Zayne tries to run every morning. Even when you are cozy in bed, warm in your cocoon of blankets. Zayne will rise out of bed and go on a run. This morning you woke up early though. Usually, you’re still in bed when he comes back, but today you’ve migrated your bundle of blankets to the couch.

The sofa that gives you a perfect view of the front door. The very same one Zayne walks into, taking off his shoes. Your eyes glaze over his body. Tight-fitted black shirt, hair tousled with sweat, and his shorts that end right above the knee.

“You run every morning looking like that?” You smile from the couch, leaning over the arm rest. Zayne tugs out his earphone,

“What?”

“You run. Every morning, looking like that.” You point at him, raising and lowering your finger.

“Do I look bad?” He asks, sliding his earphones into his pocket before treading towards you on the couch. Up close, you can see the sweat dripping down his neck and the way his shirt outlines his chest just right.

You’re salivating.

“Worse. You look amazing.” He stands in front of you as you sit on your knees. Your hands rest on his chest, smoothing over his lean arms and shoulders.

“You’re staring.” Zayne chides, but there’s no malice in his voice. He likes your praise, your attention. Sometimes you catch him making himself prettier for you. You massage his shoulders softly, leaning in to smell him. Zayne stiffens under you, "What are you—"

"You smell nice too." You smile against his skin. Zayne's hands stabilize your waist, rubbing circles into your skin. "You smell like me." Your chest swirls with pride, scraping his scalp softly with your nails. Zayne hums in reply, his eyes softly closing. He dips his head into your neck, pressing a kiss against your exposed skin.

"I should leave a mark on you." You mutter, running a finger up and down his chest. Zayne lets you touch up on him, running your hands along his abdomen and chest. He watches your hands, the way your face twinkles. He hums once again, raising a brow. "Anyone passing should know you're taken." Zayne chuckles, looping his arms around you. You pull him on top of you, a drop of his sweat dripping onto your collarbone.

"The ring on my finger isn't enough?" He's amused, pride swirling in his chest over you. You shake your head, arms curled around his neck.

"That doesn't stop anyone." You plainly reply, running your knees between his legs. Zayne breathes into you, lips pressed against yours before softly pulling away. You chase him, forcing him back to you with a hand against his nape. "They have to know…" You speak between kisses. "You're taken. That you're mine."

"Yes. Perhaps you should…" Zayne murmurs against your lips, softly biting your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting his tongue slide against yours. Zayne rises, his hands sliding against the trim of his shirt. You stop him, pulling his hands under your shirt instead.

"Keep it on."

"Zayne." I nudge his shoulder. It was 3am and I felt a pair of tiny feet kicking in my womb, they're growing stronger each day.

Just before I could call his name again, he turns to his left side slowly. "What's wrong..?" his voice laced with concern.

"The baby's kicking too hard.. They woke me up." I sigh and rub my swollen stomach gently.

Zayne carefully sits up from the bed and scootched closer to me. Guiding my body to fit into his embrace.

"I guess we know who they take after.." he mumbles.

I gasp, acting offended by his comment. "Tell me you didn't just imply that our child has a bad personality." With the tendency to overthink, I try not to let it get to me. Especially with pregnancy hormones.

Zayne pulls me closer, "It's true. They're strong and stubborn." His voice was soft and had no mockery. "That's a compliment, by the way."

"Doesn't seem like it to me." I pat my stomach gently, careful not to do it too hard. "Your daddy can be mean and brutal sometimes with his words, don't let it ruin your day. Okay?" I talk to the baby in my womb, that responded with a tiny kick.

I felt his lips on my neck, placing a kiss and blew on it. "I think the kick meant 'Mama, I'm hungry for chocolate and macarons'. "

I chuckle at his comment and hit his leg, "They got that from you, for sure."

fluff! just zayne being unable to sleep without you by his side, he's very lover boy coded here hehe

it's seven a.m. on a saturday and the other side of the bed of the bed is cold. zayne sleepily extends his arm out, but is met with silk sheets. taking in a few deep breaths in, he counts to ten in hopes that you come back.

but after five, he feels the sleepiness worsen. there is one problem: he can't sleep without you by his side. groggy, he lifts up the blanket covers and slips on his fluffy slippers, making his way to the kitchen where he hopes he will be able to find you.

you stand with your back to him, stirring sugar into your camomile tea. he drags his feet against the floorboards, his arms encircling around your waist as he rests his head on top of yours.

“your side of the bed was cold without you by my side, darling. come back to bed with me, please?” he complains, snuggling closer into you.

“i'm so sorry, my love. i only wanted to make some tea to help me fall back asleep.” you place your warm hands over his arms, soothing him.

“hm,” he hums, nodding without saying anything else, clearly ready to go back to bed with you.

