Imagine Furina Is Being Such A Brat So You Had To Call Your Good Friend Arlecchino(with A Real Cock)

hii i know you might be busy because of school so take your time! Could i please get a Dead!Mitsuba,,,Dead!Hanako,,,Dead!Tsukasa,, x reader (if you dont want to write for them characters right now than you can choose others i dont mind <3) where they think reader is dying??Any situation is fine :)

dead!mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, dead!hanako x gn!reader, dead!tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: ahh thank you for being patient;;! And of course!! Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright! And I’m so sorry for the time it took;;

aahhh i constantly remember how difficult starting and ending fics are,,, sorry if it sounds awkward ;v;; i’m also sorry if this isn’t dramatic enough- i’m trying to get these out, but i’m in a funky phase, as i haven’t written in a while;;

warnings: vomit (in Hanako’s), blood (in Tsukasa’s)

word count: 2,765

mitsuba sousuke <3

It wasn’t uncommon for Mitsuba to watch you do everyday school things. He’d follow you around, playing it off as if he wasn’t. Even now, he sat under a tree, watching you assist one of the clubs.

You were always entertaining… or maybe, you were simply enough to captivate his attention in anything you did? Your arm held high as you caught the baseball tossed your way, grinning at the person who threw it. Though not fond of you smiling like that at another person, the glance you gave Mitsuba practically made up for it- though he still glanced away, as if he wasn’t looking in the first place.

Moments passed, before he peered back up at you.

Your smiling face, as you turned to speak to one of the club members- his eyes darting over at hearing someone yell your name.

“(Y/N)!! WATCH OUT-”

And, eyes back over at you, as the undeniable sound of a baseball smacking against a skull. Mitsuba froze up, only being able to watch as you toppled to the ground. The club members instantly panicked, and Mitsuba did the same- both he and the members running over to you, students shaking you as if that would do anything.

“Idiots!! Don’t shake them-!”

Unfortunately, all of his yelling was futile. Mitsuba was dead, after all, and he was sure that you were too. A bump already formed on your head, as you peeked your eyes open, reaching for your head. Your fingers grazed against the bump, then quickly retracted, as tears filled your eyes. Shouts from the club members to get an adult rang out, as Mitsuba placed his hands on your shoulder, shaking almost as violently as you were. You closed your eyes, shaking as you reached to your head again, only to retract once more.

“(Y-Y/N), it’s okay- a-are you okay?” Mitsuba stuttered out, trying not to get emotional. It was only an injury, right… you were fine. You had to be. You’d be fine. Right?

But, when you only shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter, he couldn’t help the pure fear that filled his entire body. His eyes grew watery when a teacher finally arrived, already on the phone with, he hoped, the paramedics.

Too much time passed, Mitsuba thought. Too much time spent grasping your hand, tears threatening to spill, as the teacher asked you too many questions. And, the absolute dread at the teacher’s reaction to everything- hearing you attempt to explain that everything went black for a moment- seeing the teachers eyes widen a bit, then eyebrows furrow in frustration. Mitsuba wanted to scream. To yell at whoever threw the ball- he didn’t care if it was a mistake. To yell at the paramedics- it was an emergency! Why couldn’t the emergency vehicle get there sooner??

Finally, they arrived. Paramedics picking you up, Mitsuba following alongside them until you sat in the vehicle. His eyes flickering from person to person, then back at you, until they shut the doors and drove off.

The next few days were like a living hell for Mitsuba. No- he wasn’t living. It was as if he had been doomed to suffer for all eternity. He shook every time he walked past your homeroom, peering inside as he checked for you. Peering over at your desk, praying that he wouldn’t see flowers sitting there. The lack of flowers was the only hope Mitsuba had left. The lack of rumors, the lack of Sakura one day opening up the broadcast with “(Y/N)-san of the baseball field.” It sounded ridiculous, sure, but he couldn’t help it…

Yes, though he’d never say it to anyone- maybe you, but that was a stretch- Mitsuba had never been so worried… he thought, as he finally saw you again, clinging to you as if you were as fragile as glass- that your death would probably affect him worse than his own did. Because, a world without you, would officially be a world without life… without you, Mitsuba knew he could no longer even feel alive.

“You idiot… I hate you so much,” His voice broke slightly, as you wrapped your arms back around him. Much like the moment when he was so sure you wouldn’t show back up, tears threatened to spill. “I missed you. Dummy. I missed you so much-”

hanako <3

There was a part of Hanako slightly paranoid about your death. Not overly so- not in a way that would hinder you. Simply, in the sense that he would risk his well-being to protect you. Yet, there were many situations where he was… helpless.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to enter the girl’s bathroom, though it was almost always to visit Hanako. So, his face instinctively lit up when he saw you stumble into the bathroom- though he felt the color drain from his face when he saw your shakey figure. The color was drained from your face as well, he noted, as he quickly floated over to you.

“(Y/N)?? What’s wrong?” He questioned, pushing the hair from your face, getting a good look at your face. He was already positive you didn’t feel well. He just needed to know how- then, he could help. Surely, he could do something.

“I… I dunno- my stomach hurts, haha… really badly.”

Before Hanako could question further- where did it hurt, what kind of pain- you stumbled into a stall, spilling any contents that were in your stomach into the toilet. Instinctively, Hanako cringed a bit- quickly, he shook the queasy feeling he got off, and stepped over to you, rubbing your back carefully.

When you looked up at Hanako, tears running down your face, he instantly feared the worst.

“Please get a teacher, or Yashiro, or- someone,” You told him, arms securing themselves around your stomach. Hanako quickly nodded, rushing as quickly down the hallway as he could. He wasn’t a doctor, for Pete’s sake- not even close to it. So, he practically flung himself into Yashiro’s classroom, shouting at her from the doorway.

“YASHIRO, (Y/N)’S IN A LOT OF PAIN!!”

Hanako could only ring his hands nervously for a moment, as Yashiro asked the teacher to be excused, floating anxiously beside her for a moment, then rushing back to you when she explained that she was going to get a teacher- thinking for a split moment, as he explained to her that you already threw up. To that, Yashiro nodded, telling Hanako that she’d be sure to make sure your guardians were contacted.

Once he reentered the bathroom, Hanako’s nerves were at a new worst state. His eyes landed on you, practically curled up next to the toilet, sniffling to yourself- he was sure he never wanted to help anyone so badly. He was sure that, if he could, he would take your pain.

“Yashiro’s getting a teacher, (Y/N). A-are you feeling any better?” You shook your head, glancing up at the ghost boy. Your face was slightly flushed with what he was sure was a fever, and your eyebrows were furrowed in clear desperation and pain. All he wanted to do was help.

“I feel like I’m dying…”

Dying. The word “dying” stuck out, striking at Hanako’s nerves as if they weren’t already being tested. You felt like you were dying? Were you?? He sat in front of you, hands shaking violently as he attempted to seem calm. You couldn’t die. No- no, the teacher would come. You would live, wouldn’t you? You weren’t going to die… right?

“It’s okay, (Y/N)- you’ll be okay,” He spoke, rubbing your shoulders gently and placing a soft kiss to your forehead, half trying to convince himself. As he continued to do so, the teacher entered the bathroom, knocking on the stall- though the door creaked open, as you hadn’t had the time to shut and lock it. It wasn’t as if you needed to- the nausea was simply overwhelming.

“(Y/N)? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m having really bad stomach pains… I threw up- it hurts to talk,” You muttered, glancing up at the teacher, giving them the same pained look you gave Hanako. They crouched next to you, placing a hand against your forehead, then nodding.

“Where does it hurt?”

Clearly not wanting to move, you sniffled, forcing yourself to sit back just enough to motion around your lower-right abdomen. As if it clicked, the teacher nodded, letting you fall back into the position you were previously in. “I have no room to say for sure, but it does sound like appendicitis. Your parents are on the way, and I’ll let them know to take you over to the hospital.”

Your grip on yourself tightened a bit, panic showing up in your face. Seeing that panic, Hanako could only fear the worst. He knew vaguely of appendicitis, sure- how likely was someone to die from it-?? If your appendix ruptured, he knew it was dire. Did it? How long did it take for an appendix to rupture? Before he could even acknowledge the thoughts running through his mind, the teacher lifted you up, carrying you out of the room.

Though Hanako followed, he was left standing at the doors of the school when your guardian carried you away. The final bell rang, all of the students finally emptying out of the school, as the car you were in drove away. He watched until it was out of sight, silently noting that it must have been the direction of the hospital.

