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hazbinhotei · 17 days ago

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drunken kisses.

read part two here

warnings: alcohol, detailed makeout session, alastor being a little (drunken) shit

word count: 1753

summary: What started as a harmless drinking challenge between you and Alastor quickly spirals into something far more scandalous—to the horrified dismay of the entire hotel staff.

alastor x gn!reader. thank you to the anon who requested this story! testing out how to write lukewarm spicy scenes because i currently lack the expertise to write anything steamier than fluff.

Laughter and music crackled through the lobby, the air thick with a cocktail of cigarette smoke, booze, and the lingering scent of whatever cake Niffty had insisted on making. It was a birthday celebration for… someone in the hotel. You honestly weren’t sure anymore.

The evening had started innocently enough—drinks poured, toasts made, laughter spilling as freely as the alcohol. You were all huddled around the bar, Angel Dust telling a story of some bitchy pornstar he had met the other day as Husk poured drinks for everyone.

You were in the middle of a sip when you felt a presence behind you, your neck twisting to find Alastor looming over you. He had reached over your shoulder to grab his glass from the counter, but as you leaned back to give him more space, his eyes locked onto yours. And suddenly, a second after analyzing your face and the drink in your own hand, he got that look. That sharp, devious look in his eyes, the kind that meant trouble. You remember the alarms in your head going off at the way his sharp yellow teeth glinted behind his wide—almost predatory—smile.

"Care for a friendly wager, dear?" Alastor had purred, twirling a glass of dark liquor between his fingers, the rich scent of whiskey wafting between you. "A little game to see who can hold their spirits better?"

And like an absolute idiot, you had agreed. You somehow even believed you'd come out of this little challenge unscathed, with the naive thought that you would win floating in the back of your mind. You never had been a lightweight before, why, you were certain you could hold some ground against this old geezer of a Sinner.

The first few rounds were smooth, easy even. You matched him drink for drink, keeping pace as he downed every glass with a flourish and a wicked grin. But the more you drank, the more absurd the challenge became.

(Why had you agreed to this again?)

Alastor remained eerily composed at first, his usual energetic sharpness undeterred by the steadily increasing volume of alcohol. But by the fifth—or was it the sixth?—round, his laughter started to turn loose, his grin wider, his movements just a little less controlled. And you? Oh, you were doomed.

(Doomed in all sense of the word. Despite your hazy vision, the way Alastor seemed to unwind with each drink made your knees weak. His perfect posture had slackened just a fraction, the mischief in his smirk that was usually coupled with the overwhelming sense of terror was now instead radiating with unbridled happiness. And his eyes—oh, those crimson eyes, half-lidded, foggy with amusement yet still glowing with a wild kind of energy—lingered on you in a way that made the heat in your chest rival the burn of whiskey in your throat.

You knew your returning gazes were embarrassingly eager, your sober thoughts of him being oddly attractive and charismatic amplified tenfold by the alcohol also coursing through your system. You wondered if he could hear your breath hitch every time he licked his lips?)

After he refilled your almost empty glass with a twirl of his fingers for the seventh time that night, everything blurred after that. Just the warm buzz of liquor in your veins, the sound of his laughter tangling with yours, and the absolute certainty that one of you was going to collapse.

And now?

You were both absolutely wasted.

Sitting side by side on the couch, the world swayed around you like a funhouse mirror, and even though you were clearly not the winner here, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your head was heavy, your limbs loose, and Alastor—normally so composed, so rigidly in control—was laughing. Like, actually giggling in that half-maniacal, half-melodic way of his, eyes unfocused but still bright.

“Ah-ha! My, my, you’re lookin’ awfully dazed there, cher,” he teased, tilting his head as he swayed ever so slightly. Your stomach churned at the way the whiskey made his Southern drawl slip through his usual Transatlantic accent. “Are you sure you can still stomach the competition?”

You sluggishly turned to face him, blinking slowly. Despite your breathy voice and flushed cheeks, you frowned at him in faux annoyance. "You're practically as drunk as me, asshole."

Your deadpan tone seemed to be the funniest thing Alastor had heard that night, resulting in him howling at your words. You almost jumped at the sudden sound of it, watching as he flew his head back and sank deeper into the couch. "Always such a spriteful one! I have to admit, dear—you're such enchanting company."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his drunken amusement. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking, you smug bastard."

Alastor chuckled, swirling the last remnants of his drink in his glass before fixing you with a look that sent something dangerous through your already alcohol-flooded veins. "Oh, but I do enjoy our little conversations, darling. Such wit, such fire—it's rather... intoxicating."

His expression was smug, spiked fangs peeking boyishly from his grin, and suddenly you felt acutely aware of the situation you were in. You blinked at him, your mind blank as you realized how close you two were—even though the couch was big enough to fit 5 demons, somehow you and Alastor were still mere inches apart, so close your knees were touching. Your head spun with the scent of whiskey and him; a scent that suspiciously smelled of tall cedar trees, fresh blood, and the dirt from a graveyard. You don’t know what possessed you—maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was your itch to wipe that damn smirk off his face, maybe it was the way his voice slurred just so, but suddenly you weren’t thinking.

You were acting.

Your hands found the lapels of his blazer, gripping the fabric as you leaned in and—

Your lips were on his.

Time stopped.

You barely registered the sudden quietness from the usual white noise that surrounded Alastor the second your lips met his. It was awfully silent, save for the distant laughter from the rest of the hotel group still at the bar, your eyes closed as you gently locked your lips onto his.

It took approximately three seconds for your brain to catch up with your body, and by the time it did, you were already feeling the heat of his breath against your face. Shit. Your eyes opened as you hastily pulled back, what the hell did you just—

But before you could spiral into a pit of embarrassment, a clawed hand shot out, grasping your waist.

“Now where do you think you’re going, darling?”

Your stomach flipped.

Because Alastor? He wasn’t pushing you away. No—he was pulling you closer.

And then? Oh, then he kissed you back.

It was clumsy at first, your lips quirking into an affectionate smile at the way he was clearly inexperienced in kissing, like he was trying to puzzle the act out as he went. But after a moment passed, something in him shifted. His hands gripped your waist harder, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes, and suddenly, the kiss was anything but hesitant.

Your cheeks burned, your breath came short, and whatever restraint had existed between the two of you melted away entirely. His lips moved against yours with an eager curiosity, slow at first, but as he grew bolder, so did you. His sharp teeth nipped teasingly at your bottom lip, a low hum vibrating in his throat as you gasped against his mouth. The warm, rich taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue as it slid against yours, coaxing a sound from you that should not have been heard in a public setting. His body was warm beneath you, his blazer bunched under your fingers as you clung to him, entirely lost in the moment.

You felt his grip tighten, easily lifting you from your spot on the couch onto his lap with a surprising gentleness you did not expect from the Radio Demon himself. You were in his lap, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands—oh, his hands—gripped you like he needed you there, his claws curling into the small of your back. It was intoxicating, dizzying. You barely registered the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours, his laughter—low, husky—spilling into your mouth like it was his own personal victory.

Oh my God. You were making out with Alastor in the middle of the damn lobby.

And that's when you heard it.

The collective gasp of an entire audience.

“What the fuck–?!”

You didn’t even get a chance to process who screamed first because suddenly, you were being yanked away from Alastor so fast you swore you left part of your soul behind. Husk had grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you off like a misbehaving cat, while Charlie and Angel Dust stood frozen in sheer horror.

“We left you alone for two freaking minutes!” Charlie shrieked, hands flying to her mouth.

“Oh my God, were you two aboutta fuck on the COUCH?!” Angel cackled, slapping his knee.

Charlie only gasped further, her voice shrill. “In the middle of the party?!”

Vaggie rubbed the shoulders of her horrified girlfriend, clearly repulsed by Angel’s words as her face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew, Angel.”

Alastor, still lounging on the couch, just laughed.

“I fail to see the problem!” he chimed, looking far too pleased with himself, eyes locked onto you even as you were forcibly dragged away like a crime scene witness. His smile was wolfish, his pupils dilated with mischief (and maybe a little more).

You, meanwhile, were fighting for your life.

“I– I– It wasn’t– We weren't–!”

Husk scoffed, dropping you on the couch opposite to Alastor and shoving a glass of water into your hands. “Jesus, kid, sober up before you start dry humping demons in the damn lobby.”

You groaned, burying your face onto the top of the glass, the cup strikingly cold against your feverish skin. You cursed under your breath as the others erupted into chaos, Angel laughing so hard he had to cling to Charlie for support as everyone stood between the two couches like a barricade, ensuring you wouldn't end up in the same situation from mere minutes ago.

And Alastor?

That bastard just winked at you, his smile lopsided as he drank in your horrified expression.

…Yeah, you were never living this down.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x reader #oneshot #thanks anon!#request

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midnite-c6 · 2 months ago

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more pink guard!namgyu and thanos au thoughts :P

pink guard!namgyu and thanos who brings timid!reader back into the games after mingle happened, the survived players see you sitting on your bed with eating food that’s completely different to what they have to eat.

pink guard!namgyu and thanos that actually brought your bed closer to the door so all they can keep a better eye on you…

hehe YAY this request rlly made my mindblow cuz like WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF THAT KIND OF AU, SO COOL ANON!!

pink guard!thanos & pink guard!namgyu x virgin!reader imagine pt. 2💘

warnings: 18+, dark content, dubcon, gunplay (read at ur own risk!!)

after the last game, that you skipped (because of your two new friends!), they already sent you back to the original dorms of the players. you'd walk back inside, slightly limping as your legs shake... the other players couldn't care less though, infact, they're pretty bummed you're still alive, just means less money.

the two guards really found a favourite amongst the 456 players! they'd assign you a better place to sleep, they'd also give you much more delicious food, and whenever other players try to bother you about it, it's okay! they'll just unfairly kill them in the next round <3. despite being ranked as triangle guards, they're hella irresponsible, but atleast they found their purpose in these games, and that's... you! ❤️‍🩹

just right after lunch, after eating the delicious food they especially made for you, you've been escorted to go to another unfamiliar room, something kind of like a basement..

they'd already take off their masks, the purple-haired one starts to already show his excitement, the black-haired one was arranging the place, trying to make it more cozy despite how it's very far from that. "baby!! i missed you, nam-gyu made that special steak lunch just for you, did you like it, babe?" he'd look at you with puppy eyes, eyes that a lover would make, "uhm.. it was really good! but the players were really angry at me..." he pouted in response. "what?!" "they said it was really unfair. i'm the only who got to eat that type of meal.." his brows furrow, clearly annoyed. "buncha' whining bitches, can't they expect a princess like you deserves to eat deliciously?" "uhm.." these guards were surely good with their words..

"well, don't think about them anymore, baby. we'll make you forget." he shushes you up with his gloved finger, before smacking his lips against yours. fine, he was a good kisser, you admit.

nsfw below!!-> 🫶🏻

honestly, they were taking their time with you, taking turns to sloppily kiss you in the lips whilst grinding their suits against your core and fingering you without any release. it was a hassel to take the pink suit off, clearly. "dude, i've cooked her the steak, i should get to fuck her first!" "uhm.. who said that? i was the one who thought of it." you'd watch both of them argue over you as you lean back against the wall, your clothes stripped infront of you. your body was shivering from the cold un-tiled floor. "you tryna' piss me off, bro?" "nah nah, let's play fair then. rock paper scissors?" nam-gyu groaned, but he'd extend his hand to play a game, best to three. after a few rounds, the black-haired one was the winner, he'd cheer. "yes!! knew the world was fair. sucks to suck, bro." "whadda' fuck! you got to eat her out last timeeee..!" the purple-haired one complained. "just your fault you didn't." he smiled proudly as he started to unbuckle his pants, walking over to you. the other guard went to focus on getting a cross necklace underneath his shirt, popping a pill in his mouth.

you'd look up at the guard closer to you, quite worried in your eyes. "what? don't want to?" nam-gyu raises a brow. you don't answer, but you were definitely hesitant. "i've never.. uhm.. with an actual..." he immediately bursted into laughter. "seriously? you're a virgin? no wonder you were so tight. couldn't even stretch you with my fingers n' all." you lower your gaze to the floor, his eyes were judging you from above.. "a face of a slut, yet an attitude like an angel, i like that." he'd put on his pants again, though he was dissapointed. "don't worry.. i'll prepare you," you wonder if he'd just finger you again, but... he'd slowly take the gun from his pocket, lowering himself to place the barrel of the gun on your clit. you'd jolt from the hard texture, or how it was a literal gun against your cunt. "if ya' can handle this, you can handle me, okay?"

you'd whimper, how were you supposed to fit that? "u-uhm.." "don't be nervous.. hey dude, hold her down will you?" he'd call out for the other guard that was getting high. "why should i? i'm still salty." "i'm not gonna fuck her, she's still a virgin." the purple-haired guard immediately went to the both of you "we're the first ones to touch you?!", he places his body underneath yours so you were sitting on his lap. he'd place his hands underneath your thighs to carefully spread your legs open. "it's such an honor, cutie." the guard infront of you starts rubbing the front of the barrel against your clit repeatedly, the sensation was so weird!! but it was a good kind of weird... and to they're pleasure, you'd start letting out sweet moans, as the gun was being pressed against your sensitive bud, nam-gyu's other hand would spread your cunny open, "fuck, so wet, you'd take in this gun easily." he slowly moved the gun away from your clit... lowering it.. til' it was just right against your hole. "s-slowly- please.." nam-gyu tilts his head. "slowly?" before immediately pushing the barrel fully inside you. you'd let out a loud, shameless moan from how it slid in, or how it was quite longer than you were used to. "h-hey!?" "sorry, i'm a bit impatient." he grinned, sliding the gun in and out, a ruthless pace, even faster than how he was fingering you before.

& with the pace and all that pleasure... you get to release another high from that new experience, getting fucked by a gun, the guard underneath you was uncontrollablly smiling. "can't take it, babe? here..." he'd offer you a pill. "the next games a bit tricky, so you'd need some energy.."

"but if you're too scared to play don't worry, 'kay? just go to the bathroom during lights out and you can repay us while you're there!" every thing comes with a price, except, gladly you're the one cumming. 💘

#squid game #player 124 #squid game 2 #nam-gyu #squid game x reader #squid game smut #squid game season 2 #namgyu #thanos #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #thanos smut #nam-gyu smut

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rmadridcore · 4 months ago

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Through the Jazz

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: A charming and mysterious encounter at a jazz club leaves Jude captivated by someone who doesn’t recognize him, sparking his excitement for what’s next.

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s note: Thank you anon for this request, it was so fun writing it, hope you enjoy! 🤍🤍🤍

“God, this lighting makes me want to rethink every selfie I’ve ever posted,” your friend joked, leaning over the table to adjust her hair, her face glowing faintly under the warm red lights of the jazz club.

You chuckled, taking in the ambiance. The room felt like it belonged to another time — dim crimson lighting casting a sultry glow, the hum of a live jazz band serenading the crowd with soulful melodies, and the murmur of quiet conversations blending with the occasional clink of glasses. People swayed in their seats or danced with languid grace, lost in the music and each other.

This was your ideal night out, no thumping bass, no deafening music that made conversations impossible, no rowdy strangers trying too hard to impress. Just you, your girls, a round of delicious cocktails, and a playlist that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Across the room, seated at a table with a few of his friends, Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He’d come here seeking the same thing as you, a relaxed evening to unwind after a taxing week. This jazz club was one of his sanctuaries, a place where the world’s noise dimmed and the rhythm of the music matched the beat of his heart. Most nights, he came for the music, a drink or two, and easy conversations with his friends.

But tonight was different.

The moment he spotted you, every reason he’d had for coming here evaporated. The music became a soft blur in the background, the drink in his hand forgotten. His friends’ voices barely registered as his focus locked onto you.

You, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware of the attention.

Jude wasn’t used to this. Normally, his natural charm and status worked without much effort. A glance, a few clever lines, and he could start a conversation with ease. But tonight, he found himself overthinking every move. Something about you demanded more than the usual routine — more finesse, more thought.

At first, he assumed you’d noticed him and were playing coy, but after a few more minutes of watching you sip your cocktail, laugh at your friend’s jokes, and sway your leg subtly to the music, it became clear. You hadn’t even seen him.

