Navel, hip, tailbone—they really committed to the whole "he's a Weapon so technically he's naked" thing, huh? Fully-rendered in an official piece of FF7 media. What a time to be alive.
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Rumors can cause jealousy.
Word Count: 4,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Back in the Reach, when Lady Olenna hired that lady of the night to tutor you and Margaery on marital acts and what husbands liked, she had assured both of you that unlike what everyone around you kept telling you, your name, your family’s wealth, any heirs you’d have with your future husband; none of that was a guarantee that he would fall in love with you.
According to her, it was all about how mesmerizing you would be, and your marital bed was the key. That night, while you and Margaery laid in the bed trying to silence your giggles so as not to wake Loras again and get a scolding, you had both agreed that it was exaggeration; surely it couldn’t have been the case for everyone.
But judging by Robb’s reaction after what you had done last night, you were beginning to believe that lady.
“My maid will be here any moment!” you said as you pushed him gently, making him walk backward to the door. “I must get ready for breakfast—we already overslept!”
He grabbed your wrist and in a blink, you had your back against the wall, a giggle escaping you.
“Robb!”
“Dismiss her when she comes.”
“And what of my ladies-in-waiting?”
He grinned at you. “Dismiss them too.”
“That would be rude!”
“Fine, I’ll dismiss all of them—”
“You’ll do no such thing!” you exclaimed, the look of shock on your face coaxing a chuckle out of him as he cupped your face in his palm, your heart skipping a happy beat.
Gods, he looked irresistible.
He had put on his breeches, but his white linen shirt was half open, letting you peek at his chiseled chest. His curly hair was tousled thanks to last night’s—and this morning’s—activities, and there was a mischievous light gleaming in his eyes as he looked at you, tracing the line of your bottom lip.
You frowned, willing yourself to focus.
“I don’t suppose anyone has told you this,” you said, sticking your nose in the air, “but a lady needs her own time to get ready to be seen in public.”
“A lady or my lady?”
A smile curled your lips before you could stop it, and you pointed in the direction of the door, making him whine.
“I’ve been away from you for a week!”
You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t currently battling yourself not to drag him back to bed. “That was of your own making.”
“Just a moment!”
“That, my sweet wife, is a cruel lie,” he murmured, leaning to brush his lips against yours. A pleasant sigh left you, the familiar warmth blooming in your lower stomach, your mind going blank once again as it always did whenever Robb kissed you. Your body moved at its own accord; you threw your arms over his broad shoulders so that you could pull him closer, ready to lose yourself in his arms but a knock on the door snapped you out of it and made you pull back. Robb blindly chased your lips as you pressed a hand on his chest to push him back again, turning your head.
You went under Robb’s arm to get away from him, whirling on your heels before you stepped back, clasping your hands behind you with a grin. He raised his brows like he was warning you.
“Do not—” he started, but before he could finish his sentence, you had already swung the door open to beam at your maid. She was a sweet girl, only a couple years younger than you. Just like the other northerners you had met, she wasn’t very fond of sharing too much, nor did she jump at the opportunity to gossip unlike what you were used to back in the Reach, but you were certain you were going to be friends soon enough.
“Good morrow Kyra!” you chirped. “My lord husband was just leaving, you may come in.”
Kyra stepped in and curtsied.
“M’lord. M’lady.”
“And I shall see you, my wife,” he said, kissing your temple as he walked past you and left the room. You turned to Kyra, looking down to pretend to fix the silky skirt of your nightgown.
Your grin widened at the look of utter betrayal on Robb’s face. “I shall see you at breakfast, my husband.”
“Kyra, would you mind telling the maids to draw me a bath?” you asked. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could help me take off my necklace, thank you.”
With the King and his court arriving next week, Lady Stark was busy beyond words. She had to foresee anything and everything about their visit, and while you had been following her like her shadow to learn and help out if needed, you also had your own duties.
While the preparations were being made for the feasts upon the King’s arrival, Wintertown could not be expected to put everything on hold, especially with the arrival of autumn. Thus, you and your ladies were tasked with preparing certain supplies for the smallfolk. The baskets mostly consisted of blankets and food, and while back in the south your father had certain people responsible for overseeing such help, in the north, it fell upon Lady Stark—and per her request, you.
You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t surprise you, but you figured it was just one of the many differences between the south and the north.
Everyone did something here, regardless of who they were.
Your ladies-in-waiting were already in the granary, and you had every intention to go join them when you stepped out into the yard after having a short conversation with Lady Stark, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you caught the sight of Theon sparring with Jon while Bran watched them and Robb sat beside him, no doubt having just finished sparring with either of them. You could feel your heart skip a happy beat as you stole a look in the direction of the granary, but the urge to be with Robb—fleeting as it would be, for mere minutes—overcame your hesitation. You made your way to him, a smile twitching his lips the moment you entered his sight and sat beside him.
“Hello,” you said. “I figured I could take some fresh air before I went inside, I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he said quickly while Bran waved at you, still quite shy. You gave him a warm smile, both your and his attention turning to Jon when he blocked Theon’s strike with his sword, pushing him hard enough to make him stumble back.
“But will it happen?” Bran insisted while you rested your head on Robb’s shoulder and he pressed his lips on top of your head, sneaking an arm around your waist to subtly pull you closer. Jon rolled his eyes.
“Of course not, Bran.”
“You never know,” Theon sang and Bran huffed.
“Even if father says so?”
“Father won’t say so.”
“He said so to Robb.”
“He asked me,” Robb corrected him, “it’s not the same thing.”
“What are we talking about?” you asked and Bran turned to you with a scowl on his face.
“Jon getting wed.”
“I’m not getting wed.”
“Silas said he was the one who approved Robb,” Bran said. “And if Robb had to approve your future lady…”
Robb let out a scoff. “I don’t think that falls on me.”
“There’s usually more things to consider than your older brother approving someone,” you pointed out. “Silas saying that isn’t the whole truth.”
