silly goose | kwon soonyoung
hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii we're back baby.
genre is: crack. fake dating sort of. friends to ??? basically in love i guess. everyone is an idiot and it's awesome.
warnings: reader is implied to be female, wears a dress, does hair and makeup, reader is briefly followed in a menacing kind of way, soonyoung is literally the most dumbest man ever but in the BEST way, reader's friends are quite honestly the actual worst, there is a rather frightening animal encounter that's mostly just funny but could be triggering if you're afraid of birds, lmk if there's anything else i forgot!!!
word count: 8.3k
If one was to look up the definition of disappointment, you’re almost positive they’d see a picture of your mom’s face if she ever found out you were in this situation. You’re disappointed in yourself. It was never your plan to be in a loud, crowded club, smushed up against the bar by two large bikers who are bouncing up and down to the beat of the music so that the spikes on the back of the taller one’s jacket get dangerously close to your eyeball. And yet, here you are.
You desperately search the room for the group of very tipsy women you came here with, but they’re nowhere to be found. Scowling, you start to inch out from behind the bikers into a slightly more open space, but even with your improved vantage point, you don’t see them. You curse. Did they really leave you here?
It’s hard for you to understand why you were even invited to this bachelorette party. The bride is your childhood best friend, but you’ve been out of touch for years. Your lives went in completely different directions after high school, clearly evidenced by the predicament in which you currently find yourself. Where you had never been the life of the party, she seemed to have no life without a party. You found yourself wishing for the thousandth time you could be at home with your books and your remote and your cat.
You decide there’s nothing for it and head outside to try and call your friend. She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is slurred and barely distinguishable over the cacophony of sound in the background of the call. You think she’s saying that they’re taking a bus to a bar across town -- about an hour away from where you are now. To get there, you’d have to call a cab and pay almost $100, or you could walk to your apartment, which is three blocks from here. “I’m going to go home,” you tell her, and she laughs and agrees and hangs up.
You grimace at your phone screen and shiver slightly. It’s a chilly night, and you didn’t bring a jacket, so you decide it’s best if you start walking. The way home is well-lit and relatively crime free, so you aren’t nervous as you set off from the club.
That is, until you notice someone is tailing you. He’s a taller man, with scruffy facial hair and red-rimmed eyes that scare you. As you glance over your shoulder, he calls after you. “Where are you headed?” he asks.
“Going to meet my boyfriend,” you claim, desperately trying to shake him off. He seems to be picking up speed, slowly gaining on you as you walk, and as you round a corner you see a group of three well-dressed men standing in front of the movie theater just ahead. “That’s him right there,” you say, pointing at them, and the man trailing after you only picks up his speed, so you make the risky choice to jog toward them and grab ahold of the nearest man’s arm. He has his back toward you, but as you wrap your hand around his bicep, he turns to look at you.
Oh, wow, you think. Because you couldn’t have chosen a hotter man to pretend to be your boyfriend -- unless, of course, you were to have chosen either of his friends. It was strange to be surrounded by so many extremely attractive men, almost like interrupting a model meetup. But you quickly recover, smiling at the man whose arm you grabbed and saying, “Hi, honey.”
You try to communicate with your eyes, and though the man at first looks confused, he glances over your head and sees the man who’d been following you and his eyes light with understanding. “Hello, muffin!” he shouts far too loudly.
You wince. Muffin? you think to yourself. But still, you can’t help but be amused as he puts an arm around you and sends an angry look at the man. “This is my girlfriend,” he yells at him.
“You’re being way too obvious, dude,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends hisses at him.
“I call BS,” the stalker says, to your horror and surprise. “What’s her name?”
“Mildred,” your fake boyfriend says with no hesitation.
You try not to let the shock of this answer register on your face.
The stalker hesitates. “Is he really your boyfriend, Mildred?”
You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Uh, yep.”
“Oh, okay then,” the stalker says. The three of you stare at each other for awhile before he turns around and leaves.
“I cannot believe that worked,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends says, smacking his forehead.
“Remind me never to call you in a crisis,” the other one says, chuckling.
“What do you mean?” your fake boyfriend says indignantly. He looks at you, as though wanting your opinion, his arms still around you. “I feel like we nailed that.”
You can’t help but smile at him. He really is unfairly pretty, with perfectly tousled black hair, an artful slit in one eyebrow, and a smile that has you wondering if maybe you do believe in love at first sight. “Thanks for helping me out,” you say, so you don’t have to lie and agree that he nailed it. “Do I really look like a Mildred, though?”
“Mildred is a lovely name,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you are lovely.”
You laugh, feeling a little hot around the collar. “And what’s your name?” you ask him, holding out your hand for him to shake.
He takes it and shakes it with a warm smile. “I’m Soonyoung,” he says. He releases you from his grip with a small shake, as though reminding himself to do it. As if he’d gotten lost in you for a second.
“Soonyoung,” you repeat. “And your friends?”
“Seungkwan,” the shorter of the two others says.
“Seokmin,” the taller one replies.
“Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin,” you chant. “Well, thanks so much for your help, guys. I need to get home to my cat.”
“By yourself?” Seokmin says in a worried tone.
“In the dark?” Seungkwan follows, equally worried.
“Without a jacket?” Soonyoung says, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Well...” you say. “It’s not very far.”
“How far?” Seungkwan asks.
You hesitate. “How do I know you’re not serial killers?”
They all blink at you. “Us?” Seokmin asks.
“We’re idiots,” Soonyoung says sincerely.
They all nod in agreement. “Seriously. If we were serial killers, we’d be caught in no time,” Seungkwan says.
“Let us walk you home,” Soonyoung insists. “I want to meet your cat.”
You’re still a bit nervous, but they keep a respectful distance as they walk you down the next two and a half blocks to your apartment building. You quickly realize that they weren’t lying.
They are actually idiots.
The entire fifteen minute walk, Seungkwan and Seokmin are arguing about whether or not tomatoes are a fruit, culminating in Soonyoung opining that if tomatoes are a fruit, ketchup is a smoothie. The other two are (understandably) outraged by this, leaving you comforted that you actually could probably take all three of them in a fight at once, seeing as how they all seem to share one single brain cell.
There’s something so endearing about their banter, though. So much so that when you finally arrive at the apartment, you find yourself asking if they want to come in for a minute and escape the chilly weather.
“Are you sure?” Seokmin asks.
“Positive. I have some instant ramen we could make, too. Just to warm you up. As a thank you for getting me home safe.”
They look at each other and then nod. “We’d love to,” Seungkwan says.