The first few days were practically torture for Hanako. Yashiro’s comments didn’t help- her saying that you went into surgery only worsened his fears. During his lifetime, surgery was… unpleasant, to say the least. They could do it- you could certainly have your appendix removed, but- but what if something went wrong? How had things changed since he lived…? Had it ruptured, were you going to live? What if you died during recovery?

He couldn’t stand it. No, until several weeks passed, Hanako was a nervous wreck. The relief that washed through him when he saw you walking through the school halls was almost comical- that is, if he wasn’t clinging to you like he really had almost lost you.

“(Y/N)... I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Hanako, I’m so glad to see you too. Sorry for scaring you like that… but thanks for sticking with me.”

Of course, Hanako could only accept the praise, unsure how to word “I stuck with you because I didn’t want you to die alone.”

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa, most were sure, wouldn’t necessarily… care if someone around him died. No, he probably loved the pained expressions of someone taking their last breaths. If it was a messy death? It would be better for him, right? Screams of pain, tears streaming down someone’s face, blood splattered around. Natsuhiko half joked that it would be a dream for Tsukasa, no matter if everyone else considered it a nightmare. Sakura remained quiet, shaking her head slightly. You… disagreed, as if protecting Tsukasa. Maybe he wouldn’t… as eerie as your boyfriend could be at times, you loved him nonetheless- and you were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would… enjoy…… others’ pain…?

Hm…

Either way! You were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would enjoy your pain!!!

Those thoughts were just that- little thoughts you had. Thrown into a few conversations between the fellow people who frequented the broadcasting room. Nothing you really wanted to prove, you know? No, you’d rather assume it, and not go through anything particularly painful to prove it.

However, those weren’t necessarily your thoughts as you tripped over the rug, one of Sakura’s tea sets in your hands. The hot tea in them went flying, landing all over you- but, that wasn’t really your focus, as you landed with a harsh thud. The glass cracked underneath you, the uncomfortable sound of shattering filling the room- accompanied by your scream- at first being echoed because of the fright of following, but being finished off because of the feeling of glass splintering you as if you were the fragile object.

Your scream ended in a cry, tears quickly clouding your vision as the sharp pain coursed through every spot the glass had harmed. Sakura’s eyes went wide, and she stood up, aiming to walk over and help you- Natsuhiko did the same, exclaiming your name once he saw you began to fall, a bit quicker than Sakura was- Mitsuba could only stare, as if his fight or flight was activated. Before any of them could reach you, Tsukasa was there, shouting your name and cupping your face.

Tsukasa wasn’t bothered by the blood, as if he could be bothered by any blood, pure worry crossing his face. It was a rare sight- Tsukasa genuinely concerned- but it wasn’t like seeing a bloody (Y/N) on the floor was exactly common. It was no one's focus, as the other three finally were gathered around you. Protectively, nearly forgetting your injuries, Tsukasa held your head to his chest- glaring at the others.

“Go get a nurse!! (Y/N)’s bleeding-!”

Natsuhiko nodded, rushing off, as Mitsuba glanced around panickedly- Sakura pushed Tsukasa away from you slightly, as if to let him know to be careful. His hands wandered to your arms, holding them carefully, peering at the glass, then up at the tears streaming down your face.

“Don’t pull out the glass. It could make the bleeding worse, and we can’t be sure where all the glass has landed. Especially in their arms.”

Tsukasa nodded a bit, glancing at his hand when one of your tears landed on it. He ignored the blood dripping onto his palms, quietly licking the tear that fell onto the back of his hand. That wasn’t enough to distract you though- he half hoped he could take away your pain, but was discouraged to only be met with your shaky sobs. His eyes wandered along the shards sticking out of your arms. Dangerously close to places he knew they couldn’t scratch- an artery, he knew, would be beyond dangerous… what if, when the glass gets pulled out, you’re met with the spewing blood that comes with a punctured artery? Looking around at the blood dripping everywhere- were you… dying?

Tsukasa froze up a bit. (Y/N)? Dying?

Well, he was dead… Amane was dead. Mitsuba was dead. But… what would happen when you died?

Would you become a ghost? Or would death be the final separation for the two of you- would Tsukasa be trapped on earth, while you moved on to whatever afterlife there was??

“(Y/N) can’t die,” was his only thought, as Natsuhiko returned, gently explaining that he was going to carry you to the nurse- then, your guardian could come at take you to the hospital. However, once Natsuhiko’s arms wrapped around your torso, Tsukasa grabbed Natsuhiko’s closest arm. “I- I can take care of them. I’ll carry, (Y/N).” “Runt, you’re a ghost. For real, don’t screw around. Let me carry them, hurry now,” He spoke, lifting you up. Tsukasa stood, balling his hands up slightly nervously. Oh, a nervous Tsukasa… it was also such a strange sight- watching Natsuhiko speedwalk with you in his arms, Tsukasa floating alongside them. In fact, Tsukasa remained with the both of you- holding your arms carefully, until you were entering the car, towels placed around you to keep the blood from spilling anywhere. He watched the car drive off, unsure how to process anything.

The next several days were… difficult for Tsukasa. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it, yet he found himself peering into your classroom to see if flowers sat on your desk. He found himself paying closer attention to the rumors spread- listening carefully for anything that sounded similar to you. He wandered the halls, as if he suddenly lost his purpose- keeping an extra eye out for a person, or ghost, with cuts from shards of glass littering their body.

Tsukasa was his… clingy self when you returned. He hugged you as tightly as he could, not wanting to release even when you warned him about your still healing arms. He placed countless kisses to your face, giggling out that he was so sure you were going to die. Even when you questioned his thoughts, Tsukasa continued on, kissing the scars, scabs, and few stitches on your body. Yes, he really was glad that you were alive. Be it for selfish reasons or selfless ones, he couldn’t be sure- he just knew he was glad.

mE??? in lo ve wtih…vidEO GAE M CH ARCTR???? h aha no……taht woudl be ST UPID……video ga em cahrcter…..just plygons……..

nicknames, sukuna

a/n: short soft sukuna drabble cause he makes me go crazy. ignore any translation mistakes, i used google translate 😭 content: sukuna speaking in japanese. fluff, nsfw (oral - fem!recieving) wc: 582

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"sukuna," you call him as he's seated beside you watching a random season of survivor. he hums in reply. "you're my cutie pie".

you cheese at him when he turns his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing. "i'm your what?" you don't miss the slight blush that creeps up on his face. "my cutie pie," you say moving closer to make yourself comfortable in his lap. "my sugar plum," he raises an eyebrow at you.

the ends of his mouth slighlty tugging upwards. "my cupcake" you kiss him on the cheek "my cotton candy," your hands in his hair as you kiss his forehead. unable to hold it in any longer, he smiles. "my suki wookie," you look into his eyes and smile squishing his face. he lets out a quiet chuckle.

he flops you on the mattress as he pries your legs open and makes himself comfortable on top of you. trails kisses down your body as he whispers sweet words in japanese into your skin like a secret. "恋人 — koibito (lover) " a quick peck on your lips. "天使 — tenshi (angel)" a kiss at the space between your ear and neck. "私の心の光 — watashi no kokoro no hikari (light of my heart)" his lips move over your chest.

you wish you could understand what he was saying. you only knew the basics so you could figure out he said "my". my what, you wondered. "what does that mean?" you ask quietly. he looks up at you, the look in his eyes soft and loving "my brat". he jokes his head falling down to your chest as he laughs. "sukunaaa" you laugh.

he continues leaving feather light kisses over your body. now moving over your hips "私の桜 — watashi no sakura". you gasp as you translate it in your head. "your cherry blossoms?" you chirp. caught, his cheeks turn a shade darker. "can i, か甘いい女の子 — ka ama ī on'nanoko" that you knew. he always called you that. sweet girl. his sweet girl. you nod.

he kisses over your panties. you whimper. a slight sheen of wetness coating you as he pulls off your panties. "キャンディーのように甘い — kyandī no yō ni amai (sweet like candy) " he whispers to himself.

he kisses your clit once, twice, until your hand scratches at his scalp. "please," you whine. "hmm, be patient, 恋人の女の子 — koibito no on'nanoko (lover girl), haven't eaten all day". his tongue pokes out and he lickes a stripe from your opening to your clit. his lips wrapping around your clit as he moans in satisfaction at your taste. his finger moves down to your opening as his mouth over your clit brings you pleasure. his finger moves in and out of you at a teasing pace, fast and then slow.

your legs tighten around his head, limiting his oxygen intake but he doesn't make any move to pry them away. instead his tongue on your clit moves at a feverish pace. you soon cum with a cry of his name. mewling and moaning. he pulls away.

happiest man on earth. he thinks that whenever he's with you. "愛してます — aishitemasu (i love you)", he says softly, expecting no reply. you've watched enough romantic japanese movies to know what he meant, so you reply back "私も愛しているよ, すくな — watashi mo itoshite iru yo, sukuna (i love you too, sukuna)". and his mouth drops. giddy at your confession he takes away your breath as he kisses his love into you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

Good job!

