KOSA is a bill being sent through Congress and the white house that is being labeled as protection for children, however, it'll be a major bill in regards to silencing LGBTQIA+ voices and content and pushing for the erasing of apps like Tumblr, Ao3, Wattpad, etc. If you live in America, this applies to you so I urge you to sign petitions you find and call representatives. The link above has a petition and a way of calling important people within the decision of passing the bill. It provides a script also so you don't feel awkward when talking to the people answering the calls!!
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summary ﹏ You have been serving at Rhaenyra's sides for years now, and you can't deny the tension between the two of you. When the silver-haired woman calls you to her chambers one night, you realize it's not as one-sided as you thought it was.
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / smut fic. gn!servant!reader. little to no decriptions of canon events. forbidden romance trope. mutual pining. power imbalance dynamic. emotional intimacy. dominant leaning partner. dub-con (during overstimulation (?)). praise. hair pulling. body worship. fingering (rhaenyra receiving). begging. breasts / nipples play. multiple orgasms. oral sex (rhaenyra receiving). bodily fluids focus (wetness). squirting. aftercare. implied continuation.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
The first thing you had learned when entering service to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was that everyone underestimated her.
They saw a young woman born into privilege, silver-haired and sharp-tongued, a princess who rode dragons and wore gowns stitched with gold thread. They whispered behind carved stone pillars and muttered beneath their breath about her temper, her defiance, her refusal to bend the way noble daughters were expected to bend.
But they did not see what you saw, no, they did not see the weight she carried.
The exhaustion behind violet eyes after another bitter dinner shared with her father’s council, the tension that sat permanently in her shoulders when Queen Alicent was around, the quiet fury simmering beneath her skin every time another lord spoke over her, questioned her, dismissed her. And so you treated her the way no one else seemed willing to: like royalty, like the queen she had all the rights to be.
At first, you had simply been one among many servants assigned to her chambers in Red Keep when she was younger, but then she had started requesting you, preferring the fact that you were both around the same age.
You were quieter than the others; never prying, never gossiping, never shrinking around her the way some did when she grew sharp or impatient. Eventually, somewhere over the passing months, you became the one she trusted most.
You prepared her chambers, pressed her dresses, fastened the intricate silver clasps and ribbons at the back of her gowns, brought her wine after particularly miserable council meetings and helped remove jewelry from her neck when she was too exhausted to do it herself. And somewhere between those long years and her father dying—something shifted.
It had happened gradually with a glance held too long, a touch lingering where it had never lingered before or the way silence between you no longer felt like the silence between princess and servant and neither of you had dared name it. Not yet, at least. Because naming it would make it real and you had no idea if you were even allowed to dream about it.
Something had changed for sure; you had served her for a bit more than two decades now, watching her grow into a woman but these past years, something had shifted between the both of you. You had traveled all the way to Dragonstone to stay with her as she became older, just to stay by her sides as she tried to take back what was rightfully hers.
You felt the tension between you both now more than ever, it was impossible not to and especially today.
The afternoon sun spilled through the open balcony doors of her chambers as you stood behind her, carefully fastening the final silver clasp of a deep crimson gown she had chosen for supper. The fabric hugged the curve of her waist elegantly, the dark red making her pale hair appear almost luminous where it tumbled over bare shoulders.
Your fingers brushed the nape of her neck, you paused. It was accidental, barely even a touch if you were honest. But immediately—you felt Rhaenyra inhale; it was sharp, noticeable, her back straightening. Your own breath caught at her reaction and you stared at the pale skin exposed beneath her hair.
You should pull away.
But instead of moving, you remained there; too close, far too close for someone of your status. In front of you, her reflection stared back through the polished mirror: she was watching you.
Your fingers remained frozen against her neck. Then softly, words left her mouth. “You have become terribly hesitant around me.” Her voice was lower than usual. You immediately pulled your hand away, feeling your fingers trembling. “My apologies, my Queen.”
Her eyes narrowed in the mirror. “There.” You frowned slightly in curiosity, not understanding what she meant. “My Queen?”
“That tone.” She turned slowly in her chair until she faced you completely, close enough that your knees nearly brushed hers. “That overly formal tone you use whenever you grow nervous. I know it by heart now.” You swallowed.
“I do not know what you mean.”
A smile pulled faintly at her mouth. “You are lying.” You looked away immediately, and she noticed. Of course she noticed, Rhaenyra always noticed things when it came to you, it was nothing new.
She leaned back lazily against the chair. “You know…” she murmured. “I remember when you first entered my service.” You glanced back at her. “You could barely look at me.” The words almost bring a smile out to your face but you stop it from happening. “I was terrified back then.” You only reply to her and that earned a quiet laugh from her.
“Yes, I recall.” Her gaze moved over your face, slowly, too slowly. “And now?” Your throat felt dry, you can feel your heart beating inside your chest; loud and fast. “Now what, my Queen?” She tilted her head, her violet eyes looking at you.
“Are you still terrified of me?”
Silence.
You could hear your own heartbeat, once again.
She was doing this intentionally; pushing, testing. And Gods help you—you wanted her to keep going. You cleared your throat, then. “I respect you.” The words left your mouth so easily because it was only the truth. “That is not what I asked.” The room had suddenly become too warm and you tried stepping backward but she noticed immediately.
Her hand shot forward and wrapped gently around your wrist just to still you. Every muscle in your body locked and your back straightened just to appear taller than you already were. Her fingers were warm, they were soft against your skin.
Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered downward toward where she held you before her violet orbs slowly lifted again.
“No.” Her voice was velvet. “You are not frightened of me anymore, right?”
You couldn’t answer because the truth sat heavily in your chest, in your brain, inside all of your thoughts. She was right about it; you weren’t scared of her anymore, you were scared of the fact that you wanted her. That you wanted to feel her love, her skin against yours, her breath mingling with your own.
She released you after several endless seconds and the absence of contact felt immediate: it was cold and you felt empty about it. Rhaenyra stood, the movement forced you back half a step but even then, she stood directly in front of you.
The scent of jasmine oil drifted from her skin, you could see every little thread of silver-white hair from her head, or the way her violet eyes looked at you. Her voice softened when she spoke up. “Tell me something.”
“Yes, my Queen?” Again, that smile when you used her title. You cursed yourself internally at the use of it; like it was inked into your brain and you couldn’t do much about it. She stepped around you toward the balcony.
“Why do you insist on calling me that when I’ve said before you could be informal with me?” You turned to face her, curiosity on your face like you didn’t understand the meaning of her words. “Because you are the Queen, I must respect it. I believe it.”
