you want him to explain what he meant by what he said, so who is he to deny you? As Leon explains everything, he watches your reaction and body language closely.
The way your face fell was both comical and endearing because now you're covering your face out of sheer embarrassment, but you didn't cover your ears, letting him know that you're still listening despite your reaction. By the time Leon is done explaining, he has a wide smile on his face, the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes becoming noticeable.
You take a deep breath, trying not to have a mental breakdown after hearing Leon's explanation. "You heard everything." You say. Suddenly, you feel faint, but you can't faint in front of Leon. You can't embarrass yourself in front of Leon for the umpteenth time in a row.
Leon nods, still smiling. "That is correct."
"My cursing whenever you get bitten by a zombie."
"You curse like a sailor, but also like a child who was granted permission to curse by her parents." He replies.
You immediately protest. "What! No, I don't!" Do you? Man, this just keeps getting worse and worse for you. "β¦ You also heard my thirst over yourβ¦"
"Beefy biceps, me using my hatchet to crack open a warped door, and you claiming that your keyboard is broken when I need to move the fallen metal cabinet in front of a doorway. I can go on, but I'm afraid that you'll have a heart attack if I continue." Leon says.
You hug your knees to your chest. At this point, you're more likely to die from embarrassment than from a zombie bite. You didn't know that Leon can hear everything you say! Does that mean Grace and Victor hear the things you say, too?
You peek at Leon, "Please tell me that no one else hears the things I say." You whisper.
Leon gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to worry about that. As far as I know, I was the only person who heard your voice. It doesn't seem like Victor heard your voice, and as for that FBI agentβGrace Ashcroft, I'm not entirely sure."
After Leon's explanation, you choose to stay quiet. There's no need for you to embarrass yourself again in front of Leon, right? Leon checks his watch, and when he looks up, you're staring at him with stars in your eyes. Leon is even more beautiful in person. His hair looks so soft and healthy for someone who bleaches his hair often. God, the stubble⦠You love the scratchiness of it when you cupped his face in your hands.
Leon doesn't say anything; instead, he lets you do what makes you happy and stay sane. His eyes are blue, but they're not nearly as blue as it was when he was in his early twenties. Maybe they're still the same blue, but you would need to get a closer look at itβif he catches your drift.
"I love how you kept your signature hairstyle after all these yearsβ¦" You murmur, leaning side to side as your eyes continue taking in every detail of him.
"Now it's your turn to explain to me what 'isekai' means," Leon comments, crossing his arms over his chest.
You quickly glance at Leon's bulging biceps before looking back at him innocently. His biceps looked at you first, so it's only fair for you to look at them in return. "Where do I startβ¦" You trail off, tapping on your chin.
So you start explaining to Leon what isekai means, giving him a rundown on it, its origins, and how there's a handful of animated shows (specifically anime) that have this concept. Leon is intrigued, but also confused. The look of confusion on Leon's handsome face is cute. His eyebrows are furrowing, his head tilting to the side while not taking his eyes off of you for one bit.
You subconsciously reach forward and gently press on the space between his eyebrows, smoothing the creases between his brows. Man, even Leon has soft skin for someone who goes through hell. You meet Leon's eyes, causing you to quickly retract your hand before apologizing sheepishly.
"After explaining to me what 'isekai' meant, it makes sense. Is there a way for you to return to your world?" Leon asks.
You frown dramatically. "Aw, you want to return me to sender already? I'm hurt." You joke, clutching your chest playfully. "I thought you would enjoy my company after going through the horrors of having to deal with Victor Gideon caressing you lovingly."
You turn around and face the wall, pretending to be offended by what he asked. Leon shudders at the memory of Victor's fingers brushing through his hair, fingers ghosting over the dark blotches on his neck after lowering the collar of his shirt. That is not a pleasant memory, and he certainly wishes he could erase it.
"Your presence is a breath of fresh air. I'm merely asking because I don't think you would want to stay and deal with what's waiting for us," Leon replies, reaching forward and grabbing your forearm and turning you around to face him.
You can just melt in his arms right now. You've imagined this very moment, but in a different scenario. Leon Kennedy grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, gazing at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, his eyebrows knitting together as he pleads for you not to leave. And the way he says it? It'll be soft, making you weak at the knees.
"By the way, you never introduced yourself. You know my name, but I don't know yours." Leon adds, pulling you out of your thoughts.
Your eyes widen. "Oh, crap! You're right! How could I forget?" You smack your forehead before introducing yourself to Leon. After telling Leon your first and last name, Leon stares at you while muttering your full name to himself. Heat rushes to your face the longer he does it.
After what feels like forever, Leon smiles and nods. "Your name suits you. I like it. Your parents must've put a lot of thought and love into naming you."
You stare at Leon, mouth agape. Why did he have to say that? Leon raises an eyebrow at you, smiling in amusement. Without saying anything, you cover your face with both hands as heat continues rushing to your face. This man can effortlessly make you blush like a schoolgirl.
You groan behind your hands. "What are you doing to me?! It's not fair. You know you have this effect on me! Damn you, Leon Scott Kennedy!" You whine.
If only you could evaporate right now. Maybe Leon was up to something when he asked if there was a way for you to return to your world, because how much longer can you handle being in the presence of Leon S. Kennedy? The only thing you hear is laughter coming from Leonβhis laugh is soft, very gentle. You peek between your fingers to see him shaking his head, a wide smile on his face as he gazes at the wooden floor.
Realization hits you. You're so fucked. There's not a single man in your lifeβreal and fictionalβwho has made you feel this way before. Until Leon S. Kennedy happened. You love every version of Leon, but there's something about forty-nine-year-old Leon Kennedy. Aside from his looks, there's something that makes you feel so warm and gooey inside when he shows up on your screen.
You look at an imaginary camera, hands falling on your lap before sighing. "I'm so fucked." You whisper, shaking your head in disbelief. "Okay, let's kill some zombies and get the hell out of here."
You push yourself off the ground, feeling around for the so-called goose egg Leon felt on your head, while Leon gets off the ground and brushes the dust off his ass. Leon grabs your wrist, preventing you from finding this goose egg. You look at Leon, frowning.
He wags his pointer finger at you, shaking his head. "Don't search for it."
"Fine." You mumble, lowering your arm, but Leon doesn't let go of your wrist.
You blink at him, looking back and forth from your hands to Leon's face. Leon doesn't say anything and starts looking for an exit with you in tow, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. You will take that as a win because Leon is holding your hand, kind of! You peek at Leon and wiggle your wrist to hold his hand.
You and Leon soon come across the familiar metal cabinet that's blocking the entrance. Your heart nearly sinks into the pit of your stomach when you realize what you're about to face soon. This is strange; you could've sworn that you moved the cabinet before ending the game right there.
"Step back. I don't want you to get hurt." Leon says, gently nudging you to the side, and starts lifting the cabinet.
You press your lips into a thin line and cover your mouth, watching his back muscles and biceps flex under the fabric of his shirt. Leon grunts and starts lifting the metal cabinet. You bite your lower lip, enticed by what you're seeing and hearing.
After a few minutes, Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way. He fixes his shirt before pulling out his gun from the holster. Leon turns to you to see you staring at him in a daze, earning an eyebrow raise and smirk from him. You quickly snap out of it, acting like you weren't ogling him just now.
"So, do I follow you into that room or do I wait out here until you finish your, uh, duty?" You ask, rubbing the back of your neck.
You don't know how much has changed since your sudden arrival in this universe, but you're hoping it's not much change, but who knows?
Leon holds his hand out and gestures for you to follow him. "I'm not leaving you behind, are you crazy?"
"For you? Yes." Is your automatic response. You slap your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. "I mean, let's go and get this over with!" You say, grabbing his hand and walking through the entrance with Leon in tow.
You're always amazed by your ability to humiliate yourself. This has got to be a new record for you. Once you and Leon step through that door, everything shifts. The atmosphere, the mood, the air, and the sound. You hear squelching coming from the other side of the room.
Think of someone chewing with their mouth open, but multiply that by a thousand. That's how loud it is in person. The squelching is accompanied by deep rumbles. You and Leon trade looks with each other before slowly making your way through the room, making sure Leon picks up ammo for his guns.
Leon stops in his tracks, holding his arm out in front of you before looking over his shoulder at you. "You're going to have to trust me on this, alright?" Leon murmurs.
You look at him, confused. "What are you planning? Should I be worried?" You whisper.
Leon doesn't respond and continues walking towards where the disturbing sound is coming from. You swallow the lump in your throat when you eye the grotesque creature towering over a dead body, feasting on its rotting flesh. The smell is rancid, making your stomach churn.
You grip the back of Leon's shirt, lightly tugging it. "How can you handle a smell like that when you're dealing with these things?" You mutter to him, tempted to bury your face into his back to block out the smell of decomposition and blood.
"When you're constantly out on the field dealing with these things, you'd get used to it."