Rings

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Other Stuff: Fluff, just Fluff; Friends that are too afraid to ask each other out; I think this’ll be my entry for Valentine’s Day, I’m really not sure ( wala kase akong jowa lol; trans: I don’t have lover lol)

Rings are special to you, very special even, causing you to having a collection of your own. Rings of so many kind filled your jewelry box, in fact, that’s just your FIRST jewelry box. They were just too many that you had to get another box to put them in, only for it to be immediately filled by, obviously rings. You have the chunky ones, the thin ones, the ones that are just simple, and even the ones with big-ass diamonds, gems and even stones in them. Just let everybody name any ring they want and you just…you just have it But, those rings of yours are not as special to the one you’ve been wearing for 9 years now. It was a ring you personally made for you and your best friend, Choi San,…who’s also the man of your dreams. Ironically, you made a friendship ring with the guy you loved for 11 years and wore it for 9 years, 9 years of being friend-zoned, I guess? It’s not like you confessed to him and he rejected you, only wanted you as his best friend, I mean, the friendship rings itself were giving it’s way to you, dumb of you to make those rings when you already loved him more than a friend and no longer sees him as just a best friend of yours “Hey!”; “Shoot!” You jumped out of surprise, your nerves knocking you out of your reminiscing state of mind while the suspect who surprised you was already throwing their head back out of laughter; “San?! Seriously?!” You whined, rolling your eyes at him as you heaved deeply; “You’re so jumpy, aren’t you?” He teased while nudging his shoulder to yours; “Yeah, whatever. So, are you ready to go?” You asked, your arms still crossed in front of your chest; “Of course! Let’s go, jumpy!” He teased one more time, ruffling your hair before running away from you; “CHOI SAN!!” You exclaimed as you tried to catch up on him, only for you to give up and eventually, continue walking half-way to your destination You deeply huffed in air, catching your breath as you finally arrived at the Pet Cafe, being greeted by San who’s busy giggling, already playing with the cats and dogs. All of them swarmed over to him, wanting his attention…or treats, and as per you, you were only smiling at the adorable interaction between him and the fur babies. San looked up and saw you, lost in your own thoughts while mindlessly smiling at him; “Y/N! C’mere!” He called out, his hand motioning you to come as you shook your head, bringing yourself back to reality before continuing your way to him. The cats and dogs all turned their attention to you as you only smiled widely, making sure you pet all of them equally; “They really like you more, huh? I’m kinda jelly” He pouted as you giggled. You reached to his hand and placed it on top of the cat’s head, who’s comfortably curled up into your lap while some of the others left; “They like you too, dumbo” You teased as the cat purred from San’s touch; “See?” You giggled as San continued caressing the cat while you noticed something “By the way, where’s you ring?” You mindlessly asked, still caressing the siamese cat on your lap; “Oh, that? Well, It doesn’t fit my index finger anymore so, I just kept it here” He explained as he takes out the ring from his pocket, showing it to you; “And you said that it has to be “specifically” on my index finger for some reasons so, yeah” He added while you only laughed, remembering that you’ve never really explained the reason behind it; “Yeah I did, actually our index fingers means friendship, that’s why I asked you to wear it there” You explained, chuckling; “Really? So, what should I do with this then?” He asked, showing you his ring again; “I don’t know, hide it I guess?” You asked back, confused; “Oh wait- I think it fits my- yeah, it does fit, look!” San exclaimed, showing you the ring that’s on his ring finger now; “W-What? Does the ring finger mean enemies? death? or any bad thing? what? what?!” He slightly panicked, caused by your shocked face; “I-It actually…means, it means marriage…” You laughed awkwardly; “R-Really?” He asked, his face turning red and a smile slowly creeping up into his lips You felt heat traveling up into your cheeks, tinting them red as you felt a blooming sensation inside you along with your butterflies flapping their wings inside you. You felt your heart skip a beat just now, as a smile creeps up into your lips as well; “Y-Yup” You answered, trying to hold in your emotions; “Then, why don’t we start our way there?” He shamelessly asked, your heart beating twice faster than before; “Are you serious? Like serious-serious?” You asked, quite unsure if you’re gonna lie or just be honest with your feelings for him; “I’m more than serious-serious, L/N Y/N” He says, his hand travelling to yours, holding it tightly; “So, you like me too?” You asked again; “I..I love you, Y/N” He mindlessly and shamelessly says, tightening his clasp onto your hands; “So, do you want to start our way to marriage?”; “Are you asking me out or your asking me to marry you-”; “Just answer the question” He giggled at how tensed you are right now; “Y-Yes!” You smiled, both of your happiness now can’t be hidden. San takes your hand and removes the ring on your index finger, putting it back, but instead in your ring finger “Now, our friendship rings are not friendship rings anymore, they’re our couple rings now!” San claims, caressing your cheeks with his free hand, happiness visible on his face as his smile grows even more and so is yours; “Are you sure this is not planned? Cuz’ you putting the ring on your ring finger is so smooth, cuz’ of that, now we’re dating” You say, a snort coming out of you, followed by a laugh; “Nope, I just love you too much that I took that opportunity” He confidentally explains, smiling widely, you two continued on caressing the cat while his other hand caresses yours; “I love you too”; “I love you more, Y/N”.

The End

— ꒰ CITY(E)SCAPE !! ꒱ shuji hanma

synopsis: visiting your parents never seemed to work out in your favor. hanma seemed to notice the odd shift in mood whenever you were reminded of them—you moved for a reason after all

cw: depictions of cigarettes + smoking , strained familial relationship , hanma is a bit ooc , self-indulgent writing , comfort + fluff

words: 2.2k

ଘ lmk if i missed anything + reblogs are appreciated !

The tension was always suffocating whenever you decided to pay visit to your parents’ low-budget apartment you once called ‘home’. Though, you were one to talk—you moved out and were now renting a separate room in that exact same complex, just a few floors higher. You deemed it to be okay at the time; at least you didn’t have to deal with them breathing down your neck every day. Maybe one day you’d be able to escape the confines of this less-than-stellar location.

It was yet another day you’ve contemplated on your unspoken insistence to visit them. Maybe it was just natural instinct—a child worrying about their parents and checking up on them to make sure they’re at least in somewhat good conditions—but they’ve always seemed to hold a grudge on you ever since you told them about your plans to move.

It’s not like your parents were horrible people, it’s just that they could be too much sometimes. ’Helicopter parenting’ is what they would call it nowadays. They always seemed to have something to nitpick every time you decided to stop by. Always.

“He’s surely bad news.”

You sighed for what seemed like the tenth time since your arrival. You drowned out your dad’s comments on another one of your “delinquent friends” as he would like to call them. He wasn’t wrong per se, it was just the way the words fell out with such distaste from his mouth. If you were being honest, you couldn’t really blame him. You understood the distrust him, and many others, had for delinquents. You just wish your parents had a bit more faith in your taste in friends.

“What was his name again?” Your mother glanced over to your slumped figure on the couch. “Hanma...Hanma Shuji, right?”

You let out a small groan at the mention of his full name. You had met Hanma a few months ago, your presence piquing a small interest in him when he accidentally knocked you over after running out of some vacant alleyway.

Toppling over both you and your things, he slowed down his step and turned to you; now amused at the sight of your struggle.

After dusting yourself off, you sent a small glare his way before turning around and continuing on with your day, muttering a few words under your breath. “A little help would’ve been nice.”

“I don’t do those sorts of things.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he had to hear your little tantrum. To add insult to injury, he decided that it would be fun to follow you around like some sort of stray for the rest of the day as well, along with an occasional snide joke or two—it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

You two would look back on those events and laugh at it now. At least he was nice enough to stick around even after such a trivial encounter. Whenever you voiced out your wonder on the exact reason as to why, he would pass it off as him ‘simply enjoying the show’.

