HeyLittleThoughts

“Clearly.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to dinner. I had a fever, I went unconscious-” you tried to apologise before she could fire the bullet of accusation.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” she asked.

“That was wrong, I know, but I just needed time to recover, and I was going to call you as- as soon as I got home, I swear,” you stuttered through every word, your fingers clinging around Leon’s hoodie tightly.

“You embarrassed us.”

“I know and I swear next time this won’t—“

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” you said louder, making your mother’s eyes widen.

“You don’t show up to a dinner with important people, and instead you go running off with your boss over the weekend and don’t contact me at all!” she raised her voice, but her body remained still, “I was worried sick. But you’re busy flirting your way up the ladder I see.”

“It wasn’t like that, Mom, he was making sure I was okay after I collapsed, please, believe me,” you begged, wanting her to believe in the best version of you, but all she ever saw in you was your mistakes.

One big body of mistakes and wasted potential.

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding. “And yet, you didn’t tell me. You didn’t even answer my calls. Do you know how that looks?”

“I was sick!” you exclaimed, meeting her eyes but the pure force of her stare brought yours back to the ground.

“Excuses! Always excuses with you! Have some respect for your family before you go sleeping around with your boss!” she yelled and added, “God, your brother would’ve never done that.”

You hated how she was twisting Leon into something ugly. You hated how she had to compare you to your brother as one final twist of the knife. You hated how she only ever filtered you for your errors.

“Stop comparing me to him, I will not and will never be him!” you hissed, pointing at her with a trembling finger, “Leon was just making sure I was okay, I swear it wasn’t anything more, you know I earned that position!”

She eyed your clothes. You tensed, bracing yourself for the next criticism because that’s all you ever did when you lived with her.

“How am I supposed to believe that? I saw you kissing him.”

Your heart dropped.

“K-kissing him?”

“Don’t lie to me, I wasn’t born yesterday y/n,” she sighed, already reaching for her handbag.

“I just- he looked after me and I- it was a reflex,” you explained, the words sounding weak and pathetic even to your own ears.

“A reflex? Oh, so a reflex makes you behave like a teenager and totally disregard your parents’ feelings.”

You were bringing shame to your family’s name. Just behave like an adult for once.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for humiliating you and dad,” you apologised, folding yourself up and letting her step all over you.

“Next time, no disappearing acts. Your brother was leading teams on broken ribs and could still contact us, you have no excuse for a fever,” she said coldly, sliding the bag strap over her shoulder.

“Yes, Mom,” you mumbled, your eyes beginning to sting.

“Good. Now rest.” She said, pausing halfway through your door. “You’ve clearly had enough excitement for the weekend,” she muttered and shut the door behind her, leaving you with tears in your eyes in the darkness of your house.

You couldn’t have one nice thing without your parents ruining it all for you. As if everything you ever wanted was a stack of plates, and with each plate they smashed on the floor, was another dream of yours shattered into smithereens.

The insecurity she had planted within you soon began to seep into your mind, because maybe it was best to resign from your position. You couldn’t handle it. You were messing around with your boss. Kissing him, what were you thinking?

Your professionalism was inadequate. It was the right thing to transfer from your position.

You buried those thoughts.

You were indifferent to Monday mornings but specifically today you had a shared bitterness with the orange cat that hated Mondays.

It was pointless trying to hide the bags under your eyes and how pale you were, maybe you could gain sympathy from Head Office so they wouldn’t fire you in your meeting today.

Leon being there too was just the cherry on top of the cake. After you kissed him. Unprompted.

You slumped into your car and groaned and cursed before taking a deep breath in, straightening your back, and driving off.

The office was still the same. Still the same women dressed in long skirts and men in ties, the same hum of the vending machine and the clicking of keyboards. No one batted an eyelid at you, just the way you liked it.

“Hey—you must be the lady who keeps this place running,” a light, younger voice called out, footsteps padding behind you.

“Huh—?” you turned around to be met by a man who was about your height, maybe a little taller, dressed in a blue long-sleeved shirt and a deep red tie. His chestnut hair was neatly combed back and in the seeping morning light it had flecks of a deeper auburn.

“Oh sorry, y/n, right?” he apologised, offering you a crooked smile and extending his hand.

“Yeah… yeah that’s me,” you mumbled, observing the confident character in front of you as you shook his slightly clammy hand.

“My name is Julian. I just transferred here,” he began, seeing your posture continue to crumble, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I hope it’s only good,” you let out a nervous laugh, your shoulders bouncing up and down too dramatically.

“From what I’ve heard you’re essentially the backbone of this place,” he explained, his hand weaving through his hair. “I was told if I got lost or confused, I should come to you.”

“I mean… I can try.”

A deep voice cut through the room, calling your name. Your head snapped in the direction of the familiar sound; you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“Coming!” you yelled back, giving Julian a small smile, hoping he would notice the dynamic between you and your boss, and disappear.

“Your boss?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, slightly amused.

“Yeah. I have a meeting. It was nice meeting you Julian—“ you brought up your hand to wave, but he stepped forward.

“Well, how about coffee, me and you sometime?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Oh- I’ll, um, have to see I’m quite busy at the moment, kind of, you know. I’ll let you know,” you stammered, how could a rookie be more fluent than you?

“Busy, huh?”

“I—I need to go, my boss, you see—”  you gestured to behind you, a heat crawling on your cheeks.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” he winked, shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled away from you.

You let out a sigh of relief, heels clicking rapidly as you made your way over to Leon. He was stood outside the meeting room, back in one of his suits. It was hard to imagine him in his professional persona, considering you broke those walls only a couple of days ago. Considering you kissed him.

His eyes lingered on you for seconds too long, squinting at you, and then back at Julian who had strolled back to his desk.

“Who was that?”

“Just the newbie,” you mumbled, avoiding any topic of the kiss, “His name is Julian, I think.”

Both of you were now looking at Julian’s surprising nonchalance.

“Just the newbie,” he repeated, making you roll your eyes. He noticed your incredibly controlled breathing, softening his expression, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just- just a little nervous about this meeting,” you attempted to ignore the swirling anxiety in your stomach, your fingers picking at your hands.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Remember what I said on Saturday, I’m not letting them fire you. They’d be a bunch of damn fools to even consider it,” his hand squeezed your shoulder.

“Then why are they calling me in for a meeting?!” you whispered, meeting his concerned stare.

“Because you collapsed in their elevator,” he said, “You won’t be alone, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, your breath still shaky, but you nodded anyway.

“Good,” his hand gently held your lower back and guided you into the meeting room.

The two of you filed in after the other, ignoring the kiss that happened on Sunday, ignoring the resignation form, because he would rather never address any of it than lose you forever.

The glass table was long; three officials sat together on the end, opposite to two empty chairs. In front of them was one folder. You imagined your DSO ID photo sitting in front of them all tiny and scared.

“Morning Miss l/n. Mr Kennedy. Thank you for joining us this morning. Now, we are here to discuss the elevator incident that occurred on Friday evening,” one of them started, sliding out a piece of paper, all three of them now staring at it.

You gulped.

“You’ve been with us for almost a year now, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Your performance has been regarded as exceptional,” the other official said, their voice nasally, “However, there’s been a significant decline as of recent weeks.”

“I—” you stuttered, but took a deep breath in and then continued, “I understand that.”

You suddenly felt the hardness of Leon’s leather shoe against your ballet pump.

