178 words. Trying to make longer stuff but I'm so lazyyy("-_- )
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It really shouldn't have shocked you, considering Leon's literally the epitome of a man who'd have a little charm of you, his husband, with him out on missions. Whether it be a little locket strapped around his neck with a picture of you lookin all cute inside (that he'd probably have to take off after getting grabbed by a zombie).
Or in this case, a mini model of you on his favorite gun. He's sat at his desk with your chin sitting on his head and your elbows resting on his shoulders while he's giving you a little tour of guns, when you spot something dangling right under the pistol he's showing off.
You look closer to see a miniature toy version of you, perfectly painted down to the tiny, distinct features on your face, the clothes you usually wear and the tiniest grays in your hair. When you point it out he responds with a soft "i don't know, it just kinda helps with my aim?"
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Summery: Leon notices you're tired of your role as "the guy in the chair," so he takes you out to the shooting range with him.
1k words
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You had to admit it, sometimes you felt just a tiny bit useless
Now obviously you weren't fully discrediting yourself and saying your role in Leon getting from point A to point B was entirely pointless, you were just signaling that you wish you were shooting up some zombies with him. Though he did make it a point to mention how he thought your job was more important than his, or that he'd be lost without you pointing him around all the time through his earpiece, which you could admit was partially true, that really wasn't the point at all.
The point was, you weren't out there, you were sitting around at your desk in the dead of night, compiling evidence for him to backflip off of, safely tucked away in the office, catching up on the book you were reading earlier, or crocheting another hat you'd most likely forget about the minute you got home.
Leon noticed, considering he slept right beside you most nights, it'd be pretty weird if he didn't, every time you sighed mid mission when you'd find out he had to stay out a bit longer, because who the hell likes sitting at their desk all day. Or when he'd mention something he did, like finishing a mission in less than four hours or something, and you'd just look at him with that very specific look he'd only ever seen from you, not quite jealousy but something dangerously close.
At first, he was a bit confused since you didn't really have much of a problem with assisting him a couple of weeks ago, usually sticking to your navigation niche, you must have had a change of heart all the sudden with the way you were acting lately.
He can't just take you on the field with him for apparent safety reasons, and some other, more selfish reasons; he couldn't help it. If someone had to be out there, in harm's way as much as he was, he would rather it be him than you, no matter how experienced you were.
You weren't only untrained with firearms, but the closest thing you had to hand-to-hand combat experience was those short self-defense classes you took years ago. That's when he thought about it, why doesn't he just take you to the shooting range, you can get some practice in while simultaneously spending some time together. When he brought it up to you on one of those silent, calm nights when you both could just relax in bed, you seemed more than on board.
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"You probably already know this, but this little one's a pistol, more specifically a glock," he shows it off in his large hands for you before pulling back the slide, "I usually keep one of my suppressors on here cause I rather not blow my ears out, if you don't want this on you can just pop it off." He moves it around a little bit longer before holding it out for you, "so, wanna give it a spin?"
"Do I?" You take the gun from him, measuring its weight in your hands before getting into what you assume is the proper stance to shoot in. It's definitely not right since Leon comes up behind you to correct your posture immediately. Positioning himself right behind you, with his heat hot against your body as he squashes his chest against your back, wrapping his rough hands around yours to get a hold of the gun while lowering his head onto your shoulder, seeing exactly where you're going to shoot, "Couldn't imagine running around with one of these all the time."
"You get used to it," Leon pulls a pair of bulky protective glasses from his pockets before slipping them onto you. "Now go on and get that target." Leon encourages, patting you on your lower back, when he finally leaves your side you fire a couple rounds at the target, missing most of them, you do still manage to hit a shot or two a few times, it definitely gets your blood pumping and your arms shaking but damn you're horrible at it, Leon on the other hand stares from behind you, with a silly smirk across his face that he managed to keep hidden behind his palm.
After you use up the last of the bullets, he comes back over, trying his absolute hardest not to crack a joke about your aim whilst he picks out another gun for you to try, "nicely done."
"You're not only saying that cause I'm your husband, right?"
