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gnawingonleonsbicep · 17 days ago

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I Don’t Want to Fall in Love

Leon Kennedy x gn!reader. Post RE4/R, written with RE4R Leon in mind, however either version works.

Angst. Hurt/no comfort? No use of y/n or [name]. Reader is referred to as “sweetheart”. Reader is a barista. Leon lives in an apartment idk. More tags in the tags. Sorry this is my first time actually posting a full fic.

WC: 2.7k

❝ Right face, wrong time, she's sweet

(But I don't wanna fall in love)

Too late, so deep, better run cause

(I don't wanna fall in love)

Can't sleep, can't eat, can't think straight

(I don't wanna) ❞

Between making sure he was in peak condition after the events of his Spain mission, particularly regarding the brief period he was infected with the plaga, Leon found himself with a surprising amount of free time between his assignments. During the free period, Leon found himself frequenting a quaint café near his apartment. Perhaps it was the coffee that drew him in. Or the soothing environment. Or the cute barista he happens to run into every time he visits. Too bad doesn’t want to fall in love.

Leon didn’t have much luck with relationships. Had a couple girlfriends before Raccoon City, none after. It wasn't like he had much time to get into the dating scene either; between his nonexistent work-life balance and the baggage he carried, he swiftly accepted the fact that a relationship must’ve simply just been out of the cards for him.

He didn’t lament on that fact; some things were just out of his control. No use in fighting it. He accepted that a long time ago. Hell, he didn’t even think he could manage a relationship anymore. Sure, the company would be nice, but he can’t stay in one place for too long. You’d think he’d enjoy the breaks whenever he got them, and you’d be right. As long as they don’t go on for too long. He’s gotten accustomed to the busy schedule, can’t help but get antsy whenever he goes long without an assignment, always feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still, he can’t deny it gets “a little” lonely in his apartment. It’s dreary and desolate; from an outside perspective, one would easily assume it was vacant. Minus the bare minimum furnishings — a bed, a cheap couch he found, and a little TV he got for the occasions he is home — there wasn’t much in his apartment. None of it really got much use, though. More times than not, he’d end up passed out on the couch when he returned from an assignment.

Perhaps you could say his home was a representation of himself: dull and empty. Missing that spark of life. Missing what made it a home. He never put much thought into it, though. His main concern was being in an okay enough condition to complete whatever task he was given. Maybe he’ll do a good enough job that he’ll retire early and go back to a semi-regular life!

The thought was nice, if not based in naïveté. Something he’d think about while he tried to sleep. Maybe one day he’d be able to retire. Settle down and give someone a better life than he had. Wishful thinking and all.

During his time living in the area, especially with the surprising amount of free time he’s had, his routine grew to include a local café near his apartment complex. Perhaps it was the novelty of the quiet, quaint building, of a secondary location to unwind outside of his bleak apartment.

It also helped that there was a particularly cute barista there.. But you didn’t hear that from him.

That was how he met you. It was pure coincidence; your shifts happened to align with the days he’d show up. Some may call it fate; he more accurately calls it regularly visiting an establishment. Whatever attraction he might’ve felt had no play in it. Even if he happened to memorize your shifts. And that you were his favorite.

….

God, he sounded like a creep.

It wasn’t like that, though. He was just vigilant. He’d gotten used to being aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Besides, he didn’t memorize only your schedule. He knew that Aaron and Eliza worked Mondays and Thursdays, Carol opened on Sundays, and that Mac worked on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Just to name a few.

He’d like to say he planned this. That he knew his feelings of attraction would grow into something more. But he couldn’t lie to himself. Or you. While it started as a simple infatuation, an attraction to how he perceived you, he knew it wasn’t love.

Until you began starting up conversations with him whenever you had the opportunity. It was small talk at first, asking him about his day, exchanging small pleasantries, occasionally making a comment on his attire; surface-level interactions while you took his order. Stuff you did with every customer. You were just being polite; he knew that. He wasn’t going to look into it and convince himself otherwise.

Then the conversations slowly grew longer. But that meant nothing. And it meant nothing when you started spending your breaks with him or when you made his order in advance because you knew when he’d arrive. And the cute notes you left didn’t mean anything. No, they definitely meant nothing. And you certainly meant nothing when you asked to have lunch with him on your day off. Nope. Meant nothing. Not like it was a date, right?