“let's go back to bed.” you gently remove his arms off your waist but are met with a slight whimper of disapproval from zayne. “just for a minute, my love. i need to carry the mug back to bed and then i'm all yours, okay?”

you lead the way, with your boyfriend drowsily following behind. settling into the bed, zayne happily slips under the covers, looking at you with pleading eyes as he waits for you to finish your tea.

the tea is slightly hot, but you don't let it show. drinking this tea in slight discomfort is the least of your worries whilst your hard working boyfriend needs his needed rest. you place the mug down on the bedside table, letting your head rest against the pillow.

zayne pulls you close in his embrace, making sure to have you flush against him. he lets out a sigh of relief, and finally closes his eyes for a peaceful slumber with his beloved by his side.

Damian didn’t usually visit his brothers of his own free will. Most of the time, he only stopped by the apartment to grab a quick snack or pick up some accessory that might be useful to him.

But, surprisingly, on that day—on that perfect day—he had decided to be an inconvenience to Todd, simply because he had nothing better to do.

You were in the kitchen, finishing plating the dessert that would accompany one of your movie nights with Jason.

Used to your boyfriend’s entrances and exits through the window and balcony, you didn’t startle when you heard one of them being opened, continuing to hum absentmindedly.

It was only when you turned to wash your hands that you remembered a small detail—Jason was in the shower.

The humming slowly died in your throat.

You dried your hands calmly—much calmer than you actually felt—and turned your head toward the living room, just enough to peek through the doorway.

And there he was, sitting on the couch like he owned the place, legs crossed as he ate popcorn. He chewed slowly, eyes focused on the turned-off television, as if he were waiting for something to start.

He stopped the moment he noticed you.

You stopped the moment you noticed him.

For a long second, neither of you moved.

His green eyes narrowed slightly, calculating, suspicious. “…You are not Todd.”

You blinked once.

“No…” you answered slowly. “And you are definitely not Jay either.”

note: i decided to indulge myself and make a short one-shot based on this post. this can be treated as an extra for the fanfic i’m currently making :3 (divider by @angeliicide) content: fluff, mild atla movie leak spoilers, pregnant!fem!reader, possessive but awkward zuko (he’s a simp for you), you like to tease zuko

Ever since you tied the knot with Zuko and became the Fire Lady, it became a regular thing for you to join court meetings. A change that your husband enforced. But once you got pregnant, he tried to convince you to skip the sessions more often—or even stop attending—because he was worried about you getting stressed and it affecting your health.

But his soft spot for you won as you insisted that you still wanted to help him shoulder his burdens.

Hence, you find yourself currently sitting beside your husband, listening to a handful of memorials announced by the grand chamberlain as you occasionally rub your small baby bump while your other hand is held by Zuko.

thank you, thank you, thank you (pt.2: the tables have turned)

description: leon is a hypocrite and y/n is healing + small, but special, guest appearance at the end :D -> part 1 (audio book ver.) i made the text big so it can be easier for our supreme and glorius leader to read 😼

It had been a month since Leon took your pride and joy away. The first two weeks of your brainrot withdrawal were awful. You wandered the apartment like a restless ghost, sighing heavily at the walls, flopping across the furniture dramatically, opening the fridge just to stare into it, mumbling something about Leon’s lame snack selection, then shutting it again.

After a few days of your pouting, he actually started to notice the difference. You were sleeping a little earlier, and your eyes didn’t glaze over whenever he was talking to you for more than five minutes. You even stopped absentmindedly reaching for your phone every five minutes while doing one of your hobbies.

His heart was full of pride when he realized you finished a movie with him without looking away halfway through to play Subway Surfers while watching.

It started when Leon had dragged you to the couch one night and put on some old action movie he liked. You made fun of it the whole time while he tried defending the storyline and his favorite characters like his life depended on it.

He put on another one of his “classics” the next night out of spite, thinking maybe your taste for cinema would change with some gentle redirection.

He was wrong. You tore him a new one for buying it in the first place. But Leon was nothing if not adaptable. Instead of forcing you to like his taste in corny-ass long form content, he realized he could ridicule the movie with you.

“Guy’s not even holding his gun right,” he huffed, nudging your shoulder from where you sat slumped beside him. “Some action hero.” You scoffed in agreement. He had to contain his excitement at seeing your small smile. He hadn’t won your recovering brain over yet. “His hair is greasier than the pan you left in the sink this morning.” You chuckled.

“Could deep fry an egg with all that oil,” Leon added, heart warming at the sound of your amused laughter. “Oh! My turn-” you sat up, getting ready to insult yet another awfully chauvinistic man that took over the screen.

Right then and there, Leon realized this was one of his better brainrot interventions.

It sort of became a routine. Every evening, the two of you hunted down the worst thing available and tore it apart together. In a magical way, hating on other people became a nice, domestic stress reliever for the both of you.