Having heard enough passive-aggressive comments directed towards your friend, you comb a hand through your hair, your hand staying stagnant to cradle your face for a few seconds. Standing up abruptly, you walk over to the front door and slip on your shoes, face blank as you ignore the tired stares from your parents. Your visitations were always short-lived; it was abnormal for you to last even a full 2 hours in there.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

No other words were said as you pulled open the door and walked out. Walking down the hall, your were met with pasty white walls and fluorescent lighting. It was so empty, so dreary. You drummed your fingers on your thigh while absentmindedly humming out a tune to keep yourself preoccupied from your thoughts.

The metal doors of the elevator finally came in your peripheral. Pressing a button, you didn’t have to wait long before the doors opened up, a slight drag to your steps as you pressed the button leading to the highest floor of the complex. In your short solace, the small chime from the loudspeaker kept you from zoning out for too long.

The top floor was significantly smaller than the rest—just a few apartments to the right of the elevator and another door parallel to it; the sign reading it to be the small set of stairs leading to the rooftop. Turning the doorknob, you winced at the harsh creek the door made, the chill of the cold night’s breeze kissing your face lightly. The wind whistled an audible tune as you trudged up the stairs quickly.

Reaching the top, you hunch forward and catch your breath, a visible cloud forming from your mouth whenever you exhaled loud enough. You huffed out a small laugh through chattered teeth before straightening up and examining the darkened sky above you. If you had to admit; it was a bit dull—the night was cloud-free, the moon was quite bright out tonight, and you could make out a few stars if you squinted hard enough.

Walking towards the edge, you seated yourself atop a few scattered crates, the added height allowing a clearer view of the city from above. The blur of cars and the multitude of colorful lights never failed to calm you down. It was always a nice sight to see whenever you needed a place to think—and tonight was no different.

Your mind drifted back to your parents’ shameless comments towards Hanma. It’s not like you haven’t tried to defend his ass either, yet they remained unchanging with their beliefs.

Replaying their words in your head caused your frown to deepen. Hanma really wasn’t as bad as they made him out to be—you learned that first hand. Shaking your head, you cleared your thoughts and distracted yourself with the view once more. The last thing you wanted right now was to be influenced by clouded judgement.

You clicked your tongue. “How stubborn..” You muttered out to no one in particular. ‘Guess it runs in the family..’

Keeping your gaze forward, you lean back slightly on your forearm, your other hand tracing small shapes into the rigid wooden crate you’ve found purchase on. The overbearing treatment your parents gave you coupled with the rowdy neighbors on your floor—you truly did appreciate calm moments like these.

It was kind of funny how sour your mood was right now. It was always small, unimportant matters that seemed to hit you the hardest—you almost had to laugh at the growing burdens you’ve kept to yourself. What else could you do?

“What a pain, huh?”

Your breath stuttered for a second. ‘That voice..’

Glancing to your side, your eyes widened at the sight of Hanma now stood beside your seated figure. He was leaning leisurely on the crate, arms perched alongside the edge with one leg propped up for balance. He leaned back, an infamous giggle leaving his lips as he breathed in the fresh air.

He craned his neck to face you, lax grin never leaving. “What’s gotten you so upset, hmm?” His tone seemed to poke fun at your misery, but you could easily pick out some worry. You let out a lighthearted scoff at his words and shot him a small smile. You knew he didn’t mean any harm; you’d come to familiarize yourself with his way of showing concern.

“Why are you here?” He noticed how you dodged the question, but decided not to dwell on it. You were curious as to how and why he knew you were here in the first place. He didn’t live here either.

“Can I not see you or something? I’m hurt.”

Hanma watched your face scrunch up in confusion before chuckling a bit. Once your laughter subsided, he opted to stop messing with you just this once.

“You visit your parents every Saturday. That’s all.” He drawled off, changing the focus of his peripheral to the vibrant colors of the city. He didn’t need to say anything more than that, sensing you’d catch on. He knew about your somewhat estranged relationship with them—the string connecting both parties was wearing thin.

Scooting back, you hauled your legs onto the wooden box, now sitting criss-crossed as you glanced over to see him joining you, keeping his legs over the edge.

He looked at you expectantly, thinking you’d say something. Yet, all you did was hum lowly with the wind, paying his prior words no mind. How odd. His face faltered at your lack of response. Maybe he had to be more upfront about it? That was something he couldn’t do, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone to try. If anything, it would hurt him more if he didn’t do anything to stop your little pity party.

“Are you alrig—“

“Pass me a cig.”

You both halted, mouths slightly ajar. Those words were so unlike either of you; hell, you’d think the other would’ve said it instead. He’s only seen you smoke a couple of times; mainly when it got too much for you. He frowned, slowly reaching into his pocket to fetch one from its box along with a lighter.

“You sure about this?” He didn’t want to reprimand you or anything—he smoked a lot more than you after all. All he received was a curt nod back as you quickly grabbed both items from his hand. Clumsily, you place the stick between your lips and strike the lighter a few times—a few times too many. You haven’t done this in a while, and you were more than just a little desperate to forget about everything for a little while.

Before you knew it, another pair of tattooed hands snaked themselves around your shaky ones, ceasing your movements altogether. You looked up to meet Hanma’s golden eyes, a small frown on his face as his brows knitted together in what could only be concern.

It all happened too quickly for your liking. Quietly, he scooted closer to you and moved a hand to snatch the cig from your mouth gently before leaning forward to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, surprising you. Leaning back just as quickly, he now had both the lighter and cig back in his possession as he smiled slightly at your bemused state.

“Like this idiot,” he mumbled, careful to not drop the cigarette now placed between his own lips. He cupped a hand near his mouth and lit it with ease, inhaling the familiar scent of nicotine. He paused for a few seconds before taking it out again, huffing out the smoke almost boredly. You examined him as he offered the cig back to you, refusing to look you in the eye in case you saw through his facade—he could blame the red tint of his cheeks on the cold as a last resort or something.

A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat as you grabbed the cig, your other hand grasping onto ‘sin’ itself. Hanma’s expression hardened, turning his head just in time to catch your lips on his, his eyes shutting at the sudden impact. You on the other hand were quite baffled. You were originally aiming for his cheek—similar to what he did—but ended up kissing him for real.

You were about to move away in worries that he would hate you after this, but stilled once you felt a callused hand coming up to rub the apple of your cheek almost affectionately, the other moving to latch onto your wrist once more. You took this as your sign to ease back into the kiss, your free hand reaching to weave through his already tousled hair. The wind seemed to cheer you two on as it grew louder, cigarette now long forgotten as died out a few seconds later.

You pulled away first, breathing heavily as you rested our forehead on his and closed your eyes. Hanma catalogued every detail of your face in his head, palm still flat on your cheek as you leaned into its warmth.

“I hope this isn’t some one time thing.”

“Have more faith in me, will you?” He huffed out before planting another quick kiss to your lips, using his index finger to playfully push you away afterwards.

He eyed the worn out cigarette on the concrete floor beneath you two, grabbing another one from his pocket. This time, he neatly placed it between your lips before handing you the lighter. He didn’t want to stop you in case you still wanted it. You send him a small look of gratitude before taking the lighter and lighting it up almost instantly, admiring the small, amber colored flame for a few seconds. You lit up the cig afterwards, letting the smoke whisk away your thoughts for tonight.

Hanma knew not to poke and prod at the topic of your parents for the rest of the night; he realized that when he examined the small, more genuine smile that played on your lips after you blew out a cloud of smoke. He was just glad he could keep you away from your problems for a while.

“Feeling a bit better?”

He felt a small weight on his shoulder as you leaned on him contently.

“Yeah.”

a/n: i swear i don’t have an addiction to writing about cigarettes or anything </3

♡ It's The Most Wonderful Time-out! ♡

A/N: is this late? 100% but it's time for some CHRISTMAS HYBRID TIMEEEEE!!! A HUGE thank you for the patience from my amazing sunshine anon for this commission <3 Personally I think the title is hilarious, do- do you get it- the most wonderful time of the year- plz laugh-

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, puppy's first Christmas! Grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! Reader in time-out, visiting the hybrid park, angst and fluff, mentions and descriptions of gore, all gets resolved in the end!

Word count: 7,430 approx.

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December 23rd

Time out. Oof, those words. They were enough to take the swing right out of your tail. 

