Can i request a one shot where Worick realizes he's in love with the reader, he traps her against a wall and tells her he'll do anything to get the chance to love her? Then she caves and let's him "in"
Notes: Late night inspo ftw! Trying to get back into the swing of writing
Blinking through hazy lines of confusion, you push firmly against Worick’s broad shoulders. There was no denying the fact, on either of your parts, that he had been acting odd over the last few days. His eyes tended to linger, hands came with warmth that stayed with you for hours long after. And Friday…this most recent one would have been the third time that his second job went ignored. The second time it happened you made a bit of a joke out of it, jesting that he was getting old and needed to retire.
It wasn’t the first time you had used that line, and frankly you were expecting him to brush it off with one of his sassy remarks. What you weren’t expecting was the soft touch to your chin before your head was lifted. ‘Maybe I’m just ready to settle down’ he told you in an offhanded way before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. He left you there stunned as he disappeared into the adjourning room.
The ghost of his breath against the exposed column of your neck is what snaps you back to the present. Worick is the perfect epitome of calm, smiling softly as the pad of his thumb brushes against your bottom lip.
“Um..’Ricky?” Swallowing hesitantly, the palms of your hands splay against the wall behind you uselessly as if to remind you that there is no escape. You’re at a loss for words, but that doesn’t seem to deter the flaxen haired male. In the way that his mouth works apart your lips makes it apparent that he had no intention of letting you speak. There are hints of normality in the kiss that has your guard slipping. You’re not sure of where this is heading but you can at least participate to the best of your ability. Tentatively, a hand reaches out to curl fingers around the fabric of his favored expensive shirts.
His tongue traces the seam of your lips with a sense of finality as he pulls away to break the kiss.
“Please.” Your brow pinches at the first hint of desperation in his voice. Though given the irregularities of today, it seems so fitting. Still, you harbor concern but his continued speech hardly offers you the opportunity to piece together the mystery.“Please just listen.”
The look on your face is a mixture of confusion and disbelief. And by the twitch threatening to curl your lips, Worick’s trained eyes can target a scowl before it comes to completion.
“Okay, okay. Sorry, wrong time to joke, I know.”
You want to urge him to continue. Really get to the meat of his conclusion but you’re hardly certain if you’re prepared for what’s to come. This is a shadow from the man that has always been forgotten, lost behind confidence and sultry composure. What you’re facing now is … well different. And it’s slightly concerning given that you’re already favoring the rapt attention you’re receiving from such a close proximity.
“I’m know I not perfect. In fact, I’m sure by my reputation alone I’m likely the furthest from it.”“I kill for cash and sleep around for a few bucks more. I come from a dysfunctional family and somehow ended up choosing a Twilight over status…”
Despite the bewilderment you’ve become accustom to over the span of time trapped in the cage of his arms, there is no denying the sting of a confession when you hear one. His words wrap so tightly around omission it’s impossible to miss the way they spill straight from his soul. It’s the way they attempt to knock at the door of your heart that has you shifting comfortably and averting your gaze.
A breathless chuckle dances along the lines of your hearing as it rolls off his tongue with aged use. Worick always seems to find a reason to laugh, lest it be to relieve tension or just help him get through a taut situation. It’s been directed at you on a few occasions but the low octave of this instance doesn’t prompt you to join.
“I guess forcing my thoughts into a generic script of romance it’s the best route with you.”
For a moment his posture slips as he balances on one hand, the other coming to mold against your jaw. Calloused hands don’t particularly offer the comfort of a smooth touch, but the assertiveness that lines the grip is enough to comfort.
“Look… what I want… is the chance to show you what my love is like.”
As usual, he’s predicted your next move and his hand tightens to keep your head in place. He has no control over your line of vision, but given the position of its range he never escapes the peripheral.
“-Hell, it probably won’t even be safe.”
This encourages a snort from you. Memories of less than secure events bun lying around your current thoughts. It’s almost as if your mind clings to them, using the rush of remembrance to fight off the anxiety of the present. Right now your ‘fight or flight’ mode is uncomfortably stuck in an in between stage, both options expertly blocked by the man before you.
When you finally take your eyes back over him, you can’t miss the twinkle of mirth in his eyes that lets your know that he’s planned each of your actions out with careful consideration.
“I don’t need you to do anything but just let me. I promise to do all the work. There is a lot for me to make up and I apologize in advance for using you selfishly to seek redemption but-”
His thumb flicks across your lips and you silently curse them when they fall open, their grip just short of his appendage. It’s becoming alarmingly apparent that your body is already answering to his proposal.
“If I’m truly meant for salvation, I want it to come from you.”
It’s only your mind that remains astute. Holding firm to past beliefs and standing strong as a final resolve. But even at its wits ends, you can’t miss the whispered sway of judgement. It reaches for Worick as if accepting the unknown with stretched assurance.
You’re not expecting a fairy tale ending. Especially not in a city called Ergastulum.
You can spin a fitting revision.
