#happy valentine's day i guess?

[dodger-chan]

Based off of this idea, originating with @rogueddie (also on ao3)

Steve was looking at Eddie. He had to. There wasn’t anything else worth looking at in the theater.

That sounded weird.

Steve was looking at Eddie. Because unlike Steve, Eddie was not bored out of his skull by the music, the overacting, the complete absence of story.

That last complaint was unfair. There was a story. Eddie’d summed it up for him on the drive over. Steve just couldn’t follow the story with all the singing being in Italian. Or German. Maybe.

He’d gotten used to hearing a bunch of different languages living with Robin, and being able to tell them apart, but everything sounded different when sung. And everything was sung.

Eddie, who only spoke English and nerd, didn’t seem to have any trouble following the opera. Or if he wasn’t following it, he didn’t care. He was clearly having the time of his life, his joy reflected in the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes.

So yeah, Steve was looking at Eddie.

Steve looked away quickly when the music stopped and the lights went up. It would be weird if Eddie caught him staring.

“Is it over?” he asked hopefully. It sure felt like they’d been sitting there for several hours.

“It’s intermission.” Right. Halftime. Or, no, the program said there were two intermissions. So one third of the way. “You’re not enjoying it?”

“It’s not my thing, but it isn’t so bad.” Steve lied. He could get through this. He’d survived worse.

It was a good thing no one had told the Russians about Wagner.

“Want to walk around for a bit? Stretch our legs?”

----

Walking around made Steve feel like he was doing something. Something other than staring at Eddie. Though with Eddie bouncing on his toes and excited hand gestures as he gushed about what they’d just seen Steve couldn’t keep from staring a little.

“Is this your first opera?” An older woman in evening wear asked Eddie. She was smiling kindly, but Steve knew how fake those kind smiles could be. He took note of the wrinkles around her eyes, the graying roots of her hair, any flaws she might be sensitive to, in case she was about to bring up the worn knee in Eddie’s best jeans.

Not everyone could afford a tux like her escort.

“Second, actually. Steve and I saw Don Giovanni here about four, five months ago.” That had been boring, too. But Eddie had loved it, even though he’d been a little embarrassed at enjoying a snobby, rich person kind of thing. So Steve had bought tickets to another opera as soon as he’d saved up enough for two. “I’ve heard Tristan und Isolde before, but it’s different live.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

And then the two of them started talking way, way above Steve’s head, with musical terms he’d have sworn were made up. Like, harmonic was a music thing, sure, but suspension had to do with cars.

It was so much like when Dustin and Eddie talked about Dungeons and Dragons that Steve had to smile.

“And they’re off.” The woman’s escort was smiling, too. He jerked his head in the direction of the bar. “C’mon. Let’s you and I get drinks while my wife and your boyfriend talk shop.”

Steve took three full steps before the words sank in.

“Shit,” he breathed. That was why he’d spent months setting aside money for opera tickets. And why he’d needed two. And why he’d spent all of act one entertaining himself with Eddie’s facial expressions. He was in love with Eddie.

Steve turned around.

“I’m very sorry,” he interrupted the woman. He was a little sorry; Eddie seemed to be enjoying her conversation. “I need to borrow this guy for ten seconds.”

“What the hell?” Eddie asked as Steve pulled him away from any potential eavesdroppers.

“Do you want this to be a date?”

“Um, what?”

“Tonight. This. A date.” Maybe Steve wasn’t making a lot of sense. He tried again. “That woman you were talking to, her husband called you my boyfriend-”

“Oh, shit, Steve, I’m sorry- '' Eddie started.

“Don’t be. Unless, you don’t want to be. My boyfriend, that is.” Steve looked directly into Eddie’s eyes. “Because I’d really like it if you’d be my boyfriend.”

“I’d like that, too.”

They couldn’t kiss in such a public place. But once they were back in their seats and the lights went down, no one would be able to see if they were holding hands.

Steve was suddenly looking forward to act two.

[ladsofsorrow24]

Nothing kills a man faster than his own head

[bixbythemartian]

You were confused about it, at first, because you're particularly sharp-eyed. You're the party ranger, you're often the lookout, you have to be. You watch her in towns, eyeing the fancy lordlings that pass you on the street. The hunger in her eyes.

(Is it anger?)

But she was really cool about that one fuckup with the bear that first time out, even though she got a bit... mauled.

(You still feel bad about that.)

And she does stay out of trouble when you're in town, even when someone is practically dangling their coinpurse in front of you, even when you're tempted.

And she's, like, really pretty.

So you try to help.

At first, you leave it in a pocket, but just a little bit out. Like you stuffed it there in a hurry. You do that for days.

(You watch her for days, and she smiles at you when she catches you at it. Like you have a private joke, together.)