“But Jon, would you have to wed Ser Tallhart’s daughter if father said so?”
You bit back a laugh at the exasperation on Jon’s face. While you didn’t know the details of how he and Silas separated, it was quite obvious that Jon’s attention wouldn’t belong to anyone else for a long time, judging by how sulky he had been since your brother left. As much as you wanted him to share his feelings with you, you figured he didn’t want you or anyone else to know, so you had to keep your silence despite seeing his sadness.
Perhaps you could imply you would keep his secret, but you would have to earn his trust for that.
“Ser Tallhart’s daughter?” you asked, making Theon let out a laugh.
“I doubt that’ll happen, Bran.”
“But!” Bran insisted. “But listen. Silas approved Robb, right? And you already said, about Ser Tallhart’s daughter, that Robb approved.”
Robb made a face. “I didn’t say I approved.”
“But Theon said that you called her pleasant and said southern girls and northern girls are different,” Bran said, making your head shoot up from Robb’s shoulder. “You approved, and Jon doesn’t have a southern betrothed, and...”
The look of panic that settled on all three men would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fury crashing down on you. Theon and Jon stopped sparring as if someone had just barked an order at them, and Robb’s eyes widened as he stared at Bran at a loss for words. Bran seemed oblivious to their reactions, ranting about how Jon couldn’t wed because that’d mean he’d see him less like Robb, while you tried your hardest to keep your expression calm, considering you were in public.
Ser Tallhart’s daughter, was it?
“…Ah,” you said and arched a brow at Robb, an overly sweet smile curling your lips. “Is that what Robb said?”
One simple observer would’ve thought Robb was being accused of treason with the way he shook his head vigorously.
“That’s not what I—Bran, you make it sound very different than what actually took place.”
“But Theon and Jon were saying—”
“I said nothing.”
“I’m not involved in this conversation.” Theon and Jon spoke at the same time, desperate to absolve themselves of any crime but Robb wasn’t so lucky and by the looks of it, he knew it.
“I just said for—for Jon, she looked pleasant.” He waved a hand in Jon’s direction without even sparing him a glance while you tilted your head, still smiling. “For Jon only. I wasn’t even—”
“My lady?” Alys’ voice reached you, making you look over your shoulder. “Maester Luwin says we may start if you’re ready.”
“Of course,” you said as if your stomach wasn’t churning, the familiar ache whenever you were nervous back in its full strength. You got up from the bench to follow Alys, leaving Robb dumbfounded but he snapped out of it before you could reach the granary and caught up with you.
“Wait—”
“I cannot,” you said airily without a glance at him, “I have things to do.”
“That sounded wrong, back there.” He stepped in front of you to block your path, making you narrow your eyes. “I didn’t call her—I did call her pleasant, but only because I was trying to encourage Jon. He’s been sulkier than usual, and Theon thinks it’s because he didn’t like any southern girls at our wedding.”
“And one look at Theon makes you think of wisdom?”
“No,” he admitted after a beat. “Not really. But what else could be the reason?”
Your brother was the reason, but it wasn’t like you could tell Robb that. Besides, that wasn’t the point, you were not going to stand here and get into an argument where the whole yard could see, you were way too trained for that. Jealousy was not mesmerizing, most of the time it held the opposite effect. Lady Olenna used to say that the more a lady looked bothered, the more her influence slipped away. Grasping too tightly would signal to the court that you were insecure, and insecurity was unbecoming of a lady.
Which meant that even though it took every ounce of control in you, you couldn’t appear angry.
“I don’t find anyone more pleasant than you,” Robb added, almost breathless. “My lady, surely you must know that.”
You could swear the words you were not supposed to say were clawing at your throat, but you took a deep breath and forced yourself to smile.
“Alright.”
Robb pulled back slightly, his eyes darting over your face.
“…Alright?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice holding no trace of grudge unlike your heart. “And if you’ll excuse me, I must be going now.”
“But—” He stopped you, holding your arm before you could turn around. “But we’re alright?”
As much as you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, that also would appear very unladylike, so you nodded your head instead.
“Of course,” you chirped. “How selfless of you to assess and compare ladies for Jon, I’m certain he’s grateful.”
“See, that comment right there doesn’t assure me that we’re alright—”
“And though I’d love to hear about the differences between southern and northern ladies, I really must be going now,” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his grip. “Have a good day, my lord.”
With that, you walked away from him, anger still pulsing in your temples.
Who even was Ser Tallhart’s daughter? No one had told you anything about her.
There was no wonder your ladies-in-waiting would know about her, seeing that they had likely crossed paths at a wedding or a feast. If you were back home, you could’ve asked your friends, but here in Winterfell you had to be more careful than that.
Any wrong question could lead to many speculations.
Not to mention, you still didn’t trust them. Alys, Wylla and Lyra seemed rather sweet, but when it came to Jorelle and Barbrey, you were still very cautious. Barbrey was going to have to work hard to prove her loyalty to you, and Jorelle…
Well.
You weren’t certain that you could ever lower your guard with her.
It wasn’t even about her at this point, it was more about her family. You knew very well that at any given moment, her family would push her forward if they knew they could undermine you, Lady Cerwyn’s condescending manners were a proof of it. Not only that, the whole North would support them, as they were already fond of Jorelle and her family.
Your family, however, were outsiders to the north, and no matter how much help they would send when the winter came, northerners didn’t trust or like outsiders.
You were pulled away from your thoughts when Wylla spoke.
“That’s a very beautiful necklace.”
Your head snapped up, and you willed a lovesick smile on your face despite the storm in your head.
“Aw thank you,” you said, dipping the spoon into the salt bag to pour some of it into the small container before you walked to place it in a basket. “Robb kindly brought me a gift from Torrhen’s Square.”
Alys and Barbrey exchanged smirks while Lyra and Jorelle folded the blankets to put into the rest of the empty baskets.
“Do you know…” you trailed off, nibbling on your lip. “Have any of you been to Torrhen’s Square before?”