“We aren’t here to undermine your past work but the incident on Friday has raised concerns.”

“Concerns?” Leon questioned, leaning forward, “It should be a medical concern. Not a disciplinary concern.”

“Mr Kennedy, we appreciate your… perspective, but when your assistant, our employee, collapses in a government building it becomes a matter of reliability. We need all our employees stable.”

“I didn’t mean… for it to happen. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure recently,” you spoke up, trying your hardest to not let the shy girl you were, or still are, to come out of your mouth. You were certainly not going to lose this battle, not after the one with your mother.

“Yes, pressure that both we and Mr Kennedy were not aware of.”

Papers shuffled.

“That’s because she handles her work,” he said, his tone controlled but firm. “She doesn’t make a habit of complaining.”

“Honesty is key when it comes to maintaining a secure workplace, Mr Kennedy and if your assistant fails to do that, then your office will fall apart.”

“It’s not falling apart. Neither is she,” he said coolly, nothing slipping in his calm exterior.

“Well, then, Miss l/n. Do you think you are fit to continue working for Mr Kennedy?”

“Yes—yes I do.”

“To ensure our personnel is fit for duty we suggest that you undergo a medical and psychological evaluation.” Papers shuffled again. “And we are going to implement two weeks mandatory leave. We cannot rely on reassurances. We must rely on certainty, and we all believe this will be best for us and you.”

Something ugly boiled within you. You had devoted your entire life to this line of work, to this job and now they label you as unstable and needing a psychological evaluation. All because of some stupid collapse in the elevator.

You couldn’t trust yourself to be alone over the weekend. Let alone two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours.

“Two weeks? But I’m better, I can—,”

“This isn’t up for discussion, this is mandatory.”

“But—"

“You collapsed,” Leon stated, his words swiftly saving you from getting into an argument.

And that was that.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then, I suppose,” you said, outside of the meeting room. Your hand clutched tighter around your bag strap, glancing at his shoes.

Two weeks sounded easier when you said it. You saw the days stretching out ahead of you, unstructured by no routine and no purpose. It was petrifying.

 “Yeah… I’ll,” he cleared his throat like the words sat wrongly, “see you in two weeks.”

You nodded and turned your body, but something in his expression looked like he was going to say more, with the way his mouth stuttered open. There was something within him that was reluctant, but clearly determined the environment wasn’t correct for the topic and so he relaxed and decided on something else.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. An exhale followed.

“You too,” you smiled faintly at him and walked down the hallway.

He could see it all falling apart, everything the two of you had built in the spring, the shared evenings, the shared lunches, the shared lifts home. All of it had to unravel due to the hardships of life. Peace didn’t last long in his experience, he had become used to it by now, but there was something in his chest that twisted when he saw you walk away.

It’s only for two weeks. Get yourself together Kennedy.

His gaze lingered on you until you were out of sight, until Sherry had to grab his attention to break him out of his thoughts.

The office was grey. Autumn had begun to turn leaves into a flurry of oranges and browns and yellows, covering the pavements in a wet blanket. The flowers on your desk had wilted; the coat hanger now held Leon’s scarf.

The absence of your rapid typing and tapping of your foot was far too loud for Kennedy. His office felt so wrong only containing him. He enjoyed the way people entered his office to find you, their expressions warm and amiable, but when they walked over to him, they became hardened and cold. Now everyone entered with a seriousness on their face, and it bored him.

He wanted to see the smile on your face when he would tell you he bought cake from your favourite bakery, he wanted to see the relief in your posture when he would speak up for you in presentations, he wanted to see you.

He even noticed your sweet scent disappearing from his office. It soon was overpowered by the smell of leather and gun oil. You were falling through his fingers like sand, and there was nothing he could do but wait.

You weren’t having any better of a time either.

The laptop kept opening and closing. You organised your entire bookshelf, deep-cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed your entire floor and cleared out your cupboards. You wiped the picture frame of you, younger, in a pastel-pink frilly dress, held by your brother in his military uniform. You folded up Leon’s hoodie and placed it on your kitchen table.

It was still day one.

Rain gently pattered against your windows, streaking down and joining together before dripping off.

What did people usually do on their days off? The idea of sitting around and doing nothing scared you more than anything, because the mountain of your thoughts seemed too large to conquer, to come to peace with.

You certainly didn’t tell your parents about your mandatory leave.

Something in you missed the peace of walking out the DSO building with Leon, knowing the two of you would be together again the next day.

On one of your days off, people around your village were hanging up colourful bunting, setting up ladders. Women walked past you carrying shelves and boxes of books. An older man, greys now overwhelming his hair, was fiddling around with tying up the bunting on a ladder.

“What are you guys doing?” you asked curiously, your heart rushing already.

“Preparing for the book fair this weekend,” he replied, walking down the ladder to be on your level. His eyes crinkled as he smiled, gesturing to the large abundance of people manoeuvring books, signs and stalls, “Very busy time for our village! Families love our events.”

“Can I help?”

“’Course you can, Miss. C’mere and wrap this around for me, I’m sure your fingers will be much better than these sausages!” he laughed, wiggling his fingers before handing you the ribbon to the bunting and holding the ladder securely in place for you to climb up it.

Both of Leon’s hands were on his steering wheel, two fingers drumming along to the rock music he had blasting through his speakers. Buildings sporadically disappeared, and soon he was into the green fields that surrounded the city, coincidentally, the route to your village.

It wouldn’t hurt to check on you, it could just be a totally friendly thing, he thought as he indicated into your village.

As he drove further down the road, more and more families and kids appeared, the increase in decorations intensified. A sign read ‘Book Fair’ painted neatly in big blue letters.

He scoffed quietly to himself, thumb tapping once against the wheel.

His speed dropped as the road narrowed, tyres crunching lightly over gravel. Stalls lined the sides now, half-finished and bustling with life. Children darted between adults, laughter carrying easily through the open air.

You were right. Things seemed…  quieter out here. Small cottages and houses circled around the square. Patches of tender flowers reflected the sun, somehow holding a vividness in autumn. It was the type of village that belonged in a fairy tale.

Leon’s gaze ran over the crowd absentmindedly until his eyes landed on you.

Your demeanour was significantly different; he had to do a double take. Your hair wasn’t held in the same professional way you always styled it, it had caught the sun, softer than he has ever seen it before . It wasn’t the you he saw in the office, and it wasn’t the you he saw in his home.

A real smile was painted on your face, not the kind that was tight and forced when greeting co-workers or the nervous one when you were overwhelmed. It was perfectly you.

His fingers loosened around the steering wheel.

You were sat on a chair, holding open a book with colorful illustrations, a group of children sitting cross-legged in front of you on a rug. They weren’t fiddling or chasing each other around, they were totally entranced by your reading. As you turned the page and kept reading, some kids burst out giggling at your attempt at a dragon’s voice, and one small girl’s hands clung around your leg, your hand softly patting her head.

“Who’s that man over there?” one of the kids asked, your smiling expression shifted into something tight as you noticed the man dressed in black, leaning against his car.

Leon.

He looked out-of-place, alone at a family event. There was something in his face, the way he held himself, that something was weighing on him.

“Yeah, he keeps looking at us!”

“He’s looking at y/n! Do you think he has a crush on her?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“O-oh, uhm, no, sweetie, but maybe we could invite him over here?” you suggested, feeling a warmth touching your cheeks, and it definitely wasn’t the sun. He shifted, noticing that he had been caught, pressing his lips together. He walked over, standing awkwardly a few feet away.

