a/n: this was technically a request, but I've had this WIP planned since I started the anime, so thank you @icedlemonlatte for giving me an excuse to write it!<3
Words: 4.5k
CW: Jinshi x Fem!Reader - Minors DNI - (reader insert but written with some of Maomao's personality and background in mind) Aphrodisiacs, sub!jinshi, praise kink, mouth spitting, dry humping, unprotected sex
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“Master Jinshi requests your presence.” Gaoshun’s calm voice captures your attention. He's standing in the doorway with his usual stance, arms folded and back straight, but there was a minute anxiety in his brow you had almost written off as a trick of the flickering candlelight. A weary sigh leaves your lips while lifting a hand to pinch at the stress pulsing deep in your sinuses. A needy one, Master Jinshi was. Always nipping at your heels when he wasn’t charming the court ladies.
“What does he need now? I’ve had a long day.”
“I understand.” Gaoshun bows to signal his apologies at the intrusion so late into the night. “But you see, Master Jinshi is unwell, and well…” A bead of sweat rolls over his temple while ruminating which words to use since the current situation required the utmost care of confidentiality for a man of his stature, but the growing silence only annoys you further. You’ve become well accustomed to Master Gaoshun and have therefore chosen to abandon decorum.
“Please, just spit it out.”
Master Gaoshun’s back stands at attention. “It’s an emergency. I’m unsure how– uh, long he will last through the night. We need our apothecary.”
Gaoshuns buttering did convince you, just a little, since he always treated you with respect as if you weren’t of inferior birth– someone as lowly as a simple maid-turned-apothecary in the Rear Court, but you also knew that it would be easier to see Master Jinshi and corral him back into place so you may finally get a moment's reprieve. So, with reluctance, you agree. Before you know it, a carriage brings you to Master Jinshis home within the Inner Palace.
In hindsight, you should have been suspicious with the way you were rushed out of the carriage and ushered inside. It would have been an even greater sign to be wary of the way Suiren was seemingly absent, since she was an omnipresent force within his home. And more than that, the quickened apology muttered from Gaoshun before he scurried off should of been the biggest waving red flag of them all, but your habit of ignoring warnings and cautions in favor of the ‘not my business’ attitude you so stubbornly held onto had you staring at the large doubles doors in front of you with nary an alarm bell.
“Alright…” You mutter with a deep sigh to collect yourself before pushing the heavy doors open, revealing… nothing.
Suspicious eyes flit around the room, toeing past the threshold with cautious steps. There’s a tangible shift in the atmosphere that you’re not exactly too eager to place, but it feels heavy, thick with an unnamed feeling that clings to your back and crawls up your neck. The sound of hushed whimpers alert you, shifting yourself to look at the large wooden canopy bed. There’s a nagging voice echoing in your head to turn around, to pretend you didn’t hear anything and inform Gaoshun that Master Jinshi wasn’t on premises and go about your night to save yourself the headache… Although, if you didn’t do your due diligence as a newly-appointed apothecary for someone as important as Master Jinshi, it could result in never having a headache again… because it could very well be detached from your body. A puff of annoyed air leaves your lungs as you turn around to peek past the wooden walls to investigate.
The sight that greets you was one you shouldn’t have seen. Master Jinshi was halfway disrobed, sweaty, and flushed. His broad chest, usually hidden away by layers of fine robing, was on display, glistening with a sheer gleam of sweat, and his chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. His hair, which was normally pulled back into a neat silken half bun, was now spilling over the pillows in dismay while the shorter plum colored silk strands clung to his forehead. Was it poison? What poisons had this sort of effect? It was apparent his heart rate was elevated, and while he showed signs of labored breathing, he had no indication of nausea, sunken skink, or–
“A-apothecary–” Jinshi’s strained voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts. “You need… you need to leave at once–”
He immediately shifts his body and coils away from you. It’s curious how the muscles in his back flex and bow, he’s extremely well built for a eunuch. In fact, now that you think about it. There were many curious things about him that didn’t quite fit for a typical eunuch, perhaps you shouldn’t delve too far into that. So you will thought away by shaking your head, focusing more on the task at hand. Your knee comes up to climb into the large bedded space, but as if Jinshi is hyper-aware of his surroundings, he flinches and curls further into his defensive fetal position.
“I said go away! Please.” A pregnant pause fills the enclosed oaken space. “...For your safety. Please, just take your leave.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, whatever illness had befallen him must have been serious.
There was a sliver of concern that started creeping into your bones and settling into your lip, subconsciously you took the soft flesh of your bottom lip in between your teeth, gnawing idly to soothe your worry and focus on whittling down any remedies he may need. With a hesitant hand, you bring it forward to attempt to soothe him, but a speed at which he turns over and clasps it with urgency startles you. Somehow, in the blink of an eye he was looming above, you could feel your quickened pulse under his strong fingertips.
“I don’t know if I could hold myself back any longer.” Jinshi brings your palm to rest onto his cheek, his shoulders rise with the deep breath he takes and leans into the touch. His skin is hot, burning even. And you saw a flash of his eyes, even if they were hidden coyly underneath the long lashes that kissed the apples of his cheeks; his pupils were blown wide, a void of hunger that overtook and swallowed aubergine irises until they were all but a sliver. Everything began adding up, quick calculations of everything that transpired in the past few minutes pointed to the worst case scenario:
Master Jinshi was under the effects of an aphrodisiac– a powerful one at that.
But that begged a question: Could eunuchs be subject to aphrodisiacs? It was a peculiar situation; the effects hadn’t really been studied before, and since they were missing the main component of sex, it now opened a floodgate that poured in a hundred new questions of how sex and attraction– the very human component of it, actually worked. Did it reside in the brain? Hormones? And even so, how would a eunuch satisfy the desire? With missing parts, would they simply whither and succumb to it? What could possibly be the cure?
What fortuitous opportunity for research, you think–
“Apothecary.”
You jump at his strained voice. Shit. You had gotten too caught up in treating him like a lab rat, and you were here to do a job, although the nature of his situation changed everything. There wasn’t a cure-all for aphrodisiacs, at least one hasn’t been discovered yet.
Jinshi collapses onto your torso and wraps his arms around your waist, tightening his arms and locking you into a vice grip, like he was holding onto the last thread of self control. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and mutters something.
“...What’s that?”
“I said,” Jinshi angles his face so his lips are unobstructed. “You always look at me like I’m some little bug.”
Whoops. Were you really so awful at managing your expressions? You remember when Gaoshun had a little talk about it with you, you had really thought you got better about it.
“I like it.” He admits while his back rolls upwards.
Okay– you think, while attempting to writhe out of his grasp. He’s been handy before, but this has been quite enough intimate proximity to him to last a lifetime.
“Alright Master Jin–” You’re interrupted by his heavy body weight pressing further into your lungs, the dead weight pinned your limbs into the firm mattress below.
“Please.” He begs.
You continue trying to writhe out of his grasp while he keeps whispering apologies into your chest, but making no move to rectify himself. It’s as if his body is moving on his own; as if he knows what he’s doing is wrong and wishes he could control himself. In the struggle, limbs are lost in the fight for dominance, he apologizes when he catches your wrists and pins them down, using his leg to press in between your own to pin you down, and in that struggle you feel something hard and decently sized pressing against your core.
“Wh-”
“I-I’m sorry!” Jinshi is panicked. Salt brine spills from over his lashes as he buries his face further into you ashamed. “I- I never meant… for you to find out this way.”
Time suspends momentarily, and suddenly every spare and seemingly out of place puzzle piece falls into place. Have you really been so blind? No, you were willfully ignorant and you knew it, but now that the truth was so blatantly in your face, or rather pressed in between your thighs. The once silent alarm bells begin to ring, just a little too late. Just how the hell is he allowed into the Rear Palace? And just who is Master Jinshi? The nature of his identity didn’t open a jar of worms, it dug out the entire garden and plucked every unsavory bug from the soil and thrust it into the burning sunlight.
Jinshi knew he fucked up, he knew you were tasked with making the high-ranking concubine Gyokyu aphrodisiacs for her little visit with the emperor. His mischievous nature would always be the end of him, giving nary a thought as he plucked a small treat from the bag before they were delivered. He had severely underestimated how powerful they would be, all he wanted was to feel a little needy and send for you. He had no ill intentions, he simply wanted to capture your attention since it was so hard to come by. Every lady in court ould fawn over him, but never you. Not the Apothecary who would cast a venomous glance toward him, it sent a shiver down his spine. He just wanted an excuse to see it again, and his wish was granted tenfold.
His body wracked with need, the room boiled, his heart begged for freedom, beating wildly against its cage. Panic flooded his nervous system, freezing ice crystals spreading down his veins as time passed. Stupid, stupid– he repeats the scalding mantra to himself. He could feel his control slipping away with each passing second, and he was terrified what would happen when he saw you. And when he finally did, his limbs became their own, reaching for solace despite his mind screaming for mercy.
It was tortuous to be held prisoner within his own body. Every nerve under his skin was a blazing torch alight with urgency. And now you were pressed against him, your scent dancing around his nose, your heat blanketing him while he feels your heartbeat against his own in rhythm. He knew then, he would throw everything away just to have a taste, he would do so gladly even if it meant living a life without you.
“Please. Just for tonight. Just this once.” His plea was a hushed whisper against your skin.
This wasn’t normal for him, you think back to his usual fleeting and aloof demeanor around the palace walls, there was no sign of this in sight. He was stripped bare and flayed to the bone in his most vulnerable state. It twisted something in you, whether it was pity or affection– you decided not to place. But who were you to deny him? You were brought here to take care of him after all. And while your chastity was intact, you were no stranger to sex and intimacy, growing up around a brothel. All your sisters were well known and highly sought after courtesans, and they taught you all the tricks and trades of the career despite being younger. It came with the times and life you were born into, even though you preferred to have your nose buried in research books and poisonous herbs rather than a man's pelvis. Still, you knew a thing or two to satiate him.
So, after a not so careful consideration, you supply your answer:
“Alright.”
He’s on you in an instant, his weight pressing you further into the mattress as his lips press against your neck in urgency. Whatever gratitudes that spilled from his lips were lost against the surface of your skin, and as much as you didn’t care for his antics you would be hard pressed to say you weren’t enjoying his praise and the way he crumbled against you. It felt good. Living a simple life while watching luxury and power from a far distance was the normal, but to taste a sample of it being reversed into your favor prickled your skin in a delightful way, it stoked your ego as bellow against a roaring hearth would ignite the white hot coals. While the iron was hot you struck, hooking your leg around his hip and using momentum to your advantage, Jinshi whimpers as he’s pinned against the mattress. You bring your knee to rest in between his thighs and press into his bulge, your hands grip his wrists at the side of his head.
“You want it so bad, then stay still and be good.”
Jinshi’s fingers twitch, feeling the tendons beneath his wrist fex under your finger tips and he moans. His hips involuntarily roll as they search for relief, which is quickly chastised by the way you press your knee further into his crotch.
“What did I just say?” You ask with a little venom behind your inquisition, as if you were scolding a petulant child.
“Stay- stay still and…” He moves his face away and stares at the wall in shame. “And be good.”
“That's right, so you do have a brain underneath all that silky hair. That’s good.” Perhaps you were being a little harsh as you lifted your robes and climbed into his lap, but he did always seem to have a knack for being told what to do, even if he pretended otherwise.
With your robes pooled around your hips you settle onto his pelvis, feeling the way his length twitched under your heat. Damn, if that doesn’t feel kind of good…
Your eyes fall closed for a moment as you breathe slowly, collecting yourself and recalling the advice your sisters had given so long ago before lifting your hips and pressing, dragging your clothed core against his hard length. And then again, again, the motions soon coming as naturally as the seas waves against shore. Jinshi’s hands fly and make a landing onto your hips, his fingertips making divots into your flesh with the strength of his grip to ground himself.
“Y-yes, please, m-more, please.” His warm breath fans against your chest as your chest lowers, anchoring yourself with a palm splayed next to his hand on the mattress. “Feels so good.” Jinshi continues to babble in a sweaty haze, his praises while welcome, were a bit foreign and overloaded your brain. Between him and the thick atmosphere in the room you began to feel dizzy as well, frustrated at feeling like you were losing a little bit of control. You snatch your hair ribbon and let the loose strands fall free as you quickly loop it around the back of his head and tie a neat little bow in between his lips. Cute.
You lean back to appreciate your work, it wasn’t like anyone was around to see you gawk anyway. But damn, his flushed skin and soft hair spilling over the pillows and the way his brows scrunched in pleasure was a sight to behold. One that would start wars, even. Intrigued eyes rake down his form, landing on his broad chest that was still partially hidden by his robes, and slowly, you bring your palms to feel his breathing, noticing the way he flinches and whimpers under your touch. The way his chest shakes with ragged breaths as you spread your palms away and push the remaining fabric to undress him makes you grin deviously before raking your nails back across and taking his blushed nipples in between your fingertips to pinch and roll them in tandem.
“Hnnnggg!” Jinshi’s cry is muffled by the fabric taken between his teeth, his hips buck hard enough to feel the blunt head of his cock press into your clit and now you’re the one that has to bite back a sound.
Jinshi’s fingertips dig deeper into your hips, and with another whine there's a wordless question reflected in his watery eyes and worried brow. He’s begging, pleading, to feel all of you against him. You tsk at his beseeching but nevertheless raise your hips up to undress, nearly snorting at the eager squeal that leaves his throat.
The thing about Jinshi was that he seemed easy to read. A flirtatious, aloof, eunuch that enjoyed his charm and had a distaste for serious work. Oftentimes you could find him in tow with Gaoshun walking around the rear palace, leaving the various ladies fawning and fainting behind the long amethyst hair that trailed behind him. It was easy to be irritated by such a man, one who was of higher birth than yourself, but as you spent more time with him, the facade had slowly cracked away. Granted, his boastful and carefree outlook still made your skin crawl, but you can’t help but recall times where you spent time together and you got to know him deeper, and start to piece together his true nature. Even if you spackled and patched the wall that crumbled day by day, it was still easy to see that at the core of it all, the two of you were basically the same; trying to find your place in the world, and if allowed, to find a sliver of peace in it.
And right now, the way he’s been looking at you feels as if you were the very oasis at the end of a long and jaded journey. It’s just the effects of the aphrodisiac, you barter, attempting to talk yourself down from the ledge of such dangerous thoughts. But then you recall the same look from past times, on the road with him, late at night when you crossed paths and no one was around. A soft, comforting thumb touches your cheek, dispelling the cloud of thoughts swirling above, it’s Jinshi, reaching out with a question in his gaze. It’s warm, comforting, as if he’s asking if everything is alright, as if he needs to know if you want this as much as he does.
A smile graces your lips, one you’re unaware is displayed. You lean down to untie the ribbon, perhaps it’s an olive branch, perhaps it’s pity. You don't dwell on it.
“You want to feel good?” You begin to lower yourself onto his hard cock, wincing at the pressure as you sink deeper. Soothing circles are rubbed into your side, momentarily distracting you from the stretch that began to sting at the intrusion.
Jinshi himself is holding himself together at the seams, biting his lip so his fingers wouldn't bruise you. His eyes roll into the abc of his head in bliss while he mutters ‘yes, please, please.’
Your back arches, head falling back and taking a breath, eyes falling closed while you center yourself and adjust to his size. What a sight to behold from below, Jinshi himself feels like he’s died and seen the afterlife. The way your breasts sit on your chest, the curves and lines of your arms that anchor yourself as you’re sheathed on him, like you’re one soul melding together. He’s dreamed of this often, and if it’s another dream he hopes he’ll never wake up.
“Then make me feel good, then you can kiss me.”
Leaning over to trace the curve of his jaw, your fingers make way to thread themselves into his hair, wrapping the fine silk around your fingertips until they hit his scalp. His mouth falls open silently before finally moaning when you give him a firm tug while rolling your hips, riding him until tears prick the corners of his eyes. It feels divine.
“Open your mouth.” Your demand is firm, but soothed by a gentle thumb tracing his bottom lip, and he complies eagerly. You lean in close, just a breadth above his lips, and let a long trail of spit fall into his mouth, and he bucks his hips and swallows it greedily, groaning at the sweet taste.
“Good boy.” Your praise ignites him further, he plants his heels into the mattress to raise his hips and meet your rhythm to hit your sweet spot.
The resolve you held began to slip away with each thrust, your nails dug further into him and broke his skin, as if you were trying to hold onto the control you felt slipping away.
“Fuck.”
He swears he could almost blow his entire load right there on the spot, watching you begin to come undone onto him, he’s the one making you feel this good, and the way your walls are squeezing him tight has him begging for mercy, but he wants nothing more than to seize the opportunity you’ve graced him with. He would let his body break apart and put himself back together once more to hear you scream his name.
Blissful moans filled the enclosed space until the last drops of candlelight burned and spilled hot wax over the table. Limbs tangled with silk sheets as your heartbeats synched while your bodies writhed against each other, with only the salt of sweat and musk of sex filling your senses. When you finally screamed his name and collapsed on him he gave mercy, just for a beat.
“You said I could kiss you if I made you feel good…” Jinshi mutters in between your breasts while pressing saccharine sweet kisses to your skin. All you can provide is a weary nod in agreement.
His frame cages you underneath him, his back arched as he leans closer to brush his nose with yours, while the warmth from his palm sears into your thigh. His fingers are splayed wide to claim as much of your flesh as they can, running them underside your thigh to guide it up and secure it over his hip, effectively pressing himself deeper into you. He’s lost in you; your touch, your scent, the sound of your breath.
“Like this?” He whispers above your lips, giving a firm squeeze to your thigh while pressing his cock harder so his pelvis brushes your clit. He makes no further move, but observes with a watchful gaze as your lips fall open and eyes flutter. God, does he want to do it again, to burn the image of your delirium into his eyelids so he could see it every moment his eyes were closed.
Your hands roam the expanse of his back, it was a useless attempt to gain your bearings in the thick blanket of bliss that suffocated the both of you, and when he whispered gentle questions begging for an answer, you looked into his lidded gaze and muttered a pleading ‘yes.’
That single word was all he needed before his lips crashed into yours, tongue darting out to drag against your lips begging for permission to part them and take you whole. You can feel his arms release your limbs and wrap underneath your shoulder to pull you close, feeling the breath knocked from your lungs as he lets his full body weight collapse onto you while his hips begin to piston desperately and chase his second high.
Every part of Jinshi is melting into you, you’re surrounded by the storm of his need and all you can do is surrender. And you know what? It felt divine. Your entire life was set by the pace of caution, to always look over your shoulder and take care of yourself, you had spent the night desperately clinging to your control, and now that the threads that bound yourself to such responsibility were snapped and fell past your limbs it felt like you were able to take flight. His lips kissed every inch they could find, his hands caressed every dip and curve as if he wanted to memorize every freckle and bone, and honeyed words of devotion spilled from his lips until they coated your body in sickly sweet tar.
Praise left your throat before you could catch the words; butterflies that had flown free from it’s net:
“So good, Master Jinshi. So, so good.”
The words trailed fire along his back, standing every hair at attention; your attention, and his rhythm faltered, becoming sloppy and desperate to bring you both to the mountain's edge. A sharp pain resounds from your neck and travels down your spine before pooling into your abdomen and sloshing into pleasure. The source was his teeth, clamping onto your pulse point while he continued pistoning his cock against the spongy spot nestled into your core. He was dangerously close, only using the feeling of your pussy clenching around him to hold out strong and push himself to the end to take you with him.
He brings a hand around the small of your back to angle your hips upwards, allowing the new angle to grind against your clit with his thrusting in a last ditch effort to hasten your peak. And with each movement, the coil wound tight in your belly snaps; blinding white light fills your vision as the free fall begins. Pleasure rips from your throats in perfect cadence to one another as the pace slows with the shared decent, shaking limbs and lips dance with each other as Jinshi gives one, two, three last hard thrusts, cherishing the little squeaks that beg mercy before he rolls over and pulls you into his side.
He presses one last kiss into your hairline.
“I said just for tonight, but the sun hasn’t risen yet. So you have to stay with me tonight.”
