Random posts, mainly fandom stuff

You’re spending the weekend at Leon’s place. Since he’s been busy with his police job, you haven’t had much time together lately. But he’s free this weekend, so he invited you to stay over for a few days. You eagerly accepted and even prepared a surprise for him.

When you two arrived, he opened the car door for you, and you stepped out while holding his hand. He’s always been such a gentleman, but you also know he has his adorable side.

You made your way inside the house, and he immediately pinned you to the wall, peppering kisses all over your face while cupping your cheeks. The warmth of his breath and the faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you.

“Leon!” you almost giggled. You love being treated like a princess; after all, he’s your prince charming.

“Sorry. I missed you a lot,” he said with a small laugh, tracing his thumb across your cheekbone. Then he took a step back. “Make yourself comfortable, okay? In the meantime, I’ll gather some snacks for the movie night.” He smiled, and you nodded before heading upstairs.

Once in his room, you opened your backpack and pulled out the white lace lingerie set with strawberries. It was a pretty bralette with a subtle push-up. You stepped in front of the mirror to see how it looked on you. It was perfect. Your cleavage was beautifully displayed, and the front of the panties was delightfully see-through.

Finally, you slipped on the white nightgown with lace around the chest and slowly made your way downstairs.

Leon was lying on the couch, two beers and some snacks already set out, completely unaware that you were standing by the stairs.

“Hey,” you called softly, arms behind your back.

He turned to look at you, and his eyes went wide. “God…” That adorable puppy face appeared. “You look… fucking gorgeous.”

You gave a small chuckle. “Glad you liked it! This set was very expensive.” You walked over and crawled into his arms, the soft fabric of the nightgown whispering against your skin.

“Next time you come, I’ll surprise you with a new one,” he said while smiling, then he tilted your face toward him and leaned in to kiss you. His lips were warm and soft. “Now how am I supposed to watch the movie, huh?” He kissed you again and again, occasionally sucking on your lower lip, the soft, wet sounds filling the quiet room.

“Sorry!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, savoring the heat of his mouth.

You both pulled away to catch your breath, foreheads nearly touching. “There’s more underneath this nightgown… wanna see?” you asked, almost teasingly.

His eyes brightened, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me.” He gently tugged you closer until you were straddling his lap, his large, warm hands sliding respectfully over your waist, thumbs brushing the curve of your hips through the thin fabric.

You smiled shyly as he reached for the hem of the nightgown and slowly lifted it.

Cool air kissed your thighs as the lace lingerie set came into view. His gaze softened with awe, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck… strawberries?” he whispered, his voice rough. He traced a finger lightly over the delicate lace of your bralette, the rough pad of his fingertip sending sparks across your skin. “You wore this for me?” He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Baby…”

He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss just below your collarbone, his hot breath fanning over your chest. Then another kiss, open-mouthed and warm, right over the swell of your breast. His hands stayed gentle, one resting on your lower back, fingers splayed possessively, the other cupping your cheek.

“You’re adorable,” he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine, “and so damn sexy at the same time. How is that fair?” He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue brushing yours while his thumb gently stroked your jaw.

You melted into him, the movie completely forgotten. His scent filled your senses as he whispered sweet little praises between kisses. His breath hitched sharply when his fingers brushed over the sheer front of your panties, feeling the damp heat there.

“God, baby…” he groaned softly, low and husky. “You’re already so wet for me.”

The raw need in his voice made you whimper. He kissed you harder, tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming you, while one hand cupped your breast through the thin bralette, thumb circling your hardening nipple.

“Mhm… just for you,” you whispered breathlessly against his lips, tasting the faint salt of his skin.

Leon broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, his warm exhale mingling with yours. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He let out a soft, awkward chuckle.

“How did I get so lucky?” you corrected him with a smirk.

Then he tugged the nightgown higher, pulling it over your head. The fabric brushed teasingly over your sensitive skin before he tossed it aside. Leaning forward, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your cleavage, his tongue tracing the edge of the lace, leaving wet trails that cooled in the air.

“These strawberries look so cute on you,” he murmured, nipping lightly. The gentle sting sent sparks straight to your core.

You let out a small moan as his hand squeezed your ass, the firm grip guiding your movements while you rocked against the growing hardness in his lap. “Leon… it feels good,” you breathed, fingers threading through his soft hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned at your words, clearly flustered. “Yeah?” One of his hands slipped under the lace of your panties, fingers gliding through your slick folds with a wet, obscene sound. The heat of his touch made your thighs tremble as he kissed and sucked at your neck, leaving faint marks.

After a moment, his other hand moved up your back. He fumbled with the bralette clasp and let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Hang on… these things always fight back,” he muttered. When it finally came undone, he slowly slid the straps down your shoulders. The lace dragged teasingly over your skin before he pulled the bralette off completely.

As your breasts were fully exposed to the cool air, your nipples tightened instantly.

He stared for a second, visibly affected, breathing ragged. “Fuck…” He gently cupped them, warm palms enveloping the soft weight, thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks in slow, reverent strokes. “You’re perfect.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “You like what you see?” you asked teasingly, your voice a little shy.

“Like it? I love it,” he replied, voice husky. He leaned in and kissed the swell of one breast, then the other, his stubble grazing deliciously. He slowly took one into his mouth, sucking gently while his tongue swirled around the nipple. The wet heat and rhythmic pull made you arch into him with a soft, needy moan.

“I-I’m just trying not to rush… and overwhelm you. You look too good like this,” he said breathily, voice muffled against your skin.

You gently brushed his hair with your hand. “Take your time then.” You smiled.

He let out a warm chuckle that vibrated against you. “Oh, I will.” He started kissing down your stomach, slow and deliberate, lips and tongue leaving a trail of heat. The lower he went, the more you felt his breath trembling against your skin. “Is it okay if I…” he whispered, voice thick with desire.

“Oh, yes…” You whimpered, your voice trembling with need. His heart was pounding; you could feel it against your thigh as he slowly slid your panties down your legs, the lace catching slightly on your skin. You were now completely bare, the cool air kissing your soaked folds.

“Gosh… look at you,” he spoke softly, almost reverent. He spread your thighs wider, his hands perfect against your smooth skin. He gave open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, sucking lightly and leaving faint marks. “You okay?”

“Yes, please…” You whispered, holding his head with one hand, fingers tightening in his hair.

With your approval, his tongue gave you one long, slow lick from entrance to clit.

The wet heat and firm pressure made your hips jerk. He did it again, savoring you, a deep groan rumbling from his chest at your taste. “Fuck…” he rasped, the vibration shooting through you. He took his time, licking and sucking your clit with lazy, deliberate strokes, soft flicks, and gentle suction.

Then he brought two thick fingers up and slowly pushed them inside you. His fingers scissored gently, curling against that sensitive spot while his tongue circled your swollen clit relentlessly. Wet sounds and your shared heavy breathing filled the room.

You were still panting, thighs trembling, when he crawled back up, kissing you deeply. You tasted yourself on his tongue as his slick fingers traced lazy patterns on your hip.

“You should see how beautiful you look right now,” he breathed, giving you small, affectionate kisses all over your flushed face.

“I love you, Leon,” you whimpered.

“I love you more,” he whispered.

Your smile widened as you leaned over him, your gaze lingering on his sleeping face for a moment longer.

Then, overcome by a sudden wave of what could only be described as cute aggression, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger there briefly before pulling away.

A fond smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned in again, pressing another gentle kiss against the side of his temple.

He doesnt move.

So you kissed his cheek, and a giggle bubble up your chest. Then slowly you pressed your lips on his nose.

"God, Leon you're so pretty."

Then his jaw.

"My husband." You smiled and murmured against his skin.