You raise an eyebrow at his response. "But you recoiled when you caught a whiff of Victor's breath." You point out.
Leon snorts. "Smelling rotting flesh and bad breath are two different things. Besides, who knows how long it's been since he has brushed his teeth?"
"Can't argue with that."
You continue following Leon around the room while he collects ammo for his guns, occasionally peeking from behind him to get a look at the mutated being. For something that large, you're shocked that it hasn't heard you and Leon walking around the vicinity.
"Do you trust me?" Leon asks suddenly, turning towards you.
You falter. "Uh, yes, I do trust youβeven though we met not long ago. I'm surprised you trust me despite the things I put you through." You refer to your failed aiming and parrying before you were isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem.
Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course, I trust you. You're the only one who kept me sane at the start of this shit show." Leon replies.
Leon turns around and aims his gun at the ravenous, mutated creature and shoots it in the head with his shotgun. You flinch at the sound, gripping his shirt hard as you watch the creature stop munching on the corpse and turn towards your and Leon's direction.
Fueled by rage and anger, the chunky zombie roars. "Food! Food! Food!" He growls, getting ready to charge towards you and Leon.
"Hope I'm not next," Leon mutters.
Before you can say anything, Leon quickly turns around, grabs you by the waist, and tosses you over his shoulders before making a run for it. Upside down, you wrap your arms around his waist, whimpering as the monster gets closer to you and Leon. You certainly didn't sign up for this when you got isekai'd, but hey, you didn't sign up to be isekai'd in general!
"Leon! He's getting closer!" You whimper, patting his lower back.
Leon loads his shotgun, making sharp turns to avoid getting grabbed by the ravenous creature. Leon picks up a med injector from a wall that was broken by the monster, along with the shotgun shells and handgun ammo. Leon quickly grabs onto the ladder and climbs up. You nearly flip over if it weren't for Leon's quick reflexes and your iron grip around his waist.
"Are you sure I'm not getting in the way?" You ask, lifting your head to look at Leon. "I feel like I'm adding more weight on you. Metaphorically and literally."
Leon pats the back of your thighs. "You're fine, you're not getting in the way or adding weight on me," Leon reassures you.
Leon quickly puts you down on the platform, fixes his gear, and gestures for you to get on his shoulders by squatting in front of you. You climb over Leon, stomach resting on his shoulders, while your arms are wrapped around his waist. Leon wraps one arm over the back of your thighs, checking to see where the mutated monster is.
On cue, the chunky mutated monster, which you found out is named Timothy from the note Leon read to you, appears at the bottom of the platform. Timothy growls and tries reaching for you and Leon, but Leon shoots him in the face with his shotgun, but Timothy's not phased by it.
Timothy starts climbing up the platform, causing you to involuntarily flinch. "Leonβ¦" You plead, patting Leon's thighs. "We need to move, or else we will be on Timothy's menu!"
Leon tightens his grip on your legs. "Brace yourself."
Before you can process what Leon's doing, you suddenly feel airborne. Your heart is in your throat as you cling to Leon for dear life. Leon lands on the ground with a grunt and shoots Timothy a few more times before making a run for it, loading his shotgun.
The chase lasted five more minutes because Timothy was very motivated to get both you and Leon. Finally, Timothy stops, and blood starts spewing out of the holes and gashes on his body that he received from the shotgun shells and Leon's hatchet.
While Timothy is gushing all over the place, Leon walks to the other end of the room to collect extra items that are lying around before putting you back on the ground once Timothy explodes. You brush off your clothes and turn to Leon, propping your hands on your hips and watching him reload his shotgun before switching to his other handgun.
"You know, when I said that I wanted to be manhandled by you, this isn't what I imagined." You comment.
Leon shakes his head, chuckling. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for that. Come on, let's get out of here." Leon gestures for you to follow him as he walks towards the door where the rotting corpseβTimothy's final mealβis lying.
You stare at Leon, mouth agape. What does he mean by that?! Wait, Leon is probably implying other boss fights that are waiting for both you and Leon. You really need to get your head out of the gutter. You follow behind Leon, shuddering when you step in the pool of blood that was once Timothy.
Leon grabs the hand grenade from the puddle of blood and continues walking to the exit. Finally, you and Leon will get to leave this place and face more horrors waiting for both of you. Leon unlatches the door and pushes it open, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure you're still following him.
You and Leon come across a wooden closet with a warped door. Leon walks to it, grabs his hatchet, lodges it between the doors, and starts prying them open. You bite your bottom lip, watching his biceps flex as he tries to open it. Once the door bursts open and Leon grabs whatever is inside, you look away, trying to act like you weren't drooling over him.
"Ready to go?" Leon asks, turning to you as he puts the mod on his handgun.
You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah! Are you ready to go?" You ask, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
"Of course, I am. I'm always ready." Leon says softly, walking past you while gently nudging you to follow him by patting your lower back.
You bite the inside of your cheek, screaming internally. You really need to get yourself together because you're acting like a cat in heat. Leon pushes the red button, and the attic opens; the metal ladder slides down, and Leon starts climbing down.
Once Leon gets off the ladder, you start climbing down, shuddering when you see the amount of blood in the office. The whole time while you're climbing down the ladder, Leon's keeping an eye out while holding out his hands to catch you just in case you slip. You step into the puddle of infected blood, groaning with disgust.
"You'd get used to it," Leon says. "Come on, we need to find Victor Gideon's office."
You follow Leon out of the Chairman's office, on edge about whether zombies are roaming around or not. You don't think there's any zombies roaming around cause you killed most of them when you were playing as Grace. You come across another warped closet outside of the Chairman's office, and you sit back and watch Leon do his thing.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Leon asks, turning to you after taking the handgun ammo and shotgun shells.
You look at Leon, flabbergasted. "Whaβis a lady not allowed to admire a total eye candy in front of her?" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "I have had enough of your teasing! Let's find Victor's office." You stick your nose in the air and walk towards the bar and lounge room.
Leon pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling. "You truly do make this more entertaining than it should be."
The minute you walk into the bar and lounge room, a zombie in a white button-up starts contorting violently while screaming in agony. You walk backwards frantically, bumping into Leon as the zombie gets off the ground and his head morphs into something more horrifying.
"This place is infested," Leon mutters, shaking his head, and aims his gun at the blister head that's running towards both of you. Leon shoots, and the bullet penetrates the zombie's head, causing it to burst, and blood spews everywhere like a water fountain.
You sigh, turning to Leon. "Can you teach me how to shoot one day? You know, in case I have to fight for both of us."
Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course. I can show you when we come across another zombie."
You and Leon continue searching for Victor's office. Instead of having you walk behind or in front of him, Leon makes sure you're by his side at all times because you'd never know when a zombie will sneak up from behind or jump out of nowhere.
As you're both walking up the stairs to the third floor of the sanatorium, you and Leon hear a faint beeping and gurgling from a zombie. Leon hands you his handgun and gestures for you to follow him quietly. Once the zombie is in your and Leon's line of sight, Leon quickly adjusts the gun in your hand, angling your arms a certain way.
"Make sure to have a firm grasp on the gun so it doesn't recoil and hit you in the face," Leon murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back. "Okay, now, you can either shoot the zombie or the red propane tank. I would go for the explosive canister because it's quicker, and who knows how many shots it'll take to kill the zombie."
Taking Leon's advice, you point the handgun towards the red gas tank and shoot. The red canister in the zombie's hand explodes, taking the zombie out with it. You tilt your head up and see Leon's smile as you lower the gun.
Leon pats your shoulders, "Not bad."
"But not good either." You pout dramatically. "Okay, let's go kick Victor Gideon's ass, Leon!" You grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs to another warped doorβmuch to your delight.
Leon shakes his head as he pulls out his hatchet and starts prying the doors open. Once Leon successfully opens the door, you and Leon enter the room and look around to see many bodies with no heads. You immediately latch yourself against Leon, trembling as Leon picks up the paper on the ground.
"Burst their heads if you want to survive."
On cue, you and Leon hear the familiar screams of agony close to the entrance where you and Leon came. This is not what you expected when you got isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. Leon shields you from the blister head and starts shooting the head over and over until the zombie finally dies. He leads to the corner of the room where the other zombie lies and takes the shotgun shells and handgun ammo from the vase.
"Do you trust me?" Leon asks, loading his shotgun and handgun.
You nod. "Of course, I do." You answer.
"Good, cause you're going to need to trust me on this." Leon leans down and tosses you over his shoulders just when another blister head bursts through the door to the meeting room.
You squeeze your eyes shut and cling to Leon's torso as he shoots the blister heads and storms the meeting room, where another blister head is getting ready to charge at Leon. This is going to be a long night, and the worst thing is that you're not even sure if you'll return to your world after all this.
Note: I love how in almost every Leon fics I've typed out, I would be kicking my feet and twirling my hair cause I'm having the time of my life typing Leon fics. I completed insanity mode for RE9, and I feel like I've been through hell and back; I finished that game one minute faster than the standard classic mode, somehow. Every time I write a new Leon fic, I replay RE9 because I miss Leon and want to see him tied up. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!