His arms tighten around you in possession, although his words carry a bite that matches his usual demeanor, there's a tone hidden underneath that begs a question, a plea. He didn’t want to let you go just yet. And instead of questioning the implications, you simply let sleep sprinkle its sand into your eyes, and feel his breath against your own. Whatever came with the sun would be dealt with then.
when the boy who always calls you "angel" refuses to admit his feelings, you're left with no choice but to say yes to someone else—forcing him to realize too late that losing you was never part of the game.
starring. nagi seishiro x fem!reader ft. mikage reo
genre: fluff, romance, mild angst, cupid!reo, reo is stressed, nagi's so dense
wc: 10.3k
You first met Nagi Seishiro through your best friend, Mikage Reo — Hakuho High School’s golden boy.
If there was anyone who could juggle soccer captaincy, straight A’s, an overflowing social life, and still find time to tease you before homeroom, it was Reo. He had the kind of smile that made people trust him too easily and the kind of confidence that made teachers both adore and resent him.
Everyone adored him.
But you never did — not like that.
You and Reo had known each other since you were five, since he’d tried to share his pudding at daycare and got it smeared across his designer uniform when you slapped it away. From then on, it was chaos and camaraderie: late-night calls for math homework, popcorn fights during cram sessions, and long car rides in the Mikage family limo with your knees knocking under shared blankets.
You were like siblings — something even Reo’s fangirls at school refused to believe.
“Why would I date Reo?” you’d asked once, horrified. “That’s like dating my cousin.”
Reo, overhearing it from across the hall, only shrugged. “That’s her way of saying I’m the more attractive one.”
It was all harmless teasing — always had been.
But then came him.
The day Reo introduced you to Nagi, you had no expectations. You were just tagging along to another of his after-practice hangouts, this time near the gym’s side benches, where he said a “new recruit” was waiting.
You weren’t prepared for the tall, white-haired boy who barely spared you a glance when you arrived.
“This is Nagi Seishiro,” Reo had said with a proud grin, clapping a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “Monster on the field. Zero social skills. Doesn’t care about anything except games.”
Nagi looked up from his phone — not because he wanted to, but because Reo had nudged him. His eyes were dull, like nothing around him sparked much interest. The only life in him came from the game lighting up his screen.
Reo gestured to you. “This is Angel.”
You blinked. “Excuse me—”
“It’s what I call her. Don’t question it.”
Nagi’s gaze lingered for a second. “Angel, huh.”
His voice was flat, disinterested. But oddly enough… he repeated the name like it mattered.
That was all he said before looking back down at his phone.
You’d never met someone so unimpressed with the world.
And yet — somehow — you found yourself drawn to him anyway.
Maybe it was the way he moved like everything was too much trouble, yet still found his way next to you. Or maybe it was the quiet comfort of his presence, how even in silence, he never made you feel alone. There was something hypnotic about his stillness — as if chaos couldn’t touch him. And when you were around him, it couldn’t touch you either.
It started subtly.
Nagi never called you by your name. Just Angel.
Not once had he asked if it was okay. He just picked it up the way someone picks up a new favorite song — without effort, without question. It was like a default setting in his brain. Automatic. Natural. Like he couldn’t imagine calling you anything else.
It didn’t help, though. Not when he kept giving you mixed signals.
Nagi might’ve looked distracted all the time, his gaze often glued to his phone or drifting to the clouds during class — but he always paid attention to you. He remembered the details you told him: your favorite snack during exam season, the exact way you liked your tea, the movie you wanted to watch next. Once, you’d casually mentioned how your feet always got cold in the library, and the next time you studied together, he brought an extra pair of fuzzy socks like it was no big deal.
He didn’t say much. Never did. But he showed up in ways that made your heart ache.
Like the way he’d always wander over to you after hours of football practice, the sky fading pink above Hakuho High’s rooftop or the sun casting long shadows on the back field. Sweaty and slow-moving, he’d drop his duffle bag beside you with a grunt, flopping onto the grass like gravity had finally won.
Sometimes he’d tug at your sleeve in that lazy, silent way of asking for attention — head resting on your thigh as if it were the most obvious pillow in the world. No warning. No asking. Just trust.
And you always let him.
You’d card your fingers through his soft white hair, and he’d hum, quiet and content, almost like a cat purring. The world seemed to dull when he was like that — when his breathing evened out and his body melted into yours like he belonged there.
Sometimes, he’d shift closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck, voice barely a whisper.
“Sleepy, Angel.”
Just two words. But you’d feel them for hours after.
You’d sit there frozen, breath caught in your throat, heart thundering like it was trying to break out of your ribs. And he — unbothered, eyes half-lidded and heavy — would fall asleep to the sound of your racing pulse.
He didn’t realize what he was doing to you.
Or maybe he did. You could never really tell.
Because when the sun dipped low enough, and the rest of the team started filing out, Nagi would lift his head, yawn, and walk off like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just cracked your heart open with one word, one look, one casual lean into your shoulder.
It wasn’t fair — how someone so unattached could still have that kind of power over you.
It wasn’t fair that you started hoping he’d do it again.
Because every time he touched you like that — every time he called you Angel in that soft, half-asleep tone — it felt like a dream you weren’t allowed to wake up from.
And yet, you never stopped waiting for the next time.
Oh, but it didn’t stop with lazy afternoons and fleeting moments of closeness. Not even close.
There were other moments — quieter ones, tucked between school and soccer practice, when it was just you, Reo, and Nagi heading off-campus for food. Reo would always act like he was treating royalty, leading you both with swagger and flair, his platinum card practically flashing in the sunlight.
He’d announce, “My treat, obviously,” before you even stepped into the restaurant. Mikage Reo: Hakuho High’s golden boy, heir to the building you were sitting in, and yet still the same loud, dramatic idiot you grew up with.
But your focus was never on him.
Because Nagi, without fail, would always slide into the seat beside you. Even if Reo sat next to you first, Nagi would stand there, towering, blinking once before saying, “Move.” And Reo — used to his antics — would just sigh and scoot without complaint.
He didn’t even try to hide it anymore.
And every time Nagi settled beside you, your heart did that stupid thing again — tripped over itself, stumbled into your ribs, and reminded you that you were already too far gone.
It always happened the same way.
You’d be mid-bite or mid-conversation when suddenly, his fingers would find yours beneath the table. Not a brush. Not an accidental touch. A full-on interlock. As if your hand was made to fit into his.
Sometimes, his grip was light, absent-minded — his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your palm while he focused on his rice bowl. Sometimes, it was firmer, grounding. Like he needed to hold on to something, and for some reason, that something was always you.
One time, he caught your hand before you could even sit down, pulling it into his lap casually.
“Your hand’s warm,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded with that usual drowsy calm. “And soft.”
Like it was the most obvious observation in the world. Like it meant nothing.
But it didn’t mean nothing to you.
It never did.
Because every time he said something like that—quiet and thoughtless, like a dream slipping through your fingers—it burrowed deeper into your heart. And left you wondering: Does he even know what he’s doing to me?
Across the table, Reo would catch your eye with a smirk.
He’d rest his chin in his hand, grinning like a fox. “You two should just date already,” he’d say one afternoon, loud enough for Nagi to hear.
You choked on your drink.
Nagi didn’t even flinch. “Too much work,” he replied without missing a beat—but his grip on your hand didn’t loosen.
Your stomach twisted. And Reo? He looked at you knowingly, as if he could see the spiral in your mind before you even admitted it to yourself.
You wanted to believe there was something there. That the touches meant something. That the nickname wasn’t just a habit. That the way he leaned into your shoulder and closed his eyes wasn’t just comfort—it was you.
But Nagi never said anything.
And you were too scared to ask.
Because what if it really was just who he was? What if the closeness you treasured so deeply… wasn’t special to him at all?
You hated how much the uncertainty hurt.
Hated how you still looked for his name on your phone screen.
Hated how your heart reacted to every small thing he did—like it hadn’t learned how to protect itself.
Because no matter how casual he made it seem… holding Nagi’s hand always felt like the closest thing to home.
And maybe that was the most dangerous part.
Because when something starts to feel like home, you forget it was never promised to you. You start expecting it—counting on it—imagining things that were never said out loud. You start building a future in the quiet spaces between words he never meant for you to read into.
You told yourself you were fine with the silence. That you could live in the in-between. But your heart knew better. It ached louder every time Nagi pulled you a little closer… and said nothing at all.
So now—suffocating in feelings you never meant to have—you were sprawled like a corpse on the oversized couch in Reo’s ridiculous penthouse living room.
Hakuho High’s golden boy, born with a silver spoon and a rooftop garden, was currently snacking on something that cost more than your weekly lunch allowance and watching you fall apart with the patience of someone used to your drama.
“Fuck it!” you screamed into one of his designer pillows, muffled but heartfelt. “I hate him. I hate his stupid hair, and his lazy slouch, and the way he breathes like the world is boring and calls me angel like he didn’t just short-circuit my entire central nervous system.”
Reo didn’t even flinch. “So,” he said casually, tossing another popcorn kernel into his mouth, “you’re saying you’re fine.”
You let out a long, wounded groan into the cushions. “You ruined my life, Mikage.”
“Oh, is that what I did?” he said, utterly unfazed. “You were so normal before Nagi, huh? Always emotionally stable, never crying over how ‘his voice sounds like fresh snow falling on a winter night.’”
Your head snapped up. “I never said that.”
He smirked. “You did. Last week. When he called you at midnight to ask what time practice was and you replayed the voicemail six times.”
Your cheeks burned. “That’s… not the point!”
“No, you’re right. The point is, I introduced you two. I should get matchmaking royalties.”
You sat up, dramatically throwing off his fancy blanket. “You should’ve never introduced him to me, Reo!”
Reo gave you a shit-eating grin. “Why? Because he’s hot, mysterious, emotionally unavailable, and clearly soft for you? Yeah, sorry. That’s on me.”
You groaned and flopped back onto the couch. “He’s not soft for me.”
“Oh, right. My bad,” he said, mock-serious. “He just randomly holds your hand during lunch, naps with his head in your lap, and only calls you angel. Totally meaningless.”
“It feels meaningless when he never says anything about it!”
Reo got up, made his way to the mini fridge, and tossed you a can of something carbonated and unnecessarily expensive. “Sei’s weird,” he said, plopping back into his seat. “He doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t exactly do all that with everyone.”
You cracked open the drink and took a long sip, sighing. “I feel like I’m going insane.”
“No, this is just karma for every time you made fun of me in middle school when I had a crush.”
You threw a cushion at him.
He caught it easily. “Look. You and Nagi? It’s a slow burn. Like, glacial. Like, two rocks eroding in a riverbed over several centuries.”
You gave him a look. “You’re not helping.”
“I am helping,” he said smugly. “I’m listening to your crisis, offering top-tier beverages, and reminding you that he called you angel during conditioning drills, which means even when he’s sweating to death, you’re still on his mind.”
You paused. “You think?”
Reo leaned back, his expression softer now. “I know.”
You stared at the ceiling. “Then why hasn’t he said anything? Why hasn’t he… done anything?”
Reo hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “He probably doesn’t know what he’s feeling yet.”
You blinked. “How do you not know you like someone?”
Reo looked at you knowingly. “Have you met Nagi?”
“…Fair.”
The two of you sat in silence for a bit, the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows spilling across the marble floors. The penthouse was too fancy, too big—but in this moment, it felt oddly safe.
Then, quietly, you said, “I think I like him.”
Reo didn’t tease you that night. He just smiled—crooked and quiet—and let the weight of your words settle in the silence between you.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
And for one brief moment, you felt lighter. Like something in your chest had finally been named, and now you could breathe around it.
But that peace didn’t last.
Because after that night at his penthouse, Reo didn’t just return to being your best friend.
He became your personal tormentor.
Not in the mean-spirited way—not really. But in that classic Mikage Reo fashion, he took your emotional meltdown, filed it under “important best friend information,” and proceeded to use it for sport.
Subtle at first.
A comment here. A smirk there.
“Your boyfriend’s under the tree again,” he’d say casually during soccer practice, flinging his towel over his shoulder and pointing across the field with his chin. “Probably waiting for you to come fan him or something.”
You didn’t even bother responding the first few times. But Reo? He thrived on reactions. So the quieter you were, the more relentless he became.
“He’s literally using your hoodie as a pillow right now,” he snorted during one break. “What is he, a stray cat? Did you feed him once and now he won’t leave?”
You tried to ignore him, really, you did.
But it was hard to play it cool when Nagi Seishiro—cool, aloof, half-asleep Nagi—kept gravitating toward you like you were the only person on the planet worth orbiting.
When he’d wander over during water breaks, barely say anything, and drop to the grass beside you with a heavy sigh.
When he’d tug at the hem of your sleeve like a child, muttering, “Move a little, Angel,” so he could comfortably lay his head on your lap.
The first time he did it, you froze.
You had no idea what to do with your hands, with your face, with the ridiculous tempo your heart had launched into.
And when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and whispered, “Warm. ’M comfy here,” you were sure you’d ascended into another dimension.
Reo, from several feet away, didn’t miss a beat.
“Are you serious right now?” he called out, deadpan. “You’re using her as a human mattress? Sei, we’re in the middle of practice.”
Nagi, eyes still closed, responded with a half-lidded shrug. “We’re on break.”
Reo turned to you, hands on hips like a disappointed parent. “Why do you let him do that?”
You glared at him. “Do I look like I can stop him?”
Reo opened his mouth, then paused, expression flickering to something amused and oddly fond. “You don’t, actually. Which is kinda impressive.”
From then on, he only got worse.
During lunch, he made a habit of sliding Nagi’s bento closer to you before anyone sat down.
“Feed him,” Reo would say, like a waiter taking your order. “Or he won’t eat. Apparently your hands make everything taste better.”
Nagi, seated beside you like it was law, didn’t even look up from his game.
“True,” he said flatly, holding out his chopsticks expectantly. “Angel feeds me better.”
Your face combusted.
Reo nearly fell off his seat from laughing.
And somehow—somehow—this became routine.
If Nagi didn’t get to sit next to you, he’d just drag his chair over. If you were holding your phone, he’d take it and lean against your shoulder while scrolling aimlessly. If you were quiet, he’d lean into you, cheek against your hair, and murmur, “Tell me something. I like hearing your voice.”
Every small thing turned sacred. Every tiny touch set you on fire.
And Reo? He stoked the flames.
It was like living in a dream you weren’t allowed to name. A day-by-day slow burn that left you suspended in something warm and fragile. You didn’t know if Nagi meant any of it the way you hoped he did. He never said anything. Never changed his expression. Just kept calling you Angel and reaching for you like you belonged to him.
And the worst part?
You kept letting him.
You wanted to believe it meant something.
You needed to believe it did.
But the not knowing—it festered. The what-ifs, the maybe-he-does, maybe-he-doesn’t… they turned every smile into a battlefield, every silence into a storm.
You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from hoping until it all came to a head on a regular, sleepy afternoon at Hakuho High.
The sky was bluer than usual. The breeze was soft. You had a bottle of your favorite drink in hand after a long lecture, your thoughts drifting—mostly about how quiet Nagi had been lately. Distant, even.
You were behind the gym, just starting to unscrew the cap of your drink, when someone approached you.
“Hey.”
You blinked up, surprised. He was a third-year—tall, broad-shouldered, sharp features softened by the slight smile he wore. You recognized him vaguely. Vice-captain of the basketball team. The type girls whispered about in the corridors.
“I know this is sudden,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “but… are you dating Nagi Seishiro?”
Your grip tightened around your drink. The question hit harder than it should have.
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You guys are always together,” he said, shrugging. “It kinda looks like it. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I figured I’d ask first.”
You didn’t know how to answer.
Because no—he never asked you out. But yes—he held your hand like it meant something. He napped on your lap. Called you Angel. Looked for you in crowds.
But that wasn’t love, was it? At least… not the kind that gets voiced.
So you shook your head.
“No,” you said softly. “We’re not.”
The word sat heavy on your tongue, like something bitter you were finally forced to swallow. Even saying it aloud—confirming that there was nothing between you and Nagi—hurt more than you thought it would.
The boy blinked, surprised. “Oh. Then… Reo?”
You blinked back, caught off guard. “What?”
He laughed nervously, raising both hands in surrender. “Sorry—just, the way you and Mikage always bicker. I figured maybe you two were, you know… childhood friends-to-lovers or whatever.”
You stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.
Then came the deadpan: “Heck no.”
It was more disgust than denial, and it left your mouth before you could filter it.
The guy laughed again—this time, genuinely. “Alright, alright. Just checking.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushing. “Reo’s like… my brother. That would be disgusting.”
“That clears things up.” He smiled, easing a little. “Then… maybe we could go for coffee this weekend?”
There was a pause.
And then, before you could give yourself a reason not to, you nodded.
“Sure,” you said. “Why not?”
It wasn’t a confession.
It wasn’t a first kiss.
But it was the first time you admitted—if only to yourself—that maybe you couldn’t wait around for Nagi forever.
What you didn’t know, standing there in the soft shadow of the school gym, was that someone had seen the entire thing. From the moment the boy asked if you were dating Nagi, down to the way you wrinkled your nose at the mention of Reo.
And that someone’s stomach dropped like a stone.
Because while you were saying no…
Nagi was across the path—hearing every word like it was a slap to the face.
He didn’t stick around to hear your answer to the guy’s next question. He didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Something in him recoiled the moment he saw you standing there—with him—smiling the way you usually smiled at him.
He walked away, fast and quiet.
The weight of his limbs was heavier than usual. His hoodie felt too warm against his skin, and his hands stayed shoved deep into the pockets like he was trying to bury the strange, twisting ache crawling up his chest.
He went back to the soccer field, eyes blank, lips pressed into a line.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t even look at Reo when the other boy offered him a water bottle.
He just stood in the grass, shoulders stiff, waiting for the whistle to blow.
Why would he feel like this?
You can date who you want. You’re your own person. You always were.
And besides—you were right.
You two weren’t together.
You weren’t his girlfriend.
You were just… his Angel.
His nap partner. His hand to hold. His favorite seat under the sakura tree after a long day of classes. The one who laughed at his flat jokes. The one who listened even when he didn’t respond. The one he could always find in the stands, no matter how far away.
His… friend.
That’s all it was, right?
Just a friend.
So why did the idea of someone else having your attention—the thought of you laughing at someone else’s bad jokes, someone else’s hand holding yours—make his throat tighten like this?
Why did he feel like his chest was full of static?
Why did practice suddenly feel impossible to focus on?
Why did everything burn?
He was Nagi Seishiro—apathetic, unbothered, uninterested in everything except convenience and quiet. He didn’t do emotions. Didn’t care about people.
And yet…
Why?
Why did it feel like he was about to lose something he didn’t even realize he was holding?
The thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
It echoed in his head, over and over, louder than the screech of cleats against the turf, louder than the whistle, louder than Reo yelling plays from the opposite end of the field.
You’d said it so clearly. So easily.
“No, we’re not.”
You weren’t lying. But something in your voice—he couldn’t forget it. It didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like… surrender.
Why did that hurt so damn much?
He pressed forward in the scrimmage, a pass skimming just past his foot because he moved a second too late. His reflexes were off. His instincts dulled. The field felt too narrow. His jersey clung to his back. The usual lightness in his body was gone, replaced by a heavy, dragging weight he couldn’t shake.
He missed another pass.
And another.
He shoved his hands into his hair in frustration, growling quietly, “Tch.”
A few teammates stared. They didn’t say anything, but the tension rippled.
Nagi didn’t care.
No, that was a lie.
He did care.
That was the worst part.
For the first time in a long time, he cared too much and didn’t know how to handle it.
Across the field, Reo watched carefully.
He had known Nagi since first year. Knew the way his best friend moved, the tempo of his rhythm on the field, the lazy but calculated precision of his mind. He’d watched Nagi play sick, play exhausted, even play pissed off—and still look good doing it.
But this?
This wasn’t the usual indifference.
This wasn’t fatigue.
This was Nagi unraveling.
Quietly. Subtly. But painfully.
He could see it in the way Nagi’s shoulders stiffened with every misstep. The way his hands balled into fists whenever the ball rolled too far. The way he didn’t even look toward the bleachers—where you usually sat watching, sometimes waving, always smiling.
You weren’t there today.