Jorelle lifted her head for only a moment before she returned her attention to the blankets, clearly deciding against whatever she was going to say. Alys nodded her head.
“I have, once.”
“I don’t think I’ve met House Tallhart,” you mused. “I’ve heard high praises though.”
“Did Gilliane come to the wedding?” Lyra asked and you turned your head.
“Gilliane?”
“Their oldest daughter, my lady,” Wylla said. “And no, she didn’t.”
“I think only Erena came,” Alys said. “I’m certain I caught a glimpse of her—her younger sister.”
“I’ve met too many people to count at the wedding, I’m afraid,” you said. “Perhaps I met them and don’t remember it.”
“Erena is very sweet, Gilliane however…”
“Lyra,” Alys warned her and she held up her hands.
“I said nothing.”
You tilted your head. “Oh, now I must know.”
Barbrey grinned. “Gilliane is very emotional.”
“It’s no crime against the king to be emotional!” Alys insisted while Lyra made a face.
“It should be.”
Jorelle bit back her smile.
“Gilliane gets affected by anything and everything,” she told you. “A bit of a crier.”
“And she falls in love with someone different at every Harvest Feast,” Wylla added and fixed her hair in an exaggerated manner. “And if anyone would like to ask me why she didn’t come to the wedding, I have the answer.”
“How?”
“One of her brothers holds affections for me, and he’s a gossip.”
Alys’ jaw dropped. “Which brother?”
“Benton.” Wylla reached out to grab an apple to take a bite, coaxing a laugh out of you while Lyra narrowed her eyes.
“Have you started living in Wintertown and we don’t know about it?”
“It’s just one apple!”
“Don’t let Maester Luwin see you,” Jorelle said and Wylla shrugged her shoulders.
“I am famished, would he rather if I fainted?”
“That is a very sound logic I admit,” you teased them and Wylla gestured at you.
“See?”
“But in return, we hear why she didn’t come to the wedding,” you added, plopping down on the nearest chair and cracking your neck with a grimace. “Sounds interesting.”
“Alright, so…” Wylla jumped to sit on the table. “Benton says she was heartbroken.”
“That’s no news, she gets heartbroken whenever someone looks at her wrong.”
“Jo!”
“Am I lying?”
“No wonder she and I can’t get along well, she has too many feelings for my taste,” Lyra mused and Alys pressed her fist on her lips in an attempt to hide her smile. Barbrey leaned in.
“Who was she heartbroken over?”
“And that’s what is so interesting about it,” Wylla said and turned to you. “Don’t misunderstand this, because I would know if there was anything between them, but…”
You pulled back, your mouth half agape. “Robb?”
The whole room erupted into chaos.
“Wylla!”
“Have they even spoken to each other before?”
“I have never ever seen them exchange words in any wedding or feast.”
“Yeah, Benton says the same. She was admiring him from afar, pushed her father to make an offer of betrothal, but…”
Well, if that was the pleasant girl, at least now you knew she was no real threat to your position or your heart.
“A lot of fathers made—” Barbrey started but Alys elbowed her, stealing a look at Jorelle whose calm face was impossible to read as usual. Lyra shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ll say it if you won’t. Everyone’s fathers made proposals.”
“Lyra, don’t say that!”
“What, like she doesn’t know?”
“I do know,” you assured them. “And I don’t mind at all. If Robb held a grudge over everyone who made a proposal to wed me, our marriage would be cold until we’re old and gray. That’s simply how such arrangements work, it makes sense that families made proposals, I could never hold grudges over that.”
At least that was what Lady Olenna would want you to say.
Untroubled and amused.
That’s what you had to appear when it came to possible former betrothals; untroubled and amused.
Even though what you felt was the complete opposite of that.
“And I don’t want any of you to guard your tongues around me,” you added in a haste, as if you yourself hadn’t been trained to guard your tongue around people since you could speak. “Not when it’s just us, at least.”
No one back in the south would believe or entertain such thought. In fact, if you and Margaery were ever told what you had just said, you both would’ve taken it as an insult to be seen so naïve, but this was the north.
And you could not seem resentful or insecure.
“Now,” you said and grabbed an apple to bite it as well. “Tell me more about this person. I have been suffering from lack of gossip ever since I came here, and I’d like to catch up.”
By dinner time, you had learned everything there was to learn about House Tallhart and their daughters, and thankfully, nothing seemed alarming.
But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry at Robb.
And although Lady Olenna would’ve advised you otherwise, you were going to make sure he knew exactly how you felt.
Lord Stark had made it much easier, albeit not on purpose. He had kept Robb with him the whole day for meetings and petitions, and you had managed to excuse yourself to your own bedchambers right after dinner before he could come back. A week away from home must have meant Lord Stark had much to catch up on, because it was nearly midnight by the time you heard Robb’s heavy gait pass your door. You raised your brows, keeping your attention on your book in your lap when the door to his bedchambers opened, then closed after a couple of complete silence. His footsteps approached your door before he opened it and peeked his head in.
“What are you doing here?”
You flipped the page without pulling your gaze off the book. “Reading.”
“Here?”
“Seems that way.”
“But…” He stepped inside. “But I’m back.”
“Hasn’t escaped me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“It’s my bedchambers,” you replied. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t find you in—are you still angry at me?”
“No,” you lied through your teeth. “I simply decided to sleep here tonight.”
Judging by the look on his face, you might as well have announced you meant to annul your marriage: “You’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“I am,” you said, pretending to be engrossed in your book though you barely had any idea what you were reading. “And you can sleep in your own bedchambers and think about Ser Tallhart’s daughter all you want.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I told you, I only said that for—”
“I care not.” You pointed at the door, your gaze fixed on the page. “Leave me be.”
He lingered there for a moment as if he was trying to find the best approach, then took a step towards the bed.
“My sweet wife—” he started, but stopped dead on his tracks when you lifted your head to glare daggers at him. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.
