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hp-hcs · 9 months 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

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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 · 2 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 · 3 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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sophsun1 · 2 days ago

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just wanted to say i love seeing ur gifs whenever it pops on my feed like ty for being so talented<33333 love ur work

hey anon!

tysm for being so sweet, i'm glad that you are enjoying them 💛

#soph asks #kind anons make the world go round

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alwaysmicado · 1 month 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.”

----- Thank you for reading! 🤍 Masterlist | inbox

#inbox #lovely anon <3 #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fluff #fluff #dieter bravo the bubble

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pennyblossom-meta · 2 months ago

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If L ever had a lover/soulmate and was discovered by Light, what countermeasures might L do?

Thank you for the question, dear anon!

This one's a really interesting one and I had to do some research in order to give you a well rounded response based on canon (mostly the manga, but also with a dash of extended DN lore). I'll add my own conclusions on the specific lover/soulmate case as we go.

I'll preface this analysis by saying that, if we take Spiraling Trap into account, then L's lover would be of extreme importance to them, if not the most important person in L's life — perhaps even above Watari. One of his sweetest quotes from the dating sim actually alludes to this state of mind:

For your sake… I’d think of a way to get through anything. We share a bond.

If L had a lover, he would very much be smitten. Despite all his flaws, his sometimes complicated, hyper-focused behaviour, he would dearly cherish this bond and do everything to keep it.

It's important that we look at L's thought process here as the opposite of what he did with Kira. While L gradually de-anonymizes Light before the world, he would progressively anonymize his lover so as to keep them safe. It might not be to the degree that he made himself to be a ghost, a letter on a screen, but it would be a pretty thorough process to minimise any fallout.

Now, L would take his lover's safety as a constant, high priority task. I imagine he'd be paranoid to the point that he would often run hypothetical scenarios where he'd assume the role of a criminal and try to find information about his lover.

These would range from medical records to high school grades, primary school pictures, etc. He would know exactly what kind of data about his lover was available to the public — and where to find it, in digital or physical form. Do they have family? Pets? Friends that could be tracked or paid to talk? He'd be on top of all this and investigate it through the several angles of cryptography and computer security.

When the Kira case starts gaining prominence, I imagine he would take the utmost care to delete all sensitive information pertaining to his lover from public records, though he might keep actual medical records safely encrypted somewhere only he could access. As for records stored at, say, school, in physical form — like a CD — he would likely have Watari steal them so they could be destroyed. I don't believe he would ask anyone other than Watari for this task, as that could raise unwelcome questions from a third party.

L's greatest fear would be that Kira might kill his lover. Given how secretive he is, perhaps the only way that Light might gain access to such information would be if L allowed his lover to accompany him during the case. Just like L protects Watari, Aiber and Wedy's identity, he would likely never introduce his lover as his actual lover; rather, he would make up a fake name for them and a role. I also imagine he would struggle with the decision of bringing them along and might've acquiesced because a) he wants them nearby or b) they've left him no choice because they want to keep L safe (and be supportive in whatever way they can, depending on their background and profession).

So, in this scenario (manga, again), Light would need to meet L's lover sometime between the months April-November 2004 and figure out who they really are. It would almost give L a heart attack (pun intended); he would blame himself for his recklessness, backtrack every move, run scenarios to make sure Light couldn't find anything to kill them. After Rem appears, L would absolutely forbid them from being near Misa.

Beyond this, there isn't much that L could do at this point. Short of bringing Kira to justice, the most he can do is prevent his lover's personal information from being handed to Light on a silver platter. He may remove his lover from the case entirely if they were discovered, though. But he would definitely plot to cut any loose ends that'd bring Light straight to their lover's private sphere.

There's also a chance that Light would kidnap L's lover and torture them for information, but it's highly unlikely.

However, I'd like to ask the following question: what does L do to protect himself and those closest to him in canon?

01: There are no photos or images of L anywhere, especially at To-Ho

From: Chapter 28 - Judgment

One of the things that immediately jumps to attention is how secretive (and well prepared) L is under any scenario. During this particular moment in the main story, we witness L's caution when it comes to allowing others to keep any photos or video records related to him, going as far as instructing the Task Force to destroy all photos of themselves. In essence, he wants them to erase any and all images that can lead to the Second Kira identifying them to avoid their murders. Their digital footprint or social media (what was even Japan's version of MySpace in 2004?) should be gone as a security measure.

We also discover that L goes to the trouble of deactivating the security cameras at the hotels he's at so they don't capture his image. It's a huge stretch, but a necessary evil when you're L, the world's greatest detective, always one step away from being killed by criminals.

What about L's love interest/soulmate?

As mentioned before, L would make sure that his lover's information would be hidden or removed from public access. This would give him a head start to protect them from Light (and Misa), as the only way they'd be able to get the lover's name would be through the Shinigami Eyes or by parting with the information voluntarily (like Naomi Misora did).

Like L, they would also not have their image recorded when moving around hotels. I can imagine that they would also leave through the hotel garage or back door in order to avoid bumping into undesirable individuals.

02: Watari, Aiber and Wedy are anonymized — until L's death (and Watari's)

From: Chapter 59 - Zero

Arguably, one of L's biggest mistakes towards Aiber and Wedy was leaving their personal information available for the Task Force in case he died. I assume that the "All data deletion" protocol was solely regarding the case itself, and that there were branches of information that Light acquired after L's death which were not meant to be seen aside from himself.

There might've been other criminals whom associated with L that Light killed. My educated guess is that L would've been more careful with his lover's personal information and had it deleted along with crucial data about the case. In case he died and they lived, he would've taken that precaution. Both Near and Mello also have no photographs of themselves available at Wammy's (or in any record).

03: And as a small bonus of L caring about his associates...