Though still nothing, so you pulled back a bit, Leon wasnt making any noises except few snore that sounded way too fake.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him, because he was way too still and there was absolutely no way Leon Kennedy slept this deeply.

Determined now, you gently brushed your fingers through his hair before trailing them down his arm, slowly tracing the muscles beneath his shirt.

Goosebumps rose over his body as his breathe deepens but he doesnt wake.

"Uh-oh you are gonna play this game, hm?" you whispered and poked his cheek.

He was still-still.

Then you cradled his face before squishing it slightly. Your eyes narrowed further at him and you playfully hum, “Guess I could bite him now.”

Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly even though he still refused to open them.

The moment you caught it, you immediately sat upright, a betrayed smile spreading across your face. "You're awake." you accused and in same breath you gasped dramatically. "You are a terrible actor!"

But still he plays pretend and lies still, then slowly sighing you lean closer to him, "Leon."

The next thing you knew, a strong arm slipped around your waist. You barely had time to let out a startled squeak before the world tilted beneath you.

In one smooth motion, Leon pulled you down onto him, and suddenly you found yourself sprawled across his chest. "Leon!" you yelped, gripping his shoulders as his laughter rumbled beneath you.

"You were saying?" He chuckles deeply, his words vibrating in your chest.

"You were pretending to sleep!"

"You kissed me like twelve times." Leon grins.

"You counted?"

"I counted every single one."

Your face immediately warmed, as heat spreads across your chest and the traitor only looked pleased with himself.

And you notice his one arm remained securely around your waist while the other settled behind his head. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, yet amusement danced inside them.

"You look very proud of yourself," you giggled, rubbing your chin lightly against his chest as you settled more comfortably on top of him. The motion only seemed to make his smug expression grow wider.

"I am." He mumbled.

"For what?"

"Catching you." Leon teased as he rubbed his chin across your hairs, making you giggle again.

Then as you gaze up at him, his smile softened a moment later, and his eyes slothfully locked on yours, like he was seeing something worth millions.

Your heartbeat stumbled at his softened reaction. "What?"

For a moment he simply looked at you. Then his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His expression turned unexpectedly gentle and he whispers with a smile, "When I look in your eyes," he paused then takes a big deep breath before continuing, "I see the entire galaxy reflecting back at me."

Your breath get caught in your lungs again, "Wow."

The smug smile returned instantly on his face. "Wow?"

"You are so cheesy first thing in the morning," you teased, though your heart was already betraying you, drumming frantically against your chest as warmth spread across your face.

"I was being romantic," he pouted, his lips jutting out ever so slightly as he looked at you with exaggerated offense.

You mumbled against his chest. "Fine, fine... it made my heart stutter."

Leon chuckled softly at that before pressing a kiss against your temple.

Then he rested his chin lightly atop your head as you settled more comfortably against his chest. Your own chin found its place on his shoulder while his arms remained securely around you.

You stayed like that, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing beneath your ear.

After a while, you glanced up at him and found his eyes closed, a peaceful expression settling across his features.

A small smile tugged at your lips at the sight. For all his toughness, Leon was an absolute softie when it came to you, and moments like these reminded you of that more than anything else.

For a while you just stayed there tangled in each other as morning sunlight continued to spill across the room.

While the blankets tangled between your legs.

You felt so comfortable lying on top of him that it genuinely felt as though you were resting on a cloud.

As the two of you gradually relaxed into the quiet of the morning, you tilted your head upward, your chin brushing lightly against his chest. "When did you wake up?" you asked, letting out a soft sigh against his skin as you looked up at him.

Leon didn't even open his eyes this time, instead he hummed and replied, "When you were staring at me."

You laughed shaking your head and lifted your head to look at him. "You were awake at that point?" you asked, disbelief and amusement slipping into your voice.

"You know when you stirred I though you were going to be awake and I can't sleep when you're not near me. Can't help it, baby," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

A quiet sigh escaped you at his words, and you melted further against his chest, feeling strangely safe there, almost as if you were being held by an angel, instead of Leon.

The sound you made earned another kiss against your temple. Then Leon pulled you even closer against his chest, his arms tightening around you as though he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Absentmindedly, your fingers found his biceps, tracing lazy circles over them while you settled comfortably against him.

Neither of you made any effort to leave the warmth of the bed, content to remain tangled together in the quiet comfort of the morning. Because after all, some mornings were simply too good to rush.

sylus would give you a cocky smirk the moment you pushed him completely down on your shared bed. he would lay languidly above the pillows, garnet eyes sparkling with a challenge in his gaze. do your worst, is what he seems to tell you, yet still, you refuse to relent. choosing to play dirty with him (since he always played dirty with you) you lift up the soft fabric of his sweater, already descending your lips upon his perky nipples while giving them an audible suck. the onychinus leader’s response was immediate, gasping for air while your hips slowly undulated itself against the hard wall of his muscular abs. the subtle hitch in his breathing would alert you to his impending arousal as you worked on chasing your high- with your swollen clit catching on to the ridges of his abdomen through the ruined sheer material of your lace panties.

zayne is more purposeful when it comes to foreplay with you. your clothes would be tossed aside as he plays your body like an instrument. he draws out every moan and breathy sigh with calloused hands that map out your body (keeping the hidden knowledge of each curve and dip of your form like a sacred script.) as you lay naked and trembling above him, he would settle your aching sex over the fabric of his shirt, allowing the subtle movement of your hips to move up his shirt, revealing the wall of muscle settled beneath you along with a happy that shares the same hue as his slicked back strands of hair. zayne senses the hesitation in your demeanor while letting out a sigh, gripping your hips while sliding your cunt back and forth on his abs. encouraged by his movements, you slowly braced yourself on top of his chest before moving on your own, your gasps echoing throughout the room as you worked on chasing your high.

xavier is the one who would be the most eager to watch you riding his abs with an almost reverent expression. his true blue eyes would drink in your every movement as he lays back in bed for you. the philos prince would swallow thickly seeing the way your bare body remained hidden beneath a gossamer nightgown as you slowly straddled his waist. he feels the way your thighs clash together before slowly moving upwards, allowing your nakedness to finally meet with his heated walls of muscles. he bites down on his bottom lips, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you bounced and slid your heat over his form. and as the heavy scent of your honeyed arousal began clinging to his naked skin- he couldn’t stop the almost feral thought of never wishing your scent to leave him.

rafayel would immediately seduce you into riding his abs if you ever got mad at him. he’d give you an almost playful smile while giving you a come hither expression, beckoning you closer to him. and when you would try to refuse and fight back against his seductive smiles- you knew it was useless when he brings you to him anyways. his hands would skillfully slide of your panties (slightly smirking at seeing how wet the fabric felt) before planting you directly over his abs. the sudden hedonistic sensation of your cunt meeting his lithe body causes your back to arch, already forgetting the reason why you were mad at him to begin with as your body instinctively moved above him. with the lemurian quickly regaining his confidence, he lays back in bed while enjoying the show of you using him for your own pleasure.

caleb would feel his cock straining against the front of his sweatpants the moment you straddle yourself over his toned abs. an almost innocuous smile would paint your lips as you steady yourself on top of his shoulder. your movements were shy at first, almost hesitant as you tried to find the perfect pace to help with chasing your high. too focused on your own movements, you failed to notice the way your colonel’s eyes seemed to darken considerably before planting his large hands on your waist. letting out a grunt of your name, he slides your naked cunt over his taut muscles at an almost rapid pace, making you cry out to him as you nearly fell over him. he was smirking now, his expression almost becoming devilish as he leans in to whisper in your ear, i’ll let you have your fun, but the moment you’re satisfied is when it’ll be your turn to satisfy me… by devouring my dick with this greedy pussy that’s staining at my skin.

end notes:

“Did you know I started this piece a year ago?” His words echo slightly in the now empty room. The lights pointing straight at the painting cast beautiful shadows across his face. You only hum in response, reading the title card next to the painting. 