And Jude liked that.

“She hasn’t noticed you yet?” one of his friends teased, nudging him.

“No,” Jude muttered, his eyes still on you.

“Why don’t you just walk over there and buy her a drink? Easy.”

“I can’t just interrupt her,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. He sounded calm, but inside, his nerves were alive. “She’s with her friends, and I don’t want to come off as... I don’t know, pushy.”

“She’s not going to notice you if you just sit here.”

Jude knew that. But you seemed... different. Sophisticated. Like the kind of woman who’d appreciate something thoughtful and intentional. Charging over with a cheesy pickup line wasn’t going to cut it.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” your friend asked, gesturing toward your empty Espresso Martini glass.

“Mhm.” You nodded softly, savoring the lingering flavor of the cocktail. It was exactly what you needed tonight — smooth, rich, and just a little indulgent.

“I think I’m going to get another one,” you announced, already craving the next. With your friends’ glasses still mostly full, you decided to head to the bar alone. Sliding onto a stool, you ordered another Espresso Martini and rested your hands on the sleek wooden counter, taking a moment to soak in the cozy hum of the jazz club.

Across the room, Jude saw you stand. His heart gave a subtle leap as you made your way to the bar. His friends exchanged knowing glances, one of them nudging him with a grin. Without hesitation, Jude rose from his seat. This was his chance.

“Wish me luck,” Jude murmured, adjusting his sleeves as he crossed the room.

As you waited for the bartender to finish your drink, the faint, woody scent of cologne caught your attention, drawing you to the presence beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone taking the stool next to yours. He didn’t face the bar; instead, he angled himself toward you.

“Is it just me, or do they really make you earn your drinks here?” His voice was warm, with a playful edge.

You turned toward him, your gaze meeting a boyish smile that was entirely too charming for its own good. He had an easy confidence about him, and you wondered, just for a moment, what his face looked like fully lit by that smile.

“That depends,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “Did you charm your way up here, or are you next in line to complain?”

Jude chuckled, surprised by your quick wit. He’d been right, there was something different about you.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he said, his grin widening. “Figured I’d give it a shot. Worked better than waiting for someone to serve me.”

There it was — the full smile you’d been curious about. And it didn’t disappoint. His face lit up in a way that made you momentarily lose your train of thought.

“You’re bold,” you said as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. “What’s next? Going to critique my cocktail choice?”

Jude leaned slightly closer, inspecting your glass with exaggerated interest. “Let’s see… Espresso Martini?” He paused, feigning astonishment. “No way, I was about to order the same thing!”

The obvious lie made you laugh softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Okay, you caught me,” he admitted with a low chuckle. “But I’d say it’s a solid choice. Smooth, refined, just the right amount of kick. Kind of like you.”

You gave him a mockingly skeptical look but couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.

“Are you always this focused when you’re people watching, or am I just lucky to be in your line of sight tonight?” he asked, his tone teasing but not overbearing.

“People watching? Bold of you to assume I even noticed you.” Your words were playful, but they were also true. You hadn’t noticed him until now, and that realization seemed to intrigue him even more.

“Well, I noticed you,” Jude countered smoothly. “So either you’re exceptionally good at hiding it, or I’ve just got really bad luck.”

“You’re too smooth for your own good,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do girls actually fall for this?”

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his grin never faltering. “You tell me — are you falling?”

“Hm, not yet,” you teased, holding his gaze. “But you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Not persistence, love,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, silkier register. “Just good taste.”

You let out a soft laugh, swirling your drink absentmindedly. “Good taste, huh? Is that what brought you to a jazz club of all places?”

“Good music, good atmosphere,” he said, gesturing to the band. “And apparently, good company.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Do you come here often, or is it just my lucky night?”

“That depends,” Jude replied, matching your playful tone. “Are you always this charming, or is it just the jazz talking?”

“Oh, I’m always like this,” you said with mock seriousness. “You’d better keep up.”

“Who said anything about keeping up?” His voice softened, his words carrying an unmistakable weight. “I’d much rather keep you close.”

His eyes never left yours as he spoke, the intensity behind them making your breath hitch slightly. The flirtation was steady but not overwhelming, his tone perfectly balanced between confident and inviting. There was no rush, no pretense — just an undeniable connection.

The bartender offered Jude a drink. He shook his head politely, refusing it.

“Are you not going to order that Espresso Martini, or was that just a throwaway line?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m actually not supposed to drink much in the middle of the season,” he admitted, leaning back slightly against the bar.

You tilted your head in confusion, your curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, middle of the season? Season of what?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment, realizing how casually he’d let that slip. “You know, because of my job.”

You blinked at him, nonchalantly taking another sip of your drink. “What do you do?”

The question was so casual, so devoid of the recognition he was used to, that it hit him like a curveball. For the first time in years, someone his age didn’t seem to know who he was. He swallowed his initial surprise and decided to lean into it, enjoying the novelty.

“I… well, nothing too exciting,” he said, scrambling for something to say. “I run. And stuff.”

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh, the sound light and melodic. He’d been wondering what your laugh might sound like, and now that he’d heard it, it surpassed even his wildest expectations.

“Run and stuff?” you repeated, chuckling. “Is that an official job title?”

He smiled sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for the ridiculous answer, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep hearing you laugh. It was such a beautiful sound, and knowing he’d caused it made his chest swell a little.

Jude had never been the type to flaunt his status, but this was new. Girls usually knew exactly who he was and often used it as their icebreaker. He wasn’t used to this kind of blank slate, and honestly, he loved it. With you, there was no pretense, no assumptions, and no expectations. He couldn’t lean on being Jude Bellingham, the star of England and Real Madrid. He couldn’t impress you with his accolades or fame. Instead, he had to charm you the old fashioned way — with wit, humor, and his own personality. And he found it refreshing.

For once, he wasn’t a star athlete; he was just another guy in a bar.

As he glanced at you, a thought flickered across his mind, and he tilted his head slightly, studying you in silence for a moment.

“What’s the look for?” you asked, squinting at him with playful suspicion.

He grinned softly, his gaze never wavering. “Just wondering how someone like you ended up in a place like this.”

“Someone like me?” you repeated, your curiosity rising.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “Someone who could make the whole room disappear.”

The compliment landed like a quiet ripple, subtle but powerful. You felt your cheeks grow warm, flustered by the easy way he said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You quickly brought your glass to your lips, hiding your reaction behind one of the final sips of your Martini.

“Alright,” you said with a smirk, setting your glass down. “That one was good. You get points for creativity.”

Jude’s grin widened as he caught the faint blush still lingering on your face. He could tell his words had affected you, and he loved that he was starting to crack through your calm exterior.

“Creativity?” he repeated with mock offense. “I was just being honest.”

You shook your head with a cheeky smile. “Honest or not, I’ll give you credit. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughed lightly, the sound warm and genuine. Complimenting you felt effortless to him. In fact, he could have gone on for hours, listing all the things he was already drawn to about you. But something told him to take his time. If tonight was any indication, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

“Does that mean I’ve earned a dance?” he asked, his tone cheeky yet hopeful, his grin widening as he met your eyes.

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… how about I come back in two minutes, and I’ll let you know if you’ve earned it?” you replied, finishing your drink and setting the glass down.

“I’ll take that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you stood, grabbed your purse, and excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick touch up.

Once inside, you gave your reflection a final once-over, ensuring your hair and makeup were flawless. There was something about the way Jude looked at you that made you want to bring your A game.

Meanwhile, Jude let out a deep breath. He’d gotten the green light, but now the real challenge loomed: dancing. Dancing was not his forte, but he was willing to risk it. He glanced over at his friends, who were watching him with knowing smirks. Shaking his head with a soft laugh, he adjusted his shirt and waited. His nerves weren’t focused on you possibly rejecting him but on whether he’d embarrass himself by stepping on your toes.

When you returned, you moved to settle your bill, but the bartender stopped you with a polite smile. “It’s already been taken care of,” he said, gesturing subtly toward Jude.

You turned to him, a playful smirk on your lips as you approached. “So…” he began, his tone laced with anticipation.

“I think you’ve earned a dance,” you teased, pausing for dramatic effect. “But only if you promise not to step on my toes.”

Shit.

Jude let out a nervous laugh, pretty uncertain about the promise.

“Deal,” he said with a grin, holding out his hand.

As he led you to the dance floor, the soft notes of John Coltrane’s My One and Only Love filled the air, a perfect melody for a slow dance.

The space wasn’t crowded, leaving the two of you plenty of room to move freely. He placed his hands gently on your waist, and you looped your arms around his neck. As your eyes met his, he felt the world shrink to just the two of you. The soft glow in your eyes, the delicate flutter of your lashes — it was all so simple yet so captivating. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange realization struck him: he didn’t even know your name, but you already felt special.

You moved together with an ease that surprised both of you. The initial clumsiness he feared melted away as you found a rhythm, the music guiding your steps.

“You’re not bad at this,” you said, breaking the silence with a small, teasing smile.

He chuckled softly. “Not bad? Careful with the compliments, or I might start thinking you like me.”

You laughed, a sound that sent a pleasant warmth through him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re doing okay… for now.” Your head tilted slightly as you gave him a soft, playful look.

“Okay,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his expression more serious yet still teasing. “This is the best I’ve gotten all night. I’ll take it.”

The proximity between you felt charged. His cologne, woody and fresh, was intoxicating, as was the quiet power of his presence. There was a depth to him you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it intrigued you.

Jude found himself entirely lost in the moment. Being with you felt so different, so exceptional. You didn’t know who he was, and that was precisely what made this connection so meaningful. For once, he wasn’t Jude Bellingham the football star; he was just Jude — a guy trying to impress a beautiful stranger.

And it worked.

He could see it in the way you smiled at him, the way your body moved easily with his, the way you laughed at his jokes. You liked him for him, not for his fame or the life that came with it. It made him feel proud of himself — proud that he could charm you just by being genuine. As the song played on, he wished it would never end.

It did end, unfortunately to him, and as it did, neither of you moved at first, lingering in the intimate space you’d created on the dance floor. Jude wasn’t ready to let go, and for a moment, it seemed you weren’t either. But to his dismay, you were the one to step back first.

Your eyes flicked toward one of your girlfriends across the room, and with a subtle nod, you silently communicated your readiness to leave. She got the message, standing and making her way toward the exit with the others. You turned your attention back to Jude, your charming smile softening the blow of your departure.

“Well, mystery man, this was fun. Thanks for the drink and thanks for the dance,” you said gently.

“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Jude tried to mask the disappointment in his voice, but the slight edge in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t want the night to end — not yet, not like this.

You shrugged with a playful glint in your eye. “What can I say? I’m spontaneous like that.” And just like that, you turned and walked away, leaving him no chance to respond. As you joined your girlfriends at the door, you didn’t look back, disappearing into the night and leaving Jude standing on the dance floor, disappointed yet utterly captivated.

Jude was floored.

You were beautiful, witty, flirtatious, and effortlessly intriguing.

There was a magnetic pull about you, an undeniable charm that made him want to unravel all the mysteries you seemed to carry. Most of all, you made him feel like himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was just a guy — one who was utterly enthralled by someone who didn’t even know his name.

Usually, when Jude approached women, he was bold, direct, sometimes even audacious. But with you, it was different. He found himself holding back, wanting to show you his best side, wanting to prove he was a good guy while still keeping his natural charisma intact. You had him walking a fine line between flirtation and respect, and he loved every moment of it.

Returning to the table, Jude was greeted with knowing smirks and playful jabs from his friends.

“So, when’s the first date?” one of them teased, clearly sensing how smitten he was.

Jude froze. His stomach dropped. He didn’t have your number. He didn’t even know your name.

The realization hit him like a brick wall, and his stunned expression sent his friends into fits of laughter.

“Wait, you didn’t even get her name?!” one of them managed between chuckles.

Jude groaned, running a hand down his face. Usually, he’d fire back with a quick retort, but this time, his friends had a point. He had been completely out of his element, letting you walk away without so much as a way to find you again.

On the way home, Jude replayed the night in his head, trying to figure out how to fix his mistake. He refused to let this be the end. He’d start by asking around at the jazz club, see if any of the regulars knew you. If that didn’t work, he’d make it his weekly ritual to stop by in the hope that you’d show up again.

When he got home, still brooding over his missed opportunity, he tossed his keys on the counter and reached into his pocket for his phone. Instead, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Pulling it out, he found a folded napkin. His heart raced as he opened it, revealing a note written in elegant handwriting:

For the guy who runs for a living, call me if you need any cocktail recommendations.

Beneath it was your number, complete with a lipstick mark stamped beside it.

Jude couldn’t help the wide grin spreading across his face. His heart pounded as he bit his lip, a mix of relief and excitement flooding through him.

You’d left him with just enough to keep the connection alive — your charm lingering even in your absence.

Yup. He was definitely calling for some cocktail recommendations.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jb5 x reader #jb5 #jb10 #jb22 #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football player x reader #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

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miupow · 9 months ago

Note

But now I need werewolf Soobin x reader sfw and nsfw head cannons. I need to know how he would be with his mate pls I beseech thee. If I had money I’d pay you imma get rich so I can pay you to write these

third member down !! will i make ones for yeonjun and taehyun too.. probably if that's what you all would like lol !! having fun making these ^^ and no need to pay me omg anon !!! i love making content for my blog all i ever ask if that i get feedback and support and love <3

─── ⋆ CRAVEVERSE ; werewolf!soobin headcanons !

cw ⸝⸝ sfw + nsfw hcs .ᐟ werewolf!sb (and werewolf!rest of txt) , fem!reader , no dark content warning for these hcs but general dark content warning for crave as an au. breeding kink, size kink, unprotected sex, knotting, possessive and protective behavior

SFW ;

-> crave!soobin who only agrees to keep you because it’s what the others want (at least everyone other than taehyun). if it’s something that would make his brothers happy, than he’s fine with it, but he doesn’t really care much about the new human in his life…

-> except he does. very much so lol

-> crave!soobin who falls for you so fast it makes his head spin, but avoids you like the plague— he doesn’t want to hurt you, keeps his space but remains respectful!! but his resolve is quickly crumbling

-> you think he doesn’t like you but it’s QUITE the opposite!! he likes you so much that he’s.. changing and its freaking him out lol . suddenly he understands his brothers when they go on about their instincts, their ‘wolf’

-> crave!soobin who is the easiest to talk to and reason with because he’s not instinct crazy like his brothers are, can actually think rationally and respect your opinion like you’re a person. he treats you the most like an equal

-> crave!soobin who gets so protective over you it drives him crazy!! he can’t even let you out of his sight without worrying sick about you!! he just needs to make sure you’re safe, okay… not knowing where you are or what you’re up to makes him a nervous wreck

-> crave!soobin who is the most okay with yeonjun claiming that you’re his soulmate or whatever crazy talk he spouts about your destined “love”.. his hyung has a screw loose but he loves him and if you’re what makes him so happy, than he’s happy. he’s okay with being on the side.

-> but crave!soobin who loves attention so much that he doesn’t know what to do when he gets it!! gets all nervous and blushy when you get sweet with him !! because while he’s okay with not being your number 1 he’s still down horrendously for you

-> crave!soobin who has trouble sleeping and has had nightmares and insomnia for years… but who can finally sleep easy with you cuddled into his side <3

-> crave!soobin who would do absolutely anything you asked, just because seeing you smile is his favorite thing in the world ! always always thinking about you, your happiness, health and safety always on his mind <3

NSFW ; (under the cut!)

-> i touch on this a little in my old soobin drabble for crave but crave!soobin is a little bit of a late bloomer.. in that he’s never had a rut or really had any awakening of his instincts even as the second oldest. unlike his brothers he feels no kind of instinctual pull that guides them, feels more human than werewolf, like something’s wrong with him. but that all changes when you come into his life…

-> crave!soobin who goes into rut for the first time a few moons after you become part of his life, but who holes himself away in his room to ride it out alone just because he’s so frightened of hurting you.

-> he’s so much.. bigger than you. and he doesn’t know how to control himself. it’s all so new to him.

