Leander, the charming ringleader of the Bloodhounds, stood on the bar of The Wet Wick, his tall and muscular figure illuminated by the dim lights. His woody brown hair, slightly covering his left eye, swayed as he laughed heartily, engaging with the patrons with his characteristic charisma.

You, a regular at the pub, watched him from afar. There was something about Leander that drew you in, perhaps it was the way his grey-green eyes sparkled when he talked about his passion for helping those in need. Despite your feelings, Leander seemed blissfully unaware, always treating you with the same friendly affection he showed everyone.

Tonight, though, something was different. Maybe it was the way the alcohol coursed through your veins, or the way his laughter seemed to resonate just for you. Whatever it was, it gave you the courage to do what you had never dared to before. As he continued his antics on the bar, you made your way through the crowd, your determination growing with each step.

Leander, noticing your approach, flashed you one of his heartwarming smiles. "Ah, my favorite patron!" he exclaimed, his voice always seeming to soothe you. But before he could continue, you reached up, grabbing his arm, and with a surprising burst of strength, you pulled him down from the bar.

The look of surprise on Leander's face was priceless, his eyes widening as he stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. You didn't give him a chance to react further. Closing the distance between you, you pressed your lips against his in a kiss that held all the unspoken words and emotions you had been harboring.

The kiss was brief, but in those few seconds, a myriad of feelings passed between you two – surprise, confusion, but above all, a spark of love that Leander had been too oblivious to see until now. As you pulled away from the kiss, ready to make your slightly unsteady escape, he gently grasped your arm. "Wait," Leander's voice was a tender rumble. "I... I had no idea," he admitted, his cheeks reddening.