Read more of my works on myΒ Grand Masterlist,Β which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows? You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like, as a way to show support! ^^
Join the Discord to get future fic updates and connect with other readers, maybe?:) Raccoon City Sanctuary
Imagine Alucard finding his human s/oβs canines absolutely adorable because theyβre so small compared to his:
Sitting at the dinner table, you notice Adrian trying to discreetly glance at your mouth whenever you take a bite. Is there something stuck between your teeth?? You smile nervously, trying not to make it obvious that youβre flustered by him sneaking glances at you. And thatβs when he starts laughing. So there IS something wrong with your teeth. But when you ask him whatβs funny all you get is a βnothing, love.β Ok??
YOU AND CLARK AREN'T DATING; you're just superbly close friends and co-workers. but actions speak louder than whatever excuse either of you make up, and theorizing about your supposed more-than-platonic feelings has caught like wildfire in the bullpen. god forbid work spouses exist...
aka the five love languages through the eyes of the daily planet staff.
pairing. clark kent x fem reader
content. mundane happiness and hopeless romanticism. implied closet sex and jimmy tweaks out. colleaguebffs2luvs. in a world of boys he's a gentleman... 6.3k
WORDS OF AFFIRMATION with perry white
"I second that," Clark Kent chirps, tucking his chin down as if trying to make himself less obvious.
Perry resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Kent seconds your pitchβhe's practically your yes-man-slash-work-wife at this point. You exchange furtive grins, and Perry's sure that if he peeked beneath the conference table, your adjacent feet would be kicking each other.
Ridiculous, this is. And a little endearing, but admitting it out loud would be the equivalent of self-immolation.
"Well, I don't," Perry snips, tapping the ashes off his cigar into the little souvenir tray Lois got him from Nebraska. To this day, he still doesn't know what she was doing there, other than partaking in the general mischief that comes with embodying her brand of investigative journalism.
He decides that he quite likes simpering as you and Kent eye each other with begrudging disappointment diffusing across your faces. "Now, let's move on to the op-ed."
The pages pass by without much interjection from you or Kent. A new fusion bakery opening in Queensland Park is elected for the main feature article, and the room is unanimously for Lois' new expose being sent to print.
Then comes the topic of the front page.
A nervous energy almost vibrates in the air as everyone grips the edges of their laptops (and legal pads, but that's only Kent being old-fashioned) a little tighter.
At his core, Perry is a journalist. And what is a journalist without a little drama?
Which is to say: he loves to bring up page one during the morning conference. If Cat knew, she would call him a closet chismoso, but Perry knows himself well enough that he doesn't need to be told.
"Well," Perry waves his hand with an expectant look, "what's the main story?"
Arms shoot into the air, fingers twitching to get his attention. He almost chortles to himself in the same way he does every day. Really, he can't get enough.
It's his update on who hates who and which icy relationships have thawed over night. It's when Cat and Steve butt heads over the top spot in the paper despite being thicker than thieves last week. It's when Jimmy and Ron debate over which photographer is best for the cover photo.
Plus, it's ultimately beneficial to the staff. To establish a healthy workplace, people need to be honest with each other. It's communication without fear of judgement, because everyone is being judged.
So, the layout editors air their grievances in the chaos, snapping about lonely lines and uneven margins. So, the two representatives from the copy department get heated with the journalists over cleaning up their grammatical errors.
And when tomorrow comes, those things will be fixed up and the entire paper's work ethic will be uplifted. At least, that's sixty percent the reason why the front page pitch is so important.
The other forty percent is him genuinely enjoying the spectacle of a roomful of trained journalists savagely tripping each other for the sacred print space.
Lois wads up a wrapper, sticks a cotton-candy lollipop in her mouth, and throws the crumpled ball of wax paper at a ground reporter whose ears are practically expelling steam, much to Perry's delight. Then she jumps out of her chair and struts out the door, posture all smug with her article having a guaranteed print space.
She's turning out to be a wonderful journalist to work with, Perry thinks.
"Wayne Tech winging on flying carsβClark Kent exclusive, six hundred words!"
The din is snuffed out by your pitch. Kent's breath seizes in a squeak, shoulders bunching up under his ears and eyes trained on the suddenly fascinating table.
Good lord, these two.
Perry really needs to set limits on you sitting next to each other during conferences. One way or another, either one of you never fails to cut short his daily dose of healthy drama.
"It's good," you say, keeping your hand high in the air. "Intriguing. Clark took the picture himself and it's wonderful. I think a second printing is very possible."
Kent sinks a little more into his chair, so deep that his secondhand suit looks like a bag and Perry's sharp eyes almost don't catch the blush creeping up to his curly bangs.
"Thinking is not certainty," Perry says, putting great care into gruffly talking around the cigar in his mouth. "Second prints are for the Meteors winning the Series. Or Batman revealing his identity. If people want to read about Wayne, they'll flip to the business page."
You twist your mouth and mutter to Kent, miffed, "Don't listen to the chief, you're better than the business page."
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Mr. White," you blurt, snapping back to the head of the table. A couple giggles float up from the other journalists.
Kent tentatively raises his hand. Great Caesar's ghost, they're trying again. "I'm giving away an interview opportunity with Superman."
The room explodes. Phones are wagged in Kent's face, people are crowding around the very tight corner where you sit. Kent presses closer to you, and Perry tries not to blow his own gasket at eleven in the morning.
He shouts, "Quiet!" just as Kent says, linking your elbows together, "To her. Superman said there's no other journalist with integrity and wit he'd rather have write about him."
Perry glares down the length of the conference table, working the end of his cigar between his molars with a vengeance. He would be dishonest if he said he wasn't interested. It's rare for Superman to accept interviews with anyone that isn't Kent, and Perry is all about the hero's true story.
You turn to Kent with wide eyes, hissing, "Since when?"
"...S'posed to be a surprise," he mumbles, scratching out something on his legal pad with faux sullenness. "But I agree..."
A grin blooms on your face, all fond and totally worth talking to HR aboutβbut Perry isn't that strict of a boss. You look like you're about to jump onto Kent for an embrace before Steve, two chairs down, whisper-shouts: "Get a room."
Perry guesses that he'll have to chalk this up to Superman's will, and not you and Kent's exhaustingβand frankly, charming, but nobody will hear thatβtag-team of compliments. "Superman, top of the page."
Everybody groans, and twenty laptops snap shut in defeat.
"But chief" βprotests an intern whose ambition far outpaces his mediocre talent.
"Now, get out, and don't call me chief!"
QUALITY TIME with lois lane
"No, Lois, you're seeing things."
"I'm seeing things? Says the one who can't even see that Clark is practically her boyfriend," Lois needles, squinting at you. She props her palm on her kitchen counterβwell, to her best ability, because she...forgot to tidy up before the New Year's Eve party. She's a busy woman, okay?
"Yes!" you exclaim, shucking off the bottlecap on the apple cider. The pop of trapped gas sounds more like a mini firecracker with how much unnecessary force you use.
Someone callsβsounds like Jimmyβover the din of the countdown broadcast playing from her radio and everyone else's voices, "Uh, you guys okay?"
"It's nothing," you respond, then turn back to Lois with your knuckles lightening around the neck of the bottle. Hissed, "I meanβyes, you're seeing things, and no, we're just friends."
You punctuate your denial with a grouchy 'seriously' and a frown.
The derisive chuckle that leaves her mouth is nearly automatic. Really good friends, she thinks. My fuckin' ass.
For god's sake, she's Lois fucking Lane. She's damn right about every hunch, unless the Earth has suddenly flattened and turned upside down. Even then, she would get to the bottom of it and find the culprit to be Mxyzpltk.
"Oh, okay," she says, setting the trap for you to fall for her prying. "So I suppose that defending each other's pitches is nothing?"
"It's what good coworkers do."
"And what about the coffee incident? You basically kissed."
Well. That's an exaggeration.
A few weeks ago, Lois had been tapping her foot and tugging at the strap of her watch as she waited for Clark to dash into the bullpen with her order. She was getting antsyβyou, she, Clark, and Jimmy typically take turns going on morning coffee runs, and since it wasn't her turn, she couldn't get her necessary dose of sugar early enough.
"He's not usually this late," you said, eyeing Lois' unnerved twitching with concern. Of course you know when he's on time, she thought. "I'm gonna look for him."
Of course you're going to look for him. It was fairly obvious that you knew him, were tuned to him a little too well to be just friends. You just...had a connection that was unlike any other.
Lois watched with irritation itching at her neck as you scurried toward the elevators. Just as you turned the corner, Clark rushed out with his specs askew, and she's pretty sure that he was the one who shrieked in shock.
You ended up with coffee and caramel whipped creamβLois lamented the loss of her frappeβsticking the front of your blouse to his button-up shirt. It was pretty compromising, considering your faces kind of smashed into each other as you slipped on the floor.