You heckled from the couch while Leon tried and failed to one-up your sarcastic remarks, but he just couldn’t keep up, especially when you adlibbed with your favorite memorized memes.

The two of you poked fun at the obvious poor quality wigs, although he did give you a flat look for constantly asking him if he’d “veh vigs.” (Apparently that had something to do with Elijah Wood. He had no clue.) He rolled his eyes when you kept asking for your computer to “make those guys super gay and horny” whenever the two of you sat through awkward love scenes or intense interactions between two male characters. Old habits die hard, he thought.

After one especially awful romance movie, Leon shifted beside you and fondly watched your laughter taper off into little tired breaths.

“This is nice,” he mused. “Spending time with you without any phones in the way. It’s been a month since you got off that mind rot.”

You glanced up. “Brain rot.”

“Well, whatever it’s called...” He pulled you in closer until your head rested against his shoulder. “I’m proud of you for weaning off it. You haven’t made a reference to a TikTok audio for weeks.”

You sighed like a widow remembering lost love.

“Those were the days.”

You were better now, a lot more clear-headed. Being off TikTok for so long made you realize how stupid a lot of things on the app were. Still, every now and then, you felt a twinge of grief in your chest.

You missed your archives. Hundreds of saved videos with carefully chosen reaction images in comment sections full of nonsense only you understood.

Years of references buried under layers of algorithmic sediment. The meme Library of Alexandria, gone all because Mr. Don’t Ruin Your Brain Cells Even Though Mine Got Fried From Being an Alcoholic said so.

All that remained were joyous memories of shoving your phone in Leon’s cute little confused face.

But that was in the past now. Now, you could reference an egregious amount of awful movie and TV show lines to Leon, and he would actually get it. And laugh.

*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Leon reluctantly woke up way before dawn the way he always did before leaving for an unexpected mission. The fading moon still washed the room in blue, an electric fan producing a comfortable white noise in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

He was already dressed in dark tactical pants, boots laced, and holster strapped.

He even wore that fitted quarter zip, the one that compelled you to endearingly call him a slut every time he wore it.

He stood by the bedroom door for a second, but paused and turned back.

The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled open the nightstand drawer, reached inside, and took out the small handgun resting there.

He checked the magazine and the chamber, just making sure it was fully loaded in case it was needed. But that wouldn’t be necessary. He paid good money for security software and all the bulletproof glass installed in the house. He never wanted to risk bringing his dangerous mess of a job home to you. You'd kill him.

He carefully placed the weapon back in the nightstand when he heard you stir behind him, a soft unhappy sound. Warm arms looped over his shoulders from behind, and your knees slid to either side of his hips as you climbed against his back.

Your face found the space between his neck and shoulder, settling there with a tired exhale, the proximity of your breath making him a little ticklish.

You mumbled something into his skin.

“What was that?” Leon asked quietly.

Another mumble, more petulant this time.

He chuckled. Even half-conscious, you were clingy when he left. But your grip on him did feel different this morning, and Leon knew why.

For the past few weeks, he’d been home more than usual. There weren’t any emergencies or late night disappearances through the door with a muttered I’ll be back soon.

Which meant he had become your primary source of entertainment.

You’d follow him room to room and sit on counters while he cooked. You made him fix things that weren’t all that broken just because you liked seeing his hands work. You distracted him from his paperwork and annoyed him on purpose.

Now he was leaving again, and you were both going to be bored out of your mind.

Leon tilted his head slightly against yours.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll bring back the worst movie I can find.”

You made a sleepy noise.

“I’ll make sure it has terrible English dubbing,” he continued. “And cheap wigs.”

That got a tiny smile out of you.

“We’ll watch it together when I get back.”

You lifted one hand from his shoulder and blindly held out your pinky.

Leon stared at it for a second, then he hooked his finger with yours.

“Promise,” you mumbled.

“Promise.”

He pried himself free ten minutes later only because he had to.

*:･ﾟ✧

A week later, Leon sat alone in a hotel room after the mission had wrapped up, countries away.

He thought he’d enjoy the silence after the bullshit day he just had, but silence felt wrong.

The room was nice enough. It was clean and all, but it was too beige... too temporary looking.

On the desk beside him rested a DVD in cheap plastic wrapping, bought from a roadside shop two days earlier.

Some local action romance monstrosity with flames on the cover and at least three misspelled English words in the title.

He’d bought it for you, so he felt no desire to watch it alone. He couldn’t call you now. With the time zone difference, you’d probably be dead asleep.

A wave of loneliness and dread, unlike anything he’d felt in a long time, washed over him.

Maybe he was getting old, less strong-willed. Maybe he just missed the person he was supposed to come home to.

Leon leaned back against the headboard and scrolled through his phone, hoping it would take his mind off things.