So you lead them up to your door on the third floor. “Your apartment is so cute!” Soonyoung exclaims, admiring the pretty crocheted decorations that line your walls. “I love these.”
“Thanks,” you say. “I made them.”
He looks at you in awe. “You did? That’s so cool!”
“I’m glad you think so,” you say with a smile.
“What do you do for work?” Soonyoung asks you.
“I’m a social worker,” you tell him. “I work with families in tough situations. Help them get their feet under them.”
“Do you work for the government, then?” asks Seungkwan.
“Make yourself at home,” you tell the three of them, who are standing awkwardly in the entry. As they settle onto the couch, you explain, “I actually work for a subcontractor of the government. We’re a nonprofit. On weekends, we also do a soup kitchen, and help run food banks throughout the county.”
“That must be very fulfilling work,” Seokmin points out. “Do you like it? I hear it can be tiring.”
“It’s good, but I don’t get paid enough,” you admit. “And before you ask, I do have a roommate. She’s just in the hospital. Appendicitis.”
They all wince, and Seungkwan hums sympathetically. You head to your pantry and rummage around looking for the instant ramen, finally locating it and putting a pan on the stove with water. Meanwhile, the guys find your box full of games and pull out the Monopoly. “We should play this!” Seokmin says.
Seungkwan laughs. “We just met her, and you already want to ruin our friendship?”
Soonyoung pulls out a deck of cards. “How about Scum?”
The three of them set up the game while you make the ramen, and by the time you’re all served up all the cards have been dealt. You watch them over your own bowl of ramen, amused at the gusto with which they eat and heartwarmed by their compliments. You’re generally a bit of an introvert, but even you have been lonely the past few days with your roommate gone, and the unexpected company is warm, inviting, and friendly.
Until Scum begins. Unbeknownst to you, this group of three is the most cutthroat, merciless group of players who have ever lived. Their competition knows no bounds, and they seem determined to destroy each other, by whatever means necessary. “Don’t worry,” Seokmin whispers conspiratorially to you while Soonyoung and Seungkwan argue tooth-and-nail about a minor rule of the game. “They’re always like this, but they really do love each other.”
It takes all of them by surprise when you are the first to get rid of your cards, guaranteeing you the “king” spot. “That came out of nowhere!” complains Seungkwan.
You shrug. “I’m good with strategy games. Never challenge me to a game of Settlers of Catan,” you joke.
Just then, your cat pokes his head around the corner and mewls reproachfully at all the noise you’re making. “Hi!” Soonyoung says excitedly, quickly dropping his cards to head over to the cat, making little cooing noises at him as he strokes his soft orange fur. “What’s its name?”
“He’s a he,” you tell him. “And his name is Tiger.”
The three men all freeze and look at you. “What?” you ask, looking around at them in worry.
“No way,” Soonyoung breathes.
Seungkwan groans. “You’ve really done it now.”
“What did I do?” you ask, bewildered.
“That’s like, the forbidden word,” Seokmin says, his tone apologetic.
Your eyes land on Soonyoung, whose entire face has lit up. “I love tigers,” he says, looking on the verge of tears.
“Love is an understatement,” Seungkwan says. “He is about to ask for your hand in marriage.”
“Will you marry me?” Soonyoung asks immediately afterward, making you laugh. His hands are still gently cupping Tiger’s face, his thumbs rubbing the cat’s fur back tenderly.
“I barely know you, Soonyoung,” you remind him. “You’ll have to pretend to be my boyfriend a couple more times before I’ll agree to marriage.”
“Bet,” Soonyoung says. “This cat needs a father. There’s nothing sadder than a fatherless cat.”
You privately disagreed, but it makes you laugh again all the same. “When am I ever going to need you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”
Soonyoung tsks. “I’m sure we could think of something.”
But almost as soon as you’d asked the question, you remembered: the wedding.
Your friend’s wedding -- the one who’d abandoned you tonight. And the one who, against your wishes, had invited your horrible ex-boyfriend. You’d had a plus-one — your roommate, who you’d enlisted to make the entire event endurable. But last-minute, her sister had needed help babysitting her daughter while she went to a divorce hearing on the day of the wedding. The wedding was in two weeks, and you didn’t have a backup date.
Soonyoung watches in satisfaction as your face falls. “Tell me,” he says. “How can I be of service?”
“Well…you can say no,” you preface, and he chuckles. “But...”
You launch into the story of the night. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin listen well throughout it, making noises of exasperation and annoyance as you explain why you’d had to interrupt their evening by pretending to be Soonyoung’s girlfriend. “They really left you there?” Soonyoung asks, frowning. He seems to tire of crouching by Tiger, so he sits crosslegged on the ground. You watch carefully as Tiger gingerly climbs into Soonyoung’s lap -- something it took him almost a year to do with you. Tiger is an affectionate and social cat, but he does take some time to warm up, usually. But something about Soonyoung seems to have put him at ease. Soonyoung doesn’t even seem to notice, absently massaging his fingers into Tiger’s neck fur.
“They really did,” you finally reply, oddly touched by the sight of Soonyoung with your cat.
“You need better friends,” Seungkwan says indignantly.
You give him a weak smile. “You’re probably right about that. But I already said I’d go, and they’ve planned for me. So it’d be bad to back out now.” You sigh. “It would be so nice to have someone to go with who’s friendly. And you can totally say no if that’s too much awkwardness to put up with for an evening.”
“Well, I have no problems with going if it means I get to spend more time with your cat in between now and then,” Soonyoung says, tickling Tiger’s stomach and giggling as Tiger swats at his fingers.
“You can always come see my cat whenever you want,” you promise him. “Even if you say no.”
“Really?” he asks, sounding thrilled. “I mean, I’m saying yes, though.”
You let out a deep breath. “Thank you so much. You’re such a lifesaver.”
“I know. Imagine the poor decisions this cat would’ve made if I hadn’t decided to be his dad.”
“I resent the implication that I am a horrible mother who can’t raise a cat to be a good citizen who makes positive contributions to society.”
“Yeah, you psycho, respect this single mother!” Seungkwan says, smacking Soonyoung’s arm.
“Well, you’re partially right,” you admit with a laugh. “Tiger is a war criminal with warrants in 32 countries.”
Soonyoung laughs as well. “See! Fatherless behavior.”
“Plenty of cats grow up to be respectable without fathers,” you say indignantly. “Just not Tiger. He’s possessed of a devil.”
The four of you all have a good laugh about this, while Tiger chirps indignantly at the sudden sound, clambering out of Soonyoung’s lap and darting down the hallway. “Traitor!” Soonyoung calls after him, heading back to the card table to finish playing.