“I was trying to encourage Jon.”
“I heard you the first time,” you said and closed to book to give him a snake like smile. “Now that you’re here though, what exactly is so different between southern and northern girls? Since you are an expert, you should have no issues enlightening me?”
“That’s—” He pointed back at the door like Jon was standing outside, stumbling over his words. “I simply said, if Jon didn’t find any southern girls to his liking, northern girls might be uh—different?” The last word came out like an uncertain question. “In terms of his uh, his…affections.”
You raised your brows, still glaring at him.
“I swear it was for Jon only.”
“Wonderful,” you deadpanned. “You may leave now. Have pleasant dreams.”
A ghost of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re jealou—”
“Robb if you finish that sentence, I will make you suffer in a very southern way, and then you’ll know the actual difference between northern and southern girls,” you growled, and he held up his hands, biting back his smile.
“Be angry at me if you wish,” he said, stepping closer to the bed, “but we’re not sleeping in different beds.”
“I’m not coming there, and you’re not welcomed here.”
“Oh you are coming there,” he said and before you could so much as blink, he had thrown you over his shoulder, a surprised shriek spilling from your lips.
“Put me down this instant!” you exclaimed, your voice going high-pitched while he made his way to the door. You pressed your palms on his shoulder to throw him off his balance and wiggle out of his grip, but much to your frustration, it didn’t work. “How dare you? This is actual disrespect, you—”
“You left me no other choice,” he stated, stepping out of your bedchambers into the hallway. “Whose fault is it? Not mine.”
“Put me down!”
He turned, but stopped in an instant, and though you hoped it was because he decided to listen to you, the real reason turned out to be very different. He shifted his weight and let out a curt cough like he was trying to regain his composure.
“Father.”
Oh Gods.
Oh Gods no.
Lord Stark could not see you like this, absolutely not.
“…Robb.”
Alright then, Lord Stark was indeed seeing you like this.
You shut your eyes tight, half hoping it would make both of you disappear from Lord Stark’s vision, scrunching up your face.
“Good evening, Lord Stark,” you squealed out, the angle Robb was holding you in preventing you from seeing your father-in-law, perhaps by mercy.
“My wife and I were just…” Robb started, but even you could tell he had no idea where the sentence would go. “We were uh, going to sleep.”
Well, Robb was a terrible liar, so at least you could find some solace in that for the future of your marriage, especially now that you were going to have to spend the rest of the said marriage not being able to look at his father in the eye. A silence fell upon the hallway before Lord Stark heaved a sigh as if he had the realm’s weight on his shoulders, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture the exasperation on his face.
“I saw nothing,” he ended up saying. “I saw nothing, and I am walking away before I see anything.”
You heard Lord Stark go past him and you watched him walk to the other end of the hallway without sparing a glance back. A whine climbed your throat and you slumped over his shoulder, hiding your face in your hands until Robb entered his—your—bedchambers and dropped you on the bed. You grabbed the nearest pillow to throw at him, your cheeks burning.
“I won’t be able to look at your father anymore, Robb!”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“He—that—” you stammered, gesturing at the door. “He saw!”
“Aye, and he doesn’t mind,” Robb said, catching the other pillow in the air. “To repeat, you gave me no other choice!”
You gritted your teeth and turned to Grey Wind who was watching you both from beside the fireplace.
“Grey Wind, up,” you commanded and he leaped on the bed, making Robb frown.
“What are you doing?”
“He will sleep between us.”
“No he won’t.”
“Yes he will,” you said and pulled the fur covers on top of you, the direwolf curling up next to you. “You can sleep on your side, or you can sleep somewhere else dreaming of Ser Tallhart’s pleasant daughter, your choice.”
“That’s a vile accusation and a terrible insult—Grey Wind, down.”
“Grey Wind, stay,” you shot back and Grey Wind let out a huff, looked between you and Robb, then yawned and nudged your arm with his snout. “See? He’s staying.”
Robb threw his head back with a groan while you pulled your pillow to yourself.
“Lamb…”
“I’m too sleepy to argue.”
“Then just listen?”
“I shall not,” you said, closing your eyes. “Goodnight.”
“But…”
“Goodnight, I said.”
Robb exhaled through his nose impatiently and moved about in the room, his heavy steps enough of a clue to what he was doing. Despite trying to control yourself, you still ended up opening an eye to watch him take off his shirt, but you shut your eyes again before he could see you gawking at him. He got under the furs, and after a couple of seconds you dared steal a peek again to find him half naked, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the candlelight, oblivious to the way your gaze followed down his chiseled body while you bit at your lip.
Oh well.
Just because you were angry at him didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the sight.
Summary:- It’s a rainy day and you are cuddled with Leon watching a movie.
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The rain had been falling since morning, soft and steady. The air carried the faint scent of freshly made tea and something sweet lingering from earlier, and the low hum of the television filled the background, blending perfectly with the calm of the afternoon. It was the kind of day that made you want to stay exactly where you were, wrapped up in comfort, with nowhere else to be and nothing else that mattered.
You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that had somehow become yours over time, even though it technically belonged to both of you. The movie had been playing for nearly twenty minutes, but neither of you were really paying attention.
“Are you even watching this?” you mumbled, eyes still fixed on the screen.
A quiet laugh came from beside you. “I was,” Leon said, shifting slightly so his shoulder pressed more firmly against yours. “Then you stole the blanket.”
“I did not steal it,” you protested softly, tugging it higher around your chin. “You surrendered it.”
“Ah, yes. Willingly froze myself for your comfort.”
You smiled, finally glancing over. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times, and there was that look in his eyes the one that made everything else feel less important.
Without thinking, you leaned into him more, resting your head against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything this time, just adjusted the blanket so it covered both of you, giving you a warm kiss on the top of your head.
The movie continued to play, voices filling the room, but it became background noise something distant compared to the quiet rhythm of breathing, the warmth of being close.
“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice softer now.
“Hmm?”