Clark had broken your fall, an act so predictable that Lois' first instinct was to roll her eyes, and she did upon seeing how his face was two seconds away from whistling like a kettle.
But anyways. You definitely touched your lips to somewhere on his face, even if it wasn't intentional.
Your brows stretch upward with your heavy sigh, reluctant to dredge up the embarrassing memory. "It was an accident. Besides, we didn't basically kiss, it was more of an almost kiss..."
Lois almost leaps off the counter at that bone of a suggestion, but she schools herself so you don't catch on. "So did you kiss after?"
"No!" Your voice is pitched. You unstack six plastic cups and march to the freezer, yanking the door open and briskly shoveling ice into each cup. "Remember? We were in the office the whole time, we couldn't have kissed without everyone seeing."
You tack on with quick blinks, which does nothing to save face, "Hypothetically. Because we're not like that."
"Mhm." It's impossible to hide the fact that she's not convinced. At all. "But you were wiping each other down with Jitters napkins..."
"Shut up," you grumble, kicking the freezer shut.
"And tapping your shoes together during pitch meetings...and sharing sources...and watching shows when you have nothing to write. With less than six inches of space between you," Lois mulls, tapping her chin as she airs out your laundry list of couple activities.
You groan dramatically, tipping your face to the weathered ceiling as you divvy up the bottle of cider. Like everything, you have an excuse locked and loaded. "Clark has a small desk."
She blinks at you innocuously, like she just remembered you're here with her. Teasing, "Oh, I know. Your desk is so much bigger, but you never use it."
Clearly, you aren't buying her act.
"Fine." Lois throws her hands up and pushes off the edge of the counter. She scoops up two cups in each hand, holding them by the rims, as she struts out of the kitchen.
Then, two steps from the doorway and mutters loud enough for only you to hear, product-disclosure-in-commercials style, "But still, that's screaming attachmentβ"
You snatch up a battered dish towel and hurl it at her, but Lois has already sauntered out of range by the time the towel slaps against the wall.
Steve has dragged one of the armchairs closer to the coffee table, where the board game has been set up; his dilute torbie Persephone curls in his lap with her paws tucked under her fluffy belly. Clark is opposite of the couch, on the carpet, and Cat and Jimmy are making space between each other on the cushions.
She passes a cup to everyone but Clark, who says nothing. He's (probably) automatically assumed that you've got it, to which Lois mentally files into 'actions they can't deny without Freudian slips' for later.
She settles between Cat and Jimmy, whose questioning looks burn into the sides of her head. They have a conversation in microexpressions; Cat's meticulously maintained brows twitch in various areas; Jimmy tips his mouth here, then tilts it there, dips it down, and points his lips; and Lois rolls her eyes so much that Steve gives her a weird look.
She shakes her head at the sports editor, and he shrugs, apparently dropping it. Poor Steve, he's never deciphered their silent language of pointed looks and weird faces.
You pad out of the kitchen with annoyance still etched between your brows, but it softens when Clark pats the space to his left on the carpet. Really softens, to the point of being unrecognizable.
You stride over with all the light in the world. You sit with your legs criss-crossed and your knee bumps against his thigh, and a small, fond smile blooms on Clark's face.
Which obviously means nothing. But it surely has to mean something when you keep giving each other fucking tips during gameplay.
Itβs throwing Lois off, honestly. Sheβs not even mad that youβve practically turned a longstanding tradition in this little group into a cute quality-time moment with your not-boyfriendβsheβs pissed about the not-boyfriend part.
Everyone would be so much happier and at peace if you just admitted your feelings.
Clark ends up winning, whichβof course he does. Regardless of collusion, heβs fucking ruthless when it comes to board games.
(Notably, he doesnβt betray you. Lois nearly flips the board over.)
Later, after the countdown reaches zero and you and Clark keep each other at a bashful armβs distance, Jimmy comes up with the brilliant idea of assigning you both to dish duty while everyone else cleans up the rest of her apartment.
As sheβs passing by to throw something in the trash, Lois catches the two of you making quiet conversation by the sink.
Itβs all soft laughs and sincere glances that stay, shoulder bumps and inside jokes with suds up to your elbows. Clarkβs washing, and youβre drying, and the smoothness of how he passes the dishes to your hands with lingering fingers makes Lois unironically imagine your wedding invitations.
βMr. & Mrs. Weβre-Just-Friends-Until-We-Werenβt β RSVP & Save the Date!β Ugh, she can feel the texture of the goddamn cardstock and the silver embossing of the words already.
Next time, sheβll hurl a sprig of mistletoe at you and hope for the best.
GIFTS with cat grant
Cat is, like, a hundredβno, a hundred and twentyβpercent sure that Clark is heads over heels in love with you.
Okay, literally everyone at the Daily Planet thinks so, except for you and Clark, because you're both either just clueless as hell or hiding it. If you are, youβre very good actors.
The latter as a concept stirred in her mind in the middle of a conversation she had with Clark last week, which went along the lines of: what kind of gift would a woman love for a very special fifth anniversaryβ¦of friendship?
Clark went over the fact that for your past four anniversaries, heβd scrounged up the money for some very thoughtful displays of affection, but Cat had already latched her claws into solving his plight faster than she could say βgo Meteors.β
After all, sheβs always had a few ideas on beating:
dinner at a nice Italian restaurant (year one)
the really nice sweater you wear to work on Fridays, your favorite day (year two)
three-day tickets to a coveted Meteors v. Griffins seriesβand the Meteors swept those Gothamite assholes (year three)
a perfume that spent nine months as a tab on your laptop, and heβd somehow discovered it even though you let no one else near your workstation (year four)
But now Clark wants to outdo himself this year. As Steve would say, he needs to knock it out of the ballpark, because your not-relationship has been going on for five years.
Thatβs literally half a decade, so she gets why Clark is so hung up on getting you a gift for the ages. She canβt imagine how heβll fare when the years hit double digits, though.
But now theyβre here, strolling through Metropolisβ famed luxury department store on a Saturday afternoon, and their hands are painfully empty.
Cat has dragged him through a real wringer from nine to twelve. Theyβve been through Prada, Dolce, YSL, Dior, Chanel, Bottega, HermΓ¨s, McQueen, Miu Miuβit would probably take ten whole minutes to list all the stores theyβve hit.
Whatever. The point is, Catβs jasmine matcha latte from a small business is in dire need of a refill, Clarkβs hair is literally straightening out with misery, and they havenβt got a whiff of your perfect gift.
βI justβ βClark tongues the pocket of his cheek, brows scrunching as he considers the sleek tile floor, and fishes for the right wordsβ βnone of this stuff really works, you know? I feel like Iβm buying friendship instead of celebrating it.β
Oh, yeah. Celebrating friendship for sure, Cat thinks. God, she should pitch this true story to a movie studio and start building her own media empire.
βWell, thereβs still a few stores we havenβt seen,β she says, breezy. There has to be something sparkly enough for youβmaybe a necklace, or a neat purse. βGucciβs at the end of the mall, but we should take a little break, donβt you think?β
Heβs beyond overjoyed, instantly melting at the prospect of some rest. βPlease.β
Catβs sipping on her fresh jasmine matcha latte with regular ice and less sugar and trying to post a picture of it to her story; Clark is glancing around the shop, likely feeling out of place with how heβs working his thumbs over his knuckles. Heβs ignoring the black sesame milk tea with agar boba sweating rings onto the table space before him.
A pop song drifts from the sound system, and layered over it is the chaotic din of the blenders and whisks being firmly tapped against bowls, and thereβs the faint sound of video game music coming from the cute, aesthetic claw machines in the corner, andβ
Oh. Yeah. Another thing to add to her list of totally not weird or suspicious activities: youβve been blatantly watching shows together at work. Lois complains about it incessantly.
βAnd that claw machineβ¦β Clark trails off, almost in a trance as he shoots up while fumbling for his wallet.
βWhat about it?β Cat asks, dogging on his long strides to the little corner stuffed with machines. A glass box full of colorful plushies innocently sits before them.
And before Cat can stop him, he feeds a five-dollar bill into the claw machine.
She has never seen him possessed like this.
βHow do you even know thatβs aβTopi? Togipi? Thereβs only a foot!β
βI just know,β comes the patient answer. Must be the journalistβs instinct. He wastes a turn trying to move one of the plushies out of the way. βShucksβ¦β
βClark, itβs impossible,β she laments, shaking her drink to stir up any particles that have settled. βEven if you do manage to clear everything on top, itβs still rigged to make you lose.β
βNothingβs impossible, Cat.β He says it in that same tone Superman would take if someone doubted his ability to save an entire country. But thatβs a strange thought, because thereβs no way Clark could be Superman.
To punctuate it, the plushie atop the supposed Togepiβitβs yellow, so it could be Pikachu, but Catβs knowledge is ultimately limitedβtopples into the chute. Clark pumps his fist in celebration and mutters about psychic ducks and two more turns remaining.