And Reo had a feeling Nagi knew exactly why.
But the worst part? He didn’t do anything about it.
Not the next day.
Not the day after that.
Not even when your eyes lingered on him longer than necessary—waiting, hoping, hurting.
Instead, Nagi distanced himself.
No explanation. No text. No lazy “Angel” in the hallway, no sudden weight of his head on your shoulder like he used to do after class. He didn’t take the seat next to you during lunch anymore, even when Reo subtly saved it. He didn’t offer you sips of his convenience store soda, or absentmindedly thread your fingers with his under the cafeteria table.
It was as if someone had pressed pause on everything that felt safe and familiar.
And you noticed. Of course you noticed.
How could you not?
The boy who once made you feel like the center of his world was now acting like you barely existed in it.
You tried to brush it off at first—told yourself he was just tired from soccer, or spacing out like he always did, or maybe he just needed time. You knew Nagi could be… detached. Aloof. He was never the type to chase or cling. That was just how he was.
But this? This was different.
He wasn’t just distracted.
He was avoiding you.
The realization settled in your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake off, especially when Reo—your oldest friend, your partner in chaos since grade school—confirmed the one thing you dreaded to hear.
It was late in the afternoon when it happened. You were at the Mikage penthouse again, your designated post-school escape on days that felt too heavy. You were lying on your back, legs tossed over the armrest of Reo’s imported Italian couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Reo was scrolling through his phone beside you, one socked foot pressed against your shin lazily. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the central air and the occasional clink of ice in your untouched drinks.
“He knows the vice captain asked you out.”
Your stomach dropped.
You turned your head slowly toward Reo, your voice barely above a whisper. “Nagi?”
Reo nodded, still scrolling. “He was nearby when it happened. Didn’t say anything, but I saw his face after. He walked back to the field like he was ready to murder someone.”
You sat up fully now, heart pounding. “Is that why he’s been avoiding me?”
Reo sighed like it physically pained him to deal with the emotional incompetence of his best friend. “Most likely. I mean, it’s either that or he suddenly forgot how to function around people—which, okay, is also a possibility with him.”
You swallowed, the pieces falling into place too fast for comfort. “But… why would he avoid me?”
Reo finally looked at you, his expression unreadable for once.
The teasing had fallen from his features like snow off a rooftop—quiet, unexpected. His voice, when he finally spoke, came soft but firm.
“Because he’s a dumbass.”
You blinked. “I—what?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, like he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out.
“He likes you, idiot.”
The words hit you harder than they should have.
They knocked the air out of your lungs and left you staring at Reo like he’d just casually told you gravity stopped working.
“I—” Your mouth opened, then shut again. You shook your head. “No. No, he doesn’t.”
Reo let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Yes, he does. He just doesn’t realize it the way you want him to yet. That doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
You frowned, your voice quieter now. “Then why is he avoiding me?”
Reo studied you carefully. “Because he’s never felt this kind of thing before. He’s confused. Freaked out, probably. And when Sei gets overwhelmed, he doesn’t push forward—he hides. Retreats.”
You looked away, your fingers curling into the hem of your sweater. “It hurts.”
Reo’s gaze softened. “I know. And it’s killing me watching both of you act like this when it’s so obvious you mean the world to each other.”
You sighed, slumping back against the couch cushions. Your heart felt heavy, bruised in a way that wasn’t physical. Like something was wilting inside your chest—soft and unseen, but so achingly present. “What do I do, Reo?”
He didn’t answer right away. For once, he wasn’t being theatrical or smug. No exaggerated hand gestures or sarcastic comments. Just silence, and a look in his eyes that said he was weighing his words carefully.
Finally, Reo spoke. His voice was gentler than you expected.
“I’m not playing favorites here, but… you already did your part.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I mean, come on,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “You like him. You know it. I know it. Hell, half of Hakuho probably knows it. You’ve shown him in every way that counts. It’s not your responsibility to make him see that he likes you back.”
Your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Reo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on yours. “Sei’s not good with emotions. He feels things, yeah—but he doesn’t always know what he’s feeling. He zones out, pulls away, avoids it like it’s a hard level in a game he doesn’t want to clear.”
Your heart stung. “Then what if he never clears it?”
“Then that’s on him,” Reo said, and there was no hesitation in his voice this time. “Not you. You’ve been patient. You’ve been honest, even if you haven’t said the exact words. If he lets you walk away without realizing what you mean to him… that’s his loss.”
The words echoed in your chest, louder than you wanted them to.
Because deep down, you didn’t want to walk away. Not even a little. Not even when he made you feel invisible. But Reo was right—loving someone didn’t mean setting yourself on fire to light their path. And maybe… maybe it was time Nagi realized that.
You closed your eyes, trying to blink away the sting behind your lashes. “I hate this.”
Reo offered a soft laugh and nudged your knee with his. “I know. Love sucks sometimes. Especially when it comes with a six-foot-tall emotional brick wall.”
You cracked a smile, just barely. “Thanks for the reminder.”
He grinned. “Anytime, Angel.”
And despite the ache still lodged somewhere in your ribs, his words settled into your heart like a gentle promise.
That no matter how messy this all became, you weren’t completely alone in it.
Reo was there—annoying, overconfident, occasionally too invested—but always in your corner. He never let you spiral too far without yanking you back with a half-serious joke or a reality check disguised as sarcasm. And knowing that… made breathing a little easier.
You stayed in his penthouse longer than you meant to that night. He made you tea without asking, switched the mood lighting to a calmer tone, and played some playlist he called “Healing for the Emotionally Exhausted.” You didn’t even have the energy to roll your eyes.
You stared out the window while the city lights blinked back at you like stars—distant and quiet. Your thoughts drifted again to Nagi. To the way his hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over his phone. The weight of his head when he laid it in your lap after practice. The warmth in his voice when he murmured, “Sleepy, Angel.”
You clutched a pillow to your chest and sank deeper into Reo’s velvet couch.
Had it always been this one-sided?
Or was Nagi really just scared?
You didn’t know.
But tomorrow… you were going to try. Even if it wasn’t with him.
Then the day of the date came.
You didn’t wear anything flashy—just your usual clothes with a touch more care. Hair brushed out, light gloss on your lips, perfume you knew Reo teased you about for being too sweet. You stared at yourself in the mirror longer than usual before heading out, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Normal. Just a simple afternoon. Just… something new.
The vice captain was already waiting near the front gates of Hakuho, dressed neatly in the school’s after-hours uniform with a pleasant, easy smile. He wasn’t Nagi. His energy was steadier, more grounded. Not sleepy or unpredictable—but warm in his own right.
He greeted you with a polite, “You look nice,” and offered to carry your bag.
You smiled. Tried to mean it.
But something in your chest tugged.
You walked to the nearby café together, talked about classes, mutual friends, upcoming tournaments. He was kind. Charming, even. You knew girls at school talked about him a lot—and it wasn’t hard to see why. He was attentive without being overbearing, curious about your thoughts, laughing easily at your jokes.
But it wasn’t Nagi’s laugh.
It wasn’t Nagi’s quiet stare.
It wasn’t Nagi at all.
And the vice captain could see it.
Maybe not immediately—but somewhere between you pushing food around your plate and your gaze flickering toward the glass windows every time a white-haired figure passed, he figured it out.
He set his drink down gently and leaned back.
“You still like him, don’t you?”
You froze. The words landed softly, not like a confrontation, but like an observation. A truth laid bare.
You looked at your half-eaten dessert, then slowly nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I always have.”
He chuckled—low and not bitter. Just amused in a tired sort of way.
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda figured when you spent the first ten minutes watching the sidewalk instead of me.”
Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” He held up a hand, waving it off with a smile. “Seriously. I knew what I was walking into. Guess I hoped maybe you’d give me a chance to make you forget him.”
You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw no resentment in his expression. Just understanding.
“I really appreciate that you still came,” he added. “Even knowing your heart’s kind of… already somewhere else.”
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and nodded. “Thank you. For being kind.”
He smiled. “He better realize what he has before someone else does.”
And somewhere across the city, under the molten streaks of the setting sun, Nagi Seishiro was pacing the length of Hakuho High’s empty soccer field. The sky above him glowed in soft orange and deep violet, but he didn’t look up once. His feet dragged across the turf like his body was moving on its own—slow, heavy, as if weighed down by something he couldn’t shake off.
Reo’s voice still echoed in his mind, sharp and impossible to ignore.
“You feel something, don’t you?”
Nagi hadn’t answered. He didn’t know how. Because how do you name a feeling you’ve never bothered to understand?
He wasn’t built for messy emotions. He preferred ease—predictable gameplay, soft pillows, long naps. But you? You weren’t easy. You were the one variable he hadn’t figured out. The one thing that made his chest ache when you smiled and made his head go silent when you laughed. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t try to.
Not until he saw it.
That day.
You were standing behind the gym, light bouncing off your hair as you spoke to the vice captain. Nagi hadn’t meant to linger. He was just walking by—heading to grab a juice box or waste a few more minutes before practice.
But then the vice captain asked you something. And Nagi stopped.
“Are you dating Nagi Seishiro?”
It was a simple question, harmless to anyone else. But to Nagi, it sounded like a pin being pulled from a grenade. His steps faltered. He didn’t turn around, didn’t breathe too loudly, just stood half-hidden behind the wall’s edge, frozen like a bug caught in amber.
You hesitated. Just for a beat.
Then your answer came, soft and unsteady. “No. We’re not.”
And Nagi couldn’t explain why that answer—the very truth he’d never had the guts to change—felt like a sucker punch to the chest.
He left before he could hear what came next. Because in his chest, a feeling he’d spent months ignoring had finally started screaming. And it didn’t sound like indifference. It sounded like jealousy. Like regret.
And maybe—just maybe—like heartbreak.
He never knew your answer.
Not from you.
But by the time lunch ended and the hallways quieted, he didn’t have to.
Whispers chased him like ghosts—fragments of your name laced with quiet gasps and knowing smirks.
“She said yes.”
“To the vice captain, right?”
“She finally gave up on Nagi, huh?”
Each word chipped at something inside him. Something he’d never named, never dared to look at too closely.
And now it was bleeding through the cracks.
Practice came like muscle memory. But there was no rhythm. No focus. His passes were too hard. His touches too sharp. A snap in his movements that wasn’t like him. He missed a shot he’d normally sink with his eyes closed.
Reo said his name—twice, maybe three times—but Nagi didn’t answer.
Eventually, they left him there. Even Reo.
The sun dipped lower, dragging shadows across the field, and still, Nagi didn’t move. His limbs sprawled carelessly across the grass, as if exhaustion had pinned him down and frustration had tied the knot. He stared at the sky, expression unreadable, fingers tangled in blades of green.
Everything felt wrong. Off.
His chest was tight again, like it had been all day. Like he’d swallowed something too big, and now it wouldn’t leave.
She said yes.
To someone else.
The thought circled like a vulture.
You found him alone on the soccer field, long after the others had packed up and left.
The lights from the school building flickered faintly in the distance, casting long shadows across the grass where Nagi lay stretched out like a boy made of bone-deep exhaustion. His jersey clung to his skin, a streak of sweat running down his temple. His eyes, however, were still wide open—staring up at the sky like it could answer the ache twisting in his chest.
He didn’t look at you when you approached. But you saw the way his hand twitched in the grass. Like he knew you were coming.
“Nagi.”
Your voice didn’t tremble, but it came out quieter than you’d expected. You stood above him for a moment, waiting, hoping—but he didn’t respond.
You slowly sat beside him, knees drawn up to your chest, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.
“I said yes,” you said after a long silence, eyes on the horizon. “To someone else.”
He didn’t move. But his jaw shifted, the tiniest tick beneath his cheekbone.
“I said yes to a date because I was tired of wondering what this was,” you continued, voice starting to shake despite your best efforts. “Tired of waiting for you to say something. Anything.”
Still nothing. Only the sound of distant cicadas and the dull thud of your heartbeat in your ears.
“Do you even remember what you said the day we met?” you asked quietly. “You didn’t say my name once. Just called me Angel. Like it was automatic. Like it didn’t matter who I was, just that I was there.”
You laughed bitterly under your breath, your fingers clenching. “I tried not to let it mean anything. I tried not to hope. But then you’d rest your head on my shoulder and whisper like I was your safe place. You’d hold my hand and tell me it was soft, warm. You made me feel like I was… something.”
Your breath hitched. You turned to face him fully, and finally—finally—Nagi turned his head to look at you.
His expression was unreadable. But you could see it—the fear just beneath the surface. The conflict. The guilt.
Your voice cracked when you spoke again. “Do you like me, Nagi?”
The question hung between you like smoke.
He blinked. Once. Then again. And slowly, he sat up, arms bracing behind him.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Your chest caved in.
It wasn’t anger that flared in you. It was heartbreak. The slow, sinking realization that the boy you wanted so badly didn’t even know if he wanted you back.
“You don’t know,” you repeated, breathless, eyes burning.
He looked away, fingers digging into the grass. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” you said, voice shaking harder now. “It is that simple. You either feel something for me or you don’t. And if you don’t, that’s okay—” your voice broke. “—but you can’t keep treating me like I’m your world if you can’t even figure out your own heart.”
Nagi’s head snapped back toward you, eyes wide, as if your words had physically struck him.
“You can’t nuzzle into my neck and fall asleep on my lap and whisper ‘Angel’ like I’m the only one who matters—and then say you don’t know. That’s not fair.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
You took a shaky step back. “I let myself believe you did. I let myself fall for you—slowly, painfully. Every time you remembered the little things I said, every time you showed up even in your quiet way, I thought maybe…”
You trailed off, swallowing hard. “But you never said it. You never gave me anything real to hold on to. And now I’m the idiot who said yes to someone else, but all I can think about is you.”
He was silent. Still. His silver hair caught in the breeze, eyes locked on yours like he wanted to say something—needed to—but couldn’t bring himself to cross that threshold.
You shook your head, blinking fast. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting for someone who doesn’t even know if he wants me.”
You turned.
And this time, Nagi didn’t stop you.
But as your figure disappeared across the field—shoulders trembling, arms wrapped tightly around yourself—something inside him cracked like ice splitting under too much weight.
And for the first time, Nagi Seishiro wasn’t sure if he was tired…
Or if this was the first time he was finally awake.
Because something in your voice had snapped him out of the haze he’d been living in—the gentle fog of comfort he’d built around himself like a second skin. You were gone now, walking away from him, and yet your words still echoed in his ears louder than any stadium ever had.
You can’t treat me like I’m your world if you don’t even know your own heart.
It rang like a siren in his skull.
The soccer field felt too open after that. Too wide. Too cold. His limbs buzzed with restless energy he didn’t know what to do with. So he moved on instinct, feet dragging him away from the grass and the guilt and the silence you left behind.
The next time he blinked, he was standing in front of Reo’s building.
The Mikage Tower—an architectural flex of polished glass and inherited legacy—loomed above him like a monolith. Nagi hadn’t even realized where he was heading until the security at the front recognized him and let him through wordlessly, like he belonged there. Maybe he did. He came here often enough. But today, the elevator ride felt different. The music sounded too sharp. The walls too reflective. He could see himself in them—eyes unfocused, jaw clenched tight.
By the time he reached the penthouse, the door was already swinging open.
Reo looked like he’d been expecting him.
“Figured you’d show up eventually,” Reo said, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes sweeping over Nagi with a familiar, no-bullshit expression. “You looked like you were about to combust during practice.”
Nagi walked past him in silence, dropping onto the nearest couch like a sack of limbs. He stared at the ceiling as if the answers might be etched into the marble tiles.
Reo shut the door and followed, sitting across from him. “So… you wanna talk?”
“No,” Nagi muttered.
Reo leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “Alright. You wanna sulk here until you rot into the cushions, then?”
“Maybe.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.
Then Nagi spoke again, voice low, like he hated even admitting it. “She went on the date.”
Reo blinked. “You mean you let her go on the date.”
Nagi’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t let her do anything. She can do what she wants.”
“She wanted you, dumbass,” Reo snapped, sitting forward now, arms braced on his knees. “She waited—waited—for you to pull your head out of your ass. You were the one who kept acting like she mattered and then saying nothing.”
Nagi ran a hand down his face, dragging his palm over his eyes like he could rub the thoughts away. “I didn’t know I liked her.”
Reo scoffed. “You knew. You just didn’t realize that’s what it was. You’ve never cared about anyone like that before, so you didn’t recognize it.”
“I felt…” Nagi trailed off, words catching in his throat. “Like something was ripping out of me when I saw him ask her. I wanted to hit something. Or sleep forever. I didn’t like it.”
“That’s what jealousy feels like, Sei,” Reo said quietly. “That’s what heartbreak feels like when you’re too late.”
Nagi let his head fall back, a low groan rumbling from his chest. “She said she liked me. And I told her… I told her I don’t know.”
Reo stared at him like he’d just confessed to committing a felony.
“The fuck?” he hissed, dragging a hand through his already-mussed hair. “Why did you say I don’t know, idiot?”
“I panicked,” Nagi muttered, his voice flat and low, like he hated himself for it. “She was standing there, looking at me like—like I meant something, and I just… froze.”
Reo scoffed, launching himself off the couch to pace across the penthouse. “Unbelievable. You—you lay in her lap. You call her angel. You hold her hand like it’s the only thing grounding you to this planet and then when she finally tells you she likes you, you give her I don’t know?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Nagi said, scrubbing a palm over his face again. “I didn’t think she liked me like that. I didn’t know I felt that way—until she walked away.”
“Bullshit,” Reo snapped, rounding back to face him. “You knew. You’ve always known. You just didn’t want to know because then you’d actually have to do something about it.”
Nagi flinched at that.
Reo’s voice softened just a little. “You think I didn’t notice? The way you’d act around her? You’re not subtle, man. You’d go quiet when she laughed with someone else. You’d light up when she brought you those caramel milk drinks from the vending machine. You’d look at her like she was the only goddamn person in a world full of people you couldn’t be bothered to care about.”
Nagi’s throat worked around something thick. He stared down at his hands like they were foreign to him. “I didn’t know I could feel like that,” he murmured. “I didn’t think I was built for it.”
Reo sighed again, slower this time, and sat back down beside him. “No one is. Not really. But when it’s her… when it’s someone like her… you figure it out. Or you lose her.”
And that—that—was what scared Nagi the most.
He could sleep through classes. He could ignore most people. He could drift through life half-awake.
But the idea of you walking away for good? That terrified him more than he knew how to admit.
Because it wasn’t indifference he felt.
It wasn’t confusion.
It was love.
And now—he might’ve already been too late.
You hadn’t spoken to him since the last time he left you with nothing but silence. Three days had passed, and the distance between you and Nagi had grown so vast, it may as well have been oceans. Not a glance. Not a breath shared. Not even the subtle magnetic pull that used to hum beneath your skin whenever he was near.
It was like he had vanished.
Or worse—you had learned how to exist without him.
You didn’t yell. You didn’t pout. You didn’t cry. But you also didn’t smile when he passed by. You didn’t look up when he walked into the room. And if you were forced to stand within arm’s reach, like during practice or at lunch, you kept yourself composed with a sort of numb grace that cut him deeper than any outburst ever could.
He had never known how much he craved your attention until it was gone.
And now, here he was—locked inside the clubroom with you because Reo, fed up with watching you both suffer in silence, decided to take matters into his own hands.
The door slammed shut behind you. A soft metallic click confirmed it was locked.
“Reo?” you said sharply, turning back.
“I’m not opening it,” came Reo’s smug reply from the other side. “Not until you idiots talk. Or make out. Either one.”
“Reo!” you growled, rushing to the handle. It didn’t budge. “This isn’t funny!”
“Not meant to be,” he said. “Consider this an intervention. Figure it out. I’ll be back… eventually.”
And then his footsteps faded.
You stood frozen for a moment, facing the door, before you slowly turned to face the boy across the room.
Nagi stood by the windows, bathed in fading sunlight, his white hair catching every bit of golden glow like a halo. But he didn’t look like an angel. Not now. He looked exhausted. Haunted. Like someone still trying to understand why the hell his chest wouldn’t stop aching.
He didn’t look at you.
So you stayed by the door, arms crossed. A wall of silence stretched between you, heavy and brittle, ready to snap.