She looked toward the sea in the distance. “But that is not why you say it.”
You stayed silent and she folded her arms, speaking up once more for you to hear. “Others call me Queen because they are required to.” She turned her head slightly, then. “You say it as though you are reminding yourself.”
Your pulse jumped, heart skipping a beat inside your chest. You had not realized she had noticed, but Rhaenyra noticed every single detail about every single thing. There was no way of escaping that, not as a servant.
Because every time you called her Queen—it was to remind yourself what she was. To you, she was untouchable, fire and way beyond you. She watched your silence carefully as you were thinking, then finally smiled faintly.
“You may go.” You blinked. “My Queen?”
She faced forward again, her hands grabbing the rocky balcony. All you could think about was how you’d kill to intertwine your fingers with hers; even if for just a second, just a moment with her. “I shall see you later.” Something in the way she said it made your stomach twist. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, you told yourself. So you bowed your head quickly. “Yes, My Queen.”
You turned and left the chambers, but you could feel her watching you all the way to the door or how her violet eyes seemed to never leave your form.
Night settled heavily over the castle: the humid corridors of Dragonstone had quieted considerably now, servants retreating to lower quarters while guards changed shifts beneath torchlight.
You sat alone in the servant chambers attempting to focus on repairing a torn sleeve from one of the younger princes’ tunics. It was impossible; your mind kept replaying the afternoon.
How Rhaenyra’s hand around your wrist, her eyes and the way she had stood impossibly close. Her deliberate teasing, the knowing look she wore every time your composure slipped. You pressed a hand over your face. Gods. What was happening? And worse: why had she suddenly decided to act on whatever this tension was between you?
A knock sounded sharply against the wooden door, which made you look up. Another servant stood there, squirming on her feet before speaking quietly. “The Queen requests you.” Your heart stopped, the sun had settled down, your chores were over. There was no need for Rhaenyra to call you this late. “Now?” The servant nodded once, timid.
You stood immediately, your hands suddenly felt cold and trembling as you wondered what would happen now. Have you made a mistake? Were you impolite earlier?
“Thank you.” You voiced to the servant before leaving the room. The walk through the corridors felt endless; every footstep louder than the last. You reached her chambers and the guards outside said nothing. One opened the heavy door, you stepped inside, quietly, heart skipping a beat inside your chest.
The door closed right behind you, loud and competing with the pace of your heart. You froze; the room was dimly lit with candles burned low across the chamber walls. The balcony doors stood open, allowing cool night air to drift through white silk curtains.
And there, across the room, Rhaenyra sat at the edge of her bed, waiting. She was no longer wearing the crimson gown from earlier, nor the heavy jewelries of the day. Instead, a loose ivory sleeping shift hung from her frame, thin and sheer enough that the candlelight caught every movement beneath the fabric. Her silver hair spilled freely over bare shoulders.
She looked impossibly beautiful. Dangerously so.
Your throat tightened and you lowered your gaze immediately. “You called for me, my Queen?” A long silence took over the room, the only thing you could hear was the waves crashing over the rocks of Dragonstone.
Then, her voice, quiet and soft. “Come closer.” You obeyed without thinking about it twice; each step felt heavier than the next but you felt your body buzzing. You stopped several feet away from her position and she frowned slightly. “I said closer.” It was an order, you felt like, and obeyed it for a second time.
You stepped forward again, now only a breath separated you. Rhaenyra tilted her head upward to look at you, her violet eyes seemed to analyze your everything. There was no teasing now, no, only something deep and unreadable burning behind violet eyes. She studied your face quietly, like she was searching for something in your expression.
“Tell me truthfully.” You forced yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke, curiosity on your face at that moment. “Yes?” Her voice lowered, you tilted your head to the side when hearing the next sentence. “Have you noticed it too?” You knew exactly what she meant, obviously.
But still, you whispered. “Noticed what?” One of her hands rose until slender fingers brushed against your wrist; at the exact same place she had touched you earlier. Her index paused at your pulse point, she could feel your heart skipping a beat and she hummed quietly, like it was exactly what she was searching for; a proof.
“This.” The word barely left her lips and her fingers moved upward, finally. She traced the inside of your forearm, watching every reaction cross your face.
You stood utterly still, unable to move, unable to breathe properly. Your thoughts were in shambles and you wondered if this was allowed; if you were allowed to dream about this again. Her hand reached your elbow, then higher and the soft fabric of your tunic wrinkled beneath her fingertips.
Rhaenyra spoke again. “For weeks now…” Her voice had gone quieter, like it was a secret only you were allowed to hear. “…I have watched you look at me when you think I do not notice.” Your chest tightened painfully but she continued, not aware of it. “You linger when fastening my gowns.” Her fingers reached your shoulder. “You stare when brushing my hair.” Her thumb dragged lightly over your collarbone. “And every time I touch you…”
She leaned forward slightly now, so close her breath warmed your skin and you almost gasped at the feeling of it. “…you stop breathing.” You swallowed hard, saliva stuck down your throat like a ball of words not ready to be said yet.
“Queen Rhaenyra…” She smiled softly at the title leaving your mouth. “Look at me.” Her fingers reached your jaw now, tilting your face fully toward hers. Your body had stopped functioning entirely; every thought scattered, your muscles relaxed, your pupils blown out. Her thumb traced your lower lip and she watched the movement with quiet fascination.
She ended up whispering to you. “Tell me how you feel.” You forced words out somehow; even if they weren’t what you truly wanted to say. “I should not.”
“Why?” Rhaenyra asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the words leaving your mouth like she couldn’t understand them. Like that wasn’t what she was waiting for. “You know why.” You only voiced back to you. A dangerous spark flashed in her eyes then; she refused that. “Say it.” Your chest rose sharply at the tone of her words, even though you weren’t scared of her.
“You are my Queen.”
“No.”
She leaned closer. “I’m so much more than that and you know it.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. You stared at her; unable to think for what felt like hours. She stood from the bed then and the sudden movement forced you instinctively to the side until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. And even then, she kept advancing, closing the distance again until your body nearly touched hers.
Rhaenyra stared up at you and neither of you breathing normally now.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, a dragon cried across the dark skies over Dragonstone. A cry that you recognized to be Syrax.
Inside the chamber—silence. It was heavy and charged with tension that you had never felt before, a tension that you had dreamed of for weeks now, if not months and years. Her fingers slipped slowly beneath your chin, holding you there. Her voice was quiet and soft when she spoke again, breathing against your face. “I grow tired…” Her lips hovered dangerously close now. “…of being the only one brave enough to do something about this.”