"What? No, never," He takes the pistol from your hands and replaces it with the second, much heavier gun, its frame almost slipping out of your hands just from its weight alone, "you think you got this one, it's a revolver, so you might need some help holding it still."
"If you can shoot this thing, I'm pretty sure I got it."
"Okay okay," he mumbles, backing up with his arms raised when you playfully shrug him off of your shoulder, he stands over in the corner, watching you do your own thing with his hands in his pockets, you aim, than lower the gun to catch your breath since its as heavy as a baby, than you aim again, finally pulling the trigger, just for nothing to come out, you click the trigger multiple times before holding it down with as much force as you could provide.
"Is this thing broken-"
You feel the gun almost fly from your hand as the bullet blasts from it, the sound almost impossibly loud, even through your headphones. It takes you a second after the initial shock to notice that singular bullet blew a hole clean through the wood, "You didn't tell me I was holding a mini shotgun!?"
"I thought you could handle the requiem."
That thing has a name? "You know what, I think I'm perfectly good off of that." You say, clicking the beast into safety before putting it down, "I'll let you handle the shooting, at least until I get bored again."
"And I'll be waiting for that day, so I can hide."
Tattooartist!leon whos a bit confused when a random guy like you walks in, but is still happy to serve nevertheless.
Tattooartist!leon whos surprisingly actually very gentle with you despite his rough looks and rough hands, if you say stop, he stops, and even if you don't, he'll take a break at any moment to let you catch your breath, since it's still just your first time under a tattoo gun.
Tattooartist!leon Whos tatted from his legs to his thick, muscular arms all the way up to his neck, from years of dedication to the craft and a long history, the dark ink adding to his already threatening appearance, and his handsome mature features.
Tattooartist!leon who lets you hold on to him as much and as hard as you need while he's working on your skin, he's a tough man, he can handle it, even though you are digging into him pretty hard, he knows how much first tattoos can hurt.
Tattooartist!leon who stares at you all shocked when you speak up to ask him for his number, but ends up scribbling it on a piece of paper for you anyway, just for the pure audacity, nothing else, he's totally not deprived of physical affection.
Tattooartist!leon who ends up watching you trace each and every one of the tattoos across his exposed chest, comfortably laying with you in your bed, letting your fingers glide across his skin, only chiming in when you ask him what each one means to him.
Tattooartist!leon who naturally opens up about himself the more you talk, he talks about his time as a cop and dealing with that, and also useless stuff like how he has a belly button piercing he got when he was pretty young that he still keeps up with.
Tattooartist!leon who just kind of soft lunches moving in after a couple of months. he still has his own place, but he doesn't mind spending the night since your place is just closer to the shop (it's not).
Tattooartist!leon who later lets you in on the family discount when you decide to get your second tattoo.
Summery: After a dream in arks halls of you holding a small baby, Leon comes back home with a bit of baby fever, good thing you're always there to set him straight
730 words
Spoilers maybe, reader's as old as Leon, and fluff with angst
_
It all started at ark, Leon was laid on the cold floor, back to the bright yellow wall and on his last breath, with the virus rapidly taking over, he slowly blinked himself unconscious. He woke up completely dazed, it was bright and horribly foggy, but he could tell he was regular room by the soft, pastel colored walls, occupied by normal furniture from what he could see, he looked around trying to find out where he was before his eyes landed on your familiar figure, giggling about something he couldn't see, until you turned around.
a small baby cradled in your arms, "I think they're trying to say your name?" He hears you whisper, while moving over to him, "say leon, leon, le-on," the baby coos in response, only being a few months old. He couldn't see the baby's face but he could feel it was his just from the pure and clean feeling he got from looking around the place.
His eyes fluttered open to grace shaking him back to the real world, all he wanted was to go back, to hold both you and the baby against his body, his head was practically torturing him with the thought of you, whispers of your name slaming around in his skull, but he knew he had to get grace out of that place, and to get back to his husband.
So he kept pushing till he was out of there, anything for you.
-
That familiar dip in the left side of the mattress, followed by the soft wooden frame creaking under the extra weight, that's all you wanted to hear.