-> crave!soobin who has the biggest breeding kink of them all !! always daydreaming about getting your tummy round with his pups, can’t stop himself from babbling about breeding you when he’s balls deep inside <3

-> crave!soobin who loves titties w all his big wolfish heart <3 always sucking on your tits whenever he has the chance !

-> crave!soobin who won’t stop, can’t stop until he’s drained himself of everything he’s got, overstimulating u both ^^

-> crave!soobin who has the biggest cock in the pack and who is a little insecure about it,. just so convinced he’ll hurt you poor baby!!

-> on that note crave!soobin who’s the most submissive out of the boys, who likes being told what to do, bossed around, topped and dominated hehe

#lia’s hard hours 🔥#txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #soobin smut #[ 💌 ] — requests!

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hp-hcs · 1 year ago

Note

Reader (male preferably) x T.N and M.R

Where reader gets into fights a lot. Like a lot. Almost double the amount that Theo and Matt get in combined in just a week. The only reason Dumbledore lets him stay at Hogwarts is because he’s top of every class. What bugs a lot of his peers is the fact that he doesn’t try. He doesn’t study, he just gets it straight up, he barely shows up to class, he fights everyone and anything that speaks bad about the slytherin house, and he’s got the face every guys jealous of. Reader is just made to make people mad, is how he’d be described. But he’s not aggressive. He doesn’t lose his temper easy, it’s just when his house or Theo and Matt are mentioned that he loses it. It’s like a trigger going off in his brain, to protect what’s his. And Merlin does that turn them on.

NSFW (optional)

Reader loves to mark them as his. To have everyone be able to see the dark hickeys or slowly healing bite marks. To display a type of claim over the two. They’re his. And he knows exactly how to make them feel good. Make them writhe for him. Degrading Mattheo while edging Theodore, wrapping his bloodied hands around their throats while he pushes them up against the wall. Fuck and when he’s all beaten up after a fight? They can’t fucking resist him.

• smut • bloody knuckles — poly! sub! sweetie pie! theodore nott x poly! sub! brat! mattheo riddle x gn! poly! dom! reader

❕no pronouns or gender/assigned sex markers of any kind!❕

warnings: SMUT MDNI, BLOOD KINK JFC IS THERE A GODDAMN BLOOD KINK IN HERE, same with degradation holy fuck, pain(?) kink, violence, mild descriptions of gore/wounds, usage of the word ‘blood’ or ‘bloody’ approximately 12000000 times, THE BOYS ARE ROMANTICALLY & SEXUALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER, some pretty aggressive dom/sub roles for ya silly little deviants

i don’t know why i gave the boys pure opposite personalities. the dichotomy of man, i guess.

this is quite easily the filthiest fucking thing i’ve ever written, and i was too embarrassed to let my allosexual boyfie edit/help with this one so it’s real bad 😬 enjoy your asexual-written smut? ig? i did my best, anon, i’m so sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seamus Finnegan was not expecting to start off his Monday morning with a broken nose.

To be fair though, it was kind of his fault. I mean, six years of school together and the boy still decided to run his mouth without a single care in the world.

“Heard Riddle’s a slut. That true?”

Your head snapped up and a furious look crossed your face. “What?”

“Hot though,” Seamus shrugged. “‘s why y’keep ‘im ‘round, yeah?”

Your hands clenched into fists down by your sides.

“He a good fuck, at least?” Seamus asked carelessly, seemingly unaware of your brewing anger. “I bet ‘e is. Think ‘e’d put out?”

Before anyone could even blink, you had Finnegan down on the ground. His face quickly became the victim of your furious fists.

He tried to shove you off, but you just smacked his hands away and got a solid hit to the center of his face, punctuated by the sound of snapping cartilage.

Blood rushed in your ears and the crowds fell away as you focused solely on Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

You were abruptly brought out of your bloodthirsty rage by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso and yanking you off of Seamus.