Your entire body went still; there was nowhere to look except her mouth and she noticed; a slow smile touched her lips.
Rhaenyra leaned closer, not kissing you yet but leaving only inches between you like she was giving you the choice to do something about it. Her voice became barely more than a whisper after a second of silence. “Tell me to stop.” Your lips parted but no words came because you couldn’t deny that you wanted it as much as she did.
Her thumb stroked your jaw once, eyes locked onto yours and the silence stretched without a single word leaving your mouth. You couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is what I thought.” The whisper hit your ear and with one final slow step forward, your legs gave way against the edge of the bed behind you.
Rhaenyra followed immediately with one hand braced beside your shoulder against the mattress, the other still cradling your face. Silver hair fell around both of you like moonlight and her gaze dropped to your lips again before they returned to your eyes. Her own breathing now uneven and just before the space between you disappeared entirely, she whispered against your mouth. “Tonight…”
Her fingers tightened slightly at your jaw. “I would very much like you to stop calling me Queen. Use my name.”
She didn’t wait for a reply from you before her lips found yours in a heated kiss; a kiss that transcended how much she had waited for it. Her hand tilted your jaw up as she pressed her mouth harder against your own. Both of your hands lifted up, hovering over her waist and the thin fabric of her nightgown like you weren’t totally sure if you had the right to touch her. Rhaenyra pulled away just to look at you. “Don’t think too much about it. Just focus on me.”
The words broke you out of your thoughts and just before you realized, you had rolled her over onto the mattress, now being the one on top. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes were wide for a tiny second before she relaxed and smiled at you; still guarded, but open.
“Is this alright?” You still asked, making sure you weren’t pushing it too far. She only nodded at you before both her hands cupped your jaw, bringing you back into a kiss. A whine escaped you, muffled by her lips as you kissed; you could feel the warmth of her skin, her breath against your face, her body under yours.
One of your hands moved to her thigh, lifting the sheet fabric of her nightgown upward to her stomach; Rhaenyra gasped against your mouth at the feeling of your cold fingertips on her skin. “You can touch me. I want you to.” The words left her mouth and you nodded, bringing her back into a kiss. A multitude of thoughts appeared in your mind, all those disappearing when the woman beneath you rolled her hips up.
Her hands curled around your neck, fingers through your hair as she pulled you closer.
Your fingertips sneaked toward her core as she opened her legs for you; it was warm, already wet as you pushed two fingers between her folds. The kiss was broken just so Rhaenyra could moan, her eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your digits teasing her pussy. You smeared wetness around, making sure to slick her clit before your digits lowered to her hole.
“Gods, please, do not tease me.” She spoke, her violet eyes focusing on your face as you rubbed the entrance of her pussy; the muscles there clenching at the touch. You ended up licking your lips, looking down at her cunt and back up at her face. “I’m not—Alright, let me…” You focused, your mouth falling open like you were the one receiving the touch. The tip of your fingers pushed against her hole, her thighs trembling and you forced your fingers inside her.
Rhaenyra gasped, her back arching from the bed and toward you as you sighed. Her walls were warm and tight around your fingers; pulsating and clenching just to accommodate for you. You waited until you had permission to move. “Go, move—” The silver-haired woman spoke from under you, her forehead already glistening with sweat; the air around the chamber was humid and filled with tension.
Your eyebrows furrowed once more as you moved your fingers inside her, curling them to press against her inner-wall. Everything was so wet and warm, making it easier to pump your digits in and out, creating quiet squelching noises. Your orbs moved upward to focus on Rhaenyra’s face, her fingers ended up tugging at your hair which made you hiss and curl your fingers more.
“Your touch… is all I’ve wanted for weeks now. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” The words left her mouth is a quiet and soft tone, like she couldn’t believe to be this open with you. Like she was scared you could reject her and what she also felt for you. Your heart skipped a beat inside your chest, sweat forming at your back.
“Rh—Rhaenyra…” You stuttered the name, testing it on your tongue as it was your first time using it.
Her walls clenched around your fingers then, making you pump faster inside her. “Gods!” She gasped, eyes wide as the heel of your palm slapped against her sensitive clit, rubbing it while you searched for that one spot. The hand that was keeping you up fell from the mattress, just for your elbow to take its place. “Please, let me touch you more. Please, Rhaenyra.” You begged her.
The tugging on your hair softened before both her hands moved to cup your jaw once more, bringing you into a new kiss as you kept fingering her pussy. It felt like permission to you, and so, even with difficulties, your free hand moved to unknot the ribbon of her nightgown. The fabric slowly revealed her bare breasts, her perky nipples and her pale skin. When you both separated from the kiss, you didn’t lose any seconds before wrapping your mouth around one of her buds.
Rhaenyra moaned at the feeling, back arching up.
The fingers you had inside her sloppy pussy slowed, making her squirm beneath you. One of her hands moved to tug back on your hair, actually pushing your head closer to her chest at the same time. You moaned around her nipple at that; sucking and lapping at the bud, rolling your tongue around before gently nipping at it. You felt how her walls clenched around your digits and how squirmy she was being.
“Gods, you know how to touch me so well—please, do not stop.” She moaned out, her thighs shaking around your hand. You pulled away from her chest, letting go of her nipple in a loud pop! noise.
Your fingers were making a mess of her pussy as more wetness leaked out of her sloppy hole, slicking her clit and making her inner-thighs glisten. Rhaenyra’s hands moved to tug at the bedsheets, her knuckles white from the strength she had, all due to the pleasure she felt.
“You’re clenching around my fingers, Rhaenyra, Gods!” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, your eyes lowering to where your fingers disappeared; loud squelching noises now echoing in the room.
Her head rolled to the side, hiding in the sheets as you fastened your pace. Your palm slapped against her clit, your fingertips rubbing at the spot right after her entrance. Rhaenyra’s hips rolled toward your hand as the pleasure kept coursing through her body.
Diving your head back toward your chest, you decided to press kisses along her sternum, under her tits and toward her bellybutton. She gasped at the sensation, moans leaving her mouth that vibrated against the rocky walls and hit your ears. It was beautiful, melodic, and powerful. “You sound so good, Rhaenyra… You’re doing so good for me.” The words left your mouth, whispered to her which made her violet eyes focus on your face.
“You have to make me come, now. I need to come on your fingers.” Is all she replied, making you take a deep breath. Your mouth traveled back to her tits and there, you decided to wrap your lips around her second nipple; sucking on it as she moaned. Your tongue pressed against the bud, rolling around it before you sucked harder. “Yes, oh Gods!” Her back arched up from the bed, pushing her breast harder against your mouth.