Thatβs just about the only lucky occurrence they stumble upon. Half an hour later, heβs fed at least twenty dollars into the reader, Catβs accompanied by what Clark calls Psyduck, Oddish, and Rioluβall of which you supposedly find adorableβand the Togepi is too round for the claw.
βLast one,β he swears, cheeks ruddy and blue eyes all earnest as the machine eats up a one-dollar bill. She made him stop using fivers a couple turns ago in an attempt to wean him off. βI know sheβll adore it.β
He twitches the joystick with the utmost care, positioning the claw over the Togepi that has revealed itself after a harrowing hundred-something attempts. Clark goes a little to the right, inspects, then a little backward, and just a jolt to the left.
He runs out of time in his adjustments. Of course he does. Another shucks almost falls off his lips, but he bites it off at the sh-uhhhh because the tines of the claw stick. They fucking stick and like a miracle, Togepi tumbles into the chute.
Cat nearly screams. Clark lets out a little squeak of satisfaction and squeezes that damn egg-looking thing so hard that he might as well be pretending it was you.
βYouβre the best, Cat,β he grins, all lopsided and grateful and heart-eyed at the success of his endeavors to please you.
She loads the other plushies into his arms with an equally big smile, albeit a little exhausted. βItβs all you, genius.β
βStill, you helped me out a lot,β he breathes, shoulders slumping with relief. βIf you need anything, Iβll do my best to help you too.β
Cat considers it and thinks of all the secret cataloguing sheβd been doing as they searched for a luxury gift you didnβt need in the end.
βWellβ¦I might need help with carrying a few shopping bags.β
ACTS OF SERVICE with steve lombard
βWoah,β Steve awes, gaze fixed on the rash of red-pen edits marking up the proof copy on your desk. He leans against the desk divider. βWhoβs bitching βbout your article? Is it Marcus? Iβll beat his ass for you.β
You laugh a little, no doubt imagining Steve whaling on that pesky intern whose ego far outsizes his ability to actually write. For godβs sake, Marcus is one βsnarky comment using the wrong context of a wordβ away from being thrown off the top of the big bronze planet on the roof.
And he does that often. Steveβll be the first to tow his ass up the staircase.
βItβs actually Clarkβs,β you clarify, turning your head to reveal the red pen tucked behind your ear. You're petting a cream-colored pillow in your lapβnever mind, that's Clark's nerd plushie. βAnd Iβm helping him edit.β
Steve blinks. βShit, really?β
βYeah, really.β You flash him a weird look, like you think heβs lying to you about something. βSteve, we do this all the time.β
βWe?β he presses, smoothing his fingers over his mustacheβa nervous habit when heβs in disbelief.
βYes, Clark and I edit each otherβs articles,β you say, slowly. βDidβdid you not know that?β
βN-ope.β Extra emphasis on the front of the word. Before, Steve didn't really notice things that aren't sports-related; he knows that you and Clark definitely have something going on, but it's exclusively informed by word-of-mouth from his other co-workers.
But now, courtesy of Lois' advice, he's treating this like a baseball game. Right now, you're at bat and Clark's on a base, and you're trying to advance him toward making a run; aka, you are performing an act of service to make your not-boyfriend's life a little easier.
See, he's pretty observant once he frames his surroundings in an athletic context.
Last month, the Daily Planet was shorthanded because you were out sick. Though they were facing a penalty kill (the Metropolis Herald had poached an exclusive scoop you were supposed to get, and the chief was not happy), Clark still clocked out of work a little earlier so he could bring you soup like any good teammate would.
And two weeks ago, you did the equivalent of a jersey swap for your five-year friendship anniversary. He'd given you the egg-looking plush you're squeezing right nowβyou'd gasped and squeezed it flush to your chestβand you'd surprised him with a double-sided cassette mixtape you spent days learning to make.
It's really sweet and romantic. He also wishes Lois hadn't given him that tip, because watching the two of you dance around your true feelings has been exceptionally excruciating.
"Anyways," you're saying, and Steve blinks back to the present, "he has mine on his desk right nowβno, don't peek, I don't want to see how much work I have to get done."
Too late. He's already teetering on his tiptoes to catch a glance of your article proof on Clark's desk, which is noticeably missing its usual occupant. It is...on the side Steve knows is meant for the 'done' work, complete with a smiley face scribbled on a blue sticky note.
"He's done with it."
Your groan sounds tortured, especially when you tack on a hand dragging down your face. "Great."
Eyes heavy with resignation, you click through your computer to navigate back to your document, grousing under your breath about needing to use up your PTO, even though it's only April. Then, like a switch has been flipped, your frown breaks into a smile.
"What?"
"Nothing," you say quickly, still letting the grin linger. "Justβhe didn't have to."
Steve cranes his neck around to stare at your screen. "Huh."
The document is already marked up with a hundred suggestions, all of which you only need to resolve with a tap of the mousepad. Editing made easier. Clark just went ahead and transferred the proofs, knowing you'd be reluctant to go through all the changes manually.
He even left little encouraging comments on what he really loved about your article. Awww.
"Fuck, he really didn't have to," you breathe again, settling into a pensive mood as you cover your mouth with a hand. You turn to Steve with your eyes shining brighter than they have the entire week. With plaintive admiration, "He's already got so much on his plate and he's doing this shit."
"Is...that bad?" Steve asks, smoothing the ends of his mustache.
"No, no." Shaking your head, you begin to double-check all the suggestions before you resolve them. "It's justβClark's always helping me out and I wish I did more to help him."
He decides to take the leapβreservations against meddling be damned. "Well, maybe that's just how he loves you."
You flash him a dubious look, brows all cocked at skeptical angles and mouth flattened into a line.
"I mean, maybe he likes doing this for you, just like how you always speak up for him during pitch meetings." Steve speaks quickly, almost afraid that you're going to wave him off if he stops. It's only been a month since he started picking up on your attraction to each other, which is ironically unsubtle to everyone but you and Clark.
The torture is enough to make him break his pact against interfering with the game, for god's sake.
"Jeez, you got each other gifts for your friendship anniversaries. Youβyou're really close and spend your free time together watching shows. He looks at you like you're the reason the sun exists, kid. If Clark Kent does not love you, well," Steve pauses to thumb at the crease between his eyebrows with a sigh, "I'll have to drag him up to the roof and hold him over the edge until he realizes it."
You blow out a steady stream of air as you mull it over. "Wow, that's...a lot to process, butβ"
"Hey." Clark cuts in like a ball driving into deep left field, practically croaking out the last vowel when he sees the worry lingering in your expression. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," you chirp, flashing a quick smile at him. "Just, I didn't expect you to finish so quickly."
He stumbles over his breath and returns the smile, albeit like some shy bastard and not a guy who's going after your heart. Scratch that, he already has your heart. "No, noβseriously, it's okay. I needed, uh, to get another cup of coffee so I got you one too."
Another Styrofoam cup is set next to your monitor, so gently that the steaming liquid inside doesn't make a single ripple. Very fancy schmancy of Clark Kent, Steve thinks to himself.
You beam at him with some bashful glow lighting up your eyes. "With sugar?"
"Half a packet, just the way you like it."
"Thanks," you whisper, and your eyes loiter on him even after he gives you two dorky thumbs up and walks back to his desk; he nearly gets leveled by a stray chair, and you chuckle softly when he rights himself and pretends nothing happened.
Steve gestures furiously at the cup and whisper-shouts, "I'm tellin' you!"
You let out a dreamy sigh and rub your knuckles against your face so hard that wrinkles form on your forehead. In half-disbelieving breathlessness, "Holy fuck."
PHYSICAL TOUCH with jimmy olsen
"Oh my god, I can't look," Jimmy squeaks, shoving his face in any direction that doesn't involve looking at you or Clark.
Rather, you and Clark, standing near the back wall and speaking to each other very seriously with your arms crossed and bottom lips practically fraying with how often the two of you are worrying them.
"Jesus Christ, Steve, why would you do that?" he says in a pitched voice. Steve rolls his eyes and continues yanking the lace into his Rawlings baseball glove, which is fresh out of the sporting goods store and probably won't see even a second of use.
"He set things in motion, Jimmy," chides Lois, voice low. She works her jaw back and forth, trying to get a feel for your far-off conversation. "Good man, Steve...wait, I think Clark's blushing."
Cat squeals in excitement, heels clicking lightly on the floor with the little shimmy that accompanies it.
Jimmy tries to make a point by staying turned around, but he hesitates for a second before really committing to the bit. After all, he's had to endure just as much anticipation as the rest of them.
"They're on the other side of the floor, Lois."
"Nonsense, they're definitely getting together today."
Cat blows an airy raspberry and inspects her fresh gel manicure. "Well, it's a good thing I got these babies done yesterday. This is an occasion that calls for a photoshoot."