By the time the trio bows themselves out of your apartment, you feel warm and sleepy. It’s been a long time since you’ve had people over to your house and enjoyed it — you had forgotten how nice it was.
******
“Hey there,” you greet your friend Ginger, who waves at you from her hospital bed.
“Hi,” she says back. “How was the bachelorette party?”
“A complete disaster, as predicted,” you tell her, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “When are you coming home?”
“Tonight, if things go well,” she informs you. “But you said you had something to tell me. Is it good or bad?”
“It’s good,” you say with a shy smile.
“How good?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Like, weird-good.”
“Explain.”
“I found a date for tomorrow.”
Her eyes go wide. “You caught someone’s eye? During the bachelorette party?”
“No, after. Well, actually, the guy whose eye I caught was a total creep. But then I forced a different dude to be my fake boyfriend to shake off the first dude, and he agreed to be my date to the wedding.”
“Is he gonna pretend to be your boyfriend there too?” she asks, a suggestive edge to her voice.
“I don’t think so. I mean, we just talked about him coming with me so I wouldn’t have to go alone.”
“How did that even come up?” she asks you.
“Well, they kind of walked me home...”
“They?”
“There were three of them initially,” you explain apologetically.
“You let three random strangers walk you home?”
“Well, they openly admitted to being idiots when I asked if they were serial killers, so I thought it was probably safe.”
“You’re an idiot,” Ginger says dryly.
“Anyway, Soonyoung -- the one who’s gonna be my date -- wanted to meet Tiger. Because he loves tigers. And then it kind of devolved into playing Scum, and then Soonyoung claimed that if he just spent more time with Tiger he’d stop committing dastardly crimes every chance he gets. And then he asked if I’d need a fake boyfriend so that he could help me raise my cat right, and it was this whole thing, and now that I’m telling you the story it sounds really dumb but it was kind of sweet.”
Ginger is staring at you with raised eyebrows during this whole account. When you finally clam up, she sighs. “So, I hate to be the person to have to tell you this, but Soonyoung is actually in love with you.”
“What?” you gasp. “Why do you think that?”
“He is using your cat to get closer to you because he’s too scared to really ask you out because he really likes you.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. You should’ve seen his face when he heard the cat was named Tiger.”
Ginger rolls her eyes. “Girl, I know more about men than I care to admit. This is textbook crush behavior.” She grunts as she adjusts her position. “And I think you like him back, too.”
“I barely know him,” you protest, heat rising in your cheeks.
“Is he hot?” she asks shrewdly.
“Yes,” you answer, without hesitation or even a single iota of forethought. You cringe at your own obviousness, and Ginger laughs.
“It’s okay,” she reassures. “But how hot?”
You consider for a while before answering. “It’s hard to describe,” you complain, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer it takes. “He’s...pretty.”
“A pretty boy?” Ginger repeats.
“No, like, he doesn’t look dainty -- but he’s not rugged or anything. But he doesn’t exactly look soft either. But he’s not quite all the way to edgy.” You realize you’re rambling once you catch sight of Ginger’s face.
Ginger shakes her head. “You’re a goner,” she sighs.
Conveniently, your phone starts buzzing before you can respond -- not that you really had a response anyway. It’s an unknown number, but you decide to answer it. “Hello?” you say.
“Hi,” a familiar voice chirps on the other end. Your eyes go wide, and you mouth “Soonyoung” to Ginger, who is observing curiously.
“Hi!!!” you respond back, and then wince -- you were a little too eager, and Ginger makes a face at you too. You resolve to be much cooler going forward, and take a deep breath to steady yourself.
“Hi,” he says again, this time sounding amused. “What’s up?”
“Hi. Um, nothing much,” you reply. “What’s up with you?” Wow, what a zinger! you think to yourself. Why did you choose this moment to become an awkward fumbling mess?
“Well, I’m near your apartment, and I was wondering if you were home. I missed Tiger, you see.”
“Ah,” you say. “Well, um, I’m actually...out right now?” Your voice raises a few notes too high at the end of your phrase, and Ginger is pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, trying to fight back a laugh.
“Ah, that’s bad luck. Where are you?” Soonyoung asks.
“I’m just visiting my roommate in the hospital,” you say, confused as Ginger frantically shakes her head and makes an X with her hands.
“Tell him you were just leaving and you’ll be there soon,” she hisses, pushing you with her foot off of her hospital bed.
“Oh, how is she doing?” Soonyoung asks. “Is she feeling better?”
“She’s absolutely fine,” you grunt, trying to fend off Ginger’s attacks and failing, slumping off the bed onto the floor. “I was actually on my way home, though. Do you have time to wait?” You stand and snatch your bag from off the small table in the room and stick your tongue out at Ginger, who blows you a kiss and waves enthusiastically as you leave.
“Yes,” Soonyoung responds immediately. “Actually, are you hungry? I brought some chicken.”
“I’m actually starving,” you answer honestly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
True to your word, you sprint all the way out of the hospital and almost all the way home, stopping around the corner to your place to try and catch your breath and look cool when you see Soonyoung. Ginger’s words bounce around your brain in a disconcerting way, and you feel like you’re sweaty and flustered in a way that no amount of time stalling could really fix. So you decide to just bite the bullet and turn the corner.
You can see Soonyoung waiting at the door to your apartment building. When he catches sight of you, his whole face lights up in a smile. And oh, what a smile it is. You have to physically restrain yourself from squealing at how obscenely adorable he is -- his eyes softening into crescents, his cheeks going all round and his nose scrunching just slightly. You can’t help but smile back as you finally reach him. “Hey,” you say, going for a breezy, cool vibe and missing the mark embarrassingly.
“Hi,” Soonyoung says, and to your comfort, he sounds just as eager as you did on the phone. “Um, how was the walk?”
“It was great! Super chill, super lowkey,” you lie through your teeth, thinking about how you had sprinted in a very not-chill, not-lowkey way to come see him.
“That’s good!” he exclaims back.
“What were you doing near my house?” you ask, leading him toward the door.
“Oh, well, actually, I had to go visit this restaurant my friend works at,” he says, stuttering a little. “And he actually made extra chicken, so I thought -- well, and I knew you lived close by, so I thought it would be fun if we...I don’t know, got to know each other before the wedding?” He shrugs cutely.
“You can just say you wanted to see my cat,” you tease, pressing the elevator button.
“I did, on the phone,” he reminds you.
“Oh,” you say.
“Oh,” he replies.
The two of you stare at each other for a minute.
Then, Soonyoung says, “Why are we so awkward?”