At least that’s what he told himself. Until you offhandedly mentioned that it was the best date you had in a while. But that meant nothing, right? Right?

He knew he was a goner the moment the date lunch had ended.

One date turned into another, and then another, and then another.. You even came over to his shitty charming little apartment (your words, not his.) for a horror-filled movie night (the horror movies were your idea). Leon wasn’t much of a fan of horror after experiencing a horror movie in his own life, though it was a little hard to be on edge after Raccoon City and Spain. Hard beat an actual “zombie apocalypse” and being infected with a parasite that nearly turned him into yet another mindless puppet of Saddler’s.)

If Leon already knew he was a goner by the end of your first date, it was really solidified when you were practically curled up and hiding in his chest for an hour and a half. On one hand, it was a little awkward considering Leon was rather.. touch deprived. It was far more physical interaction than he had been used to for a while. At least, in a sweeter, more intimate manner. On the other, the feeling of you clinging to him like a lifeline whenever the movie got a little too scary for you made him feel a sense of bliss. Like it was a taste of what could’ve been, what he could have. With you. He almost wondered how it would’ve gone if Raccoon had never happened. Then again, he probably would’ve never met you if things had gone differently.

While he silently relished in the feeling, it left him with a pit in his stomach after you left. He had trouble falling asleep that night. It wouldn’t have been too unusual.. If he hadn’t been thinking about you.

His thoughts raced, going over how poorly it could all end if you ever made it official. And how poorly it could end if you didn’t make it official. He was between a rock and a hard place; if he “set things straight” and bluntly said he “wasn’t” interested in a relationship, he wouldn’t be dragging you into whatever the hell he had going on.

However, he’d constantly beat himself up with the “what if”s if he missed this opportunity. An opportunity for something more in his personal life, something that could be what ignites that spark. A rock and a hard place.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, going throughout his day in a daze. He was in an inner conflict. He was sure he could see himself spending his life with you, at least a portion of it. For as long as you’d have him. But was he right for you? Was he really a good match for you? Could he provide you what you needed?

Sure, he was physically attractive, he couldn’t deny that. But could you really love what’s underneath that? Would you still love him if you knew the damaged man he was beneath his awkward charm and handsome features? Would you still love him if you delved deep, if you truly got to know him so intimately? If you broke down his walls and bared his soul to you?

And you were such a sweet, sensitive thing. Would you really be able to handle the time spent apart when he’s off doing who knows what for the government? Would you be able to handle him coming home bloodied and bruised after a particularly rough assignment? He was sure you’d tend to his wounds, cleaning and dressing them with such a tender hand, as if he was nothing more than a delicate flower. But could you really handle it? Could he handle the guilt that’d eat at him? Could he handle dragging someone so soft into his muddled world? Defiling your simple, picturesque life with his life of disarray?

Was it selfish of him to yearn for that? To yearn for someone to care for his worn-down body, to take him into their arms and rebuild him, over and over again, as long as it takes? For a sense of normality?

Leon was ashamed to admit that he started avoiding you. It made him feel weak, juvenile. The Leon S. Kennedy: survivor of the Raccoon City incident, the man that rescued the president’s daughter with rather minimal help, avoiding a civilian working as a barista at the local café, because of what, a schoolboy crush? Because he couldn’t handle his own feelings? God, he must’ve sounded pathetic.

You must’ve noticed something was off after he hadn’t shown up for the umpteenth time in a row. Maybe he was sick? What if he got hurt? You couldn’t help but worry; you did like him after all. You liked him a lot. It felt safe to say that you might even love him. Sure, you didn’t know every little detail of his life, but you didn’t need to immediately. That was something you could learn eventually, on his own time.

That was what led you to show up at his apartment with a cute little care package. Always such a sweetheart. After being drawn out of his thoughts. It was odd; he wasn’t expecting any company. It wasn’t like he really got any. Maybe it was Claire stopping by to drop something off? She was sweet like that. Sure, they weren’t able to keep in contact as much as he’d like, but they tried to make some time whenever they got the chance. Still, usually she’d give him a heads-up before she stopped by.