The Sea’s Love.

“Good thing it sold for the highest then,” you joke lightly, still focusing on the painting ahead of you. Rafayel turns his head slightly, gaze focusing on you. 

“When I first started painting it, I was fueled by anger and frustrations,” he states, voice neutral as he continues to watch you. “I was so angry, I felt like I would never be able to feel truly happy, like I’d never trust enough to be able to love again.” Rafayel pauses for a second, eyes shifting back to the painting you were so engrossed in. “I abandoned it after three days of working on it.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, focus finally tearing from the art to the artist beside you. 

“You said you finished this in six days though,” there’s genuine confusion on your face as you continue, “and you said you were inspired by feelings of hope and love, not anger.” 

Rafayel hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer to you. “I did. Somewhere along the way I realized I could love again, but it doesn't mean those negative feelings just vanished overnight.” 

“So your anger and fears, they still live alongside the way you love and devote yourself to whoever your beloved may be.” It was less of a question and more of an observation. You cocked your head at an angle, eyes tracing every brushstroke. 

“Exactly Miss Bodyguard. Love is like the sea, filled with beauty and serenity, but also storms and chaos. That's what love truly is, messy and heartbreakingly wonderful."

It was nice to talk to Rafayel when he was in his element and not making your job next to impossible. You smiled at the explanation, nodding your head and turning to look at him, his eyes met yours. 

“That’s nice, I like that.” 

“I picked it up again a month ago. I found new inspiration, one that invoked the more ‘positive’ influence of the painting.” He’s quiet for a moment, eyes lingering on you enough to make your face flush, “right after I met you, actually.” His eyes never left yours, and the last couple words make heat rise quickly to your cheeks. The room felt too hot all of a sudden, and you were quick to break eye contact first. 

“I think they’re about to shut the lights off, let’s get you home before Thomas tries to pitch you a commission for a sponsor,” you smile, turning on your heel and taking a deep breath. So he picked up his painting about love and the complexity of it after he met you? So what? It doesn’t mean anything, just a coincidence, a one off chance that will probably never occur again. 

Rafayel smiles behind you, watching as you wipe your hands nervously on your pants. You were flustered, cute. He takes one last glance at the painting, focusing on the middle right, where he’d hidden your initials among brushstrokes.

It was hard for you to say no to people. Even harder when ‘people’ was Rafayel staring at you with wide pleading eyes, and you were saying ‘no’ to an all-expenses-paid trip to Italy to visit his aunt for the weekend. 

“Miss Bodyguard, what if EVER gets me on the flight there? Or my stalkers figure out where I’m staying and kidnap me? I’ll be defenseless and all alone and you’d be none the wiser!” Rafayel gives you his best pout, and damn it was good. 

“Rafayel, I promised my friends I’d go to dinner with them already,” you sighed, guilt creeping in your chest as your mind ran wild with possibilities. What if something bad did happen to him? What if he really did need you there?

“Fine, when you see on Linkon City News that world-famous artist Rafayel Qi was found dead on the Italian coast, you better not cry.” He huffs softly before getting up from his spot on the couch, heading to his back porch as the sun begins to set. 

You frowned at his words, quickly following him outside. “If you’re worried about security you could always hire someone else! I’m sure anyone would-”

“I don’t want anyone, I want you.” For a moment a flicker of something flashes in his eyes, it leaves before you can place it. Your stomach flips at his words, and you have to remind yourself he doesn’t mean those words in the way you secretly hoped he did. This was a professional relationship. As professional as a pouting diva artist and overworked hunter-turned-security detail can be, at least. 

Rafayel leans on the railing that heads to the beach, chin propped in the palm of his hand as he scowls. He knew you’d feel guilty if he sulked for long enough, and sulk he did. “I’m sure my dumb seagulls will miss me when I’m dead in three days time, we never finished our final choir act y’know.” 

You rolled your eyes, pulling your phone out and sending a profuse apology to your group chat. You can’t make brunch Saturday, the job you took as a side quest is requiring you to travel for an event this weekend. 

“Watcha writing? You should look up caskets near us, help me choose one since I’ll be dead in-” you cut him off by flicking his forehead. “Ow! What was that for? You’re supposed to protect me!” 

“You are so dramatic you know that?” Rafayel can’t help but smile, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. “Stop smiling, you ruined my weekend plans,” you furrowed your brows at him, looking out into the ocean as the sun slowly sunk deeper into its depths. The oranges and pinks never failed to take your breath away. 

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior Miss Bodyguard.” 

You were going to kill Rafayel. You had to find him first, but then you were going to kill him. This was poor foresight in your end, you had to admit. You really should’ve put two and two together when Rafayel took you dress shopping and picked out only items that matched his suit. 

“I thought you were just visiting?” You’d asked, zipping up the dress and looking in the mirror.

“Well yes, but she has this charity event she’s putting on, told me to come and support the cause,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled mindlessly on social media, he smiled when he saw your moments posts.

“What’s she donating to?” You asked as you smoothed the dress out, fixing your hair a bit and twirling to see how it fit. 

“Combating human trafficking,” he replied, it wasn’t a total lie. 

“Oh that’s nice.”

The sound of the curtain opening made him snap his head up. He thought his nose might start bleeding soon.

“What do you think? I feel like maybe it’s too much? I’m just security so I shouldn’t be flashy in the first place,” you slowly shrunk into yourself, Rafayel was quick on his feet. 

“It’s perfect,” he breathed out, his fingers ghosting over your shoulders, itching to finally touch your skin. It took every fiber of his being to pull away, he swallowed hard before shaking his head. “You’re my security, you have to look the part, don’t want you embarrassing me with a boring outfit do you?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly as you caught your reflection in the mirror. “It is really pretty, isn’t it?” Your eyes were focused on the detail of the gown, Rafayel was focused on the details of your face. 

“Very beautiful,” he agreed softly. 

“Miss Y/N?” The voice pulled you out of your haze, a nervous smile on your lips as you focused back on the woman in front of you. 

“My apologies, what did you say?” Your eyes shift nervously around the room, hoping to find the familiar purple haired man you’d arrived with. 

“How long have you and Rafayel been together?” The question would’ve been harmless, had you actually been in a relationship with the artist. You were grateful for the amount of training the association made you do on remaining stoic under pressure. 

So with a gentle smile you replied, “only about a month,” the lady cooed at you, going on about young love. The second your eyes met with Rafayel’s across the room, you quickly excused yourself. Rafayel smiled at you, then he realized your eyes were narrowed at him, his smile seemed to grow when you roughly grabbed his arm. 

“Where the hell did you go?!” You hiss at him, making sure your voice wasn’t too loud. 

“Miss me already cutie? I was just giving the staff my piece for the auction, doing my part or whatever,” he smiled at you, trying to hide how much he loved how angry you looked. 

“Okay first of all do not call me that,” Rafayel pouts at your words. “Second of all I’m here as your security, to secure you, make sure you’re secure. How do you suppose I do that when you run off behind my back?” You smack him lightly with your purse, hitting him harder when he lets out a string of ‘ow's that cause guests to turn and look at the two of you. Both of you give them convincing enough smiles to turn away. 

“Third of all, why did some random lady ask me how long we’ve been together?” 

Rafayel’s cheeks turn a hue of pink as you ask your third question, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips as he looks at you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen. No, stay strong. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for running off. I just had to give them the canvas I donated or else Aunt Talia would have me gutted. I promise I won’t do it again cu- Miss Bodyguard,” he begrudgingly corrects himself, you thank him under your breath. “As for the last question, hypothetically, how angry would you be if I told my Aunt that you were my girlfriend and everyone accidentally found out? Hypothetically.” 