He doesn’t sound worried -- he even has a laugh in his voice. And for some reason, the easiness with which he addresses the strange tension in the air seems to dissipate it a bit.
“I’m sorry,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not very good with surprises. I never know how to react. But I’m very glad you’re here.” Finally, the sincerity of the words shines through, and though you normally would’ve been embarrassed at the admission, you aren’t.
He smiles that brilliant smile yet again, and your heart does a little happy-dance in your chest. “Me too,” he replies fervently.
“What do you do for work?” you ask him as the two of you board the elevator. “I never asked, before.”
“Oh, that. I’m actually a kindergarten teacher,” he tells you.
You are gobsmacked at this information. “You don’t look like a teacher,” you tell him.
“Oh yeah? What do I look like?” he asks, striking a ridiculous pose.
You giggle. “A rockstar, maybe. Or a band manager.”
“Thank you, I think,” Soonyoung says.
“You’re welcome,” you say with emphasis. “It was a compliment.”
The two of you chat aimlessly all the way into your apartment, where Soonyoung immediately starts calling for Tiger. “Your daddy’s home,” he bellows into the empty apartment. “Where are you, son?”
You absolutely know the neighbors must have heard him, but your brief embarrassment is soothed when Tiger comes tearing around the corner, coming to a screeching halt at Soonyoung’s feet. “He never does that,” you say, in awe of this overt affection from your normally skittish-around-strangers cat.
“He knows who I am,” Soonyoung says, bending down to pick up Tiger and cradle him in his arms like a baby. “My son,” he coos, tickling his belly and laughing when Tiger bats at his fingers with his paws.
You catch yourself before Soonyoung can tear his attention away from Tiger, knowing you were probably staring at them with heart-eyes. Shaking yourself, you open the box of chicken Soonyoung left on the counter. “Do you mind? I actually haven’t eaten today.”
Soonyoung’s gaze snaps to you. “It’s like four in the afternoon!” he exclaims indignantly. “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten today?”
“Well, I woke up kind of late, and then I was running around doing important errands, and then I had to go see my friend,” you explain. “I kind of forgot.”
He tsks in annoyance. “Well, you need to take care of yourself too. How am I supposed to co-parent this cat with you if you pass away from malnutrition?”
“You are so dramatic,” you laugh. “This doesn’t happen very often. I promise I’m a regular eater.”
He eyes you suspiciously. “Okay. You’d better be.”
You dig into the chicken while you watch Soonyoung play with Tiger. “Holy cow!” you exclaim. “This is amazing.”
“I’ll tell my friend you said so. You should go to his restaurant, it’s right across the street from you.”
“I definitely will,” you say, taking a seat at the table and patting the chair next to you. “But I think it’s time for your interview.”
“Interview?” he asks.
You nod. “I’m not about to just let the first cat-loving man I come across be Tiger’s father. I need to see if you’re prepared for the role.”
So Soonyoung, giving you a cautious look, comes to sit beside you with Tiger trotting after him. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him.
“That’s hardly a standard interview question,” he protests, laughing.
“This is hardly a standard interview,” you shoot back. “Now tell me.”
He thinks for a minute. “Black and white.”
“Hmm, interesting,” you muse, but before you can go any further, he raises a hand.
“How about you?” he asks.
“I’m asking the questions!” you say indignantly, and he chuckles.
“Okay, but shouldn’t I know my son’s mother?” He makes a face. “That sounded weird. You know what I meant.”
You stare at him, considering, for awhile before answering. “Orange,” you finally reply. Then, in a teasing tone, you add, “Like a tiger.”
“You’re joking,” Soonyoung insists, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide.
“I’m actually not,” you admit. “And can I confess something else: tigers are easily in my top five favorite animals.”
“Well, anything lower than number one is just bad taste,” Soonyoung claims, grinning.
“Ah, well, I guess we can’t all have entirely correct opinions,” you sigh. “Except you, of course.”
“You’re such a fast learner,” Soonyoung praises.
And on the conversation goes. Usually, when talking to someone as pretty as Soonyoung is, you find yourself tongue-tied and awkward, but talking with Soonyoung is as easy as breathing. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man seems to have no idea how gorgeous he is -- he doesn’t take himself too seriously, and is incredibly silly in a way most men of his level of attractiveness aren’t willing to be. And he makes you feel smart and interesting, appearing just as fascinated by your answers as you are with his.
Over the course of your conversation, you learn that Soonyoung is close with his mother; he loves all animals; he befriends strangers on public transportation and is a caring and loyal friend to so many people he can hardly keep track of them all. He can’t drink very well, he gets sad late at night, and when you ask him what he’s most proud of, he tells you that he always knows who the killer is in a game of mafia.
Try as you might to discover any red flags that would disqualify Soonyoung as the perfect father for your cat, your interview proves quite the opposite. The less-than-rational wing of your mind-palace is already picking out your wedding colors for the inevitable moment you marry this man. The less feral part of your mind is, surprisingly, cautiously optimistic. For all your reservations about dating, Soonyoung has proven someone you very much enjoy getting to know.
After several hours, the two of you arrive at the first lull in the conversation, when your laughs fade out and you just look at each other, electricity charging the air. Soonyoung breaks the silence. “So, did I get the job?”
You pretend to deliberate for a single second. “Absolutely,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.
He throws his arms around you instead. “We’re actually married now, and married people hug,” he explains.
You giggle nervously, despite the growing heat in your face. “I don’t remember you proposing today,” you scold him lightly, still hugging.
“The one from last night is still valid,” he says, breaking apart. “Honey,” he adds as an afterthought.
Just then, your phone rings. You answer it quickly, rushing to your bedroom to take the call. After a few minutes, you return to the kitchen apologetically. “It’s work,” you tell Soonyoung. “A situation came up with a client.”
“Do you need to leave now?” Soonyoung asks, jumping up. “Can I give you a ride?”
You shake your head. “It’s actually an hour drive and I’m not supposed to bring people who aren’t privy to the case. But — well, Tiger usually gets fed around 8 pm, and I don’t think I’ll be back by then. Would you be okay to do that? If not it’s totally fine, I can call my sister-in-law to do it.”
Soonyoung beams. “Of course. Can I wait for you to get home?”
You blink. “Soonyoung, it’ll be at least four hours from now. Probably more. We’re talking past midnight.”
“No school tomorrow,” Soonyoung reminds you, shrugging. “Plus, a group of friends invited me out to drink tonight, and I didn’t really want to go. Now I’ve got an excuse.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. “You are genuinely the best,” you say, going to him and wrapping him up in your arms. “Thanks.”
He seems taken aback by your sudden hug, but responds all the same. “Be safe on your way to work,” he says softly in your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck, and you steal one final look at him before leaving.