It barely crossed his mind that you’d be at his front door. He could nearly feel his heart ache at the sight of you, the way you nervously shifted from side to side, biting the inside of your cheek.

Oh, and the care package, filled with small, homemade goodies and topped off with a cream-colored stuffed bear, a little blue ribbon around its neck. It was so painfully you. After he got over his momentary shock, he quickly ushered you in with a quick “Come in, come in,” and a “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Glancing around his apartment, he mentally beat himself up for the mess. Well, as messy as his empty apartment could get.

“Sorry, I wasn’t.. expecting anyone,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he glanced off to the side. It was silent for a moment, the both of you standing there; you staring at him, him avoiding your gaze. Maybe that was a way to describe your dynamic. You, looking at him with such adoration, with such love. Piercing through him in a way that was equally comforting and terrifying while he hid away from it, avoiding it as though it were the plague. It made him feel vulnerable, like you could see through him, see through the tears in his carefully crafted veil. He couldn’t tell if he loved it or hated it.

“Do you—”

“I was just—”

Silence.

It was clear you had something you wanted to say, though you refrained. Whether it was so you could simply formulate your thoughts or to avoid cutting him off again was up for debate. Perhaps it was both; perhaps it was neither.

After a few short moments, though they seemed to drag on for far longer than they actually did, you finally broke that silence between the both of you.

“I was just..” you paused for a moment, glancing down at the stuffed bear. “..I was worried when you didn’t show up. Thought you might’ve been sick or something,” glancing back up at him, a small smile graced your features, a hint of embarrassment tainting the expression, “But now that I’m here, I feel kind of silly.. Since, y’know, you seem fine and all.”

You were worried about him?

A pang of guilt grew within him. If he had made you worry enough to come pay him a visit when he was just behaving childishly, how would you react when he was out on a mission? Or when he returns bruised and beaten, wounds that are surely bound to become another scar littering his body?

It only further solidified his opinion. He couldn’t drag you into his life; he couldn’t put you through that. He needed to end things with you, to put a stop to whatever was growing between the both of you. Sure, he’d regret it. Why wouldn’t he regret it? But he couldn’t be selfish. You deserved better. You deserve someone that could be there for you, someone who you wouldn’t have to share with the government for as long as your relationship lasts. He couldn’t hold you back. Besides, it’s not like it’d be the first thing he regrets.

“Yeah..” he muttered, furrowing his brow as a sigh left him. “Listen.. I like you, I really do, but..” he paused, internally wincing at the way your face dropped, guilt piercing through him. “..I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m sorry.”

“..what.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at you. He was sure he’d crumble the moment you did. He felt like such an asshole, but this was for the better, right?

Right?

“My job– it’s.. Very demanding, and,” oh, it was more than just demanding. But he couldn’t tell you what he did. It’d only make you worry more. “..the hours are long, and I wouldn’t.. be there.. that much,” he knew he was being vague, but how could he casually explain what he did for work? That he’d be gone for days, weeks, hell, maybe even years? All because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time?

He didn’t need to drag you into his shit. He didn’t need to put your safety at risk due to his own selfish desires.

“But– but we could work through that. It won’t be a problem, I promise.” Oh, you were just too sweet. Too kind for your own good. He was over here breaking your poor little heart, and you were still willing to compromise with him.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was so soft, so gentle. Even when he was being the cruelest he’s ever been to you, he still spoke to you with such care.

“Please, Leon. Please. We could make it work. I know we could, if you gave us a chance,” Oh, there you go, breaking his heart. And he thought he was the cruel one. He was, and yet, he couldn’t ignore the way his eyes stung or the way his throat closed up.

“Sweetheart,” he paused, taking in a sharp breath; even as his voice wavered ever so slightly, he remained composed. He made his bed, and he was going to lie in it. It was his choice; he was the one breaking your heart, so what right did he have to cry in this very moment?”

“Please, Leon..”

“I think it would be best if you left.”

He knew he was going to regret that choice. He already had many regrets in life; what more was another?

After leaning against the now-closed door for a moment after your departure, he reluctantly pulled himself from it, only to bump into something on the floor.

That was odd. While he had some clutter about, he didn’t have anything out of line in the entrance..

Oh.