You spun around in anger, the question of who the fuck-? dying on your lips when you saw the concerned face of Theodore Nott, and the bright red face of Mattheo Riddle.

~~~

“Darling-”

“Shut up, it’s my love language,” you pouted.

Theo rolled his eyes fondly, leading you by your shoulders into their dorm’s bathroom. “You know we can handle ourselves, love. You’ve met both of our fathers; we’ve had much worse than some Irish pipsqueak theorizing about our sex lives.”

“Well, I thought it was hot.” Mattheo interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Our badass lover who’s willing to throw down with a Gryffindor to protect our honor? Proof that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Well, I just don’t want other people talking about you like that,” you scowled.

“We know, love,” Theo grinned, crouching down to dig the first aid kit out from under the sink, patting your thigh in a patronizingly reassuring gesture. “Now, lemme see how bad it is.”

You huffed in faux annoyance, holding out your bloody hands in front of you and lifting your chin so he could see the state of your face.

Theo sighed and began his millionth lecture of the day as he started dabbing antiseptic ointment on the few small scrapes scattered across your face.

Mattheo was unusually quiet, adding nothing to the playful bickering between you and Theo.

You glanced over at him, only to find that he was practically enraptured, staring at your hands. His eyes followed a single bead of blood’s meandering path down your knuckles and fingers, watching as it dripped off the tip of your index finger and splattered onto the tile floor.

You could’ve sworn you saw him lick his lips.

You traded a knowing look with Theo before speaking. “Whatcha looking at, Matty?”

His cheeks flushed red and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes. “Nothing!”

You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

He gulped.

You reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him up against the wall. “A blood kink, huh? Shit, you really are a slut, love.”

Mattheo looked down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

You gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of your grasp.

You pressed two blood-streaked fingers against his lips, groaning at the sight of his tongue instinctively darting out to kitten-lick them.

“Shit, Matty,” Theo whispered from behind you.

You trailed your fingers down his jaw and the side of his neck before loosely wrapping your hand around his throat.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Y-Y/n-”

“You like this? Hm?” You crooned as the blood on your hand smeared onto the skin of his neck.

Mattheo nodded frantically—as much as he could with the limited range of motion.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Riddle. What a filthy fucking boy.”

(He whimpered. He fucking loved it when you called him by his last name.)

You let go of his neck, stepping back and leaving him with a pleading whine caught in his throat as you turned to your other boyfriend.

“And Theodore, my pretty little angel,” you cooed softly, running your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek. “How’s my little lovebug doing?”

He watched you with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. “Y-Y/n…”

You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Answer my question, pretty boy.”

“I-I’m doing good, love,” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as you trailed your thumb down the side of his neck and swept it across his collarbone.

You abruptly pulled your hand away, spinning on your heel and leaving the en-suite without another word.

Your boys followed you into the dorm room like lost puppies, trailing after you with confused and needy expressions.

You sat down on one of the beds, lying back against the pillows with a relaxed and unbothered expression on your face. “Teddy, over here. Matty, go sit in the chair.” You waved your hand towards the desk chair, lazily motioning for Theodore to take off his shirt and join you on the bed.

Mattheo pouted and whined. “What? But- darlin’, I’ve been-”

“A greedy bitch,” you scoff as you yanked off Theo’s trousers and boxers in one swift motion, rolling him over onto his back. “Now sit down and wait your damn turn. Don’t you dare touch yourself. You’d better keep your hands where I can fucking see them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to your other lover. You ignored Mattheo’s protesting whines in favor of wrapping your fingers around Theo’s dick, appreciating the way Theo’s hips jerked up with a startled moan and his hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as you did so.

“Riddle. I changed my mind. Get the fuck over here.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at the boy wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. “Hold Teddy’s hand.”

He jumped into action, quickly clambering onto the bed next to the pair of you and scooping up one of Theo’s hands in his.

You nodded, pleased at his cooperation, and slowly started jerking Theo off.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Matty?”

You expected him to say something in agreement, or tease Theo lightly, but your question was met with silence.

You glanced over, curious as to what caught his attention. Mattheo’s eyes were laser focused on Theo’s lower half. You followed his line of sight, confused as to what he was looking at, when you realized.

The blood from your busted knuckles had smeared itself all over Theo’s cock.

“Suck Teddy off.” The demand left your lips before you could even fully think it through.

Neither boy seemed disinterested in your proposition, if the way Mattheo all but scrambled down the bed as he leapt onto your boyfriend was any indication.

Mattheo kneeled between Theo’s thighs and pinned down his hips, practically drooling at the perverse sight in front of him.

Theo moaned brokenly as he felt Mattheo’s tongue lick a long stripe up his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. You hummed appreciatively at the gorgeous view in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hand along Theo’s hip and thigh.

The dorm was quickly filled with the sweet sounds of Theodore’s little moans and sighs, and the filthy wet sounds of Mattheo’s mouth.

He drew Theo closer and closer to his release. But right as your sweetest lover’s body began to shake, you caught sight of one of your brat’s hands subtly sneaking between his legs. You growled, tightening your grip in his hair to warn him to pull off.

As soon as Mattheo pulled off of Theo’s cock, panting for air, you harshly grabbed his jaw and yanked his head up to face you.

“Greedy fucking whore,” you sneered, “I told you not to touch yourself. Apologize to Theo for being such a self-centered brat.”

“S-sorry! So-sorry! I-I’m sorry, T-Theo!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, petting his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. “Good, love. Continue.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the whiplash of your sudden gentleness as he leaned back down to continue his earlier ministrations.

He quickly realized why you’d been so suddenly sweet when he felt your hand start roughly palming him through his trousers. He whined around Theo’s cock, which in turn made Theodore gasp and moan loudly.

You grinned at your boys’ reactions as you leaned down to murmur in Mattheo’s ear, “You can cum if you get Teddy off, alright sweetheart?”

Sparked with renewed interest at the incentive, Mattheo resumed sucking off Theo with vigor. Theo’s thighs shook as he babbled incoherently, a mix of “Fuck!”s, “Merlin-”s, and “Y/n!”s.

“Good boys, that’s it,” you cooed sweetly, brushing sweaty curls off of Theo’s forehead. “You’re just so close, aren’t you, my love?”

Theo sobbed pitifully and nodded. “Pl-please- Y/n- please!”

“Go ahead,” you whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

With your permission, Theo fell apart with a loud moan, his entire body shaking and spasming. You continued palming Mattheo, intent on keeping good on your promise.

“Come whenever you’re ready, Riddle,” you murmured. He had pulled off of Theo by now, and stared up at you with wide, glazed-over eyes. You wiped a smear of cum from the corner of his lips with your thumb, grinning teasingly at the pair of them as you promptly stuck it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the digit.

With one final moan, Mattheo’s body stiffened up and broke down into shudders as he was wracked with the force of his orgasm. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the bed, tucking his face into the hollow where Theo’s thigh met his pelvis.

You gave both of your boys a minute to collect themselves, murmuring gentle praise as you littered their faces with soft kisses. “Both so good for me, my best boys. So perfect.”

You sat in a contented quiet for a few more minutes, just caressing them gently. But once their breathings had steadied out, they startled you by sharing a look and abruptly tugging you down and rolling over on top of you.

“Your turn now, love.”

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megalony · 6 months ago

Text

Baby, Be Mine

Hello, as promised, here is my newest Dark! Buck request, thank you for the lovely request anon I had so much fun with this I loved writing it.

And I'm hoping to do a follow-up soon.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: Evan and (Y/n) have a friends with benefits situation, but Evan wants more. And he knows just how to get it. When she becomes pregnant, Evan becomes possessive.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With his arms folded over his chest, Evan tilted his upper body backwards until he was propped up against the fire truck behind him. His fingers began to tap against his arms and his head pressed back against the truck which felt cold and comforting against his burning skin.

He crossed one leg over the other, tapping the heel of his boot against the floor in a typical drumbeat that regulated his system and stopped him from jittering too badly.

A candid smile started to play on his lips and a sparkle crossed over his pupils when he set his sights on the scene playing out ahead of him near the locker room.

(Y/n).

There she was, his girl, knelt down in front of a group of school kids who had come down on a trip to see the station and see how the emergency services worked. There was Evan's girl, chatting to the kids like she had all the time in the world for each and every one of them, talking to them and making them feel like their questions mattered to her.

The smile on her face was one that had Evan's heart soaring in his chest. Her smile made her look so motherly, so kind and affectionate and like the sweetest girl in the world.

Evan loved the way her smile reached her eyes and how she let one of the kids take her hand and begin swinging it between them like a chain.

He loved how all the children levitated to her and wanted to be around her and how she gave them the time of day.

She looked so sweet and innocent talking to the kids.

She looked like a mother. Evan could envision her being a mother, he could see her with a newborn, he could see all of that affection within her pouring out into caring for a child. He could see himself starting a family with her.

What he'd had with Taylor in the past had been fleeting. It had been a whirlwind. A quick, one sided romance that left Evan feeling deflated and broken and like no part of him or his feelings really mattered.

(Y/n) was different. She was everything that was bright and enthusiastic and loving and caring, and Evan loved being with her. He loved the nights where they would meet up or when she would come round to his place and spend the night. He could see them moving in together, having kids together, going on family holidays and bringing her to the station as his partner. He could see himself bringing (Y/n) to all the station events and introducing her as his girl and showing off the family they could have together.

And Evan knew what they had was what he wanted. He knew if given time, they would get into a proper relationship rather than just hooking up together. He knew they would end up together and he could have what everyone else had. A family. A loving partner.

He could be happy. With (Y/n).

His eyes lit up as he watched one of the kids take (Y/n)'s hand and shyly ask her a question. And when (Y/n) shuffled closer to the little girl and started to explain whatever she had asked, Evan's heart could of burst in his chest right then and there.

He couldn't believe how sweet she was. (Y/n) wasn't technically one of them, a firefighter, Hell, she hadn't even started out as an intern here. She had volunteered to help Bobby with audits and paperwork and do any odd jobs he needed. She was volunteering to help out because she enjoyed the atmosphere and got along well with the team, and she wanted to be helpful. It also gave her credit at college where she was studying to become a teacher.

After a few weeks, Bobby took her on as a sort of intern, almost a receptionist role because (Y/n) was such a good help. It meant Bobby had more time to be on the floor and the job with his team rather than being swamped in paperwork, and (Y/n) loved to help.

She worked here twice a week, just for a few hours doing the audits, admin and filing paperwork.

The perfect job for the perfect girl.

His eyes followed her as she gently ushered the kids back towards their teacher who looked like it was time to go back to the school.

Once (Y/n) was up to her feet, leaning against a pillar as she waved goodbye to the kids, Evan took it as his chance.

Pushing himself off the truck, he leaned around and looked for the clipboard that was stashed away in one of the compartments. He knew where it was because he was the one who always took the liberty of checking the inventory and stocking the truck and the ambulance up.

He tucked it safely beneath his arm, cast his eyes around the station and then slowly walked towards (Y/n).

A glimmer lit up his eyes when she turned and headed down the small corridor in between the locker room and the little laundry room on the left. She was aiming for Bobby's office by the looks of it, finishing up the paperwork audits, Evan would guess.

His lips curved into a devilish grin and he quickened his steps, staying light on his feet so she wouldn't hear his approach.

(Y/n)'s body jerked forward and a gasp erupted from her lips when a pair of strong arms bound themselves around her waist. She could feel a scream clawing at the back of her throat until a familiar pair of lips attached to the side of her neck like a vampire.

She twisted her head to the right to look at that familiar crop of sandy hair and a smile formed on her lips, despite the way her heart was bashing against her ribs like a jackhammer.

"Evan. What are you-" She gasped against his mouth when he cut her off mid-sentence.

She felt his hands roaming to her hips and he easily spun her around so she was facing him instead of the corridor. Her hands moved to his broad shoulders to steady herself so she didn't stumble and she felt her knees going weak when Evan quietly groaned into her mouth.

What had gotten into him?

He'd never done this before. He'd never pounced on her for a kiss at the station, or anywhere else for that matter.

The pair of them had had a few hook ups over the last few weeks. It started off as just a one night thing, after drinks with the team at a bar and getting a little too familiar with each other in the taxi they shared. But then it happened again. And again.

She liked Evan. (Y/n) really liked him, but she wasn't sure about getting into a relationship with him. (Y/n) was splitting her time between college and working here at the station. And Evan had only just broken things off with Taylor and she had done a bit of damage to his mind and self-esteem. (Y/n) thought it would be easier to be friends, at least for now, but that was hard when Evan wormed around her. Their friendship had morphed into friends with benefits.

When he pulled back to suck in a breath, he pressed his temple down against hers and (Y/n) swore she could see something pooling in those dark pupils that had all but taken over the expanse of his iris.

She found herself getting lost in trying to decipher that look, so much so that she didn't realise Evan was walking her back until her back hit a wall with a thud.

Evan moved expertly as if he had done this before or in the very least, already had a plan in his mind of what he wanted to do.

His left hand reached out beside them and opened the door to the inventory room and with little effort, he nudged (Y/n) inside and followed suit. His boot gave the door a little nudge to close it behind them and the automatic light flashed overhead. Giving them minimal light in the small space that was barely the size of a small box bedroom.

"Nice dress." He murmured against the corner of her mouth, his voice low and gritty and it made (Y/n) shiver against him.

"Thank you," She murmured softly, tilting her head back so she could look around and see what room he had guided them into. Why had he brought her in here? What was he up to? What was going through that head of his to cause such a loving yet almost devilish smirk to flash over his lips.

She gently brushed her thumb across his jaw, swiping away a mark of dust that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. But her eyes widened and she held her breath when he turned them around so he could walk her back so she was once again backed up against the wall. And he dumped the clipboard from under his arm onto one of the shelves, to be forgotten immediately.

Her chest tightened and her eyes went wide in their sockets, quickly looking around the room as if she thought anyone else could be hiding in here or indeed fit in this poxy room with the two of them. She could barely catch a proper breath with the adrenaline pooling in her stomach when she felt Evan's hands scrunch up the hem of her dress. Which he promptly lifted up until it bunched around her hips, giving himself an eyeful of her thighs and her underwear.

"Evan!" She swatted her hand down on his shoulder, hissing his name before she tried to discourage him and drop his hands, but he only grinned wider in response.

His thumb traced up and down her skin for a few moments and (Y/n) tried to wriggle in his arms, knowing she needed to stop because they were at work. But she was finding it hard to push him away and break out of his embrace. Until he ducked down and attached his lips to the side of her neck.

"Evan, if someone walks in-"

"No one's gonna walk in. We're the only ones who do inventory, sweetheart."

That didn't even deserve an answer. He was baiting her to distract her from what he was doing so he could carry on. And he was right. (Y/n) did inventory audits for Bobby and Evan did the stock levels in the trucks and the ambulance. Hardly anyone else bothered to come in here.

A shudder crawled along (Y/n)'s spine when Evan sank his teeth down into her neck and she found the strength to grab his shoulders and try to push him back. She couldn't risk making a sound. She would be mortified if anyone walked in and caught them. She wouldn't ever dare show her face in the station again.

She had no doubt there were countless others who had copped off in various areas of the station, some people were just like that. But (Y/n) didn't put herself in that category, and she wouldn't have thought Evan would have done this either.

They had never so much as stolen a kiss in the station because they weren't technically in a relationship. They were friends with the odd added benefit every now and then.

This was improper. They shouldn't be doing this; Evan shouldn't be doing this. (Y/n) had to be the level-headed one and put a stop to it.

(Y/n) bit her lip to smother the gasp she felt crawling up her throat when Evan swiftly darted his hand down and hooked a finger in the elastic of her underwear.

All her effort went into her hands and she grasped his wrist, yanking his hand away while she tried to nudge him back.

"We can't."

He leaned his chest down into hers, sandwiching her against him and the wall and she could feel his lips curving into a grin when he stole a hot, feverish kiss from her lips.

"Evan," The way she groaned his name made his fingers clutch her hips again like they were his lifeline and he pressed down on her until she had to concentrate on taking each breath against his lips.

"You look beautiful."

(Y/n) wasn't sure whether he was trying to change the subject or if he was just singing her praises so she wouldn't object. Either way, she could feel herself starting to give in.

Evan could feel himself becoming desperate to elaborate, to say every little thought rushing around inside his head at one hundred miles an hour. He wanted to tell her she looked like a natural when she was pandering to that class of school kids. He wanted to say she looked like she was a mother already, she had the instincts and the caring nature and she was training to be a teacher, after all.

He wanted to tell her she'd look even better if she were pregnant.

He wanted to say that he'd love nothing more than for (Y/n) to be pregnant; for him to get her pregnant.

Evan knew without a doubt if that happened, (Y/n) would get into a relationship with him. She'd stop worrying, stop hesitating when he asked her, she'd be with him and they would be a proper family. Better than the one Evan had growing up. Better than the people he knew who broke apart and left their kids with broken homes.

They would be a proper family.

"You're insatiable," She gasped desperately against his lips, pushing his shoulders but he felt like he was made of stone, far too heavy for her to push back no matter how hard she tried.

A low chuckle left his lips and he drank in every little sound (Y/n) made when he pushed into her again and hiked her dress up even higher, giving himself a better view.

"Hm. And I bet you've missed me." He panted each word against her lips, barely parting so (Y/n) could feel the way his lips moved against hers and she swallowed each word, gulping for the air he'd stolen.

Her eyes darted down to stare at his collar bone instead of his eyes as he started to make a trail down her jaw and along her neck instead.

Evan kissed his way down her skin, between and across her cleavage which caused her to shiver against him.

"I want you."

He wanted her in every sense of the word, and he could already feel the plan formulating in his mind. He could see how this would play out and how things were going to go the way they should, soon.

Things would get better from here on out.

***

A sparkling grin lit up Evan's face when he opened the apartment door to be faced with the girl he hadn't been able to get out of his head.

He leaned his hip against the door and stuffed his free hand into his pocket. He couldn't stop himself from raking his eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame, taking in her appearance. She looked as lovely as ever.

A lot of the time when Evan saw her, especially when they were at the station, (Y/n) often wore vest tops and high-waisted jeans. But more recently, like when they hooked up at the station a few weeks ago, she had been wearing dresses, like the one she wore today.