“If we stay like this all day… you won’t complain, right?” It was rare Leon would have a day off especially as he loved to be consumed in work. However, over the years you’ve helped him in making him relax and to recharge before work would give him another mission. He knew how stressed you would get when he would be overworked and forced to go to these long missions where he would come back exhausted. Now you became strict on him relaxing and spending days doing nothing. He complained at first but now knowing he would get to spend whole days with just you made him happy.
You tilted your head slightly to look at him. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“Snacks,” you said, completely serious.
He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. My love is conditional.”
“Very,” you replied, but your fingers found his hand under the blanket anyway, intertwining without hesitation. His thumb rubbed small circles on your hand.
He squeezed your hand gently. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, time slowed down stretching between shared warmth, quiet jokes, and the kind of comfort that didn’t need words.
After a moment, he shifted slightly, turning just enough to look at you properly. There was something different in his expression now quieter, more certain.
“Hey,” he said again.
You hummed, glancing up at him.
He hesitated for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully, then smiled softly, a little shy.
“You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, right?”
The words settled gently between you, warmer than the blanket, softer than the rain.
You blinked, caught off guard, your heart doing that small, impossible thing it always did around him.
You didn’t answer right away. Your hands automatically reached out to grab his cheeks, softly creasing them as he closed his eyes, savouring your touch. You leaned in, pressing a quiet, lingering kiss against his lips, feeling him smile. When you opened your eyes, you saw his soft blue eyes admiring you, full of love. After a moment you settled back against him, a little closer than before. He cuddled into you, running his hands through your hair while you traced your finger tips against his chest.
“ I will love you forever.” You whispered into him, kissing his stubbled jawline, earning a grin from him.
And just like that, the world outside faded completely.
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A/N:- Hi guys! It’s my first Leon imagine!! Hopefully it’s good!! I thought the idea was cute! Do let me know what you think!
Summary: Some battles don’t end when the mission does. When Leon returns home carrying more than he can bear, you stay by his side through the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and every fragile moment in between – loving him through the parts of himself he struggles to face.
Word count: 2k
Featuring: comfort, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, post-nightmare comfort, emotional vulnerability, gentle touch, hugging, kissing, helping Leon shower, established relationship.
A/N: In my HCs, this poor man rarely has peaceful nights, so I decided to put my own visualization into writing, where we properly comfort him. Insert your favourite Leon here. English is not my native language, sorry for any mistakes.
Leon’s returns from missions were always difficult for him. Coming back to reality after all the horrors he’d endured never happened overnight. And while your presence was the best remedy he had, sometimes even that wasn’t enough – sometimes the memories haunted him in the one place you couldn’t follow him: his dreams.
Leon had come home at dawn. He hadn’t slept a wink that night, only curling up against your back and gently stroking you, careful not to wake you. During the day, he’d been distant – lost in thought, absent-minded, needing a few extra seconds to answer even the simplest of your questions.
You knew he couldn’t help it. All you could do was stay by his side and surround him with care every step of the way – and that’s exactly what you did, never leaving him alone for a moment. Though he couldn’t quite put it into words, you knew he was grateful; the way he held you close, lingering in your warm, safe embrace, said more than a thousand words ever could.
By evening, his exhaustion was showing badly. He was noticeably worn out, dropping things from his hands, struggling to focus. When he sat with his laptop on his lap and you watched him take three times longer than usual to read a single email, squinting at the screen, you shut it with one firm motion and ordered him to bed.
It always started the same way – lying beside him, running your fingers through his hair while he tossed and turned endlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. At times like these, none of them felt right. All that mattered was that you were there.
Once his eyelids began to droop, you gently pulled him against you, guiding his head onto your chest just the way he liked it.
Listening to your heartbeat and feeling your arms wrapped tightly around him was always the fastest way to lull him to sleep. Soon enough, his quiet, steady breathing filled the room. Stroking his scalp gently, you drifted off not long after.
You were woken by a sharp shove, your eyes flying open in alarm.
Leon was lying slightly below you now, on his back – he’d accidentally hit you in his sleep, his arm now resting across your stomach. One glance was enough to tell you he was trapped in another nightmare.
His breathing was quick, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, muttering under his breath as his head tossed side to side. You sat up and placed a hand against his cheek, which only made him flinch and roll onto his side, turning his back to you.
You scooted closer, stroking him slowly from elbow to shoulder. When you noticed him calming slightly, you decided not to wake him, afraid he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again afterward.
You watched him for a while, catching half-formed words slipping from his lips every so often – “shit,” “don’t.” You wanted so badly to pull him free from that endless loop of memories. It hurt knowing he was reliving it all again, even when he was no longer physically trapped in that hell.
Eventually, exhaustion won over, and you drifted off again lightly, one arm around his waist, your hand clasped tightly with his.
The next time you woke was to exactly what you’d feared most.
The darkness and silence of your bedroom were shattered by a shout –
“Let fucking go!”
Your eyes snapped open as Leon shot upright in bed, breathing heavily, head hanging low, his hair completely hiding his face. Instinctively, you reached out to brush it aside.
“Leon, it’s okay, it’s me – ” you started, but the second your fingers brushed his chin, he jolted violently and recoiled, bracing himself on his hands.
He lifted his head, but he wasn’t looking at you – his gaze was vacant, panicked.
You reached for him again, trying to grab his hand, but before you could, Leon scrambled to the edge of the bed in a split second, arm reaching toward the nightstand.
“Where’s my fucking gun,” he muttered frantically.
“Leon,” you repeated, knowing your words didn’t matter right now – he just needed to hear your voice until he found his way back to you.
He tried to stand, but the hand he braced against the nightstand slipped, knocking the lamp down with it. Leon stumbled forward and crashed onto the floor.
“Fuck – are you okay?” You jumped out of bed and rushed to him, kneeling beside and grabbing his shoulder firmly.
For a moment, he stayed there, palms against the floor, before sitting up and leaning against the bed frame.