It was the stuffed bear. The one you brought him. It must’ve fallen while you were leaving.

Bending down to grab it, he held it in his hands for a moment, simply observing it. A memento for the occasion, perhaps. A physical reminder of the “what if”s he’d no doubt ruminate on.

God, he was going to regret this.

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anna-scribbles · 1 year ago

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thirteen update 💕💍🍽️🩸

chapter 5: february

summary:

“These things do not concern you,” Papa told him flatly. “I will run my household however I see fit. Your concerns are with your schoolwork and your modeling.” Blood pumped heavy and fast through Adrien’s heart. That wasn’t—fair. Concern was about all he was capable of these days. “And what about Maman?” Adrien asked, exhausted, reckless. “May I be concerned about Maman?” Something shifted on Papa’s face, all his emotions smothered in stone.

excerpt:

The best day of Adrien’s life was eight months and six days ago. No contest.

It was a crisp kind of cold that day, the Paris sky blooming a bright and brilliant blue overhead. The sun pierced right through the brisk February air, a shock of spearmint and adrenaline in his veins. He couldn’t stop widening his eyes, couldn’t stop smiling. The city was so alive. Strains of love songs poured out of open cafe doors and onto tourists, their hands full of red roses and lovers’ hands. The cobblestones sang with the patters of paired footsteps all down the street. It was the city of love always, but today especially. Today Adrien was made of the stuff, just bursting with it.

And, like every other day in the running for the best of his life, Marinette was there.

“You’d better not pull anything,” she warned, tightening her grip on his hand as they passed by a tourist couple looking very… engrossed with each other in the middle of the street. “And—and if you do, you have to tell me. Right now.”

Marinette’s brow was lightly furrowed, the bridge of her nose just barely scrunched up. Her hair was pulled half-back with a pink ribbon, matching the shade of the skirt she wore beneath her velvety black peacoat. Her Mary Janes clipped anxiously down the road and Adrien’s heart danced and swelled and spun in his chest.

“Pull something? Me?” Adrien stepped aside so their arms were outstretched, and then pulled at Marinette’s fingers, sending her tumbling back into his arms. She looked up at him, trying to frown, smiling. He grinned. “I would never.”

“I’m serious.” Marinette untangled herself from his arms and interlocked her fingers again with his. Her hand was the warmest thing in the world. She looked at him sternly, wagging a finger in his face. “I need to know so I can—prepare. Especially if it’s something crazy. No funny business.”

“Marinette,” he moaned, draping a wounded hand over his heart. One corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, eyes darting to meet her gaze. “You think I’m funny?”

She groaned. “I think you‘re—I think you’re ridiculous, and sappy, and romantic, and I think it’s Valentine’s Day in Paris”—this part she shouted, which drew a few stares—“and I think you’re about to take me on an insanely adorable date, and I think Alya took me to get my nails done last week—!”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Adrien remarked, swinging their hands back and forth. “And observant. What a beautiful mind you have, my lady.”

“You have to tell me,” Marinette insisted. She stopped them on the street and frowned at him, pink flushing the apples of her cheeks. “Is it—are you—?”

“Hm?” Adrien murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Marinette’s cheeks went ablaze.

“I—you—you know what I mean!” she spluttered. “Are you gonna…you know!”

He tilted his head to the side. “Am I…?”

read on ao3

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #my art #thirteen #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #she's there. just look #don't be worried about the blood emoji it's actually a very funny story #and doesn't involve death at all I promise #shout out to the procreate perspective tools for this one. owe them my life #happy february it's march. are any of us surprised #maybe march will be in march this year but I cannot make any promises #the first 2k of this is just the cutest adrinette fluff i've ever written and I love that for me #(me making my own content) I stay winning #anyway. adrien is having a hard time etc. read more

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heechwe · 5 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖⤷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ

𝑰 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑽𝑬 this blog has officially hit 2k followers! After coming from a years-long hiatus and seeing the XO music video, I didn't know how to come back and write even if I knew writing was such a big part of my life I wanted to reinvigorate. And now, because of so many of you, I have found my passion and creativity again, and this is just a post to thank those who have been here for me in this new phase of my blog! 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑼𝑻 is where I'm going to be super mushy so beware. I can't help it y'all, I'm a Gemini!

𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑳𝒀, I would not be able to continue on if I didn’t have all of you, truly. I feel incredibly supported and appreciated by all the new friends I have made over the past few months being back and also being apart of the networks I am in now. I’ve realized that culminating a community is a key element to the creative process for me, and if it takes a village to raise a baby, it takes a whole community for a story to come to life. I don’t know where I’d be without having so many resources and helping hands whenever I need them, and I appreciate it so much. I could not write what I have recently without all of you guys in my corner, so here’s to say I love you all very much and I am eternally grateful. 🤍🤍🤍 Just know if I didn’t tag you you are still tagged in my heart forever and I LOVE YOU!! @seokgyuu @loserlvrss @yvnempire @temptaetions @haologram @gluion @heesuncore @jayparked @mini-mews @babeyun @won4kiss @luvlucia @00kittenz @hollyoongs @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @okiedokrie-main @jenoslutie @mygnolia @kwanisms @enreveriee @shadowkoo @varietae @sweetvenomnet @svthub @k-vanity

𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑳𝒀, This is just to say that this community of writers is so inspiring. I see so many incredible writers every day and I am in awe of their talent, hard work, and creativity. I aspire to be as talented and dedicated as the people I aspire to. This is all to say I just wanted to highlight a few names here because literally everything these writers make is gold, honestly, and I am a huge fan. 🤍🤍🤍 @yeonzzzn @simpjaes @taeghi @yzzyhee @flwrstqr @paarksunghoon @ja3yun @jjunieworld @p4ranormaluv

𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀, full-heartedly, I want to say thank you to every person who follows me now and has been following me for a long time. I am surprised every day when I see a like, reblog, or comment praising my work. Too often, I deal with bouts of Imposter Syndrome and wonder if I am cut out to write stories that live up to the ideas in my head. And with even one person who appreciates my work, it uplifts me a million times over. Even when I feel my work is not up to par, you guys are there to remind me my work is not worthless and I’m not shouting into a void. So, I am so grateful to be here with all of you and happy to share what I love to do with you guys, and as long as you want to read, I will be here to write. And I appreciate all of you letting me hold onto my first love. 🤍🤍🤍

#[ 2k celebration ]#[ lexi talks ]#i am so happy to have reached this milestone and for yall taking a chance on me and my writing #i love every one of you truly #<3333

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batfamhastwitter · 6 months ago

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Just a heads up, I'm starting school again tomorrow, so updates will likely start to get released a bit slower. I'll still get them out as often as I can, but it probably wont be anything consistent, sorry!

#not twitter au #thank you guys 2k followers btw!#your support means the world to me #I love all the comments and stuff y'all leave #it makes me so happy that others are enjoying this au just as much as I enjoy writing it :)#next update will be within the next day(ish) and will conclude the timkon arc I have going right now!

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aimbutmiss · 1 year ago

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The day started like any other normal day. And it was, to Mihawk at least.

Yes, it was his birthday, but he never really cared for the occasion. Was he grateful for the life he was given? Of course he was. But he never saw the point in celebrating. He remembered the day when Shanks had showed up out of nowhere, ten years or so ago. He was overjoyed to see the man, hands itching to reach for Yoru, but the man stopped him with a whine.

"Nooooo, I come in peace! We can't fight, not today of all days!"

He held up the bottle in his hand with a bright smile. "We're gonna party until the sun goes down and comes back up!"

A frown pulled down on Mihawk's face, who was not quite understanding the situation. "What are you talking about?"

Shanks' smile quickly dropped too. "Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."

Ah, right. So that's what this was about. The man had told him his date of birth some time ago, and in his surprise and perhaps slight tipsiness, he had admitted that they shared the same birthday. In hindsight, he should have known the red head would pull something like this. It was definitely in character. He sighed in frustration.

"I'm not quite the type to celebrate. You know I don't like to party like you folk."

"That's nonsense!" Shanks walked up to him and slapped a hand on his back, strong enough to send a normal man flying. But of course, Mihawk didn't move an inch. "Parties are like, the best part of being a pirate! And even if I respect your mysterious and lonely guy schtick, it's your damn birthday! You can make an exception for one day of the year."