He already read the news, checked reports, cleared messages and emails, even stared blankly at weather updates for your city.

He clicked into the app store, and his tired gaze drifted to the app icon he’d mocked relentlessly for months.

TikTok.

He’d never understood the appeal.

Leon stared at the icon, then shrugged and downloaded it.

*:･ﾟ✧

Back home, the apartment felt too cold without Leon.

By evening, you were sprawled across the bed glaring at the ceiling, trying to avoid looking at his side of the bed. It was empty, the memory foam dipped in the shape of his heavy ass body that nearly crushed you in his sleep every morning.

A terrible idea entered your mind...

Ten minutes later, you were logging back into your old TikTok account.

“This is temporary,” you murmured.

Well, shit, a month of inactivity and your perfectly curated algorithm was ruined.

The People You May Know tab refreshed, and one blank profile appeared near the top.

It had no profile picture, but the username was:

l.s.k_77

You froze, eyes narrowed so hard it hurt.

No. Absolutely not.

You clicked it.

A new account with zero personality. It followed several pages dedicated to boring shit like tools, tactical gear, and mechanics.

Your jaw dropped.

l.s.k...

You sat upright in bed, seething.

“Leon Scott Kennedy," you hissed, "That hypocrite."

He’d spent months judging you and sending you links to random articles about how bad TikTok was for your brain, rolling his eyes when you quoted memes.

And now the slimy bastard had a burner account.

You stared at the screen in outrage.

Then, you followed him.

Back in the hotel room, Leon lay against the headboard with one pillow shoved behind his shoulders and the room lit only by his phone.

The app loaded instantly and it began feeding him nonsense.

A man laying brick in perfect rows.

Someone restoring a horse’s cracked hoof.

A compilation of U.S dash cam accidents.

Top ten banned weapons in Belgium.

Swipe.

A man pressure-washing years of grime off a stone driveway.

That one held him for almost two minutes.

Leon should have hated it, but the rhythm of thumb, video, thumb, video began easing his restless mind.

His shoulders loosened, jaw unclenched, his eyes gradually lost focus.

Swipe.

Swipe...

At some point, without noticing, Leon dozed off.

*:･ﾟ✧

He woke with a jolt several minutes later.

The same obnoxious audio was blaring on loop.

Some burly man with a deep voice shouting lord please, if you love me flip that truck over! with footage of a truck with a giant logo of the Little Debbies cosmic brownies on it. 

His neck ached and his phone had slipped halfway down his chest. He reached to close out of it and delete the slot machine of an app when a notification slid across the top of the screen.

new follower

He almost ignored it, but then he saw the username...very familiar.

Leon sat upright and tapped on it.

Your profile opened instantly.

He narrowed his eyes and without thinking, he screenshotted it and messaged you through the app.

l.s.k_77: care to explain?

He hit send and your reply came less than thirty seconds later.

you: care to explain what, leon s. kennedy?

He frowned.

you: bold move messaging me from a secret account btw

Leon blinked.

Looked at the message, looked at his username, looked at the fact he was currently on TikTok in a foreign hotel room at two in the morning after months of acting morally superior and lecturing you to delete the app he's on right now.

Silence filled the room.

“…Fuck.”

Another message.

you: hypocrite.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

Exhaustion made everything slower for him, even shame.

l.s.k_77: this conversation is postponed until i get home.

you: coward

you: what are you even doing on here??

l.s.k_77: research.

Three dots appeared instantly.

Then vanished.

Then appeared again.

you: embarrassing…

Leon locked the phone and dropped it onto the bed beside him.

He’d deal with this when he got home.

*:･ﾟ✧

Leon barely got the door unlocked before he heard your footsteps. He braced instinctively as you rounded the corner, fully expected to get verbally executed. Maybe physically.

At minimum, pinned to the wall and interrogated about the burner account. Instead, you collided into him hard enough to nearly knock him backward. Your legs wrapped around his middle, arms circling his neck, clinging tight as all your momentum carried into the hug. Leon staggered and dropped the duffel to the floor with a heavy thud.

He let out a surprised laugh, “Well, hello to you too.”

When you finally pulled back, he opened his mouth. Likely to explain or defend himself, but you kissed him before he got a word out. Leon made a low startled sound against your mouth, then kissed you back without hesitation, one hand sliding to the side of your face.

When you parted, he blinked at you, “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” you said. “I wanted to reach through the screen and strangle you.”

He chuckled, then winced when your arm looped around his neck tighter and squeezed for emphasis.

“Right there,” you said. “Like this.”

“Message received.”

You released him, satisfied, then grabbed his wrist and tugged him deeper into the apartment.

“Come on.”

He settled on the couch first and you sank back, spine against his chest. He was seated in the cushions with his legs stretched around either side of yours. Leon’s arms folded around your waist automatically. 