It wasn’t an accident, he’d asked Talia to put you down as his plus one, and next to your name on the guest list were the words ‘Rafayel’s muse.’

“Hypothetically you don’t pay me enough to fake date you,” you bite back, hoping he can’t see the flush on your cheeks or hear how fast your heart is beating. “Hypothetically,” you sigh out, pinching the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes for a moment before looking at Rafayel, “if you have a good enough reason for it then I won’t quit.”

“Well, if everyone knew you were my bodyguard they’d know to target you, and then without you I’d be a defenseless fish out of water.” You hate how quickly he replies, and you hate how much of a point he has. You can only grumble, muttering something about a raise before taking a flute of champagne, chugging it down, and slipping your arm into Rafayel’s. 

He pulls you closer to his side. You steal a glance at someone’s program, seeing that underneath the piece Rafayel had donated was your name, and next to it were the words ‘to my one and only muse.’ It must all be part of the ruse, the way he complimented you and stole glances at you throughout the night was just to sell the act. 

And when he takes the heels off your feet and carries you from the cab to your hotel room, you take it as him just being nice. The way his eyes linger on you for a second too long when you say goodnight at the door probably means nothing. 

You stare up at the hotel ceiling, repeating it to yourself until you can convince yourself of it. 

It means nothing. There’s nothing there. 

You wish the butterflies in your stomach and the thumping against your rib cage got the memo. 

Rafayel takes you into the city the next day, buying souvenirs for the two of you. His hand brushes against yours more times than you can count, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches in your throat. (he does).

When the two of you arrive in Linkon again you turn to say goodbye to Rafayel, finding him already looking at you. 

“I really enjoyed being with you this weekend,” his words catch you off guard, mouth slightly agape as you scramble to find the meaning behind his words. There’s no way he means fake dating you, that would never happen. You smile at him and nod in agreement. 

“So did I, I’ll see you around,” you reply, not thinking too much of it, you can’t let yourself. Before you can turn to hail a cab, his hand envelopes your wrist, his mouth opens slightly, like he’s going to say something. 

“What is it?” You ask, scanning his face for a moment and ensuring nothing was wrong. He’s quiet for a moment, still holding you in place. 

How does he stop you from leaving? How does he keep you with him for as long as possible? 

“Let me give you a ride home, airport cabs are way too expensive,” he finally says, his voice as relaxed as it always was. You want to punch yourself for thinking he would say anything else. 

“It’s okay Rafayel, if you’re that worried about my finances just give me a raise,” you tease, waving goodbye and easily slipping out of his grasp. You feel your chest tighten as you close the door behind you, letting out a small sigh. Fake dating for a weekend didn’t mean anything, him falling asleep on your shoulder during the plane ride was nothing. 

There’s nothing there, you remind yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the clouds, as much as you wished there was, there wasn’t. 

You needed to go out on a date. It was starting to get ridiculous. So you did what any sensible person does: bought bottles of wine and invited your friends over to curate your dating profile. Hours later through flushed cheeks and barely contained giggles, it was done. Now all that was left for you to do was swipe on whoever you liked and hope you’d match. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize that half the people on there only really wanted one night stands and nothing serious. With most of them starting off with terrible pick up lines and the rest jumping straight to “dtf?” You were seriously giving up hope, until finally you came across someone who actually struck up a conversation. 

Two weeks later you found yourself fidgeting with your outfit, changing for the third time and fixing your hair one more time. You jumped as your phone buzzed on your bathroom counter top. 

[incoming video call from Rafayel]

You answered on the second ring, phone still on the counter with only the top half of your head showing as you fixed your mascara. 

“Hey Miss Bodyguard wanna come over? I need your opinion on this art piece I’m working on,” he pans the camera over to a colorful canvas before re-centering his face, you can see his brows furrowing as he watches your actions. “What are you doing?” 

“Sorry Rafayel, I can’t today I have plans already,” you blink a couple times before finally feeling satisfied, fluffing your hair and grabbing your phone. “I don't think I'm qualified to give opinions on art, but I can swing by tomorrow after work?” You watch as Rafayel’s eyes widen, his mouth opens slightly as he stares at you. “Hello?” 

“Do I have an event I didn’t know about?” Rafayel questions, swallowing hard as he blinks rapidly, drinking in your appearance through his phone screen. God, you looked gorgeous. 

“No, no, just going on a date is all,” you mumble, embarrassed beyond belief as your cheeks heat up.

“A date?” Rafayel feels his world stop, blood going cold. 

“Yeah figured I should put myself out there y’know? It’s been a while and I’ve been- anyway whatever, good luck with your painting!” You smile brightly before hanging up. Rafayel thinks his phone might crack from how tightly he was holding it. You absolutely could not go on that date. 

You needed this date, you had to get over your feelings for Rafayel. Taking a deep breath you finally exited your apartment, locking your door and heading for the cafe you’d agree to meet at. 

When you arrived at the cafe you sent your date a quick message, telling him you’d be seated in a booth near the back corner. You tapped your fingers against the table, looking around the room as you checked your phone. It’s fine, people run late all the time. 

Ten more minutes passed, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt to order your drink while you waited. You stood nervously in line and glanced at the door with every ring of the bell, heart sinking when it wasn’t your date. The thumping of your heart slowly subdued, and you felt silly for getting your hopes up so much. 

With slumped shoulders you slid back into the booth, checking your phone one more time as you sipped on your drink. Nothing. The door opened again, the small bell on top of the door rang as your head shot up. 

It wasn’t your date. You sipped your drink slowly, opening your phone and staring at the last text your date had sent you. 

‘See you soon! :)’

It’d been thirty minutes already, you’d texted him with no response. Just your luck you get ghosted on your first date back on the dating scene. With a heavy heart and a bruised ego you threw your now empty cup in the trash can, stepping into the warm summer air and taking a deep breath. Maybe it was a sign.

You didn't move when you got in your car, staring blankly at your steering wheel for a moment. The sound of your phone vibrating made your heart rate pick up, quickly checking the screen. 

[incoming call from Rafayel]

You take a deep breath, muttering a small prayer under your breath before answering. 

“Hello?” 

“You know it’s terrible etiquette to answer your phone while on a date right?,” you can hear his teasing tone, it makes your stomach churn. 

“It uh- ended early,” you lie, “what’s up?” 

Rafayel grins at your words, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he places an ice pack over his knuckles, walking back to the couch. 

“I ordered way too much takeout, what are the odds you wanna swing by and grab some? We can put on that movie you told me about last week,” Rafayel adjusts the bouquet of flowers he got you during his side quest earlier. 

You’re quiet for a moment, this was definitely not going to help squash your bubbling feelings for the artist. But you were starving, and you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity just yet, not when your hair had turned out so nicely. 

“Did you finish your painting already?”

“I can work on it tomorrow,” he huffs out, “c’moooooon cutie, come over and help me finish this food, please?” 

“I’ll be there in 15,” you reply, biting back your smile as you shake your head and hang up. 

You unlock his front door with the key he’d given you, calling out to make sure he knew it was you entering. Within seconds he rounded the corner, a smile on his face as he greeted you, clad in a hoodie and shorts. The sight never failed to make your heartbeat race. 

“You look beautiful y’know,” Rafayel says softly after the two of you finish eating. You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, your eyes are glued to the TV stuck on a loading screen. “He’s an idiot to not have realized what a catch you are, cutie.” 

You don’t have enough fight in you to protest against the pet name, you know he doesn’t mean it romantically. You're too emotionally drained to think about the fact that you never even told him how the date went

“Thanks Raf,” you say softly, had anything been playing he wouldn’t have heard it. 