His eyes were glassy, lips parted, hair plastered messily to forehead. But this time, he was looking directly at you. His mouth moved, though no words came out.
You placed one hand on his chest – heart was pounding violently beneath your palm – and the other against his cheek, stroking gently.
“I’m here, Leon. We’re home. You’re safe.”
He exhaled shakily, lifting his hand to place it over yours, as if reassuring himself you were real. That he was real, too.
You gave him a moment to breathe before sliding your hand to the back of his head and pulling him gently against your chest, letting him bury himself into you.
He gave in without hesitation, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other stayed planted on the floor to keep from putting all his weight on you.
You rubbed slow circles into his back – not lightly. You wanted him to feel your touch, grounding and undeniable.
It didn’t escape your notice that his shirt was nearly soaked through. His body trembled every so often, still shaking off the remnants of the nightmare.
Eventually, he pulled away, hand running through his hair.
“Sorry...” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
You simply squeezed his hand.
“We’ve talked about this. Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek deliberately.
He responded with a faint nod before standing, placing the fallen lamp back upright and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I... uh, gonna take a shower real quick,” he muttered, heading for the door.
“Want help?”
“No, ’m fine. Get back to sleep, hun,” he replied far too quickly before disappearing from sight.
You knew that even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was upset with himself for waking you in the middle of the night. Typical Leon. Instead of worrying about the fact he couldn’t sleep, he only cared that you had been disturbed.
You had no intention of listening to him and simply going back to bed – but you decided to give him a moment to breathe.
You opened the window to air out the room, fixed the blankets, grabbed a glass of water and set it by the bed, picked out a fresh shirt for him, then headed to the bathroom.
You found Leon sitting in the shower stall, his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, sitting motionless beneath the water.
“Hey,” you announced softly, not wanting to startle him.
Water streamed down his skin, hair soaked completely, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a drenched puppy.
“It’s cold over there without you. Don’t make me wait too long,” you said with a shy smile, crouching beside him so you were eye level.
He turned toward you, thoughtful.
“Just a minute. Almost done.”
“You don’t look very busy, Leon...” you laughed, flicking his nose gently.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head.
“Right.”
“Up. Let the expert handle this,” you said casually, standing and waiting for him to follow.
You angled the showerhead aside so the water only hit him and not you, then grabbed a sponge and your favorite body wash.
“And lavender?” he asked, sounding mildly betrayed.
“You had plenty of time to pick something else. Your loss,” you replied, dabbing foam against his chin.
He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
He stood still, watching your every movement as you carefully washed over his stomach and lower abdomen.
“Turn around, mister,” you ordered, and he obediently did as told while you began washing his back.
He was still tense – you could feel it in the way he held himself – so you took your time, making sure every touch was slow and deliberate.
You knew your touch meant everything to him. Though he’d never say it aloud, he’d probably only been waiting for you to come after him.
Only with you could he fully let his guard down. Only you were allowed to see this vulnerable side of him.
“There. Clean, pretty, and smelling nice. Out you go,” you declared, waiting with a towel.
Leon stepped out and took it from you, drying himself off.
The second he had his shirt and pajama pants on, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, hugging you tightly.
“Thanks. Needed that,” he admitted.
“I know,” you said smugly, puckering your lips expectantly for your reward.
Which didn’t come.
Instead, Leon kissed your forehead. Then your right cheek. Then your left – painfully slowly. Then your nose.
Only then did he glance down at your lips, now twisted into an exaggerated pout.
“So eager,” he chuckled quietly before finally pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. His hands wandered across your back.
“Come to bed,” you whispered, your lips still close enough to feel his breath.
He simply nodded, pressing one last peck to the corner of your mouth before leading you back toward the bedroom, his hand in yours.
You climbed into bed and lay back, waiting for him.
Leon sat on the edge first, sneaking a glance your way before drinking the water you’d left for him.
Then he finally climbed over you, settling his body between your spread legs, his head once again resting on your chest.
You ran your fingers through his hair, gently brushing it aside – it was still damp. If he left it like that, he’d wake up looking like he’d been struck by lightning. That sight never stopped amusing you.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment. “Am I crushing you?”
There was uncertainty in his voice. Remnants of guilt.
“With you here? Never better,” you chuckled, tracing your finger slowly along his jaw.
“I hate when you see me like this,” he murmured, tilting his head up to meet your eyes.
Even in the dim light, you could tell he was searching your face for reassurance – that you weren’t upset with him.
How could you ever be?
“You hate when I see my beloved husband? Because that’s what this comes down to, Leon. I don’t care if you’re angry, sad, or scared. I want to be by your side through all of it. For better or worse. Isn’t that what I promised when I made my vows to you?”.
“I know,” he whispered. He knew he couldn’t argue with that. He knew you were right.
Leon lifted your hand from his cheek and pressed a long, gentle kiss to your wedding ring.
“Luckiest man on earth...” he mumbled.
“Well, aside from stealing your shirts, I really don’t have many flaws,” you teased, returning the gesture by kissing his ring the same way.
You lay there quietly for a while, basking in each other’s warmth before Leon asked shyly –
“Will you scratch my back?”
“Sure.”
Keeping one hand at the back of his neck, you slipped the other beneath his shirt and began scratching gently, moving slowly up and down his back.
He answered with a pleased hum.
Twice, you tried to stop, thinking he’d fallen asleep – but each time he let out a sleepy, protesting groan, so you obediently continued, fighting off your own exhaustion.
Eventually, sleep claimed you both.
You slept peacefully, tangled together, until the first rays of morning began slipping through the bedroom curtains.
a/n: vincent valentine mentioned, literally busted when he first appeared in rebirth holy shit. and all he does is aura farm in advent children😭✌️ sorey it so short T^T
Vincent x reader small hcs + scenario ^^
-- now playing: End- kinoue64
He's awkward.
-only being in love once and being rejected.