From: Chapter 43 - Black

Utilitarian L may be, but he's not a robot devoid of feelings. He does care about his associates and seems to be on good terms with Aiber. With how careful he is those who work for him, I'm positive he would climb mountains to keep his lover safe from harm — especially if danger came in the shape of Light.

Hope this answered your question somewhat!

#death note #l lawliet #death note meta #anon ask #watari #light yagami #aiber #kira #l x oc #l x reader #lxoc #l death note #death note game #spiraling trap #death note: spiralling trap #death note headcanons #l headcanons #l lawliet headcanons

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runningfrom2am · 9 months ago

Text

cold nights // part fourteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: finally reunited ahh!! (also a note from me while i'm trying to find pics for the header: damn this dude does not look happy very often huh) (okay so update we're settling for a flashback photo bc coryo in his curls era does not SMILE bruh)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Just right here." Lucy Gray stops on the gravel road, nodding up to the house in front of them.

"Okay, sweet." Sejanus smiles, already heading for the front porch but she grabs his arm, stopping him as Coryo just stares at the house, going slightly pale.

"Sejanus, how about you and I go figure out where you guys will stay, and come back for Coriolanus in a bit?" She offers, nodding toward him.

"Oh- uh, yes. Yeah. Good idea." He agrees, picking up quickly on what she meant. Coryo still hasn't said a word, just staring at the run-down shack that apparently was your home. It was clear that efforts were made to maintain the home, the fence had been patched in several places and there were flower beds outside. From what he knew about your family, that would make sense.

"Coriolanus?" Lucy Gray draws his attention again. "We're going to go find you a place to stay, and we'll come back for you in a bit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah that's... that's perfect. Thank you." He nods, in a trance-like state as he makes his way up to the door through some only slightly overgrown grass, before he has the chance to second-guess himself.

"He didn't even listen, did he?" Lucy Gray says, both of them watching him from the street.

"Not at all, no."

He can hear the two of them chatting as they disappear back down the road, and he looks for a doorbell that doesn't seem to be there, just settling for a knock instead. He waits a few moments after knocking on the wood, about to do it again when he hears a woman's voice come from inside. "One moment, I'll be right there!"

"I got it, Ma!" Comes from right behind the door as footsteps approach and it's swung open, a young boy standing there. "Hi." He says, eyeing Coryo up and down. It must be your brother.

"Uh, hi." He clears his throat. "Is Y/N here?"

"No, not right now." The boy answers. "Can I take a message for her?"

"Oh, well, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and-"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" The woman's voice comes again, much more excited as she rounds the corner from the hall, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You're Coriolanus?" She asks, a polite but delighted grin on her face as she gets closer.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nods in confirmation, a smile growing on his face. You look so much like your mother.

"Oh my goodness, come in, please! I didn't recognize you!" She gently moves her son out of the way, who is still staring at him with something unwelcoming behind his eyes. As soon as Coryo steps into the home, she's wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Wow, it is so lovely to meet you! You came a very long way!"

"I did." He chuckles, hugging her back with as much politeness as he can muster behind shaking hands and a pale face.

"Come sit, Y/N will be home within the hour. She'll be just thrilled to see you." She pulls away, gesturing for him to follow her into the living area. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. Let me grab you something." Your mother says, mostly to herself as he sits down on the couch.

"That would be great, thank you." He smiles, still nervous as he tries to adjust his posture on the slightly uncomfortable sofa, looking around. In reality, he hadn't been "starving" for some time now. It felt good to have a consistently filled fridge all the time, but he has hardly eaten since they left the Capitol. He was too nervous to even think about it.

"Why did you come here?" Your brother asks, making Coryo look away from the family photos that adorned the walls. Most of the frames were broken, photos blurry, but he could tell that to your family that didn't matter.

"I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Coryo answers, stiffened by your brother's somewhat hostile energy and the thought of getting to see you so soon. Had you told him something you didn't tell your mother? Probably that he killed that boy, but it seemed unlike you to leave out the part where he had no choice. Unless Tigris was wrong.

Unless you still didn't see it that way.

Your brother hums, sitting in the chair across from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees. To Coryo, this felt like an interrogation. Coming from a teenager, it was almost cute.

"Lennox, Honey, can you come help me for just a moment?" His mother calls him from the kitchen and he's shooting up again, glaring at Coryo as he walks away. He was confused, today alone he's gotten so many mixed signals on your feelings.

You stuck out the day at work, even though while you were reshelving returns you had to rush to the bathroom in the back to vomit after reading the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans. You were hoping by now this would happen less and less, but leaving the house had only made it worse. Getting a job was a mistake and you knew that, but your family was hardly scraping by before you were torn from your life- but neither of your parents could work the whole time you were gone. They were sick about it. Your mom still couldn't work, and you knew your father rarely ever slept these days.

You tried to hand over the winnings Coryo's Dean had given you as soon as you got home, holding it out to your parents with trembling hands as they opened the locked door for you. They wanted none of it. Not a dollar from your three thousand, which you had spent time counting and recounting on the train. They only wanted you home. You had hoped it would give you something else to talk about- that you could smile and be proud that you won and that now your family could live comfortably, at least for a little while. The idea almost made it worth it. As you counted your prize under the dim lighting in the train car, you had wondered if you would do it again for them. The money didn't make saying hello again any easier, though, and you cried for what must have been hours on the porch of your family home, the four of you tangled together in a hug bound together by tears.

It was hard to let go, but when they had, finally, your mother shoved the money back into your pocket and told you to save it. One day, you could buy your own home with it, and that wasn't a bad idea.

All you could do for them now that your money sat in a jar in your closet, the best you could do, was convince them you were fine enough for you all to move on and forget about it. The additional income of getting your own job helped, too. So, when your boss tried to send you home, you declined, and five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough.