It was a dusty cream dress with blue hearts dotted all around, no frills at the bottom and the material was thin and loose. But what Evan loved about it was the fact that it was fastened up with string into a neat bow on her right hip. All it would take was for Evan to pull that string loose and the material would fall apart and hang off her shoulders like a cardigan.

Her hair was done up with just a few small, loose tendrils framing her face and Evan felt a sudden urge to knot his fingers into her woven hair.

"Hi." His lips perked up into a grin and he took a step back to motion for (Y/n) to come in.

"Hi Evan."

He hadn't been expecting her today. She never said she was coming round.

Evan had been quite thrilled at the station to find that all he had to do was brush up behind (Y/n) and she would turn into a shivering mess. She would step away from him and give him a stern look to warn him away. Their little tryst in the inventory room had been fun, but (Y/n) wasn't risking it happening again, not at work. She was too nervous about the thought of someone catching them in the act.

His tongue darted out and distorted his smile as he ran his tongue along his lower lip and tilted his head to one side. His eyes following (Y/n) as she brushed against his chest when she passed him to enter the apartment.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Evan followed (Y/n)'s lead as she walked inside and when she pointed towards the living room, he nodded.

Even though she had been here a few times before, she was still nervous to walk around without asking permission.

She started to knot her hands together and dig her nails into the back of her hands as she aimed for the sofa. (Y/n) sat down and did her best to hold her breath to try in vain to control her breathing and stop herself from going into a panic attack.

She had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in her head. Gone over what she wanted to say, how best to word it, trying to prepare for every possible reaction she could get.

When she sat down, she dragged the hem of her dress down towards her knees and began smoothing her hands up and down her knees. Her eyes followed Evan as he sat down next to her on the sofa. He sat close enough that their thighs were touching and it sent jolts of electricity running through (Y/n)'s nerves, all the way up to her heart that was going ten to the dozen.

"I- I need to talk to you, about something." (Y/n) did her best to smile and control her expression, but she truly had no idea what reaction she was going to get from Evan and it was making her feel sick.

If he had a bad reaction, if he got angry- (Y/n) had never seen him be anything close to angry, only slightly annoyed- she wouldn't know how to respond. If he started to blame her or shout or argue, (Y/n) feared she would break completely. But she couldn't stop thinking that he would hate what she had to tell him.

"Okay… what's going on?" His tone was soft and that dazzling smile was still playing on his lips.

When (Y/n) looked up at him, she realised he had the beginning of stubble gracing his face. It was strangely satisfying to see Evan with stubble rather than a clean shaven face. It made him look rugged and not so boyish, he looked older, more mature like this.

(Y/n) realised she must have been silent for longer than expected because she was brought out of her thoughts by Evan's hand softly yet firmly curling over her own.

"Everything okay?"

She found comfort in his large hand enveloping hers and she moved her free hand to grip his hand like they were playing a strange game of Jenga. Her thumb glided across the back of his hand and she couldn't quite meet his gaze, so her eyes settled on his lips that were especially red like fresh strawberries.

"Evan, I… I'm pregnant."

There. She'd said it. She'd said the words that had been rolling around in her mind for the last three days since she found out. The words that had kept her up last night into the early hours of the morning, wondering how Evan would react and what he would want to do.

Part of her expected him to retract his hand and shuffle away from her like she had some kind of deadly disease.

Instead, his hand tightened around hers and he inched closer until they were almost hip to hip, nearly merging into one. (Y/n) finally lifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes that were wide and deep and the purest shade of blue she had ever seen.

"Really?" Evan was relieved to find his voice filled with shock and an air of surprise.

Not that he was truly surprised, though.

This had been his wish. This is what he had been hoping for, this was the course he wanted their lives to lead. He wanted to entwine them together and bring them closer together. Having a baby meant they would be a family, it meant (Y/n) would always be in his life and more to the point, this meant that they could be in a relationship.

All the times Evan had asked her and (Y/n) said no, she wasn't sure, she wasn't ready, it was a big commitment. Well, there was no bigger commitment than having a baby together and she could hardly turn Evan down now. They were a perfect match, they were meant for one another.

And Evan's ploy had worked. She was pregnant, just like he knew she would be sooner or later.

"Hm," (Y/n) nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. "I don't know what to do." She could feel tears building up behind her eyes, but she pushed them away. She didn't want to cry. Not yet. Not until they had talked and she knew whether she had cause to panic.

"What to do?" Evan reiterated quietly while he sank back into the sofa and brought one leg up to curl beneath him on the sofa.

"I don't know if I'm ready for a baby, I- Evan I'm still in college, I have another year left. And we're not exactly together, I couldn't raise a baby on my own and juggle my work or- or tie you down."

There was so much to think about. Too much, really.

(Y/n) was still training to become a teacher for preschool children, she had another year left before she would be qualified to find a permanent position. She was supposed to do work experience this last year of college, that wouldn't be ideal if she was pregnant.

And she was still young. Evan was older than her. He was already thirty and (Y/n) was closer to eighteen than she was to twenty five. A baby was one of the biggest commitments to make in life and as much as (Y/n) adored children and wanted many in the future, she wasn't sure if she could do this right now.

She had the idea in her head of how her life should go. Get a teaching job, become settled, then get into a stable relationship, move in together and then think about kids and possibly marriage. This was not the path she had set out for herself.

"Who says you can't finish college and have a baby?" His response made (Y/n) look at him quizzically.

"You- you want the baby?"

"Of course." He dragged his free hand through his curls, brushing them back and taming them in the process of trying to calm himself down and not seem too eager.

He didn't exactly want to give away the fact that he had instagated this, that this was what he had been planning and hoping for. But he would never want (Y/n) to think for a moment that he would want her to get rid of this baby. Their baby. He wanted (Y/n). He wanted a family with her, and now it was finally happening and Evan was all too eager for this to happen quickly.

"I've always wanted kids, and you already know I've fallen hard for you." His words made (Y/n) blush and she dipped her head down to look at their entwined hands. "I wouldn't expect you to do this alone. We've got something, a connection, and I think we could try a relationship, do this properly."

"Really?" (Y/n)'s head was swimming so much she feared she might just pass out.

This wasn't the reaction she had been expecting. She didn't think Evan would shout or truly get angry with her, but she had worried he wouldn't be pleased about this.

They weren't in a relationship, they didn't live together, and they hadn't planned this. (Y/n) thought Evan would think a baby would tie him down and tie him to her and that he wouldn't want that. She didn't think he would be so ready and willing to do this.

Her eyes lifted to meet his and she felt her stomach sparking with adrenaline when his hand left her thigh to cup her cheek. And when he leaned his temple against hers, (Y/n) could feel her nerves setting alight.

"You're amazing with kids, I know you'll be a great mum. And nothing would stop you from finishing your last year at college. We'd just have to work out the timing, at the worst you'd graduate a month or two later than expected. We're both grown ups, we can do this."

His words brought a sense of comfort washing over (Y/n) and she nodded before she let Evan steal her breath away when he kissed her. She felt herself turning to jelly when his chest leaned against hers and he practically pushed her down on the sofa until her back was propped up against the arm rest. And Evan was hovering over her, consuming her, lighting up and smothering every one of her senses.

It didn't matter to Evan that (Y/n) was younger than him, it didn't mean they were at different places in their lives. She was learning to be a teacher, she was committed and had roots here, not like Evan at her age when he was moving from state to state, trying to find himself and find his calling. And he was ready to settle down now, with her and only her.

The age difference between them wasn't ludicris and it wasn't a problem, if anything, Evan liked the fact that she was younger.

In his mind, she was going to be the perfect young mum.

"You'd really do this with me? Be with me, have this baby?" (Y/n) spoke in hushed whispers against his lips while she parted her legs to the sides to let Evan rest between her thighs. Since he was practically lying on top of her, one hand still cupping her cheek and the other now curled around her hip while he balanced his weight on his knees so he didn't crush her beneath him.

"Sweetheart, I want this, I want you."

His words were affirming, reassuring and left no room for doubt. He wouldn't have her doubting his commitment to her or the baby. And he didn't want (Y/n) to think that she had to get rid of the baby either. This was a part of them, this was what they wanted. It wouldn't ruin her life or disrupt her career, it would just mean that she was settled down by the time she became a qualified teacher.

Evan detached his lips from hers so he could graze along the side of her neck instead. Baring his teeth just enough to scratch the surface of her skin and leave the slightest mark.

He knew she had loved it last time he left a trace of hickeys along the side of her neck and down towards her cleavage. He had seen the way she bit her lip and adverted her gaze when she had to use make up to cover the marks he left. Showing everyone she'd had a lot of fun with him.

Only now it would mean that she belonged to him.

He dragged his tongue against the slight scratch he'd created against her neck and nudged his nose along the tip of her jaw before he spoke in hushed tones against her throat. "Move in with me."

"What?"

(Y/n) tangled her hand in the short hairs at the back of his head, scraping her nails against his scalp in the process. She tried to tilt her head down but she couldn't quite move her head with Evan tucked into her neck like this.

Had she heard that right? Was he really asking her this? Would it be too soon- was she really considering this?

"Then you're not doing this alone. My place is bigger than yours, and it makes sense, doesn't it? Then I can be here for everything with you, the appointments, the kicks, and I can look after you."

A jolt ran through (Y/n) when she felt Evan's hand glide along her hip to trace the pad of his fingers across her stomach which pulled in at the ticklish feeling. It was far too early for any of that, but it wouldn't stop either of them from thinking what it would be like in a few months when (Y/n) would start to show and they would feel the baby moving.

"When they're here it makes sense to have you both here with me, so I can do my part." His words were spoken in hushed tones against the hollow expanse of (Y/n)'s throat, and he knew his actions were causing her breathing to quicken beneath him.

It did make sense. (Y/n) could see the upside to this. If she moved in with Evan, they could try and make this a proper relationship, they could see if they could make things work and provide a stable home for this baby. It meant they could prepare for the baby together, get things ready when the time was nearer. And Evan could indeed experience this with her.

And he was right, after the baby was born it wouldn't be a good idea to be living separately if Evan was going to help take care of the baby and do his role as a father. Plus, if they made this work together and their relationship worked out, it would only be logical that they moved in together.

(Y/n) was already pregnant so moving in together wasn't that much of a large jump to make in the scale of relationships.

(Y/n) leaned her cheek on top of Evan's head, nuzzling her skin into his curls while she wormed her arms around his shoulders to hug him. "I- I was so worried, that you wouldn't be happy."

"Oh sweetheart," He lifted his head from her neck to hover over her again while he shimmied round and laid out on his front between her thighs. "You've no idea how buzzing I am right now."

He kissed her once, twice, and then again until (Y/n) was gasping for breath and her head was swimming.

This is the news he had been praying for, this is what he had been begging to happen and now it was finally here. Everything was going to go his way, how could Evan he anything but happy?

***

"You okay, sweetheart?" Evan tilted his head to one side and moved both hands to grip his hips when he stood in the doorway to Bobby's office.

(Y/n) was knelt down on the floor, her head leant up against the desk, a few different piles of paper scattered around her and a faraway look in her eyes. Her hands were resting on her lap, but Evan could see she was slightly trembling as if the aircon was on and the room was brisk and cold.

He didn't like the frown that pulled at her lips when she flopped her head back so she could squint up at him.

He rolled his lips together and headed into the room before squatting down beside her. His knees parted out to the sides and his hands clasped together between his legs while he raised a brow and waited silently to find out if anything was wrong.

"I- I just feel a bit sick, I'm okay." (Y/n) did her best to force a smile onto her face, but she knew Evan saw right through it. Her body shuddered when his hand reached up to press beneath her chin and he tilted her head back when she was about to drop her head down.

"You don't look okay to me."

The unspoken look that transgressed between their eyes told Evan that they both knew the cause of this. Morning sickness. Evan had gotten up with her at five this morning when she felt unwell and subsequently stumbled to the bathroom to throw up. He told her to stay home, but she seemed to of been feeling a bit better. Obviously the sickness feeling had come back with vengeance again.

"Go home." Evan pecked her temple and brushed his thumb along her chin, but he didn't like the way (Y/n) sighed and shook her head.

"It's the end of the month, every audit needs checking, submitting and filing. Besides, I've not been here an hour yet."

(Y/n) couldn't just pack up and go home. She only came into the station three hours a day, twice a week. She couldn't go home when every audit needed grouping together, checking then she would have to file them away. (Y/n) didn't like to fall behind on her work in any aspect and she wanted this done so she wouldn't have so much to do when she came back in a few days.

She gently pulled her head from Evan's hand and leaned forward to smother her face into his chest instead. She smiled against his shirt when she felt his fingers weave into her hair and his lips mesh against the top of her head.

"So do the audits at home."

"Hm?"

"Baby, Bobby won't care whether you organise and sort them out here or back at our place. Do them at home, and I'll bring them back in with me tomorrow all organised for Bobby. Besides, you're not well, may as well rest at home than worry here."

She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't thought that Bobby would let her take the paperwork home with her, she just assumed she would have to do them here. But Bobby did trust her, and she lived with Evan now, so it wasn't as if she would take them or share them with anyone. Bobby trusted them both and if Evan asked, he would gladly agree.

"Gather everything you need and I'll go clear it with Bobby."

Evan went to pull back, but he grinned when (Y/n) held onto his biceps and looked up at him through her lashes. Wordlessly, he held onto her hips and reeled her up to her feet. She swayed a little until she regained her balance and Evan kept tight hold of her and wormed one hand around to touch the base of her stomach.

It was still early days yet, early enough that (Y/n) could still wear her jeans and button them up over her stomach. And she had worn them today, tucking her vest into the hem so it covered the tiny, almost unnoticable change to her stomach. Evan had noticed the change already, how her stomach was firmer and starting to shift in shape and he couldn't wait for her to start showing properly.

They had just told the team since (Y/n) was now officially moved in with Evan, and everyone was over the moon for them.

"Are you sure?" (Y/n) murmured into his chest while she moved one hand to hold his wrist where his hand was tucked safely against her stomach.

"Yeah, I'll smooth it over with Bobby. Gotta look after you, eh?"

Running a hand through her damp hair, (Y/n) trudged from the bathroom towards the kitchen, her steps sluggish and bare feet tickling as they glided along the cold floor.

She managed a smile when she noticed Evan mulling about in the kitchen. She hadn't heard him come home while she had been in the shower. She walked up behind him, brushing her fingers across his lower back while she pressed a kiss against his bicep.

"Hi baby." Evan turned round, leaving the coffee cup on the counter behind him so he could reach out for (Y/n). She aimed for the fridge, but he didn't let her get far past him. Both his arms wormed around her waist and he reeled her back into his chest so he could tuck his face down against her neck and shoulder.

(Y/n) leaned her head back on his shoulder, grinning when she felt his hands splay out along her small bump.

"Lookin' good," He murmured into her neck while his thumb glided up and down her stomach. She was only in a pair of shorts and her bra. She'd just taken a shower and needed to find a dress before she got ready for her job at the station.

"Hm, hate to burst your bubble but I'll have to get dressed or I'll be late." (Y/n) cupped his cheek and tilted his head up so she could press a wet kiss to his lips.

"Late?" He murmured against her lips, taking another kiss and pulling her lower lip between his teeth until he could feel her groaning into his mouth. His hands squeezed her against him and he leaned over her like he was trying to merge them into one being.

(Y/n) knew what he was doing. He was worming himself around her, buttering her up because he wanted to be attached to her all the time. But (Y/n) couldn't be late for work.

"Work? The new supplies won't log themselves, you know." (Y/n) gave him one lasting, deep kiss before she broke out of his arms and moved to grab a drink from the fridge.

A smile wormed onto her lips when she felt Evan following after her like a shadow. But her eyes cast to the right when she looked at the dining table. The smile started to fade from her face and she stopped in her aim for the bedroom to trail her fingers across the stack of papers on the table.

"I brought the files home for you." Evan's voice was cool and collected and he peppered a kiss to her neck and glided his hand along the back of her thigh and up around her bum.

When she didn't say anything, Evan turned and moved back towards the fridge, seeing as (Y/n) didn't look like she was going to rush to get ready anymore. He found the milk and set about making a coffee. He'd just done a night shift into the morning and he needed coffee to keep himself awake or he'd be asleep in no time.

"Babe… why did you bring them home? Now I've gotta take them all back." (Y/n) dragged her thumb along the edges of the files, checking which ones he had brought back with him.

All the ones she would have gone through at the station. He knew her organisation skills well. But now (Y/n) would have to traipse them all back to the station with her.

"So you can audit them?" Evan grinned and shrugged as if it was obvious and he grabbed his mug and walked over to her. "I'll take them back when I go on shift in two days, Bobby won't mind."

(Y/n) turned around, leaning her hips back against the table while she folded her arms over her bump.

"I'll take them back, I'm going in today."

"Why, when you can just work from here?" The way Evan slouched back against the counter and crossed one leg over the other made (Y/n) feel a bit uneasy.

They were talking at cross purposes. The files belonged at the station. The only reason she had been auditing and sorting them here was because she hadn't been well. Morning sickness had been a killer, it still was, but at least (Y/n) had the energy to get out of bed and actually go out the flat now. She wanted to get back into routine, which meant going back to the station rather than having everything brought home to her.

And she could get back to college work tomorrow too. She had been doing her work from home for college, which had been a nice change. It was less stressful at home, but (Y/n) was more inclined to do the work when she was in class, and it was far easier to learn when listening to the teacher than reading hundreds of powerpoints.

"Because I feel better, Bobby hired me to work, not to be here carting files to and from the station." It was a lot of faffing about to keep moving all the files between home and the station, and it made (Y/n) feel like a liability. She wasn't employed to do things from home, she was supposed to be there in person sorting out.

Her head tilted back and she kept her arms crossed when Evan moved over to her. She watched him set his drink down on the table but when he clamped his hands down on her hips, there was something tight and almost fierce in his hold.

"Yeah, but you're pregnant now, and it's a lot to juggle college and the paperwork for the station. You've not been stressed while you've been working from home, so I think you should carry on and stay home."

A frown set into (Y/n)'s features as she stared up at Evan, something akin to confusion and a hint of annoyance burning in her eyes.

Being pregnant wouldn't stop her from doing her job effectively. She could still work while she was in the early stages, it would be when she was seven or eight months that she would need to think about taking things easy. And it was only paperwork, the worst (Y/n) got was headaches or an unease when she worked too much and ate too little, due to morning sickness. It wasn't exhausting work.

"Evan…" (Y/n) tilted her head to the side when he dived down for a kiss and her stomach burst with adrenaline when he groaned and kissed the edge of her jaw instead. His hands pulled her hips, tugging her off the table and into his embrace. "It's not exactly stressful, and I'm fine. I'm going to work-"