Her sloppy pussy clenched around your digits as they hit her g-spot; rubbing at the velvety walls vigorously. Her thighs shook, her hips jerked up as the pleasure coursed through her body. “I’m going to come! Don’t stop now!” You heard as you nibbled onto her nipple, suckling, letting saliva leak from the corner of your mouth and onto her breast.
At her words, you even fastened your digits, pumping inside her pussy. The muscles of your arm were burning now, begging to be relaxed but you didn’t listen to them; you couldn’t listen to them until Rhaenyra had come.
Both her hands moved once more, fingers grabbing at the fabric of your tunic to pull you closer to her warm body. It is with your palm hitting her clit hard with skin slapping skin noises that she finally came; crying out your name and shaking against the bed. Her muscles contracted and she squirmed.
“Gods! Yes, please! I’m coming! Fuck!” Her voice was loud in the chamber but neither of you seemed to care much about it, too focused on the moment.
The view of her with her glistening forehead and disheveled hair made something snap inside you—your fingers kept pumping inside her; even faster which made her gasp as her orgasm prolonged. Her head rolled onto the mattress as you lowered yourself with a newfound energy; just to press your mouth to her sloppy cunt. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened at the feeling of your tongue lapping at her clit and she pulled herself up on her elbows just to look at you, her legs shaking around your head.
Your free hand moved to spread her thighs open just to have a clear view of her pussy; glistening, slick and sloppy. “What are you doing?” She simply asked, her muscles still trembling but you only lifted your gaze up to look at her as you ate her out, shaking your head against her pussy as you flicked her clit with the tip of your tongue. She moaned, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and hips rolling upward.
Your mouth pulled away just so you could split a glob of saliva onto her sensitive clit, watching it drip between her wet folds and mix with her juices until it stopped at her hole, where your fingers were still buried. Your fingers pulled out just for a second, pushing your saliva inside her cunt before slamming back inside.
Your digits picked up the pace then, never faltering as Rhaenyra moaned. “Please—Gods, I can’t! Feels too good!” She cried out as your fingertips found her g-spot directly.
Head diving back to her cunt, you wrapped your mouth around her clit and sucked onto it, feeling her clit pulsate on your tongue. Tears formed at the corner of Rhaenyra’s eyes due to the pleasure, her mouth falling wide open as she spoke. “No! I’m going to come again… Gods, t-too much!” Her hips rolled toward your face and you sucked harder on her clit all while your fingers pumped inside her sloppy pussy. Her wetness was making everything more slick; her skin glistening with your saliva and juices.
Your tongue pressed against her sensitive nub before you pulled away in a loud pop! noise, now teasing her clit with flickers of your tongue. Once more, her gummy walls clenched around your digits and she squirmed. “Gods, no! Coming! I’m coming!” She cried out as you lapped at her cunt, tasting her juices on your buds. You licked flat strips between her folds before going back to her clit, sucking on it harder than before.
Rhaenyra wasn’t lying; she came again, but stronger this time. “Fuck! Fuck, please!” The cursing was loud, echoing against the walls as you kept going; your fingertips rubbing at her g-spot, your tongue flickering her clit.
“Please, Rhaenyra, keep coming for me.” You spoke against her cunt as she squirmed, elbows giving up and back arching. You lapped at her pussy, gathering her wetness on the tip of your tongue before sucking back on her clit.
She didn’t have time to warn you before her pussy clenched and her juices flowed out; hitting your face but more precisely, your mouth. You gasped in surprise, your jaw slacking immediately as you opened your lips to taste her. Your fingers kept pumping inside her, your free hand moving to rub at her clit with three fingers so she’d kept coming. Rhaenyra cried, body convulsing with the pleasure she felt, her thighs trying to close but you wouldn’t let her.
She squirted more as you overstimulated her clit and g-spot and it’s only once all the juices flowed out of her that you gently pulled your digits out.
The room was silent of words; only loud with whining and loud breathing. The bed creaked under your weight as you moved to sit on your knees, cleaning your face and fingers onto the fabric of your tunic. Rhaenyra was silent but watched you, face glistening with sweat. A few minutes passed as you also tried to breath again, asking yourself if all of this was a dream.
“Come here—” She spoke to you, waving you closer. You listened, crawling next to her body before falling down to imitate her position. Her body immediately melted into yours and one of your hands moved to grab her own.
“You were amazing.” She spoke, violet eyes looking at your face. “You made me feel amazing.” She added and you sighed at the words. “This is all I ever wished for, Rhaenyra.” You voiced back.
Her free hand lifted to your face, caressing the soft skin there. “Stay with me until the morning?” Her words were quiet but you felt all the feelings inside them; how she kept you close to her heart. “Am I truly allowed?” You whispered and she nodded, eyes searching for yours through the semi-darkness. “You are allowed, yes.”
“Then, I would love to stay with you, Rhaenyra.” A smile decorated her face for a while before she leaned her face closer to yours, pressed a kiss to your lips that lingered. When she pulled away, her hands gently undid the knot of your tunic, freeing your skin from the warmth of it.
“Let me show you how good I can also make you feel?”
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still living with my parents as an adult is just like. i'm grateful to not have to pay for groceries. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful to have a roof over my head and not have to pay rent. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful to not have to worry about sending out endless job applications that all lead to nowhere. i have to get out of here. i'm grateful i'm grateful i'm so fucking grateful. i have to get out of here
would you ever write for rough around the edges again??
Fantastic question! It's been a long time since I've even thought about that fic but I have missed D.C. and writing for Adrian since I did a small fic for Rick Flag JR. So, I'll definitely consider it :)
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: The long awaited tension between you and Leon finally breaks through, choosing vulnerability over hesitation- leading to unspoken feelings being laid bare. Not in perfection, but promises are made, ones of staying and trying. And as the two of you assist the about-to-be newly-wed couple, you realise this is the beginning of something hopeful.
He leaned over, and you raised yourself to meet him, your lips crashing against each other in a breathless, long-forgotten rhythm.
You didn’t think your lips would be on his ever again.
His hands slowly encouraged you upwards, onto his lap. You lowered yourself onto him, one arm curling around his neck, the other cradling his cheek, both of your thighs bracketing him in a gentle claim. Eyes blooming under the slither of moonlight and cheeks dusted with pink, he looked at you as if you hung the stars. Wrapped up in his leathery scent, your thumb ran along his rough jaw, every prickle, every hair you wanted to commit to memory. Your faces were so close that one small shift would bring your lips back to his.