“Do you want to come and read with us mister?”

“If that’s okay with you,” he replied, flickering back to you and the cluster of children at your feet.

“Of course it is,” you smiled, watching him place himself on the grass. You tried not to laugh at the sight of your boss sat at your feet with a bunch of children, but you didn’t want to embarrass him even more.

There were no strings holding you into the tight, nervous assistant that he sees on the daily, you were happy. Smiling. Radiant, almost. He wanted to convince himself it was just because you weren’t in your usual office wear, but it wasn’t. You were happier outside of work, happier without him around.

He had been thinking about you all week, and yet here you were, not a single worry holding you down. He thought that maybe what you said in your argument was true, that he was dragging you into his nightmare of a life because you had been the closest thing to warmth and closeness he had seen for so long.

You snapped the book shut.

“The end!”

“Another one! Another one!” the children chanted, clapping their hands with delight.

“I’m sorry but I think you parents will be wanting you back now!” you stood up, hearing the children groan and push themselves upwards.

You waved goodbye to them, feeling Leon’s presence at your side as the last of the children scattered to their parents. You wanted their effortless laughter to carry on within you, but something heavier settled in your chest.

“Thanks for staying,” you said, looking up at the towering man in front of you, his broad shoulders cutting out the beaming sunshine.

“Of course,” he put his hands in his pockets, “I didn’t know you did that.”

“Just something to keep me from going insane in my house,” you said, laughing nervously.

“You’ve got a way with them.”

Some kids ran past the two of you, shrieking and giggling, balloon animals in their sticky hands.

“Oh, it’s just reading to some kids, it’s nothing really.”

People behind stalls kept calling out the different food they were selling.

“They listen to you,” he assured.

That warm feeling in your cheeks happened again.

A silence occurred, but not a loud one, it was soothed by the laughter of children and parents. The cold wet smell of autumn was overrun by the sweet smell of candyfloss and popcorn.

The kiss and the resignation letter were still wavering in the air.

“About Sunday—” you started, feeling yourself drown already.

“Don’t,” he said, “This isn’t the place.”

“I mean, my house isn’t far away, we can always speak there,” you stammered, sharp pains beginning to grow in your chest as you tripped over the words.

“Don’t.”

“I just, I thought that you—"

“I know what you thought,” he said, not a recognisable emotion in his voice. Nothing you could cling on to or help you stay afloat.

“Leon— I don’t understand.”

“I think we both know that I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“And what is that?”

“Keeping this simple,” he stated.

“Simple,” you repeated, nodding your head slightly, more to yourself than him.

“Well,” you said, turning your back to him, “thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you around.”

Wallow. You wallowed. For the rest of the day. You despised letting a man have such control over your feelings, but you figured it was better to let it out than keep it inside. Face swollen and pink from crying, you felt like one huge idiot.

You collapsed in the elevator after working yourself into the ground, you’ve been assigned a mandatory psychological evaluation and now the man who you’d found yourself in love with for the past 6 months doesn’t want anything more to do with you.

Your mother’s disapproving face had been burned into your mind and now it was overlapping with Leon’s. Cold and distant.

You turned off the television and scrubbed at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, pacing around in the kitchen. You felt like one of those hamsters in tiny enclosures. Silence was too loud and the walls were too close.

The only person you could rely on was yourself, and you had been reminded of that over and over again, yet you couldn’t get it to stick in your mind. You couldn’t even say you were unacquainted to that hurtful internal wound in your chest, the one that throbbed when you were rejected by the people around you, because you were very familiar with it.

People were flawed, yes, it was hard to find someone perfect, but being hurt this way was something you never wanted to experience again.

The impulsive thought of running away seemed pleasant, you imagined yourself sitting on a beach in one of those picturesque postcards. Just to escape it all.

The ticking of the clock was mocking you.

Simple.

Right, because that’s what it was. Simple.

Nothing about the way he looked at you like you were worth something to protect, like you brightened his days—was simple.

His hoodie was still folded neatly on the table, his scent faintly embroidered on it.

You should have never kissed him. You crossed the line and now he was fixing it. Because that’s what he always did. Fix things.

A knock sounded at the door. You paused, to make sure you weren’t mishearing things.

Another knock, firmer this time. You slowly approached the door, and as you opened it, a sliver of navy was seen. The familiar chest pains twisted again.

“Hey,” Leon said, his tone quieter than usual.

“Leon?” your eyes traced around his open collar and wonky tie, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was… nearby,” he cleared his throat, holding himself upwards by leaning on your door frame.

“…Leon.”

“Yeah. Alright. I wasn’t.”

There was the faint scent of alcohol woven on him, you were close enough to put a finger on it. His composure was slipping, and in his pale eyes there was the shine of something vulnerable.

“Are you drunk?”

“I just had a few,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair.

“Why are you here?” you watched him cringe and then relax his face, like he was trying to process how he even got on your doorstep, as if his body moved before he could think.

“I—I just… I didn’t like how I left things,” he explained, his blue eyes lingering on your face. He was engulfed by the dark shade of the night, and your home was golden, like the light at the end of the dark tunnel.

“You told me to not talk about it,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I know. I was being an idiot; it was a mistake.”

“This isn’t fair Leon—I couldn’t even explain myself,” you muttered, exhausted from feeling everything.

“Because if we started talking, then it wouldn’t stay simple.”

“I didn’t ask for simple.” You stated coldly, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I know,” he repeated, quieter this time, his eyes flickering to the floor and then back to your warmly lit face.

The space between you was fragile, like one wrong word could splinter it and it’ll tear apart.

“You can’t drive home,” you sighed, “just… come inside.”

You stepped aside, gesturing him to come in.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his eyes lazily darting around your home, “Nice place…”

Everything was organised and structured to a meticulous degree. But there was a homeliness to it, the blankets on your couch were clearly handmade, on your fridge were fridge magnets from different places and there were books stacked everywhere, bookmarks poking out the edges.

“Thanks,” you replied, unsure what to do with your boss in your home, “Do you want me to get you some water and food?”

“That would probably be a good idea,” he followed you into the kitchen, observing your paintings that you hung up.

You started to open cupboards that you didn’t need to open, grabbing ingredients that never made any sense, because God, anything to stop your hands from shaking.

“I meant what I said at the fair,” he cut the silence.

“What?” you turned your head to him.

“About you… being good at it. You look different. Better,” he nodded towards you.

“Better without work?” you huffed, “Everyone thinks I can’t handle it.”

“Not everyone.”

“Leon this isn’t fair—you tell me to not talk about Sunday and now you come to my house like nothing happened like—“ you snapped, your eyebrows furrowing.

He walked towards you, driven purely by his desire.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he murmured, a profound sadness in his eyes.

You looked back at him, your expression undeniably less sharp.

The space between you was barely there anymore—close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of alcohol and something distinctly him, the scent that made you ease in the office.

Your voice came out softer than before, your lips slightly parted.

“Leon…”

A warning, a question, an invitation.

He exhaled slowly, eyes dropping for just a second, to your soft lips, before forcing themselves back up.

You could see his control slipping, his careful exterior being stripped. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

“Tell me to leave.”