You drink water out of an old jam jar on the way home, washing the taste of bile out of the back of your mouth. The fresh air made a world of difference. As much as you adored the smell of books, it got stuffy in there, especially in the summers. Even with the sun beating down on your shoulders over your button-up shirt, you felt better just making the walk home every day. The breeze blowing through the trees, the familiar paths beneath your feet, it was one of the very few things that could ground you in the reality that now, you were safe. That, and the meadow behind your house at night time. Reading under lantern light with the stars overhead and your family at your side, you never felt more real. It was truly over.

That's what you would do tonight, you decided, after a long nap following an unfortunate day. At the end of every unfortunate day, you still had that, and that meant the world to you.

"Oh! Here's Tybalt." Your mom smiles, now comfortable on the couch next to Coriolanus as the cat saunters into the living room, jumping up into the space between them. "This is Y/N's cat, she calls him Tybs." She explains, tears forming in her eyes as the cat crawls onto her lap and she quickly blinks them away, but he had already noticed by then.

"She told me about him." Coryo says, placing his now empty tea cup on the coffee table in front of them.

"Of course..." She chuckles sadly. "He took real good care of us while she was away. On particularly... hard nights," She clears her throat. "He would come out into the living room with her father and I and sit with us, he can purr like no ones business, you know, and then after a while, he would run over to our room there and meow at us. Made sure we got to bed. Then curl up with us and just made sure we knew that.... she was still with us."

A tear falls as she speaks and she laughs nervously, quickly brushing it away. "Gosh, I am so sorry..." She quickly dismisses it. "We have company and I'm crying like a little girl. Forgive me..."

"No, it's quite alright." Coryo insists, shaking his head. Of course, he was worried about you in the arena and every night up until then, but he never entertained the idea of what it was like for your family even though he knew about them. That under the same sky, they were sitting here in this very home praying that you might return. Now, he could see it, and you were the lucky one who made it home. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Jessup's family while he was here. "It must have been awful for you."

"Indeed." She nods, wiping her cheek again. "But, you know, it means so much to us that she had someone there to look after her." She smiles at him. It's genuine. Sad, but full of gratitude. He would no longer wonder where you got that habit from. "I decided I wouldn't be watching anything, but her father insisted. He was out at a bar in town, the only one with televisions, then came rushing back in the door twenty minutes later and dragged us back there with him to watch. I didn't want to go but he said 'No, you need to see this. She's not alone. She has a friend.' So down we went, and they were playing reruns of the two of you being dropped into that cage. I just... She looked so comfortable with you. The way you looked at her we could see you cared, that she was human to you, and that you were there to help. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe she had a chance." She's accepted her tears now, reaching over from petting Tybalt to grasp the young man's hands in her own as she spoke.

Your brother scoffs as Coryo lets her hold onto his hands, a small smile forming on his face that's quickly torn away by Lennox's reaction. "Yeah, and then that other boy had to be the one to bring her something to eat after days."

"Hey!" Your mother gasps. "Lennox, get-" She prompts him to leave if he isn't going to be nice.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to leave.

"I didn't have anything to bring her besides a flower." Coryo finds himself stating, shocking even himself at the confession which halts your brother in his steps. He had never told anyone about the poverty he faced at home, but with them, he felt safe to. Something about knowing you assured him that they were not judgemental people. He clears his throat before explaining. "My family lost everything after the war. When I first met her, I also hadn't eaten in days. I gave her everything I could."

Lennox hums before leaving, either not convinced or embarrassed that he'd even made such a comment. Coryo couldn't tell.

"Coriolanus... I am so sorry." Your mother is quick to apologize, and he's embarrassed by the look of pity in her eyes. Pity from a woman who had, for almost a month, believed she had lost her child, and was still struggling with it today. He felt nothing but guilt.

"Well, I must tell you, your daughter saved us from that." He tries to lift her spirits as a confused expression paints itself into her features, but he doesn't get the chance to elaborate as they both turn at the sound of the front door opening.

"Ma!" You call out, closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, preparing your smile to tell her about the absolutely great day you just had.

Your mother stands quickly, patting the boys thigh gently and wipes her eyes. "Hi, Honey, how was your day?" She asks, smiling at him through red eyes.

"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day." Your groaned response comes slightly muffled from the other room, and Coryo can hear you shuffling about.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Immediately your mother's tone shifts to worry, and Coryo wonders how it took her less than a second to understand.

"Nothing, Ma. All is fine." You call back, putting your bag down in the kitchen, and heading for the living room, gluing a smile back on. "Guess what I saw on the walk home! A ladybug, it landed right on my-" You freeze as you walk into the entryway, seeing your mother and your previous mentor just standing up next to her.

"Oh, I should have mentioned, we have company." Your mother smiles, already gathering the used dishes from the coffee table, and brushing past you to bring them into the kitchen. Likely, to give you two a chance to talk.

When Coryo lays his eyes on you for the first time again, he can swear his heart stops. Yours definitely does as nausea comes over you in a wave again, and your calculated smile drops.

You don't say anything, just staring with an expression unreadable to him. "Y/N, hi." He breathes, smiling at you. You look beautiful but tired, still. Still, that girl he watched in the arena, it was hard to believe that every part of you made it out. You weren't the same girl he saw for the first time in the reaping- you were more. More of you, and more of something else; hurt, if he had to guess.

"It's good to see you." He continues, his voice a gentle whisper that cuts through the awkward tension in the room. Your heart races, emotions swirling like a tempest within you. Coriolanus Snow, your mentor and friend who had guided you through your time in that Capitol and the games, is standing in your living room, looking both apologetic and hopeful.

"Coryo," You manage to say, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the sickness rising in your throat. The memories flood back- everything awful you had gone through. Meeting him for the first time as he handed you a flower, sitting on opposite sides of the bars of your cage and talking long into the nights. Everything you had done, everything he had given you, the people you both hurt in the process. He takes a step closer, cautiously navigating the fragile space between you.

"I... What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to meet his gaze. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in on you quickly.