The intensity with which he stared at you was reminiscent of his drunkenness on your porch, where his restraints were blurred and his desires were driven.
The tender loving in your eyes reigned back, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, only this close to you could Leon notice it.
“You’re not going to leave after this, are you?” you whispered, searching for the certainty in his face, like he was going to get on one knee and hand it to you.
“Hey…” his gaze fluttering over yours. His fingers reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear, his jaw tensing. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m being serious, Leon. I can’t do that again,” you said weakly, breaking the eye contact, holding onto his hand and bringing it close to your chest. “I’m not something you come to when it’s convenient for you.”
He noticed how soft your eyelashes seemed when you looked down, the way they sweetly spread and then when they fluttered when his hand squeezed your hip. The longing to memorise every outline of your body overtook his brain again, to cherish you at your most vulnerable. But he didn’t know he had already achieved that. Holding you in that elevator and taking care of you when you had a fever was only second nature to him. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
“I know,” he exhaled, his fingers tracing up and down your arm.
“You left before,” you murmured, eyes following his movements.
He shook his head slightly, shame coating him. He chose the route that came to him with ease. His hands were used to handling the cold metal of guns rather than gliding along the silkiness of your skin. A body built for a war, not a body built for these incomprehensible feelings. Your love for him only set off the unimaginable, every time you smiled sweetly at him, every time your fingers brushed against his, every time you blushed when he stared at you for too long—you were stepping on landmines. And with each loving explosion, his walls came crumbling down.
“I know. I’m not choosing you because you’re convenient. This is far from that,” his fingers traced down your jaw, bringing your eyes back to his pale blues, “But you know what my job demands of me. I can’t promise you I won’t have to go. But I’m not going to disappear again. Not without a word or the choice of you asking me to stay.”
“And if I ask?”
“I’ll stay.”
The twisting steel around your chest loosened.
“Good.”
You still weren’t fully sure of yourself, but his lips sealed against yours, convincing you otherwise.
The gentle sweetness of the kiss was not comparable to the other kisses you had shared with him. His fingers clung around the fabric of your sweater, as if you were going to slip through his fingers, or maybe he felt he was slipping and he needed you to ground himself. They slowly shifted around your back, pushing you towards him. There was nothing desperate or needy about the way his lips slotted around yours, he knew there was no need to rush the moment. He could savour you, because he wasn’t going anywhere. Even when running was the easiest thing, even when choosing you would complicate things. Even when his walls became debris.
His harsh stubble tickled your chin, his nose brushing against yours and you shifted yourself on his lap, your thumb rubbing circles into his neck. You felt the warm exhales from his nose stroke your cheek, the sweet, delicious sounds of your lips around his.
Both of you pulled away, foreheads resting on one another, breaths tangling. A breathy laugh slipped from your lips, light and breathless, and as if it was contagious, Leon began to do the same. His laugh was always boyish, and the slight youthful essence touching him all over again brought a relief to you, a warmth settling on your cheeks.
He leaned back in, licking a stripe down your bottom lip with his tongue before kissing you again, and again, and again. The fluttering kisses fell down your chin and down the curve of your neck, each one lingering and blooming a warmth.
“You know, the first week you weren’t here,” he planted another kiss as he explained, “people were asking ‘Where’s salt and pepper?’.”
You threw your head back, chuckling, “You’re kidding.”
He leaned back, looking at you with a smirk tugging on his lips.
“Nope. And hear this, they said where is salt. Meaning I am pepper,” he claimed, happy and victorious.
“You are not pepper!”
He let out a small mocking hum before kissing you again. His body went still, the warmth of his breath replacing the absence of his lips.
“I missed you,” he said softly, the words barely anything more than the air between you. His hardened edges were giving way.
“I know you did,” you weaved your fingers through his chestnut brown hair, as he continued to gaze at you with an incredibly flustered expression, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Lips parted, his pink cheeks and red ears, an endearing sight.
“I don’t want to keep getting this wrong with you,” he admitted, his brows furrowing.
It would be a lie to say you hadn’t changed him. The way light seeped into his office when you arrived, the way his plants gained their posture and bloomed so beautifully under your touch. Just the subtle feeling of looking forward to seeing you had crept upon him so gently he didn’t even realise. Every time he lay in bed, the daily mental battle of getting up, it was you that his thoughts so easily, so naturally drew to. After seeing the way your lip quivered and you hand hung onto his absent figure when he pulled away in your kitchen, he crashed into his cabinet and drained every last bottle into his sink.
But it was also a lie to say he hadn’t changed you. You didn’t fold in on yourself in the office anymore, making yourself a doormat for those who take advantage. The continuous habit of doubting yourself over small things disappeared, your voice no longer thinned, it thickened. You blossomed next to him.
“You’re going to,” you said bluntly, “But I will too.”
Your finger drew down the slope of his nose.
“We won’t be able to be perfect for each other all the time. But if you do mess up, you can’t run.”
“I won’t. I want to stay with you,” he confessed, his thumbs absentmindedly running circles on your hips.
You both looked at each other, and with some sort of telepathic, mutual understanding you knew you were both exhausted. Leon carefully brought your back to lay on the couch, and he followed, until your head rested on his chest. He brought his worn-down hand and placed it on the top of your head, softly stroking your hair, his other hand protective around your waist.
Something as delicate as this moment, as silky as your skin, he felt, shouldn’t be handled by the roughness of his fingertips. He liked the familiarity of you behind your desk, untouched by the horrors he had seen, the blood on his hands, untouched by him. It wasn’t a desire to keep you pure; it was a nauseating self-deprecating thought because touching you was going to get you hurt—like he had done already before.
He felt like a baby learning to walk, navigating his emotions. Like you had unplugged this strangling knot in his chest, stripping him naked of all the dark black he had lost himself in, and now he was bare in front of you. This thought formed a pressure in his throat, but he only held you closer, and you slung your leg around his, burying yourself in his chest.
The thought of him leaving was stringing in your mind, petrifying you. His hesitation at letting himself desire what he wanted, at letting himself deserve things frustrated you. Because not only was it hurting him, but it was hurting you too. His selflessness had become selfishness.
“Leon?” you whispered, slightly muffled by your mouth pressing on his chest.
“Yeah?” the vibrations of his voice were felt against your cheek.
“Did you remember to water the plants in our office?”
He laughed a little, shifting you closer to him.
“For once, yeah.”
And that was good enough of a reply for you.
────୨ৎ────
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but here you were, spread-out on Leon’s body. A soft groan left your lips as the harsh sunlight blinded you, forgetting to enjoy the blissful split-second of being completely in your mind before reality hit you and your chest would tighten like it always did.