You were fully ready to lose everything: the house, your heart, and him. Leon told you all about his sickness, that it was taking out everyone who passed through Raccoon city, and that he needed to find a way to "fix things." You could barely even hold his hand without being reminded that he was basically dead, even through his gloves, you could feel it. So you grieved early, at night you let yourself cry a bit, but in the day you took time out of your busy day to stare into nothing, thinking about how your life would change.
When you woke up almost two days after he left, tired as ever, shamelessly holding onto one of Leon's pillows, dressed in one of his tee shirts, it was clean, but his scent was still strong in its fabric, with the pale sunlight leaking through the curtains and in your face. And there he was, lower half wrapped under the nice clean blanket with his arm draped over his eyes, shielding himself from the light.
He was... soft, and all of those wounds he left with were gone, and replaced with nice smooth skin you can't help but touch on, your fingers gliding across his bare chest, all the way up to his neck, you almost couldn't stop looking. He was whole, and healthy, and everything he wasn't when he left.
"Told you I'd handle it," Leon mumbles, half asleep, his mouth already working its way into a small smile. It doesn't take long for him to move over to your side of the bed, the sheets ruffling as he wraps himself around you, his strong arms tucked under your back with his messy head of hair resting comfortably on your chest.
You lay there for a while, brushing your hands through his hair, before slowly falling back to sleep. It wouldn't hurt to rest a little bit longer with him, at least until he moves...
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He was already halfway done with making breakfast by the time you got out of the room, your lips gently landing against his cheek when you finally made your way towards him
"You know I'm keeping this shirt, right?"
"Yeah yeah, I know... looks better on you anyway," as old as both of you were, he knew a baby was stupid to even think about, eseptionally with him still being an agent and all, but a man can dream, "you know, i was just thinking about how good of parents we'd make, just a mini us waddling around the world, exploring life."
"Maybe... but I kinda don't want to die trying to pick up my kid." You joke, only a little serious, "and, do you know where you left my jacket?"
Normally, you wouldn't really think to watch Leon train. Obviously you'd pop by with a bottle water or a clean towel if you could, trying to be a supportive husband and all, but besides that you mostly walked past the in-home gym since it had little to no use for you at your big age, leon on the other hand prided himself on being strong, having the upper hand in most situations, especially close combat was crucial in his field of work.
You thought maybe as Leon mellowed out, and grew older, he'd let up on all the gym stuff so he could give his bones a break, but nope, he stayed persistent, rarely missing a day, not that you could complain... That being said, it wasn't fully unpleasant watching him do his thing. Usually he'd just be running on the treadmill trying to work on his stamina, lifting some weights, or training with the punching bag. And today, he just so happens to be using the bag, and you were around to watch.
Before he does anything, Leon slips off his ring and tosses it to you, for safekeeping. "you know have pockets, right?"
"Oh, really? Never noticed," walking back over to the equipment, "now watch and learn, rookie,". He starts off with a couple of light warm-up hits, letting himself get comfortable. He's already sweating from the previous workout, his exposed arms glistening in the light. Somewhere in the middle of speeding up, he moves his soaked shirt over his head, taking it off, and letting it hit the floor.
"Pretty sure you're just giving the zombies more meat to bite with all these workouts."
"Well, if they could get their grubby hands on me then yeah." He huffs out jokingly, briefly glancing over at you. It takes a while before he starts fully swinging at it, the stand creaking loudly with each punch, right until the bag falls on its back from the final kick, landing against the floor with a thud. "Guess I still got it," he moves back over to you, sitting down on the bench beside you with a little smirk on his face.
"Alright, show off," you step from the wall to position yourself in front of him, taking the towel and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "your skin looks better..." The surface is smooth and even, completely different from last month. He guides your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, as if telling you exactly where to love him, the prickly stubble brushing against your palm. you use your free hand to wipe the hair stuck to his forehead away from his eyes.
"Yeah, remember I had that big spot right here," Leon pulls your hand onto the side of his neck, circling the area with your fingers, letting them linger before he drops them. he lets his voice lower to a whisper as he stands, seemingly trying to be romantic, "but hey, I'm still alive... and I'm all yours."
"Hey, at least take a shower first." You cover his lips before he gets to lean in any further.