“I’m Raf now?” The man grins, cheeks dusted pink as he repeats the nickname. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. 

“Don’t make me take it back,” you groan as he scoots closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder and letting a content sigh leave his lips. Maybe it was because you already felt vulnerable and Rafayel just so happened to be there for you. Maybe it was because he handed you a bouquet of flowers when you walked in the door. You don’t know why you say it, but you do. 

“I should’ve known better than to think I’d find someone on a fucking dating app,” you scoff, laughing slightly as your gaze settles in your lap. Rafayel sits up straighter, a sympathetic smile on his face. 

“Hey,” his voice is feathery, his touch even more so as he lifts your chin for you to look at him, “dating apps are stupid, I could’ve told you that for free.” He smiles, you can’t help but reciprocate it. 

“You’re amazing, you know that? Anyone would be lucky to have you,” his face is closer to you than you ever remember it being, “I would be lucky to have you.” There’s no playful undertone in his words and no pout on his lips as he stares at you. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a fraction of a second. 

“Rafayel,” you breathe out, eyelashes fluttering as everything becomes too much. What was happening? Could this mean-

The sound of the movie abruptly starting makes you jump, the sudden realization of how close you were has you clearing your throat, scooting away from the man you so desperately wish to be closer with. 

He almost kissed you. You almost kissed him. He was there for you after a terrible date, with flowers and your favorite food. Which could mean nothing, and for the sake of your already aching heart, you tell yourself it does mean nothing. Because it was Rafayel and you were just, well, you. 

It was hard to quell your feelings after that night. It was harder for you to ignore how pretty Rafayel was, how charming his smile was and how well you and him got along. It was damn near impossible to ignore just how much you liked him. 

You tried to brush off his offhand comments, immediately deflecting and not allowing yourself the pleasure of entertaining the idea. This was Rafayel. The most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life, he was funny and kind and caring and he did not have a thing for you. 

“Hey cutie, what do you say we grab a bite after this?” He winks at you during an exhibition, you want to kill the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I can’t, sorry Rafayel,” you say simply, giving him a small smile and hoping he’d drop it. He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. 

“C'mon! We can go to the place you’ve been wanting to try! I saw your moments post about it,” he narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms and leaning forward. 

You take a small step back. Rafayel wants to grab you by your waist, he digs his fingers into the fabric of his shirt to stop himself. 

“I already have some food I have to finish up, maybe next time?” You smile nervously, palms already sweaty from how intently he was looking at you. His purple bangs falling gently across his forehead, you fight the urge to brush them out of his eyes. 

Rafayel only spoke to you again when parting ways after the exhibition, turning around and causing you to almost bump into his chest. 

“Y’know I’m here for you, right? Whenever you want for whatever you need,” the words catch you by surprise, making your heart thump louder in your ears as you smile at him. 

“O-okay thanks,” you reply, moving to walk past him, he grabs your wrist, staring at you like he was going to say more. He opens his mouth before closing it again, shoulders slumping and letting out a small sigh. He lets go of your wrist, savoring the way the warmth of your skin felt on his. “Let me know when you get home, Miss Bodyguard,” he smiles softly. 

“Okay,” you breathe out, eyes lingering on his lips for a second too long. You turn on your heel quickly, the mantra you’d always repeat to yourself when it came to Rafayel already looping in your mind. 

It probably means nothing. The look in his eyes wasn’t anything, it couldn’t be. Your heart tugs the further away from him you get, God, you wish it did. 

You decided you were going to be brave. After almost a year of debate, you were going to take a leap of faith. 

With shaky fingers you hover over the dial button, taking a deep breath before tapping your screen and putting the phone to your ear. It only rings once before you hear the same voice that always makes your stomach flip. 

“Well to what do I owe the honor of you calling me first, Miss Bodyguard?” Rafayel smirks on the other line, leaning back in his seat as he puts the phone on speaker, mindlessly twirling a paintbrush between his fingers. 

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to promise that you won’t judge me or laugh at me or- are you already giggling?” You furrow your brows, nerves slowly replaced by that familiar feeling of enamored frustration only Rafayel managed to bring out. 

“You can’t tell someone to not laugh at something, everyone knows that just makes them want to laugh,” he states, “but fiiine, I won’t laugh.” 

“Do piercings hurt a lot? I know you have a bunch and I’ve been wanting to get one forever and I’ve been so scared but I really want one.” You rush your words out, pacing around your living room before staring out your window and flopping backwards on your couch. 

“You thought I would laugh because you’re… scared to get a piercing?” Rafayel cocks his head slightly, pausing his movements as he sets his brush down, grabbing his phone and smiling softly. He can picture you already, your face is probably warm, nose scrunched and lips pouting as you look to your side in embarrassment, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well, yeah,” you mutter, nose scrunched and face hot as you stare away from your phone, as if he could see you through the camera. 

“What kind of piercing do you wanna get? The pain depends on the placement but also everyone’s pain tolerance is different.” He hears you hum on the other end of the line. 

“I wanted to get my nose pierced, is that lame?” Your face is hot, embarrassed to be so scared of something so many people did. 

“You’re gonna look great with it! It shouldn’t hurt too much, when are you gonna get it?” Rafayel has to take deep breaths as his imagination runs wild. The thought of you with your nose pierced, he closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to calm down as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I don’t know, I was kinda thinking of getting it soon, rip the band aid off,” you smile, sitting up from your position on the couch and checking the time. “Are you busy right now?” 

“I’m never busy when it comes to you,” Rafayel replies easily, wiping his paint stained hands on a nearby rag before standing up. 

“Do you think you could come with me? To get the piercing?” You’re covering half your face with one hand out of embarrassment. You’re fully prepared for him to laugh at you, say ‘hell no!’ and hang up on you. Okay, that might be a little extreme. 

“I’m already on my way, cutie,” he replies, you can hear the jingling of his keys before you let out a small, ‘okay’ and hang up. You stare at the floor for a moment, then a wide smile breaks onto your face. You break out into maniacal giggles, burying your face in your hands before biting your bottom lip. 

Rafayel knocks on your door in 15 minutes time, hair falling perfectly and cologne wafting into your senses the moment you open the door. You look up at him with a shy smile, having never noticed just how built the man was. He crowds your space as he leans against the door frame, smiling and holding his hand out for you to take. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, you nod, hesitantly putting your hand in his. You ignore the way your whole body reacts to the simple touch. You’re too in your head to notice the way his face goes red as his hand envelopes yours. 

Rafayel was enjoying this way too much for your liking, but you were too nervous to make any remarks as he walked into the piercing shop with your clammy hand in his. 

“Hey what can I help you guys with today?” The man asked, looking between the two of you, “matching tattoos maybe?” He grins, you can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Maybe next week, right cutie?” He chuckles when your eyes go wide and you elbow him. 

“I wanted to get a nose piercing,” you tell the man, and two consent forms later you’re seated in the piercing chair, fidgeting with your t-shirt nervously as you talk to Rafayel. 

“It’ll look good right? I won’t look stupid with it?” Rafayel smiles at you and nods. 

“You’re gonna look stunning, Miss Bodyguard,” he mumbles, walking from his position across the room to your side. “Who knows, you might even inspire me to paint more pieces about you.”

You smile at him, then the words process in your mind. “What do you mean ‘more’?”

“Alright! I’m gonna go ahead and mark where the piercing will go and let me know if you like the placement!” The piercer walks in, saving Rafayel from having to answer your question. Reluctantly you tear your gaze from him, smiling at the piercer and sitting still as she marks your nose and hands you a mirror to check. You nod in approval, handing the mirror back as she preps the area. 

Rafayel is staring at you intently, your heart is racing, fear coursing through your veins as the piercer turns to grab the needle. 