His head tipped back against the couch cushion, throat exposed, Adam’s apple shifting when he swallowed and yawned. The jet lag hit him all at once now that he’d stopped moving.

You idly tapped at the backs of his hands looped over your stomach, drumming nonsense with your fingers.

“I deleted my account,” you said. “...But you can keep your boring little burner you brain rotted old man.”

“Oh,” Leon murmured, ignoring your little jab, eyes already closed. “I was gonna delete it anyway.”

“Hm, but first I wanna see what got you of all people so hooked.”

Before he could answer, your hand slipped into his jacket pocket and fished out his phone. You unlocked it, opened the app, and immediately recoiled.

The most aggressively middle aged man feed you had ever witnessed stared back at you.

You grimaced and twisted to look up at him “Really?"

Leon opened one eye, “What?”

“This is your For You page?”

He shrugged against the couch, “Yeah? This is useful information.”

“Useful information…” you repeated, gesturing toward the current video where a man was building a miniature fortress out of cinder blocks and cement.

Leon reached lazily over your shoulder and tapped into his saved folder.

“Look.” It was a collection of self-defense videos, “I know I already taught you some moves. But these might help.” He paused. “You never know when you might–.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, irritation softening at his protectiveness. 

You resumed swiping through his page, determined to find something funny buried beneath the wasteland of boring manly shit.

You squinted as grainy news helicopter footage loaded.

Smoke and debris littered the camera, and you could see a tiny familiar idiot in a skin tight quarter zip launching himself off some ledge and on top of some mangled creature before hacking at it with an axe. 

There was text on the screen though,

most sane leon fan:

A voiceover began.

“Leon, please get on top of me and start beating my ass like that,” 

Leon jolted, sleep vanishing from his worn body as his wide eyes glanced at your equally shocked face, then back at the screen.

“You’d leave me a bloody mess, but I would be fucking turned on and begging for more to be touched by you. I’d say thank you after you’d beat my ass. Please, one chance–”  (quoted word for word btw).

The phone vanished from your hands.

“Wait, wait!” You chuckle.

He ignored you, looking through the app menu. Settings, account, delete, 

You gasped, “Don’t!”

Confirm deletion.

“Yeah, no.” He muttered, shaking his head.

“Come onn, that was hilarious,” You nudged him, “I wanna see more of your little fans react to you.”

“I don’t,” he grumbled.

“What was that name? Antonio?" You twisted in his arms, trying to grab the phone back, but Leon simply pinned both your wrists against your chest with one hand while deleting the app with the other.

“It’s over,” he said.

“You’re so dramatic!”

“I’m being dramatic?” Leon scoffed, “You're begging to watch me be sexualized through aerial footage.”

“Can you blame them?!” You implore.

He shook his head in defeat as he tossed the phone onto the coffee table. He tightened his arms around you, and shut his eyes again.

“Wake me up in ten hours,” he muttered.

You leaned back into him, chuckling a little as you thought of Leon's mortified expression. You hadn’t seen that level of confusion on his face since your brain rot prime.

You shrugged as another thought came to you, atleast Antonio has good taste.

thank you-thank you-thank you antonio for reading my stupid fics. you always make my day. and you're actually a good reader! love ya ( *︾▽︾)

thank you, thank you, thank you…

description: leons had enough of you shoving tik tok memes in his face and mindlessly referencing them…especially in bed.

warnings: alludes to s*x happening (but not descriptive at all)

Leon was never really on his phone unless someone texted or called him for something important, like work.

He was doing just fine with his flip phone until you begged him to buy a normal phone to save both of you the embarrassment out in public.

When he met you, phones became portals to mind numbing hell...or mind rot or whatever young people called it nowadays.

It started out pretty tame. A short video here, a muttered reference to one there.

You’d be sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm, and suddenly your whole body would tense like you just remembered something super important.

“Wait—wait, look at this one—”

Leon would barely have time to react before you were shoving your phone into his line of sight.

A blurry video of someone speaking a foreign language too fast in 720p with filters and a sound effect that made no sense.

He’d stare, silently processing why his beautiful, intelligent and quick witted wife…could be possibly find this funny. Was there a hidden meaning?

“…what am I looking at?” he’d ask, squinting slightly.

You’d already be laughing.

“That’s the point, it doesn’t make sense,” you outright wheezed.

“Honey, that’s not a point.”

“It is!”

He’d exhale through his nose, grabbing your phone and tossing it a few inches away from you on the couch before leaning back, “I love you, but your sense of humor is fucked.”

You gasped, giving him a scandalized look “Says you! Can’t even go two seconds without making some corny dad joke.”

“Which you always laugh at,” he concluded with utmost composure.

Just when he thought this tik tok thing was some trend you’d grow out of, you’d do it again, except this time it wasn’t a video playing mindless noise.

It was you!