She sidles up to you, at one point, and leans around you, tucking the handkerchief into your pocket, right before you're arriving at a big town. Her warm hand on your hip, her other slipping the hanky deeper into your pocket.

"You have to be careful with your things, in a place like this," she said, giving you a wink. "Anybody might grab them."

"Right," you said. "Of course. How silly." You're a bit embarrassed, really.

(Your hip tingles where her hand was. Silly, silly, silly.)

But you've worked it out, now. You figured it out, you get it. She picked you out because she wants the challenge. She picked you because you are sharp-eyed. That makes sense- it's not fun if it's easy, right?

And she's good.

She's good enough that even you have trouble seeing the dip, even when you know it's coming- taking an important bit of paperwork off a repugnant and pompous dignitary, you were watching for it, you knew when it was supposed to happen, and you still missed it.

You resolve to keep a closer eye on the handkerchief.

(And her. Because she wants you to. It's not weird. Right?)

You tuck it into an inner pocket on your vest, close to your skin, where she'll have a harder time getting her hand without you noticing.

Still, two days later, you are sitting at a campfire that you had set up on your journey to the mountains, firelight limning her skin in gold as she sews on something, and she gives you a sly smile- and you realize she's embroidering the handkerchief.

"How?" you ask.

She just winks at you.

(She's good.)

She finishes what she's doing and comes over to sit next to you, her shoulder pressing into yours. She puts the handkerchief in your lap, draping it to display it.

A soft pink rose is embroidered in the corner. It's actually very fine work. The handkerchief is fine, too- soft, tightly woven cotton, smooth to the touch. Not lacy, or silk- it's meant to be used, not for show.

And now, a soft pink rose. "This is like those wild roses we saw earlier."

"Yeah," she said.

"It's pretty."

"You like it?" she asked, looking maybe like she could possibly be a little bit worried.

You nod, smiling at her. "I like it."

She grins at you.

It goes on like that. The embellishment around the edges grow. Wood violets and pink clover.

Firewheels, brilliant red and orange- you found a field of them and the whole party stopped and you braided flowers into each other's hair.

(There was violence, yes- but there were also flowers.)

You'd braided her hair into a crown, tucking flowers into them, and she'd stolen the handkerchief while you did it, the minx, and started embellishing it right away.

It just made you smile, soft and fond. You still weren't sure how she was doing it.

(Maybe that wasn't the point at all. Maybe it wasn't about the challenge at all. You're not sure what the point is, but it's fun, so that's okay.)

Daisies, dandelions, henbit- little, tiny, purple, bunny-shaped flowers. How she even noticed you'd noticed them, you'd liked them, is a question you don't think about until much, much later.

Aster and goldenrod and milkweed and pink thistle. On and on and on, in tiny, but perfect, detail.

A chain of flowers around the edge of the handkerchief, finely and beautifully embroidered by steady, clever hands.

You become very, very, extremely aware of her, every time she is close, every time she puts her hands on you.

(Extremely extremely extremely aware. She smells like leather, most often, because of her armor. But likes sandalwood soap when you get the chance to stop and clean up. Is that weird? That's weird, right?)

She is close a lot more often, and she touches you so often, so casually, that it's hard to notice and impossible to ignore.

Brushing your hair out of your face. Once, pinning it back when your hair pins came loose- clever, gentle, soft, warm hands. Straightening your shirt and gripping your shoulders- reassuring you- when you have to talk to the Queen.

You're a bumpkin from nowhere who prefers the forest to the city, talking to the Queen was never a thing you thought you would have to do, but she makes sure you look right.

A quick squeeze of your hand before she slips off- so you know she's stepping into the shadows, that she didn't just vanish.

(You squeeze back, so she knows you know, and to feel her warm hand before it slips out of yours.)

You're sharp eyed, observant- and you have only become more so. But you have a blind spot, shaped like a beautiful rogue, who smiles and laughs and always, always, always stops to look at even the tiniest, raggediest, meanest of roadside flowers with you. She sees the beauty in them.

You think you maybe are starting to get it. It was never about an urge she couldn't quell.

You think maybe, possibly, it could be something about you.

But you shy away from the thought. You were never good at such things. There's a reason you stuck to the forest- figuring out people was hard and you were bad it at.

It probably doesn't mean anything.

(Maybe.)

But she makes you smile, and you're grateful for that. Damned few things to smile about, some days, but she always gets one out of you. And she smiles back, too. That's important, too, maybe more important.

Time goes on. The stakes get bigger. As they do, in such things.

(The stakes get bigger, or you leave, or you die.)

And you all have your reasons for being there, doing what you're doing.

And there's some fights you can't say no to. Not even if you think you're going to lose, not even if you're sure. There's some fights you have to fight because to do otherwise means you're not you.

Someone has to stop him.

(Someone has to try.)