******
By the time you get home, it’s nearly one in the morning. As you slump tiredly against the steering wheel of your car before going in, you check your phone and find several missed calls from Ginger. It is only then you remember she was scheduled to come home today, and more than likely did — to Soonyoung.
You race up to your apartment and open the door. Sure enough, curled up on the couch with Tiger is Soonyoung. He’s fast asleep, his cheek squished against the firm cushion, Tiger keeping vigil at his stomach. Tiger meows reproachfully as you come in, taking quiet steps to Ginger’s room. She’s resting with her back against the headboard, but she opens her eyes at the sound of her door.
“So, I came home to a man in my house,” she says expectantly. “That was crazy.”
“Yeah. We had a runaway situation that I had to figure out, and Soonyoung stayed to feed Tiger and make sure I got home okay,” you explain softly, not wanting to wake Soonyoung.
“I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer,” Ginger whispers. “He was very attentive. Kept checking on me and asking if I needed anything.”
“He did?” you ask, your heart in your throat.
“He seems like a tender little guy,” Ginger says, watching you carefully.
“He does,” is your simple reply. You can’t trust yourself to speak without crying.
******
Soonyoung ended up accidentally sleeping over that night. In the morning, the three of you — Soonyoung, Ginger, and yourself — spent a fractionally awkward but mostly pleasant morning breakfasting together before Soonyoung insisted it was time for him to shower. After that day, he dropped by frequently.
Sometimes he would stay for just twenty minutes, dropping off a book or visiting Tiger. Occasionally he’d bring by an ingredient for a dinner you were making, and you made it a habit to invite him to join on those occasions. The easy conversation between the two of you became an easy friendship, bursting with silliness and laughter and acceptance of each other’s quirks. You felt more and more like your real self around him. Which was crazy, especially given how thoroughly and extremely smitten with him you are.
It had taken you less than a week to realize your feelings. You’d expected to start feeling uncomfortable around Soonyoung, but for some reason, he just made it so clear that he cared about you that you didn’t even worry about if he liked you or not.
You reflect on this as you drive to your friend’s house to get ready before the wedding. You’re nervous about how this whole day will go, but the promise of seeing Soonyoung later makes it all worth it. In fact, just the thought of him being with you seems to calm your nerves and make it easier to face the day.
You mostly keep to yourself with the bustle of getting ready. The soft pink dresses the bride picked as your bridesmaids’ dresses are not your normal style or color, but you like how the sleek satin fabric looks on you. It pairs well with your minimal hairstyle and makeup. Before you know it, it’s time for you to go get Soonyoung.
When he opens the door, his face breaks into a huge smile. “You look beautiful!” he exclaims, covering his mouth with both hands.
“You look so handsome!” you reply, looking him up and down. He looks amazing in his black suit, white shirt, and black tie.
“You’re not supposed to outshine the bride,” Soonyoung says sternly. “I don’t think they’ll let us in.”
“Stop it,” you say, flustered.
“I’m serious,” Soonyoung insists.
“Well, if they don’t let us in, I think I’d prefer that,” you say honestly.
“I’m actually excited,” Soonyoung admits. “I think it’ll be fun.”
“Even though my friends are...”
“Kind of awful? Yeah, I’m not worried about it.”
“Why?” you ask.
“Because I’m not planning on paying them any attention at all,” Soonyoung says simply, his eyes fixed on you. And as he helps you into the driver’s seat, you can’t help but smile.
The wedding is a lavish affair. After the complicated wedding ceremony, where you stood at the farthest distance from the bride and had a hard time tearing your eyes away from Soonyoung, who stared at you the whole time, he whisks you away to your dinner table.
“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” you ask as Soonyoung pulls out your chair for you to sit down.
“It was quite a view,” he teases lightly as he sits beside you.
You know what he really meant, and you give him a shy half-smile before replying, “It sure is beautiful out here!” You gesture around at the venue, which is gorgeous — a beautiful private property with loads of land, and a gazebo on the banks of a large pond, where the ceremony took place.
Soonyoung scoffs. “Well, yeah, but you seem determined to miss my point.” Nonchalantly, he slips a hand onto your knee, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “I’m flirting with you.”
“Oh, are you?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.” But in reality, it’s impossible to stop yourself from beaming.
“Well, we are married,” Soonyoung says, his hand sliding across your knee to find your hand. He tangles his fingers with yours. “I think it comes with the territory.”
“If you say that too loud, you’re going to make people think it’s true,” you joke.
“Let them think that,” he says, his eyes trained on you in a way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. You squeeze his hand and look away, slightly panicked.
Your eyes land below the table. “I like your shoes,” you blurt.
Soonyoung looks down at his plain black loafers. “These are like, my least interesting pair of shoes,” he points out with a sly grin.
“Well, you’re an interesting man,” you say, trying to recover but feeling flustered all the same. “What are your most interesting pair of shoes?”
“I’ll give you one guess.”
“The only thing I can count on is that they’re tiger-related,” you reply, grateful for this subject shift.
Soonyoung nods. “Calvin and Hobbes Air Force Ones,” he confirms proudly. “I should’ve worn them.”
“You would have made the bride angry.”
“That makes me want to wear them even more,” Soonyoung grumbles.
“What’s your beef with my friends?” you ask him lightly, absently trailing one of your hands over his arm.
He leans in to almost-whisper the answer. “They left you vulnerable when they should have been taking care of you, and that bothers me.”
You’re taken aback by how serious the usually silly Soonyoung sounds, but before you have a chance to respond, the music starts, heralding the arrival of the new Mr. And Mrs. You take the moment of cheering and applause to breathe deeply and steady your trembling hands. This is Soonyoung, you remind yourself. You don’t need to be nervous around him.
You’ve sufficiently pulled yourself together by the time you have Soonyoung’s attention again. “So, what will you do after the wedding is over?” you ask him, trying to keep the new, flirty side of him locked away.
“That’s an amazing question that I actually was going to ask you. Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.
“Well, my place is empty tonight, so that sounds kind of fun,” you admit, not sure you fully succeeded at not flirting.
“Perfect,” he says. “So, what are you in the mood for? Action? Horror? Romcom?”
“How about…a wholesome sports movie? Those are my favorite genre of movies.”
“Really?” he asks with interest. “This surprises me about you.”
The conversation settles into its normal easy rhythm — all through dinner, you talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. When the dancing starts, you allow Soonyoung to pull you into his arms on the dance floor, following his lead in a smooth trot-step. “You’re a good dancer,” you observe.