"The papers are already here." He ticked his head towards the papers on the table while his hands wormed down her back and slid into her underwear.

"Then I'll take them back when I go in on Friday."

"Why? Bobby agreed you can work from here, he's not bothered, so just stay home with me."

(Y/n) wanted to disagree. She wanted to argue and tell him that he couldn't just decide she was working from home or decide that she wasn't well enough to go to work. But he had already done it.

He had already brought the paperwork here and it seemed pointless to take the papers back to the station and then come home when she could just do them here. She was home, Evan was home and she could get the work done here and let Evan take them back in. He would be going back to the station before her anyway.

"Alright." There was no point arguing with him over this; what else could she say?

***

"I'm just saying, why go when you don't need to?" Evan shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out at his sides like he was calling a truce, but his words didn't exactly imply that.

"Because if everyone else has to then so do I. I can't just be that one girl who never bothers to turn up for class, Evan."

(Y/n) pressed her hand against her back, just to the side of her hip so she could click her spine into place and ward off the ache in her lower back. Her other hand moved to her temple and started massaging in circles where a headache was beginning to form.

This wasn't fair.

Evan couldn't pretend like this wasn't going to be an argument or like this wasn't a problem.

(Y/n) wanted to go to college, she didn't want to do all of her lessons from home like Evan kept suggesting. She was only twenty weeks pregnant, she had a lot longer to go yet before they would have their baby and in that time (Y/n) wanted to do as much as she could at college. She wanted to attend classes and lectures and do the work with her professor rather than staying home to do it and sending the work over email.

When she was eight months pregnant she would be working from home and she was going to be given a break from studies once she had the baby. It was all in her hands, she could decide how long she had off from her studies, but (Y/n) only wanted to take two or three months at the most. Because then she would just have to sit her final exams and hopefully graduate. Then she could stay off on maternity leave and find a job in that time ready for when she wanted to go back to work.

"You say that like you don't do any of the work. You're working from home, you're doing the lessons and sending in your work. And in a month you'll be on work experience anyway, so what does it matter if you don't sit in that class with people you don't even like? Just stay home."

Evan moved to perch down on the end of the bed, being mindful of the few books and notepads (Y/n) had scattered across the bed. He leaned his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together between his knees. He looked oddly calm, not the least bit perplexed about this.

And he wasn't.

He saw no need to get angry when he was telling (Y/n) the truth and he knew sooner or later, she would agree and come round to the idea.

"It's not that I don't like them, but it's not nice being the odd one out. But that doesn't matter, I'm at college to do the work and turn up, I actually want to do it you know."

(Y/n) dragged her hand up and down her back again and when Evan reached out for her, she shook his hand off.

She continued pacing in front of the end of the bed, the hem of her dress swishing and swaying with every movement and sharp turn she made. And when she glanced her eyes down, she bit her lip to smother a sigh. Her hand left her back and she tried to calm down enough to do up the buttons on her dress. Evan had undone them when he attached himself to her when he got home.

"You'll be less stressed." He pointed out quietly, squinting up at her while his lips quirked to one side, trying to get her to see this from his point of view.

"It's not about stress-"

"It is when you're pregnant and you're gonna make yourself sick worrying and overdoing it just to turn up, when technically, you don't have to. You've been approved to work from home and just go in once a week."

Evan stretched and sat back straight while (Y/n) stopped pacing, finally, and turned to stand in front of him. He began running his hands up and down his thighs while he raised a brow at her.

She would see it from his point of view soon.

She had already stopped going down to the station and let Evan bring all the work home to her instead. She had agreed that her college work was stressful enough without needing to spend all her free time at the station. It meant she could be home with Evan and rest and work on her own terms. And it meant Evan could have her to himself.

He didn't have to have anyone else at the station leering and watching her and she could stay home with him instead.

College would be the same. Evan didn't see why she wouldn't just work from home when she was already approved to do it. She could spend her days here with him when he wasn't at work. She could relax and be home and take it easy. She didn't have to go out, Evan could have her within his sights and make sure she was alright and know what she was doing each day.

It was easier. It was better. It was safer.

"Yeah, and everyone already looks at me weird because I'm the only one in class- in the whole year, who's pregnant."

(Y/n) didn't necessarily hate the people in her class, but she didn't meet up with them after class or call them her close friends. And they had been shocked when they started to realise her stomach was growing and clicked onto her being pregnant. No one else in their year was having or already had a baby. (Y/n) was the only one, and although she was happy to be pregnant, she didn't like the strange looks she got.

(Y/n) groaned when Evan reached out and scrunched the dress up in his fists, using it as leverage to pull her close to him until she was stood between his thighs. He raked her dress up so his hands could hold the flesh of her hips, no material separating them, and he leaned forward to press his lips against her growing bump, over the material of her dress.

"Ignore them; they're just jealous." He kissed her stomach a few more times before he tilted his head up and tested his luck kissing her cleavage instead.

He felt her shiver when he locked his heels behind hers, pinning her between his thighs. And when he pressed his chin into her sternum and stared up at her, he could see her starting to waver, starting to give in.

"Stay home with me, sweetheart. No stress, no weird looks or idiots in class, just you, me and bubba."

(Y/n) didn't want to argue anymore about it today.

She didn't have the will. She didn't have the strength or the energy to argue that if she didn't go to college, she would be cut off from everyone but Evan. She only saw the team at the station when they came over to the apartment or she and Evan infrequently went out with them after their shifts.

She didn't have a lot of friends and she didn't get along with many people in class at college. And (Y/n)'s relationship with her parents was estranged, just like Evan's was with his. Her parents didn't keep in contact, they paid more attention to her little sister than to (Y/n). All she had was Evan.

If she gave up going to college and resided to work from home, she would barely have any interaction or anyone else in her life. She didn't want to be smothered by Evan. His overprotective side was sweet, but it was starting to become controlling.

But he made valid points. She could work from home and have less stress, no strange looks and she could relax and do the work at her own pace. And she would be going on work experience soon which she couldn't do from home, she would be in a preschool class from nine until three, Monday through to Friday for a few weeks at least.

(Y/n) leaned back to let Evan stand up and she let him weave his arms around her waist and pull her into his chest. She let him swoop down and attach his lips to hers while his fingers dug deeper into her hips, squeezing her flesh and pulling at the waistband of her underwear.

Evan and their baby were all she had.

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #bobby nash #dark! buck

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fawnsflowerbed · 8 months ago

Text

♡ Picture Perfect ♡

A/N: COMMISSION FOR MY LOVELY SUNSHINE ANON!!!! Thank you so so so much for your support and patience my love, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!!

Content/warnings: Puppy! hybrid reader x Vendetta era! Leon, 2nd person (you/yours), fem AFAB reader, reader calls Leon daddy, very grump x sunshine, lots and lots of fluff, a moment of angst and realisation but it all gets resolved :3

Word count: 7700 est. (sweet jesus)

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Leon hadn’t gone to a shelter expecting anything. An act of service, he told himself. That’s what this was. Entertaining the idea of adoption. Like people who drop loose change into charity boxes, the ones by the cash register with scuffed edges, to feel better about themselves. Right now he feels like the scuffed one.

‘Go to the shelter,’ Chris said. ‘Hybrids make good companions,’ Chris said. He was vouching for his fellow soldiers at the BSAA, stick-up-the-butt men with trained military hounds. And judging by the posters hung on the windows outside the pet store, satisfaction was guaranteed. So he expected to enter a building of colourful lights, cheery music, and happy hybrids as far as the eye could see. Fluttering butterflies, sunshine and rainbows. Just like the commercials on tv.

What a heap of shit. A smelly one, too. Big, steamy, stinky load of it. Those flyers were all smoke and mirrors, and let’s just say this was one hell of a broken mirror. The place reeked of bad luck. At least the stalls were cleaner than his conscience. Should he have actually done his research for this, even if it was just for appearances? It wasn’t the worst place in the world for him to go looking, right? No, right.

Leon had seen his fair share of hybrids in his time at the DSO. Missions where he took them out of labs, stopped genetic modification. Sick bastards they were, people prodding rabbits with all kinds of needles. Yeah, he enjoyed taking those types of operations down.

But he’d also seen the ones trotting around the office on occasion. Trained to sniff out B.O.W blood, or health herbs and antibiotics. And yeah, he was intrigued. Had watched the training rounds, memorised the starting commands, noted the stiff tail and hard gaze on every breed there. So he figured he may as well take a look at the less hard-ass offers.

God, what a mistake that was.

How had the mighty fallen so far? He’d planned to walk the dusty concrete floors with pride, to look down at the row upon row of hybrids only to decide no, he did not in fact, need a pet. A companion. A friend, a lover, whatever. No rabbits, no puppies, no kitties. He was too old for this shit. He’d seen it all before, lazing black cats and bouncy bunnies. Nothing stuck out to him, he’d tried. He could at least say he tried. From then on if anyone asked why his face would sink into a frown watching his coworkers bring in their happy-go-lucky hybrids, he had an open opportunity to rub a calloused palm over the salt-sweat skin of his neck and mutter that he tried.

That’s what mattered, right? Sure, that’s what mattered. He tried. He kept that thought in mind as workers tried introducing him to some of their more ‘respectable’ species, the fluffier cat girls and boxier dog boys. None of it was for him. All of this was a lost cause.

And then there you were.

Next thing he knew he had the thought of you living at his house stuck in the back of his head. Not just the back, though. No you’d left handprints - pawprints - over every fissure of his brain, burrowing into the ventricles. Now you were doing two little circles before settling into his cerebrum, digging at the surface to bury down nice and deep. Maybe bury a bone there. Extra comfy.

He’s stuck.

You’re a cutie. Pretty as a picture. A fine should be plastered across that sweet face for even existing, a paper bag over your head. It’s a crime for anything resembling you to exist, because otherwise Leon would’ve picked up every hybrid on the street. Those puppy-dog eyes pierced right through his soul like a bullet to the chest. And he left his kevlar vest at home, too. What a mistake.

A floppy eared thing, fluffed to the max, your tail tapping aimlessly behind you. Bored. Lonely. They kept the pup hybrids in separate kennels when the little kids weren’t here to meet them, so you were on your own. Eyes as big as saucers, he was sure they’d have popped out of your head by now like one of those squeeze toys, the ones you squish so they squeak something reedy and awful.

Glossy. You looked dejected, sad. Hopeful yet hopeless. In his mind he saw you bounding through long green grass in the dark night, nipping at fireflies between golden giggles. Watching you paw at the sky aimlessly, beckoning upon lightning bugs so you might try and ‘accidentally’ catch one in your mouth. You were made to be loved by someone.

It hurt. In a way you reminded him of his younger self. That cop, once bright eyed and bushy tailed, now decaying and withering into the husk of a human he was now. The one that burned down with the rest of whatever was left of Raccoon City.

And yeah, he wasn’t proud of this shelter specifically being his only pick of the bunch, there were hundreds he could’ve picked from. But this was a boot-out shelter, AKA they only hold onto hybrids for so long before kicking them to the curb. Just the thought of you, your fluffy self out on the streets..

He couldn’t let that happen to you.

And then those wet eyes fell on him and your tail swished quicker, your ears perking. Like a heartbeat picking up, a skipping pulse. You’re playing jump rope with the veins to his heart, his BPM’s music to those fuzzy ears. And that tail? Oh it’s swaying to the beat.

Something in your body seemed to click at the sight of him. It was an instinct, a switch flicking in your puppy brain. If he were in a movie this would be the part where time slows down and the camera focuses on his face and your own, panoramic view of the environment you both found yourselves in. Your face behind the bars, slowly shuffling your way towards him in curiosity.

That’s when he knew he had to take you home. Surely he was a better choice than the other scum that might get a hold of a soft thing like you. And you seemed sweet. So it was settled.

The paperwork was easy enough. Signing on dotted lines, signatures to his left and right. Handing over his credit card for the chance at ‘friendship’ or something like that. The only thing he truly recalled was leaving with you in the backseat, curled up against the car cushions.

Change. That’s what this would be.

You were well behaved. Quiet, too. At first anyway. Leon’s whole life had been thrown into disarray and all he had to do was give his credentials to some lady with a blurry nametag, confirm he wasn’t a psycho murderer or trying to Cruella DeVille you for your ears and tail. Which he absolutely didn’t have the time for, so no need to worry about that factor.

It only took a few hours for his house to be filled to the brim with new puppy gear. Collars and leashes of different colours (he couldn’t decide on those), squeaky toys and stuffed animals, comfy clothing, food and water bowls, and of course one of those playpens to lock up overnight. Leon wasn’t entirely educated on how to take care of you. Was he supposed to get you a room, a proper bed? How human was he supposed to treat you?

The overall adjustment period was fast, for you anyway. Sure, at first you’d gone all timid when he brought you home, staring up at this well-built, shaggy man in a leather jacket like he was about to lock you in your cage forever. Might be a poacher, your brain scrambled together, or one of those mill owners. Yeah, he looked the type. But as soon as you heard him whisper a “Well hey there, sweetheart,” in your direction in hopes of coaxing you out of the backseat you were set and smitten. And in case he was still hesitant, you gave him a pretty clear giveaway on how you felt. After he’d set up your cage in the living room, packed full of blankets and pillows atop your pet bed, and watched you practically dolphin dive into the sea of plush, it became clear you were truly just happy to have a home. You were happy to be with him.

Not like you spent many days in that puppy bed anyway, it only took a few days for you to come whimpering at Leon's feet in the night to climb under the blankets with him. And of course, he caved. How strong could you expect a man to be? Not to mention the stuffed toys you brought with you every time you hopped up, he’d become familiarised with all their names by the third week.

Sure, it’d been tough for Leon in some areas, but in some ways it was also easy. You brought solace where you went, and you knew better than to overstep boundaries. He found out quick enough that you didn’t entirely know what to address him as, ‘Leon’ felt strange for some gut reasons but ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ were too formal, so you immediately leapt to daddy. Which, of course, caught him horrendously off-guard. Almost sent him into cardiac arrest the first time you yipped it in his direction, a plaque of cholesterol, fat, and an unbelievable amount of cuteness clogging his arteries.

The worst part? After a few days he found himself enjoying it. Had his heart fluttering when you giggled it out as he ruffled your ears, rolling onto your back as he gave your belly an affectionate rub. Was he sick for liking it? Sure. He needed a doctor, stat. Symptoms included being extra ready to get home from work, planning his meals more thoroughly, and catching himself daydreaming more than usual. The diagnosis was a fluffy tailed sunshine puppy who trotted around behind him 24/7. A sweet shadow, a nosy thing. Prescribed treatment? Lots of cuddles, apparently. Cuddles, and plenty of daily shenanigans.

On one particular day he caught sight of you padding through the hallway slowly, looking up at all the photos he had hung upon the walls. Drinks with Claire and Chris on his birthday where he (begrudgingly) attended the surprise party they’d set up. Standing in the Whitehouse with some old man in a fancy suit. An old picture of just him sat atop the table below it all, his graduation photo from the police academy. He didn’t have the heart to throw it out. That was merely one of many old-news trinkets scattered around the house, objects that told a mixed story of Leon Kennedy. Well, now it was the house of Leon Kennedy and his puppy girl.

With a soft thud you sat your cute butt down on the floorboards to simply.. Stare. Examine, memorise, imagine what it was all like.

Maybe his hair was softer in this photo, shaggier in that. Darker features and rougher around the edges, as if someone had switched from watercolour to graphite, defining his jaw. More stubbled and strong now, with a broader frame. Like watching a tree trunk even out, sprouting tough branches, leaves coming to fall over his eyes in bangs. He needed a haircut soon.

However, in that moment of watching you, he knew he’d made the right decision. He saw it in the way the silhouette of your tail swished in interest, how your flopped ears perked up an inch whenever you focused on the finer details. Most of all he loved that signature puppy head-tilt. He got one of those whenever you didn’t understand what he was saying, be that garble about his work or the lulled out words from whatever book he read to you as you laid in his lap.

Yes, you laid in his lap now. And it was starting to feel so normal to him. The wagging tail in his peripheral vision, your eyes peeking up at his desk in his study. It all came so naturally, including the moments of chaos. One of which was the messy dance of getting you bathed, or dressed.

Baths. God, you stood your ground on baths. As soon as you heard the pipes squeal you took off like a rocket. Zoomed past the potted plants, darting through the backdoor if you could make it in time. Leon had to scoop you up mid-sprint as you wriggled and squeaked to get out of his hold, and shit did you run fast when you felt like it. Oh sure, you dragged your feet to snails-pace when you had to leave the park, but suddenly his puppy had the legs of a trackstar when it was bathtime. Once he actually had you in the warm water it was a whole other thing. You just couldn’t sit still for the life of you. Thank god for bath toys, or else you’d spend every second giving your flapping ears and soaked hair the signature wet dog shake. He turned his back? Shake. Reached for the shampoo? Shake. Went to turn the faucet on? Shake. He’d honestly rather you do that than try to jump out, and at least you got extra comfy with him when it came time to towel dry you. The last time he tried the hairdryer method you’d snapped and barked at the hot air like it was a personal affront, as if the loud hum was cursing you out in its own fan-whirring way. Then came the clothes.

On a good day he could wrangle you into a shirt of some kind (usually one of his own) and a pair of fluffy shorts with a hole in the back for your tail. On other days it was a tug-of-war fight over a v-neck because it’s obviously an invitation to play and growl between giggles and not Leon seriously begging a quiet “Baby- honey, no- Please, sweetheart, Chris is coming over and you can’t be butt naked, listen to daddy-”. Sometimes he really thought those floppy ears were just painted on. God, you were a little menace.

Luckily you were also adorable. Sure, a little dull, but so damn sweet. He couldn’t count how many times he’d pretend to throw a ball, watching you go sprinting out across the floorboards, slipping in your socks, in desperate search for it. Then it’s the head tilt, a routine trot around the coffee table, and sitting in the hall with a quiet whine. Vanished, poof, thin air. Gone. Not to worry, cause soon Leon calls out an ‘Oh look!’ and the ball has magically teleported back into his hand to your shock and awe. Pawing at his hand and begging him to explain how on earth he learned such witchcraft.

But there were a few things that threw him off guard about you, even after settling into this routine. For starters, your face. He didn’t mean that in a harmful way, he promises. Cross his heart and all that. But you were just so… gentle. Bright. Sometimes he found himself squinting at the sheer shine of you. Made him wonder if you came with batteries that just never got removed, corroded into place after years of chasing your own tail. Stuck on this constant sunshiney state with no way to power down.

And you were manufactured in some lab, a biological anomaly even he couldn’t wrap his head around. A person who wasn’t whole and yet was so much more than that. You contained multitudes, brought life and colour in ways those others may see a ‘normal’ never could. The pitch of your bark, your hatred - and he meant hatred - of squirrels, how fast you leapt at the opportunity for a ride in the car. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was proud to be the one to bring you home. That he was the one to trace the curves of your hand, to rub your ears, to hold you in his lap while watching late-night tv. This was good for him. This was good for both of you.