She's good.

She's good at staying out of sight, appearing only long enough to get a shot off, and then disappearing again. You've never worried about her, much.

But there's nowhere to hide, and she falls, and you can't stop, not even for her, because you have to fight. Fight and win, or fight and die, but stopping is just not an option.

(Not even for her, but you do howl. In agony, and fury.)

Somehow, you win.

Broken and battered and bleeding, all, you win. The others are all up, somehow you only had one fall.

You run, limping, and fall at her side, ignoring your own wounds, though they are many.

Pulling your last health potion out and praying to every god you can think of that it's not too late, that she's not gone.

(Please. Please. Please, please, please.)

She opens her eyes, and smiles, and holds up the handkerchief in her bloodied hand.

You understand, now.

You finally, really understand what she's been saying, all this time, speaking with no words at all.

You kiss her. Smiling, crying, grinning, you kiss her. And she knows you understand, now, and you rest your foreheads together, and just take a moment. Just a moment.

A moment to breathe.

It's a long road home, after that. Your limp doesn't quite ever go away, and you both have nightmares. She sometimes has panic attacks that you never know quite how to deal with, except to be there with her. There's arguments and just plain bad days.

But at your wedding, there are so many flowers. And many, many more, in all the years that follow.

(Hey if you like this, I've got a variety of stuff linked in my masterpost- and I am disabled and out of work, so if you are feeling like you've got some extra change in your pocket, maybe you can throw a little bit my way at my ko-fi? Also, sharing this around helps me a lot, so even a reblog goes a long way! Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you're having a lovely day.)

(I am disabled and unemployed, tips really help me out! This is accurate as of March of 2024.)

You’ve just joined an adventuring party. The rogue wordlessly gives you a handkerchief and slinks away. “Ah, it’s his way of handling his kleptomania. Instead of stealing things at random, he’ll be going specifically for that.”

[howlingtothevoid]

Begging God to fix you!

(And other tales about religious trauma)

[nostalgicish]

two lovers entwined pass me by !

[creatureesque]

(Oh-oh, here she comes) / Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up!

[bonesibegyou]

Spock will lovingly carry Jim bridal style in the gentlest manner possible and he will just as lovingly swing Leonard over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and I think that's beautiful 🥰

[acekindaneat]

I don't want this to end.

A cute little date scene that I really liked from the fic The Big Woo by @tinkertoysdamn !!!!!

[a2zillustration]

Having a little heart-2-heart with Minsc and Boo

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[buggee22]

my weed smoking girlfriends <3

who sometimes make out

and lines bcuz i should get this tattooed

[beaulesbian]

One Piece || ep. 1093 💙

[talesfromthecrypts]

When a guy does that and hurts someone who never hurt them, that makes him a criminal first and a sick guy second. It's like being sick has to take second place to being crooked. And Bob, you're crooked.

Freeway (1996) dir. Matthew Bright

[somanywords]

a smoothie 💗

[samgelina-jolie]

It all started a week ago. Steve had come along to The Hideout, decked in his darkest polo shirt. It was the first gig he'd come to since him and Eddie had officially- as Robin put it- 'got their shit together'.

Steve had met the band plenty of times already, and while they'd been pretty standoffish at first, he liked to think he got along with them pretty well. Jeff actually shared a similar taste in music (even admitting to liking ABBA because it reminded him of his mother) and he'd known enough about Star Wars and a mix of Dustin's interests to win over Seth. It was harder to read Gareth, but Steve had assumed they were at least acquaintances.

That was until Steve had walked up to the bar where Gareth was talking to some girl, and then Gareth had said the meanest thing imaginable.

"He's my buddy's boyfriend."

Eddie hadn't seen what the big deal was. But Steve understood the importance of befriending your partner's best friend.

Well, back in high school, Steve had never really bothered with his girlfriend's friends. He'd focused on putting in effort with the girls he found attractive, wooing them with flowers and gifts. The girls who he wanted to like him did, he didn't really care how much the other girls didn't. The only job the best friend really had in his mind was picking up the pieces after he left those girls in the dust.

That was all before Nancy, of course. She'd been so adamant about him making an impression on Barb, so he'd tried. He invited her to parties, kept Carol and Tommy off her back, even tried to back her up once or twice when Barb and Nancy were bickering.

And it worked out... kind of. Barb had still rolled her eyes whenever Steve opened his mouth, but she was also the one who pulled him aside and saved him a whole lot of embarrassment and heartache.

"I'm telling you this because I would want to know, and because I guess you're not the worst person in the world. Nancy has been hanging out with Jonathan a lot lately... I just think maybe you should pay a bit more attention to it."

But besides him and Nancy as a couple not working out, he'd realised how important being on good terms with the person you're dating's friends is to being a good boyfriend. Which is why it was integral that he became proper friends with Eddie's best friend.