“I teach kid’s dance classes on the side,” he admits. “It’s my night job.”
“Ah, and here I was, thinking you probably did pole-dancing after hours,” you tease.
“I know you’re not serious, but I am actually extremely flattered you’d assume that,” Soonyoung says. “Pole dancers are strong.”
“So are you,” you point out.
“How do you know?” he asks.
You swallow hard. “Uh, you — your arms,” you stutter. “They're…really nice.”
Soonyoung (unconsciously?) flexes his bicep under your hand, and your knees nearly buckle. It’s almost pathetic how affected you are by him, especially given that he hasn’t even made a move yet, and you cringe inwardly at yourself.
“Are you okay? You look uncomfortable,” Soonyoung asks.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine?” you reassure, but in the least convincing voice ever.
“Do you need some water?” he asks, concerned.
“Yes, that’d be amazing,” you say, shooing him away and fanning at yourself, your mind full of useless chiding for being so embarrassingly whipped.
A tap on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts. “Hi,” says a familiar voice — and your stomach drops.
It’s your ex boyfriend, the one you’d asked your friend not to invite but to no avail. “Hi,” you say shortly.
“You look great,” he says, to no reply from you. “The color suits you.”
“Is there something you want?” you ask him, trying to make it clear you don’t want to talk with him about anything.
“Just trying to catch up on what’s happened since, well, you know—“
“Since I caught you cheating?” you finish. “Yeah, life’s been really great since then. Thanks for the trust issues.”
He gives a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, like he’s a call center employee placating an angry customer. “I got promoted at work.”
You could punch him. You would, if you weren’t at a wedding. Luckily all murderous intent is redirected by a very timely Soonyoung, who arrives on the scene with a confident, “hey, baby!” and a hand outstretched with a glass of water.
“Oh, you came with someone?” your ex says. He sizes up Soonyoung, who is easily bigger than him, and shrugs. “Bad luck. Maybe next time.”
“I was this close to ruining this wedding,” you confess as Soonyoung wraps a protective arm around your waist, watching your ex saunter away. “He started talking about his promotion.”
“Didn’t he cheat on you?” Soonyoung asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.
“Yeah,” you confirm, scowling.
“Well, drink your water, and then we can dance again. You’ll forget all about him.”
This turns out to be true. Dancing with Soonyoung is so much fun -- he seems unusually good at it, and leads you very well, but also doesn’t take things too seriously, letting you spin him or even pretending to do a dip in which he almost falls over. The whole thing is just so ridiculous that you find yourself giggling through it, needing to pause and take a break. Soonyoung suggests that the two of you take a walk down to the lake, and you readily agree.
He holds your hand during the walk, and you can feel yourself trying to explain away his behavior -- he’s probably just trying to scare off your ex, or any of the other bridesmaids who’ve been making eyes at him all evening (which you’ve been pretending not to notice or care, but which you most definitely have noticed and are not happy about). Or maybe he just wants some affection. Or maybe it’s something else. It certainly can’t be the simplest explanation -- that Soonyoung likes you in the same way you like him.
The banks of the water are muddy and slick, and you and Soonyoung have to cling to each other for balance, but you’re still giggling like children as you kick off your shoes and let your toes sink into the murky shallows of the pond. “It’s freezing,” you say, hopping out almost immediately and colliding with Soonyoung, who automatically throws his arms out to steady you. Your laughter fades as you look into his eyes, which are wide and uncharacteristically shy and nervous. He swallows. Hard.
“Uh....” he says, stammering. “You’re -- you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you say in a tense whisper.
“I think I -- I think I like you,” Soonyoung whispers back.
“You think?” you ask, smiling a little.
“No, that was ridiculous,” he corrects. “Uh, I like you. For suresies. For realsies.”
“For suresies and for realsies?” you say with wide eyes, and he cringes.
“Throw me a bone, please,” he whines. “I’m nervous.”
And he is. You can tell that this normally confident boy is all but in pieces after making his confession. So you untangle yourself from Soonyoung’s grasp and turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking at him. “So am I,” you admit.
And at this, Soonyoung beams. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that a smile that lights up a room was a bit of metaphorical nonsense that didn’t truly apply to anyone, but seeing this now, you figure that was an understatement in Soonyoung’s case. This kind of smile from him was enough to support intelligent light on several planets. And you? Just like a moon, you know you’ll be rotating around him your whole life, just reflecting that light. It is impossible to fully describe the way it warms you from the inside out.
You’re so distracted by Soonyoung himself that you don’t notice how he’s leaned in close until his lips brush yours. And, in fact, this move surprises you so much that you jump, startled, which sends you sliding into the mud, dirtying up your pale pink dress and causing an angry honk to emanate from the reeds where you land. Before you know it, a goose is hissing in your ear, and you shriek with terror as you scramble to your feet, running with all your might from the furious bird, who emerges from its marshy home to chase you up the hill toward the wedding party.
You never thought you’d need to answer the question, “Could I beat a goose in a fight?” And now, here you are, with a very clear answer indeed: absolutely not. The goose is fast, using a combination of an aggressive waddle, short bursts of low flight, and what is more than likely a higher-than-average dose of unfettered bloodlust to stay right on your heels all the way onto the dance floor, where wedding guests dive out of the way in cartoonish confusion. You don’t have time to think about how ridiculous you must look, covered in mud, running from a murderous goose, before Soonyoung firmly plants himself in front of the rampaging animal.
And inexplicably, it stops, looking up at Soonyoung with its unsettlingly blue eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips and glares down at the goose. “You interrupted what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for me,” he scolds. “Now shoo!”
And you watch, dumbfounded, as the goose gives a plaintive squawk before toddling back to its pond. “How did you do that?” you gasp.
It is only then that you realize the entire wedding is staring at you. And for good reason -- the bride and groom are about to cut the cake. The terror of being chased by Satan’s personal fowl pales in comparison to the sight of the bride. Her eyes are even more murderous than the bird’s had been -- and she’s holding a cake knife to boot.
So, before any other awful things can happen, you grab Soonyoung’s hand and run. Out of the wedding area, off the farm, onto the dirt road where you parked your car, realizing too late you left your shoes by the pond and not daring to face the wedding party or the goose to retrieve them. By the time you arrive at your car, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Soonyoung, though bewildered, joins in, and the two of you double over, struggling to breathe with the absurdity of it all.
When you’ve both been reduced to gasps for air, Soonyoung turns to you, leaning back against your passenger side door for support. “Is every day of your life like this?” he asks through deep breaths.
“Why?” you ask, your face falling. “Are you getting tired of rescuing me?”