This definitely wasn’t your fault. On the scale of 1-10 you’re like, a -5 when it comes to being in trouble. Totally. It wasn’t your fault it had rained, or your fault you wanted to jump in the the new layer of snow and got all wet and muddy, the only part that might have potentially, potentially been on you was tracking said mud and sleet through the living room. The living room rug to be exact. The rather expensive, difficult to clean because daddy sometimes ‘truly can’t be fu- bothered’ rug. That was the one rule; he could deal with mess on the floorboards, the tiles, but not the carpet. The stains were just too hard to get out.

Leon could handle dirt and grime absolutely, he’d take it over guts and gore any day of the week, public holidays and Christmas included. But coming home from work after a long day, hands stinking of gunpowder and grease, only to find muddy streaks and pawprints all over the rug was his last straw. The coffee machine in the office had been broken, his magazine clip had taken three different attempts to click into place despite the million times he’d done it before, and the armoury’s practice range had been down for maintenance. This was just the gasoline flavoured icing on his flambe flaming shit excuse for cake. 

Woosh. Fire. 

So, there you were. Plopped back into your pen, favourite squeaky toy just out of reach sat beside Leon’s chair as he scrolled through whatever’s on his phone. Teddy was right there, all worn out fluff and stringy neck ribbon, you were being taunted! This was torture, punishment of 

the worst degree. The only thing that would make it even more awful was going to bed without a kiss goodnight. But even Leon wasn’t that cruel.

Don’t get it twisted, he was feeling guilty about this too. The face you made when he walked through the door told him plenty. Big, round eyes, head bowed and tail anxiously thumping. You knew you’d gotten carried away. But you also knew better. And it’d been so long since he actually disciplined you. This was long overdue, half chewed toys left sopping wet in the bath after tub time, weeks of chased squirrels and rabbits, staying up way past your set bedtime. This was what really sealed the deal though. So, you do the time, you do the crime.

Even now he could feel your eyes boring into the back of his head, like two teary, glossy lasers set to melt his old hardened heart. Every half-hearted thump of your fluffy tail, every scuttle of your nails against the floorboards as you got comfortable, every tiny whimper you seemed hesitant to let out. Not to mention your poor attempts at being ‘completely and totally cool’ with your timeout since he often caught you staring up at him through the bars, eyes following each swipe of his fingers over his phone screen. And when he craned his neck to check on you, you were swiftly looking in the opposite direction, swearing you weren’t just tracking each of his movements. How couldn’t you though? You were obsessed with your owner, Leon was your daddy at the end of the day no matter how many play pens or crates he had to put you in so you’d behave.

 His poor princess. You were killing him, really. He’d survived well over 15 years of bioterrorism just to die at the hands of his pup-hybrid’s big wet pathetic gaze. Could flood a village with the amount of tears you shed a week, but he loves you and that tender heart of yours.

The real question was how much longer could either of you take? Leon knew it was a ‘you do the crime, you do the time’ type of deal, but was this truly teaching you anything other than how to master your pouty bottom lip? You’re his favourite fluffball, fuzzed up and huffy, chuffing and rolling over onto your back like you’re ready to play dead if it gets you out. 

And honestly? He was caving. He was only a man after all.

You’d softened him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Three years ago he’d have scoffed at the thought of even owning a hybrid, let alone being this attached. But now you were glued to his side. Now he just felt like an old man, worn and tired, your sunshiney attitude and warmth had thawed through him like no heater had. He’d been frostbitten before meeting you, whether he’d known it or not.

He couldn’t bear it. Yeah, time was up.

So his heavy footsteps muffled through socks padded across the floorboards to you, although you tried to act like you didn’t care (and failed miserably). It was pretty obvious how much this mattered to you, because your tail was whipping something fierce, so hard it had your hips wiggling. 

“C’mon, darlin’. Think you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Those big eyes pierced his very being and soul as you gazed up at him from behind your lashes, ears all floppy and face streaked with past tear tracks. God, you’d been crying over this too? Might as well just rip his heart from his chest and stomp on it. 

Even as he turned around and sat back down on the couch, looking over to you expectantly, you seemed to hesitate at first. Glancing at the spot where the rug had once sat in the centre of the living room, right in front of the coffee table, with guilty furrowed brows. Then it was back to looking at Leon, back to melting him with those heartbreaking watery eyes.

“Oh, my sweet puppy.” He couldn’t help but croon as you made guilty little steps over to him, every tap of your feet filled with shame, tail swaying with embarrassment. You were a walking heap of emotions, and he was ready to scoop you up and put you back together. “Here she comes, there we go. Tough day for our girl.”

You’d missed it, oh how you’d missed it. At your heart you truly were just a puppy, in need of the loving praise and sweet words that only he could provide. You weren’t the mushiest pup in the litter, but there was nothing like a good hug from your daddy. That much was clear from the way you melted into Leon’s body as soon as you were sat in his lap, your tail thumping delightfully against his knees while you burrowed into him. Paws kneading his shirt so you nestled into him just right.

“I know it was rough, honey. M’ sorry. But sometimes daddy has to discipline you, y’know?” the thick pad of his thumb encased your chin just enough to tilt your gaze upwards, his hand sliding over the curve of your face so he could wipe your tears away. “And it hurt, didn’t it?” “Yeah..” “So next time you think about stepping on the rug with muddy feet, you’ll remember how much we both hated this, and you won’t do it, isn’t that right?” “,,Yeah.”

“That’s right, baby. My poor girl.” That last statement came out as a small sigh, rubbing the soft fuzz of your floppy ears tenderly between his fingers. Even now as he gave you a talking down your tail never stopped thumping against his leg. 

No matter what, you loved him. That must’ve been why they called it puppy love. And it made his heart ache something fierce. You were too good.

Leon felt like the worst daddy in the world sometimes, he wasn’t gonna even try to lie about that. Sometimes he scratched behind your ears too hard, or you didn’t understand one of his jokes and ended up getting pouty and upset, sometimes he didn’t throw the ball right or pick out the right snacks. But all of that was nothing compared to the biggest issue.

His intoxicated escapades were at the very top of that list. 

Raids of the fridge and mumbling to himself, slumping his jacket off only to pass out on the edge of his bed. Leon knew you didn’t like when he got drunk, it was probably what hurt him the most about all of it. Not the gunshots echoing through his skull when his shot glass hit the table, or the recoil of a pistol wracking his shoulder when he ran into a wall too hard. 

No, it was the look on your face.

How you seemed to curl yourself back into your pen, watching with a lowered head and a hesitant gaze, tail somewhat tucked. The foggy memory of the face you pulled when he was too rough petting you or spoke too loud while sloshed. That’s what ached, what truly stung like a bitch. 

He was supposed to be the one protecting you, caring for you, and because of his own problems now you’d seen a side of him he never wanted you to. He’d made your hands awaken to the crack of eggshells beneath them when you stepped towards him, you were familiar with the shell’s powdering like that of bullet sulfur, and inner yolk gold as the streaks in his hair back then. Knew of the blood that sometimes hung in the middle of it all, and in the worst scenario the curling of bones left over. 

But still at the end of the night, drifting between a muddled haze of asleep and awake, he’d hear you make your way slowly towards his bed, the mattress dipping when you climbed up and curled up at the bottom of the duvet. Because, despite it all, you wanted to be close to him.

 Because, despite it all, he was your person. So he dumped what he could of the remaining bottles, stashed a few shitty cans for safe keeping in case things got too hard, and stopped being a regular at Jerry’s bar. 

He was doing it for you, maybe only for you.

Now he had you sat in his lap, buried in his shoulder and curling in as small as possible. Trying to become one with the skin of his arms and fabric of his shirt. You wanted to crawl up under his jacket and be carried as one with Leon, you’d do it if you could. 

He had to do something.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” Oh, that voice. Despite the icy weather outside, despite the cold that hung in his chest from time to time, his tone always tried to be warm with you. Soft. like those mutts learning to gentle their snarls and unclench their teeth, to stop growling. He was so used to the sneering, the sarcasm, snapping when someone got too close or said the wrong thing to him. But you were so fluffy, so fuzzy to the world, so unaware and loving. So he had to wear a muzzle, and he learned how to adjust.

Why? Because he couldn’t be a violent dog if he had his very own puppy. “I dunno..”