--

"What are you wearing?"

Steve had just walked into the Munson trailer. He'd spent nearly an hour trying to perfect his hair, so he's mildly offended that his outfit is the first thing his boyfriend noticed. Steve glanced down at his shirt with the huge Green Day logo printed onto it. He wasn't sure why Eddie looked so appalled, it wasn't dirty or anything.

"Oh, Gareth let me borrow it. Cute right?" Eddie's nose scrunched up even further, full on glaring at the offensive item.

"I can't let you into my room with that shirt on."

"Well hopefully once we get to your room neither of us will have our shirts on" Steve chuckled, leaning in for a kiss but Eddie turned his head.

"I'm serious, big boy. The polos and tight jeans, you're whole hot preppy look actually, that all really does it for me and you know it. But this?" He pulled at the fabric of the shirt. "This is the one piece of clothing I never want to see you in."

Steve scoffed. Eddie pushed him gently away with a shake of his head.

"I'm turning off the benefits."

"What benefits?"

"The sex benefits, no more sex until you admit you're not a Green Day fan and we burn that shirt."

"Eddie this is my in with Gareth! He's finally starting to warm up to me." Steve whined. "Besides, you can't just, like, turn off us having sex!"

"Oh yes I can. All I have to do is think about you in this abominable outfit and my boner just-" He whistles, imitating his finger deflating. Steve pouted. He knew rationally he could just give Gareth back the shirt, but that would mean embarrassingly admitting he didn't like Green Day to Gareth and then trying to find another in with him.

So no, Eddie was just being unreasonable.

Anyway, he was totally bluffing about the sex. Steve hoped.

--

"It's been five days Robin! I mean, we haven't gone that long without having sex since.. since we started having sex!" Steve cried, following the woman around as she restocked the shelves. Even though he couldn't see her face he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

It was a serious situation though, at least in Steve's opinion. He and Eddie hung out all the time, and while he obviously enjoyed doing other things with his boyfriend, he wished the other man would at least have the decency to not be so sexy while performing daily tasks. Steve had been this close to jumping him in the frozen food section of the grocery store yesterday.

And he knew he wasn't the only desperate one, Eddie was suffering too. Obviously he'd assumed Steve would cave after a day, because he'd been all jumpy and grouchy for nearly a week. And he kept making that face that Steve recognised all too well whenever Steve did anything even slightly suggestive. Like when he'd bent down to put his laundry in the dryer, and when he turned back around Eddie was beet red and avoiding eye contact.

"Have you tried breaking out the old Harrington seduction techniques yet?" Robin shrugged, obviously not bothered by the fact her best friend was on the verge of death due to lack-of-sex-with-his-really-hot-boyfriend disease.

The thing was, he had tried his old methods. He tried wearing tighter shirts, that strained around his arms and showed off his midriff (but always making sure he was wearing some kind of Green Day memorabilia, because damn him if he wasn't going to be right about this). He'd invited Eddie along to his and Lucas' basketball game. He even tried straight up begging, knowing how much that usually gets Eddie worked up.

And nothing!

Although, there was still one move he hadn't tried yet...

--

"You want to what?" Eddie shot him an incredulous look.

"Help you study, of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help you with your problems? Besides I have this really neat method to help you revise." Steve let himself into the trailer and Eddie's room. He wasn't wearing a Green Day shirt today, but he did have a wristband, something he knew Eddie had spotted already as he walked into the room with his arms crossed.

"Right. And what method would this be?"

"Every time you get an answer right, I take off a item of clothing, and vice versa." Steve plopped himself down on the unmade bed, which he'd missed dearly. Eddie hadn't even let them take naps together in his room, insisting 'spooning almost always leads to sex with you'.

Eddie considered his offer carefully, before nodding with a shit eating grin. Steve cheered internally.

"Great!" Steve smiled before adding "Your rings all count as one item by the way." He tried not to look too smug at the way Eddie's confident grin faltered.

The game reached its boiling point very quick. Eddie had known more about Geography then Steve had expected, which reflected in the fact he only had his boxers and one sock left on. Eddie, however, wasn't doing too much better, sat in only his jeans (and Steve suspected no underwear underneath).

He's not sure who kissed who first, but suddenly Steve was pressed against the mattress, Eddie's thigh between his legs. Excitement coursed through him, his body so receptive to Eddie's touch after so long he wasn't even embarrassed at the noises he was letting out. His hips bucked up, causing Eddie to groan into his mouth.

"So the Green Day thing?" Eddie mumbled between kisses down Steve's neck. The noise Steve made was loud and high pitched, almost drowning out the man's next words. "It's over then?"

Steve paused, the hand that had been trailing down his boyfriend's chest pushed firmly against him as he pulled away.