Day after day he found himself adoring you in a new way. A week ago he’d have dropped his head in his hands at the sight of you nosing his morning slippers towards his feet in the wee hours of the morning, now he can’t help but smile sleepily. Lopsided and scratchy from his beard. Because despite the energy threatening to burst from your body, you still took the time to sit and wait for him to get up.

He was a weak man now. A trained government agent was trailing behind his puppy girl in a pet store as you insisted on getting specifically that bunny with those ears cause it looked like the one that ran outside the living room window every day. And he listened to every ramble about said rabbit as you trotted to the cash register, plushie in mouth.

He’d fallen. Hard.

Time had passed in the blink of an eye before either of you could process it. Seasons blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, and soon enough Leon found himself with a cuddle buddy more often than he did an empty bed. The feeling of your nose nuzzled into his shirt, strings of happy whimpers and whines mumbled from your sleepy lips, it all became his white noise. You’d made very quick friends with the sprinklers out in the yard by the time summer had rolled around, jumping back and forth over the swinging water in an attempt to catch it in your mouth. All Leon had to do was sit on the porch and watch in adoration.

What you both seemed to adore much less was when Leon left for work. It had you pawing at the windows with screeching nails, teary eyed and howling when he got home extra late. He didn’t have the heart to lock you up when he left, something about it made his chest strain. His poor girl, stuck in her little blanket cave, wondering where her daddy went. Pawing aimlessly at the wired frame, chewing on the gate between whimpers. He couldn’t bear the thought. It ached, in fact. You were hurting his heart without even doing anything.

But the past four days had been a nightmare. His first long term assignment since adopting you. Sure, Claire and Chris had done their best to entertain you since you couldn’t just be left home alone, plenty of toys and games and walks, but it just wasn’t it. You’d pace in little circles, whining and crying and crying and whining. Hours spent drying your tears with cooing and shushing from the Redfield siblings only to burst the pipes and sob some more. It was no use. Until he came back.

And now he had. After so many days (a million, you’d told Claire) without him, he was home.

The sound of his motorcycle - that he’d retired from everything other than work for obvious reasons, vis-à-vis your sensitive ears - was a dead giveaway, and soon enough you had your cheeks squished up against the front window yapping away till your vocal cords strained. God, wasn’t that a sight. Face lifted into a glowing grin, ear perked up, tail a wagging mess. You looked like a whirlwind had been stuffed down into a body, and you were ready to tear through his home. An oh so dangerous fuzzy tornado on the hunt for endless snuggles and belly rubs to swallow up, up, up into your cyclone of love.

You were gorgeous. You were adorable. You were everything he didn’t know he needed. He’d hardly stepped foot in the house and you were already jumping up to try and kiss and lick at his face with a thousand puppy kisses, tail wagging so fast you might just take flight. Like one of those cartoon dogs from those 80’s shows, ones Leon still can’t name to this day. That was the other good thing about all of this, you made him laugh. Chuckling hoarsely as he pushed past the door only to be met with your arms wrapped around him excitedly.

“Daddy, you’re back! You’re home! I missed you!” Yip, yip, bark. You were melting his heart, almost running yourself into the wall at the sheer buzz of excitement thrumming through your body.

Oh, how he’d missed you, rubbing that tender spot between your ears with a kiss to your hair.

You’d made him soft. A side of him he never knew existed came out when he got you.

“I missed you too, pup.” He could only shake his head with a tired grin, dropping his bag at the door by the coat rack and shoe cubby. He’d had to buy one since you’d developed the habit of stealing his slippers to use as makeshift mittens. “Be careful where you’re walking there, honey.”

You were too busy babbling away about everything you’d done while he was gone to hear him properly, from playing a gazillion games of fetch to daily trips to the park. How that chipmunk had purposely ticked you off so you pawed at a tree trunk yapping at it for a good 5 minutes. And of course, how you’d almost managed to finally catch your tail. Looking up at him with so much pure puppy love with every step you took backwards through the hallway with a quickly wagging tail. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, you’d just missed him too much.

That tail of yours though, it was out of control. Swish, swish, wag, sway. Mind of its own. Too happy to have your daddy home to focus on anything else. Pure puppy love.

During your ramblings as Leon slowly worked at his shoelaces and zipper, all you could do was emphasise how happy you were that Chris had caved and let you visit the cafe downtown. Whilst mid explanation about what a ‘puppuccino’ was and how spectacular it tasted, the sudden smack of your fur against glass had you jumping in surprise. It seemed you’d collided with something in the midst of your excitement. The impact was followed by a loud crack, one that had Leon’s head pulling up to a swift stillness, no longer worried about getting his boots off.

“What was that?”

There’s a concoction of emotions in his voice. A cocktail of worry, concern, and an off sternness. He’s hardly ever been stern with you. The last time he had been, the sad look on your face had him faltering. Usually he was so comfortable with being stern, it flowed freely through his body like the familiar warmth of whiskey. It was something he was so used to. But he wasn’t used to those glossy eyes tearing up at him. He was just a man, after all. And you were his puppy.

That thought seemed to elude you both right now though, jolting to step away from the broken picture frame, looking down at the damage you’d done.

“Pup, are you-”

His academy graduation photo. You’d smacked it with your tail, and the frame had snapped.

All the colour drained from Leon’s face in one fell swoop. His calm, tired gaze ripped wide into one of shock, kicking his shoes into the shelves with a harsh thud.

“No- no no, no- shit!” His voice was a boom, it was loud and uncontrollable. Shaking the plaster of the walls with rolling thunder, his eyes zeroed in on the shattered glass, lightning crackling behind stormy blue eyes. Usually they looked so clear. Usually he was clear, his intentions and his love, how he was trying to and learning to get used to this life. And for a while he really was. “Goddamnit!”

And then this happened.

And it was scary. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it frightened you. A dead giveaway was how your ears flattened against your hair, once wagging tail now dead still and tucked between your legs. You’re cowering.

You were afraid.

But Leon didn’t notice. No, this was the end of a short fuse after a long week of work. A flame to the stick of dynamite Leon Scott Kennedy sometimes found himself to be. This was not what he wanted to come home to. He was too busy pulling at his hair in a nostalgic wave of guilt, of horror clawing up his back, staring at the mess.

The mess you’d made.

Cracked fingers pick at the shattered glass in hopes of salvaging what he could, the sharp edges slicing at the flesh that had grown tender with your touch.

You’d made him soft.

Had that been a mistake?

It must have been with the way he flinched back, cursing under his breath. Shards of the frame bit at his fingers as if in anger, snapping dogs of his past. Not like his pup, not like his sweet girl curled up in the corner, wondering if this meant he hated her.

That wasn’t the worst part.

Right across the top corner of the photo the paper had been scratched, ripped by a stray piece of glass. Slicing through the date he’d graduated. The day he thought everything was going to start getting better way back when. The sight had his whole body frozen in place. Bracing for something to happen, because something always happened to him. The feeling building from his belly to his chest, from his chest to his eyes. It was sickeningly familiar. It was a bullet to Leon’s shoulder. It was the click of a lighter to a cigarette. The screams from an Eastern European church. His bloodied fists against Arias’ face. The mole in his unit.

It was the gunshot that ripped through his family home.

That’s what really set him off.

“This was the one thing I had from it all, this was it! The one good thing!” Rambling like a mad man, someone you’d watch talk to himself on the sidewalk late into the night. “And it was in such- such good condition. It was perfect. It was all perfect before you- Damn it, pup, why couldn’t you-”

By the time he’d finally turned to you, his words screeched to a halt. Brakes squealing at the velocity of such a hit, a surprise, he could feel his heart overturn. Rolling haphazardly down the highway. He couldn’t stop it, because he caused it. He caused such an accident. So busy running on empty thanks to work that the dried out tank had crushed beneath his feet, crunching steel caving so easily. Weak. You were weak for him. He was just only seeing it now.

He’d hurt your feelings, whether he meant to or not. Over an accident, no less.

He was the reason your body was quaking in fits similar to that of a leaf atop frozen winds. Why your eyes were shot open, glossy and round, like the first cracks in the icy pond at your favourite park making way for water. And you looked like you’d plunged through the surface.

Maybe the most awful detail of all was the fact that Leon simply didn’t know what to say to make this better.

Licking over his chapped lips, the air in his lungs seemed to dissipate. He was left breathless, and not in the way he usually liked to be. Not like when he watched you pick at the dandelions in the backyard, or when you chased your tail in circles to the point of dizziness. Someone had trapped him in a vacuum of consequences, leaving him to face them. To face you, you and those big puppy-dog eyes threatening to flood with tears. “Look I didn’t- Oh, c’mon. You know I didn’t mean it like-”

It wasn’t working. His words were getting caught in his throat, pulling a tense cough from his chest. As if the answer was teasingly scratching at his vocal chords and no amount of water could wash it away. He could feel his chest tighten, any trace of anger or frustration being flushed from his system. Now he could think clearly. He could see how heartbroken you were.

The biggest giveaway was how your body leaned in the direction of the living room without thinking, braced on your toes. An instinct dug deep beneath those layers of fuzz and the warmth of your hand in his own. Something to be left untouched, like a toy you’d buried in the backyard, under pile after pile of soil and past traumas.

Now Leon had dirt on his hands. The clouds in that stormy blue seemed to clear out, the moonlight streaming through the window like a lighthouse reflection. He was seeking you out, trying to let you know it was clear. That you were safe.

It just wasn’t enough.

“Hey.. Hey, no. Honey-

It was no use. He’d blinked and you were gone, left with the echo of your sock-clad footfalls against hardwood floors. Every step beating in unison with his pulse, his ears rang to the rhythm of your rushed breaths. Now you were the one pulling him along on a leash. Tugging at the weak retractable cords of his heartstrings, you’ve wrapped him around a tree once, twice, three times. His head was spinning, a splitting heat sizzling in his frontal lobe frying the edges of his mind until they curled.

Rubbing a hand over his face, smearing the guilt from cheek to cheek, up to his forehead. He was swimming in that grief. Mourning a time before this one, praying for a reset button. You had such a way of turning him inside out without knowing it, pulling his muscles and bone up from his anatomy to gnaw affectionately on his femur and nip at his biceps. He barely hid anything from you, he never felt the need to. Who were you going to tell? The mosquitos you stalked after with a batting tail in the cooler summer nights? Please. And half the time you didn’t really understand what was going on, anyway. So there was no harm in letting you lay your head in his lap while lounging on the couch, his voice a deep lullaby soothing you to sleep, aimlessly tapping your tail against the cushions. You were so pure. You didn’t mean any harm, you never did. Leon wasn’t sure you had one malicious bone in that cute body of yours.

How was he supposed to approach this, though? This had been the first major incident in your white-picket-fence-esque lifestyle. Did he go upstairs and change out of clothes dusted in gunpowder and shame? Try with a clean state so you had some time to yourself, some space? Is that what you wanted?

No. No, knowing your usually chipper clingy self that was probably the last thing you wanted. So he manned up, got his shit together. An unusual thing for him to say about himself, but he was in an unusual situation.

After shrugging his leather jacket off and leaving it to hang on the coat rack, he swore to leave his aggression with it. Tucked into the pockets and zipped tight, so he might save it for his next mission. There was no use in bringing shit like that into his home, where his girl was. So he’d let it gather like lint until the next time he washed it, then he’d let his conscience run through a spin cycle; in which he meant watching you do three little spins before settling into bed. You were better than any washing detergent, cleaned his slate better than disinfectant. They should sell your personality in stores, bottle your giggles for junkies to get hits off. You could be the next meth with how happy you made him, had him flying high as a kite.

And he’d made you so sad. He was your daddy, it was his job to keep you safe, not sad. Now he had to fix that.

Your playpen. It was a puppy’s dream to get the luxuries you did, most likely. Leon couldn’t help but spoil you with everything soft, plush and velvet. It matched you. And watching you lay in front of the window, squeaky toy mid squeal lodged between your jaws lazily, was worth all the money in the world to him. Everything you did drove him nuts, he was starting to realise why so many people suggested getting a hybrid. Leon hadn’t understood what the deal was until you arrived. And now? Oh, he needed a lobotomy at this rate, because all he could think of was you. Work? You. Driving? You. Hell, his breaktime at the office made him miss the way you’d yell ‘Are you doneeeeee?’ at him from down the hall, awaiting your allocated cuddle time. You had him chasing his own tail, and he didn’t even have one.

Draped in a paw-print blanket and stuffed full of toys, the sides of your food and water bowl lovingly chewed on. Always sinking those canines into whatever you could. Well, whatever you could that wasn’t out of the question. Shoes were a big no no, the sprinkler system too, Leon was sure to make that clear. Not like the water tasted any good from it, anyway.

With a quiet grunt (he really wasn’t getting any younger) he slowly kneeled down, denim brushing over varnished wood, peeking through the open gate of your pen. Despite having both feet on the ground - well, rather two knees - this still felt risky to him. Not like disarming a bomb, more like negotiating a hostage situation. Taking your hand in his own to lead you away from himself.

He kept his voice soft, quiet, as gentle as someone of Leon’s stature and nature could be. Like asking a wolf to hide its fangs, but he did his best.

“Hi there, darlin’.”

He always did his best with you.

Well, almost always.

No answer. Just the sound of your meek panting, sniffling between breaths. Tears making every inhale salty in your nose and on your tongue. You always preferred it sweeter. He hated being the reason your mouth felt off, watching you run your pink tongue along your cheeks as if trying to get the taste out. At least you were still awake. Amidst the darkness of your cage he could see you buried under a mountain of blankets, digging yourself in like a tick. Head burrowed in tight, he felt like even if he tried to gently coax you out by the body you’d keep shuffling along into the plush. He’d have to stop this from the root, twist and pop you out gently. So he tried that with words.

“You wanna come out of your little cave there?”

The brief whimper that passed your lips was enough of an answer for him, no words had to be spoken for him to catch on. He sighed.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair enough. Daddy was a bit of a dick, huh?”

The slight movement under piles of pink and yellow told him your tail was wagging, and that made his heart hurt even more. It was bleeding through his shirt at this point, darlin’. Don’t do that to him, he’s too old to deal with this kind of pain. Might just kill him one of these days. Because even after he’d snapped at you, broken down the walls of trust you’d both spent months building, you were still reaching out to place a new brick down. To keep it all from crumbling. Leon rested his palms on the scuffed denim of his jeans. Sure, he’d done his schooling, graduated and all that, but now he found himself searching the corners of his mind for the right words. Like he was putting a puzzle together, trying to piece syllable to noun to verb until they clicked. But they didn’t exactly click. Then again, nothing ever did with Leon.

Except you.

“I didn’t.. Mean what I said. I just cut myself off at the worst time possible. I wasn’t thinking. Da-” he paused himself for a moment. Fuck, it’d become a bad habit. Was it still okay to call himself something like that in this kind of situation? “I’m not very good with words. M’ better with actions, y’know. Making things, helping people. I’m not exactly a wordsmith here, darlin’.”

There was a rustle. In the darkness of your pillows and blankets you found room to move. And he could tell it was closer to him from how the pile slouched in his direction, indicating the shifting of your body. You looked a bit like a molerat to be honest, an adorable one, or one of those prairie dogs, with the way your head makes an evident dent in the covers. He wouldn’t tell you that, though. Might take it the wrong way.

Out pops your fluffy ears, the silhouette of your tearful face. His stoic demeanour over the years shatters like that same photo frame, how the hallway’s dim lighting catches in your glossy eyes. It’s like looking at the moon in all her solemn sadness, amongst the stars, alone.

He can’t leave you like that.

“Hi, baby.” It’s a whisper. He’s too scared if he talks any louder you’ll huddle back up. He never wants to make you worried, or frightened, or anything really. He loves you just the way you are.

“Hi..”

Leon had no idea how much he’d missed that voice until he heard it for the first time after a long lonesome 20 minutes of silence. It’s an icepick to his frozen mind, chipping away those worries he had of you maybe never talking to him again. You were a sweet thing, but also sensitive. It was part of the reason he cared for you so deeply. You’d dug down under his skin, doggy-paddled through his blood stream and settled comfortably right on his heart.

“..Are you gonna, y’know,” Through the dark haze of shadows and soft rain against the windows, he could see you fiddling with your fingers. You’re nervous. Voice small and isolated, muffled through your soundproofing of comfy blankets and soft stuffies. It only made his head ache more. “Take me back?”

That one threw him off guard. He wasn’t expecting that kind of question, if anything he thought you’d ask if you were still in trouble. “Back? Back where?”

“..The shelter.”

He couldn’t see his own face, but he could just imagine how it twisted in confusion. “What? No, darlin’.”

“Oh..”

Yeah. Oh. So that’s what all of this had been about. It wasn’t just him yelling, it was the thought that you might get boxed up and shipped back. Kicked to the curb. Leon pictured it again, your shivering frame on the street, or back in that damp kennel surrounded by yelling dogs and strict meal times. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Cause I broke something, and I was too rowdy.. I can’t sit still..”

The very reason he’d adopted you in the first place was to save you from that life, one of struggle and pain and sadness, yet you still feared it. Solely for, what, acting like a puppy? The very thing you were a hybrid of? If he weren’t so worried about you he’d be pissed at the world in all honesty.

“Baby, is that how you ended up there? Did someone..” He had no time to finish that question before you were nodding. You looked so ashamed, it ripped him in two. Someone had shoved his heart through a paper shredder and used the strips to line a hybrid play-pen floor.

Returned, handed off, a hand-me-down. That’s what you saw yourself as. Damaged goods. His voice cracked as he muttered softly, his face painted in nothing but sympathy. “Oh, puppy..”

Almost instantly a ball of fluff came barrelling out of the playpen right into Leon’s chest, a winded ‘oof!’ puffed from the man’s ribs. Could’ve cracked them with the force of your love. Softer than any cannon ball, fuzzier than any bullet. Yet you still managed to have him coughing out a chuckle, his nose nuzzling up into your hair. He couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. Because it was a sure sign that you didn’t hate him.

“There’s my girl.”

A meek whine bubbled up from your throat at the sheer joy of being back in your owner’s embrace, enveloped in his comforting smell. And Leon couldn’t resist resting his chin on your head as you sat crumpled in his lap. A scarred-over hand brushing through your hair, rubbing bruised thumbs over the soft velvet of your ears. Every touch, every loving gesture had your tail whipping against the floorboards. You truly were his good girl. Still sniffling, you tilted your head in that sweet puppy way to look at him properly, taking in the face of the man who you loved more than anything; yes, that included treats, walks, and toys. It was quite the accomplishment, an honour really. Leon should be proud of himself for that one.

“M’ sorry..”

There it was again, always saying sorry for things you didn’t mean to cause. Sometimes things you didn't even do. He shook his head at even the thought of that. Not scolding, but shushing. Like he didn’t want to hear you apologise for something that was hardly your fault. “Sweetheart, hey. It’s alright. I can always get a new picture frame, it’s no problem. What I can’t get is a new puppy. Wanna know why?”

Of course you did, that was a silly question. But he loved watching your ears flop as you nodded, made his pulse flutter like he had a butterfly in his veins, or a hummingbird. Humming away to the steady thrum picking up in pace. “Cause there’s only one you. And frankly, I’ve already called dibs, so I’m not givin’ you up for anything.”