A lopsided smile spread across his cheeks at the look on your face, chin tilted and tail squirming as you look to him. There’s still the matter of that guilt still hanging in your face, stray strands like an unruly mop of hair.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna squeeze ya.” While you were still processing Leon’s comforting words and the lull of his voice, he was quick to gather you in his arms and press you tight to his chest. Immediately you were bathed in the scent of his shirt, the natural smell and comfort of his body. A warm blanket of safety had been draped over your blankets in the form of his presence. He squeezed your body nice and close until you squeaked out a yapped laugh, the fluff of your ear squished against his stubbled cheek.

“Oooo, good squeeze. Get all those nasty feelings outta you.”

“Daddyyyy, you’re smooshing me!” These were the moments he really cherished, ones where your tail swung and you squirmed in his arms with that smile of yours.

“Awww, well that’s how you know that it’s a real good squeeze,” His voice waved every time he swayed you slightly from side to side, bringing bubbly giggles from your throat that drifted up into the air and popped right at his heart. “It’s like juicin’ an orange, gotta shake and twist you till you’re all better.” “I don’t wanna be juice!” You howled out playfully, throwing your head back like the dramatic little thing that you were.

“Oh you don’t huh? Then you gotta keep smiling for me baby, it's just that simple.” He pushed his cheek up against your own. God, how he loved that smile, the sound of your tail thumping across the fluff of the sleek couch. There you sat, cute as a button, curled up atop his legs and snuggled in close like the sweetest, softest stuffed animal. “Tell you what, we get you one last snack, and then we’ll tuck you in, and tomorrow we’ll go into town. Catch everything before it all closes up.” 

You were already half asleep in his arms by the time he’d finished talking.

December 24th

Planning the day out was the easy part, executing it was hard. Not only because Christmas was right around the corner which came with its own chaos, but because you were- well, you. Overly loving, over committed, overly loyal and lovely you. Leon swore you must’ve been the cutest looking leech or tick in a past life.

You insisted on putting together an outfit that yes consisted of your favourite bows and daddy’s most comfiest shirt that smelled like him. But even his ‘I’ve worn the same blue shirt for 3 years’ ass could tell when things didn’t coordinate together. So he did the gentlemanly and not-wanting-you-to-look-like-a-disaster-oustide-ly thing and helped you into some cute fleecy stockings, complete with a soft sweater and your favourite skirt. Gloves of some sort were a must, you had a thing for pawing at whatever you could get your hands on no matter how cold it was, and you were in your fuzziest boots. Adorable. Like a Christmasy puffball, a fluffy ornament. All you needed was a pair of angel wings and a halo and you’d be ready for the top of the tree. 

“Look at her, look at that posture and stance. Look at that trot. That’s a well trained leash dog right there.” A smirk tugged at Leon’s lips as he watched you pad in step with him, the lacy trim of your skirt swaying whenever your foot met the sidewalk. This was the very same puppy who sat staring at him from her crate with the most pitiful eyes yesterday, rolling over onto your back like you might die from lack of attention. And now you were practically skipping, a bounce to your tail with every step.

You were lucky enough to live in a small enough part of the city. Not too urban, but definitely not rural. An outskirt area that was a nice walk away from the nearest hybrid park, long enough to get you warmed up for the real fun. And even after Leon had you off the leash you were staying in step with him, glued to his side with the sweetest smile on your face. In fact it took a little coaxing and the presence of some other pups for you to finally run around.

Leon knew you could be sociable when you truly wanted to be, but even for such a smiley little thing sometimes you simply preferred his company to anyone else’s. You could be skittish, a bit shy, and it truly threw him off guard when that part of you poked its head out from behind the warm rays of sunlight that radiated from your very being. It was adorable, really. Watching you curl into his leg with a slightly swishing tail of fluff, giving a small wave only to burrow into him. But today you were doing well, today you chose to shake out your jitters. And yes, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was proud of you.

No matter how many times Leon brought you out here, letting you experience the wonders of a normal domestic life, it never stopped being nothing short of magical to watch you shine. You had this magnetic aura that always seemed to follow you around, people were drawn to you and that sunbeam that clung to the smile on your face. The warmth that you spread to those around you. 

You truly were his sunshine.

“Leon?”

A voice he hadn’t heard in a few weeks thanks to his time off work caught his attention, and sure enough as he looked over his shoulder there stood Ingrid Hunnigan. Bundled up in a long overcoat with a recyclable cup in her hands, steam wafting from the lid in smooth swirls through the crisp cold air. Already her glasses seemed to be fogging up again, despite so clearly being cleaned only recently. Yeah, he didn’t realise how lucky he was to have decent vision despite all the bullshit he’d been through. Glasses on top of the trauma and broken bones might’ve done him in.

“Hunnigan? The hell are you doing out here?” It wasn’t defensive or aggressive, moreso confused. Intrigued, interested. It wasn’t often he actually saw her out and about. A little silly in all honesty for him to think that, Ingrid always had some sort of plans around Christmastime. Her holiday decorations, complete with lights and glowing reindeer atop a tiled roof, were nothing to scoff at.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the snow in person, I figured I’d go for a walk to get a feel for it.” She shrugged, hands tucked into her pockets. 

He was listening, or at least some part of him was. The other part was blurring through his peripheral vision to make out the blob of colour and wagging tail that was you balling up snow as you ducked behind a tree, playing with one of the other hybrids. If you asked anyone in his line of work, they’d say Leon is a hardass. He’s committed to his work and gets his job done, and he’s passionate about what he does whether that’s good for him or not. 

But with you? With you he was just a man. Just your owner, your person. And that was such a relief.

“How’s she doing?” Ingrid asks out of habit. Every woman in the office can’t help but ask Leon about his perfect princess. And of course he laughs, shaking his head.

“Spoiled as ever. Really enjoying my time off with her.” Much needed confirmation, he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he dared tell Hunnigan about the time out incident. Best to keep it lighthearted now. Even as her face seems to.. Falter. What was that about?

“Listen, about the Phillis report..”

And then that lightheartedness was gone. If it weren’t for the icy chill that surrounded him, Leon would’ve gone a new shade of pale in the cool winter light. 

It never used to bother him. It never phased him on the outside. But now? With you?

The Phillis report. A family with a hybrid that had been a target for a bioterrorism attack. 

A hybrid.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you smiling, the red tips of his ears pricking at your laughter, the soft crunch of snow beneath people’s feet feeling much louder now as they passed. Everyone’s footsteps were unique, every thud and crush that left a print. Evidence. Clues. Cases. Work.

A hybrid like you. Everything was muddling together into the nastiest shade of grey water freezing over into ice. He hated his job. If he could pull the pin on a grenade, jump on top of it and coat the walls of that godforsaken office in his blood and guts he would. Because that’s what they were asking from him. They were asking him to die for them. Jumping from subject to subject, he was playing jump rope and hopscotch with his morals and intrusive thoughts over one simple statement in the middle of the holidays. How the mighty so quickly fell beneath twinkling lights and atop brightly wrapped presents.

The pulse of his heart had managed to spike, thundering fast and heavy in his chest. Eyes half an inch wider, pupils shrunk.

It could’ve been you. It- “Please, don’t. I’m just- I’m trying to not think about all of that. Not with her here.” It came out a bit too rushed, like his body had forced each syllable from his lips to get a point across. A safety measure, a precaution for his well being.

Leon had already spent countless nights tossing and turning over the paranoia of you being caught in his work. Now it had gotten so bad that even the mention of a hybrid being involved in a case made him sick to his stomach.

Because what if that had been you?

His throat almost closed itself off to the world as he got his words out. Ingrid’s face was creased in worry at the state of him. How had one statement so quickly pulled him through a 180? “It’s our first Christmas together, I can’t ruin that. I can’t.” Swallowing felt like choking down gravel but he managed to nonetheless. 

Hunnigan’s gaze softened, because she knew exactly how much it would ruin a perfectly good day if she were to stretch this out. She knew you were bouncing around somewhere without even looking for you amidst the snow and differently shaped animal ears and noses. You were the centre of Leon’s world, even if he didn’t know it. But those around him, those like her and Claire and Rebecca, could see what a difference you’d made. “I get it. Just.. don’t worry about rushing it, okay? It can wait until next year.”

“Yeah.. Yeah, thanks.” Automated. Robotic. Leon felt like he was backseating his own life as he responded, hearing Hunnigan’s shoes click as she prepared to walk back to her apartment complex. The sympathy ebbing from her expression only made him feel more sick, and yes that would’ve made him feel bad if it weren’t for him being on the brink of what was most likely a panic attack.