Note: Okay, it's finally here. This is the LONGEST chapter yet omg and I finally found out how to use em dashes. This chapter was going to be much longer but I decided to cut it up and make another chapter. Sorry for the wait and false promises, I am definitely not promising anything ever again LOL. I really struggled to know what to do next but I hope this is satisfactory. I hope everyone is okay, the UK is currently being blessed by the sun and it's sooo nice. Couldn't think of a song for this chapter but I did write it while listening to I Love You by Fontaines D.C. so maybe there's that. Wrote this instead of studying...

There will be 3 more chapters I believe, the part 7 will be preparing for Sherry's wedding, part 8 will be Sherry's wedding and part 9 will be... ykw. Chapters will come out slower because I don't wanna burn myself out and I gotta study booooo...

If you guys have any questions or anything let me knoww1!!!! I love talking to you guys.

The fucking insane taglist omg:

@babygirl-panda19 @musegonemad @cherry-4200 @mmeerraa @cautioniwillbite @whoskeiraaa @aliidarling @frazzled-soul @onebatch--twobatch @jeewhat @connoresque @girlwithadragonheart @qngelical @djoslola @wastedpanda @mara-brekker @rednnedy @applerpi @404creep @mommafirefly666 @brooke1228 @justvalkyrie @animegamerfox @theuncommoncorner @callme-amaya @itsjustbell @brightestflame @sharkalina666 @iheartdaenerys @keopio @zea-is-queen @youkoden @youmake1mistake @caroline-the-cat @deo-data @toorulee @linsweetgirl @stinkystick @parasuchus @doribtw @chocoismasochist @toastloverr

@princeintheshadow @saewya001 @oceanwoozi @kiraraperv @stickyhoney @icelatte-tea @non-binarybee @ambitions-like-ribbons @amphiroxx @whoisgami @lkittys @heavensknows @non-binarybee @imonmy8thhusbandanditsthesameman @sunsethw4 @sirenpearldust @meg-cosplay @jaescafe @dez93006 @anfervaldez @n1nia @riasjams @helplesssrain @ordelixx @radioactive-ocha @kissesforjeannie @cjafjatkstke @limitless-matilda @my-drvidess @jujube311 @sinnamon-bunn @sanniesfavoriteprincess @shrimpchipcookie @thiskingdomwillendure @itsyogirlx @astraioses @glocuseguardian3rd @drag0nl0v3rlol @a-small-batch-of-dragons @sandiaholland @tasias-world @fa0nz6ain @anonomouswriter-blr

“Are you still sure that you don’t want me to take you home?” he asked, looking at your slumped posture, his hair messily out of place. You despised how stressed you were making him.

“Don’t take me home-” your phone rang. Your head hurt too badly to even want to look at the bright screen, but the words ‘Mom’ pierced through your eyes, and you saw the 7 missed calls and the other 10 threatening messages that she sent you.

It was enough to snap you out of your delirium.

Eyes widening, your phone slipped from your hands, and you shook Leon’s arm.

“I forgot about- fuck I forgot about dinner. Leon, you have to take me to my parents’ house,” you pleaded, hoping that you could just miraculously bottle the fever up.

“Are you insane?”

“Leon,” you stared at him with all the determination in the world despite your eyelids slowly sliding downwards and your head swaying a little, “Leon.”

“Yes?”

Your eyes eventually closed and your head fell back onto the headrest.

He tutted, turning the engine on, “You are certainly not going to dinner.”

And that’s how you ended up in your boss’s guest room bed.

You woke up in a sweat, nausea now clambering in your stomach and uncontrollable shivers shooting through your body. A little lost to where you were, your eyes scanned around the room, because the ceiling definitely wasn’t yours.

It smelt familiar, like coffee and leather. A scent that belonged in the office. In Leon’s office.

“Leon?” you mumbled out, pushing yourself upwards with your elbows. You were still in your office clothes from yesterday, but your heels had been slipped off, and a cold cloth was pressed on your forehead. At the end of the bed was clean, fresh clothes.

Slumped in a chair next to your bed was Leon. His face was softer when he slept, holding a youthful look to it as the usual tense knot in his face had loosened. You always wondered what his resting face looked like after seeing the pure adrenaline, predator scowl he had etched into his face.

The room held plain, cream-coloured walls with long windows from the ceiling to the floor that looked over a forest. The curtains cast ripples on the carpet as a window was left open to keep fresh air channelling through the room.

However, as soon as his name slipped from your mouth, he stirred immediately. His eyes shot open and his posture snapped into shape. He was still wearing the same navy suit from yesterday, just a few buttons undone at the top and his hair was dishevelled like he had run his hand through it a hundred times.

“Hey,” he said softly, “take it easy.”

He carefully removed the cloth from your forehead and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Better than yesterday.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or you.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you croaked, pushing his hand away and slipping your feet out of the duvet to stand up.

“What are you doing?” he questioned sternly, the crease in his eyebrow deepening.

“Am I not allowed to get up…?” you stared at him, your eyes cringing at the bright light that slipped through the curtains and shone blindingly around Leon’s figure. From your point of view, he looked like an angel.

Sweat still clung to your face, a heat itching at your cheeks.

“You need rest,” his deep voice smoothed the throbbing bumps of your mind.

“I’ve rested.”

“You passed out. There’s a difference. You’re still hot and sick,” he said as he patted the damp cloth on your face, gently moving aside the hair that was stuck to your face.

You flopped back onto the bed, “you suck as a doctor.”

He let out a hum as he pushed a glass of water into your hands, and then two pills in the other.

“Drink,” he demanded, his eyes flicking to his watch and then back at you.

“Still bossy.”

“Funny that, because I’m your boss,” he said it with a small laugh, but then his expression flickered into something with regret.

The words floated awkwardly in the room like they didn’t belong there.

Because they were true, but also weirdly false at the same time.

He is your boss, but the typical boundaries of an employee and their boss had been totally blurred by the two of you.

Bosses didn’t sleep in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair all night and keep their employee in their guest room to look after them.

“What’s the time?” you asked, wiping the water on your lips with your sleeve.

“Four pm.”

“Four?! The presentation- oh my god my parents-,” you shot up out of the bed, feeling your chest twist in that unpleasant way all over again, pain coming in waves of sharp volts.

“Hey-“ he grabbed you before you toppled over.

“No- I forgot about dinner with my parents; I needed to be there- where is my phone?! And head office! I don’t have the presentation I won’t be able to present it-,” your head frantically turned left and right, your wrists still being held by Leon’s hand.

“You were unconscious,” he said monotonously.

“Where’s my phone?”

“You passed out mid-sentence in my car,” he continued in the same, slightly frustrated tone.

“I need to call them.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he declared.

“Leon,” you head snapped to him, tilting your head a little to give him puppy-eyes.

He sighed, letting go of your wrists, “your phone is right here. On the bedside.”

You picked it up and stared at the phone screen. 10 missed calls. 13 messages. Your eye twitched, a dread taking root in your body.

“I’m done for. She’s going to skin me alive and serve me as a meal for her next dinner!”

“I think that’s slightly excessive.”

“You clearly haven’t met my mother.”

Your phone began to buzz. Your fingers were shaking. For the first time, you felt like you couldn’t deal with anything, which was strange, because you always dealt with everything no matter the condition you were in. Stopping was never allowed.

“I- I can’t do it.”

“Then you don’t. Focus on resting,” he said, holding up the duvet so you could slide back under it. He said it so effortlessly, like resting was just second nature to him. You hesitantly laid your back onto the mattress, letting him fuss over you. “Sherry stopped by and dropped some clean clothes off for you,”

You hummed something unintelligible deliriously as exhaustion crashed over you, the softness of the pillows catalysing this.