“Say something,” you finally muttered, your voice tired, your throat sore from swallowing your feelings for days.
He flinched. You didn’t miss it.
“I didn’t ask him to do this,” he said quietly.
“But you’re not stopping it either.”
Another silence.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Then let’s get it over with.”
He finally turned. His eyes met yours.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
You laughed—but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow. “But you did.”
He stepped forward, cautious. “When I said I didn’t know… it wasn’t because I don’t feel anything.”
You narrowed your eyes, but said nothing.
“It was because I felt too much,” he admitted, voice quieter now, almost like he was afraid it would break if he raised it any higher. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“And what, you thought silence would make it better?”
“No,” he whispered. “I thought if I said it out loud, it’d ruin everything. I was scared.”
You blinked at him, your heart aching all over again. “Scared of what? That I’d say it back?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw clenched.
“I liked it,” you said, voice cracking. “The attention. The nicknames. You holding my hand. Laying on my lap. Acting like I was the only person who mattered. I liked it—because I liked you. But you don’t get to do all that and then tell me you don’t know.”
You weren’t yelling. You weren’t crying. But your pain filled every word.
“You don’t get to act like I’m your whole world, Nagi, if you don’t even know what I am to you.”
That landed like a punch to the gut.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice was low, almost hoarse. “I do know now.”
You didn’t move.
He took another step. “I know I’m stupid. That I missed the moment I should’ve told you. That I let you walk away.”
Still, you didn’t say a word.
“I thought I was okay with being your friend,” he whispered, gaze dropping to the floor. “Until I saw someone else try to be more.”
He looked up then, and his eyes held the kind of desperation that only comes when you realize something too late.
“I heard people talking. Saying you said yes. That you were going out with him. And I swear—my chest hurt so bad I couldn’t even breathe.”
You finally moved. Just barely. Your fingers curled into the hem of your shirt, grounding yourself.
“I don’t want to be just your almost,” you said.
He froze.
“I don’t want to keep waiting for maybes. I confessed, and you froze. And that told me everything I needed to know.”
“I was wrong,” he said. “I was scared. But I’m not anymore.”
You looked at him, eyes searching. “Then prove it.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was thick—full of history, full of missed chances, full of every time he called you angel like it meant everything and nothing all at once. Nagi stood there like he’d been thrown into the eye of a storm he created, a thousand unsaid words flashing behind those pale lashes and sleepy eyes.
But there was nothing sleepy about the way he looked at you now.
Slowly, like the weight of your words had finally dragged him back to earth, he took a step toward you. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes, checking—once, twice, maybe even a third time—for hesitation.
There was none.
So when he reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your face, it felt like the world tilted. His touch was tentative at first, like you were made of something he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold. And then—he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect either. His lips were warm, unsure at first, like he was still learning what it meant to feel everything he’d avoided. But the moment you leaned into him, he melted.
His other hand found your waist, sliding around to hold you steady as if he needed the anchor. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in the heat of him.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed against your mouth. “I should’ve said something sooner.”
You kissed him back, just as soft. Just as broken.
“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You never do.”
Nagi pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were clearer than you’d ever seen them—open, raw, like the wall between you was finally cracking. “I didn’t know how,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “It was easier to pretend. That if I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t lose you.”
You blinked at him, chest tightening. “But you did.”
That broke something in him.
He kissed you again, harder this time—but not in a way that hurt. It was desperation, barely concealed by the tremble in his hands as they held you close. His lips moved with a kind of apology his voice couldn’t carry.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he muttered between kisses. “I swear, Angel… I’ll make it up to you.”
His forehead fell against yours, breaths mingling as his arms slid around your waist tighter, like you might disappear again if he loosened his grip.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered. “I just—every time I saw you with someone else, I felt like I was choking on my own heartbeat.”
Your eyes watered. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I thought I could live with just being your friend,” he confessed, voice cracking. “But I can’t. Not anymore. Not after hearing you say yes to someone else. Not after realizing that someone else might get to hold your hand. Kiss you. Call you theirs.”
You closed your eyes, tears clinging to your lashes.
“Do you still want me?” he asked, his voice suddenly small. Uncertain. Like a boy rather than the prodigy the school worshipped. Like someone afraid he’d ruined the one thing he wanted most.
You nodded.
And he kissed you again.
This time it was slower. Not desperate—but deliberate. Tender. Like he was tracing every inch of what he could’ve lost. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his lips moving with careful reverence.
“You feel like home,” he whispered against your skin, voice breaking. “I didn’t realize it until I walked away from the one place I ever felt safe.”
You held him back just as tightly.
Then—
Click.
The door creaked open behind you, light spilling into the dimly lit clubroom. You both turned your heads slightly—breathless, lips pink, tangled in each other—only to find Reo leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk plastered across his face.
“Well, shit,” he drawled, arms crossed. “I was joking when I said you two better kiss.”
Your face burned, and you turned toward the wall, hiding your expression in Nagi’s shoulder. Nagi didn’t even flinch. He simply pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head like he’d claimed you completely now—and didn’t care who saw.
Reo raised an eyebrow and backed out of the room with both hands lifted. “You’re welcome, by the way. That’s the last time I play matchmaker for emotionally repressed athletes.”
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Silence settled again—but this time it was warm. Safe.
Nagi didn’t let go.
He just held you like he’d waited his whole life to.
And in the quiet that followed, with your heartbeat finally slowing, you whispered into the space between his collarbone and jaw, “Then don’t let me go again.”
His answer came in the form of another kiss—slow, aching, sure.
This time, it didn’t feel like the end of anything.
It felt like the very beginning.
Bonus scene.
Reo sauntered out of the kitchen with a plate of fruit and two croissants balanced in one hand, his expression so smug it bordered on criminal.
“Wow,” he said dramatically, flopping onto the couch like it was a throne. “So you finally confessed. In my clubroom. After months of the most agonizing, tension-filled friendship I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Honestly? About damn time.”
You sat curled up on the other end of the plush couch, mug of cocoa nestled in your hands, half-tucked into a throw blanket that definitely wasn’t yours. Your face flushed at the memory, and you ducked your head, hiding behind the steam. Nagi was sprawled across the floor with his head resting in your lap, white hair messy, fingers lazily interlaced with yours as if he refused to let you go even in sleep.
“Reo…” you muttered. “You’re never going to let us live it down, are you?”
He grinned over the rim of his juice glass. “Absolutely not. This is what I live for. I carried this friends-to-lovers campaign on my back like Atlas holding up the sky.”
Nagi grunted softly, shifting closer to your stomach and nuzzling in. “Too loud…”
Reo rolled his eyes, but fondness softened the motion. “Still a baby,” he said under his breath, before turning back to you. “Anyway. You’re welcome.”
“For what?” you asked warily.
Reo gestured with both hands like he was presenting fine art. “For being the only reason you two aren’t still stuck in the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ stage while making everyone else around you suffer.”
Your cheeks burned hotter.
Nagi, still barely awake, mumbled against the hem of your hoodie, “Didn’t wanna suffer anymore.”
Reo raised a brow. “Oh, so now you talk about your feelings?”
Another grunt. Nagi tugged on your hand and pulled it close to his chest. “Told her everything last night.”
Reo looked at you with mock horror. “Everything-everything?”
You laughed into your mug. “Reo.”
“I mean, I did say make out as a joke,” he continued, dramatically reclining back into the couch, “but you two took it as a challenge.”
Nagi tugged the blanket you were using, covering part of himself with it like a turtle burrowing deeper. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you left.”
“Oh, I was mentally high-fiving myself all the way to the vending machine,” Reo said smugly. “Finally. Emotional constipation, cured. You’re welcome.”
You gave him a dry look. “Should I get you a medal or something?”
He beamed. “Please do. Make it engraved. Cupid Mikage, or something with sparkles.”
Despite your embarrassment, you smiled. It was easy now. So much lighter than yesterday. Your shoulders didn’t feel weighed down by the what-ifs anymore. Just quiet, humming contentment.
Nagi stirred again, his hand slowly brushing circles against your palm. “Don’t leave today.”
Reo snorted from the other end. “Bro. She’s wearing my hoodie and holding your soul. She’s not going anywhere.”
You playfully kicked Reo’s foot. “You’re such a menace.”
“Hey,” he said, mock-wounded. “I locked you two in a room so you’d stop emotionally blue-balling yourselves. That’s love.”
Nagi pulled your hand to his chest again and mumbled, barely audible, “You’re mine.”
You blinked, glancing down at him.
“Hmm?” you murmured, brushing his bangs out of his face.
“Mine,” he said again, slower. “You’re… mine.”
Reo gagged from across the room. “I’m right here, guys. Show some mercy to the lonely rich kid who third-wheeled your entire relationship into existence.”
You laughed—fully this time. A soft, real, bright sound that filled the room and made Nagi shift to look up at you like it was his favorite melody. He pressed his face against your thigh and closed his eyes again, satisfied.
And for once, with Reo’s chaos and Nagi’s sleepy weight grounding you, everything just… clicked.
The tension was gone.
The fear, the doubt, the silence—it had all broken the night before.
Now, there was only this: morning light, your favorite people, a stupidly expensive penthouse, and a love that had finally found its way home.
You and Nagi rot in bed like two overfed stray cats.
The room smelled faintly of instant noodles and yesterday’s socks. Not that either of you cared.
You were both half-buried in the tangle of warm sheets and body heat, limbs looped and slung lazily over each other like cats too spoiled to move. The television flickered in the distance, something loud and animated, playing to no audience.
Nagi’s head rested on your chest, hair slightly greasy, lashes heavy with sleep. His hand was somewhere under your thigh, unmoving, maybe asleep. You weren’t sure. You hadn’t checked in hours.
Your mouth moved slowly, chewing a bite of karaage that had gone cold fifteen minutes ago. You didn’t mind. You were already horizontal, and chewing was the most energy you’d expended all day.
“Open,” you mumbled, leaning your head toward him.
He cracked one eye open, saw the chewed bite waiting on your tongue, and opened his mouth with the same lazy obedience he gave his coach on practice days.
You tilted your head and fed him like a bird.
He didn’t blink. Just closed his lips around it and swallowed.
“…’s good,” he muttered, then let out a small sigh and burrowed deeper into the crook of your shoulder.
You reached blindly for your phone, knocked over a water bottle, and gave up halfway. It could stay on the floor. Everything could stay on the floor.
“I think I peed a little when I sneezed earlier,” you murmured.
“Don’t care,” he said into your armpit. “Still love you.”
You smiled lazily, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, lips barely brushing the white mess of hair.
“I think we’re rotting.”
“Rot with me.”
You were already sinking into the mattress like it was quicksand made for two, but you leaned forward just enough to grab another piece from the greasy carton balanced on your stomach. A bit of rice clung to your sleeve. You didn’t brush it off.
“Your turn,” you said, voice gravelly with sleep and dehydration.
Nagi made a noise, something between a groan and a whine, but he shifted, barely, raising his head a few inches. He opened his mouth, let you place the cold chicken in, and started chewing with slow, sluggish bites.
When he was done, he blinked once, like a sleepy cat who’d just realized it still had one final thing to do, and leaned forward, catching your mouth in a kiss.
You barely had time to process it before his tongue slid against yours, the half-chewed food passed between you with all the intimacy of a love letter written in crumbs and spit.
You accepted it. Obviously.
He pulled back with a small, satisfied hum.
You swallowed.
“That’s disgusting,” you said, breath warm against his lips.
“Yeah,” he whispered, gaze heavy-lidded. “You like it.”
And you did.
His head dropped back to your shoulder, a sigh slipping out of him. But when his thigh shifted against yours beneath the blanket, you felt it.
A twitch.
You knew Nagi well enough to recognize the signs. The lazy roll of his hips, the barely-there hum at the back of his throat, the way his breath hitched for just a second longer than usual.
You tilted your head, smirking faintly.
“Seriously?” you muttered, amused. “Over that?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just gave a slow blink, then let his hand drift, casual and completely unhurried, down your side, resting low on your hip.
“You chewed for me,” he murmured, voice low and sleep-warm. “You love me like an animal.”
You snorted. “That’s the bar?”
“Mmh.” His thumb brushed your skin, lazy as ever. “S’romantic.”
You rolled onto your side, pressing closer, the greasy food carton flopping to the floor with a dull thud. Nagi didn’t even flinch. You were pressed against him now, skin to skin under the thin blanket, and yeah, you could feel him. Not fully hard. Just… interested.
“Too tired to do anything about it,” you whispered, grinning.
“So am I,” he agreed. “But it’s the thought that counts.”
You leaned in again. Kissed his jaw. Bit his earlobe, soft and playful.
He groaned.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he muttered, eyes still closed, breath catching slightly.
You didn’t respond. Just slid your leg between his, tangling even tighter beneath the covers, warm and lazy and in love and maybe a little disgusting.
But Nagi pulled you closer, lips ghosting the corner of your mouth, and whispered:
“…Rot with me forever.”
You smiled.
“Only if you keep chewing half my food.”
“Deal.”
His lips brushed the corner of your mouth again, then lingered. A ghost of a kiss. A second one, slower. Then a third, half-lidded and uncoordinated like neither of you could be bothered to move your mouths right. But you didn’t need precision.
You opened for him like you always did, and he kissed you the same way he played, messy, quiet, maddeningly patient. Tongue lazy. Mouth slow. Hands not even touching you right, just resting on your hips like he was too tired to care and too in love to stop.
He pulled back just barely, lips still grazing yours.
“Wanna come,” he whispered.
You smiled, breath fogging between you.
“Then come,” you murmured. “I’ll do the thinking for both of us.”
He laughed under his breath, a single huff through his nose.
“Tell me something hot.”
You tilted your head.
“I’d let you fuck me without brushing your teeth.”
He groaned. Face crumpling slightly. “You’re so disgusting.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
You shifted your hips against him, slow. Barely-there friction, the kind that made both of you sigh instead of moan. His cock was hard now, nestled against your stomach, and you didn’t even have to look, you could feel the way it throbbed between you, lazy and leaking and trapped under soft layers of sleep-sweat and old laundry.
“I’d let you come in me,” you said, voice low, words brushing his ear. “And then not clean up. Just roll over and fall asleep with your cum inside me.”
His breath stuttered.
“You’re gonna kill me.”
“You started it.”
Another kiss. Tongues touching. Saliva trading places like secrets. You pressed your thighs together tighter, chasing a lazy kind of friction. Enough to warm you. Enough to tease.
Nagi groaned again, longer this time, broken.
“Say something else.”
“I’d let you fuck me while we’re both wearing the same shirt.”
“God.”
Nagi’s hips rolled against your thigh, just once, slow, needy like his body was moving without asking permission. His cock slid along your skin, slick at the tip, leaving a warm trail where it pressed. His breath caught, head dropping to your shoulder.
Your hand drifted down his back, under the hem of his shirt and stopped just above the waistband of his boxers. He shivered.
Then his hand slipped between your legs.
Palm flat. Fingers slow. The softest kind of pressure. Enough to make your thighs twitch and your breath hitch, but not enough to get you there. Not yet.
You moaned quietly, nose brushing his jaw. “More.”
He didn’t answer, just moved his fingers a little lower, dipping past the edge of your underwear, stroking through your wetness like he was testing the temperature of bathwater. Like he wanted to drown in it.
You were already grinding down, chasing the contact, the friction, the anything, but it was so slow it barely counted. Just the drag of his fingers and the subtle weight of his cock nudging your hip as he rocked with you, lazily, again and again.
His lips found your neck.
Not kissing. Just breathing.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered.
You smiled against his cheek. “I told you. You started it.”
“You’re warm everywhere,” he said, voice hoarse now, rough around the edges. “Like… too much.”
You rolled your hips again, this time grinding against his hand in a slow, obscene circle. His fingers slipped inside you without resistance. Just one at first. Then two. His palm pressed tight against your clit.
You gasped. He groaned.
“I’m not gonna last,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “Fuck—”
“You don’t have to,” you said sweetly, wrapping your leg around his waist to pull him closer. “Just make me come first.”
“I’m trying—” His voice broke on the word as you clenched around his fingers, tight. Wet. Needy.
He kissed your mouth again, messy, open, tongues dragging while you rutted against his hand and he rutted against your thigh like an animal in heat.
“Fuck, I wanna be in you,” Nagi groaned, the words slurred against your mouth like he didn’t even mean to say them out loud.
You whimpered, the sound catching in your throat.
“Then do it,” you whispered, grinding down harder on his hand. “I’m right here.”
He pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning at the wet sound it made, your slick clinging to his skin. He stared at them for half a second like he was dazed, then brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes half-lidded and blown wide.
“You taste so good,” he mumbled.
You shoved at his shoulder.
“Sei—please—”
“Okay, okay.” His breath hitched as he fumbled with the waistband of his boxers, lazy and clumsy and half-drunk on you. He didn’t even fully take them off. Just pushed them down enough to free his cock, leaking at the tip.
He lined himself up, the head brushing against your entrance.
Then paused.
You looked up, impatient, dizzy.
“What now?”
He leaned in, kissed you again, slower than ever. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. Then he mumbled:
“Still wanna wear the same shirt?”
You laughed breathless, hot, overwhelmed.
And then he pushed in. All the way.
One, long, slow, inch-by-inch glide that made your mouth fall open and your fingers claw at his back.
No thrust. No rhythm.
Just him, deep inside you, warm and thick and twitching from how tight you were around him.
He didn’t move. Just groaned into your neck, hips flush against yours, cock buried so deep it felt like breathing him in.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m gonna come so fast.”
“You’re not allowed to,” you whispered back, clenching around him on purpose. “Not until I do.”
He whimpered.
Like you’d broken something in him.
Because when he finally pulled back and thrust again, just once, it felt like the kind of slow ruin meant for two.
You gasped, arms tightening around his back, legs hooking higher on his hips to keep him close. To keep him in.
Your fingers slid through his hair, damp and sticking to his forehead. You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then right under his ear where you knew it made him twitch.
“Move for me, Sei.”
He did.
Slower than anything.
One roll of his hips.
Then another.
A drag so deep and slow it had your breath hitching and your nails digging crescent moons into his back.
“Shit,” he muttered, mouth pressed against your shoulder. “You feel—fuck, you feel too good.”
You caught his mouth in another kiss, slow, filthy, your tongue brushing his like it wasn’t a kiss so much as a shared breath. His lips were soft. Wet. Unguarded.
“Baby…” you whispered between kisses, lips barely pulling back. “You’re so deep. You make me so fucking full.”
His hips bucked slow but sharp like he couldn’t help it.
You smiled into the kiss.
“There it is,” you purred. “That messy little grind when I talk pretty to you.”
“Don’t,” he whispered, voice cracked open. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna lose it.”
“Not yet,” you murmured, dragging your mouth across his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “You’re gonna stay right here. Giving it to me slow and deep.”
He moaned again and rocked his hips forward, burying himself inside you to the hilt.
“You like being inside me when I talk like this?” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Like being fucked with my mouth and my cunt at the same time?”
He groaned high and broken and so damn desperate, and nodded into your neck, eyes clenched shut.
“Say it,” you breathed.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “God—yeah. I like it. I love it.”
You kissed him again, sweet and devastating.
Then pulled back, just enough to whisper it, wrecked and honest.
“Take me there, Sei.”
His breath caught. You felt it. Right where your chests were pressed together, his heart stuttering under your palm like it was trying to claw its way out.
“I—fuck—okay.”
His voice was rough, thick with everything he couldn’t say, the want, the overwhelm, the love so heavy it pressed against every nerve.
He adjusted his grip on you, finally grabbing, finally holding, one hand under your thigh, the other cradling your jaw like he had to anchor you or he’d fall apart first.
Then he started to move again.
Still slow. Still deep.
But deliberate now. Carving.
Every thrust dragged his cock over that soft, swollen spot inside you, and you clung to him with a strangled gasp, like your body couldn’t decide whether to curl away or melt into him completely.
“Sei—”
“I got you,” he whispered. “Just let go. Let me take you there.”
Your nails bit into his shoulder. His hips stuttered.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, forehead falling against yours. “So warm. Like you were made to keep me.”
“I was,” you gasped. “I am. I’m yours.”