"Over because you've let it go, right?" He mumbled. Eddie pulled back, his lips red and glossy.

"No, over because you let it go?" Steve huffed, sitting up and pulling his clothes back on. He tugged his jeans on in annoyance, storming out of the bedroom.

"You know what, I'm turning off the benefits now! No sex until you admit Green Day are better than... than Dio!" Steve yelled. He was irritated and extremely worked up but he was also incredibly stubborn. He heard a squawk of protest from behind him as he made his way outside.

"That wasn't even the rule!" Eddie called out, but Steve ignored him. He was not loosing this fight.

--

Listen, Metal music was fine, Steve endured listening to it with Eddie like he endured watching sports games with Steve. He was content in the knowledge that not loving every single one of each other's interest didn't mean they didn't love each other.

Punk was fine too, it still wasn't Steve's thing really, but it was okay and while Steve couldn't tell the difference, according to Gareth there was one. A huge one, if the way he'd been ranting about it for the past hour was anything to go by.

But between fighting with his boyfriend (because it was a genuine fight at this point), not having any sex for nearly two weeks, and being stuck listening to someone talk about something you have no interest in for hours, Steve couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't like punk music! I listen to Queen and Cyndi Lauper and sometimes Madonna and happy music that I can dance to without thinking about America's political landscape!" He blurted out. Gareth stopped his rambling about how Rob Harper was a better drummer than Pete Something, flashing Steve a confused expression.

"Then why were you pretending to?" He asked.

"I... I just didn't want you to just see me as 'Eddie's boyfriend'. I wanted to be your friend and Jeff told me you like punk music so I brought it up and..."

"Look, you are Eddie's boyfriend. Yeah, you're an okay dude, but I can acknowledge that without us having to do the whole friendship thing too, you know?" Gareth shrugged. Steve deflated.

"Right." He said, quickly making an excuse and leaving. Gareth shrugged off the weird feeling the guy's sad puppy dog eyed had given him, grabbing Steve's fries.

He felt kind of embarrassed that he'd been talking for ages with someone who didn't even care. He supposed it was nice of Steve to make the effort, Gareth wasn't aware he'd been trying so hard honestly. Jeff and Seth had warmed up to him pretty quickly but he thought that was just because they were just softies that were no immune to the 'Harrington Charm'.

"Steve?!" A loud yell startled him out of his thoughts.

Eddie stormed into the bar, wearing- holy shit, Gareth felt like he must have hit his head and started hallucinating. This day had taken such a weird turn, because there Eddie Munson stood before him decked out in a 'I heart Green Day' shirt. He also looked like it was taking every ounce of self control not to rip it off his body like it burned.

"Finally come around on the punk scene, Munson?" Gareth chortled. Eddie threw a fry at his face.

"Shut your trap, I need to find Steve before one of the gremlins sees me in this, they're too impressionable." He muttered, taking a seat as he looked around the bar.

"If this is a Steve thing you can stop anyway man, he admitted he doesn't really like them that much. It's kind of weird I mean, who lies about being into something to get someone to like them?"

"Dude, I spent the whole summer eating ice cream as a lactose intolerant person because Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy. He was just trying to find something for you to be friends about." Eddie shot him an unimpressed look, which Gareth thought was a bit high-and-mighty considering he just admitted to basically poisoning himself on a weekly basis for a guy he'd thought was straight at the time.

"Why exactly?"

"I don't know, Steve likes being close to people? He's basically besties with his ex girlfriend, man. Why are you so adamant he can't be yours?" Gareth considered this.

He remembered when Eddie had first told the band he was dating Steve Harrington. They'd all thought he was kidding, but there he was at their next rehearsal, cheering them on and spending his breaks holding Eddie's hand.

Gareth thought maybe it was a joke to Steve. Messing with the guy who likes men by making him think he has a shot with the former prom king. He thought it would end with Eddie in tears, and that had probably made him a bit more defensive than he needed to be. Maybe there was a small part of him, no matter how great Steve seemed, that still believed the guy was setting his best friend up for heartbreak.

"Look, I get that you might have reservations about him. But all I'm saying is- and I've got about a dozen preschoolers and multiple full grown adults that would back me up- Steve Harrington is a pretty great friend to have. So if he offers you friendship, you should take it." Eddie snatched a handful of fries as he got up, leaving Gareth alone at the bar.

--

Steve was half way out the door, wearing nothing but Eddie's Dio vest and grey sweatpants when he saw Eddie. He was standing in front of him, eyeing Steve like a starved man presented with a stake. Steve guessed he probably had a similar look, smiling at the Green Day shirt the man was wearing.

"Oh my god take your pants off." Eddie basically growled, slamming the front door to Steve's house shut as he stalked towards him. He pulled Steve into a ferocious kiss, hands quickly travelling down to his ass.