He sat in his chair and paused on your face before standing up.

“I’m gonna get some coffee.”

“Leon,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, and his head snapped back to you, your pleading eyes staring back into his icy ones, “don’t leave.”

He stilled, but placed himself back on the seat, watching your face instantly relax as you succumbed to exhaustion, as if it was his presence that let you fall asleep.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his mouth. But his thumb was absently rubbing gentle circles into your palm.

He tried to imagine the DSO without you, and suddenly all the color was drained from it. Your withdrawal from him, the resignation letter, the collapse in the elevator – it all scared him in ways he didn’t think was possible. This wasn’t him. He was used to dealing with fear on the field but losing you would be a type of fear that wouldn’t let him get out of bed without a struggle.

You looked smaller when you slept. Less guarded, like you were no longer waiting for someone’s criticism. The usual determination that sat in your expression was softened by exhaustion.

You trusted him enough to fall asleep like this. In his house, holding his hand.

He couldn’t mess this up.

When you woke up, the soft glistening glow of the moon swept through the curtains. Leon was sat at the bed, his reading glasses reflecting the glow of the laptop that was on his lap. His suit jacket was draping over the chair; he was only in his button up shirt. His collar hung lazily around his neck and his sleeves were rolled up. Veins on his forearms were dimly lit by the lamp on the desk, and they tensed every few seconds when his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

Your fingers were loosely clinging around his hand, while his other hand was scrolling through emails. He clearly hadn’t moved it since you fell asleep.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly as you pushed yourself up, your hand letting go of his, embarrassed.

“Hi,” he said back, just as awkwardly. “Not to suck but I got an email from Head Office.”

“W-What did it say?” you stuttered, every possible scenario rushing through your head, studying his face for any hint of disappointment.

“That you and I need to come in on Monday to discuss your position at the DSO,” he replied, predicting what you were going to say next, “you’re not getting fired.”

“How do you know?” you said instantly, ready to shoot him with another million questions.

“Because you’re my assistant. I’m not letting it happen,” he shook his head, then shut his laptop and stood up, quickly shutting down any possible idea of you not being in his office. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”

A subtle blush crept onto your cheeks. Was he crazy? Or were you crazy? You had to both be crazy.

You nodded, feeling like the shy assistant that walked into his office for the first time.

He petted your head, then he quickly retracted his hand, regretting what he just did, and disappeared into the ensuite, the sound of water splashing into the tub echoing around the room.

A small exhale left your nose as the corners of your mouth curved upwards, finding his awkwardness slightly endearing.

You began to explore his apartment as he fussed around your bath.

It seemed that his leather jacket collection extended into his home, because they were all neatly hanging up in a dark oak closet by the entrance. There was a brown battered one with a cream-colored fur snugly attached to the collar, a black one with two grey stripes circling the sleeves and another black one with an exaggerated collar that had an even fluffier fur.

It was strange that none of his usual weapons were visible, even though he typically showed them off to you before missions with a toothy grin. But this thought was quickly shut down after you opened a door to a room that had guns displayed on walls from ceiling to floor like paintings. Axes and knives and many other weapons that you couldn’t even name were all hanging there, polished and sparkling. There was gym equipment set up- too many weights on that pole, you thought. You decided it was best to keep that door closed.

He had a very clean alcohol cabinet with fancy bottles, some in languages you couldn’t even begin to read. Most of them were almost empty.

You came across picture frames, photos of him with Sherry and a woman in a red leather jacket. Another photo of him with a different blond woman, he was different here. Blonder, not a hint of a wrinkle or a grey hair. None of the frames matched with the rest of the decorum in his house- these must’ve been gifts.

The silver clock ticked away in the background.

A record player was neatly tucked in the corner, with shelves stacked full of vinyls. Your fingers flicked through all the different albums, ranging from 70s to 90s. There was The Police, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Violent Femmes, Rage Against The Machine, Screaming Trees and many, many more. You snickered when you found Duran Duran. Rolled your eyes when you found Radiohead.

There was a lace of coldness that draped over the apartment. The pillows weren’t worn, the kitchen looked far too clean, there was no dents in the furniture or stains – nothing that signalled the presence of someone. Everything was in perfect (expensive) condition, apart from the dead plants in the corner.

He was haunting his own apartment.

“Baths ready.” He was dressed out of his office wear, and in grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. Your eyes widened like you had seen him naked. You had never seen anyone wear casual things. When you lived with your parents, they expected nothing less of you. It was either on your best form or don’t be here at all.

“Uh- thanks- thank you,” you stammered, walking past him rapidly so you didn’t have with bear with your awkwardness any longer.

You clicked the door behind you and leant your back against it, pressing a hand to your face.

Your face was warm and you couldn’t tell if it was the fever or something else.

Steam swirled from the bath; he had almost filled it to the brim.

You peeled your office clothes from your body and lowered yourself into the bath and a quiet sigh escaped from your throat.

There was an assortment of soaps that had been placed on the side. Again, they were all in different languages, seemingly different soaps from all the hotels he stayed at on his international missions. It felt weird to look at these, it was all a life he had before he met you, you felt like a stranger despite spending so much time with him.

A heat crawled up your neck as you thought about the way he never let go of your hand and imagining him carrying you into your apartment. You sank lower into the bath. He had seen you at your most disgusting, raw and worst yet he was running you a bath and making you dinner in the kitchen.

You tried your hardest to remember what happened in the elevator.

The rough sensation of his stubble, his hands holding you and his panicked face quickly flooded back, and it was enough to send you into a flustered coma.

You were sat at his kitchen island, on those long stools, with your hair twisted in a towel and wearing the pyjamas that Sherry left, a very nice baby-blue matching set.

“Food.” He placed a plate of pasta in front of you.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to… do all of this for me,” you thanked him, grabbing your fork and refusing eye contact with him.

“Well, I didn’t really have a choice when you passed out in my car. I couldn’t leave you alone like that. You need to stop running yourself into the ground, it doesn’t help anyone.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, staring at the pasta in front of you.

“Hey, don’t apologise,” he said softer, his voice deepening, “Your only job right now is to get better.”

Both of you went quiet; the ticking of the clock and your fork clunking against the plate were heard. He then poured himself a drink, whiskey. There was something restrained in the way he poured it though, like this was less than he usually drank.

“So, did I ruin any of your weekend plans?” you broke the silence, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Didn’t have any, luckily for you,” he said, a small laugh laced in his words, leaning against the counter.

“Leon S. Kennedy doesn’t have any weekend plans?”

“You sound surprised,” he crossed his arms.

“Yeah, you know, I’d be thinking you would be saving the world by breakfast or something.”

He huffed, “how did you know?”

“Just had a hunch,” you winked, very badly, at him. Cringing at yourself, your gaze fell down back to your plate.

You felt his burning gaze pierce right through you.

“You’re staring,” you called him out, pushing your pasta around like it personally offended you.

“Just making sure you’re eating,” he muttered, putting his arms up in surrender.

“I am eating.”

“You’re prodding at it as if I fed you worms,” he sighed, pushing your drink towards you. “Drink too.”

The two of you ended up on his couch; Leon demanded you have a blanket spread over your legs.

You sat on one end. He sat on the other.

You were watching this stupid movie; you had hardly even kept up with plot because you kept drifting off to sleep and you didn’t know why but you felt like every time you opened your eyes, Leon had shifted himself closer to you.