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In honor of me being able to play 3 hours of re9 the second it dropped (I love u grace)
300 words
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Once a month, every month, Leon came up to you, the only man he trusted more than himself (his words), with sleek black hair shears in hand, just to ask, "wanna cut my hair?" He had multiple reasons for this. He told other people it was "easy on the wallet" or "why wouldn't he want his husband playing in his head all the time?" And he told you it was cause you had the magic touch, and while neither of those explanations is lying, they aren't fully the truth either.
Things are happening, and he's running out of time. A couple of months ago, he could afford to miss a date with you, but now, that privilege of time by himself seems like a complete waste. "Just a little trim would be nice," he lowers himself onto the stool, grunting a bit as he does.
"So you're still keeping... this?" You question, not meaning for it to sound as bad as it did
"Thought you liked my usual cut?"
You lean on him more, letting your heart beat against the back of his skull. "I do, but," you pause, taking a moment to choose your words more wisely, "don't you think it's a bit old... like haven't you had this shit since the 90s?"
"Okay okay... guess it would be nice for some change, just don't make me bald." He grumbles, fiddling with the gray streaks throughout the front of his hair.
You cut away at his hair, working at different angles and positions, before trimming down the sides, and the end result is! Chris Redfield? Both you and Leon stare in the mirror, eyeing his new look, even though it's not really his personal style, it's definitely not the ugliest thing he's seen on his head
Summery: Your old "friend" Batman pops by your apartment right before valentines, looking for a quick patch-up, just like old times.
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Somehow you knew he was there way before you even opened the door, and like always, you were right. His black, shadowy figure sprawled out on your little couch. It was almost fascinating how he could darken a room just with his presence alone. "so you still don't know how to knock?" You click the living room light on before moving to get the medkit from the bathroom.
"I don't have time for knocking." by the time you grab all of the equipment you'll need, he's already taken off his mask and he looks completely different from what you see on the news, besides the obvious injuries his slightly graying hair is messy and a little unkempt by his own standards, with his salt and pepper stubble fully replacing his usual clean shave "hope you don't mind all the blood." He grunts, pulling the hem of his suit over his head. It's not the worst you've seen, but it's still pretty bad: three stab wounds, a small gunshot wound and a tiny cut above his eyebrow.
"Oh wow... this isn't supposed to be my gift, right?"
You start with the slashing across his chest, thoroughly cleaning each cut before picking up the surgical stapler by your side, but the faint panting after the first staple makes you stop in your tracks. "Why'd you stop?" Bruce pushes out through his excessive panting
"Just so you can catch your breath, I mean, you're obviously in pain so-"
"Keep going," you wonder for a minute if he's joking or not, but.. it's Bruce, so of course he's not. After closing all that stuff off, it takes a hot second to get the bullet out and tidy that up, but you manage by yourself somehow. After you're done with that, you pull the gloves from your hands and the two masks from your face. He starts to stand with his usual readiness to get back out there, but you pull him back by his arm.
"Be patient, it's just one more thing and you're free to go." He stops right there before slowly lowering himself back on the couch. once he gets comfortable, you take his stubbly chin in your hand, lightly cleaning his face with the damp rag, "you know.. You could actually start wearing real armor, maybe then I'd actually get some rest for once."
"You of all people should know the implications of wearing something that heavy while climbing," Bruce grumbles, still making sure not to move too much in your grasp.
"A man can dream though." You wipe down his brow with one hand while holding his face with the other, your bare thumb grazing his bottom lip every time he breathes, "stay still." You stick a band-aid over the little cut on his cheek.
"I missed you."
"I know"... you know he misses you, that's literally the only reason he pops by all bloody and battered, is for a piece of your attention. It's not like he's trying to hide it, the way staring says it all. You lean in, slowly inching your mouth towards his. After all this time he still seems shocked when you make the first move, and though it generally does take him a second to recover from his shock and reciprocate, he definitely reciprocates. His rough stubble scratches against your chin as he moves into the kiss, neither of you rush it or try speeding things up, even with his phone vibrating under his cape.
—
On Valentine's morning, you walk out of the room to the very pleasant sight of Bruce leaning over the stove with his scarred back turned to you. You sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist when you get closer, "morning," he mumbles through his signature awkward smirk.