Then, she slams her ridiculously strong hands onto his chair and wrests him around to watch with the others. "Turn around, Bartholomew Olsen, you're gonna miss everything!"
"Never should've told you my government name," he mumbles, dropping his cheek against his hand.
You tilt your head and nod slightly in understanding as Clark palms his napeβhis skin is almost sunburnt with how red he's turningβand explains something to you. Hopefully his feelings, because who knows what Lois would do if you proved her wrong and didn't 'get together' by the end of the workday.
(Probably plan a party and lock the two of you in a supply closet.)
Jimmy groans and reaches back, fumbling for the pair of binoculars he keeps in his desk drawer for emergency purposes. You never know if you need to spot Superman in the midst of a battle with interdimensional beings of destruction.
"Good idea," Steve appreciates, and he darts away to get his own.
The corners of your lips tip up quietly, affectionately, the longer Clark speaks (he better be confessing, dear god), and soon enough, you're inching toward him with a knowing twinkle in your eyes. Clark leans closer to hear what you're saying, and with a cheeky smile, you whisper something that flushes him scarlet.
He buries a short laugh into his broad palm before taking the last step and squeezing you into his arms. You rock and sway slightly, to the rhythm of your own tune; your hands smooth over the back of his suit comfortingly.
Clark presses a sweet, fond kiss to the crown of your head and lays his cheek over it to seal the deal. One of his hands is splayed over the back of your shoulder, and his thumb rubs circles over the blade. It's tender enough to be a bruise, and he looks like he knows it with the stupid, uncontrollable, lovesick chuckling that's shaking his wide shoulders.
Cat gasps, perhaps a little too loud.
Enough to be incriminating, for sure, because you break apart with matching frowns. Steve, who's just come running back with his own binoculars, turns tail and skitters back to his desk.
Based on his poor skills at lip-reading, you might be saying something like, "Are those fucking binoculars?"
Clark is probably correcting you: "Fudging, and yeah, what the hay?"
You shake your head with a derisive snort before Lois roughly shoves the binoculars down and forces him to duck down.
"The fuck are you doing, this is a covert operation," she hisses.
"They spotted usβthere's no point."
Lois pokes her head up and scowls. With a hint of grousing in her remark, "Shit, they ducked into the archive closet."
She turns to him with narrowed eyes and a quicksilver glint of revenge in her smirk.
"No, no, nonononoβ"
Ten tense seconds later, Jimmy presses his ear against the wooden door of the archive closet with great care. Lois forced him to toe off his shoes because they squeak on the floor, so now his socked toes are wriggling in an attempt to adjust to the unforgivingly cold tile.
Christ, this is a humiliation ritual in itself.
"Please, Clark," you're sighing. You giggle in time with Clark's low chuckle, and is that...?
He thinks you might be kissing passionately among other suspicious sounds that aren't muffled by the door, and Jimmy turns back to Lois with a pained, begging expression. Please, please, please give the signal to extricate himself. He's very sorry for not being discreet about spying on you.
He also did not know Clark Kent had that dog in him, but that's a conversation for another time.
With a frantic sort of enthusiasm, Lois flaps her hands in an effort to signal him back. He almost slips like a Looney Tunes character, complete with cartoonish sound effects, as he scurries across the marble floor in his socks.
(Fuck-ass athletic socks and their 70% polyester blend. Mark his words, he's switching to wool next winter.)
"Holy shit," he puffs, heart thundering in his chest from the near-death experience of running at work without shoes. Blood rushes to his face, making him feel gross and sweaty, "Oh my god, Lois, they're up to diabolical shit in there!"
"Keep it down!" she scoffs, fisting the back of his neckline and pulling him behind the desk.
They crouch there for a few minutes, peeking over the edge to watch the door; Jimmy mutters under his breath, recapping the (supposed) illicit consummation of your new romantic relationship in the archive closet.
When the coast is somewhat clear, the panel of wood cracks from the frame by an inch. It pauses for a moment, but soon enough, the hinges squeak and...
You and Clark emerge, hardly managing your not-so-secret glances without bursting into fits of giggles. The stupid thing is, you're both neat.
As in, probably-weren't-having-sex, fooling-the-whole-office, no-stray-hairs-or-wrinkled clothes neat.
Fingers interlockedβso tightly that Jimmy's half-afraid one of you would float away if you so much as loosened upβyou tug Clark to his desk with a soft, contented smile. The man is blushing, an honest-to-god deep pink that disappears beneath his collar.
"Shut up!" Jimmy presses his fingers against his eyelids and takes five seconds to breathe. "I did not saunter."
"Whatever, choir boy," she mutters wryly. Then she bites her lip, cheeks twitching in the way that tells him she's trying to strangle a smile before it blooms. "'Sides, I think they figured themselves out."
Jimmy snaps his gaze back to Clark's desk.
The corners of your mouth are quirked up with all the warm fondness in the world as he presses a sweet, reverent kiss to your knuckles, right over where your hands are still joined.
"Idiots," Lois grouses with a small but amused shake of her head.
Jimmy grunts in agreement. "Took them fuckin' long enough."
notes: been a minute since my last clark fic im on my 9th life LMAO
++ please lmk if u enjoyed, comments & rbs are greatly appreciated <33
Summary: When you fly to Gotham to see your boyfriend from Metropolis, what was supposed to be a nice quiet evening for you both, gets interrupted by some date crashers.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Kent!Reader
Word Count: 3.0k
Content Warning: FLUFF, slice of life, Clark Kentβs daughter! Reader, secret relationship, they get discovered, suggestive content, cursing, second person, no use of y/n
A/N: This fic went through 3 scraps before I finally found a plot I liked LMAO. This fic is for this request by @h0pelesslydevoted ty for it I had so much fun writing it and sorry it took so long to get too. As always I hope you enjoy my lovelies <333
Floating down onto the fire escape, you sigh at the sight of the main light being on. The only flaw in your (secret) relationship with Jason being that he was a big light type of guy.
Every time you came over that changed though. It was a mission you were on, to slowly change that habit of his. So, after you slowly open the window and sneak in, your first course of action is to fly toward the light switch.
After shutting it off, you head over to the lamp next to his bookshelf and turn it on. The environment change was instant. The big light on his roof always made it feel like you were in some sterile hospital, but when the warm light was casted through the beige lampshade, his apartment felt like home.
Thatβs where the difference in how you both grew up came into play. He grew up in the prison that was called the Batcave, and you grew up in a cozy metropolis apartment with summers in Kansas.
While you didnβt necessarily inherit X-ray vision from your father, you did inherit super hearing. Which is how you knew Jason was in the shower. You could hear the water droplets ricocheting off his skin, and the soft humming coming from him as Billy Joel played from the CD player in his room.
You smiled at the sound. Jason was so much softer than the world gave him credit for. He wasnβt this violent crime lord that heβd tried to convince Gotham he was. Jason Todd was a guy who reads classic literature and left notes for you in between pages. He was the guy who bought your favorite candles so he could have a piece of you when you were cities apart. Jason was a guy who secretly hummed to Billy Joel in the shower because on your first date, βSheβs Always a Womanβ played in the diner as you laughed, and he took it as a sign that you were his future.
Jason Todd was not the broken boy he thought he was, he was a romantic.
Walking toward the coffee table you pick up the candle to see what heβd moved on too. Vanilla and Cinnamon was the choice for the week and you smiled while reading the label. Setting it back on the counter you squint for a second before lighting it with your heat vision.
You knew tonight had been a particularly rough patrol from when he called you earlier. So, you packed a night bag and flew over. He had most of the products you liked here already, but you couldnβt sleep without your blanket. Dropping the bag on the couch, you head to the small kitchen a few steps away.
While waiting for him to finish his shower, you made some hot chocolate. In the kitchen, you navigate it with a practiced ease of countless nights you both spent here. Times with his arms around your waist or vice versa. The memories spark a smile on your face. When you open both packets, you pour some of the chocolate powder from your packet into his. He tried to hide it, but he had a sweet tooth that rivaled your fatherβs, and well who was going to stop you from spoiling him.
After topping it with whip cream and marshmallows, you hear the water finally shut off. Itβs only another minute before you hear the padding of his feet against the floor and he appears in the doorframe and- wow.
It didnβt matter how many times you had seen Jason shirtless, heat went straight to between your legs every time. His hair was half dry plastered on his forehead, still dripping slightly. He had nothing except a white towel wrapped around his waist. His torso was still damp with some droplets of water tracing every muscle from his shoulders to his chest, down to his v-line. He looked like your favorite desert, a glazed donut.
Tonightβs going to be fun.
His eyes find yours and your stomach does a flip. He was smiling at you so wide that those famous dimples made a show-stopping appearance.
βI thought I heard you come in.β
You scoff with a laugh following. βYour dumbass hasnβt seen me in two weeks and thatβs the first thing you have to say to me.β
He snorts while you walk around the kitchen island to meet him halfway. Youβre leaning back against it with your hands gripping the edge of the counter and a raised eyebrow, while heβs towering over you.