“Leon?”
He grunted, shifting himself around you, holding you closer.
“Leon?!” You said with more alarm.
He grunted again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.
“What’s the time?!” You asked, shaking his broad frame.
Then, he finally shot up, his eyes widening, “Shit,” swiping his phone off the side. It read 10.30am. His fringe was stuck upwards, and it reassured you that not even the Leon Kennedy could look perfect in the morning.
Sherry needed the two of you there for 11am. It took 15 minutes to get there. You both exchanged hopeless looks.
“Oh my God. We forgot about the arch.” Your hands began to push back your hair before you gestured at him, “Go—go shower, I’ll take care of the painting.”
You patted down his hair and moved yourself off of him.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, pushing himself up and walking down the hallway.
You picked up the paintbrush that you left yesterday, not even allowing your brain to process the confession and intimate moment you had with Leon last night. Right now, your focus was to be there for Sherry, you couldn’t make her panic any more than she was doing already.
“Okay, your turn. I’ll load this into my car,” he pointed at you, and then gestured behind him to the bathroom, his hair wet. Obediently, you nodded and hurried down into the bathroom, peeling the clothes from yesterday onto the floor.
As the water trickled down your body, you were incredibly grateful for how Sherry told you to get ready with her at the venue, so you didn’t have to arrive with much. You used Leon’s soaps, a perverting intrusion you thought—oddly intimate. There was a bar of soap that smelled incredibly plain, military style, just something that did the job. Then there was a dark green bottle, with some fancy golden top, with the woody notes neatly under the label. You scanned the bathroom further, and there were two more bottles—identical to the previous—labelled shampoo and conditioner. Of course. Every time you think he couldn’t get more practical, he managed to continue to surprise you.
It was at times like these that you also became very grateful for the emergency underwear you carried in your handbag. You knew it would come in handy one day.
You stepped out of the bathroom, clean and dry, your face radiating with a new-found cleanliness—aka Leon’s expensive face wash.
Leon was stood in front of the mirror, his collar pointed upwards as he put on his bowtie. His focus was drawn back to you, his knotted eyebrows relaxing as he saw the small smile on your lips. He patted down his collar and turned to you.
“You ready?” he asked, sliding his suit jacket on.
“Yeah—yeah,” you said, a few seconds too late.
He was effortlessly attractive. Even in a ridiculous bowtie. The glaze of the sunlight kissed his cheeks, his piercing eyes highlighted by the rays. His rough, grey stubble was illuminated, surrounding the pillowy lips that your eyes lingered on.
“Let’s go. Don’t want to worry Sherry.”
You got in his car, your last interaction in it rising in your memory before you could stop it—kissing him on the cheek. It still smelled the same, it still was in the same pristine condition you left it in. He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at you briefly before turning the engine on. Shifting your feet, you kept your eyes glued on the window.
Despite the sameness of the car, everything else had changed.
It was like someone had completely changed the arrangement of your bedroom, but when you tried to put it back to the way it was, you couldn’t remember. Nothing new, nothing missing—just different. The two of you had become so comfortable and used to the feeling of wanting one another, you never really thought about what it would mean to actually have it.
“I was thinking, maybe at the end of the week,” Leon began, clearing his throat, “you would like to go on a date with me.”
His knuckles went white around the steering wheel, jaw clenching.
The moment stilled, and you thought that your brain had forgotten to process time and the words were waiting to land.
“I would like that, Leon,” you turned to him, smiling, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies in your stomach. You only wanted to bury your face in your hands and squeal, but you weren’t a teenage girl anymore.
“Okay,” he nodded, subtly relaxing in his seat.
The rest of the drive continued in the familiar silence that was shared between you. You wouldn’t describe it as exactly silence, it was much softer than that, but to sit in it with him was a privilege you wouldn’t give away to anyone else.
When he pulled up to the venue, reality snapped into place.
“C’mon, let’s get the arch,” he said after a few seconds of silence in the still car.
“Yes, sir,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes before shutting the door behind him.
────୨ৎ────
In the dressing room,
“There you are!” Sherry gasped, almost tripping as she walks over in her long dress, “where’s the arch? Where’s Leon?”
Despite her panicked state, she was ethereal. The way the sun made her blond hair look like a halo and her white dress glow, she was an angel. A small, minimalist silver necklace sat around her pale chest, glimmering. You always thought she was beautiful, model-worthy, but this was just something else.
“Sherry, everything is fine. Leon is bringing in the arch now,” you reassured her, holding her hand. “You look amazing,” you added, quieter.
Her glossy lips curved into a smile.
“Thank you. Thank you for fixing the arch. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you two,” she said, squeezing your hand, “You look happier. Actually, you’re glowing.”
She inspected your face closely, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” you questioned, trying not to get sniffed out by her.
“Something happened between you and Leon,” she concluded.
“I don’t think this is the time to be talking about this,” you said quickly, seeing your bridesmaid dress laid out neatly on a seat by the window.
“Did you two fu—“
“Sherry! Seriously! It’s your wedding, let’s talk about you!” you cut her off, eyes widening at what she was implying.
“At least tell me what happened,” she insisted, putting her hands on her hips.
“We… talked,” you admitted shyly.
“And?”
“He wants to stay.”
Her expression shifted into something softer, not the teasing one she had before. The relief of her lack of judgement was consoling, considering the dynamics between you all. She only put you forth to keep Leon stable at work, and to push you out of your shell—it seemed to have worked, a little too well.
“That’s huge,” she stated, eyebrows raised.
Nodding slowly, you picked up your dress, feeling its silkiness under your fingertips.
“So. Did you at least kiss?” she asked innocently, stepping towards you. A grin was playing on her face.
“Sherry!”
You face gave it all away before you could explain yourself.
“You did!” she laughed, “How many times? Once or twice or… much more?”
“We’re talking about you now! And how you’re about to get married to the love of your life!” you exclaimed. She turned around, her back to you to give you privacy as you changed.
“Yeah. I am. I’m terrified,” she confessed, her shoulders caving in on themselves.
The soft thud of your clothes hitting the floor seemed louder than her words. Your fingers reached out slowly to the dress. You couldn’t see her face, but there was a vivid image of it crumpling. She hardly brought up Jake at work; you only really found out about him when she announced she was going to get married. You didn’t know what he did for work, you didn’t know how she met him, but when he was mentioned, you knew he was worth it after seeing the smile on her face.
“Hey,” you said firmer now, “that’s completely normal.”