"Leave the shirt on." Steve gasped out. Eddie let out a muffled groan into his neck. They ran to the bedroom, loosing the vest and both of their pants on the way.

--

"Steve? You home, man?" Gareth heard a loud noise inside, followed by hopping, then Steve opened the door slightly. He was sweaty and shirtless, and his hair was a mess. He'd probably just been working out or whatever jocks did in their spare time.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what I said at the bar. You're a cool guy, I'd like for us to be friends, really. I even thought of something we could bond over; haircare. I've actually been meaning to ask you for some tips anyway." He admitted. Steve beamed, Gareth was almost scared the incredibly sweaty man was about to pull him into a hug. He didn't, he just kept smiling.

"That's real nice for you two, maybe next he'll ask you to prom!" Eddie's voice rang out from somewhere behind the door. Steve flushed a little and hushed him. Gareth was kind of confused as to why Eddie voice sounded so coarse and breathless, he didn't think Eddie had ever voluntarily exercised in his life.

"I would really like that, Gareth. I'll tell you everything you need to know, come by anytime. Except right now." He smiled again before slamming the door. Gareth heard more noises inside, wondering what the fuck they were up to until he heard a loud moan. Oh God, Gareth started running.

Still, he couldn't help but smile. It was always nice to make more friends.

[incorrecttigerandbunny]

[0kayblue]

Domestic Cravings

Domestic Cravings

Leon comes home early from a mission and stays determined not to wake you by going to his apartment instead of yours. When greeted with a more than pleasant surprise he’s unable to stop himself from asking the big question. 

Main Character Relations: Leon Kennedy x reader (romantic) 

Word Count: 2k (a little over) 

Fluff, fluff, fluff !!! 

A/N: Sometimes I don’t write angst. Sometimes. Anyway, I guess you could consider this a Valentine's Day present. Personally, I hate the holiday, but I do love to treat others. Enjoy! 

Leon sighed, the weight of his most recent mission weighing heavily on his shoulders. All things considered things went smoothly and everything wrapped up into a nice little bow earlier than expected. He was scheduled to be there for the next two days, but he ran into one of those rare circumstances where he made it back early. 

As he looked at the door handle to his front door he seriously debated his most recent plan to retreat to the solitude of his own apartment. This isn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to experience the warmth of your doorway. He wanted to crawl into your bed and find comfort in your embrace. But it was so late and the sun basically just set and you had to have been asleep. Not to mention he’d probably be throwing a wrench in your plans for the next day and the last thing he wanted was to be seen as a burden. 

So, selflessly Leon opened the front door. The apartment was cold as he disregarded his heavy duffel bag to the side. He shut and locked the door behind him as he kicked off his boots, too tired to be bothered to put them away just then. He ran his hand down his face as he sauntered into the kitchen. Exhaustion felt like an understatement, as his limbs felt heavy as he headed towards the fridge. The bright light caused him to squint as he was greeted to the sight of a fully stocked fridge. He smiled knowing that you had already started taking care of the little things for him. He grabbed the carton of orange juice before shutting the door. 

It really only made things harder as he set the carton on the kitchen island as he grabbed a glass. He had a key and he was always more than welcome, he lived there just as much as he lived here, if not more so. You have been dating for a year and had gotten the big three words out and expressed your love whenever and wherever it came about. Rather it be just an exchange of the sentiment via words or actions, he knew you loved him. He knew that you truly, deeply, genuinely loved him. You saw the good and the bad and still adored him. He couldn’t make any sense of it, but humans are creatures who are always harsher on themselves than on others. 

Your apartment always felt so homey and inviting, granted that could have just been because it was considerably smaller, but he digresses. He spent more time there than he did in the luxury suite that was located on the finer side of town. Big tall windows that allowed natural light in easily, a view of the city that ‘justified’ the rent prices. In all honesty he only chose to live here due to the fact that it was so close to the office. Even though he wondered why he even bothered being close to the office when he woke up in your bed most days anyway. 

Pouring his drink he started to really consider why you still remained in two separate housing units. Truth be told he never asked you to move in. He supposed you could’ve asked, but it wasn’t in your nature. You weren’t one to ask someone to pack up their life and throw everything away to be with you. He would in a heartbeat, there wouldn’t be a second thought about it; but it all goes back to people being harsher on themselves than other people. That and the fact that his work played a big factor in everything that Leon does. He was constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Finishing his drink with huge gulps he was unsure if you were even willing to give your place up. It was your first apartment and the rent wasn’t too bad- all things considered- your landlord was tolerable and neighbors were friendly enough. The walls were paper thin and the unit needed a multitude of repairs. Long story short, the place was old, Leon has had a number of things redone there; in fact the first thing he did was replace the locks. He was trying to talk you into a whole security system, but you shut him down. Having to deal with your landlord over the locks was a hassle on its own, you didn’t want to bother trying to reason with him over a high tech military grade security system. 