He clears his throat, a nervous habit you remember well. "I wanted to see you," he says, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't know what you were up to and how you were adjusting and... I was worried about you."

The weight of unspoken words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to bridge the gap that only a month of time has built. You had been away from him longer than you had known him, and facing him again, you were embarrassed. Scared. Coryo takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to express the weight of what he's carried in his mind for too long.

"I never stopped thinking about you," He confesses, sincerity etched across his face. "I tried sending letters but I didn't get any response."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors your own, and the air crackles with a shared sense of everything you want to say but just can't find the words. You can't help it as you feel over and over again the countless hours spent together in the lead-up to the worst days of your life.

Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, a silent plea for connection. As your fingers take his, warmth floods through you, dissolving the distance. "I missed you," he admits, his voice barely audible.

A rush of conflicting emotions surges within you- that same embarrassment, anger, hurt, but also a flicker of the fondness that never truly faded. "I missed you too," You admit, your voice breaking through the emotional dam, built up from fear and trauma and the stacks of books in your bedroom that held it back all this time.

With those words, the barriers crumble, and the room is filled with a pitiful silence. The weight of what you had both done begins to lift, replaced with the realization that he did honestly care for you, the way you did for him. As you look into each other's eyes, the connection is undeniable, evidence of a bond that time could never change. You would always be connected to him.

"Do you remember when I brought you that blanket?" He asks and you take in a sharp breath. The few pleasant memories you had of your time together were so often overthrown by the awful ones, these days. His eyes flicker quickly across your face. He looks as scared as you feel. "And I said I wish I could get to know you as you are, not as a tribute, and you said you would show me the stars."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod, the nausea you felt steadily subsiding. "So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing. I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away."

Coryo tilts his head at you, and smiles. That must have been a yes. "Please, don't walk away again." He whispers, and in that moment, he feels the tightness in his chest that carried him through the last month finally release.

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#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #tbosas fanfiction #thg series #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo x you #snow lands on top

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honestsycrets · 1 year ago

Text

exclusive | [miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader]

❛ pairing | fuck buddies: miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader (background pairing)

❛ type | one-shot, explicit

❛ summary | miguel learns his fuck buddy is fucking Hobie and feels some type of way about it.

❛ tags | heavy jealousy, somnophilia, fuck buddies, multiple partners, undisclosed sexual relationship, dubious consent: aggression/revenge, sloppy seconds, f!reader, lying by omission, spanish is not translated, an attempt at MLE, break ups, eating kitty, bit angsty, older hobie in this piece, break-ups.

❛ reqs fulfilled | Hey! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to know if you'd be down with writing something about Miguel x Reader who has been whining for his cock all day, crying and trying to run from it when he finally gives it to her? & where reader loves him but he doesn't, only for him to eventually fall in love but its too late because she's moved on, or vice versa

❛ sy's notes | here's for the anon that requested i release it. hope you like it, lil buddy.

Miguel wakes early in the morning.

Lyla usually woke him up with a Hey Miguel, Miguel, You have a meeting Miguel-- something teasing and aggravating all at once. That morning his room was so silent that he could nearly feel the heaving and dropping of a second heartbeat. His vision strains as his eyes take focus on the pitch-black room. He takes up the bulk of the bed with his large frame while the pillows are strewn over the floor. Your complaints of-- You never come to find me, you always ignore me. He quickly remembers what happened last night. Your legs were intertwined in his, scaling him like he was another bed in of himself.

"Lyla, what time is it?" he asks, massaging the crook in his neck. The world is quiet in his room. Out there, he knew there would be one problem after another. As soon as he peeled himself from the comfort of your warm embrace. Your legs intertwined in his, keeping him in the warmth of his bed, a spider's web of its own. He hates that he doesn't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. He knows he's in deep.

"About--" she pauses, "Nine o'clock?"

"¿Las nueve?" he shouts, pushing himself up on his thick forearms. "Damn it, Lyla!"

"I would've woken you up sooooner," she draws out in a long tease. "If you weren't too busy pounding your novía until three in the morning."

"She's not my girlfriend," not yet, he bit out, unpeeling your warm legs from his core. A brush more and he would have another type of problem to deal with that morning. As nice as it would have been to lay back down and wait until sleep released its tight grip on you, he had obligations.

"Yeah," she scoffs. "Okay, Miguel."

Lyla knew what he wanted. He wanted this. You-- to help make him forget the past and the future. To forget all the awful things that haunted him day to day. You could do that. He feels your sleepy eyes on him as he turns to sit up in his bed. Your heavy eyelids are cloaked with the ache for sleep. Or half-lidded in fervor for another round. He isn't sure which, yet.

"Te quiero, Miggy," he knows it isn't love you're talking about. Early in the morning, you need sex. He knows how insatiable you are even without your hands slinking around his muscular thigh, inching their way where they had no business going. He cups your hand and pushes away from his softness, knowing he has no time to spare getting worked up. Distracted. It's time to work.

"Manaña. Go back to sleep, I have things to do."

"Tomorrow? I'm not a tomorrow kinda girl, Miggy. " You're that kind of woman-- needy, achy, you need more from him. No matter how much he gave you with attentiveness and care, he could never give you enough. Your words are clear as you turn away, pouting. Miguel throws a look over his shoulder. "You're the only one who treats me like this."

There's the fit. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face as he gathers his bearings. You're slack against his back, lips curling into a pout at his suggestion that you'd simply have to wait for more attention.

"No empieces," he throws back. "I spent the night with you two nights in a row."

"To get off. Hobie's right about you. You'd never go to a show'a mine."

If there were ever an interloper in your relationship. It was, and would forever be, Hobie Brown. The displeasure on your face gently pulls at his heart. He's never been to one of your shows before. He's never even asked. It never seemed important to you until now.

He could do that.