He looked up, reminiscing about the past. "The captain was very firm about that. He would throw me and Buggy the most extravagant parties. He never once forgot; can you believe that?"

The captain he was talking about was indeed the King of the Pirates, Gold Roger. It had shocked Mihawk at first, learning about Shanks’ past. But the more he got to know the man, the more it made sense. A man of his caliber couldn’t have come from anything else. Shanks was a very talkative drunkard, so Mihawk was used to listening to stories about that time of his life. And frankly, he quite enjoyed it. These men in his stories and the stuff they went through were like straight out of legends... He gave a small smile to the excited man in front of him. "I guess I could indulge you just this once, but only because it's your birthday too."

He snapped out of the memories and slowly got out of bed, having had enough nostalgia to last him the day. But he was stopped by a floating hand pulling on his night gown.

"Stay."

Mihawk looked to the source of the muffled protest, which happened to be the blue mess in his bed. "Let go, Buggy."

"Nooooooo..."

He sighed as he sat back down on the bed, fingers immediately going for the soft blue locks. An approving hum came from the clown as he brushed through his hair with his long fingers.

This sleepy man, with whom he shared a bed, was one of those from Shanks’ stories. Except he was nothing like them. He wasn’t brave and fearless like in the stories, he was weak. But he knew exactly what he was and what he was capable of, and Mihawk loved him for that. He was charming beyond words, and a little stupid, but Mihawk was into that, as embarrassing as it was.

“Get back into bed and get your birthday cuddles.”

Mihawk chuckled at his partner. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

He got up to leave for the bathroom. “Do you know where Crocodile went?”

“Nope! How should I know?” Buggy answered way too quickly, which made the swordsman’s brows furrow.

“Hm. He’s probably in his office like usual.”

“Yes! That’s it.” Buggy exclaimed in triumph, for what he didn’t know. “He’s such a workaholic.”

“Indeed.” He replied nonchalantly as he reached for his razor.

“Wait!” Buggy ran out of bed to his side with a smile. “Let me do that for you.”

Mihawk stared at him with a raised brow. “You want to help me shave? For what reason exactly?”

“It’ll be relaxing! I’m good with my hands, you know.” Buggy wiggled his brows suggestively, which made his lips curve just the slightest bit. The clown could be funny sometimes, mostly when he wasn’t trying. Oh, how he loved this silly man.

“You literally have no reason to do this.”

Buggy sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to pamper you, birthday boy. Take it or leave it.”

Mihawk thought about it for a second, and reluctantly gave the razor to the clown. “You better not mess this up. I have a very particular- “

“I’m aware, dear. Just trust me.”

He gently held his face and got to work, carving out the intricate design with capable movements. After he was done, he wiped his face with a fresh towel and gave him a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“Was that a part of the service?” Mihawk jokingly asked.

“Only for you, handsome.”

Mihawk was never one for being coddled, always believing that being spoiled was being looked down upon. He didn’t need special attention and privilege to make it in life. But this, this he could get used to.

He pulled Buggy into a kiss that started innocent, but quickly grew more desperate. He was sneaking his hands under Buggy’s polka dot pyjama shirt when the man pushed him away.

“Nuh uh.”

“Nuh uh?” Mihawk stared at his boyfriend in bewilderment.

“Not now. I’ll give your birthday gift at night.”

Mihawk frowned. “It’s my birthday now too. What difference does it make?”

“God, you’re impatient. Night. No negotiating.”

Mihawk pursed his lips and didn’t protest. He was not happy, though.

Buggy stayed with him throughout the day, keeping him company and making sure he stayed away from the beach.

Yes, Mihawk could tell. But to be fair, Buggy wasn’t exactly being subtle. But he didn’t say a word, indulging in whatever the man was planning.

A surprise party, perhaps? God, he really hoped it wasn’t that. Crowds and being the center of attention didn’t agree with his constitution.

And where was his other partner (both in romantic and business contexts), Crocodile? He wasn’t in his office like he initially assumed. He was sure Buggy knew where the man was but refrained from asking questions. He was quite sure the two situations were somehow connected.