-being asleep for a few decades
-stoic
-not very good with telling tone
-avoidant
-loner
-weird
But he's hot!!!! Vincent felt something towards you, as you both traveled in the group and shared quarters. It was only natural for him to completely avoid you at all costs.
It soon became too aparent Vincent was avoiding you, which led you to confiding in Tifa. She suggested just talking to him.
"I try, but he just inches away from me" you explain but end up having to show her. And by the end you ended up on the other side of the room.
"oh, so he literally runs away?"
"yeah? I don't think I did anything wrong Tifa-"
"maybe he's so in love with you he avoiding you"
"what"
--
Since you and Tifas small conversation, you couldn't help but think she was feeding into your delusions. But you would see his small glances towards you, his faint blush, always making sure you went in front and got the bed (he'd sleep standing up).
Soon you felt your heart flutter at the thought or sight to him. He was like Cloud who you liked for a little... but a little edgier, and older.
It took while until you decided to talk to him, you had to catch him while he was in the room.
Since sometimes he'd escape through the window.
"Vincent" you say opening the door as he sat politely on the bed. Only to hear a grumble in response, "I-I uhm, heard from a little bird you liked me"
He immediately stood up and hesitantly avoided your gaze, "who"
"just.. uhm word went around"
"I see, I assume you've come to tell me to stop"
"N-no! Not at all, I also think your charming."
"theres nothing about me thats charming"
"well, uhm... you hold the door open, make sure I'm in front, I always get the bed, I'm fed, and I see how you look at me"
"...I suppose a few things"
--
Vincent is fluffy
(perhaps a bit more after Advent children, he'd be able to focus on you)
-He likes to leave you items at your door before or after returning from a mission. Like a single rose, a letter, perhaps a meal. Anything to keep you satisfied while he's away.
-He loves quietly, with acts of service over explicitly telling you he loves you.
-You two live together, and he's always grateful for a s/o like you. Always waking up to make breakfast, and tidy up.
-he'll wake up early to watch the sunrise as another day starts in the slums.
-He sleeps like he's dead .
-He likes going on nature walks, and hear you ramble about certain wildflowers sprouting on the path.
-it takes him awhile to adjust to living normally rather than in a coffin under an abandoned mansion.
-Asks you about cell phones and asked if you could purchase matching ones.
he'll have a little charm that reminds him of you on it.
-When he is home, he likes to go outback and feed the stray cats, shop for flowers to replace the old ones on the dinner table, stay at home and simply be with you.
Admire, love and simply adore you for what your bring into his otherwise dull life. Never thinking he could live this way, normally- domestically.
With you he sees the small things that make it bearable to be him.
--
It was sunset, the oranges, pinks and yellows painted the sky- yet Vincent only saw you.
"your always staring Vincent"
"i'm merely captivated by you"
"you always say the samething"
"its true" he replied quietly.
"And here you said you weren't charming"
"perhaps a little" he said letting himself hold your hand.
Order food. Sit on the couch. Complain about how Leon refuses to pick a restaurant unless it’s “life or death.”
Normal.
You were curled up in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you, wearing one of his hoodies again,because of course you were while scrolling through his phone while he was in the shower. He had tossed it at you without a second thought.
“Order whatever you want,” he’d said.
Which, in Leon language, meant: don’t even look at the price.
You opened one of the delivery food apps, clicked around and debated between two places and then you tapped the wrong thing.
A notification popped up at the top, something from his banking app and before you could think about it, your finger followed it.
One tap.
That was it.
That’s all it took.
The screen loaded.
And your brain… completely shut off.For a second, you didn’t process it.It was just numbers.....A lot of numbers......Too many numbers.
Your eyes narrowed, like maybe you were reading it wrong. Like maybe there was a decimal point you missed. Like maybe....You leaned closer.
No.
No, that was real.
Your stomach dropped.
“…What the hell.”
You sat there, frozen, staring at the screen like it had personally offended you. Like it had lied to you somehow. Like Leon had secretly been… what, a billionaire? A crime lord? A very well-paid idiot?
You didn’t even hear the shower turn off.
Didn’t hear the door open.
Didn’t hear his footsteps.
“Hey—”
You flinched so hard you nearly dropped the phone.
Leon paused mid-step, hair damp, a towel slung low around his hips, another one draped over his shoulders. Water still clung to his skin, running down his chest in slow lines, but the second he saw your face he knew something was wrong.
“…You okay?”
You didn’t answer right away.You just slowly turned your head toward him.Still holding his phone.Still staring like you’d just uncovered a government conspiracy.
“…Leon.”
He blinked once. “…Yeah?”
“Why do you have that much money.”
There was a beat of silence and then he exhaled.
Not panicked.
Not guilty.
Just… mildly inconvenienced.
“Oh.”
You stared at him.
Oh?
“That’s it?” you snapped, sitting up straighter. “Oh?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, walking closer like this was a normal conversation. Like you hadn’t just discovered he could probably buy a small country if he felt like it.
“I didn’t think you’d go into that app.”
“I didn’t mean to!” you shot back. “I was trying to order food, not uncover your secret life as....what even is this?!”
You held the phone up like evidence.
He glanced at it then shrugged. “Government contracts,” he said. “Hazard pay. Private security work. Some… consulting stuff.”
You blinked. “…Some consulting stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“Leon.”
“Yeah?”
“You have ‘I could ruin the economy of a small nation’ money.”
He huffed a quiet laugh at that, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “It’s not like I spend it,” he said.
You stared at him, then slowly lowered the phone blinking a few times .“…Leon.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“You bought me a four-hundred-dollar plushie yesterday.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “And I’d do it again.”
Your mouth fell open.
He reached out, taking the phone gently from your hand and setting it on the table like it didn’t matter at all, like none of this mattered compared to you.
“You’re stuck on the number,” he said, voice softer now. “I’m not.”
Your brows pulled together. “How are you not?!”
His hands found your thighs, thumbs brushing absent circles through the fabric of your leggings as he leaned in slightly. “Because I know what it’s for.”