"Where and when," his stomach roiled with something he'd distantly call anxiety. There was a truth to what Hobie said, he couldn't be a good boyfriend and take care of spider society all alone. He'd sure as hell try. If you thought Hobie was better, so be it. Miguel wrinkled his nose, concern lining his bushy eyebrows as he stood up, hands on his hips.

"Oh Miggy, that's just what I wanted. It's tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow, then."

Isn't that what he said earlier?

"Hobie!"

It doesn’t matter where it is, your eyes always seem to find Hobie. Ideally, Miguel would like your eyes to always find him. You spent the night in his arms yesterday and the night before that. Perhaps that was why you missed the spider punk. So when he walked into the meeting early that morning and dropped like a rock on the elevated platform you sat on, he wasn’t altogether surprised that you turned around to look at Hobie.

He was, however, surprised to see your hand slink along his plaid thigh, tugging on his lax suspenders. You're late, he heard you whisper. Yeah, what you going to do about it? Hobie reached out, letting his fingertips ghost lines up your arms. Miguel barks out your name, your fingers snapping back as if a spider bit them. They might.

“Oh my days, bruv, we gonna talk about this?” Hobie ripped off his mask, dropping it lazily by your hip. You swept it up and set it on your thighs. He suckled along the roof of his mouth, pulling his lip piercing in and out with a deliberate, slow hiss. “Or you busy watching my side ting?”

"Hobie," you willed him down. Your eyes catch and hold. "Shhh."

“Mans right pussywhipped,” Hobie balked out a laugh, bouncing at that awful word. His jaw tightened at the distinct sound of Hobie’s hands slapping your shoulder. Hobie is in a mood today. He wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t being picked on. “Look at him, is he serious? You mad, man?”

Hobie!

“I’m not.”

“I like the sound of that,” he could hear you whisper into Hobie’s ear, his senses more queued into small whispers than anyone else in the room. You rolled the word along your tongue. "Pussy whipped. You next?"

It was like he wasn’t even there. As if every moment you spent together was irrelevant. The days that the tips of your fingers grazed his shoulder blades, sweeping across his tight muscles. He remembered how it felt, your careful kisses on his neck after a long day, the drag of your nails across his muscular back as you took him so well on the desk he lectured at.

“You bugging? You know that's not happening. You ovulatin' today?”

Miguel prompts your name. You sit upright, his perfect good girl, a whole other person when you weren’t around Hobie. His brow creases and lines of worry and disappointment coalesce into a look that invites you to behave. You were listening now with a blow of a kiss at him as though that would deter him from finding out.

Miguel doesn’t like it when Hobie takes the piss out of him.

He especially doesn’t like that Hobie seems to know the intimate details about your body, like your cycle. That near the end of the month, every month, your sex drive ran wild. He thought it was a myth. None of the other women he had in his bed acted this way. You, however, were insatiable. If he didn’t know better… He flicked his fingers across amber screens, doing something he never did because he had no reason not to trust you. He skimmed your file.

Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life. Always at his damn concerts, clapping wildly at his old runway shows, drinking at the pub. You were an outlier dolled up in soft white, sparkling glitter makeup and darling strawberry blush next to a group of grungy anarchists and foul punks. On any given day, you might hold his head in your lap as your fingers coursed through his wicks. On special days, you buy new jewelry to change out the old. Every weekend, you like to sit on his lap in the pub of the week.

The others were negligible. He could excuse them. Hobie was something more. All it took was one offensive recording of sitting on Hobie’s lap in a seedy bar for his mind to turn red hot.

Despite being populated with many patrons, it didn’t stop you two from fucking in the bar after one of Hobie's loud shows. Others did the same exact shit. The ringing strumming, the shouting, fighting. It wasn't a scene he could see you at.

"Right there, papi, Hobie, there," your hips ground down, sultry moans puffing against his spiked choker while Hobie’s urged you up and down his cock, groping and slapping your ass around his dick. Your pink ballerina flats willing the movement by using the footrest to help guide your motion.

"Good, innit?" You didn't just like it, he realized, you loved it. Your huffy moans, the stares from strangers, the way Hobie commanded the scene. The bartender even threw Hobie a beer. Miguel wasn’t sure if it was Hobie's arrogance that no one was a threat or arrogance that no one would protest, but it pissed him off the same. He fucked you like it was nothing-- like fucking you in front of a host of sleazy men wasn’t a risk in and of itself.

He was too informal with you. He didn't treasure what he had. It was not the same, not like him. He heard your gentle footsteps in the lab. He shifted his weight between his feet, turning to see you hop up the platform. You fluttered your lashes angelically at him. Mi rey, you trilled. Your king. As though he hadn’t just watched you get railed by Hobie only days ago.

It was a fucking trap. A trap he was buying into, drinking you in. You looked pretty without your suit, clothed in a white, fluttery dress that barely kissed your thighs and nothing more. Like a fly to a spider web, he found himself gaping with his lips slightly apart. He brought his hand to his slight mouth, wiping away all inkling of his interest. You pout.

Miguel snapped back to his monitor. It was your scent lingering in the air, hypnotizing his dumb ass, your body eager and ready for him to pound full of his cum. Why else would you be in his lab? When you were strung out on his bed, properly bred, and leaking his cum, he was happy. He was happy with the tremors that wracked through your pathetic legs, that you were finally quiet for once in your damn--

“Oh? What's that?”

Miguel’s attention snapped to your figure, sliding along the edge of his desk, moving his hand without fear. You replaced it on your upper thigh, driving it between your legs. Horny again. His blown pupils followed the motion of your hand. He cursed his body for growing warm at the sight and smell of you. He hardening up as if his body had learned what to expect in the many days of experience fucking you. Most would have reconsidered what they were doing to him. Not you. You had no fear of men. You wanted him. Were you that insatiable?