Your safety and wellbeing was on the top of Leon’s list and he used it in his arguments. But you just rolled your eyes and pointed out that he doesn’t even use his own security system. The thing did nothing but collect dust by the front door. It was your main argument and it stood firm, you told him that once he started using his own you would think about going toe to toe with your landlord over it, but until then his argument was null and void. 

He countered though with the fact that his apartment didn’t hold anything valuable. Sure, it had monetary value out the ass; but anything he had that was worth anything could be perceived as trash to the naked eye. A box full of movie tickets, cards, postcards, and blurry photos was not worth a dime. The memories that the items held were priceless, but they wouldn’t do a thing for anyone else. 

As he went to turn on the sink he noticed the dishwasher light was on, signaling that the dishwasher had finished its job. A crooked little smirk pulled on his face, not only did you go grocery shopping but you took care of the dishes. How lucky could he possibly be? A sense of a domestic life that he craved washing over him. It was time, he wanted you here, or he could stay there, it really didn’t matter. Either place would be home as long you were there. 

Turning off the sink he heard the floor creek. He set the glass in the sink slowly as he reached for Matilda that rested in his waistband. He was careful, he was sure he wasn’t followed, whoever was here had been here. His brain immediately went to you; second guessing having you move in. He moved quickly facing the hall, his arms outstretched and his finger on the trigger, “You’ve got three seconds.” He threatened and as he heard your deep sigh of relief he softened, setting the gun on the counter. You stepped into his line of vision as he flicked on the kitchen light, “(Y/N)?” He called out your name as he watched you shake slightly. The gap between the two of you was closed quickly as he pulled you to his chest with relief.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You said setting the gun you had down on the nearby couch end table. Wrapping your arms around him you scolded him, “You got off early and you didn’t call me?” 

“I scared you? You scared me.” He defended light heartly, “I didn’t want to wake you. It’s nearly three in the morning, baby.” He pulled away from you as he tucked your hair behind your ear. His lips found yours in a gentle kiss that he deepened as you hummed against him. 

“Did a great job at letting me sleep then, dear.” You teased him as you pulled away from him. You brushed his hair out of his eyes, examining the bags and purple hue underneath them.

“How was I supposed to know you were here?” He defended as your thumb ghosted over his cheekbone and you turned bright red. A sense of victory on his face as a wide smile found his features. 

“I just started the dishes and I didn’t want to fight traffic home-…” you peered into an ocean of blue before sighing, “I missed you. I sleep here when I miss you. I sleep here a lot.” You confessed before looking away from him, it was slightly embarrassing for you to admit. You had difficulty expressing that you craved a person. It didn’t make any sense with how open you were about him, but you just chalked it up to your miss independent complex. He just hummed in satisfaction as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His body relaxed as he kissed your neck with a sense of glee. He went from missing you, to worrying about you, to the joy of knowing that you were within arms reach in a matter of seconds. 

“I missed you more.” He cooed as he kissed your neck, “Glad you’re here.” 

“I love you.” The words fell from your lips so gently and lovingly that his grip on you tightened and you giggled slightly. He made you feel like a teenage girl that was too head over heels for her own good.  “Let’s get you to bed. Shower?” 

“Please.” Your hands found his hands and gently pulled him down the hall and into his room. He noted his side of the bed was the one that you were just resting on; a sense of warmth washing over him. He squeezed your hand gently as you led him into the bathroom. As you let go of him you turned on the shower. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he looked around and noticed your shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush, lotions, and other toiletries littered in his bathroom. 

You approached him and helped him pull off his shirt, you looked him over. A deep sigh falling from your lips as your heart ached at the sight of bruises and cuts. It hurt to see and you could only imagine the pain he felt. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Promise.” 

“This the best they could do to patch you up?”  

“Down, tiger.” He teased as he soaked up your possessive tone.

 You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shower, pulling off your shirt before putting your palm under the running water. You pulled your pajama shorts off and as you turned to face him a sense of nervousness shot up your spine. You usually would tease him about a staring problem, but you were unsure of where his emotions were. Physically he looked exhausted- his movements told you he was exhausted- but mentally you had no idea where he stood. 

Not to mention that you had no clue how he felt about you staying here when he wasn’t here. Sure, he said he was glad you were here, but he never asked you to be here.

“The water is going to get cold if you just keep staring. C’mon.” You nodded to the shower as you undid his pants. His hands found yours, stopping you, as he took care of the rest and disregarded them in the hamper. You tried to place what he was thinking as you climbed into the shower, him not far behind you. 

As the warm water hit his back he let out a sigh of relief. The sound music to your ears as you started messing with his shampoo. You went to work the shampoo in his hair and through half lidded eyes he watched you. A little smile on your face while your tired eyes focused on what you were doing. 