Your breath caught. “For what?” you asked, quieter now.
His gaze lifted to yours, steady. Certain. “For you.”
Your heart stuttered. “Leon…”
“I mean it.” His voice dropped, something more serious settling in. “I didn’t survive all that just to sit on money. I didn’t crawl out of that mess just to… hoard numbers in an account.”
His jaw tightened slightly, like the memory still lived too close under his skin. "I got out,” he continued. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” His hand slid from your thigh to your hip, pulling you a little closer to the edge of the couch. “So yeah,” he said, softer now, “I’m gonna spend it on making your life easier. Happier. Safer.”
Your chest tightened. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of investment,” you muttered weakly.
He shook his head immediately. “No.” His hand came up, tilting your chin gently so you had to look at him.“You’re my wife.”
The way he said it, not flashy of course, not dramatic....just the truth.
“I don’t care about the money,” he continued. “I care about what it does for you. If it means you don’t stress, don’t settle, don’t have to second-guess what you deserve?”
His thumb brushed your cheek. “Then it’s worth every damn dollar.”
Your eyes softened, but you still huffed a little, trying to regain some footing. “…You’re insane.”
“Yeah,” he said easily.
A small pause.Then your gaze flicked back toward his phone.“…How much is actually in there?”
He followed your look.Then looked back at you as he shrugged. “…Enough.”
“Leon.”
He exhaled through his nose, like he knew you weren’t going to drop it. “…Enough that you don’t ever have to worry again.”
That did it.
That was the moment it really hit.
Not the number.
Not the shock.
But the intent.
You swallowed.
“…You really meant it,” you murmured. “This whole time.”
His expression softened again, all sharp edges gone. “Yeah.”
You sat there for a second, processing, then shook your head slowly, almost laughing under your breath. “I married a rich man and didn’t even know it.”
He smirked faintly. “Guess I should’ve led with that, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged upward.Then you leaned forward slightly, bumping your forehead against his chest. “…You’re still buying dinner,” you muttered.
His arms came around you instantly, pulling you in like it was instinct. “Obviously.....Order whatever you want.”
You snorted softly against him. "Are you sure?"
Leon was still standing right there in front of you, damp hair curling slightly at the ends, towel low on his hips, when you tilted your head up at him with that look half teasing, half genuinely testing the waters.
“…sooo,” you dragged out, fingers absently playing with the hem of his hoodie on your body, “can I order from, like… multiple places?”
He didn’t even blink. “I don’t care.” The answer came so fast, so easy, it made your grin widen instantly.
“Sweet…” you hummed, already reaching for his phone again before pausing mid-motion, glancing back up at him with a flicker of something more vulnerable. “And you won’t think I’m being fat?”
Leon actually froze, not in a confused way. No, more in a what the hell did you just say way. His brows pulled together, lips parting slightly like he was trying to process how that sentence had even made it out of your mouth. Then he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head as he stepped closer.
“Are you serious right now?”
You shrugged a little, suddenly sheepish. “I’m just saying—”
His hand came up, firm but gentle, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up so you had to look at him. “I think you’re the hottest woman I know,” he said, voice steady, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. No hesitation. No joking. Just truth.
You watched him closely, heart pounding in your chest. His thumb brushed over your cheek, softer now.
“And for the record,” he added, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth, “watching my wife get excited about food is one of my favorite things.”
A smile formed on your lips as you let your eyes drift to the ground.
“…oh.”
He huffed quietly, leaning down just enough to press a quick, warm kiss to your lips before pulling back.
“Also,” he added, already turning toward the bedroom to get dressed, “don’t forget to tip them well.”
You beamed.
“I love you,” you chirped, leaning forward to catch him for another quick kiss before he could get too far.
He barely had time to react before you were already spinning back toward the couch, grabbing his phone with full intent.
“I know,” he called back, voice carrying a quiet warmth that lingered even as he disappeared down the hall.
And just like that, it began.
You tucked yourself back into the corner of the couch, legs folded under you, phone in hand like you were about to commit a very serious crime.
First app, then scrolling. “Ooooh, okay…” you muttered to yourself, eyes lighting up. “We’re starting strong.”
You added something for yourself then something that Leon loves then paused. “…Wait, no—this place too.”
Then another place. “Oh my god, they still have that.Leon likes this..okay, adding that.”
Another restaurant.
You gasped softly. “No way they have this combo—yeah, absolutely.”
At this point you were fully invested, tongue poking slightly against your lip in concentration as you built what could only be described as a feast.
Different cuisines.
Different cravings.
All the things you both loved but never got at the same time.
By the time you leaned back against the couch, you were surrounded by confirmation screens, receipts, and delivery estimates that staggered across the next hour like a perfectly timed event.
You looked down at the total, shifting your body as you dug your nails into his palm then slowly glanced toward the hallway.
“…He said he didn’t care,” you whispered to yourself.
Then you hit confirm as you ordered drinks for yourself and Leon.
Phone tossed gently onto the couch beside you, you stretched out with a satisfied little hum, already imagining everything arriving.
Leon came back a few minutes later, dressed now, sleeves pushed up, hair still slightly damp and stopped in the doorway.
Because you looked so pleased with yourself.Curled up. Cozy. Radiating satisfaction, adorable.He leaned against the frame, arms crossing loosely.
“…So what's the damage?”
You turned your head slowly, a grin spreading across your face. "Define damage?.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, already amused.“…How many places.”
You held up your hand, giving him a sheepish smile as you held up your hand. "Four."
Leon stared at you, then let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head.
Not annoyed, just fond.
“Alright,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. “Guess I’m setting the table for a banquet.”
You laughed, reaching for him as he got close, tugging him down just enough to press your face into his stomach. “You love it.”
His hand came up automatically, threading into your hair, holding you there. “…Yeah,” he admitted, softer now.Then, with the faintest smirk in his voice he held you close. “Next time, we’re adding a fifth place.”