“Hobie n' me?” you shimmied your shoulders with a knowing grin. The screen paused on a wet, sloppy kiss, Hobie's teeth nipping your lower lip. He was a biter. How had he missed his bites on your neck? Your soft, perfumed hand cradled Miguel's cheek, peppered in stubble. Your lips shifted up, tracing his sharp cheekbones. “Aw. I missed you too, Miggy. I always miss you. You're my big man.”

Yours. He might as well have been yours because you sure as damn weren't his. You led him on your little fingers with words like honey. A soothing honey that threatened to suffocate him in the weight of the words. If he listened long enough, he might fall in. Guilting him about his lack of time for you, Hobie Brown, the relationship you had, the kisses you exchanged, the sex-- the lies you omitted.

Miguel glides the clip away, bringing another to inspect. You remember it-- the day Hobie found out you fucked Miguel after a few hours of reconnaissance went south. You hadn't meant to piss him off. You only meant to take care of your needs. Needs that included sex. He was a means to an end, a brute that could fill what you needed. That much was becoming real clear, real fast.

"It go that bad? He got you in a fit," Hobie says. He can't help but notice you wringing out your suit, flinging it in your half-filled hamper by your bra, standing in nothing but a pair of soiled panties. Bruto, murmured under your breath-- a brute. He was. Hobie flickered his fingers off his guitar, a stray note irritating your hypersensitive ears. You cupped your ears in protest. "Oi, why are you airing me?"

"I'm not ignoring you. I just--" you bit the words, warm dread filling your chest with the next lie you told. You twirled your hands one over another. "I have a sore throat."

"A sore throat."

He wasn't buying that either.

"It's minor. Just a-- tú sabes, a little thing," you turned your hand over, whirling your bra drawer open with enough force to rip it out. Another growl rolled free from your lips, picking a powdery pink set and shoving it promptly back in. The drawer sat off-kilter. Hobie flipped his guitar over his shoulder and met you halfway, his hand warm on your mid back. It should have been comforting. Something in his eyes, even now, felt off. He recovered before you could answer.

"You fucked that man? Are you mad or what, wifey?"

You couldn't help feeling like you cheated on Hobie.

He stood upright, ripping himself away from your body, and brought his hand to his face to focus his thoughts. He had been fucking you for months-- and for months, he missed it. Miguel searched your eyes for a hint of shame or embarrassment. You had none, not even a lick. You were a kid in a panadería. Not only could you have Hobie, with his slender figure and exhibitionist qualities, but Miguel too-- with his big dick and need for love at the end of a long day’s work.

You played him.

His breath hitched as you turned around, shifting your hips back on his. It was enough. He had enough. His hand slammed over the rim, locking you in place against his muscular body. There was nowhere to run, even if you wanted to. You were happy to be there. Miguel wasn’t. His fingers trembled violently, forming a fist. You knew he wouldn't hit you. For all his rumble and roar, Miguel couldn't hurt you nearly as much as you could hurt him.

“You’re fucking Hobie,” he breathed into your ear.

“Mmm.”

A slight, noncommittal noise slipped out from your lips. It was not a denial, but not an agreement either. Irritation rippled across his skin with every damn swish of your round hips against his, shifting weight from one ball of your foot to the other. His body was alight with your soft body drawing trying to draw his pleasure to the surface. You were trying to distract him. Miguel wasn't about to let you.

"Answer me," he bucked his slender hips into yours, forcing you to catch yourself on the desk. You groaned. He had half the mind to fuck you right there, break in your pussy and leave you drooling over his desk. That would be easy. That was what you wanted.

"It's just sex."

“Are you dating him?”

“We don't do labels,” you said.

Miguel wracked your head back by your hair. A strangled moan slipped free from your lips, pleasure rushing to your cunt. You liked it. There were important details he had to know. Like-- if you used protection, or if you were safe when you weren't with him, or how you rid Hobie in raunchy pubs, and if you made out with Hobie until it was time to sleep. You know, important details.

“I do. I don’t share my women.”

“Yours? Fucking a woman ain’t keeping her, Miguel. You never asked me out on a date, put a ring on my finger, nada. It’s sex. Don't pretend like it's anything more."

"Is that all we are?"

"I've been fucking Hobie for months, Miguel. You want me to drop him-- for you? You don't even have time for me in the mornings."

His hand uncurled from your scalp, shoving you into the desk. He leaped off the platform, trudging somewhere, anywhere away from your body. He feared what he might do next if he kept hearing Hobie's damn name on your lips.

He could have done it-- let you have Hobie if you wanted Hobie so badly.

But it bothered him. Of all the women he could have had, he picked you. You were the only one he let grab him, shove him into hallways, suck him off under his desk, and be thankful for the strands of cum painting your nose and cheeks. You were the only one who slept with him at night.

Did Hobie need you the same way? Did he want you the same way Miguel did-- when he was inside of you, clambering over your body like a hungry beast, making you lay there and take him as he laid his brutal thrusts into your pussy. The way he battered your cunt, filled it up with his seed. Watched you heave heavy breaths-- because you were his to fuck and fill. The prospect of filling you up with his cum while Hobie was doing the same thing… ticked him off.

You were his, a territory that Hobie had no business entering. You had none allowing him to. Hobie didn’t claim ownership of anybody or anything at any time. It went against all he stood for. Miguel was inexorable. He wasn’t so bothered about the details. So long as the result was to his satisfaction.

“She’s at home, Miguel,” Lyla squeaked.

“Alone?”

“If you mean with Hobie,” she popped over his shoulder, sitting as if on a cloud in her fluffy jacket. His eyes rolled. “Then yes, he's there.”

"Show me."

"Nah, nah, nah, he's gassing you. How that man not know about us?"

You sat on your kitchen table, plopped with a hunk of pizza between your fingertips from the pizzeria below your house. Hobie's boots were thrown beside your mini-skirt. His chew was lazy and long. You sighed through it. You nipped the last bits of crust and grease off your fingertips.