That did it.
He slammed into you once, deep, helpless, all the way, and you shattered with a cry, your whole body going tight around him as you came.
He cursed, choked, and followed you over the edge a second later, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled into you with a broken moan of your name.
“Fuck, fuck—fuck—”
And then—
Just breathing. Shaking. The sound of your heartbeats tangled like your legs, like your souls, like the mess cooling between you.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t pull out. Didn’t even try.
Just stayed where he was, heavy and warm on top of you, cock still inside, still leaking, still twitching every now and then like his body couldn’t bear to stop touching you.
You weren’t going anywhere either.
Your fingers were in his hair again, lazily combing through the soft white strands sticking to his forehead. Your chest rose and fell against his. Your thighs stayed open around his hips.
“I’m leaking,” you whispered with a lazy smile, voice full of fondness.
“Mmh,” he mumbled, face smushed against your shoulder. “Stay like that. Keep it warm.”
You laughed softly, kissed the top of his head.
“You’re so gross.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You like it.”
“I do.”
Another quiet beat.
His arm tightened around your waist. His voice came low, barely above a whisper, like it slipped out before he could think better of it.
“…I’m in love with you.”
“I know,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the curve of his ear. “Me too.”
You felt him smile against your skin. Felt the tension leave his shoulders all at once, like he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it.
He shifted slightly and buried his face deeper into your chest.
“Gonna marry you,” he mumbled.
You smiled, eyes barely open, voice thick with sleep and love.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Just stay inside me a little longer first.”
He let out the quietest sound, half a laugh, half a sigh, and buried his face deeper into your neck.
nagi was lazy. you knew that. reo knew that. everyone knew that.
so of course, you weren’t surprised when nagi refused to help you with the dishes. “that’s too much of a hassle…” he mumbled from his bed, game console in hand. “playing zelda. ‘m busy.”
you sighed. “the dishes aren’t going to wash themselves, nagi. then our entire place is going to smell like shit, and we won’t be able to use the sink. c’mon, nagi, i always do the dishes. can you do it just this once?”
“you sound like maid barou right now. it’s too much of a hassle.” nagi retorted. why was he so tired anyway? he played soccer with reo maybe once or twice a week, he lazed around all day and just played video games.
“sei, please.”
nagi froze, sitting up almost immediately. “alright, alright,” he commented, making his way to the sink and rolling up to sink. “just let me play in peace after i’m done, m’kay?” he drawled.
“thanks, sei. love you.” you didn’t point it out, but a pink hue dusted his cheeks as he washed the dishes.
“nagi, do i look good?” you asked, stepping out of the changing room. nagi sat on a plush chair, console stuck in his hand. “nagi!”
“huh? oh, you look fine. let’s go.” he replied, not even looking at you. you rolled your eyes, snatching his console. “that was uncalled for.” he gave you a deadpan look.
“sei, babe, how do i look?” you asked again. he blinked a few times, before his eyes widened just a few degrees.
“you look great.” he blurted. “let’s get one of every color.” nagi stood up, before practically falling on you, wrapping his arms around you like a koala. “yeah, you should totally get this.”
“you sounded like reo just now.”
“mmmm, yeah, but you’d never call reo something so cute…” he replied sleepily. “angel, let’s just get this and go home, m’kay? i wanna nap. with you.”
“nagi, can you please stay for just 5 more minutes?” you asked, eyes barely open. it was practically the crack of dawn; nagi was usually never awake this early. not unless a certain purple haired rat scolded him again.
“can’t, babe. reo’s gonna get mad again. it’s a hassle to deal with him when he’s pissed off.” nagi slouched, halfway through taking off his shirt. you pouted; you had today off. was it so wrong to want to stay in bed a little longer with your lover?
“sei, can you—“
“you don’t have to ask twice, angel.” he responded immediately, dropping next to you on the bed once more. he slung an arm over you, nuzzling into your neck.
“what about reo?” you asked, stroking his hair tiredly, although a small tug of your lips suggested victory.
“reo can wait. you can too, angel, but i don’t want you too…” nagi was half-asleep already, just from laying down next to you. “and i can’t say no when you call me something so cute.”
“so it’s not a hassle to do things as long as i call you sei?”
“no, never.” he planted a lazy kiss on your shoulder. “it’s only a hassle if i don’t like it. and i like you. a lot. and i like it when you call me that. a lot. so it’s not a hassle.”
Summary | You should’ve known better than to bring a mysterious plant aboard the Going Merry. When you run into some strange side effects from its pollen, Sanji offers to lend you a hand.
Warnings & Notes | 18+, fem!reader, sex pollen, smut, porn with v little plot, friends-to-lovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), some spit play, lil bit of dirty talk, unprotected sex (oops sanji cums inside)
Author's Note | Impatiently awaiting the release of S2 got me inspired to write a personal favorite trope of mine. I've never written a sex pollen fic before, so I hope everyone's happy with the results (and that I got Sanji's characterization right lol)!
WC | 8.2k
God, you were so stupid. As the crew’s botanist, it was your job to know plants, to determine what was safe or deadly, what could serve as a salve or a poison.
Yet, the flower you encountered on a recent stop to an exotic port - beautiful, bright, and fragrant - left you perplexed. You couldn’t identify it immediately, and your curiosity got the better of you, so you eagerly brought it aboard the Going Merry for study.
And now, you understood why the salesperson seemed to be laughing at you as they happily accepted your coin; you should’ve known that something so pretty would be dangerous.
The damned thing was an aphrodisiac, a kind of strange stimulant that you’d never encountered before. Once you’d finally found an entry on it amidst the pages of your botanical reference books, your stomach dropped with dread. You’d had the plant aboard the ship for days, though thankfully it had been secluded to the closet serving as your sad excuse for a room - you were cramped in there with your books and tools and that stupid flower, none the wiser to what it was slowly doing to you.
You’d been exposed to its pollen for days, breathing it into your lungs as you pondered over it, touching the delicate petals and coming away with soft grain on your fingertips. At least you weren’t dumb enough to have ever thought about consuming any part of the plant - that would have made things truly unbearable, as you’d come to learn that that was the fastest means for its reactions to take hold.
At first, you thought maybe the flower wouldn’t have any effect on you, considering that you hadn’t felt any different in those days isolated with it. And even once you’d found another entry in your encyclopedia detailing its slow burn results, you thought that perhaps you’d incorrectly assessed it, again because you felt nothing.
But after three days around the thing you felt… something. A twisting in your stomach, a heat stoking at your core. You tried to ignore it as the day went on, but with each passing minute you could feel something taking over - Usopp’s smile made you antsy and nervous, Nami’s pretty legs crossing one over the other shot desire through you like lightning. Shit, you had no business getting all worked up about your friends like that, but it was simply out of your control.
And it only got worse when Sanji tried his usually fruitless flirty tactics, lingering close enough that you could smell his enticing musk, his suddenly silky voice forcing you to clench your legs. Once that happened, you all but booked it away from everyone else and locked yourself up, only leaving your room to chuck the offensive flower overboard in a panic. There was no way you’d risk keeping it here even a second longer, because just your luck the pollen could somehow get to the rest of the crew, too.
You’d already been cooped up in your room for an entire day, feigning illness. Everyone had stopped bothering you after you practically screamed at them to get the hell away from you. Save for Sanji, annoyingly, who simply couldn’t help but check in on you regularly, offering food and drink and even company.
Sanji had probably done so a dozen times before you couldn’t take it anymore.
You caved to your impulses, throwing open your door and yanking him inside abruptly. You pinned him against the door, hands twisted in the front of his jacket, eyes crazed as you looked into his face. You could feel his body heat, could smell him overwhelmingly. Sanji - blissfully unaware of the state you were in - looked far too pleased to be pressed between you and the door, eyes gleaming and grin cheeky.
You loathed to tell him what was going on - you didn’t want any of your fellow Straw Hats to know about this embarrassing predicament you’d landed yourself in. The plan was to stay locked up until it passed, but Sanji just wouldn’t leave you alone.
“Look asshole,” You spoke through your teeth, body clenching at that stupid smile on his face, a wave of heat washing through you, “there’s… an issue and it’d be better if you stopped bothering me.”
“An issue?” Shit, was his voice always that hot? Despite the twisting in your belly, your glower darkened in an attempt to dampen this ridiculous pining.
Frustratingly, his wolfish grin grew larger, and with a sharp intake of breath, you dropped your gaze before you could do something bad, “Yes, an issue, and it’s not your business, so go away.”
“You don’t look so good,” Sanji began, tone sultry - or was that just in your head? As if he was testing your limits, he lifted the back of his hand to your forehead, and you all but jumped with a gasp, “God, you’re on fire. Maybe a little tea to make you feel better?”
“No.” You relinquished your grip on his jacket, needing as much distance between you two as possible, though this damn room was so cramped it wasn’t nearly enough. Sanji looked you up and down curiously, and even that had the unfortunate effect of causing desire to pool white hot inside you.
“Soup?” He offered in a taunting voice, evidently finding your current state amusing, not realizing the enormity of it. His brow furrowed some as he moved towards you, to which you pointed in harsh warning.
“Sanji, just go.” You insisted, trying to resist your urge to jump his bones, to drag him back towards you without restraint.
Though still grinning impishly, he held his hands up in surrender, and, shit, that look on his face dared to make you wet, “I don’t like seeing your beautiful self unwell like this, I’m just trying to take care of you.”
Unexpectedly, you moaned at Sanji’s words; his flirtatious remarks had never worked on you before, and you so wished you’d had more control than this.
Your illicit sound caused both your eyes and Sanji’s to widen, and shamefully you tried to step back, but your legs bumped your mattress, meaning you had nowhere to run as you looked about yourself in a panic.
Though there was uncertainty in his gaze, Sanji’s eyes still gleamed with mirth, he still smirked with playful intent. He gave you another slow once over, eyes crawling the length of your body; you had to press your lips tightly together to hold back any more noises that dared to come out of you, your thighs clamping stiffly.
When his gaze eventually trailed back up to meet yours, you clenched your hands, nails digging into your palms, feeling tense all over with how desperate you were for some kind of release. There was something salacious about Sanji’s stare - you could no longer tell if it was real or your imagination. As if he could sense the effect he was having on you, he grinned wickedly.
“If you do need anything,” he started, voice so much more appealing than it had any right to be. He took a careful step towards you, looking between your eyes intently, “you know where to find me.”
A small whine caught in your throat, and you prayed it was quiet enough to be imperceptible. You had to drop your gaze, feeling utterly flushed with heat. But your luck had already run out for the day, because Sanji dipped his head some, and you caught that alluring musk of him again, making you stir.
“What is going on with you?” He teased before stepping back. He turned, hand twisting the door knob when you abruptly blurted out.
“That stupid flower did something to me!” Your words came out fast, slurring together; you weren’t sure what came over you to babble without a thought, but the pollen had seriously dampened your impulse control.
Sanji stopped and quickly spun back towards you. No longer was his expression flirtatious; instead, his brow knotted in concern, his hands grasping your shoulders before you even had the chance to stall him. You took a sharp breath, heat coursing deep in your center and head flustered from his touch.
“What do you mean? Are you okay?” Sanji’s worried tone just made you crave him even more, his instinct to take care of you way too enticing right now; fuck, when would this pass?
“I’m fine,” You squeaked out, thighs rubbing together desperately, “It's just…”
“It’s what?” With a focused look, Sanji felt your forehead again, then pressed his hand gently to your cheek, “You really are on fire, love, maybe we need--”
Again, your words spilled out like a tsunami, “I need you to stop touching me or I’m going to lose it!”
But Sanji didn’t move, so taken aback that he wasn’t sure what to do with you. His expression twisted that little bit more, driving you insane.
“Sorry, what?”
“The plant!” You grabbed his wrists, sure that you must look like a crazed woman right about now. You tried to push Sanji away, but he stood firm, “The pollen was an aphrodisiac and I’ve been unintentionally dosing myself with it for days! So, please Sanji, I feel like I’m about to burst and it's already embarrassing enough that I told you, so go!”
Sanji showed about a hundred emotions in the span of only a few seconds - worry, confusion, understanding, confusion again, until ultimately landing on that dreaded, impish inquisitiveness of his. You could see the exact moment it all clicked, that gleam of delight at your expense, that relishing curiosity. You practically threw his wrists away when you realized that you were still clutching them, groaning deeply with frustration.
Oh, how you loathed the glee in Sanji’s expression; you’d try to slap it away, except you feared doing so would just make you wetter than you already were. As he looked you over again with that trademark grin, you clenched your legs again, toes curling.
“Aphrodisiac?” Was he taunting you? “So that means--”
“Yes, it means I’m horny, okay!?” You hated how feral and aggressive you sounded, hated the way your attitude only seemed to bring him greater entertainment. With a dramatic, vulgar sigh, you dragged your hands down your face, turning away; when your shoulder bumped Sanji’s in your retreat, you jolted with a gasp.
“Well, isn’t that something?” God, he was enjoying this far too much.
“Sanji--!”
“Wait, wait.” He insisted. You closed your eyes, trying to take a soothing breath, but your body just wouldn’t calm down, the desire burning inside you only grew hotter now that he was in on your secret, “How long is this going to last?”
“I really don’t feel like talking about it right now!”
“I’m only asking--” You cut him off with a mean groan, whipping back around to glare at him. Once more, he held up his hands, but the shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make you throb. He waited a beat before trying again, licking his lips far too sinfully for your liking, “Maybe… I can help?”
“Oh my god.” You whined, your body yearning in spite of your better judgement, his suggestion making your pussy clench with the need to be touched. Foolishly, you met his eyes, which only did the job of making you want to throw yourself at him, “Sanji, don’t be stupid--”
“Is it stupid?” He insisted, stepping into your personal space again, your head dizzy with yearning. He ducked his head, eyes staring into yours earnestly, a look not quite like his usual coy ones, “Because, look, would I enjoy a little romp with you? Obviously.” You mewled smally, to which surprise briefly flashed across Sanji’s face, “So, if you think it might help, then by all means, just say so.”
You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your desire in check, because you feared that you could burst any second now. Though you tried desperately to look mean and glaring, you felt far from intimidating; if that wanton look on Sanji’s face was anything to go by, then you failed miserably.
You wished that you wanted to say no. Oh, that would be so much better than agreeing to Sanji’s offer, because doing something like that with your crewmate - your friend - sounded like it would open up a whole new kind of trouble. But just the idea of it made you squirm, made your body coil like a spring; even just a moment’s thought about the things you could do made your eyes flutter.
You knew better than to go along with it. You weren’t so far gone that you couldn’t think, after all - you knew this could be bad. Unfortunately, the pollen had other ideas.
“No one can know.” You bite, body clenching again.
Sanji shrugged agreeably, playing it casually, “Of course.”
“And it won’t happen again.”
“Sure.”
“… Okay.”
“Okay.”
You stared at each other for a long beat, your chest heaving, Sanji’s eyes hooded as he shamelessly took in your expression.
God, you hoped you wouldn’t regret this.
The space between you was small already, the warmth of his breath across your cheeks causing you to shudder; the corner of his mouth quirked up in response, finally sending you over the edge.
You flung yourself at Sanji like a woman starved, winding your arms around his neck, bodies crashing together ungracefully. He was so damn sturdy, barely stumbling back as your lips feverishly met, teeth clumsily clashing. His arms wrapped around your middle, hands firmly gripping your back, fingers flexing possessively.
The moan that escaped you was downright sinful, your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest, body like static beneath Sanji’s exploratory touch. Fuck, you couldn’t tell if this was helping or hurting, your core hot and cunt pulsing, your jumping under his tender fingertips. It was pathetic the way you clung to him like a lifeline, bodies flush and mouths brazen.
As your fingers tangled in Sanji’s hair, a groan rumbled in his chest that made you frenzied, your kisses growing sloppier, tongue snaking between his lips. God, his taste was intoxicating, his tongue twining with yours, his hands unyielding nonetheless gentle as he groped at your body. Rolling your hips against his, you made yourself whimper at the feel of his firm chest, his pelvis pressing to yours.
Maybe you should have done this sooner.
Determined not to break from Sanji’s luscious lips just yet, you blindly spun the two of you around, his calves bumping the bed. Understanding what you wanted, he gripped you tightly while dropping down atop the mattress, drawing you into his lap as you moaned again.
Mouths heatedly pressed together, you shifted to better straddle Sanji’s fit legs, his cock twitching near your center. If your head wasn’t already spinning you may have been embarrassed by how wet you were, soaking through your panties.
Sanji’s hands wandered, squeezing your ass hard enough to make you gasp, using his grip to grind your hips down against his. You tugged roughly at his hair as you moved together, rutting back and forth along his growing length, clenching with the need to be filled.
Your mouths were greedy, tongues feverish, kissing as if desperate for one another’s air, noisy sounds of pleasure humming in both your throats. Sanji’s hips bucked just right beneath you, meeting you in time with the deep grind of your hot pussy.
When finally he broke from the kiss, a string of drool connected your lips, a whine sounding from your throat. Keeping up his slow, steady rhythm, Sanji met your eyes darkly, drinking you in with utter desire; you damn near came just from that look alone.
“However you want me,” he whispered against your lips, noses brushing, breath mingling. Your hips stuttered, to which he greedily grasped your ass and matched your rhythms again, “Yours to do with as you please.”
“Fuck--” You couldn’t help but gasp, feeling impossibly more turned on. You almost hated him for how damn effortlessly those sultry words came to him, grinding your hips roughly against his cock, delighting in the way his eyes momentarily crossed, “Promise?”
A short, lustful laugh escaped Sanji, his fingers groping you nice and tight, “Like this, love, I’d promise you anything.”
Another desirous sound whined in your throat as you captured his lips in a searing kiss, fire scorching bright inside you. Hips rutting rapaciously, your hands wandered down his neck and torso, shoving at his jacket as if it personally offended you. Urgently, Sanji threw it off before he grasped at you again, not wanting to lose a moment of exploring your body.
The flex of his muscles beneath your hands was maddening, taut and strong and just asking to be bit and kissed. You frantically worked the buttons of his shirt, nearly popping them as you worked your way down, down, down till the damned thing was open. Your fingers slid along Sanji’s washboard abs, causing you to groan because, fuck, this was the body he’d kept covered up all this time?
As if you couldn’t trust your touch, you split from Sanji’s lips to lean back and drink in the sight of his body, hissing desirously at how damn good he looked. Your nails scratched up his sides, over his pecs and abs, and when your lustful eyes turned back towards his, you practically keened at the focused way he was watching you.
Holding eye contact, you leaned down to nip at his chest, causing him to yelp; your body tightened as you giggled hungrily, mouth trailing up his collarbone and neck, kissing just below his jaw. Sanji leaned his head back as he twitched between your legs, letting you ravage his skin, biting and sucking and kissing to your hearts content, hickeys or teeth marks be damned.
As you all but consumed him, Sanji’s hands slid up the back of your shirt, palms hot as he traced your skin, arching into his touch. Both of your hips had fallen out of rhythm, and so Sanji reached up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you away so he could meet your eyes again.
“Let me touch you.” It sounded like both a question and an instruction, your cunt tight with utter desire. You nodded, catching your breath, and then Sanji abruptly flipped you onto your back.
Splayed on the bed, you ogled as Sanji brushed back his hair and dropped his shirt to the floor. You bit your lip, eyes hooded as he crawled over you; he pressed a single, dizzying kiss to your mouth, pulling back before you could latch onto him again.
As if understanding your urgency to be touched, Sanji’s hands reached beneath your shirt again, yanking it over your head speedily, exposing your hot skin to the cool air before he did the same thing with your shorts. You wiggled under his wandering gaze, drinking in every curve and blemish of your body like you were a three-course meal.
He lowered his mouth to your chest, biting your breast as you had done to him earlier; you bucked and gasped, feeling his smile against you. He sucked at your skin, insistently creating a hickey just above your bra, meanwhile reaching between your warm bodies, fingertips grazing over your pelvis, to which you whined.
Sanji sighed longingly as his hand moved lower and lower, teasing at you through your thin, damp panties; you clenched with a wanton mewl, desperate for so much more of him. Kissing far too tenderly over the hickey he left behind, his mouth trailed down, tongue gliding a wet trail along your stomach, ghosting along the flimsy fabric keeping him from you. For a moment, you held your breath, hands eagerly twisting in the bedsheets.