“Merry Christmas, Leon. Take it easy.” He couldn’t get the words out, settling for a stiff nod. Work. Work, work, work. It followed him everywhere no matter how fucking hard he tried to escape it. Think of something else, he scolded himself through the deafening heartbeat in his ears. Anything else. Think of you.

Padding your way over the snow, he watched on in an attempt to calm himself down as you bounded around the park like a bunny. Maybe a fox, the type that burrowed deep under the flurries of fresh powder with yipping laughter. All he knew was you were enjoying yourself, and that was all that mattered. That was all he focused on as his breathing steadied. With a short, still somewhat breathless whistle, your ears stood on end. Immediately your head thwipped to him, and you were merely a blur of pink and white that came scampering towards him. Yeah, that got a snort. Good. He needed to laugh more.

“There’s my girl.”

And there you were indeed, practically barrelling into his leg so he let out a hoarse ‘oof’ at the impact. Complete with a whispered “Hi daddy,’ that somehow managed to calm his heart in ways no medication or therapy could. Maybe he could start you out on service hybrid training, get you certified. Nah, you were too cuddly for that. Plus the vest would have to be pink or you just might refuse to wear it. So for now, he figured he may as well treat you.

“How about some hot cocoa, hm? You were a good girl after all, took your punishment like a champ.” Lie. Big, fat lie. If the ladies at the office ever caught word of how Leon had put you in timeout he’d be getting the most gruelling of death glares. His grave would be trampled on as they sprinted their way over to comfort you. He couldn’t really blame them, though, how could you not run someone over to pet someone as precious as you. You, currently sticking your little tongue out to catch the delicate snowflakes floating down from the sky as you approached the cafe. That’s what he had to keep reminding himself of in this moment. He did all of this for you. Trying to drown out the sinking ache in his stomach as if he’d swallowed an anvil, that son of a bitch must’ve been hidden between the bubbles of his saliva, or maybe the frost that dripped from the roof. 

So yeah, he was using you as the most sweet looking distraction right now, watching your wide eyes take in the wood grain and sleek walls of the coffee shop tucked into a corner of the park. On your best behaviour as you both stood in line until you got to the register. The metal tang in the back of his throat definitely had nothing to do with the gut weight still lingering after talking to Ingrid. Nope. Must’ve been the cold.

“Yeah, can we grab one long black and one.. Hm.” For a moment Leon caught himself rethinking his decisions. Was it really the best idea to give you something that had ‘cocoa’ in the name? You guys had yet to test how you’d react to chocolate after all. Taking the time to test and breakdown what food and beverage you could eat or simply didn’t like was a meticulous process, but better safe than sorry. “Wait, that was on our testing list..”

“Daddy?” Sorry puppy, daddy’s too busy having a small crisis over whether or not you can actually drink what he was ordering for you.“Is it- It should be safe for you to have hot cocoa, right?” “Daddy.” This time it was flatter. Unimpressed.

“I mean you haven’t had a bad reaction to anything yet despite being part puppy but, it’s technically chocolate to some degree so-

“Daddy!”

The tugging at his wrist was enough to get his attention back on you, the draw of your big dewy eyes and scrunched nose luring him in like a fish to bait.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” “Turn brain switch off.” 

Sometimes he thought you were pretending to be as curious and innocent as you are, because you so easily sensed when he was anxious or worried. Like an instinct. Sure, he loved you to bits, but you weren’t the brightest bulb in the- light store? Batch? He’d come up with a better analogy later. Either way, the point stood. And yet you always did that little head tilt when something seemed off. That bulb flickering to life.

“Right, puppy. Daddy’s turning the overthinking switch off.” Leon reassured as best as he could. And it seemed to satisfy. “Good daddy.”

He couldn’t help but snort again at that. “Thanks, baby.” Being praised for his minute efforts in managing his thoughts by his very own puppy hybrid. By the time you hit the register he was still smiling despite the storm in his head. “One long black and a hot cocoa, please.” 

But oh, how quickly it faded into thunder clouds. Even as he gave the barista his name for the order and walked over to wait for your drinks, it lurked over him. A sickening thickness in his throat, like tar tobacco and nicotine had clogged his windpipe. He was on auto pilot when he collected the recyclable cups and placed one of them into your eager hands, not recognising his own voice as he warned you about it being hot.

Leon was stuck between reality and dissociation, his feet leading both of you on the path back home that you’d taken enough times to have memorised. And even as you blew on the surface of your cocoa through the spout of the cup’s lid, you could see it in his eyes. That distant look. Deflated, the same as when you chewed on your favourite squeaky toy too hard and it popped.

“Daddy? You’re all droopy.”

Your voice was high and puzzled, all floppy ears and arched brows in confusion. Did he not like the park? You’d had a wonderful time making snow angels and bounding through the white powder like sweet icing sugar atop a winter cake. Maybe daddies just didn’t do parks well, like how you didn’t do the vet too well.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s just thinking about things.” It had him staring out so far his eyes hit the end of the sidewalk, through the ice and snow to the cement. One hand held your leash, the other swiping past his lips. Hoping to wipe away the residue of his frown. 

It didn’t work. “But the switch..” Oh, don’t give him that tone. So heartbroken, so worried. It broke him.

“I know, I know the switch honey.” Already he was rubbing over the crease between his brows. This conversation couldn’t happen, not here and not now. “But sometimes- sometimes it’s not that simple, you know? Sometimes the switch doesn’t work.”

You supposed that made sense. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder. And pry, just a smidge. You could be a little pushy and shovey, whether you meant it or not. “Well, whatcha thinking about?”

What wasn’t he thinking about was the real question. It was all blurring together.

He simply shook his head. Made the bangs of his hair sway when he did. “Don’t worry about it, pup. It’s a conversation for another time.”

Well, that didn’t seem right to you. Usually Leon was so open with his feelings towards you, so you couldn’t help but nudge him. This time not with your nose or paw, but with your words. “But..”

And then his voice was lighter, as if he’d dropped the weight he’d been carrying over to one shoulder. Giving the illusion that things were better, that things were normal. But that shoulder still slumped. “Hey, weren’t you telling me something about Jill’s dog Carlos showing up on his own today? What was that about?” 

It still dragged.

At first you were very willing to tell him, the very concept of a hybrid on their own both bewildered, confused and excited you. Carlos was a big shaggy furred fella, he always played fair and shared the good treats Jill handed out.

But you knew this tactic. It was the same as when you’d ask him questions and instead of giving you an answer he’d pick up the nearest squeaky toy and suddenly you were playing fetch instead of talking. This time you were all the wiser.

“You’re trying to distract me! I don’t get it, when people say certain things you go stiff and wonky.” You couldn’t help but frown up at him. It didn’t feel fair, not knowing these things about him. A whole year together and yet sometimes he looked more like a stranger, dodging your questions and petting your ears so you’d move on. But you weren’t expecting him to furrow his eyebrows and sigh low in his chest, the way his forehead creased and nose flared. It was the same look you got before time out, only this one seemed more defensive than the last. 

“Not now, sweetheart. Please.” Leon’s tone was flat, no room for argument no matter how much your wriggled and squeezed your body between the cracks. Your tail’s wag deflated, slowing to nothing more than a slight sway. The snow felt a little colder after that.

December 30th

Christmas had been nothing short of a success in the Kennedy household, with Leon’s living room being covered in scattered wrapping paper and a whole new variety of toys in pastel colours. He was delighted. This may have been one of the few times he actually enjoyed a holiday rather than loathing it. Maybe it was because you were there, so he wasn’t spending it alone like he usually did. The way you’d spun in circles and yapped happily about it being Christmas morning.

It had been your first real Christmas ever. Your first Christmas not spent in a cage, where you got toys and ate warm meals with the man you loved, with Claire and Becca and Chris and Jill coming over for lunch under the fluorescent glow of the Christmas lights you’d insisted Leon put up. You’d sat by the tree unwrapping gifts with the fastest wagging tail Leon had ever seen, ears perked to attention and eyes wide and sparkling. He was glad, honoured really, to witness this moment of pure unbridled joy for you.

The two of you spent most if not all of Boxing Day lazing around the house in your pajamas, cuddling by the fireplace and bundling under blankets for more than a few naps. Lazy days, oh how you both loved them. Soon it was the 26th, then the 27th,so on and so on. 