He chuckles. Unexpectedly, he pulls you toward him by the waist, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Not at all,” he says, pulling a stray clump of weeds from your hair. “I’d rescue you every day if you asked. I just need to know how much prep work I need to be doing. I mean, do I need to start a new workout routine? Do I need to learn karate geared toward beating up ducks?”
“That was a goose,” you correct. Then you register what he said. “You’d rescue me every day?”
He suddenly looks nervous again. “If you want,” he offers, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.
But your answering smile is enough to tell him that’s exactly what you want. With a mite more confidence, he grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb and pulls your lips to his.
This kiss is much more substantial than the last. Soonyoung’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on the small of your back, locking you into his grasp and making it difficult for you to pull away -- as if you would, because his kisses are sweeter than summer strawberries. As the warm winds begin to pick up speed, as your hair whips around you and your muddy dress is blown every which way, your heart seems to crystalize into calmness. Kissing Soonyoung feels like putting the last piece into a puzzle, like coming inside from a cold rain to a warm fire, like watching bees flit from flower to flower in a late spring sunset. It feels perfect. It feels right.
You could go on kissing Soonyoung forever, until the two of you became statues locked in an embrace, but eventually you do pull away. Soonyoung laughs at the deep, shaky breath you take, and so do you, bringing a hand to touch his pink cheek in wonder. “You’re so beautiful,” you tell him.
“Not as much as you,” he replies warmly.
Then a thought strikes you. “Also, when were you going to tell me you have mind control over geese?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t mind control. It was the eye of the tiger.” He brings his hand up in an imitation of a paw print, and you narrow your eyes at him.
“Okay. If you’re a Disney Princess, you can just say that.”
“Okay. I’m a Disney Princess,” Soonyoung agrees. “Does that make you happy?”
“Only if I get to be the Disney Prince,” you mumble, nestling into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder.
“Deal,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice as he does.
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⦑ a night away ⦒✶.*
prequel to a kiss away, and how it all happened.
requsted by anonymous (ask at the end)
pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn!reader | friends to lovers
synopsis: heartbroken, you find yourself back at the bar, unsure if love is meant for you. leon wants you, so badly, but he restrains himself (unsuccessfully) thinking someone else is better suited for you, someone that is not him.
content: suggestive imagery, one kiss, one excited leon, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, addiction, oral (m! receiving), death
special thanks to @sporeghost, for the beta, for being a sweetheart of a friend, and for his drop dead gorgeous writing.
« 2.1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »
Loving is easy. To be loved is difficult.
It’s easy to love perfection after all. You might not be perfect, like no one is, but you’re damn close to it. But Leon? He thinks his soul is fractured – by the blood in his hands, by the poison he consumes, eternally cursed by the perpetual guilt of living.
Your smile is crooked – full-teeth, gum-showing. Yet you smile like the sun after a weeping rain, a smile that outshines the worst every single time. Your steps summon life underneath you, summon life within him. You are blinding, bestowing your shine to all, up and high, beyond reach.
If he tells you his feelings, will you find happiness with him?
Or will you follow him into the dark, and never see the light again?
You look best in the sunlight. Not six feet under, decaying in his own pain and darkness. Peeping at your glow is more than enough for Leon. He isn’t worried about heartbreak at all, because heartbreak with you is healing. That’s the kind of effect you have.
So you can imagine his worry when he hears your voice slurring through the phone, almost inaudible against the bass-heavy party music in the background. Leon doesn’t know where you are, or what you are doing, but he wants you safe. Needs it.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to find you at a bar three blocks away from your apartment. You don’t normally go to bars, that he knows and appreciates. He’s well acquainted with the aftereffects of alcohol.
Leon evades the crowd, manoeuvring through the waves of hazy drunks, cigarettes in one hand, clinking glasses in another. They don’t know how intoxicating it all smells, how deep one can possibly fall into the bottomless pit of a martini glass. Perhaps they know. Or don’t care. After all, they came to escape too, just like you.
He finds your lone silhouette slouch into the bar table, a full glass and empty bottle next to you. Leon didn’t recognise you at first.
“Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this.” Leon picks a bar stool closest to you and takes a seat.
“Leon…?” Your eyelids weigh you down. “H-How did you...”
You don’t look at him, instead readjusting yourself just slightly to bury your face in your palms. Guilty, and you know it.
“Don’t talk.”
Leon rests his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature burn lightly against his hand. While he has you there, he signals the bartender for a glass of water. You remind him of himself two years ago, deep into a bottle before midday.
You try to reach for your drink, but Leon moves the glass away. Replacing it with the iced water served to you. “Drink this.”
Leon watches you take in a big gulp. Your eyes blink open aggressively, regaining a bit of conscious since Leon arrived.
“Better?”
“Better.” You heartbeat slows by a fraction, voice clearer now, but your surroundings are still spinning. Leon waits for you to finish your next swig before talking.
“What happened?” Leon offers you his kindness, lacing with an undertone of concern. You plant your face into your drink. “You can tell me.”
“H-He…” Your tears well up, and his heart breaks at the sight. “He b-broke up with me, Leon. Over text too. I tried calling him, but I keep reaching voicemail. Did the four months meant nothing to him?”
That sucker you met on a dating app. Leon can’t recall his name, that’s how much he hates the guy. Promising you the world, delivering all but crap.
A man who hurts you like this isn’t a man. Just a child. It’s been three times since he watches your heart broken with fake proclamations of love by one of these men. Leon knows he can kiss you better, love you better, make love to you better than any other man on this world. Anything you want, he can do it better. Except that he can’t.
You are the light he doesn’t deserve, the light he depends on.
“Fuck ‘em. He doesn’t deserve you.”
You shook your head. “Nobody loves me, Leon. Nobody wants me. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted over a year.”
“That’s not true.” Because I want you. More than you’ll ever know, more than you’ll ever need. I want you like a plant wants light. Hell, I need you like a plant needs water. “All of D.S.O loves you.”
You sigh deeply. He knows the fact that’s not what you meant, but some secrets are not meant to see the light of day.
“I need a drink.”
“No. You don’t.” Leon cuts you off, pouring out the poison into the sink by the bar. “Drinking won’t solve anything. You should know this.”
The music in the background crudely echoes, much harsher and obstructive this time. The people around you are chatting, cheering, dancing – but there is only two of you in the room. At least that's how it feels like. Leon watches your hand twitch on the glass, eyes avert with guilt. You know he is still marking the days, thirty-seven weeks of sobriety. You know he is right.
“You shouldn’t be here.” It’s your turn to move his hands away from the glass.