“Can you hold my hand?” You ask quietly, Rafayel all but jumps at the opportunity, intertwining your fingers with his, like he was always meant to be by your side. 

“Alright, you ready?” She asks and you nod, eyes focused on Rafayel’s pretty blue-pink ones. “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth for me.” You do as you're told, feeling slightly embarrassed by how sweaty your palm is against Rafayel’s.

“Deep breath,” he says softly, eyes glancing between your gaze and the needle, squeezing your hand as she punctures the cartilage. “Good girl,” Rafayel praises, thumb stroking the back of your hand in soothing circles as your eyes water slightly. You blink rapidly, a stray tear slipping out as they insert the small stud in place of the needle. 

“Alright you’re all done!” The piercer smiles at you, letting you know to head up front to pay. You thank her quickly, turning to Rafayel who still had a tight grip on your hand. 

“How do I look?” You smile at him. Rafayel doesn’t say anything for a second, eyes scanning your features as his thumb swipes the stray tear from your cheek. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, squeezing your hand before helping you out of the chair. He’s quick to beat you to the register, immediately handing the receptionist his card before you have the chance to protest. 

You’re too flustered by his compliment to fight back, opting instead to simply thank him as he places his card back in his wallet. Rafayel doesn’t say anything, his hand slotting back into yours. Both of your faces are burning hot, with neither of you addressing it until your hand leaves his as he holds the car door open for you. 

“That wasn’t as terrible as I thought it was gonna be!” You gush as Rafayel slips into the driver's seat. He watches from the corner of his eye the way you stare at your reflection in the sun visor mirror.

“You did a great job! My brave girl,” he says smoothly, left hand on the steering wheel and the other coming to squeeze your arm gently. Your body is on fire at the small contact, and you’re having a hard time rationalizing this into nothing. 

He holds your hand during your piercing, tells you he’s painted pieces inspired by you, that could mean nothing. But now he’s calling you his girl? Your mind is scrambling and you can only land on one conclusion. 

“Rafayel?” 

“Cutie?” He purrs back, he can all but see everything in your head clicking into place, his heart thumping against his chest as your gaze bores into your lap. 

“Do you like me?” You check to see if the passenger door is unlocked, in case he laughs in your face and you have to jump out of this moving vehicle. You think about the logistics of it, you’d most likely survive, mainly surface injuries, you’ve fought off hordes of wanderers, you could take jumping out of a car. What you couldn’t take, is the artist you’ve been crushing on for a year calling you delusional. 

“I thought that much was obvious, I’ve been flirting with you since I met you,” Rafayel lets out a deep chuckle, turning to look at you briefly. Your mouth is agape, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief.

“What?!” You shriek. Rafayel only laughs harder. 

“Did you think I just went around complimenting everybody? Calling people cutie and my muse?” Your silence makes Rafayel’s mouth drop. “Are you serious?!” He exclaims, parking the car in front of your apartment building before turning to face you fully. 

“I didn’t want to assume things! I just rationalized everything that happened,” you defended, “I just kept telling myself it meant nothing and you were just a flirty person!” 

“So when I gave you a key to my house?” 

“I’m your bodyguard so you gave it to me for security purposes,” you explained, and Rafayel had to hold back his laughter. 

“I told you there’s no one in my life that I’d want with me other than you, and that’s the conclusion you came to?” Your face burned as you tried (and failed) to defend yourself. “Okay and the time I told you that you were the reason I started painting with lighter tones and images of hope and love instead of despair?"

“You said that you did that after you met me, not that-” saying it out loud makes it seem obvious, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you realize the mental gymnastics you’d been doing all year. 

“I practically professed my love for you the night you got stood up, how did you rationalize that?” His head cocks slightly, a smug smirk on his face as he wonders what radical conclusion you’d landed on. 

“That you’d never have feelings like that for someone like me,” you shrug your shoulders, not daring to meet his eyes as you finally come clean. The true reason you’d brushed his every move off, the one thing driving the mantra you’d always told yourself. 

“Someone like you?” Rafayel repeats, his heart clenches at your words. He doesn’t say anything else, the restraint he had for the past year is thrown out the window as he reaches over the center console and angles your face towards him. 

“Do you like me?” Rafayel asks, his breathing erratic as he stares into your eyes. You give him a small nod, about to say something else before you’re cut off with his lips on yours. You tense for a moment, body catching up before your brain does as you melt into the kiss, hands weaving in the soft purple tresses at the nape of his neck. You whimper slightly when Rafayel pulls away and nips at your bottom lip. 

“Please tell me you can’t rationalize that,” he mumbles, you laugh, letting your head rest on his shoulder. 

“If I try hard enough-” Rafayel takes your face in one hand, lifting it up and kissing you once more, careful to not hit your freshly pierced nose. 

“I want you,” he mumbles against your lips, “you drive me crazy– you’re the only one I want– I want you all to myself, as my lover and as my everything,” he punctuates each statement between kisses, slowly turning rougher as you move in sync with him, tugging gently on his hair. 

When he pulls away, the only thing connecting the two of you is a string of saliva between your lips, which Rafayel quickly wipes with his thumb, licking it clean. You bite back a moan. 

“Am I clear enough now?” He smirks. You gulp, nodding. 

“Do you wanna- we should probably- come on let’s head inside,” you finally sputter out, quickly opening the car door and heading to your apartment. Rafayel is hot on your heels, relief filling his body when you turn around and shoot him a shy smile as you unlock your door. 

Rafayel crowds your space the rest of the day, kissing every inch of you, telling and showing you just how badly he’s been wanting you. He whispers sweet words to you as he brushes your hair out of face, his fingertips trace your sweaty skin, eyes staring at you like you were the most precious work of art ever created…. which could mean nothing. 

But you know better now.  It means the feelings you’d been shoving aside this whole time were reciprocated ten fold. It means he loves you, with every fiber of his being.

there were dozens of them. peaceful sketches of you asleep. sharp, dynamic lines of you during training. soft moments of you laughing. rough, playful doodles of you angry. he had catalouged every single emotion, every micro-expression, studying your features as if he were afraid the universe might try to erase you from his mind. 

a familiar smell of fresh ocean water and citrus wafted behind you.

“cutie?” his voice cut through the silence.

you turned, the sketchbook still in your hands. rafayel froze, his gaze darting from your face to the pages. he crossed the room in a few fluid strides, closing the distance between you two.

“snooping through my collection, aren’t ya?” he teased, booping your nose.

your face immediately warms. even with his playful front, you can still see the slight tension in his shoulders, the quiet vulnerability of an artist who had just been exposed.

“it was just laying here, practically calling me to come look,” you counter, your voice softened, affected by the weight of what you just saw. you look back down at the sketchbook, your thumb tracing the page where he captured you smiling. “how long have you been drawing these?”

he lets out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tilting his head as he feigned being deep in thought. “how long? probably since I first saw you,” he said casually. “it’s a medical condition at this point. my hands just move on their own.”

“so this is from the past year?” you ask.

“since I first saw you, cutie. not met you,” he smirked.

he steps closer, his chest brushing against your shoulder as he leans over to look at the book with you. he turned towards the beginning pages. “look at this one,” he murmured, his tone shifting from playful to entirely fascinated.

he stops on the sharp, ink filled page of you in your combat gear. your expression was fierce and unyielding. you recall it being the first time you and rafayel fought a wanderer together. 

“you always look so serious when you’re focused. I think that lemon guy was intimidated,” he said. “although, you make that same face when you’re trying to build legos.”

he turns to the next page. sure enough, you’re making the same face. but this time, your hands held small plastic blocks rather than a weapon. you giggled at the sight.