Hooking his fingers in your panties, Sanji tugged them down to your ankles, his hot breath teasing near your clit as you shucked the undergarment away with a wiggle of your foot.
He lingered painstakingly, and you looked down your nose at him, brow knotted with impatience, mouth agape as you sucked in a breath of air. His eyes were large and black with lust as he, too, glanced back towards you, expression both sweet yet taunting. You were tempted to reach out and grab his hair, to guide him towards you, but even in this fervor you managed to refrain, though you weren’t sure how long that flimsy self control would last.
“Look at you…” He sounded awestruck, and the lust in his tone made longing swirl tight around your heat, toes curling.
Now, you did reach out, fingers weaving into his hair a little more roughly than intended; it felt as if you had less control the more your desire continued to stew.
“Sanji, please.” You whispered keenly. The sound of his name on your lips like that stirred something deep in him, his gaze dark and craving, “I… shit, I need you.”
He grinned wickedly, though even the taunting in his tone was flirtatious, “About to come undone already?”
You nodded, eyes pleading, “I’m like a fucking cat in heat.”
Sanji chuckled, breathing hot against your clit, causing you to twitch, “Oh, love, I’ve got you.”
And with that, he plunged a finger inside you without warning, a surprised mewl leaping from your lips as you threw your head back. God, there was no way in hell that alone could feel so good, and yet your eyes crossed, hand flexing in Sanji’s hair. He, too, groaned at the feel of you as if utterly enthralled.
Under his breath, he groaned faintly; you were so wet, clenching around his finger, making his cock twitch in his trousers. He pumped once, twice, before sliding a second digit between your slick folds with ease, wasting no time or teasing; your body was so utterly ready for him that it was intoxicating.
The pace of his thrusts steadily picked up, your hips rolling with his movements, gasps escaping your parted lips. Your head lulled, swimming with lust as your body pulsed around him, limbs twisting pleasurably.
Fingering you greedily, the scent of your desire hit Sanji, his hips bucking against your leg in need of friction.You felt nearly pathetic, the way you rocked against his hand, the way you writhed with moaning satisfaction. Even his heavy breathing, hot on your inner thigh, sent burning waves up your spine; and when he pressed the heel of his palm against your clit, you fucking shuddered.
God, you thought this would help, but Sanji’s fingers buried inside your cunt only seemed to make you wetter and needier, as if nothing would be enough to satiate you. And when he spread his fingers wide, stretching you out deliciously, you cursed that damned plant, even as pleasured whines slipped past your lips.
As he fingered you nice and deep, Sanji’s mouth trailed hot, wet kisses along the inside of your leg, sighing contently at the taste of your salty skin on his tongue. His fingers hooked, curving up into your cervix, palm steadily massaging your clit as you keened unabashedly, toes curling and knees shaking, yanking roughly at his hair. With a hiss, he bit your flesh, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to surprise you, your hips bucking again.
“Fu-uck--!” You whined, his hand unrelenting as your eyes crossed, orgasm washing over you with a surge. For that split second, it was utter bliss, vision starry and limbs melting; but like some cruel joke, your body almost immediately grew tense and tight and desperately unfulfilled again.
That stupid plant.
You tugged encouragingly at Sanji’s hair, meeting his gaze over the swell of your heaving breasts - he was still knuckles deep inside you, eyes blown and an enthralled grin on his lips. You caught your breath, pussy clamping around his fingers, causing him to moan deep inside his chest; your body shook from the aftershocks of pleasure.
“I need more,” You instructed breathily, more like a plea than anything else. You felt as if your body was crawling, causing shakes and pulses, a twisting heat growing so big inside you that it hurt. Oh, that small bit of logic still within you was embarrassed at the way you were practically begging Sanji, needing him to make you feel good.
“My pleasure…” He said huskily, immediately tossing all of your embarrassment out the window because, fuck, he was so hot right now, making you feel so good, taking care of you like this--
Then his mouth was on your clit in the next instant, and you could have fucking burst right then and there. Your hips bucked up against his warm tongue, Sanji using his free hand to keep you down, fingers flexing in the fat of your thigh. A contented hum vibrated in his throat and your pussy, making your knees quake.
Bursts of pleasure pulsed through you as Sanji sucked your clit, his fingers continuing their wanton pumping, slower and deeper than before, pressing delectably against your cervix again now that he realized just how frenzied it made you. Your hand twisted in his hair, pulling eagerly as your hips rocked against his mouth, eyes rolling back with sinful mewls. Fuck, his tongue was goddamn perfect, swirling where you were most sensitive, lapping from pussy to clit, teasing as he slowly pulled his fingers from you before plunging back in.
Your legs were already shaking again, buzzing with satisfaction; Sanji groaned deeply at the sweet taste of you, and your knees nearly clamped around his head with a gasp.
His fingers stopped pumping, pulling out of you so he could ravage your pussy with his mouth instead. You jolted as his tongue dove between your folds, his hands tightly grabbing your legs to keep you still.
You threw your head back, drool pooling on your tongue as you rode against Sanji’s mouth, tugging his hair harshly, struggling to keep your legs spread for him. He consumed you like a man starved, licking along the strip of your cunt, diving into you, nipping your clit. Every single touch was like electricity shooting through your veins, body twitching and jumping, at the will of Sanji’s touch.
His tongue was feverish, growing sloppier and more insistent, fucking in and out of you, his own hungry sounds driving you crazy. Your body felt out of your control as you writhed, legs shaky in Sanji’s hands, hips stuttering with each lap of his tongue, fingers twisting tightly in his hair.
“Fuck, please, please--!” You muttered a nearly incoherent mantra as your hips rolled greedily, hands tugging harshly at his scalp. Sanji knew exactly what he was doing to you, mouth gaining urgency, causing your legs to nearly clasp around him again; but still, he kept them wide open in his grip. The titillation was practically unbearable as you wiggled beneath him, crying with delight, quaking as your vision went black with another earth shattering orgasm.
As you came, eyes crossed and expletives escaping you, Sanji continued his ravaging, eating you out as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste. The stimulation was nearly overwhelming, whining high in your throat, hands yanking at his hair again and again because you felt so damn good that it nearly hurt.
He finally relented, coming up for a gasp of air. His lips were shiny with your slick as he grinned wickedly, delighting in your blissed out expression while crawling up your body.
Catching your breath, that scorching heat reignited like an unscratchable itch, causing you to groan desperately in Sanji’s face. He chuckled, an enticing rumble in his chest that made your body ache for him. You could smell your fragrance on his mouth as he hovered over you, arms braced either side of your head as your noses brushed.
“You alright, love?” He spoke against your lips, the taste of yourself drawing another hum from inside you.
You wound your arms tight around Sanji’s neck, catching his lips in an impassioned, feverish kiss. Hooking your ankles around the back of his legs, you drew his body atop yours, rolling your hips against his straining erection and causing him to grunt. Your tongue snaked past his lips, tasting yourself everywhere.
As you rubbed your body with his, Sanji’s hand cupped your jaw with a surprising tenderness. There was something almost romantic about it, and you found that thought so intimidating that you abruptly broke away from the kiss, darkened eyes finding his urgently.
You ached again, the lustful needs of your body feeling like a drug high, pussy still wet and desperate, an ache coiling greedily within you. Sanji’s dick teased you through his trousers, and you ground against it insistently.
“Sanji,” the way you whined out his name caused his cock to twitch, both of you gasping with hunger. Normally, you wouldn’t speak so plainly, but considering you weren’t exactly in your right mind, the words just spilled out of you, “It’s getting worse.” When he raised his brow, you elaborated while slowly grinding against him, “Everytime I come, I need more.”
Sanji’s jaw hung slack, enjoying the way you moved against him, enraptured by your unrestrained ache for him. His voice was low and erotic against your lips, “I told you to use me, didn’t I?”
You whined again desperately. Even as you burned for him, you managed to taunt, “Confident you can keep up?”
But even that quip conjured thoughts of all the ways he could make your body feel good, and your legs flexed hungrily around him. If you weren’t so high with need, you would have glowered at that dangerous look he gave you, but unfortunately, it just made you want him more.
“For you? Oh, I could do this all day.”
You tightened like a spring, a desperate moan in your throat as you clumsily began to fumble with Sanji’s trousers, practically ripping them off in your haste. For a moment, the two of you were an awkward tangle of limbs as he shoved out of the remainder of his clothing, skin hot and sweaty to the touch, dick grazing along your stomach and pelvis as you grew hungrier for him. Your nails raked along every bit of skin you could reach, dragging along his abs and waist, trailing down his back to the curve of his ass, where you dug in just a little.
Sanji propped himself up on his hands, drinking in the sight of you as you ripped off your bra, the final offensive article of clothing flung away blindly. You took the opportunity to cast your gaze down between you, licking your lips as you eyed Sanji’s cock, red and swollen and just right.
God, you couldn’t believe that you’d just written him off this entire time, that all this time you ignored this striking man with his wicked smile and sultry eyes, his goddamn perfect physique and--
“Droolin’, love?” He teased, drawing your eyes back up. Yes you wanted him deep inside you, you wanted to take all of him; but you weren’t so foggy with desire that you couldn’t taunt him back.
“Are you?” You ask with a jeering curve of your brow. Impulsively, you opened your mouth good and wide, sticking your tongue out flat with a look of anticipation.
Sanji let out a long breath at the sight of you like this, his eyes growing dark as he grasped your jaw. Much as you would have enjoyed him to be rougher and more domineering, it wasn’t quite in his nature; no, his grip was firm yet careful, finger and thumb squeezing your cheeks as he drew you up to meet him halfway. Without breaking eye contact, he spit into your open mouth, your body shivering, surprised that he followed through with it. You swallowed with a cheeky, flirtatious smirk.
“Fuck…” Sanji muttered, dragging you up for a brief, searing kiss. You grabbed at his hips, nails digging into his skin, growing impatient for him to make you feel good again. His lips broke from yours, pressing your foreheads together, “How do you want me?”
The question alone made you whine, cunt clenching. The instruction left your mouth before you had time to think about it, “On your back.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sanji grinned, one arm wrapping around your middle and hastily swapping places with you, sheets tangling as you nearly fell off the edge of the narrow bed.
Your head was swimming with need now that you were on hand and knee over Sanji, so hungry for him that you wasted no time ogling his body or nipping at his skin the way you normally would with a lover. No, you were desperately wet, and you needed him inside you now or else you may lose it.
You felt like an animal, the way you situated yourself over Sanji, reaching between you to give his hard cock a single pump in your hand before guiding him to your entrance.
Staring into one another’s eyes, you sat back on his dick in one slick motion, taking him to the hilt as you both groaned shamelessly, his thighs flexing beneath your ass. You lingered for a moment, cunt pulsing around him, Sanji’s hands gripping your hips, chests heaving. And as if he lit the fire inside you, you began to bounce up and down the length of his shaft.
“My god…” He growled, eyes back and fingers squeezing your hips as you bobbed on his dick, so goddamn slick and wet, bracing your hands atop his sturdy chest. He filled you so well, thick head pushing into you with each drop, sliding between your walls like he was meant to be there.
Oh, being on top was a bad idea, you realized as your eyes crossed, your neediness making you sloppy as you rolled your hips, your bouncing rhythmless as you chased your high. But it felt so good, every damn part of you, the fullness of Sanji’s cock making you dizzy, the way he stretched you out, the way he held onto you almost possessively. Shit, you couldn’t tell what felt best because you were so sensitive, going wild for how deep he reached, for the way his head caught inside you because he couldn’t pull out at this angle, the bit of pressure against your clit each time you moved.
You leaned back, steadying your palms just above Sanji’s knees, the shift causing his dick to meet your cervix, your head lulling back with a cry. You ground your hips in an eager, hectic pattern, clenching and whining at how full you were, gasping as Sanji bucked up into you to get that little bit deeper.
Shit, you were too horny and wet, that damned pollen making you feel like you were on the verge again, every minuscule movement felt good enough to make you cum already. And you knew you would, over and over again, Sanji’s cock fitting like a glove, thrusting against your sensitive clit, filling you to the brim--
“Fucking made for me--” You whimper like a woman possessed as you cum suddenly, abruptly, overwhelmingly. Your nails dug into Sanji’s thighs, body going rigid as you stared up at the ceiling. He twitched inside you, the both of you moaning together at the sensation. If you had the wherewithal, you would have been embarrassed by the thing you blurted out, by the fact that you came so fast again, but already desire was winding back through your body with no end in sight.
“Another one already, love?” Sanji whispered with a mystified grin, lazily rocking his hips with yours, hands trailing up to grope your waist and breasts. All you could do was hum with satisfaction, back arching as he tweaked your nipples. He gave a particularly deep, calculated thrust into you, delighting in the way you mewled, “Ah, but you’re not done yet.”
“Not even close.” You challenged, even as your voice wavered.
Sanji squeezed your breasts firmly, urging you to lean down towards him; he kissed you chastely before dipping his head, your back arching as his tongue swirled one of your peaked nipples.
As he bit and sucked at your breast, his hand massaged your other; his hips slowly began to thrust up into you again. Whimpers spilled past your lips over and over, Sanji’s cock hitting you a little harder each time, his tongue and teeth on your nipple causing your head to spin.
His hands trailed down to grab your ass while his mouth continued ravaging you, giving one cheek a firm slap before pressing you down on his cock. You were so hungry for him, needing more even with him balls deep, needing him like fresh water.
Sanji sucked a dark hickey on the inside of your breast, lips popping as he broke away from your skin. When he looked up at you through his lashes, you cupped his jaw and kissed him earnestly, which was far too intimate considering that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. The thrust of his hips faltered for a moment, as if he, too, realized the warmth of it, but he quickly sped up his rhythm as if to compensate, skin slapping skin as you groaned into one another’s mouths.
When you gasped for air, you kept your forehead to Sanji’s, the angle of his pelvis rubbing against your clit making you clench and shake. His breath was hot on your lips as his cock drove into you, hand slapping your ass again just to hear you whine.
“I ne-eed--” Your voice hitched, his dick burying particularly good into you, “--need deeper.”
Sanji huffed out an ensnared laugh, thrusting inside you then lingering there. He rolled you against him, captivated by the way your pussy tightened around him, “Deeper?”
You bit down on your lip as he taunted you, grinding your hips together, “Mhm…”
Sanji’s nose grazed along your cheek and down your neck, mouth ghosting along your skin as he spoke lowly, “In that case: up.”
He stopped grinding, spanking your ass again encouragingly. You pushed yourself back to sit atop him, and Sanji’s brows rose pointedly.
“Up.” He repeated, and you then realized what he meant. You lifted off his cock, crying at how empty you were as Sanji pushed out from under you. As he stood, you eyed him up and down like a slab of meat, sighing longingly at his goddamn hypnotically perfect cock. He grasped your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him; he looked good like this, taking charge and commanding.
His gaze trailed from your eyes to your mouth then back to your eyes, a silent instruction that you eagerly obliged, opening your mouth so he could spit into it again. Your cunt tightened as his saliva hit your tongue, wet and needy for him to be back inside you.
Sanji gave you a swift kiss before releasing your chin, watching through hooded eyes as you arranged yourself doggy style before him, though your narrow bed forced you to brace your hands on the wall beside it. You peered back over your shoulder, arching your back impatiently as he simply took a moment to ogle your alluring body.
Just as you were about to whine with frustration, Sanji leaned over you, grabbing at your hips and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck. You pushed your ass back, the full head of his cock brushing against your curves; he took in a deep breath of your scent, face in your hair, causing you to shudder.
His lips were so soft and sweet along your skin - too sweet, considering the carnal need eating you from the inside out. Maybe under any other circumstances you would have enjoyed Sanji’s tenderness - not that you’d dare tell him as much - but at the moment, all you could do was groan insistently while pressing your ass back.
“Sanji, fuck me.” You urged, causing him to lift his head and meet eyes over your shoulder; you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something serious in his gaze. Just as quickly as you noticed it, though, it was gone, Sanji leaning back to regard your ass, one hand squeezing it while he grabbed his erection in the other, lining himself up with your entrance.
His head nudged at your cunt, teasing up and down the slit, prodding at your clit. Just the baiting alone made you yearn, back arching again needily. He met your eyes once more as he slowly sunk into you, this new angle causing vulgar moans to escape you as he so easily bottomed out, filling you completely. Fuck, he got so deep, head just prodding at your uterus, your pussy constricting around his girth.
He lingered, as if allowing you to adjust to his size, though you were so damn wet and high that you just wanted him to fuck you till it hurt. With a drunken look in your face, you pushed back against his hips, mewling with satisfaction, hands flexing against the splintering wall. Behind you, Sanji, too, groaned, reaching around you to swirl his fingers over your swollen clit; the sensation caused your head to lull back, falling onto his shoulder.
You were damn near tempted to beg for him, to plead that he take you rough and quick. But as the words almost left your mouth, Sanji pulled out, stopping when all that was left was his head, before slamming back into you. You yelped with surprise, eyes crossing as he began to pump his hips, sinking into you over and over, so fast and deep that it was nearly painful - exactly how you wanted it, that goddamn mindreader.
The sounds spilling from your lips were so crass and pornographic - you were never so vocal before, but now you simply couldn’t help it. Not with Sanji’s cock buried perfectly between your folds, his hands squeezing your hips, his mouth hot on your skin. You couldn’t be sure if it was the damned plant making you like this or if it was really, simply him.
As Sanji fucked you like he was the one who needed it, you curved back into him, his chest to your back, hair tangling as his heavy panting blew across your face, the angle of your neck allowing you to rest your sweaty forehead against his chin. God, his own grunts of pleasure were all-consuming, making your cunt tighten and your knees shake; you had to grope tightly at the wall for purchase, feeling as if you could lose your grip at any moment.
“This how you want it?” Sanji muttered hoarsely, to which you hummed eagerly, “More?”
“God, ye-es,” You slurred.
He immediately started snapping his hips with even more intensity, a deep cry leaping from you. He leaned into you heavily, bracing his hands on the wall either side of yours, and you felt like you were going to come undone from how good he made you feel, how his hard cock plunged deep into you, how his hips slammed against your ass urgently.
Shit, there were stars in your eyes as you took him, pussy soaking wet and clenching tight, legs shaky with pleasure. You couldn’t help the way your limbs began to dissolve into jelly, struggling to stay upright, arching as you pressed forward, cheek to the wall in front of you, drool teasing as the corner of your mouth.
Feeling you melt on him, Sanji’s arms snaked around you again, cupping your breasts and forcing you back against him, sweat slick between your bodies as the angle change caused you to keen. His hands were delectably rough, one fondling your nipple as the other snaked down to your front, lingering just out of reach from your clit. His fingers splayed across your pelvis, pressing you back into him firmly, holding you steady as his cock thrust up into you.
“Really am made for you,” Sanji grumbled into your hair, teeth nipping at your ear. With the way your head spun, you nearly forgot what you’d said earlier until he recalled it, the gruffness of his words making you pulse around him. He moaned deep in his chest at the feel of you, hips driving with particular intensity, the pressure above your clit making you dizzy.
Sanji’s hand on your breast trailed up your neck to your jaw, urging you to turn your head so he could kiss you sloppily, his tongue shoving hungrily into your mouth, thrusts unrelenting.
When your lips broke apart, he kept you there, forehead to yours as he groaned, “Say it again.”
The request made a spring tighten deep inside, a moan falling from your mouth into his. Again, under different circumstances, you’d be nearly embarrassed by your dirty talk, but now it just made you wetter.
“Your cock was made for me,” You mewled, voice hitching, lips brushing Sanji’s with each word. He whined, hips persistent up against yours, only encouraging you, “Fits me so fucking good--”
Unexpectedly, his cock slammed up hard into you, the both of you yelping as he stiffened and held you tight. You could feel him cumming deep inside, twitching and grunting, filling you to the brim. And you were right there behind him, turned on so much by the fact that he was spilling into you; you lost control with a wild cry, body trembling with your release.