Now, the christmas paper had been collected, the tree’s decorations were slowly taken down in day by day intervals, and you sat politely by the glass door to the backyard watching the snow. Leon figured if there was ever a time to truly explain to you the truth behind his career, it was likely now. A tough conversation to have, but one that needed to happen. He just couldn’t leave you in the dark like this, not any longer. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” “Hm?”

There it was. That innocent lilt, the curve of your neck as you craned to look at him. You were something too pure to be sitting on the floor of his home. You deserved mattress upon mattress like the princess and the pea, only he wouldn’t be an idiot like the ones in that book. Leon knew better than to leave under the bed unattended in case there were coyotes trying to nip at his sweet girl’s toes and tail.

Softening, that’s what he was doing. Cracking. This wasn’t going to end well and he knew it. “Y’know how daddy doesn’t like to talk about work?”

Uh oh, now you knew it was time for a serious talk. Not like when you dirtied the rug, this time you weren’t in trouble. Still you looked at him so gently, with such trust while that mountain of fluffy fur behind you swished. Because if it was serious, it was important. “Yeah.”

Leon patted the spot on the couch beside him, complete with a pretty pink bone print blanket for you to settle on, to which you trotted yourself over as dainty as could be. Hopping up next to him, a tail curled around your back. Getting yourself cozy under his arm with your head nestled right next to his chest. Listening to the steady thrum of his heart as his pulse picked up. Doing so much, yet so little, and it all comforted him.

 It was starting to sink in. He was telling you. He was opening the casket, dragging the corpse of his past through the dirt to pose for a real, living person. How was he supposed to break this to you? How did you even word his job without saying ‘I might die one day’?

“Well, that’s cause what I do is pretty dangerous, puppy. I don’t want to worry you with all the stuff I have to do.” The violence, the bloodshed, the screaming. Flashes of red that haunted his dreams, the ones you’d nudge at his face over until he’d wake up because you heard him muttering in his sleep.

“Why?” You were so oblivious to his little inner world, the one he made sure to hide from you. The one filled with guilt and shame. He wanted to keep it that way, but what choice did he have? How could he keep you safe if you had no idea what you were being kept safe from? You should be worried about what colour skirt to wear, or if your collar matches your outfit, not this bullshit. 

“Because it’s just better for you to sit and wait for me to get home at the end of the day, baby.” It was better for you to expect him home every day. 

It was better for both of you if you just always thought he was coming home.

 It made his heart break so hard his ribs snapped thinking about you sitting by the big bay window, tail flicking and throat weeping whimpers if he didn’t show up for a few days. Then weeks. Then eventually someone would have to take you in, pack up all your toys. They’d find the list he kept stashed on the top of the fridge just in case; instructing anyone who found you on just how you liked your food and which stories to whisper in your ear at night when the thunder got too loud. 

You’d never go willingly. Someone would have to leash you and tug you out the door to their car. You’d cry. You’d cry so hard your throat would die out hoarse. It would probably be Claire or Chris or Becca picking you up, he’d have to hope. The thought of some stranger from the DSO taking you from his home, your home, the home you shared together, had him swallowing down a lump. He knew you’d never recover from it. It would shatter you, after sitting in a kennel alone for so long and finally crawling out of your shell, just to lose the person you so clearly loved more than anyone else. Fuck, Leon could feel his eyes watering.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. It would be the cruelest thing in the world for him to abandon you without any choice in the matter. If he were a stronger man he’d have retired by now. But he wasn’t stronger. He had no backbone when it came to his job, the government, the United States as a whole. Some fucking hero. He was more like a lapdog, breaking his neck for a board of people who didn’t give a shit about him. Taking the scraps he was offered.

“Daddy, you’re crying..” Your sad voice pulled him back into reality, where you were now taking those soft hands of yours to wipe away his tears. Wet streaks that lined the creases forming in his scarred over skin. He was getting too old for this. Too old to be bottling up these feelings for days on end. Wearing himself down for the sake of denying what he felt.

“Fuck, sorry sweetheart. It’s just.. It’s my job to keep you safe. But it’s also my job to keep everyone else safe, too. And your daddy’s been through everything, honey. Zombies, parasites, bioterrorism, war, the whole five yards. I’ve had so many people turn their backs on me or- or look to me for help for so long that it drives me crazy to even think of you worrying about me not coming home.”

How long had it been since he’d cried? Really cried? How much more could a man like Leon take? Sure he was strong, he had to be. Built up from broken beginnings on bloodied glass, shitty past relationships and world-ending catastrophes. But he was only human for Christ’s sake.

And maybe he was finally starting to sober up to that realization.

“I always think you’ll come home..”

Of course you did. Of course you, this sweet angel of a puppy girl, looked up at him with those watery eyes filled with confidence in such a statement. As if you loved him so much it almost poured from your lash line in heart shaped droplets. You had such hope despite where he’d adopted you from. Had he done that? It was odd to think about. How someone as shitty as him (in his perspective at least) had gotten you to blossom and bloom into the sweet thing you were today.

“Yeah, why’s that honey?”

“Cause you’re Leon, and Leon is the strongest person I know.”

The weight of your head now resting against his shoulder was like an anchor that stopped Leon from washing out on the beach of his despairs. He wasn’t left to drift off into oblivion, to drown in his sorrows and regrets. He had you. You had him. A hand came out to instinctively pet over the warm fuzz of your floppy ears, and he seeked out the comfort that came with your presence.

It was comforting, the quiet. Not tense or awkward. Like the waves of the ocean sloshing to a slow and serene sway after a tsunami or a tidal wave. To know you saw him as your hero, that you held him in such high regard. It made every grey hair and creased feature feel worth it. Everything he did, he did it for you. And for once it didn’t feel like a pressure, or a burden, it was a responsibility he was glad to shoulder. Like he were your knight in shining armour.

“Why’d you never tell me you went through all that stuff?” Even now as you spoke your voice was low and soft, sweet to his ears like a drizzling of warm honey right to his cochlea. Those homemade remedies for aches and pains.

Even now he found himself chuckling to get through this, an ache in his chest with each exhale. Someone had set a cinderblock on his chest, and you were mustering up all the strength in those little paws to ease it off. “And ruin what we’ve got going on right here? I wasn’t gonna risk that.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer, because now you were perked upright with the slightest of pouts perched atop your lips. Disagreement etched into your features. “S’ not ruined, dummy. It just means I get to say I love you a whole lot more.”

Now it was his turn to snort sincerely. Always so stubborn. Adorable, sweet, but stubborn. "Oh, is that so?”

“Mhm. So when things are yuck it’ll be easier to remember that I love you. Cause I’ll say it as many times as I gotta until you believe it.”

You ruined him, and not in a bad way. You took the world’s smallest pick to the world’s coldest iceberg and chipped back his layers sliver by sliver. Sculpting him back into what he once was before the world dumped cold water onto him and froze over the softness that lay within. 

Leon’s hand stroked aimlessly over the curve of your head, tracing over the edges of your hair gently. Even with the scrapes on his knuckles and bruises on his palms he always made sure to be soft with you. His voice, half cracked and brimming with affection, was quiet as he whispered back. “I love you too, puppy. You’re my best girl.”

Firewood crackled in a low, jagged white noise in the background, smoothing into a quiet simmer that cast a warm orange glow against the walls. Bathing the room in heat, one that you both let wrap around you like a safety blanket. You found haven in each other, because no matter what, you always came back to one another. Leon was your owner, after all. It was his job to ensure you had the best life, with all the comforts you could ask for and then some.

And he planned to do just that. Whether it meant dumping out all the alcohol in his house or not.

“So.. Do I get more presents?” It’s a teeny voice against his shirt that had him tilting his chin down to look at you.

“Well no puppy, the next holiday is New Years Eve. We don’t give presents then, only Christmas.” A pretty straight forward explanation, or at least that’s what it felt like to him.

“Why?” Another chirp.

His brow arched. “Cause Christmas is only once a year, sweetie.”

“Why?” And another. “Okay, we’re not starting this.”

God, just wait until you find out about birthdays. Then he’s done for.

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me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

For all self-shippers who needed to hear this: your fav loves you.

Don't listen to those who say "he would never love you", "he would kill you and not love you, stop dreaming".

If self-ship makes you happy, nothing should bother you. If it supports you, don't listen to anyone. Continue!

And for those skeptics who spoil people's fun, I want to say one thing: touch the grass on the street. Seriously.

Please reblog if you think that “they/them/theirs” is a valid set of pronouns.