“is there one you haven’t drawn? you practically have everything in here,” you said, flipping through the pages.

rafayel’s gaze darkened, his hands coming up to find your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“there is one…” he said softly. “one I haven’t been able to get right.”

a shiver went down your spine as he pressed his front against your back, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. “what is it?” you asked, breathless.

“I haven’t been able to capture your face when you’re in pure bliss,” he murmured. “I always get…carried away.”

the implications that hung in the air caused your panties to dampen.

“maybe you just need a live model,” you offered.

that’s how you found yourself spread out on the couch, naked, while rafayel sat in front of you, sketchbook on his lap.

“you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” you teased.

rafayel chuckled, his hand brushing against your inner thigh. “you’re my only girl,” he said softly. 

his fingers brushed between your folds, pressing gently against your clit. you sucked in a breath, face contorting in pleasure. the sound of charcoal against paper began to fill your ears.

“you’re a beautiful model, cutie,” he whispered, his finger dipping into your cunt. he thrusted in and out slowly, curving just right to brush against your spongey walls. 

you moaned, your legs spreading wider for him, hips thrusting against his hand. your eyes were glazed over and hazy, drunk with pleasure. “m-more,” you whined, reaching out to tightly hold his wrist.

he didn’t pull back. instead, he slid another finger in as his thumb rubbed your clit. Rafayel’s gaze remained locked onto your face, tracking every twitch of your lips and every flutter of your eyelids. he barely looked down as his other hand moved with masterful precision against the sketchbook, perfectly capturing the exact moment you unraveled for him.

“g-gonna..!” your voice cracked as your body spasmed. a gush of cum drenched rafayel’s hand as he stroked you through your high.

your body slumped against the cushions as he signed his sketch.

“I think I’m gonna need one more,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “you make a different face when it’s my cock.”

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

It was never your fault. It was always his problem to solve, his weight to bear, his living nightmare. It was your peace, your safety, your ease of life. So, you were injured because he failed to step up. Emergency extraction was called in because he allowed you to nearly die. 

Thankfully, medical was able to fix you up. They always were, but that didn’t lessen the wave of relief that washed over you when the agony died down to a dull ache or when the feeling of unnatural ichor drying on your open, exposed flesh was replaced with the warm comfort of being sealed in a protective layer of stitched-closed skin. 

The only thing medical couldn’t fix was the way Leon seemed to watch you. Or, rather, try not to. He was always nearby, always a dry, cracking shout away from rushing to your side and doing anything you asked. But you awoke on the day of your discharge utterly alone. Busy, they’d said he was, when you asked about his whereabouts. And then in the days of your confinement to office work, he didn’t avoid you per se, but he avoided eye contact. His lips were stiff, jerky, as though there was a war of words within him that he couldn’t let loose. 

Leon never wanted you to worry, but he did a damn good job of making you do it anyway.

“Leon,” you called with a finality that left no room for escape. You entered his office with a soft knock on the doorframe as you passed through. Sitting stiffly at his desk, he looked up from the folder in his hands, then back down. 

You took a seat in the cheap, basic chair across from him. He’d never bothered to decorate or switch up anything about his office; he didn’t feel the need to. All of the furniture was the same as what was in it when he was assigned to the room, positioned in the same spots. There were hardly any personal items and the room was rather barren and cold compared to those of other agents. Many tried to lighten up the spaces they worked in to alleviate some of the darkness that crept in through the cracks left by the horrifying encounters of the job, but not Leon. He had a framed photo of you and one of Sherry on his desk. Not much else other than personal effects that came and went with him. The empty, openness of the room somehow felt suffocating. 

“What’s on your mind?” You poked tentatively. You’d come to check-in on him, but now you weren’t sure how to. Whatever it was that had him behaving oddly, you could tell it had something to do with you—a thought that made your insides squirm with apprehension. He wouldn’t have left you in medical to check out alone (even though you’re more than capable of doing so) or hardly interact with you in the office (even though you did benefit from not distracting each other lately) unless there was a real issue. He was your best friend, had been since school. He wasn’t the best at communicating, especially when it came to true feelings, but his avoidance was worrisome. 

He glanced up from the file in his hands, face already creased into a frown. “Nothing.” Your head fell into a you-and-I-both-know-better tilt, and he, as you knew he would, averted his gaze after an uncomfortable moment of eye contact. The obvious tell of a lie. “I’m just looking at some of the newer agents’ reports. I don’t have much better to do right now, so I think they’re expecting me to grade them or something.” He huffed. This was one of the many things on his list of least favorite things about the job. 

“Leon, you’re avoiding me.” He turned a few pages, looking for a report that didn’t exist so he wouldn’t have to look at you. He frowned.

“I’m not.” You sighed, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. It creaked slightly, the flimsy plastic back bending ever so slightly. 

“Leon,” you started softly. His eyes flitted from the papers to you with trepidation. This was not a pleasant tone, this was a warning. Your voice promised to find the root of this, and he swallowed thickly. “If you weren’t avoiding me, you would have been in my office this morning complaining about how I made you look bad by finishing my report before you despite being hospitalized. You came in to give me a coffee, told me not to overexert myself, and left. You watch me out of the corner of your eye when you think I won’t catch you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t hide anything from me, and it’s weird that you feel the need to.”

“That’s rich.” He tossed the folder onto the mostly-bare desk. He didn’t exactly radiate confidence, but he wasn’t dodging the conversation anymore. If there was one thing Leon Kennedy could do, it was get through something he would rather die than attempt. 

Your eyes narrowed. Your heart beat quickened and your mind sifted through every possibility of what he could be referring to.

“What do you mean?” 

His eyes dimmed—or maybe you just imagined it. You could see every line, blemish, and shadow that the past had left on his face, you knew them by heart, but the wrinkles between his brows were not from the aging of stress. There was a pain within him that somehow reached out to pierce you without escaping its disguised confines. 

“I checked your medical report while you were out cold. I had to make sure you were going to wake up,” he added with a half smile that you mirrored absent-mindedly. He shifted in his seat. “You—your history—” He cut himself off, staring at the corner of his desk where you’d once chipped the wood by setting down some equipment less-than-carefully. You’d both had a laugh at it then, and sometimes when he felt antsy he’d run his thumb along the exposed fibers and think about your laugh; how lucky he was that he still got to hear it after everything the two of you had been through. After everything else was taken from him. 

He didn’t know how to say it, but he didn’t know what else he could say. The silence was deafening. You looked at him with such an intense concentration that he thought he could see your heart pounding in your eyes. He sighed, running a hand down his face roughly. His attention locked back on you and he took a deep breath, speaking before he could lose the will to get the words out. 

“You’re a BOW.” 

Right. Of course. How could you forget?

The immaterial blow knocked the air from your lungs. Your lips parted subtly. If you were tense and nervous before, you were completely and utterly falling apart inside now. You remained calm outwardly. It had been trained into you. But it didn’t stop the welling of tears in your eyes.

You knew exactly what this meant. This meant a part of you, something you’d kept locked away tightly for even you to forget most days, had been laid bare for him to stumble upon himself. Your words, your conditions and terms on which to tell him faded from view. There would never be another opportunity, another chance, to tell him the way you wanted him to know.

He’d seen it in the cold, unfeeling, cruelty of medical terminology. 

“I am,” you finally replied, voice firm and stronger than you’d expected, though your lip wobbled once the words were out. Hearing them made it all real. Inescapable. The muscles in Leon’s jaw flexed. You’d seen it a million times, but it never felt like this. 

“It was listed with your baseline, pre-STRATCOM information, so why—all this time? You never once tried to tell me something so integral to who you are, and you’ve been keeping that this whole time?

“I just—I don’t understand how you could keep that from me. Or why. I have so many questions and I think half of me doesn’t want to know any more than I already do.” You nodded. It was all you could do. 