For a long beat, the two of you stayed just like that, tangled together and panting heavily. Your head was still spinning, Sanji’s cum slowly leaking down your thigh; and like the curse that just wouldn’t quit, your body lit up again carnally, ready to keep going and going and going.
“Shit,” Sanji hissed into your hair, finally coming back down to earth.
The both of you quivered as his hands dropped to your hips, easing himself slowly out of you with a low keen; the loss of him caused his seed to ooze out of you, soaking the inside of your legs. He rested his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades as he caught his breath.
“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”
You hummed contently, blindly reaching back to knot your fingers through his hair. Even as your body ached for him again, your lips curved up with jest, “You can do this all day?”
To your teasing, Sanji roughly squeezed your hips; you could feel his smile against your clammy skin, “Oh, I promise that. Just gimme five minutes.”
True to his word, Sanji recovered in record time; you spent those few minutes waiting touching yourself, though even that couldn’t make you feel as good as he did. That goddamn pollen was unrelenting - you’d lost track of how many orgasms you had once Sanji returned to you, using his hands and mouth and cock to bring your ruination time and again. And even then, you kept begging for more.
By the time your body had stopped burning, you realized just how spent you really were, muscles aching in all the right ways, limbs quivering even while you did nothing.
Fuck, even once you were back in your right mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about Sanji - that was the best fucking sex of your life, but how the hell could you tell him that? This was your crewmate, your friend, an obnoxious flirt, and, apparently, some kind of sex aficionado, considering all the ways he managed to make you cum. Once he eventually left the safety and comfort of your room, the spell would really be broken, you weren’t sure how you were ever going to look at him normally ever again.
But right now, as you watched him redress slowly - because he was just as worn out as you were - you tried not to let the panic set in. You were certain there was no fucking way you could just be normal with him moving forward. The thought that you and Sanji would be sharing a secret this big made something coil inside you, and for a moment you nearly panicked, thinking that maybe the plant’s effects hadn’t totally worn off and were back with vengeance.
But, no, it had nothing to do with the damned pollen. You realized, frighteningly, that it was completely and utterly you getting worked up thinking about what Sanji was able to do to you; your reaction had nothing to do with that plant at all.
You weren’t certain if Sanji could tell that you were panicking, because you weren’t sure what was going on in his head, either. Yet, when he met your watchful gaze while shrugging into his shirt, he gave you that dazzling, gorgeous grin of his, and you couldn’t help smiling back; though, the butterflies swirling in your stomach filled you with something akin to dread.
Sanji bit the inside of his lip as he studied your face; it seemed like he was trying to make up his mind about something, which only made you more nervous.
Before you could think or react or stop him, Sanji swiftly dipped down to where you lay on the bed, tenderly cupping your cheek and swooping in to steal a kiss that made your heart skip a beat inside your chest.
Shit, maybe this did mean something after all. And that terrified you most of all.
.
.
Addt, Author's Note | Been a little while since I've written smut, so hopefully this wasn't just repetitive or disappointing lol. I don't totally love the ending, but it isn't the worst, so c'est la vie~
; ꪆৎ ; ( m4f ) bf!leon kennedy x reader | fluff | divider by @/enchanthings
sypnosis ; re2leon kennedy and some headcannons i think he would do while dating you <3
re2!leon kennedy , who would come home after a painfully long day at work and just lay in your arms , hoping to never let go.
re2!leon kennedy , who always takes your home cooked meals to his workplace , getting showered with compliments on how delicious it both looks and smells , replying with a " thanks! my girlfriend made me it.. "
re2!leon kennedy , who places little sticky notes around the house before he leaves , wanting you to look at them and think of him while hes gone (not that you dont anyways..)
re2!leon kennedy , who loves texting you and sending you sweet and short voice messages about how his days been so far (pretend they had high tech phones...erm)
re2!leon kennedy , who would always make you crack a laugh by the way he would shamelessly swear at tough times, no matter the situation just to make you happy.
re2!leon kennedy , whose baby face make you genuinely want to squish his cheeks all day (which ones? ok sorry.)
re2!leon kennedy , who probably has matching keychains with you, dangling off the side pocket on his work badge.
re2!leon kennedy , who never misses a chance to go grocery shopping with you, patiently listening as you ramble on about the recipes youd make in the soon future with said ingredients.
re2!leon kennedy , who is protective over his hair care routine despite all your pleading he would never hand it over, despite all the jokes you manage to get ahold of it and your hair has never been shinier. (However..he’d steal your skincare?…….hypocrite!!)
re2!leon kennedy , who probably wakes you up in the morning with his loud and hoarse snoring.
re2!leon kennedy , who flexes the things you buy him , showing everyone how much hes loved.
re2!leon kennedy , who lets you tend to his wounds and bruises despite how much they hurt, he trusts you, dont forget that.
re2!leon kennedy , who would stop smoking if you said so, just to make you feel safe and listened to around him.
re2!leon kennedy , who is a cutie pie. | a/n ; i havent written in awhile..i have alot of drafts idk if i should post them lol…zzzz
note : divider is from @/cafekitsune. uhhh idrk how to feel about this one I just kinda wanted to write angst so this probably sucks and I know it's ooc whoopsies
wc : 1.3k
desc : you've been dead for a few months now, Leon still can't get over it. established relationship, angst, hurt no comfort (I think? correct me if I'm wrong), not proofread, Leon contemplates suicide and is also reliant on alcohol, gn!reader, I kind of flip-floped between vendetta!Leon and re6!Leon so idrk you pick
There were plenty of things that happened to Leon that made his life miserable, one of them was losing you. It was no one's fault, you got sick, you had an expiration date, and Leon did everything he could to try and help you get better, but it didn't work. Leon didn't regret spending a bunch of his money trying to make your sickness go away, he just wished it would've worked, that you'd still be here with him.
Maybe not right this second, though. Maybe he doesn't want you in the car with him while he's speeding down the road, half-past one in the morning and half-past drunk.
He thinks too much, drinking doesn't help him stop thinking, like, at all, he doesn't know why he expects the outcome to be different whenever he pours himself some whiskey, but if he crashes his car then he has something to blame it on. He'd already gotten too many lectures from Claire and Chris about how he should take better care of himself, that things weren't going to stay as bad as they are right now, but things had been shitty for Leon for so long that this just added to the list of reasons on why he should drink himself to death.
You and Leon had your ups and down, everyone did, but he still doesn't believe you ever really knew how much you helped him. Knowing he had someone at home waiting for him made his job a bit easier, and knowing you were his and that he was the one who put that ring on your finger made him feel like there was something more to his life than being a weapon for the government. Leon was your husband, had been your husband, still is. He wished more than anything that he had spent more time with you, that his job didn't have to be the center of his life while you were forced to be secondary, he couldn't quit, not while he was still able-bodied, but he promised you that one day he'd have his final day in the DSO and that he'd take you on vacation without having it interrupted.
Leon was able to take you on vacation for a week to Greece, but even when the two of you came back home, he wanted to keep taking you beautiful places while he was still able to. There was still paperwork he had to do, a few less missions but he still had to do his job, you understood. He hated it, though. He wanted you to yell at him about how he should be at home with you, spending as much time as he possibly could with you. But you never yelled at him about it even though he knew it upset you, you said there was no use in arguing, he’d be there when you needed him.
He shouldn’t keep dwelling on this, you’ve been dead for five months now, but he can't get himself to focus on anything else. Leon didn't know why ghosts weren't real. If there could be zombies wandering the streets as well as dozens of other creatures that only Hell could spit out, why weren't there ghosts? Leon would take you being alive over you being a ghost any day, but if a ghost was the best he could settle for, then that's what he would accept. But he was yet to get any messages on the wall written in blood or find your belongings in places where they weren't before, not that you had to be a ghost to haunt him.
All the windows in his car are rolled all the way down, Leon's not listening to the radio or any music, he's been on all these roads before, but he still doesn't really know where he's going. He left D.C. around eight p.m. to go to a bar in Maryland, he had left the bar maybe half an hour ago and was driving through the woods, he didn’t have any plans on going back into D.C. just yet. Leon wasn’t the best driver to begin with, being drunk definitely didn’t make him any better, be he’d rather drive himself home or to the middle of nowhere than call someone to take him home.
He liked calling you, though.
Of course, you never picked up, he just liked calling so he could hear your voice on the recorded message for your missed calls. Sometimes he’d actually talk, others he’d just keep driving down the road while the silence on your end of the line dragged on.
Leon sighs softly and bites the inside of his cheek as he takes one hand off the wheel to dig in his back pocket for his phone. He steals glances between the road and his phone as he unlocks it and opens your contact, waiting patiently as it begins ringing. Leon clears his throat slightly and takes his other hand off the wheel to run his hand through his sweaty hair as he waits for your voice recording to switch on before grabbing hold of the wheel again.
He opens his mouth to talk once the ringing stops, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before he hears someone else on the other end.
“Hello? Who is this?” The tired voice of a woman makes his breath catch in his throat, he takes his foot off the gas and slams down on the brake, the tires of his car make a horrible screeching noise as he swerves to the side. Leon thinks he must've finally gone crazy, there couldn't have been another voice on the end of the line that was supposed to belong to you.
The woman speaks up again as Leon's car finally comes to a stop, he hadn't hit anything, but there are swervey skid marks that go down the road for a couple dozen feet. Leon breathes shakily into his phone, his foot still pressed down on the brake as he puts his car in park and leans back against his seat.
"I- fuck, I'm sorry." Leon began, his throat feeling even dryer than it already was. "Go back to bed, o-or whatever you were doing before I called. Just- goddammit." He quickly hangs up the phone and tosses it down onto the passenger seat. Leon runs his hands down his face, he can feel his chest tightening up like his lungs are about to pop inside his ribs, the stinging sensation in his eyes and throat only worsens.
When had they put your number back into use? That poor girl would probably block his number and he'd lose that little bit of your voice forever. Leon could go through his phone to find videos of you or just anything where he could hear your voice, but he figured he should wait until he remembered to work his phone more than trying to call you.
Day by day, it feels like he's losing you even more. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to get rid of your things, your clothes are still in his closet, your shampoo was still in the shower, God, even your medication was still in the medicine cabinet. But no matter how many of your things remained in his home, you're still gone.
Leon was supposed to die before you, he'd imagined it hundreds of times in his head, you knew it, too. All of this could have been avoided if he just killed himself after Raccoon City or had died on one of his missions before meeting you, maybe it would have been better for him if he had never sat next to you on that train and started talking too much.
There's nothing he can do about it now except weep and get so drunk that he could still hear you talking to him, not that he didn't imagine you laying back down in bed or lounging on the couch when he was sober. Maybe he'll see you again sooner rather than later, there wasn't really anyone who was around enough to stop him. All he knew was that his life was never really his after 1998, and without you in it, maybe it was time for it to come to an end.
→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!
CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut
WC: 1.8k
NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay
MASTERLINK
You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.
Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!
But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.
Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.
Oh.
You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.
Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.
That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.
And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.
Pluck.
He likes me.
Pluck.
He likes me not.
Pluck.
He likes me.
Pluck.
He likes me not.
Pluck. Last one.
He likes me!!!
Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.
You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.
The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.
“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“
“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”
“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.
Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.
“You’re shitting me!”
“What?”
“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”
And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.
The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.
“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.
“And ya couldn’t back at home?”
“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”
“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”
It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.
“Yeah, it is.”
A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.
You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.
Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?
Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”
“Mhm.”
Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶
You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.
You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.
The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?
Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”
You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.
Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.
The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.
“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”
“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.
“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”
“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”
His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”
“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”
“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.
All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.
He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.
It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.
Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.
“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.
“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.
“That’s it. Like that.”
And after that, there were more spontaneous times.
You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.
“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.
Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.
You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.
You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.
If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.
“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”
“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.
But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.
Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.
Thinking about touch-averse Leon Kennedy gradually becoming comfortable with physical displays of affection.
Like after everything he endured in Raccoon City and Spain, I imagine he’d be quite… jumpy, to say the least: flinching when you touch him unexpectedly, stiffening when you wrap your arms around him from behind, sleeping on his side of the bed without ever crossing the invisible divide.
It’s not that he thinks you’ll hurt him. It’s not that he thinks he’s in danger. It’s not that he doesn’t love you — far from it, actually. He’s never before felt so close to anyone. He’s just… afraid.
What if he snaps?
What if he reacts a little to forcefully?
What if he hurts you?
You’ve said you’d be able to take it; he doesn’t want that. He wants to be normal. He wants to touch you, wants to hold you, wants to comfort and kiss and provide for you but he can’t. He’s all too aware of the physical and metaphorical scars littering his body and psyche.
He’s bruised. Battered. Damaged. Broken.
But to his surprise, you don’t run away. You don’t give up on him, even when he wakes up screaming, slick with sweat and fear and misery more often than not. You whisper soothing words in his ear. You place a cold towel on his forehead. You remind him that you love him.
You love him.
And as your relationship progresses, as you see the uglier, more brutal sides of his recovery, your love deepens. You show it in non-physical ways: cooking his favorite meals, buying him little gifts just because they reminded you of him, sending him sweet, affirming messages throughout the day. You respect his boundaries without question. His chest swells with affection; he feels undeserving. He wishes he could give you something in return.
So imagine Leon accidentally chokes you in his sleep. He’s inconsolable as he weeps and unleashes a relentless stream of apologies. They’re mangled, though, garbled by the asphyxiation of remorse. You’ve given him the world, and this is how he repays you? With violence and fear and sleepless nights? He’s worthless, he’s pitiful, he’s a sorry excuse for a partner. You deserve better. You deserve to leave.
But to his surprise, you stay.
And you comfort him.
And you tell him it’s alright; you’re not hurt. He didn’t hurt you. He’s okay. You’re okay.
And you turn on the lights and bring his hand to your throat.
See? Barely a bruise.
You love him all the same.
He swears it won’t happen again. You tell him that it might but it’s okay so long as he continues to work on himself. As long as he continues to go to therapy. He pales and cups your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.
You’re healing, you tell him. It’s okay to heal. Healing is inherently imperfect.
There’s a shift in your relationship after that, a positive one. Leon adored the warmth of your cheek so he starts to ask if he can cradle your face. You giggle because it’s a little silly, but allow it all the same. Because his therapist instructed him to try and you’ve so longed to feel his touch again.
And then weeks later he asks if he can hold your hand. You try not to show too much enthusiasm — you don’t want to scare him away, after all — so you just nod in agreement. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode when he interlocks his fingers with yours. When you feel the gentle scrape of his calloused hands along your palms.
He asks to hug you four months later. He holds it for only five seconds at first. Then ten. Then twenty. And soon enough, you have to pry Leon off your body. You have chores to do, laundry to fold. But he won’t let go. And he’s so sweet and he’s come so far, so you allow it.
And as time passes, he stops flinching when you touch him unexpectedly. He stops stiffening when you wrap your arms around him from behind. His arms and legs are wound tightly around yours when you awake every morning. You move through life with a wall of muscle strapped to your body at all times.
synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.
warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon
word count: 15k
a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️
I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS
Life can be a bitch sometimes.
This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.
But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.
The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.
There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.
But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…
His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?
Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.
Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.
It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.
After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.
Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.
After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.
II. RINSE AND REPEAT
He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.
Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.
At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.
This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.
Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.
Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.
After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.
After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.
Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.
“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.
“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.
“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."
"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.
“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.
“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.
“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.
“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.
“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.
“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.
“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.
“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.
At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.
“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.
“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.
“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”
“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”
“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”
“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.
“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.
Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.
His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.
However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?
“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”
“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”
“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.
“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”
“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.
“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.
“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.
“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.
“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.
"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.
“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.
“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.
“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.
“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.
“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.
“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.
“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.
“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”
“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.
“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.
“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.
“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.
The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.
He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.
Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.
What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?
His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!
The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.
III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING
You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.
However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.
After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.
“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.
“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”
“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.
“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”
“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.
“Of course. At seven?”
“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.
As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?
Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.
Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.
Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.
He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.
Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.
At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.
“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.
“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”
“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.
"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.
“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.
You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.
“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.
“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.
“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.
Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.
“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”
Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.
“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.
“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.
“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”
“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.
Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.
“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”
Leon was reaching his breaking point.
He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.
“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”
When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.
“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”
After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.
However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.
June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA
“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.
Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.
“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”
He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.
“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”
The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.
“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.
He pulls the trigger.
And there’s only blood.
He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.
“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”
“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.
“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.
“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”
“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.
“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.
You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.
He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.
“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.
“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.
IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN
The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.
The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.
Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.
The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.
Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.
Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–
“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."
Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.
"Target approaching."
As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.
"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.
The Porsche approached the garage.
"GO," Leon said sharply.
At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.
Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.
A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.
Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.
Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.
There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.
He feels paralyzed.
It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.
It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.
“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.
Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.
“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”
“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.
You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.
“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.
“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.
“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”
You saw him reach the breaking point.
Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.
After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.
But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.
“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”
“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.
“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.
“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.
“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.
“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.
Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.
“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.
Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.
“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.
“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.
“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.
“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.
“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.
“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.
“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”
The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.
“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."
No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.
“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”
After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.
Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.
“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”
“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.
“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”
“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”
“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”
You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.
“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.
“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.
“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”
Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.
Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.
You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.
“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”
“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.
“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.
“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.
“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”
“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.
Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.
“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.
“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.
“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.
“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.
Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.
“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.
“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.
When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?
He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.
“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.
“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.
Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.
“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.
“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.
“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”
He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.
“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”
“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.
But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.
“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.
The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.
Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.
“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”
V. ACCEPTANCE
After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.
You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.
It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.
“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.
“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.
“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”
“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.
“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.
“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”
“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.
“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.
“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”
Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.
“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”
“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.
He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.
“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.
“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.
“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.
“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”
“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”
“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.
“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.
“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.
“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.
You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.
“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.
“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”
“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”
Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.
“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”
While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.
“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.
“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”
Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.
Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.
"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.
"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.
Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.
"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.
"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.
Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.
"I'm on vacation."
"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.
"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.
"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.
"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.
"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.
Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.
"Cancel the beer."
"No, it's not canceled."
“Come on… what the fuck?!”
"I don't need any more alcohol."
"Cut it out. What's going on?"
"That's my line."
The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.
"You–!" Chris leaned forward.
"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.
Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.
"...What's the situation?" he asked.
Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,
"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."
The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.
"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"
Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.
"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"
"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.
"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."
With a hesitant tone, Leon continues
“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."
Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.
"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.
"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.
Tension fills the air between them once again.
"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."
"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.
They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.
"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.
"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.
"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."
Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.
"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.
"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.
Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.
"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."
As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.
"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."
Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.
"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."
Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.
"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."
Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.
"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."
"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.
There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.
"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.
Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.
"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.
She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.
"She's a great woman," Leon comments.
"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.
And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.
"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.
"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.
"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."
Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.
"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."
Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.
"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.
"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”
"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.
“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."
Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.
"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."
He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.
Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."
Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.
“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.
“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.
“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.
“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.
“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.
“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.
Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.
Before you, Leon was ready to die.
He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.
But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.
It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.
The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.
"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."
The merged form kicked out.
The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.
Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.
"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.
"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.
In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.
Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.
Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.
What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…
VI. ABSOLUTION
When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.
After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.
“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.
“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.
“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.
“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.
“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.
“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”
“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”
Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.
“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.
“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.
“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.
After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.
“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.
“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.
“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.
You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.
“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.
“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.
“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.
“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”
“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.
Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.
“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.
“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.
“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “
“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.
“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.
“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.
The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.
“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.
“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.
He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.
“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.
You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.
Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.
“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.
Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.
However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.
When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.
Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.
“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.
“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.
“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.
“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.
After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.
fem. reader. love rivalry including ada/reader/leon. (focus on reader)
something cold digs in between your shoulder blades, sending shivers up tense muscles.
it’s a sudden sensation. catches you off guard you forget to call out to leon, whose back is turned to you whilst sifting through paper files laying across an abandoned wooden desk. the latest room you’ve snuck into seemed abandoned enough — save for its open window rocking back and forth on screeching bolts. they must’ve entered through there mere seconds before the two of you did.
warm, sweet breath tickles your earlobe. another round of shivers overtake your senses. this time, through, you recover quickly enough to react.
your hand flies to your pocketed blade and in an instant is pressed up to their throat. it is then you realize, recognize who your company is. she smiles serenely at you, acting like the knife at her neck isn’t sharp enough to slice through bone. she bears her pistol with all the grace of someone who’s caught you in her web, not the other way around.