That seemed to settle something in you, the pace of your tail picking up to its regular happy thump. Large hands encased either side of your head to brush over your fluffy ears, the velvety texture smooth under years of scarred tissue. And that fresh cut he had yet to bandage up. That could be done later, though. Right now he was more focused on plastering a hello-kitty bandaid over your heart. Leon was bad at this stuff, real bad. If there was a class for hybrid owner’s he’d have been expelled in seconds, set a new world record. Because even after having you with him for months he had to admit, he still had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to make that clear, no point in lying to you.

Gravelly voice turned smooth and soft, someone had put his whiskey rocks through a blender. He was a slushy now because of you. A messy, overpriced, alcoholic slushy.

“But I wanna try my hardest to make you feel loved here. Because believe me, you are. You and all your.. Energy, let’s say. You’re my fluff ball, aren’t ya?”

He doesn’t need words, words aren’t a strong suit for either of you. So he settled for the affectionate lick to the cheek you gave him, followed by your high pitched whine when you snuggled down into his lap with wiggling hips. Makes a huff of laughter rumble from his chest, not like the thunderous yelling you once heard. This was that of a car’s slow movement, of white noise to sleep.

Because at the end of the day you were each other’s peace.

Lips press to your hair in a gentle manner, and Leon found himself nuzzling his nose down against your own.

“Yeah you are. You’re daddy’s best girl.”

It’s a balm for the wounds on your soul, settling into his arms like you were made for them. Manufactured with his name printed across your heart where no-one could see it, you’d just had to find him. And now you had, and he had no intention of letting you go. If he could, he’d velcro you to his body.

Yeah, Leon swore he’d never let you go.

And he might be a bastard at times, but he made good on his promises.

The next week you were walking past the hall of photos, the one Leon commissioned of you and him out in the backyard was already hung. The outtakes of you sprinting off to chase a squirrel mid-shutter are his to keep tucked in his wallet, though. For the longer work days or boring lines at the DMV, all that shit.

But the formal one, the proper one, is right above the new frame you insisted on decorating for his graduation photo. Complete with smiley stickers and paint and hearts he’d carefully exacto-knifed around to give a clear view of his picture. You’d jumped around like a bouncy ball when he was cutting the excess sticky paper away, little yaps of ‘Is it done?! Is it finished?! Can I see it?!’ like you hadn’t been the one to seal it in glitter glue in the first place.

And honestly, he loved it. Like you were leaving your pawprints on his past, making a new path of swaying tails and giggling fits to lead him with a tugging leash into his brighter future. Like you were meeting an older version of him. One before he became a little more bruised, a little more cold. But you’d helped chip that down with your tugging paws and cute canines.

He was softer now. And he’d decided yes, that was a good thing. Meant he was more suited for you, more tender with you.

“C’mon, babygirl. Wanna go for a walk?” He already knows the answer. But watching you skitter on your feet to sprint towards him never gets old. Wagging tail and voice chirping.

“Can we get a pup cup on the way back? Please?”

Because if that freshly appointed rookie cop version of Leon could meet you, he’d be just as in love with you as he is right now.

“Aw I’m not made of stone now, am I sweetheart?”

And he’d agree, that new frame looks much better.

Consider buying me boba!

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breadandlottery · 1 month ago

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I think I'm going to make people upset but let's go Do you think Gi Hun has grown in terms of character development? In my opinion, what bothers me most about round 6 is the lack of significant growth in gi hun because he doesn't seem to have lost several people in the first season he remains naive I expected an improvement or development from a person who has already won the games. I would like you to answer me, I love your analyses.

My dear anon, apologies in advance for what is sure to be a very lengthy response…

I would like to say first that this is a tough question for me to answer with confidence since we haven’t seen season 3 and because it feels a little like a season 2A and season 2B situation.

I’ve been working through scenes that I’m flagging in my mind for moments that should have raised red flags for Gihun but, from what we’re shown, didn’t. As I often tag ramble about, I do hold out some hope that he had legitimate suspicions of 001 and a loose backup plan. I have also noted that, interestingly, s2 does not have any of the flashback/realization scenes we were given several times in s1 and honestly, that feels very intentional? Like we’re supposed to notice it’s missing (I also have thoughts about ADHD Gihun, but that may just be me projecting because I’m real familiar with the exact kind of lightbulb moments he has, lol). My hunch/hope is that the show has been misdirecting us to make us believe everything you just said about the apparent lack of character development.

Now, I do think there has absolutely been character evolution. I can understand fans not seeing it as “development”, because I think we tend to think of character development as positive growth, but honestly, it doesn’t have to be… like a villain arc is still character development (just an example, I do not think this is a villain arc situation). I think instead of a lack of character development, I’d be more apt to call it a lack of “learning his lesson” or a lack of apotheosis (the point of realization/epiphany).

If we view squid game as monomyth/hero’s journey, he’s kind of not to the point yet where that would have happened (because the end of S2 would be the abyss?). Now, am I certain that the story being told is a hero’s journey? No, although I am somewhat confident.

So— I'm working under the assumption that we have a hero’s journey told in trilogy format. We have a LOT of comparison media out there… the Matrix, Star Wars, LOTR, among the most popular. What does the end of the middle installment of all of these have in common? They’re bleak af.

Matrix: Neo unconscious, Agent Smith breaking into the real world

Star wars: Luke battles Vader and loses his hand/almost dies, Han encased in carbonite

LOTR: Gollum’s betrayal, battle of Helm’s Deep (a win but with an ominous warning accompanying it)

The psuedo trilogy structure is where I do feel slightly perturbed at netflix for passing off a split season as 2 separate seasons. With a “real” trilogy, each component should be able to stand alone (like with 3 act structure-- set up-> conflict -> resolution) which is true of the examples above because the primary narrative conflict is actually resolved but super not true of squid game s2. Which means s2 and 3 combined could be the middle of the trilogy, with the mystery future season being the final part, but I don’t know that that’s in the cards.

As an aside, we could just be totally wrong about the direction this is going in. Narrative arcs that involve the protagonist “learning a lesson” isn’t a universal concept. I always think of James Bond movies (especially the older ones) as an example of a “flat arc” character, because like, if you sleep with her she’s probably gonna die James, didn’t you learn this last time? If you’re too reckless there will be consequences, didn’t you learn this last time James? Like. That guy never learns. Not every character learns from their mistakes. Do I think Gihun is ultimately gonna be a flat arc character? No. Is it possible? I guess, man, look at the world, anything’s possible!!

So, ugh, sorry that’s a ton of speculation and uncertainty that isn’t directly answering your ask, but I do think that any of these possibilities can explain what we’re calling a lack of character development because we’re just not at that point in the story yet.

NOW.

Personally, I do think that Gihun is very perceptive, and I hold out hope that he wasn’t as trusting and oblivious as we’re made to think. I also believe that even if that is the case, he’d still have further to go/more development needed before he could actually reach the end of his journey. The reason for this (and I think one of the reasons people sometimes think of him as not smart) is the narrowness of his worldview. Not narrowmindedness, just literally not having broad knowledge about the world. Like not knowing where Pakistan was. Or not really getting that neither he nor the Frontman have the power to end what's happening because it is a symptom of a much larger, systemic problem. And in complete fairness to this sweet man, lack of perspective and a narrow worldview is an incredibly common flaw in people.

So a few things that can be interpreted as Stagnation or Lack of Development:

Still a gambler: as seen in Russian Roulette and in going back into the game. Definitely risky, definitely reckless. He is like kinda suicidal though, so I don’t know that the underlying cause of this behavior is the same as it was in s1.

Still just out here trusting everyone: Yeah. That’s what he does, though. He came right out and said it, he doesn’t do it because he thinks people are trustworthy, he does it because what else is he gonna do? Is this a dumb-as-shit approach that should be “character-developed” out of him? Or is it a very important key defining feature of who he is as the hero of the story? I could go either way on that, tbh.

Naïve/easy to fool: I don’t think he ever was all that easy to fool, I think he consciously chose to let a lot of things slide and/or second-guessed his intuition because people called him stupid and slow all the time.

Things that I think are Character Development

Ability to Focus: Maybe I’m ADHD projecting again, but this guy was all over the place in the beginning of s1, now he’s running a whole ass operation (maybe the medicine Mr Kim brought over was secretly adderall lol).

Leadership: I’ve said all along he just naturally exudes leadership, but he wasn’t really aware of it or comfortable with it in s1. In s2 he’s really embracing decision-making (even if they’re bad decisions) and seems comfortable being the one planning and leading, which is impressive.

So. To sum up a very very long answer:

I do see character development, if not the “hero finally learned his lesson” kind

I do still think it’s possible that Gihun wasn’t quite as clueless as we’re shown, and I’ll cling to this delusion until at least June 27th lol

I think it’s possibly too early in the narrative for his full revelation, anyway, but-

Part of why that feels “off” is because s2 is missing the “last Act” of the story it was telling (like don’t split a sequel in 2 and try to shoehorn it into a trilogy if it’s not an actual trilogy please for the love of god it throws off the balance)

#nice human #anon #squid game #squid game meta #squid game analysis #characterization #character development #more capital T Thoughts about the narrative #i will say that everything i know about hwang dong hyuk makes me trust him to take the narrative and the characters exactly where they need #to go #is any of this at all accurate or am I just blinded by my unconditional love and devotion to the character #the world may never know #analysis

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alwaysmicado · 6 months ago

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Hi Love!!, love your works! Do you have your request open? Or if you just open to my insecurity talk🫣😅, well i’m curious about your take on reader’s insecurity on their boobs *shocking* by their real life’s average size theirs are bigger (that’s the first insecurity) and by the online’s appearance (like how social media and corn looked to them) theirs are just not the type that is appealing (in their opinion) well if it’s too much i’m sorry and the world is still going on and the sun is still shinning if they’re just accept it is what it is. I love your works, have i said that? I’ll say it again, im justt ugh im loving it to the point of i need to consume it everyday, and i love you thanks for your masterpieces!!

Anon, I’m kissing your forehead and holding you close 🤍🫂 Thank you so much for your support! I’ve had my fair share of body image issues, so I get it, BUT I want you to know that you’re beautiful, your boobs are amazing just the way they are, and there’s zero reason to feel insecure.

Your body is part of what makes you, you—and that is wonderful.

In His Eyes

1.8k | Dieter Bravo x f!reader | 18+

Warnings: insecure!reader, fluff, sweet!Dieter, sex talk A/N: My mind went straight to Dieter somehow...he just strikes me as a tits guy. Happy reading! 🤍

The glitzy world of Hollywood feels like another universe, a place where everyone is unnaturally beautiful, perfectly polished, and always on display.

Ever since you started dating Dieter, that world has been closer than you ever expected it to be. It’s like being constantly thrown into the deep end of a pool you didn’t even want to swim in, surrounded by model-like women who make you feel smaller by comparison.

It’s not that Dieter makes you feel this way—he’s actually a lot more down-to-earth than you’d expected for someone who is, well, Dieter Bravo. But the groupies, the social media influencers, the actresses at those Hollywood parties—they make you feel it.

Like no matter how much Dieter is into you, there’s always going to be someone thinner, prettier, younger, with smoother skin and...nicer tits.

You’ve always hated yours.

They’re big, heavy, not the gravity-defying, perky kind you see on social media or in porn. There’s some sag, stretch marks that remind you they’re real, but not what’s considered “ideal.” Dieter’s never said anything about it, but lately, it’s all you can think about. Every time you see him surrounded by those women, it gnaws at you, leaving a pit of insecurity in your stomach.

You’re sitting on the couch in his apartment, your phone clutched in your hand as you scroll through Instagram, heart sinking with every photo you see. Dieter’s out at some event—another movie premiere, another round of beautiful people all posing for the camera. You hadn’t felt like going tonight, too overwhelmed by your own self-doubt to put on a dress and act like you belonged in that world.

You try to shake the feeling off, but it lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Why does he even like me? you wonder, staring at a picture of some model with a perfect hourglass figure. What’s stopping him from being with someone like her?

The door opens, and Dieter steps in, still looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, his tie slightly loosened, a lazy smile on his face.

“Hey, babe,” he calls out, kicking off his shoes as he makes his way over to you. “You should’ve come. It was a circus, but the drinks were free, so...you know, could’ve been worse.”

You force a smile, closing out of Instagram and setting your phone down. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. I’m glad you had a good time, though.”

Dieter pauses, eyeing you for a moment before plopping down on the couch beside you. “You’ve been ‘not feeling it’ a lot lately. Something wrong?”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just...stuff. It’s nothing.”

“Come on, don’t give me that,” he says, nudging you with his elbow, that familiar grin on his face. “You think I don’t notice when something’s up? You’ve been avoiding these events like the plague, and now you’re sitting here in the dark. That’s not you.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush it off or tell him the truth. Dieter’s easygoing, playful, not the kind of guy who dives into serious conversations. But he’s also observant, and you know he won’t let it go.

“I just...” you begin, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately.”

Dieter’s grin falters, his brow furrowing slightly. “Insecure about what?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “About...me. My body. My boobs.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the words hanging heavily in the air. You brace yourself for whatever reaction might come, but Dieter just blinks at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate.

“You’re constantly around these beautiful women,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “These perfect, gorgeous actresses and models and whatnot...and yeah, sometimes I feel like garbage compared to them. Especially...I mean, my tits aren’t...”

You trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. You expect Dieter to brush it off, to laugh it away or make a joke. But instead, he shifts, turning to face you fully, his expression surprisingly serious for once.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” he says, holding up a hand. “You’re feeling insecure because of them? Because of all those...what? Barely legal models and influencers who’ve already had ten plastic surgeries by the time they turned eighteen? Babe, they’re literally paid to look like that. That’s their whole deal—selling a fantasy. It’s not real.”

You glance down, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you again. “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier when it’s all I see here. I just...I can’t stop thinking that one day you’ll realize you could be with someone like that instead of...me.”

Dieter stares at you for a second, then lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Your stomach twists, and you can’t help but wince. “No, I’m not kidding. This isn’t funny to me.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry.” He reaches out, grabbing your hands, his grip warm and grounding. “I get that you’re serious. But you’ve got this all wrong.”

You frown, unsure of what he means, but Dieter leans in, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his voice lower and softer now. “You think I’m into you despite how you look? You think I’m sitting here going, ‘Well, I guess I’ll settle for her, even though there’s all these other women’? That’s not how this works, babe.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “Yeah, but all your exes had–”

“Let me be crystal clear,” he interrupts, squeezing your hands a little tighter. “I’m with you because I wanna be with you. And that includes your smart mouth, your amazing brain, and your beautiful body. Every part of it.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you still can’t shake the doubt. “But my boobs–”

“Are fucking perfect,” he cuts in, his eyes flicking down to your chest before meeting your gaze again. “Jesus, how many boners do you need to give me just from existing in the same vicinity as me before you start to believe it?”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “You’re a dork.”

Dieter lets go of your hands and moves closer, his fingers sliding up to gently cup your face. “I may very well be, but I’m also serious. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his again, his voice steady and insistent. “I’m a shallow, sex-obsessed, movie star, right? If I wasn’t into every inch of you, why the hell would I still be here?”

You crack a smile at his self-deprecation, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. “I dunno. Maybe you love other parts of me and take the bad with the good?”

Dieter groans softly, leaning against the couch, his hands dropping to your waist. “You don’t really believe that, do you? And, okay, you want me to be brutally honest?”

You nod, unsure but curious.

He smiles, his fingers grazing your waist as he speaks. “Every time you walk into a room, the first thing I notice? Your beautiful face, your radiance, how you light up the whole damn place with your presence. It’s like you pull all the air out of the room, and suddenly, there’s just you.”

“Oh, stop it…”

“I’m serious,” he insists, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips. “And then, a millisecond after that? Your tits.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Of course.”

“They’re amazing. Like, out-of-this-world amazing. They’re real, and soft, and they’re part of you. And trust me when I say, I’m not looking at anyone else. Not like that.”

His words are sinking in, but part of you still struggles to believe it. Unfortunately, the insecurities you’ve harbored for so long won’t just vanish with a few compliments, no matter how sweet they are.

“But I’m…never gonna look like the rest of your…friends or whatever. And it makes me feel like an outsider,” you say a little quieter now. “And I know you love me, and I know I’m too old to feel this way, I know, but I just…do.”

“Why would you want to look like them, though?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Um, what kind of question is that?” you ask incredulously. “Because they’re beautiful and successful and–”

“Fake,” Dieter interrupts bluntly, cutting you off without hesitation. “Airbrushed, filtered, and half of them are so miserable they can’t go to sleep without a cocktail of Percocet and vodka knocking them out. Trust me, I know.” He’s serious now, the playful tone gone. “Their lives? Their bodies? None of it is real. It’s smoke and mirrors, and it’s fucked up that it’s sold as something desirable.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. His hands move up, resting just below your ribcage, his gaze unwavering as he speaks.

“You’re real, babe. That’s what I want. I’m not interested in some blow-up doll version of a person. And even if I used to be into that, or if that’s what other people want—so what?” He leans in closer, the look in his big, warm puppy eyes making your heart race, clouding your senses. “I’m with you now. Because I want you. Because you’re the one that gets me out of bed in the morning and keeps me up at night.”

“Thank you, Dee,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, your heart swelling. You wrap your arms around him tightly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. His familiar scent and warmth surround you, comforting you in ways words alone can’t. His hands find their way to your back, gently rubbing, soothing.

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing against your ear. At last, your mind is calm.

“You know I’m constantly daydreaming about your tits, right?” Dieter murmurs suddenly, catching you off guard like only he can. “Playing with them for hours on end, burying my face in them, licking them, sucking on them…pressing them together and fucking them. Or just watching them bounce while you’re on top of me.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at how shameless he is, but your body responds to every word. “Dee…”

“It’s bad, okay? Can’t even really jerk off to porn anymore…I think you broke my brain, babe.”

You chuckle and pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “Be careful, or I might just start believing you.”

“Yeah?” he grins, his hands never leaving your body.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, feeling the heat rising between you. “But I think I might need a little more..convincing.”

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