“I’m here to take you home. Don’t worry, I’m not going to relapse anytime soon.” Leon puts a hand over yours. An act of comfort, consolation.
“Go wash your face.” You obey, and it helps just a little. By the time you’re ready to leave, Leon is waiting for you with your bag in his hands. “Come on, let’s go.”
“What about the tab?”
“It’s all sorted.” It’s the least he can do for you.
The summer nights should have been cool, but as if to compensate for the heat of the day, the wind taunts harsher. The gust prickle your bare skin that wears only a T-shirt and jeans. Your balance tips ever so slightly.
Leon leans to you right before you slip, hands gently grasping your shoulders. You catch your feet, fistful of his jacket for support. The smell of your fresh cherry blossom shampoo melt into his senses.
He pulls you aside around the corner of the building – you are too unbalanced for the nighttime crowd, almost tripping three people in your fall.
“Lean back.” Leon peels you off his chest, almost reluctantly. You feel so good in his arms. “Take five.”
Beyond the neon skyscrapers, fogged starless sky, you share the moon together. You vision rotates and coils around the glowing sphere, but next to Leon, you feel safe, relieved, despite everything that happened today. You, who witness your third relationship fall apart. Him, who witness your light slowly fading away.
“Leon…” Your words are slurring again.
“He’s such an ass.” You didn’t let Leon respond, and he didn’t try. Leon knows you just need to vent right now. “Every time I’m at work, he says I work too much. Then he says I’m too controlling when I’m home.”
“I hear you.” Leon nods, watching at how your face twist and turn when you talk about this jerk who doesn’t deserve you.
“He’s always out with his friends. When I do the same, it’s a bad thing. I never complain about anything, ever. What gives?”
Leon listens, nodding responsively.
“You know what’s worse? He told me I give bad head.”
Leon freezes, blood that ran along his nerves surge between his legs. It wasn’t weird for you to share details about your relationships. It prides Leon that you entrust him with such information.
But for you to be this forward about your intimate activities? That’s a first, probably conspired by the alcohol in your system. Leon can only wish that the alcohol in you isn’t going to catch him adjust both of his pant legs, hiding the strain between his pants.
“Well, are you?” Leon teases, feigning nonchalance.
“It’s not my fault I have a small mouth.”
His gaze passes your lips, open and close as you speak, tongue peeking underneath all that plumpness. He shouldn’t. Definitely shouldn’t be imagining your lips grazing against him right now. Or how your mouth will look around his cock, your tongue swirling against his length…
Leon clears his throat once more. You unintentionally cut off his imagination before it can go rampant.
“You know… I’ve realised you never talk about your relationships.”
You raise your hand to scratch your chin, recalling if there is anyone that makes him double take. But Leon Kennedy never double takes. There’s not a moment where he’s breaking his stoic, cool-guy demeanour. Not even at Jill, which you would drool over at.
“Not much to tell.” Not much he can tell you.
“C’mon, we’ve been through too much for you to act coy now.” You nudge him on the shoulder. “Guy like you? You must have someone.”
“Not sure what you mean.” Leon can feel you snuggle in closer, almost brushing against his strained jeans at your lower abdomen. He strategically smooths slightly away from you, desperate to suppress himself.
“I mean… You have a really nice jaw. And a nice body.” You gaze at him up and down, eyebrow raising, tongue peeking and rolling over your teeth.
“You think I’m handsome?” Leon offers you his crooked grin. “That’s quite bold of you.”
His cerulean eyes lit up, for a sparkle, staring intensely into yours. Your throat clears itself, unaware of the warmth sinking into your cheeks. Leon wonders if you know how cute you look right now.
“I-I’m just saying what others think.” You shuffle away from the wall, moving in sync with your feet towards the well-lit street. “Let’s get going I’m feeling much bett-”
“Not so fast.” Leon holds you in place. Your body turns against your own will, finding your back curving into the wall.
“Leon…?” You ask, barely above a whisper.
Look at you. So sweet, doe-eyed as you walk right into the lion’s den. The sensitive part of your neck partially exposed just to entice him. Thinking everyone is made of good intentions, that they just want to be your friend, and that no harm will ever become of you. That’s just in your nature.
It’s also in people’s nature to take advantage of someone like you. Even when your wrists locked against his, body trapping you, you still trust him. He’s internally conflicted – conflicted whether if he wants to pounce at you or protect you. Both, in that order.
Leon brings his lips closer to yours ever so slowly. So softly, leaving you plenty of space to withdraw, to stop. Begging you to stop him from ruining something so perfect between the two of you.
Waiting… Waiting for any sign of uncertainty, any lace of hesitation, any reason to push you away and laugh it off. But you don’t. You don’t flinch, in fact you close the distance more.
He tilts his head down, and your head up. Leon moves his hands, feeling a bit bolder too, wrapping them around your back. Reciprocating all the same, your irises capture the moonlight in your eyes, glowing in the dark. Leon can’t keep fooling himself anymore about how you want this. You want this too.
He closes his eyes. Lets your raspy breath guide him to your lips until they brush lightly against yours. Magnitude of emotions riled up within him, pouring into an endless stream of longing finally fulfilled.
“I, uh…” Leon silences your thoughts in place of another heated kiss. Taste of your tongue lingers with the filth of alcohol, Leon wants nothing more than rid the taste of it from your mouth. His body flushing against yours, burning, drowning, into all of you. Into all of the love you grace him. Platonic, romantic – none of it matters. He just needs you.
The parting of lips is almost melancholic, a separation of two souls connected by this ephemeral moment. You are losing balance, eyelids closing, consciousness fading into a light snore.
“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” Leon lets out a tiny grin when you lean your body weight on his torso, which is cue to take you home.
Under his care, Leon helps you into your apartment. Doesn’t leave you like that – no, that would be too cruel. He helps you remove your jacket and shoes, carrying your slumbering body to the bed. Tucking you in. And a cheeky kiss too, while you’re unconscious.
Maybe you’ll remember what happened, maybe you won’t. Leon knows that he will cherishing this memory for a very long time.
thank you sm my sweetest for the ask!! i hope you enjoy this fic even after i took some liberties (hehehhee). i absolutely, absolutely LOVE writing for friends to lovers, and something ab first kiss with all that yearning makes me swoooonn harder than smut haha
also, thank you all who liked, commented, reblogged so graciously on 'a kiss away' (the sequel), it has 950 notes now?? sometimes i still go huh, how did that happen?? rlly can't do it without with you guys, from the bottom of my heart thank you smsm
thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.
tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost @navstuffs (pm me for tags)
© roseglazedlens - please do not translate, copy, repost or feed to ai without permission - thanks!
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