βYou know I missed you pretty girl.β He whispers huskily.
βDoesnβt sound like it,β you sass him and he sighs. Your last name may have been Kent, but you were a Lane through and through.
He leans down and leaves you a feather light kiss. A mere brush of lips as a tempting preview of what was awaiting for you tonight.
He pulls away and finally smells it, glancing past you. With an innocent look in his eyes he turns to you and asks softly, βYou made hot cocoa?β
βYeah," you answer with a shrug. "I thought you could use it. I know youβve had a rough week.β
He always tried to act like he didnβt need anyone- that he was self-sufficient, and he was. He took care of himself when he shouldβve had parents worrying about him. He always made sure everyone was okay before even thinking how he was doing. There was a beauty and a certain type of grief in that. You never wanted to overwhelm him with it, but you always made small efforts to take care of him. You had to ease it in for him with little things, like scratching his back or washing his hair. Then you could move to buying him take out some nights to make sure heβd eat or staying with him despite not wanting to talk. And sometimes, it was something as simple as making cocoa.
These were the times when he was unguarded, when the love you had for each other was about to burst from his chest.
βI love you,β he kisses your forehead. βSo muchβ, he murmurs against it.
Your hands leave where they were propping you up against the countertop to around his neck, holding you against him. βI love you too, Jason.β
Just for a flicker of time, everything fades away while holding each other. No crazy doctors, no war criminals, no army generals from other planets. It was just the two of you holding each other in the kitchen of his apartment. The smell of his shampoo and the feeling of your heart beating against his, quieting every haunted thought of Gotham. Tonight you were just a Super and a Bat learning to love each other.
Who wouldβve thought?
When you both pull away, your hands leave his neck and trace his torso, like youβve done a million times before. He was so warm, and you were so cold- it mustβve been a Kryptonian thing. When your hand lays flat against his abs, a shiver runs down his spine.
You raise an eyebrow in amusement, and he raises his with a challenge.
βSomeoneβs eager.β He murmurs with a smirk.
You hum back in acknowledgement while your hand slides lower, watching the red spread across his face. βMaybe I am, but youβre not getting any until you drink your hot chocolate.β He snickers. βI donβt know why youβre laughing, itβs called Hot Chocolate- not cold. So, youβre going to drink it while itβs still hot.
He shakes his head, his laugh still echoing in your head. βThere come in those Lane genes again,β he pushes your hair behind your ears and then salutes. βRight on boss.β
Your mouth drops in mock betrayal and then you push him off you. There was a valiant effort in making sure not to push him too hard; a mistake youβd made once and accidentally sent him flying into the wall.
He had to come up with some excuse on why he was in an arm sling for a week to the bats.
You donβt make it very far before he grabs your arm. Β
βCome βereβ he laughs and pulls you back into him. βIβm only joking yβknow that.β
You refuse to hold him. Keeping your arms at your sides, and looking everywhere but his face.
His hand rests on your jaw and turns it back, so youβll meet his eyes again. βBaby,β he starts earnestly. βYou know I love it when you boss me around, Iβd be your minion forever if you asked me too.β
βOh, you better like it Todd.β He smiles at your use of his last name, realizing he wasnβt actually on the shit list tonight.
βI do.β He drops a kiss to your nose and smirks. βYou gonna tell me what to do tonight.β
Your cheeks are dusted with a faint pink at the innuendo but you donβt let it throw you off. βYeah I am.β
βReally?β Heβs amused, but you can see the lust pooling in his green eyes when your hand lands on his shoulder again. βWhatβre you gonna have me do?β
βOh, I have a few ideas Boy Wonder.β The smirk on your face grows as your hand falls down his torso and teases where his waist meets the towel.
His eyes darken before four figures burst through Jasonβs window.
He jumps in front of you, and you instantly shoot into the air behind him ready to laser them down- when you recognize them.
The Bats.
All color drains from your face instantly.
Itβs silent for a beat then they read the situation.
The shouting commences.
βWhat the fuck is wrong with you guys?β
βThe alarm was tripped-β
βYou werenβt answering-β
βYouβre with KENT?β
Slowly, you lower yourself back to the floor behind Jason and take solace in being blocked by his large frame for a moment. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
All of Jasonβs brothers were here, with the Big Bat himself- he was actually the only one who hadnβt said anything besides telling Oracle that they didnβt need back up. You didnβt even want to think or consider who back up was, this audience was mortifying enough.
After bracing yourself for a moment you step around Jason to be next to him in the midst of the yelling.
You canβt see it through the cowl, but you can feel the way Bruceβs eyes are on you through the white slits of his eyes.
Truly being your fatherβs daughter, you raise your hand awkwardly as they all turn to you and wave with a simple βHeyyyyβ
It didnβt help as much as you were hoping for it too, because now they all just stared at you dumbfounded.
Them the questions started.
βHow long have you guys been dating?β
βAre you guys actually together?β
βWhyβd you keep it a secret?β
You open your mouth to try and answer and then purse your lips. Turning to Jason for any help, but he hasnβt taken his eyes off his brothers. It was then that you remembered that Jason was in fact still in a towel, and theyβd caught you in that moment.
If any deity was listening to you, you hoped that they would grant you a Gotham emergency that would pull the Bats away.
Then the worst happens, Bruce starts talking and drops a bomb of a question.
βDo your parents know youβre here?β
Your mouth drops and Jason scoffs. βAre you fucking kidding me, B?β
You swallow before answering. βWeβre both legal adults, you know that right?β
βDoesnβt answer my question.β Was all he was willing to offer while insisting.
A beat of silence with an echo of Billy Joel still playing from the bedroom, and then.
βMy mom knows Iβm here.β
That answer opened Pandoraβs box and Bruceβs eyes widened under the cowl, you were willing to bet hundreds that his eyebrow shot up too.
βAnd where does Clark think you are?β
You felt sixteen all over again. Here in this interrogation from Batman- who just so happened to be your boyfriendβs pseudo-father figure-, you were debating if the interrogations from your mom were really all that bad.
You cross your arms and your eyes flicker to Tim for a second. You knew where this was about to go. Letting out a deep breath, your eyes go back to Bruce before answering. βHe thinks Iβm staying with Conner at the farm.β
By the way his posture straightens, you can tell Tim is now a lot more interested in the conversation. Bruce beats him in asking the next question. βOkay, and where do Conner and the Kentβs think you are?β
βB, leave her alone.β Jason says, voice hard taking a small step forward. βStop interrogating her. She's not some fucking supervillain, she's my girlfriend that you've met and had actual conversations with before.β
At his small outburst, your hand falls on his bicep to try and get his attention. His eyes don't leave Bruce's. You squeeze his arm a tiny bit, so he looks at you and sees the truth in your eyes. βJason, really- itβs okay.β
He holds your gaze for a minute before huffing out an annoyed breath. You notice he's starting to get antsy and his tongue is pointing at his cheek to avoid another retort at his family. Turn back to Bruce, you swallow before admitting.
βConner, Ma, and Pa know Iβm here.β
βWHAT?!β
Dick Grayson was staring at you in shock, then back at Jason with betrayal on his face. βThe Kentβs knew before we did?β
Jasonβs eyebrows shoot up in surprise that heβs asking that question. Waving his arm around as if putting each of them and their reactions on display, he answers with his own question. βAnd why do you think that is genius?β
That shut him up real fast.
Bruce seemed to still be processing the fact that the Kentβs knew, when you chip in.
βIf it makes you feel any better,β youβre directing the comfort to Dick, and he turns to you at the sound of your voice. βTheyβre the only ones that know, Jon and my dad still donβt know anything.β
βAre you sure that Jon is not aware that you two are involved?β Damian asked from his fatherβs side.
βYes,β you answered, giving him a pointed look. Besides Jason, he was the one you were the most familiar with. You couldnβt even begin to count how many play dates you had supervised with both of them over the years. βAnd itβs going to stay that way, because the moment Jon finds out, heβs going to run and tell my dad.β
Jonathan Samuel Kent had many virtues, keeping a secret was not one of them.
Damian huffed at that, not being able to dispute it knowing you were right.
βThat doesnβt make sense though.β Tim started. βKon also sucks at keeping secrets and he hasnβt told me anything.β
βYeah well Kon sucks at keeping secrets until I got dirt over him.β
Bruceβs interest peeks again. βWhat possible leverage could you have over Superboy?β
Making sure to pointedly avoid Timβs gaze to not give them away, you answer. βWell, Iβm not the only Kent hiding a relationship.β
As expected, the boy with Red in his vigilante name, flushes almost instantly to the color before it drains from his face. He now remembers what you werenβt blessed to forget. That one time you spent the weekend at the farm in Smallville and unknowingly walked into the barn to the both of them havingβ¦ relations.
βWho-β Dick tries to ask, and Jason puts his hand up.