He could get used to this, he was getting used to it. 

He loved you. He loved seeing your things in his space, he loved that you were taking care of him, he loved that you were here. 

You tilted his head gently and started rinsing the shampoo out. A protest never fell from his lips as you scratched his scalp and he moaned softly. You reached for his conditioner and did the same thing, just letting the conditioner sit while scrubbing him down with his signature fresh pine scented shower gel. 

You worshiped him as you bathed him, kissing the cuts and bruises softly as you rinsed him off. He deserved to be taken care of like this and you didn’t mind being the one to do it. It was slightly embarrassing, but he trusted you with his life and you knew his body just as he knew yours. “Relax.” You cooed as you went to get out of the shower, “Stay in here as long as you’d like. I’m going to get you-.” You stopped as he grabbed your wrist and his other hand found your hip. You gave him a concerned look as you scanned his face, you stepped closer to him as he pulled you to his chest. Your fingers tangled themselves into his hair as you tried to soothe him. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No, not really.” He rested his head against your shoulder, “Just want you.” He’s wanted you since he got back, he’s wanted you since he left. You nodded as you held him against you. 

You both stood there until the water started to run cold. It took some convincing but eventually you got him out and in pajamas. You were in bed wearing one of his t-shirts that he practically had to fight you over wearing. Your eyes shut as you listened to his movements in the bathroom, refusing sleep. Waiting for him. 

As Leon turned off the faucet he took a good look in the mirror. A face that had a smile plastered on it as he thought about the woman in his bed. The woman who just doted on him like he was made of glass. The woman who held him so close and made him feel so loved that it all felt worth it. The woman that he wanted to take his last name. 

He left the bathroom and stood in the doorway as the bathroom light illuminated you just enough to where he could watch your chest rise and fall. As your eyes opened he was held captive as you smiled. 

“What?” You asked through a yawn as you pulled the covers up to your shoulders while you stretched. 

“I love you.” He beamed as he turned off the bathroom light and climbed into his side of the bed. Your scent flying off of the fabric of his sheets as the radiant warmth of your presence drew him in. Wrapping his arm around your torso he pulled you to him. 

“I love you more.” Your voice heavy with sleep as you cuddled against his chest. He adored these moments where you didn’t fight with your words and just said what you were feeling. 

He chuckled, “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead as you yawned. “Go to sleep.” He cooed as he rubbed a hand firmly up and down your back. 

“Leon…?” You muttered against his chest. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me here while you’re not here. I won’t do it again.” He raised an eyebrow at the apologetic sorrow in your tone. He knew your past, he knew your uncertainty, but he could’ve sworn that he told you he was glad you were here. “I just missed you and if I crossed a line-.” 

“Hey, hey.” He shushed you, “I’m glad you're here, remember? I want you here. Forever and always. Okay?” You nodded and tried not to sniffle. 

“Okay.” You fisted the hem of his shirt as you tried to keep yourself calm against him. He kissed your forehead before petting your hair. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was starting to slow to the pace that it does when you sleep. 

He knew he should wait, but he was too excited. 

“Baby?” He looked down at you as you hummed in response telling him to go ahead with his question. That you were still listening and ready to talk about whatever he needed. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he admired you, “Will you marry me?” 

Your tired eyes opened, “What?” You were in a state of disbelief. 

He asked again, “Marry me?” Silence fell over the room as the cold chill of uncertainty worked its way through his blood stream. What was he thinking? Was he thinking? You didn’t even live with him and you’d been together for only a year. Wasn’t the next step just to ask you to move in? That was the logical question. Was it too late to rephrase the question? Could he save this somehow? 

“Yes.” You answered honestly, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” He let out a deep breath of relief before his lips found yours. His kiss was deep and passionate as he adjusted himself to be level with you. You welcomed him as you melted against him. Exchanging passion and overwhelming love within each kiss. Each parting one leaves a lasting imprint against your souls. 

He regretfully parted from you to get a good look at you. To judge based on what he knew if this was truly something you wanted. Your bright smile causes him to let out a chuckle of relief before leaning his forehead against yours. You laughed alongside him as your hand intertwined with his, “I love you, Mrs. Kennedy.” He said he ran his hand through your hair. It fell so naturally from his lips that you could’ve sworn that it had always been your last name. 

“I haven’t signed any papers yet.” You joked before peppering a couple kisses on his cheek, “Don’t even have a ring yet.” 

He rolled his eyes before his lips captured yours, “It’s in the closet.” He mumbled as he held your face against his. 

“Mhm.” You moaned against his lips, even though you didn’t believe him. He was telling you the truth, hidden in his safe was a little black velvet box that held the engagement ring he picked out six months ago.