Some things never change. Not the feeling of his body pressed against yours. Or the smell of fresh-cooked breakfast, thank God no matter how many times you move around Gotham, he'll never forget where the pancake mix is.
Summery: hoping to win you back, Peter gives up his biggest secret for a second chance.
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You broke up with Peter almost a day ago, it was that one problem he couldn't work out that steered you away from him. he had absolutely no time management. It's always something about needing to handle work, or just doing random shit like volunteering without letting you know. And it wasn't like you didn't want him doing things for himself, or you needed him attached to your hip all the time. But the fact that he rarely told you anything.
The only reason you even knew where he worked was that you pushed for it, and that's just not how a relationship is supposed to work, so you broke it off. It wasn't some big grand sit-down moment, it was a quick but efficient text "im sorry peter but I don't think we're going to work out long term I only wish the best for you though." You let the message sit for a moment, just long enough to see him read it fully before finally removing him from your contacts, and that was the end.
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It was a long, painful work day, as always, and you were making some conversation while preparing to clock out with one of your work friends when she just randomly stopped talking, "Hey, do you know that guy?" Your eyes follow to where grace is pointing to see... Peters lean frame pushed on the glass door of the bakery, you can't see his face but his, build alone is enough to point him out.
"Um... yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." You make your way to the front, opening up the shop door to see what's going on "Peter.. why are you here?" For a second, he looks lost like always, but when he looks over and sees you, his face brightens dramatically as if you never left him. He's dressed up in dress shirt and jeans with no jacket, which makes you think maybe he came straight here after work.
He nervously shifts in his position, tugging on his slightly loose tie, almost completely avoiding eye contact. "I brought you some flowers, like I promised.. I didn't know what your favorites are, so I just got all of them." Never in your couple of months of dating have you ever seen him like this, he's... scared? He's all weird and jittery like he's waiting for you to confront him.
"I don't know why you'd do that, considering we're literally not together at all." Your gentle reminder still comes out a bit rough at the end, he stares at you for a moment completely silent with his mouth slightly ajar, the leafs on the bouquet starting to rustle from the rapid shaking of his hands, "I said what I said, that chapter of our lives is over, it was nice while it lasted but its still over." You let your words sit in the air, waiting for him to say something, yet he doesn't speak whatsoever, he's just standing there gripping your flowers with a stupid amount of force.
He must have thought he could just walk back up here and sweep you off your feet like nothing happened. You've had more than enough common sense to know it's never good to take a guy back. Before you get to walk away, Peter rushes by your side and grabs your hand in his, pleading, "Wait! Let me explain myself."
"Pete, I'm really sorry but-"
"Please let's just talk for like, one minute, okay? I swear it'll be worth your time."
"Peter."
"I'm Spider-man." Before you can even process anything, he lifts his shirt just enough for you to see the spider symbol hidden under it. he gave his whole identity up... for a second chance that's not even guaranteed?
"..Wait wait wait... so that's why you're always." He nods his head before you finish, the canceled dates, and the swift escapes, all because he's too busy saving people from trees. At least his attempt at distracting you worked. "im so confused, so you're not even a scientist?"
"No, no I'm still a research assistant, I just you know.. have to clock out a bit early," he says it so casually, like the hero thing's some side gig he doesn't think about much. At this point you can't really help but ask questions, like who else knows about his secret? a bunch of people must know by now if he's this quick to tell you, which he replies with, "Just you."
"I swear I'm trying to find a way to manage my time better, between you and work and being a hero." He moves closer, taking your other hand. "Ask me anything- or I don't know point out everything I've done wrong, but just please don't leave me... I can't lose you." He waits for you to call him out, or shove him away, but you don't do any of that, you instead pull him in to a hug, letting his face rest in the nape of your neck. All his worries slowly slip away in your hold, the comfortable warmth from your body slowing his heart rate to something more manageable.
The rest of your Valentine is spent on the roof of some random apartment building, indulging in a heart-shaped pizza, while you ask stupid questions about his powers and suit, which he happily replies to. You can spot him smiling at absolutely nothing when you aren't even saying anything. Guess he's just happy to have his boyfriend back