Muttering some meme audio under your breath, repeating a phrase. They were like little vocal habits, or “comedic” adlibs that slipped out without thinking. And every once in a while Leon would shake his head, huff out the quietest laugh.

You’d freeze, eyes lighting up before you reached up to poke at his reluctant smile.

“Ooou, you think I’m hilarious.”

“…I didn’t say that.”

“You laughed.”

Eventually, he sort of adapted. But nothing could’ve prepared him for that night.

You were situated on Leon’s lap, and his voice dropped low as he murmured something against your ear through ragged breaths, a compliment so soft and sweet your stomach flipped.

And without thinking, you breathed out, quiet and mindless,

“Thank you…”

He sighed through a few other words of praise and since your mind wasn't really there you found yourself repeating the two words under your breath again.

It slipped out so naturally you didn’t even process it at first. But then you paused, just for a fraction of a second, but Leon felt it.

“…You okay?” he muttered, breath stuttering as he brought a hand up to the side of your flushed face.

You bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head quickly, dipping it away from his view, maybe you could brush it off, but then…

The thought hit you again.

The meme, flashing behind your eyes.

The stupid audio ringing in your ears.

Oh no.

You hid your face, turning your cheek to rest on Leon’s bulky shoulder as you continued moving.

You bit at his damp skin, but lo and behold…a small snicker escaped before you could stop it.

Leon brought his hands to your waist, stilling your movements and searching for your gaze with the utmost concern in his eyes. “Hey—whats wrong?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold it in, shoulders starting to shake. “N-nothing, just—”

“Are you…laughing?”

“…Sorry—I’m sorry,” you fully cracked, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as you nearly stopped breathing.

Leon leaned back just enough to look at you, completely thrown.

Hair tousled from your grip, expression somewhere in between leftover lust, concern, and pure confusion.

“…did I do something wrong?” he asked, brows pulling together.

You shook your head quickly, still laughing. “No—no, it’s just…there’s this stupid meme—”

“A meme?!” he repeated.

The word itself offended him, there was no way your mind had conjured up another meme during such an intimate moment. It was a damn scandal!

You nodded, reaching for your phone resting under the pillow beside Leon. “Wait, I’ll show you—”

Leon groaned softly under his breath, hissing through his teeth at your involuntary movements.

You pulled up the video, giggling and barely able to hold the phone steady. He stared as you swiped through numerous videos of cars, or even people, squatting up and down as some stupid audio played in time with their bounces—

“thank you, thank you, thank you—”

Leons steel blue eyes stared at the screen, then at you, then back at the screen.

“…that’s what you were thinking about?” he asked in bewilderment.

You wheezed, nodding.

He huffed, shaking his head as a faint, disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re unbelievable.”

As soon as you recovered, he shifted, flipping you down under him, voice fond now, but laced with that familiar edge.

“Alright,” he muttered, adjusting you so you could get comfortable. “Now, focus.”

The next morning was suspiciously quiet. You stretched, blinking sleep from your eyes, reaching lazily for your phone on the nightstand.

Your hand blindly smacked against the wooden surface, it wasn’t there...

You frowned.

You sat up and looked around, under the pillows, under the bed, in your drawers. You sighed, padding into the living room.

“…Leon?”

“In the kitchen.”

You were still half-asleep, hair a mess, voice rough, “Have you seen my phone?”

He didn’t look up from the coffee he was stirring, “Yeah.”

“…okay?” you said slowly. “Where is it?”

He looked at you with a little smirk, before he reached into his pocket and held it up.

You frowned, why was that in his pocket? Whatever, you couldn’t care less right now.

You needed your morning doomscroll.

He placed it on the counter and you immediately grabbed it.

When you unlocked it, searching for that familiar little red, blue, and black music icon, you froze.

“…what the hell?” You murmured, frantically swiping through your homescreen like it might magically reappear somehow.

“Hm?”

“…Where is it.”

In your mind, yet another meme audio played:

"mf where is it—where is it??!"…You seriously had a problem.

“Where’s what, honey?” He hummed.

“The app—Tik Tok!”

He finally looked at you, and shrugged “I deleted it.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head.

“What!—why?”

“Because.”

“BECAUSE WHY?”

He took a sip of his coffee, “Because it’s rotting your brain.”

You stared at him.

“Excuse me??”

“You couldn’t even get through five minutes without quoting something,” he said, setting the mug down. “In bed.”

You flushed instantly. “That was ONE time!—”

“Mm.”

“You even laughed!”

“Eventually.”

He stepped closer, reaching out, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek in a way that immediately dulled your frustration.

His voice dropped a little, quieter now.

“You’ve got a good brain,” he said. “I like it the way it is.”

Your expression faltered just a bit, foot kicking against the floor in protest, “…But—Leon, this isn’t funny.”