βOkay thatβs enough from you guys.β You suspected there was only a certain amount of time left before Jason began to get tired of them, and they just hit that mark. βYouβre going to leave my apartment, and not speak about this to anyone," then he motions between the both of you. "Weβre going to go back to our date, and we can talk about this more another time, okay?β
You bit the inside of your cheeks to hide the laugh. You did notice earlier that he kept retying the towel around his waist to try and hide the arousal from before his family cockblocked him.
Damian and Tim scrunched their faces in disgust, remembering what they walked into. Dick seemed to grow a wickedly mischievous grin as if heβd just been handed a whole book worth of material to tease Jason with. The three boys left before Bruce, who kept a stoic face during the whole interaction. Then right before he climbs out the shattered window he turns back to you both.
βFor the record, I am happy for you two.β A breath and then, βIβll pay for them to fix the window tomorrow.β
Jason mumbles a thanks and you wish them good night.
You two turn to each other and in the ridiculousness of the situation, you laugh. Full on bending over, clutching your stomach while cackling. At the sight, Jason feels like he can breathe again and laughs with you.
He was terrified of you meeting his family, knowing they were going to be crazy and intense about it, but you did it. You finally got it over with, and you both came out relatively unscathed- with the exception of his windows. Β
When you finally stand at your full height again, you meet his eyes. Heβs looking at you like youβre a god heβd worship forever.
βIβm sorry the hot chocolate got cold.β He says while taking a quick peek at the sad mugs before turning back to you.
You smile and shake your head. βItβs okay, Jason- your super hot Kryptonian girlfriend has heat vision, remember?β
With that he kisses you again, picking back up where you both left off before getting interrupted.
Both his hands are holding your face, and the kiss is deep enough that you feel it in your stomach. Then his hands move down to your waist and he picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as if it was a natural reaction while letting out a startled laugh as he starts in the direction of the bedroom.
When he shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed, your eyes darken. Looking up at him from your spot, you lick your lips when he drops the towel.
pairing: jason todd x fem! reader, platonic!damian wayne x fem!reader, platonic!tim drake x fem!reader
summary: It was supposed to be a routine patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. Well, things don't always go as planned. Now Damian and Tim had to keep Jason from finding out that his girlfriend had been turned into a cat, a cute, fluffly cat.
word count: 1.2k
warning(s): English is not my first language, not proofread, no use of y/n.
Silence and tension hung heavy in the Batcave. It had been over half an hour since the small group had returned from their patrol. The streets of Gotham had finally reached that peak of silence just before dawn.
βHeβs going to kill us.β
βHe wonβt kill us if he doesnβt find out about this.β
Damianβs statement put Timβs fears to rest; Timβs hair was tousled, and he had a twitch in his eye from the stress that had built up in just a few minutes.
A growl sounded below them.
They both looked down. A pair of piercing eyes glared at them angrily.
βAnd you wonβt tell him about this.β
Another growl was heard, but this time two fangs were visible.
βOh, God,β Tim exclaimed, pulling off his mask and pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. βJason is going to kill us.β
βTodd wonβt find out.β
βAnd how can you be so sure of that? Look at her!β he said, pointing with both hands at the cat in front of them. βThey turned her into a cat, and we donβt know how to reverse it!β
βDrake,β Damian exclaimed irritably. βJason wonβt be back for another two days; we have more than enough time to figure this out.β Damianβs gaze shifted to the white-furred animal with black spots. βMaybe we can bribe her with tuna.β
The cat hissed at what she considered a degrading comment about tuna.
βTt. Calm down. Weβll call Zatanna first thing tomorrow and sort this out.β
Tim sighed wearily and nodded at Damianβs words.
βItβd be best if you stayed tonight. Itβll be easierβ¦ for everyone.β
Ever since Bruce was a child, it had been perfectly normal to see Alfred walking through the hallways of Wayne Manor, cleaning and tidying things up.
What wasn't a common sight, however, was a cat trying to reach the doorknob of one of the manor's many doors, trying to open it.
Alfred let out a sigh.
βMaster Damian really needs to start exercising some self-control around animals.β
With patience and grace, he made his way toward the door, while the cat waited for the butler. Alfred turned the doorknob, and the animal wasted no time in entering the room.
βI should remind Master Jason to tidy his room,β he muttered to himself. βOr at least ask him to let me do it.β
As the butler thought aloud, his gaze never left the cat, which was slipping between Jasonβs clothes on the bed.
With her tiny paws, she gathered the clothes together, and when she decided sheβd had enough, she lay down on top of them, relaxing her little body as if letting out a sigh with her body language.
Alfredβs eyebrows shot up in a frown. βInteresting.β
The man couldn't help but notice the strange detail around the cat's eyes. A perfect line around each eye, strangely reminding him of Jason's girlfriend and the eyeliner she wore every time they met.
Not wanting to get involved in another vigilante problem, he decided to simply pretend he hadnβt seen anything.
He left the door ajar, just enough so that Jasonβs girlfriend could come and go freely from the room.
Tim and Damian were running all over the manor, searching for the suddenβand temporaryβmember of the family.
βWhere is she?!β
As they frantically rushed through the rooms, they disrupted all the order Alfred had worked so hard to maintain.
When they reached the second floor, they stopped abruptly upon seeing Alfred.
βAlfred, by any chance havenβt youβ?β
βDonβt finish that question, Master Tim,β he said wearily. βWhat youβre looking for should be in Master Jasonβs room.β
Without another word, the butler left, leaving the two young men alone in the long hallway. And without wasting any more time, they both headed for Jasonβs room.
βCan you see her?β
They both started moving around the room, not caring if they made a mess of it. That was the last thing on their minds.
βWhere the hell did she go?β
Tim picked up the pile of clothes on the bed and carelessly tossed it onto the floor so he could search through the sheets.
A loud meow of surprise and indignation echoed through the room.
Both boys turned their heads toward the source of the sound.
Two pointed black ears poked out from among the clothes, and soon a white body covered in black spots appeared.
βIβm sorry,β Tim apologized, murmuring your name.
The cat snorted indignantly.
How dare they toss you into the air like that when you were sleeping so peacefully among your boyfriend's clothes?
Oh, you would never have thought of something like that, but you were hoping someone would come over so you could bite their hand.
The sound of an engine cutting off in the driveway caught the attention of the three people in the room.
Damian and Tim were sitting on a couch, far away from where she was. Even though the cat had already bitten them when they got careless trying to lift her off the floor, they didnβt want to take any more chances.
The three of them looked expectantly toward the door, hoping to see Zatanna so they could resolve this once and for all.
But what appeared was far worse, in Damian and Timβs words.
An excited meow echoed through the room the moment Jason appeared in the doorway. The catβs small, furry paws slid off the armchair and pushed off, landing on Jasonβs chest, its claws digging in slightly to keep from falling.
βWhat the hell?β the newcomer grumbled. βCome here and get this thing out of here, you little demon.β
An annoyed growl escaped her lips. How dare he call you a thing?
Jason met her gaze.
Just like with Alfred, he furrowed his brow when he noticed the eyeliner on both her eyes, highlighting the color of her eyes that had him so smitten.
Jason shifted his gaze to both boys, then back to her. He stayed that way for a few seconds, until his brain managed to connect the dots.
βDoll?β
A meow was the answer he needed to confirm that it was his girlfriend.
βWhat have you done?β Jason asked the two men, his annoyance evident in his eyes and the tone of his voice. Meanwhile, he cradled his girlfriend in his arms as she purred, happy to be there.
βIt was an accident, Todd.β
Tim also chimed in, trying to calm things down. βZatanna is just a few minutes away; we were waiting for her.β
βYeahβ¦β Damian said. βWe thought it was her at the door. What are you doing here, Todd? You were supposed to arrive tomorrow.β
βMy mission ended early,β he replied simply. He looked at his girlfriend, transformed into a cat, sleeping comfortably on his arm. βAnd when I didnβt see my girlfriend at home, I figured sheβd be hereβ¦ but I didnβt expect to find her like this.β
With a hint of hesitation, he stroked her behind the ears, receiving a soft, contented purr in return.
βStop laughing, Jason!β the woman pleaded, exasperated. βItβs not funny! Your brothers fed me nothing but tuna for two days! Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?β
βBut you looked so cute.β
The woman slapped his chest with her hand, trying to get her boyfriend to stop laughing.
βMaybe we should get a cat,β he said out of the blue, βthat way youβll have a friend the next time this happens.β
She grumbled in annoyance.
βThatβs it! Iβm going to ask Zatanna to turn you into a fish, so I can flush you down the toilet!β
jjk fantasy au, fae!sukuna x witch!reader x fae!gojo
general content warnings for this fic: minors do not interact, dead dove: do not eat, canon-typical violence, murder, cannibalism, dubious consent, noncon, angst, kidnapping, blood, torture, power imbalance, period sex, dacryphilia, yandere, possessive behavior, religious themes, animal death