You noticed his sleepy state, his half-open eyes reflecting the blare of the television. His hair looked so soft you just wanted to run your fingers along it over and over again until they were numb from the feeling. His fingers held loosely around his glass containing a little amount of that golden liquid.

It wasn’t fair that you collapsed in the elevator. You wanted to take care of him too. Just because he was better at keeping himself together didn’t mean he wasn’t as equally exhausted as you were.

He had been lapping up his whiskey all summer like a dehydrated plant, and it was often he stayed longer hours than you did. Once you caught sight of a long scar across his abdomen when he was getting patched up after a mission that involved many losses. It was hard to fathom how he coped with it all, but the answer was clearly staring right back at you from his glass.

Now you were worried that you added even more stress onto his conscience. He already had to deal with so much and now collapsing on him in the elevator felt selfish and stupid.

“Leon,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he whispered back, his eyes still glued to the screen, but he tilted his body towards you subtly.

“Did I scare you?”

His fingers stopped rubbing his glass.

“A little,” he admitted, not telling you that he would’ve literally torn the whole DSO building down to make sure you were okay.

Your stomach twisted with guilt.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to stay with me all day.”

“Yes I did,” he said firmly, his face finally turning towards you with a small smile. The same reassuring look he gave you when you told him you were nervous on your first day as his assistant.

Silence settled between you again.

Your eyelids felt heavier with every passing second and so did your head as it tipped to the side and then rested against something solid and warm. You stilled. He froze.

Your head was resting against his shoulder.

Heat shot through your face, and you pulled your head away immediately, “Sorry-”

“It’s fine.” He said quickly, extremely quick in fact. You paused. Everything in you craved to rest your head back on him, to feel safe next to him and to know that this actually means something to him.

You always held yourself back from getting the things you wanted because your mind restricted everything you did. You were a coward. The fear of being rejected had pulled you around on strings for so long, you felt childish.

So, you slowly leaned back again with more care. He didn’t move or shift away. His body relaxed slightly under the weight. Neither of you said anything. He only pulled over the blanket for it to cover his legs too.

Eventually, your breathing slowed as your body subconsciously shifted itself closer to him. He glanced down, muttered “Unbelievable.” and turned down the volume of the television before stretching his arm around you.

Sunday morning came quickly, and you were pleasantly woken by the sound of something sizzling. There was a dip in the sofa where Leon was resting, and now you could hear his humming from the kitchen. It felt odd to not immediately open your laptop or start reading through files, but just this once you allowed and embraced the absence of it.

“Morning,” you croaked, rubbing your eyes and placing yourself on one of the stools.

“Morning. Feeling better?” he asked, pushing a glass of water to you and then returning to the eggs that were frying and bubbling in the pan. It annoyed you how the morning seemingly didn’t affect Leon in the same way it affected you.

“Yeah… I do,” you realised that the pounding, stuffy feeling in your mind had disappeared, but wrecked your body in the meantime, because everything ached. He leaned over the island and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.

“I swear if you do that one more time-” you swatted his hand away.

“You look better.”

“Wow. Thank you, Doctor Kennedy,” you rolled your eyes, “Seems like you’re chef Kennedy too. What’s for breakfast?”

He wanted to say that you had a lot of sass for someone who could hardly form a sentence when they first interacted with him. But he decided to keep his mouth shut. Minus the teasing, he felt strangely proud, and happy even that he made you comfortable enough to laugh and tease him in his own home.

“Eggs on toast,” he then felt the presence of your stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile was stretching across your face, your eyes reflecting the morning light. His cheeks felt warm.

“It’s funny.”

“How?” he questioned, genuinely confused, shaking his head as if he could shake the blush off his cheeks.

“Well, when I first joined the DSO everyone said you were scary. And now you’re cooking breakfast for me,” you explained, gesturing at him as he held a spatula.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, turning back to the eggs with a smirk tugging on his lips.

“You were even humming!”

“Drop it,” he grumbled, buttering your toast.

“Kennedy is cooking and humming for me!”

“Quit it or I’m revoking breakfast privileges,” he threatened as he placed the eggs on top of your toast and sliding the plate over to you. “There’s salt and pepper on the side if you want it.”

You grinned and took a bite.

It was a quiet ride home, you were still in your pyjamas embarrassingly, but Leon lent you his hoodie to ‘help’. The radio blurred into the background as long, towering trees passed you by.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be fun,” you sighed, your hands fiddling on your lap, his sleeves so big only your fingers points through them. Dread felt heavy on your chest already.

He hummed in agreement, “it’ll be fine though.”

Leon always had a great habit of reassuring people even when he wasn’t even sure of the outcome himself.

“What about the possibility of me being fired?”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“You’re not getting fired, how many times do I need to say this?”

“But how do you even know that?” you turned to him, your eyes desperately searching for reassurance in his.

“You’re my assistant.”

You huffed, sinking further into your seat.

“Like that’s a good argument.”

“It is to me,” he said, seemingly calm. He smiled a little, proud of his answer.

He stopped outside your house, your sprinklers showering the colorful tulips that sat sweetly in pots.

“Thank you, Leon. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you thanked him, and then paused, your hand hovering over the handle.

You had far too many impulsive thoughts that weekend.

He was looking at you patiently, like if you wanted to stay in his car and do absolutely nothing, he would let you.

You had paused too long to not say something now. But what do you even say? Thank you again?

His head tilted, “You okay?”

“Yeah- I, uhm.”

Maybe you should wave. but people don’t wave inside of cars.

He took care of you all weekend, cooking, running you a bath, just making sure you were okay. And you were just going to thank him and leave?

But you didn’t owe him anything. Not like that. Don’t be a disgusting perv.

Your brain settled on leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before your consistent anxiety could stop it.

And by the time his brain had caught up, you were already scrambling and running into your house before either of you could confront the feelings that had intensified over the weekend.

Note: That was probably the longest chapter so far, and I deleted a whole scene so it took me way longer than expected. This was definitely a struggle to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it... I'm kind of worried about my writing becoming sloppier and repetitive so the next chapter might take longer to ensure only the highest quality!!, we will see. Thank you so much for reading this series has totally changed my blog, I'm having so much fun interacting with you all!! Also I did make myself laugh when I made a salt and pepper reference.

much forgotten taglist:

@babygirl-panda19 @musegonemad @cherry-4200 @mmeerraa @cautioniwillbite @whoskeiraaa @aliidarling @frazzled-soul @onebatch--twobatch @jeewhat @connoresque @girlwithadragonheart @qngelical @djoslola @wastedpanda @mara-brekker @rednnedy @applerpi @404creep @mommafirefly666 @brooke1228 @justvalkyrie @animegamerfox @theuncommoncorner @callme-amaya @itsjustbell @brightestflame @sharkalina666 @iheartdaenerys @keopio @zea-is-queen @youkoden @youmake1mistake @caroline-the-cat @deo-data @toorulee @linsweetgirl @stinkystick @parasuchus @doribtw @chocoismasochist @toastloverr

"you sure you want to do this?" he murmured softly, almost a purr.

you nodded shyly, wanting to burying your face in your palms. his gaze was so intense you couldn't fathom how someone like him, so experienced and so attractive, could want you.