“No gorgeous, it’s not,” he cooed in faux sympathy, “which is exactly why I’m not letting you redownload it until I stop hearing meme references, especially not in bed.”

Your jaw dropped. You hated that mischievous glimmer in his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes…god, he’s so handsome. Wait! You’re mad right now.

“I’ll just redownload it.” You said defiantly.

“And I’ll re-delete it,” Leon grinned, tapping your chin. “Who knows, maybe when you recover you’ll be thanking me, yeah?”

Even in all your despair, you suppressed a smirk as the meme audio rang in your head.

Leon, having grown a sixth sense for your incoming references, gave you a flat look, “Not in that way.”

“BUT—“

He was already turning away, clearly done with the discussion, “Coffee’s getting cold.”

You stood there for a second, completely betrayed.

“…Fine,” you stubbornly called out as he walked away, “I’ll hide your geezer rock CDs!”

His muffled voice echoed from inside your room, “I think I’ll live.”

computa, give my tumblr followers a real life leon, oiled up with a maid outfit. you’ve been programmed.

yall idk im bored and dont wanna do my homework. ill get to part 2 of the work dilf eventually...

Based on this request!!

SYNOPSIS: While not planned this early on, you and Leon are expecting and are welcoming it as much as you can with open arms. But then, Leon is personally requested for this high risk mission where his fate is not clear, but he will do anything if it means it will get him back to you.

PAIRING: RE4R!Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS/TAGS: A mix of both fluff and angst, good ending, established relationship (Leon and Reader are married), fem!reader, afab!reader, cursing, mention of smoking, description of second trimester pregnancy and its symptoms, weird cravings, sweet domestic moments, kissing, divergence of Resident Evil 4 Remake canon plot, canon typical Resident Evil violence, ganados, blood, gore, ADA WONG APPEARANCE (no bashing here, we like Ada on this blog), references to Krauser fights, Las Plagas and its symptoms, references to Luis Serra death scene, a lot of Leon’s stream of consciousness

NOTES: OMG I’ve been having the urges to write Dad!Leon recently, so thank you much Anon for sending in this request, even if I made it sad, but it is all good in the end! I promise. (pun intended) (lol im sorry that was lame) I hope you like it!

SUMMARY leon chaperones his daughter's field trip

PAIRINGS re9!leon kennedy x wife!reader, re9!leon kennedy x daughter!oc (lizzy)

WORD COUNT 0.4k

WARNINGS basically just fluff. leon does his absolute best to be there for his child. mentions of first grader antics. leon has a daughter named lizzy (girl dad!leon i will always love you). brain rot mentions (six seven mention sorry). not proofread. lowercase intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE this idea came to me after watching a video about a mother complaining about chaperoning other kids on a field trip she signed up for. anyway, this is how leon would be on his daughter's field trip. also, i threw this together really fast so sorry if it sucks.

content: pure fluff, d/n= daughter’s name, girl dad & husband fire lord!zuko x wife reader

the sun was just beginning to dip behind the jagged peaks surrounding the fire nation capital, casting a warm orange glow over everything that matched the rich tapestries hanging in the private royal quarters. you were sitting on a thick rug, trying to neatly fold a basket of silks, while zuko sat at his low desk nearby, buried under a growing pile of scrolls that never seemed to get any smaller, even after years of him being the fire lord.

d/n was wobbling around the room, her little feet thumping against the floorboards as she chased a stray butterfly. she was wearing a miniature version of the traditional crimson robes, which made her look like a tiny, round ember.

"mama! look! i catch it!" she chirped, her voice high and stumbling over the words as she lunged for the butterfly on the wall.

you smiled, pausing your folding to watch her. "you almost got it, baby. keep trying."

zuko let out a heavy sigh from his desk, dropping his brush. he rubbed the bridge of his nose, but when he looked over at d/n, his expression softened instantly. the golden light hit his scar, and for a moment, he didn't look like the most powerful man in the world; he just looked like a tired dad.

"she has too much energy today," zuko murmured, leaning back in his chair. "maybe i should take her out to the turtle-duck pond before dinner."

just as he said that, d/n stopped in her tracks. her little shoulders suddenly hitched upward, and she hiccuped.

a tiny, bright orange spark popped out of her mouth, fizzling out before it even hit the air. her eyes went wide, and she looked at you with a confused pout. "uh oh," she whispered.

you felt a pang of worry mixed with amusement. "zuko, the hiccups are back."

"it is fine," zuko said, standing up and walking over to her. "it is just her inner fire reacting to the diaphragm spasms. she is only two, it is perfectly natural for a bender her age." he knelt down and scooped her up, but right as he did, another one hit her.

this time, a bigger puff of fire—not just a spark—shot forward. it wasn't enough to hurt anyone, but it landed right on the corner of the scroll zuko had been working on. the dry paper ignited instantly, a small flame licking up the side of the page.