He looked at you, really looked, like he could figure it all out with his eyes. You wondered if he was looking for clues he’d missed, or mutations that would be obvious now that he knew. Whatever he was looking for, he wouldn’t find it. 

“I was going to tell you.” 

“Oh yeah? When?” Your hands balled into fists in your lap. 

“I—it’s not that easy, Leon. You wouldn’t have believed me. Not back when we didn’t know the half of this bioorganic warfare we were unknowingly caught up in. I was… I was going to tell you but then there was Raccoon City”—he ducked his head—”and there was already so much on your plate. How could I live with myself knowing I made it all worse? Not to mention how you’d just discovered what a BOW even was, and you’d—you’d be disgusted with me. You’d put a bullet in my head without a second thought.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed quietly after a tense pause. 

Red rimmed his eyes. Leon never cried. He hadn’t in a long time, and sometimes when you couldn’t sleep you’d sit alone in bed and wonder if it was something he’d conditioned himself to do—among other worries. There was no shortage of concern for him. 

“Then what? Why couldn’t you come to me with something that was obviously distressing you?” Your palms stung from your nails digging relentlessly into the skin. 

“It wasn’t you, Leon—”

“Bullshit—”

“—After Raccoon City it was all the same. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t put that on you. And… yeah. I was scared. Scared what you’d think of me, that you’d see me as some fucking monster that should have been left in NEST. That I was the very thing the government sent the missiles to cover up.” 

When you stopped your raving, allowing him time to speak, he stayed still. His silence tore out your heart from the inside. Yelling, insulting, anything tangible can be absorbed; it’s been trained into you. You can handle anything that gets thrown at you. It’s the waiting, the empty time and space that burrows into the crevices and pulls your reflexes taught. 

Leon sat in his chair, unmoving, face unchanged. The same blank, neutral look you’d seen in debriefs and assignment meetings. He was analyzing you, he had to be. Calculating your strengths and weaknesses, deciphering your risk level. Thinking like an agent. 

“So,” you continued, quieter this time, “after a while, the fear got buried under the pressure of training, and we were still processing so much, or trying the best we could with everything new they were throwing at us. I just couldn’t do it, Leon. I couldn’t tell you how much I share with—with all those things that took your future from you.

“And after so long of not saying anything, it just… disappeared. I forgot about it. Sometimes I’d remember—when it was impossible to ignore—and I’d feel hopeless because it all felt like it was too late. I couldn’t tell you anymore because how would I”—you gestured around the room, stirring up the stagnant, strain-laden air—”how does someone do this, Leon? How do you tell someone something you’ve kept to yourself for most of your friendship?”

Leon couldn't answer. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. He didn’t know what he felt. You nodded. 

“So I decided it was better to forget. I wouldn’t tell you because if I did, this would happen. And besides,” you chuckled hollowly, “if you hadn’t figured it out yet, then it couldn’t be that important, right? If it was a big deal you would’ve noticed, but you didn’t, so just never telling you wouldn't change anything.” You shrugged. “Guess I miscalculated.”

The office settled. Nothing moved save for the rising and falling of two breathing bodies. You had half a mind to go, but you needed to hear it. You couldn’t move until he told you to leave. Or to stay, a tiny part of you whispered, on its last breath. 

“I don’t…” he trailed off. His eyes lingered on the label of the file before him. “I can’t hate you for something that’s out of your control. I know you didn’t ask for it.” A hand ran through his hair anxiously. “I just—I wish you wouldn’t keep things like this from me and then tell me that we’re too close to hide from each other.” You shook your head as the office blurred. 

“You have every reason to hate me.” 

“Maybe a few reasons. But I don’t.” 

He rose to his feet, making his way around the desk to you. He beckoned you up to stand and pulled you into his chest, holding you close and warm against him. He could hear your heart beat and faintly feel your breaths. That made you human enough. A monster wouldn’t feel what you felt or cry into his shirt like you did. 

“You aren’t—you’re not one of them. You’re a government agent, you wouldn’t be trusted as much as you are if you were a threat or a danger.” A sob sent you hiccuping against his chest. His arms secured you, not restrictive but tight enough to ground you and remind you that he was still there and not making plans to disappear. “I can’t tell you that nothing is different, because it is. But you’re…” 

Leon had never been particularly good with words. He spoke more with actions, in the way he used to bring you an extra snack in school, or help you move in and out of dorms and apartments, or take the fall for you when you didn’t meet the STRATCOM trainers’ ridiculous standards, or—well, he was always doing something to show how much you meant to him. But when it came down to it, when you trusted your ears over your eyes, he could do it for you. He could tell you what you needed to hear, even if he wasn’t confident that he could make the words come out right. 

“You’re worth the trouble. You’re too important to me to throw away over something you thought you had to carry alone.”

● Like I said, he'd talk you through it. He loves talking to you through intimacy, and he doesn't even need you to reply.

​"Tell me what you need. Speak up, let me hear it."

​"Look at me. You're doing perfect."

​"Yeah? You like that? Thought you said you weren't going to let me win that easily."

​"Can't even find your words right now, hm? That's a first for you."

● He doesn't let you cover your face or hide in general. He'd say something like, "Don't hide from me now. I want to see exactly how you look when I touch you like this"

● He gets into this weird habit of treating your body parts like separate entities. If he’s trying to move your legs, he won't look at your face. He’ll tap your knee gently, and murmur a very dry, barely audible, "'scuse me..." as if he's politely asking a stranger on a crowded sidewalk to step aside.

● When you're in control, again, he doesn't shut up. He wants you to know that he completely trusts you to hold all the weight for a while.

​"You look absolutely incredible looking down at me like that..."

​"You have no idea what you do to me."

​"Guide my hands... where do you want them?"

● If you were into degradation, he'd be willing to try it with you. He usually doesn't force his words. They just come out naturally, which makes them 10× more effective. But, I don't think he'd be into anything extremely mocking or degrading. Just a very average amount, I feel like.

"Look at how worked up you get just from me looking at you. You really are pathetic for me, sweetheart."

"Look at you, barely able to keep your eyes open and chasing after my hand like a needy little thing. You really can't help yourself, can you?"

● He constantly narrates exactly how you're reacting to him. He isn't guessing how you feel, he's actively reading your body language like a map and reflecting it back to you.

"Oh, so now you're being shy? Pretty sure it's a bit late for that, sweetheart."

​"You always turn your face away right when you get flustered. Don't do that. Let me look at you."

​"Every time I slow down, you completely shift to match me. Look at how you're leaning into it, sweetheart. You're letting me guide your entire pace right now."

● He loves really lazy morning sex, and it's when he's at his most vulnerable. It's a certain point in his day where he's not performing or being a protector for anyone, and his most honest, unguarded words come out.

"I love you so much. More than you'll ever know. I can't even put it into words."

"You're so fucking perfect. I don't understand it."

"You've saved me in so many ways just by existing. I don't know what I'd do without you."

● If you were ever insecure about any part of your body during intimacy, he shuts it down immediately. Not just to make you feel better, but because he's genuinely confused at your feelings as he loves that part of you so much. He doesn't just say "you're beautiful" or just tells you that he loves that part of you. He makes you feel genuinely worth.

"There isn't a single version of you that isn't completely worth having, through every single flaw and every good day."

​"Hey. Look at me. You're way too hard on yourself. You don't have to be flawless to be incredible and sexy, which you are, you know?"

​"Don't hide from me. Please."

● He loves talking to you during sex, as you know very well, but sometimes he gets so caught up in the pleasure that he stops for a bit, and all you're left with are his groans and moans and occasional whimpers when he really likes something you do. The only words that escape him when he gets like that are breathless curses or your name when he gasps it like a lifeline. Sometimes followed by the occasional, ragged "please," whether you're in control or not. It just escapes him every single time.