“I just… I feel like there’s going to be a massive change. And I’m not ready for it,” she sighed, gripping the edge of the table.
You paused. You hated being put on the spot when it came to emotional support. You were never any good at it, words leaving your brain at the worst times. But you gave her only the words that you needed to hear yourself.
“That’s because there is going to be a massive change. But it’s going to be a good change,” you chirped, nodding in agreement with your own words.
“What if I hate it? What if I mess it up?” she asked, her grip tightening around the table. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, every possible scenario or nightmare occurring through her brain.
“You will. And so will he. But you and Jake love each other enough to figure it out together,” you said too quickly, slightly muffled as you figured it was easier to pull the dress over your head.
“Hm. Sounds familiar.”
“Funny that,” you mumbled, adjusting the straps on your dress, “you can turn around now.”
“Aw! You look beautiful!” she clapped her hands together, a smile slipping back onto her lips, “The makeup artist is in the other room.”
“I can’t believe you got a whole makeup artist.”
“I would’ve done it myself, but I was just so curious,” she held your shoulders and began to guide you out of the room.
────୨ৎ────
You walked out the room, your face freshly touched by powders and brushes. The arch was placed down the aisle now, wrapped in fresh flowers. Guests had begun to arrive, a few familiar faces from work, the rest—you had absolutely no idea. Soft, vintage music was playing, gracing the room with a cheerful presence alongside the laughter that bubbled. Glasses of champagne were lined up on the side, golden bubbles fizzing upwards.
Leon was sat on a dark oak bench, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was haunted with the same deep-in-thought expression he always had when you left him alone for too long. The clicking of your heels against the floor caught his attention, his gaze following from your feet all the way to your face.
His mouth was partially open, and he shut it quickly to not look like a gawking idiot.
“Hey,” Leon mirrored your smile and cleared his throat, “you look… great.”
You sat yourself next to him, holding onto the edge of the seat.
“Someone’s confident,” you teased, pressing the edge of your heel next to his shoes. He didn’t move his foot, in fact, he inched it closer.
“You could say that.”
His pale blue eyes glanced at you, the lack of restraint noticeable.
“You look great too.” You said softly, staring back at him, “How’s Jake?”
“He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s shitting himself,” he huffed, his eyes returning to the floor.
Laughing a little, the two of you were enveloped in a familiar silence. His dark tuxedo was sharp in contrast in the pale pink of your bridesmaid dress, the only thing the two of you shared within appearance was the masculine scents of his soaps.
“You ready to walk Sherry down the aisle, hm?” you asked, observing how his hands had clenched into fists.
“If you bring that up again, I will be joining Jake in shitting himself.”
“You’ll be fine. Even if you do mess up, you always fix it before someone notices,” you pat his shoulder playfully.
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned backwards into the seat, his palm outstretched. You slid your hand into his and copied his movement, the back of your head leaning against the wall. You spread your legs a little too, to match his manspread. He rolled his head over to you.
“Is Sherry okay?” he questioned, squeezing your hand.
“She is in the same position as Jake.”
“Thought so,” he said, looking back at the guests, “They’ll be okay.”
“Are you okay?” you asked, shifting yourself closer to him. He paused and then exhaled.
“Better than I was,” he admitted, eyes now sparkling back at you.
“How come?” you tilted your head, the little smile he adored so much on your lips.
“You.”
Before you could say anything, someone began shouting ‘positions!’ and the both of you stood up.
The pianist began the music, his hands trickling down the keys, the sweet melodic tune filling the hall. All the guests’ heads filed downwards as Sherry made her way to the beginning of the aisle, clutching onto flowers that matched the rest of the decorations. Each step was slow and precise, wishing she could memorise every detail of everyone’s gleaming faces. When her eyes landed on Jake, this uncontrollable beam erupted on her face, the sort of beam that made the corners of your lips curve, the sort of beam that could reassure you that everything was going to be okay after all.
Leon stood rigidly waiting for her, but as soon as her arm hooked around his, you saw the way he loosened. They exchanged small smiles with each other, a small triumphant glow on their faces. The lengths they made themselves extend to had finally rewarded them and now they could appreciate it, together.
Jake seemed like the type to not hold an honest smile on his face, in a way, it felt like a small breakthrough when you saw it yourself. The crinkling of his eyes, the small glimmer that shined through the crack, the way his twinkling lips quivered was a total breakdown on the character you built for him in your head.
Leon stepped off to the side after walking Sherry down the aisle, his eyes catching yours. Under this roof was the cherishing of many different kinds of love, the love that shaped and cemented the couple’s love for each other. You gave him a subtle look that only he could understand after working with you the entire year, it was like reaching out your hand to him in the dark. And then both of your eyes retreated to the love in front of you.
You hoped that that future promised more moments like this, where time softened to allow the present to exist—untouched. It made you wonder that if this committment could ever look like this for you. What not running looks like.
They exchanged their honest words about devotion and loyalty, giggling between them both, soothing each other’s shaking hands. A beautiful echo of claps occurred when Jake placed his lips on Sherry’s after the two firm words of ‘I do.’, their noses pressing against each other.
Your eyes instinctively fell back onto Leon, and he did the same. In a room full of people, a room with the main focus of attention, your eyes naturally found each other’s. Neither of you pulled away, as it felt like the two of you were in a room completely distant from this one for a split second. The applause, the laughter, the cheer, swirled into one and your hands kept clapping together. His expression didn’t change much, it never did, but because you learned in his absences and spaces, the things he didn’t show—you knew he was happy.
Sherry’s earlier nerves had melted into something weightless, her smile wide and unrestrained as she clutched Jake’s hand. He looked different now — or maybe you were just seeing him clearly for the first time. There was no trace of that guarded distance you had once pinned on him because it was only her now.
Petals scattered under their steps, the soft brush of them catching in the air, clinging to fabric and shoes as guests leaned out, reaching, celebrating, witnessing. It felt less like an ending and more like a beginning spilling over itself.
You felt a presence behind you, a taller, brooding one.
“C’mon, let’s watch everyone pretend they weren’t just crying,”
He gestured slightly with his head toward the aisle, letting others begin to file out before the two of you followed. It wasn’t rushed. There was no urgency in the way he moved, no tension pulling at his steps.
Just an easy sort of presence.
As you fell into step beside him, the distance between you felt less like you were following him around like that shy assistant, but more like you were walking next to him. Like it no longer needed to be measured at all.
The doors opened ahead, letting in a wash of brighter light and the distant hum of what came next — music, chatter, the promise of celebration waiting just beyond.