"No sé. We never been a secret," you wiped off the rest of the grease between your thighs, ignoring the thought of your very first time with Hobie. But it was persistent, tickling the back of your mind, raging havoc on your unsettled heart.

White was your favorite shade. It was light, airy, like the sky. The sensation of falling through tufts of clouds. But it also made the consistent British rainstorms all the more irksome. The way water dribbled down your wet suit, your nipples perked as you rushed into his flat begging for something else to wear, Hobie's laughter dying out into that deep, low hum. His band shirt was ruined with the sticky stains of his cum.

"You thinking about it again?" Hobie read the way your eyes glazed over in an instant. His feet thumped onto the floor, swiveling in his chair and parting your legs. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of your tiny miniskirt. Your eyes tracked his gloved fingers peeking underneath your skirt. Not to pull down your thin panties, but caress small, consoling circles. "Yeah. You are. We just fucked. You're insatiable, wifey. You wet already? Want me again?"

"Hobie," you breathed. "What if he don't come tomorrow?"

"Then he don't," Hobie outstretched his finger, rubbing your soft chin to look up. "You don't need that wasteman."

"I got you?" you slid your fingers down to his slender palm, gliding over the tops of his knuckles. Hobie's lip pulled into a one-sided smirk, nodding to the side.

"Yeah, you got me."

By the time Hobie left, all thoughts of Miguel were non-existent. Mostly, because Hobie fucked you into exhaustion. You were out cold, strewn among fluffy sheets that wreaked of his musk of cigarettes and the sandalwood oil Pavitr gifted him. Hobie’s scent was here, there, everywhere it shouldn’t be as Miguel slunk into your slightly parted window.

Most offensively, Hobie’s cum was dripping out of your cunt. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If you wanted him so badly all day, you easily replaced him with Hobie’s dick. He climbed the foot of the bed, watching your face twitch, almost trying to wake up from your sex-fueled haze.

“Mmm,” the small, ineffectual noise caused him to drift his eyes across your silky legs to your lips. There was a gentle pleasure in watching you sleep. He had seen it many times when he crept in the shadows when you were most beautiful. When you were half asleep, your hands draped among fluffy pillows. To be the first sight in the morning, and if possible, the last thing you thought of at night.

If he weren’t so angry with you, you would have been a vision for his sore eyes. His fingertips swerved up and down your inner thigh, curling around until he found your vulva, still swollen and wet from sex with Hobie. Miguel urged his thumb over your swollen clit, zig-zagging along to separate your folds.

As he suspected-- you had fucked him. Miguel urged the cum out of your system with a squeeze of your folds, rolling his fingers along the outer lips. His dilated eyes flickered up, catching a soft sigh in your chest. His fingers breached your wetness, easing the cum free from your body with small sweeps of his fingers.

“Mmm?” you breathed. His fingers slipped away, dragging your hips to his waiting mouth. Caked in the allure of sleep, your moan went without a response. Miguel’s pink tongue separated your folds, small mincing suckles coursing from your entrance to weave around your folds, deliberately avoiding your waiting clitoris.

"Who's it?" The pressure caused your lids to spread apart, lifting your hand from the lush silk pillow under your head to the top of his head. His tongue languidly coursed back down, poking at your entrance. The coziness of your sleep faded away. You dropped a hand to the top of his head to run through his thick dark brown hair, his sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. Miguel could definitely have been a dream, but he wasn't.

“Miggy… I missed you,” you complained, reaching for the soft pink strawberry he won you once upon a time at a carnival. You had to beg, and beg, and blow his cock under his desk to get him to go. You looked so damn cute. Innocent. You were neither. “You should have come earlier--”

“To see you fuck Hobie?” he blew warm air against your cunt. Your hips shuttered against his face, thighs knocking his sharp cheekbones.

"You're still mad at me." This time, shame surely caught in your chest, a tremor of mean pleasure was minced with the pain of letting Miguel down. He knew it did. You wouldn't look him in the eye again but gripped the comforting strawberry a little harder.

“Considering you fucked him after we spoke, it’ll stay that way.” Miguel rose his hand to caress the outside folds as he worked, slurping the inner ones between his lips. You winced when his wet finger slid inside your hole. It squished obscenely, hungry and wet for his touch after such a tiresome day of longing.

“It’s-- it’s still sensitive.”

“I don’t care. You lied to me.” A brief glance at any watch would reveal that you’d barely slept at all. Miguel wouldn’t let you have rest, not if he could hold you accountable for your games with his heart and dick. His lush lips closed over your clit, flickering and sucking sloppily, drawing shocks of pleasure down your spine. You dug the heel of your palm into the sheets, struggling to slide out from under him. It was too much to wake up to after a fuck with Hobie who, from his files, apparently just loved to edge you.

"No, you don't. Come here." Miguel lurched his arm around your waist, dragging you back onto his face. Ah! Your hand shot to his forearm, battling out with his upper body strength to push him off. You couldn’t. Miguel was too strong. He was going to make you cum.

Pressure welled up in your stomach, forming a blinding burst of pleasure that threatened to let go. You knew it was coming. You knew there was nothing you could do about it but let him force another orgasm out of your cunt, twirling his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. In place of a sweet, soothing orgasm, hard pleasure ripped down your spine. It nearly hurt, forced out by his flicking tongue. Your legs tremored around his head, cupping him in place until you couldn’t give him any more of your sweet love.

“Miguel, Miguel please--” Warm tears pricked your cheeks, sliding down to your jaw. He kept his eye on you. Your skin was warm, mind dizzy, wracked with his complaints. “I didn't mean to lie to you. I promise. You-- you never asked.”

“Shut up,” Miguel forced your hips off his face with a sharp shove. Your hips bounced on the bed, a broken cry slipping from your lips at his abuse. He came for one thing, one thing only, and fuck more foreplay. Somedays he had the temperament for it. Today, with your daring admission that you had been fucking Hobie, he had none. "I don't want more pretty lies."