“long time no see, kitten.”
her deadpan voice practically echoes through the silence of the night. finally surprising your partner into turning around. what surprises him further is the way ada gazes at you, almost identical to the way she did at him all those years ago.
“ada.” leon says plainly, hand hovering over his own pistol. his eyes flicker between the two of you, to the way your hand fumbles with your blade, to how she smiles a little too suggestively for someone being threatened. he’s certain you’re about to push her down, or for her to knock the knife away from your obviously loosened grip — neither happen.
instead, you carefully tuck your blade away and greet her with a coy smile of your own.
“i wasn’t expecting you here, red.” your arms cross, a guard of sorts. you knew full well of the games she liked to play. she holds your eyes as she slips her pistol back in its holster, searching for something you refuse to show. it’s been a long time, indeed, but you still remember how to compose yourself around her. it’s all rather flattering.
ada circles you, trailing her fingertips over your shoulders. her silky touch is the only weapon in her grasp, but it is perhaps her most dangerous. she takes pleasure in the way you shift beneath her watch, how your pretty face fights to remain mild. she’s no fool. she sees the smile playing at those luscious lips of yours — why bother hiding it? she’s all sultry eyes just for you, now that she’s finally managed to separate your stuffy partner’s hip from yours. seems he hadn’t changed after all. he really was the clingy type.
it was cute. once. not when he happened to be clingy with you of all people.
“once i heard you were around, i just couldn’t help myself.” her arm comes to rest around the curve of your waist. her fingers press into the flesh of your hip, easing you closer. her lips hover over the soft of your neck, almost kissing a path up to your ear. your breathing stutters, and she purrs, “wanted to stop by and catch up with my favorite girl, is all.”
you scoff, but there’s no stopping the heat rising up and over your face. those pretty lips of yours finally turn up in a smile, bashful like a schoolgirl crush. the temptation to run her thumb over your bottom lip runs strong — until an awkward, intentional clear of a throat interrupts the thought.
“i’d appreciate if you left my partner alone.” leon interjects, striding to stand tall besides you. in a swift motion he interweaves your elbows together and pulls you towards him, at once halting the hold she had on you. it’s a comfortable, possessive sort of touch. how quaint. cute little leon, still wearing his heart on his sleeve.
given the way his hand clamps around yours, he must really have it bad. what a shame. for him.
ada is slow to drag her eyes away from you. she even runs them up, down, over your lovely body for good measure. she can’t have leon thinking she isn’t willing to compete — two can play at that game. his fuming glower tells her he’s gotten the message loud and clear. as he should. she zeros in on the way his grip tightens around yours, again, cozily touching you as if you were his.
a quirk of her brow suggests ire. “glad to see you, leon. to think, after all this time, you’re still such a lucky man. who would’ve thought she’d end up being your partner?”
the two of them stare each other down with such intensity you wonder what other history they share aside from you. tension seeps into the chill of the nighttime air. leon’s coiled up so tightly it raises worry, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his bicep to placate him. for all you know, the mysterious plagas infecting him could thrive off stress, and he’s already had plenty of that so far.
almost immediately does your touch have him redirecting his notice towards you. his intense gaze softens at your pretty eyes studying him. his broad shoulders gradually relax in your embrace. he’s visibly calmed by the simple act, much to ada’s amusement — and her vexation. her fingertips dig into her palms, wishing it was your hands beneath them instead.
“ada, why are you really here?” you inquire, and she’s pleased when you finally set sights back on her. she’s not fond of the questioning, however. she purses her lips. her expression morphs into a cautious neutral. you’re aware you won’t be getting a direct answer, no matter how much she likes you.
ada sighs, “oh, sweetheart. you know i don’t work and tell.”
guarded, she saunters to the opposite end of the room to the very window she slithered in through, overlooking the bleak scenery with little interest. you slip past leon to follow after her, grasping her fingers to keep her from going any further. pleasant warmth seeps through from your fingertips to hers. there’s no time to relish it, although she longs to feel more. calculating eyes regard you and you alone.
“leave the girl,” demands ada. “she’s lost no matter what. you walk away now…and who knows? maybe you’ll live to meet me again.”
keeping her eyes locked on yours, she brings your hand to her lips, and presses a languid kiss across your knuckles. a stain of red now marks you as hers. play glimmers in her irises. “…maybe i’ll even take you on that date i promised.”
“you think we’re gonna give up that easy?” leon’s voice cuts in, weighed with barely contained venom.
“right.” ada exhales a laugh. how true. the two of you really are perfect for one another. hearts of gold, heads full of dreams. she turns towards a silently seething leon, whose eyes pierce her every move. he does a poor job at hiding his envious glare towards your entwined hands. “how about we continue this discussion another time?”
she drops your hand unceremoniously, in favor of pressing a kiss to your cheek. the pulse of your racing heart is nearly tangible. such a sweet girl, flustered by a simple kiss. longing parts her lips in their journey up to your ear to whisper, “stay safe, beautiful.” she pulls away with an air of nonchalance, committing to memory the clear look of shock she’s frozen you into. it takes all she has not to go back in for another kiss, for there’s no knowing where her lips will land if she does.
“keep her safe for me, will you, leon? she’s really quite precious, you know.”
and just like that, she’s gone.
you nearly stumble towards the creaking window for a vain glimpse into the night she’s disappeared through. half shocked, half mortified of your audience still gaping at you, you could only hope he wasn’t put off by the instance of his flirty adversary. or the fact you had no quarrels in encouraging her.
a hand wraps around yours, warm and tight.
“careful. leaning out a little too far there, don’t you think?”
leon sounds rather relieved now that it’s back to being the two of you. ada must’ve been a sore sight for whatever reasons he’s held within. you avoid his eyes to recollect yourself, murmuring apologies beneath your breath.
then, a touch upon your cheek, the very one she’d kissed, puts a stop to all thoughts. your eyes flutter up towards leon’s. his usually somber expression has turned sour, scowling and scorned in a way you’re unfamiliar with. his hand cups your face, thumb frantically rubbing off what must be a lipstick stain ada’s left behind. the intensity of his eyes only adds to your embarrassment, makes you wish he hadn’t seen her in the first place. maybe then he wouldn’t be upset, angry with the ghost of her presence.
“here i thought luis would be my only problem.” leon mutters, so softly you’d mistaken he’d spoken at all. when he notices the shift in your pretty eyes, the sweetsoft concern that struck him weak, his gaze mellows instantly, and he blinks rapidly as if coming out of a daze. rose pink springs across his face in a blooming blush, a bigger surprise than his supposed anger. he rips his hand away upon realizing himself, leaving you curious.
“i mean—i meant, she’s the last person i expected to run into here. it’s—it’s a long story. won’t bore you with it. just know she’s probably not worth trusting completely. it’s best you’re careful around her. i’d hate…i wouldn’t want you hurt.”
his voice goes quiet at the end. his head is turned away, body tight and tense, hands fiddling with the holsters of his weapons. it isn’t like leon to speak so personally. so openly about his emotions. and you know it isn’t because of ada’s mere presence, what must be a recollection of the past.
you touch your cheek, still warm from his skin.
“you’re the one i trust, leon. we came here together, and we’re leaving together. i’m with you until the end.”
courage overtakes bashful notions. you close in beside him, reach up to push a lock of his hair behind his ear. cup his shying face, a tender encouragement to share his vulnerability with you. leon’s eyes fall back on yours too easily, too swiftly for a simple friendship. you see it; he is incapable of masking it.
it’s somewhat of an honor he’s so fond of you. it’s a reminder to be gentle with his feelings, though you yourself may not have yours sorted out just yet. but it is ascertained that you care immensely for him, perhaps in the way he’d like you to. perhaps not. there’s plenty of time to work things out.
“i’m with you, ace.” you smile, tugging his cheek until he returns one of his own. “there’s no one else i’d rather have beside me. got it?”
leon nods, convinced. “yeah. thanks.”
you pay a playful pat to his cheek, satisfied with his answer. “good, good. now, why don’t we get moving? we wouldn’t want to keep miss ashley waiting. what were we even looking for in the first place? some kind of key?”
the mention of the mission reinvigorates him. “yeah, exactly. should be somewhere around here, if you can help me look.”
“sure! let’s just hope we can get by without someone interrupting again.”
“wouldn’t that be nice.” scoffs leon, slipping his fingers through yours to lead you back towards the other half of the room. this habit of wanting you close was really too cute. willingly do you allow him to take your hand as he pleases.
all the while you will your heart not to flutter at the lipstick still staining the other, red on red alike.
♠︎ warning(s) | italic and bold is song lyrics, i used the lyrics based on what i wrote kinda so it’s not perfectly in order…. multiple scenarios based off the lyrics cus i didn’t know how else to use this song w this 😭. idrk what else to add
baby, you're the baddest. baby, you're the baddest girl, and
nobody else matters. nobody else matters girl, and
we’re kissin in the bathroom, kissin in the bathroom girl, and
i hope nobody catch us; but i kinda hope they catch us, anyways.
ZUKO and you were together, it was something that the gaang wasn’t aware of, keeping your relationship on the low was your idea, he didn’t really mind but he wanted to be able to show you off to everyone, but he respected your wishes.
the two of you were in a tent together, lips locked as you two desperate sought out for more. his hands were on your waist, keeping you in place as he kissed you roughly. something about the tent being unzipped and the wind blowing the fabric back and fourth, opening and closing it gave him a thrill.
the kiss broke and the two of you caught your breaths, his forehead pressed against yours. he leaned in, and right before he closed the gap between the both of you again he muttered a small “no one’s gonna catch us if you keep quiet”
when he pressed his lips against yours again, he bit your bottom lip, and when you gasped at the sudden action he slipped his tongue back into your mouth (sneaky little bitch 🤬🤬). your two hands finding a place on his face, cupping it and pulling it even closer than it already was. one of his hands was resting on your hip, the other on your waist. his tongue tangles with yours in an endless dance.
his only concern right now was you, the front of the tent still moving back and fourth with the wind, god he hoped somebody could walk in on the two of you like this. the thought alone made him feral.
it was times like these— times like these that melted all his insecurities away. but not even this could make them go away for good.
im a mess; that don't rhyme with shit, it's just true
don't bring your girlfriend here, it's just you
when I'm depressed you're someone I run to
it was night time, and you heard some rustling outside, so you stepped out of the room, you and your friends were hiding in the fire lords palace, somewhere zuko claimed ‘nobody would think to look’.
when you stepped out, you saw zuko on the balcony, staring up in the sky with an empty look on his face. he was lost in thought. you walked over to him, and looked up at him
“you okay?” your voice was soft, and comforting. your tone was always one of pure adoration when you spoke to him. he looked back at you, not a word left his mouth, instead he opted for an embrace. leaning down to embrace your body, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, he was bothered.
you returned the hug without any hesitation, your concern for him only growing. you started rubbing his back softly and comfortingly, your other hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair.
you were his escape from reality. his comfort and weak spot. he couldn’t imagine a life without you besides him. and he knew you’d always be there for him. but what he didn’t understand was why.
(i skipped hella of the song like i said i would cus i had zero ideas for the lyrics.)
you ain't see me at the show, i was super great
hotel penthouse, go on let it ruminate
city never sleeps, so I guess I'm never slept on
did everything I could, then I kept going.
zuko had been down lately. like REALLY down. he’d space out more than usual, he was worried about something. he was worrying about something. and it was taking up all his energy. any time he wasn’t fighting or training aang he’d kinda just stare off, deep in thought. something was wrong. very wrong.
you scooted closer to your boyfriend, on the saddle(-thingy idk wtf it is) on appa as he flew. you put a hand to zukos cheek, moving his face to look at you, a concerned look on your face, when he saw it he just turned his face away from you. he felt bad that he was making you worry. but he couldn’t help it. these thoughts flooded his mind. ‘she’ll find someone better.’ ‘what if i’m not good enough?’ ‘i don’t deserve someone like her.’ ‘what if—‘
“zuko.” your voice was stern, loud enough only for him to hear, it was a way of telling him to tell you what was going on. but instead of telling you like he usually did, he just shook his head. he wasn’t gonna tell you, not now atleast. you understood that much. so you just put one of your hands on his comfortingly, trying to do all that you can to help him.
ooh, girl, i wanna know; are you ready to cry? cause im no good, no good
ooh, girl, I wanna try; im an awful guy and I'm always away
and I'm tryin to say, im a piece of shit; believe in this, I'm tellin' you
cause we barely knew, what we had: im not that bad, the fun we had
oh, oh.
the avatar had finally defeated firelord ozai, andit was almost time for zuko to be crowned the new firelord. but one thought stuck in his head
‘what if she’s still thinking about my past actions?’
he was afraid. but he masked his fear with happiness the second you popped up behind him. that same concerned look on your face. “are u gonna tell me what’s up or keep up this ‘nothings wrong’ act of yours, zuko?”
you asked him in a tone that let him know you were serious. and so he just sighed. it was impossible for him to keep anything from you for this long. so he just began to speak.
“listen, i’m not a good person, y/n. i’ve done so much and caused so much pain to you and your tribe. i’m not gonna have a lot of time for you when i’m the firelord. i want to try for you. i do, but im just always thinking about the possibility of you finding someone better. i promise i’m trying, y/n.”
when he opened up to you, you took his face in your hands, and started to speak softly, “zuko. you aren’t the same person you were a year ago. i know you’ve changed. and i love you for that, there’s no possibility of me ‘finding someone better’ because i’m not looking for something better than what we have. i love you and our relationship, nothing could get in the way of that. ever.”
your words gave his mind peace, and he embraced you tightly after, leaning down to press his lips against yours softly. his hold on you was tight, to him it felt like if he let go, you’d fade away. but you weren’t going anywhere. not without him atleast. he leaned down and whispered a small “thank you.” before pressing his lips onto yours once more.
today is the last day kento will be able to love you in a way you can feel.
⊹ f!reader ⊹ no curses, marriage au ⊹ angst n nothing else ⊹ major character death. no happy ending ⊹ 1.4k ⊹ footnote. from my archive. i’m sorry. with this, i become someone i hate.
you’re always telling him ‘tomorrow is tomorrow.’
if he asks what it means, you reason it means you never want him to lose hope in the present by worrying about what comes next. his feet are already planted in ‘today’ so that’s where he should set his sights.
after some time, he reasons it means you’re a fighter through and through.
“i think today…yes, today.” a gentle murmur, distant and far away, as if you’re already witnessing the end. your voice, though fragile, is resolute. but still, a soft smile tugs at your lips.
“today?” kento squeaks, fearful and unprepared. “maybe you’re just tired, angel. don’t be so morose.”
“honey,” your expression is sullen as you gift him a sympathetic smile. “i feel the weakest i’ve ever felt. i don’t want it to surprise you. i don’t want you to deny this, leave it, and regret it tomorrow. please listen. please trust me. i…don’t have any more time.”
“but…i…”
i need more time. i’m not ready.
you stop him. “i’m happy the children came to see me. all of them together…it was such a beautiful sight.”
panicky tears pricking at his eyes, he questions nervously, “do you regret it? all of this?”
“never. i’ll never regret you. you’re the love of my life. i’m honored to have spent this lifetime with you.”
your smile is full, likely the last one he’ll ever see on your beautiful face. his eyes savor the sight. no words, only staring until it fades.
your eyes look so heavy, so full of an ache for sleep.
today. yes, today. no more tomorrows.
his heart sinks into the depths of despair, evading acceptance at all costs. he’s not ready. he hasn’t loved you enough yet. it was supposed to be forever.
he only needs a little more time, but as he watches your hands tremble just to lift ever so lightly and graze over his resting fingers, he knows time is the only thing you both no longer have.
he offers one, final grand declaration of love. “i don’t regret a single moment. i love everything we experienced. i will forever. everything we built. you’re my big love of a lifetime. i’ll carry you forever. until i’m with you. i’m so happy i got to have you, to hold you, and create all of this with you. i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. there will never be enough times i can say it for it to express how much i do. i wish i could do it all over and relive it with you one more time. i’ll miss you so, so much.”
his voice is frantic, loving words tumbling from quivering lips as if the time he has left is already withered away into nothing right before him.
“good, i’m glad this has been good for you, too. so don’t live with any regrets. promise me. you still have so much time. go enjoy life. all the things we wanted to do, please do them. go to malaysia. i’ll be with you. i’ll miss you, but i’ll never leave you. i’ll be waiting.”
“o-okay, i won’t.” defeat clings to his breath.
you push. “promise me.”
“i won’t live with regrets. i promise. i’ll still do all the things we wanted to do that we didn’t have time to. i’ll still go to malaysia.”
his eyes sparkle with tears that spill over the rims, but you fall asleep with an adoring smile and he counts the seconds between every inhale and exhale diligently, always meticulous in how he loves you.
he clings to a desperate notion.
maybe not today? tomorrow is still tomorrow, after all.
when you wake, you’re dissolving before his eyes and he can’t stop the sobs that shake his body as he watches his hope for tomorrow shatter in an instant.
just like a casual blink of an eye, death is taking you from him.
your eyes will hardly open. your touch is not so warm anymore. you try to reach for him, but you no longer have the strength to move your hands, to grasp for his own. he takes up the mantle of gathering your delicate hand and cradling it, loving you the way he always has: enough for you both.
your voice is raspy and weak, but still, you give your all to question him. “was it…enough? all of this?”
the thumps in his chest crescendo in his ears, harder to ignore. he feels sick, dizzy, on the cusp of succumbing to vertigo, but he can’t fall apart. not here. not now. not yet.
“more than, angel. it was everything and more.”
he promises you and he means it with every fiber of his existence that remains, even though the biggest piece of him is leaving now and there won’t be many fragments of him left after it.
“good. i love you, nanami kento. i do. tomorrow is tomorrow, so don’t worry much right now…but…i loved all of our yesterdays. all of them.”
“i know. i love you so much. more than anything.” he’s trying so hard to hold in his sobs, but they’re still coming out as small, squeaky wails and hard sniffles.
“i know.” your voice is so tired. tears stream from your half-lidded eyes and you make your final request. “will you keep hold of my hand?”
without hesitation, he does.
he holds your hand for hours.
until it falls limp in his own.
the day is bleak, eerily quiet. he can’t care even if he tries.
his lips no longer have a tepid cheek to kiss. his fingers no longer have eager hands to grasp. his chest no longer holds the weight of your resting head as he wakes.
there’s so much nothingness and all of it is so quiet that it’s screaming to be filled.
with what? a listless ghost, perhaps? the accumulation of memories that belong to these ever-peering walls and now-desolate halls anyway?
all he hears inside the silence is the absence of your breath, of your voice, of your movements. he always knew it was coming, but it still knocked the wind out of him and stole all the words from the base of his lungs.
in love by 21, a bright future and a happy family by 27, a lonely father by 38.
there’s still so much he wishes you could have done together, but he promised you he won’t live with regrets.
he promised you it was enough.
he got seventeen amazing years with you, nearly two decades spent in loving one another, nearly two decades worth of a life built together, handcrafted from the ground up.
it was enough. it was more than enough. it was everything to him. the home you both built. your three beautiful children who are all becoming incredible individuals deserving of the pride you hold for them, spirits as radiant and wonderful as the person who raised them.
he’s so proud of the life you lived for the sake of yourself and the life you both lived together.
so he tries to shift his thoughts to all the things you managed to do together in such a short time you were given to love each other. there’s not a single moment he would change of it. not your youth. not your children. not your dreams that shot to life or were left abandoned in the dust for the sake of this love.
all of the changes you both made, all of the sacrifices, every single second of it was worth it.
he would do it all over even with the awareness that this is how it will end. the devotion he’s so certain of, the loyalty that never dared to falter…that does make him smile.
eventually, maybe the aching in his chest will dull enough that he feels like speaking again. right now, he just wants to remember.
it feels like the first day of a much colder life, but he knows there are still so many things to do. maybe he can’t do them with you, but he’ll do them for you, because of you.
yes, this is the first day of his life without you.
and he’ll live it well enough for you both.
until he can meet you again.
but if anyone were to ask him about his time and how he felt about you until your last shaky breath, he would say it was a wonderful existence and he got his happily ever after.