"fire! fire!" d/n squealed, pointing at the desk and giggling like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

"no, no, no! not that one!" zuko yelped, darting back to the desk. he didn't even use bending to put it out; he just started frantically patting the paper with his bare hands until the flame died, leaving a charred, circular hole right in the middle of a tax report.

you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, leaning back against the sofa. "well, i think she just gave you a very valid reason to stop working for the night."

zuko looked at the ruined scroll, then at his daughter, who was currently trying to chew on her own hand to stop the next hiccup. he sighed, a small, defeated smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"d/n, we do not burn daddy’s important papers," he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably because he was busy booping her nose.

"burn it!" d/n repeated proudly, her little chest puffing out. "i do fire, dada! see?"

"yes, i see," zuko laughed, tucking her under his arm like a sack of rice. "you are a very powerful firebender, but maybe we should practice on things that aren't official decrees. like... nothing. let's practice on nothing."

another hiccup shook her tiny body, and a stray spark landed in zuko’s hair. you jumped up, quickly patting it out before it could catch.

"okay, that's it," you said, taking her from him and settling her on your hip. "i think someone needs some water and a nap before she accidentally sets the palace curtains on fire."

"no nap! play!" d/n protested, squirming in your arms.

zuko stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of you and resting his forehead against yours. the smell of smoke and sandalwood clung to him, and he looked so happy it made your heart ache.

"let her stay up just a little longer," he whispered. "i’ll help her control the breath. if she learns to breathe through the hiccups, the fire stops."

"you just want to play with her," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe," he admitted, grinning as d/n let out one last tiny hiccup that produced nothing but a faint wisp of smoke. "but look at her. she’s going to be better than me one day."

short | smut | size difference | big ol’ beefy boy

jason todd bulks so easily.

he doesn’t even have to be super strict about it, like his body listens to him without much restriction. his muscles fill out and his stomach gets just a little pudgier.

you can tell when it makes him insecure, when his shirts that were already straining against his huge muscles start to barely fit over the extra pounds he gains. you try and convince him that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, that you know he’s just maintaining his physique. he tries to shrug it off, tell you that you’re being nice. still you kiss him extra, wrap your arms around him when you can and work around his diet with him so you can both eat together. he loved you for it.

but when he’s doing his meal prep on saturday morning, shirt nowhere to be found and his back muscles working in tandem with his huge biceps, you fight the urge to tackle him to the floor. you can smell the coffee he’s brewing you and normally that would wake you up entirely. though right now, all you want is to drag him back to bed. you stand there in the doorway, watching him move, admiring the layer of sexy pudge he put on for the winter months.

the way his thighs were bigger than ever and you gawked at them, imagining him over you. you knew he’d been hitting legs harder, training his glutes with hip thrusts and kickbacks that he upped the weights weekly. you were practically drooling at how his pants fit his perfect ass and tilting your head at it like something you wanted a bite out of.

without even turning, the heat of your intense gaze was enough to burn his back, he calls your name.

“you gonna stand there and stare all day babe?”

like a magnet, you pad over to him, drawn by his enormous stature. smaller arms wrapping around his huge frame like a ribbon around a gift. god, he was so hot.

warmer, bigger, and softer.

so when he fucked, it was way more intense.

anything about jason being a man of few words is propaganda. unless he’s exhausted, he’ll talk your ear off about the books he’s reading, his arguments with his brothers and teammates, the criminal operations he’s plotting on. he’s quick and witty, and has no qualms making fun of himself or you. you try your best to listen, honest — but sometimes you end up accidentally tuning him out. he’s not offended by this, don’t worry, and he’ll fuck off if you get overstimulated.

but, god help you, his talkativeness absolutely extends to the bedroom. you cannot tune him out then.

every word makes your face hotter, your moans louder. he gets off on it shamelessly. he’s constantly mouthing off, talking about how good you look, how good you feel, how good you are for him. you don’t have to do a thing, pretty, just let him do all the work. the definition of ‘talks you through it’.

“there she is, there’s my girl. so pretty f’me… god, baby, if you could see what i see. perfect little thing. i’d give you the moon, baby— s-shit, stop squeezin’ me like that. gonna make me cum too quick, like a goddamn virgin. if i wasn’t fuckin’ you stupid right now, you’d think that’s funny. what’s that now? ah, ah, ah? uh, uh, uh? sound so fuckin’ cute, baby…”

i don’t think he’s much of a moaner, honestly. i think he’ll grunt, occasionally groan, but the real kicker? he whimpers when he cums.

“shit, ‘m so fucking close. gonna give it to me? yes, you can, i know you can. c’mon, baby, you’re right there. i’ll rub your pretty clit— there you go. oh, i know, sweet girl. c’mon, be so good for me. there it is— fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck— mmph!”