"They aren't lies," you bit out, scrambling underneath him, legs tightening shut. You just needed a moment to explain-- and if holding sex back would do it, you'd try. Miguel pulled himself free of his suit and pulled you back into place. Overstimulated tears pricked your eyes, "Miggy please-- Not yet--"

He looked down at you, eyes unfeeling, unreceptive to your pleas. His cock bobbed over the top of your vulva, thick and hard, dribbling with anticipation to replace Hobie’s cum with his. You bit hard on your lower lip, sucking your tongue over the loose cuts. “If you would have asked--”

“Since you’re so insatiable, you’re going to take this dick next,” Miguel gave a few lax jerks at the base, lining up his cock with your tense entrance. He felt you clench your walls, some piteous attempt to keep him out, to allow you to explain.

“I'm still sensitive, Miggy, please. Slow down, you're too big--”

“Think about this next time you fuck that punk.”

Despite your protests, Miguel pushed the head of his cock into your entrance. A moan wracked free from your lips. He knew it was your favorite part, the way he split you wide on his cock, pulling your walls apart. He bottomed out balls deep in your cunt, finally looking so full-- so full of Miguel after a long, arduous day of teasing him for just this. Your hand came to your stomach, buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. Your lashes fluttered, recognizing that this Miguel-- this Miguel wasn’t the man you knew. Not the one who was cold out there, patient in your bedroom. Something snapped. You cracked him.

“¡Ay!” you exclaimed, then clamped your mouth shut. He wasn't going to accept any complaints. Miguel’s hands clasped over your lower ribs, the slide of tears down your soft cheeks biting your skin raw. “Miggy, Miggy.”

“After all that teasing today, you can’t take my dick?”

“You’re too-- you’re too thick.”

“Tragedy, you’ll have to take me anyway,” he mocked, sliding his forearm underneath your head to keep you stable. Your skin prickled, wanting to believe the closeness he forced was as much for you as him. Your hands came to his chest, bundling up his suit between your fingertips. You needed something to anchor to. Your legs bobbed around his hips as he drew his smooth thrusts into you. Long, punctuated sweeps of his cock filled the deepest parts of your body over and over, stretching your sweet cunt full of him. “What? Am I not enough?”

“No, you are! I just, I love him--” your legs pathetically clung to his hips, trying to force Miguel’s full, sweeping thrusts to slow. Between the two men, you would be sore the next morning. Love him-- the words earned an intensity of his thrusts that you could only try to slow down by squeezing your walls around him. All this time he thought it was him, his inability to bend to your every need when you wanted it done. Your whines drifted off, melding into sweet, gentle moans of approval with every deep swipe of his hips knocking into your cervix. Wet, sloppy kisses marked your neck-- and if you weren't mistaken, the soft tickle of his own tears. The sensation of his liquid need, the hiss of his breath, bounced against your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be.” His other hand jammed between your legs, flicking at your already pulsing clit once again. It hurt how badly you needed it. You pulsed over his dick, a flurry of frantic perdóname slipping free from your lips over and over, a disc stuck on repeat. Miguel’s moans ripped through the room, the desire for air a secondary thought. You never heard him so loud, so enraged, even earlier today.

You came, wet and sweet over his swollen dick, for the second time since he showed up. A fourth since Hobie was here. You couldn't breathe, pinned between his chest and the bed. Your thighs tremored piteously around him, searing with pleasurable heat. You accepted his last frantic thrusts, marked by a sharp grunt. His wet cum spilled into you, hips snapping to your core to ensure you took every last bit of his seed. You buried your head between pillows and his fist under your neck, tightening and loosening. Your head was thumping, sweat cloaking his suit. When Miguel was finally spent, he pulled free, gloops of cum slipping free along with him. He threw you a look, recording the memory of your ruined body in his mind.

“Miguel--” you reached out. Or tried to. He jerked to the edge of your fluffy bed, his hands wrangling sweat out of his long hair.

“Let's stop seeing each other."

Seconds passed before you could articulate the right words, watching his chest rise and fall with the tension. He fit himself back into his suit, throwing a glance over his muscular shoulders when you cried his name. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Only…

“I… I didn’t know you would care.”

He steeled himself to your words from the gentle touch of your fingers on his elbow, trying to reason with him to lay in bed. He wouldn’t. Not this time. You crawled over, trying again. Realistically, you held little hope that he'd let you touch him. Not if he was banishing you from his life. Optimistically, all he could do was throw you off again. You considered yourself lucky that he allowed your arms to slide about his waist and press your breasts against his rising and falling back.

“I did.” But he acted as though he didn't. The words felt small as if they didn't fit in your mouth. He cared. Miguel ran his hand down, then up his head again, exhaling a wilting breath. "Mira… let me go," he sighed, loathing the words on his tongue. He wasn't enough. He knew he wasn't. "I'm in the way."

"In the way? Miguel, you're never in my way."

You couldn't be this dull. Miguel loosened your hands around his waist, glancing toward Hobie's miscellaneous shoes at the foot of your bed. Your intermingled jewelry in ceramic little pots. Maybe he did see it. Maybe he wanted to ignore it, to convince you he was enough. Maybe he was the one that appeared every time you two were alone, not the other way around. And maybe he was the interloper.

"In Hobie's way. You can’t believe that he isn’t jealous.”

“Hobie doesn’t get jealous.”

“You're blind. Everyone gets jealous,” he scoffed. “Even him.”

“Even you?”

That shuts him up. You watched as he pushed himself off the bed, stretching out his neck and heading out your bedroom window. This time, you wouldn’t follow him to the lab, slink into his bed. This time, you knew he wouldn’t come back. It was better, this way, your lives playing out apart from one another. Some lives can't be pieced back together once their web breaks.

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