Speeches were delivered by the maid of honour and the best man, champagne bottles were popped and overflowing, glasses clinked together. Chatter, laughter and cheering spilled throughout the room, and you found yourself speaking to Sherry’s maid of honour, Claire. She spoke with an easy warmth, the kind that made you feel included without trying. She dipped between fond memories of Sherry and briefly mentioned Leon, with light teasing that could only be done by someone who was close.
You nodded along, smiling when needed but your attention kept wavering.
Leon stood across the room, holding a champagne glass in his hand, half-listening to someone speaking beside him. He had this amazing ability of seemingly fitting in, but his mind was in other places, and only you could notice it. His eyes scanned the room and then, inevitably, found you. It wasn’t accidental.
Claire’s voice softened, dipping closer as she followed your line of sight for just a second before looking back at you, something knowing flickering in her expression.
“You know, he’s been doing that all night,”
A heat brushed against your cheeks, “Doing what?”
“I’ll let you figure that one out,” she smiled and then someone called her name across the room. She waved at you and disappeared back into the crowd of people. You were left in her vacating space, awkward and unknowing what to do with yourself. The music softened into something sweeter, slower. Then,
“Mind if I steal you for a second?” a low voice emerged from the crowd, and you lifted your eyes from the floor. Leon. He looked incredibly shy.
A teasing smirk played on your lips, raising an eyebrow at him.
“What for?” you asked, acting clueless, despite your stomach was flooded with butterflies.
For a moment, his mouth was open and no words were coming through, but then his posture relaxed and he looked back at the couples dancing.
“Well, there’s people dancing and I thought it would be a waste to not dance to a good song,” he explained, extending his hand, “So, dance with me?”
He had this stupidly flirtatious expression painted on his face, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face, like he was partially aware of how ridiculous he seemed. You burst out laughing, and his hand fell back to his side, defeated.
“No, no! I want to dance with you, Leon,” you giggled, grabbing his hand and he sighed playfully before guiding you through the crowd and onto the floor with the other couples.
The lighting was soft and warm, lighting up what the evening light couldn’t.
The music carried the two of you, a slow sway at first, his hands careful on you, your feet making sure not to step on him.
His hand on your waist settled like he finally allowed himself to do so and squeezed his shoulder, grounding yourself there. His other hand held yours, both your hands uncomfortably warm and clammy like you two were dancing at your first high school dance. But when you finally set your eyes on his, and he saw your familiar smile, the pressure weighing on top of him vanished. Leon never believed in fate, but every decision, every loss, every mistake only threaded together to knit out this moment.
His grip softened, not out of hesitation, but trust. Like he no longer needed to hold on so tightly to keep the moment from slipping away. Like he finally understood that you were choosing to stay.
With him.
“If you step on my foot,” you whispered, leaning close enough so he can hear, “I’m telling everyone you begged me to dance.”
His eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards, flashing his pearly teeth and his hand holds you a little closer to him, enough to feel his steady warmth through the layers between you.
“Don’t worry. I clean up nice when it counts,” his voice edged with that familiar cocky lilt, the light casting a blond halo into his hair. Up close, could see every detail on his tuxedo, the threads that sewed the buttons to his shirt, every stitch, the way his chest closely rose and fell.
“Careful. You’re getting bold.”
“Only with you,” he confessed, his gaze dipping—brief, unmistakable—to your lips before finding your eyes again, an accidental linger.
“Who knew Leon Kennedy could be so smooth,” you teased, mirroring him.
“That’s what my middle name stands for,” he said, his thumb rubbing into your sensitive waist, every circle lingering on your skin.
“Since when?”
“Since this happened.”
“This?”
“Dancing. With you,” he tilted his head forward.
“Dancing with me made you smooth?” you asked, biting your lip to contain your laughter. It was frustrating with how easy he could draw it from you.
“Don’t undersell it. This is a high-pressure situation,” he whispered again, swiftly preventing the two of you from crashing into another couple.
“Oh, of course.”
“Yep. One wrong move and I lose a toe and my dignity.”
“I think your dignity is already gone.”
“Hey,” he huffed softly, his laughter brushing your skin, “I’m improving.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything else. His hand remained firm at your waist, guiding, learning, adjusting. Yours rested against his shoulder, fingers curling slightly into the fabric like you needed the anchor.
It was strange, you thought, how easy this felt.
Not the steps, those he was still clearly negotiating, but this closeness. The quiet rhythm of shared space. The way his gaze kept finding yours like it had nowhere else it wanted to be. How you longed for this for so long, and here it was. Teasing and flirting with Leon would’ve seemed like an impossible, terrifying, humiliating task so long ago and now it came without second thoughts.
“You’re staring,” you narrowed your eyes.
“Can you blame me?” he said, no teasing edge to it.
His gaze and yours naturally collided together, making the world narrow down to just his hand on your waist and the steady certainty in his eyes. His presence made everything distant, your rapid thoughts stop, and the present colorful. He made stopping easy.
“No,” you said breathily, the words slipping out softer than intended.
His smile eased into something more honest, authentic.
The music slowed, and Leon’s hand never left yours, and when it finally tapered off, he still, never left you.
“See,” he gestured to his feet proudly, a faint grin on his mouth, “No toes lost.”
“Barely,” you smirked, taking his hand and bringing him to the side. “Just need to get some air.”
He nodded, waving briefly at Sherry who was giving him a bright thumbs up before sticking his hands in his pockets.
You reached the quiet corner you settled in earlier and reached for your handbag, pulling out your phone.
3 missed calls from Mom.
Note: okay edit: the taglist is CLOSED im so sorry but i genuinely cant fit any more.
First of all, thank you to everyone who is still reading this series. I'm so, so grateful for the amount of love on this, it makes me incredibly happy. This part took so long due to me trying to figure out how I was going to end this but I've figured it out now. I will keep writing when I have the time but I have really important exams coming up soon so I can't guarantee a time frame to when the next part of this will come out. The next part will contain smut I promise this time!!!
Secondly, if I didn't get any wedding traditions right then fuck me bro I have never been to a wedding before. And yes, I keep emergency underwear in my bag. And apologies for mistakes I just want to get this posted.
Taglist (I'm not entirely sure if this works anymore):
Another stunning entry to this staple series of all Leon Kennedy fanfic enjoyers :) You've provided a fic that is so wonderfully written and speaks of the passion you hold for Leon and for the series overall, I am incredibly excited to see how it concludes and your future works from then on! Bravo!
My favourite thing ever is when you ask someone whose never had a penis what they'd do if they got one and the immediate answer is always "I'm stroking my shit crazystyle" it's so funny
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