That in itself was quite ridiculous to think about. Crocodile didn’t seem like the type of man to care about birthdays either, like himself. Maybe Buggy had somehow convinced him? It all seemed very unnecessary. He knew the clown had good intentions, but he would have been fine if no one acknowledged his birthday at all. It wasn’t of importance to him, simple as that.

Then why was this bothering him so much? He tried to focus on Buggy’s rambling but that feeling did not leave.

Why did it feel so wrong to be celebrated just for existing? To be loved and cared for?

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t unhappy with it. Quite the opposite actually. But it just felt so… foreign. He needed time to adjust, to make his peace with it.

He thought he had gotten over this particular problem after he formed a relationship with his two business partners. It had taken a lot out of him to simply let them in, to feel comfortable in their presence, to not fret from every touch… And even though he trusted them completely, here he was doubting his place.

It just didn’t make sense. They were wasting their time and effort for an inconsequential event that would pass by, leaving nothing changed. So, what if he got a year older? What did that change? Why did they care so much about something he himself didn’t care for? To show their love? But Mihawk already knew they loved him.

“Earth to Mihawk, hello?”

Mihawk snapped out of his thoughts, staring at Buggy’s concerned eyes. “Hm? Sorry, I got lost in thoughts. You were saying?”

“I was saying I want to walk along the beach… You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m alright, just a bit sluggish today. And sure, we can go for a stroll.”

He walked hand in hand with Buggy, trying to ease his mind and keep small talk going. He wasn’t big on physical touch, but he really appreciated the warmth of Buggy’s hand then. The clown always had a way of comforting him without trying. Mihawk stopped walking when he saw the dinner table placed on the beach. That certainly wasn’t there before. It was adorned with red roses and lit candles, setting a romantic atmosphere. Crocodile was standing beside the table, looking at his pocket watch.

“You’re late.”

“I know! I got lost in my speaking, and hawk eyes didn’t try to stop me so I lost track of time…”

“You and your big mouth… I guess it’s alright, we didn’t miss the sunset.”

Crocodile walked up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and sharing a chaste kiss.

“Happy birthday, hawk eyes.”

“Thank you.” Mihawk broke the eye contact as he felt his cheeks get hotter.

Crocodile gave a sly smirk. “Someone’s being bashful.”

“Well, I didn’t expect… this. I was convinced you were throwing me a party.”

Buggy frowned at the thought. “Of course not! That would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? That’s the last thing I would want on your birthday. A private dinner on the other hand…”

“Is much more your style, is it not?” Crocodile completed Buggy’s sentence.

Mihawk was the luckiest man alive. He gave his lovers a small smile. “Yes, indeed it is. You are too thoughtful.”

“It’s literally the bare minimum but okay.”

“I can’t believe this, but I agree with the clown. What kind of partners would we be if we didn’t know your preferences?”

Mihawk sat on the chair the taller man pulled out for him as Buggy poured him a glass of wine, one of his favorites that happened to be quite expensive.

“I just don’t quite get what’s so important about this day, or what you would go through all this trouble for.”

Crocodile and Buggy shared a glance and turned to him with sad eyes.

“Because it’s the day you came into this world, and therefore to our lives? Because we love you?”

“Indeed. I don’t see what’s so confusing about us wanting to cherish the man we love, to show him how much he means to us. Is that a problem?”

Mihawk stared at the two in astonishment and eventually, a big smile stretched across his lips. “No, not at all.”

The swordsman had a lot to learn about love, about being loved, but he had two perfect partners to help him through the steps. He could get used to celebrating his birthday if it meant he got to share it with the people he loved. Maybe that’s what he had been missing all these years to give this day a meaning. Company.

And after dinner, Buggy didn’t forget about his promise from the morning. Easy to say Mihawk went to sleep a very tired but satisfied man.

#not too happy with this but I'm too sleepy to care #I was gonna make this more angsty but I used all that energy on my shuggy post so mihawk gets to be happy today :)#it's kinda funny to think this could be happening consecutively with the shuggy post #mihawk learning to accept love on his birthday while shanks gets used to the lack of it #me? picking favourites? haha no way #anyways happy birthday mihawk!!#one piece #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #cross guild #cross guild polycule #bughawk #red haired shanks #this is almost 2k words btw!!#maybe I'll try to improve it a bit tomorrow and post it as a fic on ao3 who knows

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