"gone so quiet, hm? don't be shy, hun," he pulled you into a kiss, brushing your bottom lip, then your chin. his hair tickled your chin as he started kissing your neck. your slender fingers found their way around his back instinctively, pressing your body against his.

you felt safe, his strong arms holding your waist, his cologne rubbing off on your skin. you were basking in him.

"taste so sweet," he mumbled, nibbling on the bare skin between your neck and shoulder. the vibrations from his deep voice sent hot waves down your body, a small whimper leaving your lips. you could feel him pause for a split second, and then returning to your neck.

becoming aware of the tension beneath you, you felt something stiffen, rubbing gently against your crotch. the movement was subtle and restrained, the kind of movement that someone allowed only when they weren't sure if they were allowed it at all.

everything was overwhelming, one minute his hands were softly tracing over your waist, the next minute they were nudging you closer to him, all while his mouth was licking your neck.

he noticed your stillness, leaning back to look at you.

"everything okay?" he asked, his head tilting.

you hesitated. "...can i lead?"

a faint smirk grew on his lips, but it was rather soft than teasing, in fact, he seemed rather relieved. "go ahead."

you began sloppily kissing him, hungry for him, spit briefly connecting your lips to his. his prickly stubble grazed your chin. his hands rested firmly on your hips as he leant back on your couch, enjoying the attention you were giving him.

you pulled off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and pajama bottoms. a choking sound left his lips before he cleared his throat - as if he revealed more than he meant to.

"god, you're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes tracing over your body. he didn't notice your fingers brushing over the seam of the bottom of that tight compression shirt he likes to wear.

"can i?" you asked quietly, drawing his attention away from your face to your fingers.

"i'm all yours, sweetheart."

your stomach fluttered at the new pet name, and your fingers hooked under his shirt, helping him lift it over his head.

what sat in front of you was a body comparable to those statues carved by one of those ancient greek sculptors, his well-defined muscles softly lit by the moonlight spilling from your windows. thin silver threads of scars weaved around his skin, some thicker than others. your eyes slowly drifted along his neck, faintly covered in your lipstick, and then over his black and grey stubble, and finally to his face.

"not bad for an old man like me, huh?" he said lightly.

you chuckled, and held his chin, sandwiching it between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it. you let go of his chin, planting kissing along his chest, hoping that each kiss would take away each scar. his fingers were toying around with the waistband of your pajama bottoms, waiting for permission rather than taking it.

"take this upstairs?"

"take this upstairs." you nodded.

without another word, one arm scooped under your knees and then another under your back. your soft cheek rested against his solid chest, carrying you through the quiet of your house. he placed you on your floral-patterned duvet that was neatly folded up.

he paused for a second to take in the beauty that was laid across the bed in front of him. the way the light that slipped from your curtains, rippling onto your skin and catching the little silver charm that was tied onto the middle of your bra.

you were so gorgeous in all your youth, it made him a little self-conscious.

he knelt onto the bed, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your pajama bottoms. your placed your hands on top of his, guiding them downwards. a shared smiled passed between you as the fabric slid away.

your bra matched your panties. cute, he thought.

his fingers softly wrapped around your ankle, carefully guiding it upwards until it rested on his shoulder. he leaned into you, his perfect nose brushed against it as he peppered slow, lingering kisses along your foot while his other hand was cupped around your thigh - his pinky finger rubbing against your panties.

his kisses branched along your shin, growing sloppier and sloppier until he licks from your ankle to your knee.

"every time i see your legs in the office, with those high heels- those pantyhose," he breathily whispered while continuing to press his lips against your skin, "all i wanted was those legs on my shoulders."

his face was rubbing up against your inner thigh, the most sensitive part of your legs. he pushed his lips against it, then sucked harshly. at the sudden contact, you let out a small squeal, your hand immediately clutching his head, grabbing a handful of his hair. your feet were digging into his shoulders as he was laid down, leaving dark marks across your thighs.

"this okay?" he asked, his icy eyes peeking up at you from between your thighs, your hand still tightly locked around his hair.

"y-yeah," you stuttered, "i just can't believe we are doing this."

he let out a small hum which vibrated against your skin. "i'm glad you feel safe enough with me to do this."

you smiled at him before he licked against your panties, your eyes flicking upwards as he licked at the cloth that separated him and your sensitive bud. his finger hooked under the side and the cool air caressed your pussy.

your panties slid off, and he tucked them into the back of his pocket.

your cheeks got hotter, terrified of what he thought. no one had ever seen you like this - you'd never even come close to letting them.

"so gorgeous, sweetheart," his warm breath tickled your thigh before he pressed his lips against your folds. his tongue slowly moved upwards, the warm soft feeling along your pussy made you whine and jerk away from him. his big safe hands wrapped around your ass and thighs, holding you securely in place. "even your pussy tastes sweet, can't get enough of you, baby."

he began to lap at your folds, his nose brushing against your clit. a smile grew on his lips as he heard your desperate mewls, your hips buckling and urgently rubbing against his face. the sounds of his tongue working circles around and around your clit before suckling on it filled the room alongside your moans.

the pleasure that started to wave through your body was enough to see stars, his stubble brushing along your pussy - adding to the stars he was stringing in your mind. you fingers weaved through his hair, pulling on it as the exhales from his nose tickled the top of your pussy. he began to work faster in your folds, receiving a high-pitched panty wail. his chuckle dissolved within the lewd squelching noises between your thighs. the mattress began to bounce as he started to hump your duvet, a moan leaving his lips as he let go of your clit.

he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your fluids. you whined at the loss of warmth between your thighs.

"so needy, baby, it's okay," he cooed, his fingers lacing around his belt, unbuckling it with a haste as he saw your gaze focus around his erection.

"leon, i don't- i don't have any condoms," you pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows.

god, you were so beautiful. your pouty pillowy lips, slightly wet from drooling. the pink dusting on your cheeks. and you were looking at him if he hung the stars. how could he resist you?

"ah, fuck," he cursed, his cheeks heating as he fastened his belt again, "of course you don't."

"it's okay, just pull out." you sat up, slithering your hand around his.

"you sure?" he asked, watching your hand inch closer to his belt, "i don't want your first time to-"

"leon, i said it's okay," you murmured, undoing his belt and rubbing the hard length that was covered by the fabric of his pants.

"i'm getting you a plan b tomorrow morning though," he tried to hide the smirk tugging on his lips. his hands slid around your waist, slowly bringing you back down the mattress.

he pressed his two fingers to your lips, his mouth latching onto your neck again. you started licking the two digits, sucking and drooling onto them. his body caging you underneath him in a protectiveness you had never seen before. he eventually released the two fingers and slid them through your folds, your body recoiled at the touch, and a scream flew past your lips.

"ow- fuck, leon!" you gasped, your hand snatching his wrist out of reflex.

he looked mortified with himself, quickly retracting his fingers. he shifted his body so he was leaning on his side and pushed your hair away from your face.

"is everything okay?" his eyes frantically searched yours for an answer.

"yeah.. it, it just hurts, i'm sorry," you apologised, tears brimming at your eyes.

"don't apologise, sweetheart." he reassured, his lips brushing on your cheek, his voice so close that the vibration of it made your mind melt, "do you want to try again?"

you nodded. "we can try again."

"i'll be slow and gentle this time," he spoke softly as his fingers approached your entrance again, a slight pain at first, but then it shifted into pleasure. your body relaxed, and a moan slipped from your lips.

"good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"l-leon, s'feels so good," you slurred, your head falling back onto his shoulder. "i need you," your hand held onto his wrist that was rubbing along your sides.

you both momentarily looked at each other, realising you had both been waiting for this longer than you'd allow yourselves to admit.

you arched into his touch as his thumb made his way to your clit, making you release sweet moans of his name. squelches of your pussy sucking in his fingers filled the room while they hit repeatedly against a spot that built a knot in your stomach. his fingers were coated in your slick, making a mess of the duvet that was underneath.

"you think you ready for my cock baby? you're doing so good," he kissed your flushed cheek.

"yeah, i jus' need you," you whispered, your eyes turning into the kitten-like eyes he saw when he first met you.

"i need you too," he whispered back, licking your bottom lip and chin and pulling out his two fingers. he began to shift his underwear off, his tip peeking through the fabric. "you comfortable?"

you nodded and shifted your legs around him. you gasped as he prodded his tip at your entrance.

"i'm going to go slowly. i don't want to hurt you, my sweet girl," he hummed, his hand cupping your cheek, rubbing small circles into your cheek before holding your leg up.

"o-ohkay," you panted breathily, your mouth slightly parted and your legs spread around him.

he let out a grunt as he pushed the tip past your folds, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. you let out another high-pitched moan, looking up at him through a blurry vision. the painful stretch burned into pleasure.

"tell me when you're ready for more,"

you gasped, feeling completely full already - so overwhelmed by the feeling that you felt paralysed with pleasure.

"i-i'm ready," you whimpered, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders.

"doing s'good for me," he murmured.

you thought he had completely filled you, until he let out a groan and pushed even more, pure bliss in every inch.

"oh god, you're so tight," he let out something comparable to a whine.

"ah- leon!" you cried out, your feet clutching around his waist. your back arched like a cat, your head thrown back. "keep goin',"

the first thrust was slow, you felt the loss of him lingering in your walls and then the overwhelming gain of him filling you up. you were just letting out sweet moans, your warm breath against his collarbone. just looking at you was going to make him cum. your lips parted, your head turning to the side, your eyes fluttering shut before you found him again. it was a sight he thought he never would've seen, a sight he thought was pure fantasy, a sight he convinced himself existed only in imagination.

you caught his stare and offered him the prettiest smile, the corner of your eyes creasing in a way that made his chest tighten. moonlight traced your lashes and he thought, just for a second, that he found the warmth of the sun rather than the night. he exchanged the smile, his forehead resting against yours as his hips slowly meet yours again, ever so gently like you were the most precious thing in existence - worried the moment might break if he rushed it.

skin met skin, hands holding into one another's flesh, the loving tender kisses between breaths. it all felt as if your souls were merging together, allowing each other to appreciate and make love to your rawest, most vulnerable forms. as if the two of you only wanted to absorb all the other's pain and bring it back in the form of love.

the two of you, so used to your lonely routine, unravelled in each other's touch. the bliss of it all was something you couldn't let go of. nothing about it felt rushed or wrong; you knew you were meant to be held so closely to him.

"leon, i'm gonna cum." you whined, the knot built quicker, a high you had to chase, your desperation had you meeting his thrusts.

"cum for me, baby, you've done so, so well," he whispered, pressing another kiss on your forehead as his movements grew deeper, hitting against a spongy spot that made you think you were going to faint from holding anything in. the sensation had your thoughts scattering, the knot tightening until you couldn't hold it in anymore. his breathing turned uneven, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, not himself but on you. "do it, don't hide your moans- i wanna- wanna hear your sweet voice,"

his thumb began to rub against your clit and surges of pleasure came crashing down.

"leon!" you screamed, your back arching higher. he shifted himself upwards so he was on his knees, still thrusting into you and helping you ride out your high as he clutched his big hands around your thighs while your legs were shaking uncontrollably. you thought you were going to pass out, the pleasure was too much to handle.

small moans were drawn from you as you recovered from your orgasm, and then a huge gasp as leon pulled out of you.

"i'm gonna fucking cum-," he whimpered, his hands digging into your leg as his body stuttered forward, white pearly ropes falling onto your stomach. whines of your name left his throat while his head leant back, his adam's apple more prominent than before. as the last few beads of cum left his tip, his body collapsed onto yours, his fluid sticking your stomach against his.

you both panted against each other, the rise and fall of chests synchronising. he lifted his head up, laying his lips on your temple and stroking your hair from your face with careful fingers.

"i want you," he murmured, his pale blue eyes searching for something in yours. words were his weakness, or being poetic or whatever it was girls loved. so instead his thumb brushed your cheek, hoping you understood what he couldn't explain.

you were good with words. you could envision exactly what you wanted to say to him, but your mouth was a barrier. a quiet fear you couldn't push through, so you settled for something smaller, something you could manage:

"will you stay the night?"

he paused, and then scoffed, slightly insulted by the thought of you thinking he would leave after all of this.

"is that even a question? of course i will,"

peeling yourselves away from each other, you watched his cum string between both of your stomachs.

"where are your towels?" he asked, a creeping awkwardness settling between the two of you. neither of you knew what to say next now everything was slow and silent.

you wanted to fend it off, to make sure the moment wasn't broken, but you couldn't muster up the words to ease the situation.

"bathroom, on the left."

he came back with a white towel draped over his shoulder and a glass of water, placing the glass on the bedside table.

"drink." he commanded, you rolled your eyes a little at his monosyllabic approach but you did so anyway while he cleaned up your stomach.

you raised your arm, inviting him into your bed. "come here."

he slid in as you giggled, his broad frame that was covered in his dark hair, holding you amongst your white floral duvet and your pink lace-trimmed pillows. he was a princess.

"this is a very you bed," he chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around you.

"i think you match it pretty well," you teased, melting into his touch, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

"i look out of place," he replied, leaning his head against yours, his eyes taking in your room.

your hand absentmindedly traced hearts into his chest, your fingers tickling against the hairs.

"you're drawing something."

"alright, mr observant," you said, a smirk playing on your lips.

"hearts?"

"maybe."

a silence settled between the two of you.

"you good with this? after everything?" leon asked, despite you in his arms.

"with you?" your finger stilled, "i don't feel like running or shutting you out."

"good."

you looked up at him, your hand reaching out to stroke your thumb along his eyebrow, then the other, pulling them apart from the furrowed knitted knot they were always in.

"hey-"

you burst out laughing. "i've always wanted to do that."

he sighed, pulling you closer to him, as if he was trying to absorb you, as if he was trying to memorise the shape of you.

"you sure you're okay?" he mumbled, his thumb rubbing circles around your shoulder. "not just saying it?"

"how many times do you need me to tell you?" you teased, pinching his cheek. he caught your wrist and pulled it away, only to grab your chin and squeeze your cheeks.

"just wanted to hear it again," he whispered, letting go of your face.

"i'm happy, leon. you're not going to run in the morning and pretend this never happened?"

"i drove through a storm, told you i would eat my own fingers to see you and stood at your porch like an idiot. i think i am beyond committed now," his voice was laced with a quiet laugh.

"good," you chuckled a little, "i'm not going anywhere either."

"i'm not good at... normal. but i don't want distance between us again," he admitted, sounding a little stiff. you stilled, knowing your brain hated these vulnerable conversations so much, but you knew that you had to let yourself feel these feelings, so you forced yourself to stay, rather than to retreat to silence.

"it won't happen unless you run first," you said.

"not planning on it." he pressed one last kiss to your temple that night, settling his head against yours.

author's note: