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orexin-objection · 1 month ago

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♡ Nothing Can Get a Look In On My Baby ♡

A/N: OMG TOOK ME LONG ENOUGHHHH!!!!! Big big BIG thank you to @remembermagnolias for this commission of Leon trying shibari out with his gf :3 And thank you for being so patient oh my goodness!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!!

Warnings/content: NSFW, SEX, SMUT WHATEVER MDNI 18+ PLEASE! Shibari, obvi!!! RE4R Leon x chubby fem reader, second person (you/yours), porn with slight plot? Established relationship, mention of insecurities, Leon and reader are idiots in love, soft dom Leon, use of traffic light system (ifykyk), oral (male and female receiving), edging (on both parties), missionary, Leon’s a two pump chump in this cause he’s too busy staring at the reader, eventual creampie (DO N O T) :3

Word count: 5.1K estimate (Fawn don’t overwrite challenge omg)

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“..Shibari?”

Huh. This was a new one. Surprising to say the least.

It quite literally translated into ‘japanese rope binding’, or even ‘to tie’ if you wanted to get more technical. Some kind of BDSM thing, harnesses and restraints during sex. Leon had never really looked into it that much, not during his porn watching phase anyway. Might’ve been the whole Spain thing, any thought of ropes or chains and suddenly a bisexual Spaniard was eyeing him up and down. Conversation for another day.

But you, his sweet wide eyed girlfriend, were exposing your kink to him. His girlfriend who shivered and whined when he put a hand around your neck - not squeezing, simply owning. And you, you, wanted to be tied up and at his mercy. Yeah, it caught him off guard. Kinda like if a puppy brought home a two foot long snake, carcass dead and limp. How did you even kill that thing when you do nothing but chase your own tail and smother him with kisses?

He was no chump when it came to the ropes, hell he’d learned them well (joke intended). Take it from a man who was stuck doing drills in stinking, sweaty jungle weather for over 4 years, tying and untying stupidly complicated knots with names he’d now long forgotten; ropes weren’t something to laugh about. So when you approached him with the idea of trying something new in the bedroom he had not expected this.

Leon was your first ever boyfriend after all, it was safe to say he was shocked when those big doe eyes stared right through him and your pretty lips whispered ‘Just, don’t freak out okay?’

Did he freak out? Of course not. The news was a shock of course, but Leon had been through much worse than this. If anything, your girlfriend asking you to tie her up is more of a pleasant surprise than a reason to flip your shit.

“Is it.. Bad? For me to like- be into it?” Oh, don’t ask him in that tone. That pleading gaze, the demeanour of a trembling bunny. And now you’re confessing you’re a rope bunny. You’re gonna melt his heart before he has the chance to fuck you until it gives out. He knows you need this, his validation.

So of course he cups your face in his hands, making you feel almost painfully vulnerable. You had yet to decide if that was a good thing or not. “Bad? God no, angel. It’s just- you’ve always been so tame. I mean I was scared to put a blindfold on you for Christ's sake. Kinda throwing me off with the whole ropes thing.”

“I know I’m usually sort of.. Vanilla with all of this.” If that was even the best use of words for this situation.

“But you’d be comfortable with it?”

Oh, bless your heart. He’s been stabbed, shot at, infected and bruised. He’s more than happy to work with ropes. “Sweetheart, I’d tie myself to an anvil and throw myself into the ocean if you asked me to. Trust me, I’m willing to give it a shot. Do you wanna.. I don’t know, look up stuff for it? Is that how this works?”

“I don’t know!” You can’t fight off the giggle in your voice at his words.

“Well I don’t know either, dork!” It’s a soft nudge to your ribs. “You’re the one who wants to try it.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who’ll be tying it.”

So, now here you sat. Boyfriend towering over your prone frame, tying you up in ways that made you feel more like a Christmas ham than a girl about to get fucked stupid. You couldn’t help the insecurity, but how could anyone really? Next to Leon, anyway. Build like a brick house with biceps you wanted to gnaw on. That would be the real Christmas dinner if it weren’t only April.

“I think this is called a star harness..” Leon’s voice felt far too soft for a man who was currently working on binding your arms behind your back. The concentration, the lilt in his throat as he hummed.

“I can’t exactly see to confirm.” Of course you couldn’t resist sassing him, which was unfortunately met with him tightening the ropes by an inch. Just enough to watch you tense. Your ankles were already tied anyway.

“Hush you. Oh.” He clicks his tongue, calloused thumbs rubbing carefully over your wrists. Making sure you had just enough wiggle room. “And I may or may not have been practicing on that teddy bear I won you at the fair that one time.”

That got him a (somewhat feigned, somewhat real) gasp of outrage. “Not Jangles!”

“Yes, Jangles. Jangles was the best test dummy I could get when I was looking up those stupid tutorials.”

“Did he at least look good?”

“He looked very.. I don’t know, fashionable? His little bell ribbon went with it all rather nicely. Now hush, I’m concentrating.”

There was something exhilarating about waiting for him to finish up, his handiwork being part of his pride in cases like this one. Leon wasn’t the greatest with words sometimes, but he was good with actions. And right now tying up his partner was a pretty good action in his eyes.

“Is that tight enough, angel? Or too tight?” “It’s fine Leon, I’m comfy. Well, as comfy as I can be.”

“Alright, good..” Of course your consent and comfort mattered. This was all for you. A little bit for him as well, though.

I mean who can resist you when you’re oh so pretty wrapped up in rope?

“Fuck, just look at you. This what you wanted, baby? To be tied up and at my mercy?”

Not Leon, that’s for sure. He sits back on his haunches to really take in the view, eyes raking up and over your figure.

“I’m understanding the appeal. You look fucking adorable right now. Like a rabbit caught in a snare. Gotta stop giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes though, honey, or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Not like you could help it. This was everything you’d been imagining and so much more. With ‘more’ being a little insecurity here and there that Leon had to squish out with the heel of his palm. Like a nasty mosquito trying to sap the confidence from your oh so gorgeous being.

“It doesn’t look.. Weird, right?”

The very opposite. Leon thought if his dick got any harder it might just pop a blood vessel and send him straight to the ER. He could crack open a fucking walnut, maybe even someone’s skull, yet another trip to the ER just not for him this time.

“Weird? Sweetheart, you’ve got me hard as a rock and you’re asking if you look weird?”

“Just because of.. Y’know..”

Oh you sweet, gorgeous thing. Looking down at your feet like the answer is written across your toes, the shyness is clear as day on your face.

“What, honey? Cause you’ve got a few more curves than other people? Cause you’ve got so much more for me to squeeze and love? To manhandle when I finally get the chance to fuck your perfect cunt?” Sure, you might’ve been tied up and ready to devour, but Leon wanted to savor this moment. And that included making sure you knew how much you meant to him, both sexually and otherwise.

“You are breathtaking. You are hot. And right now you somehow manage to look even more beautiful than usual. And it’s not just ‘cause you’re sexy as hell. It’s more like- because you trust me with this. Me. Not anyone else in the whole world.”

And then he clears his throat. Right. Stop pouring your heart out, Leon. Get to the sex.

“So, I figured we might as well get this started the way we usually do when we- y’know.” Was that hesitance you sensed? Was he nervous? Surely not.

“Fuck?” Oof. Straight to the point, huh? “I wasn’t gonna use such an explicit word but, yes, fuck. So..” Smooth. Real smooth. “We’ll start from here.”

It’s almost too natural the way Leon eases you to your knees on the carpet, careful not to jostle you. Mostly in fear of straining your skin against the ropes, but also second-guessing his knot-tying abilities. Had Krauser been right? Were his loops too loose? Nope, do not picture your now dead mentor as you’re unbuckling your belt for your girlfriend to suck you off. Do not. Focus back on the way she’s looking at you.

And he did. You can see it in his eyes when he snaps himself out of his haze. You. You and your wide puppy dog eyes, parted lips like petals begging to bloom open. Leon can’t remember the last time he fumbled with anything other than potential romantic partners until he found you, but his belt is gonna end up at as a first on a new list; objects his hands were too shaky to undo as he prepped to fuck you.

He gets it, eventually, and you’re holding back a small smile at the sight. Leon S. Kennedy, proclaimed man without fear, bioweapon survivor and man that lovingly rails you into the mattress most of the time, is having trouble with his jeans. The belt no longer, but now the button and fly. And yeah, you scoff.

Which may have been a mistake.

It’s like a dog to a whistle, a fox to a cracking branch. His head snaps up, eyeing you over. Oops. Note to self; don’t challenge your boyfriend when you’re at his mercy and tied up. Recipe for disaster, and you were melting like butter beneath his gaze. Ready to be softened and then beat together with all those other ingredients; arousal, excitement, embarrassment. It could go right in someone’s cookbook: how to make the world’s most awkward batch of cookies.

“Ohhhhh, we wanna play games, huh? Getting cocky?” The smirk on his face is something lethal.

No. No no no you were not getting cocky! It was just.. A bit funny.

That seems to be the push Leon needs, because now he’s unfastening the zipper with no issue, shucking off his pants, just down to the upper thigh. Barely enough to tug at the waistband of his boxers. There was something so unbelievably attractive about him when he left his jeans on like this. As if he’s rushing himself to get his dick down your throat. Which, honestly, he is. The heavy outline of his dick behind cotton, his deft fingers sliding his underwear down, it’s too much.

And then he’s guiding you with a gentle but firm hand under your chin, thumb and index finger lifting your head just an inch so you look up at him through your lashes. Like a beautiful fawn, prey under his gaze. But he’s not going to devour you out of primal hunger, not for his stomach anyway. But out of love.

“Your wrists are bound, not your jaw. Open.” He mutters, and it’s like your open and loving partner is gone. Replaced by this tender but strict man before you, with darkened eyes. Blues swimming with stormy clouds over a windy day. His gaze had deepend with lust, the depths of his love reaching down, down, down into the hadal zone. So of course you comply, holding your breath to pass the shallows of your inhales, breathing through your nose as you take him. Slowly, of course. Licking a soft stripe that follows his frenulum, taking your time to please him. It’s a surprise he’s this hard just from tying you up, but you’re not too surprised. It’s Leon after all, he’s always been more of a giver than a taker. And when you’re inching down, down, your mouth warm around his dick, he grunts.

“Open up for me. Little bit wider. Rightttttt there, yeah.”

Right there. Settled against your tongue, steady and twitching with each blink of your watery eyes. You’re staring up at him like he hung the stars and moon in your name, but all he’s done is pop his dick past your lips. So he chuckles. Rubs a thumb over the swell of your cheek tenderly. “Always did go dumb when I stuffed your mouth full, huh?” He smirked. “Just conks that brain right out like a light, all you think with is your cunt and tongue after that. It works for you, sweetie. That’s what you should be focusing on. And no teeth. I know you can get bitey when your jaw starts to hurt. You pat my thigh, not skin my dick. Got it?”

You’d roll your eyes if you still had the mental capacity to move any body part other than your tongue, jaw and throat. God, he could be such a drama queen sometimes. But even drama queens had silky hair, rippling muscles and cock good enough to dumb your brain down into a pile of melted mush.

Was he high on the power play? Oh, big time. “Thereeeee we go, ‘atta girl. Fuck-”

But you were loving it just as much.

Leon’s hips were lazy, his thrusts leisurely. Rocking back and forth the same way a chair would. As if the process, the action of fucking into your mouth was a relaxant. You were a drug he couldn’t quit, that’s why he kept you tied up. Like locking the medicine cabinet. Sometimes he has to cover those pretty eyes of yours when you’re sucking him off or he’ll cum way too quickly. Blowjob eyes were your speciality whether you knew it or not.

Blowjobs also, apparently. Because already he was screwing his eyes up, trying to focus on the smaller details rather than the bigger picture. Like the way your tongue was shy, curling by an inch to try and catch a closer taste. You weren’t greedy, moreso curious. Or the way you hummed when his cock sat just right in his mouth, when it felt like perfect puzzle pieces in the most perverted way possible. You’re a dream. You’re sweet and tender and gorgeous and you have his balls ready to burst.

So he grunts, takes a gentle handful of the hair near your scalp, and tugs you off much to your dismay.

“I know- I know, don’t pout at me. And don’t look at me like that.” But you’re whining,you’re helpless. He’s got you tied up for Christ’s sake. “I just don’t wanna blow too quick, angel. You gotta understand. Wanna take care of my girl first.”

That seems to do the trick. You soften, the glare in your eyes melting down into glinted submission. Pleading. It’s kryptonite. It should be illegal for someone to look so fucking pretty. And it makes him snap.

“Warned you not to give me those eyes, baby.”

A squeak is forced from your lips as Leon hoists you up and onto the bed as if you weigh nothing. Like holding a couple of grapes. Which is a bit comforting, you’ll admit, knowing that despite your insecurity in your size your boyfriend is so quick to make you feel loved. Dominated. He’s always been good at that. He made you feel vulnerable but safe despite it all. Letting you fall not-so-gracefully thanks to your bindings, you allow yourself to sink down against the mattress beneath Leon’s gaze.

“I understand why hunters like.. Catching their food now.” He’s so fucking cheesy, but it’s hard to do anything other than whimper as his hands slide up your thigh, the force of his palm helping ease you onto your back. Closer, warmer. Yet you have goosebumps as if his fingers were leaving a trail of ice across your skin. “Spread your legs a little more, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. Stuck in a lusty haze had you bending to his will.

“How’s your light, sweetheart? Can you give me a colour?”

But even as you bent he caught you in his palm, letting you rather lean into his control than force you into it. No, to him it was an honour for you to trust him like this.

“Green.”

Who knew one little word could make his dick even harder. Yeah, your consent was turning him on. How obvious was it that he was whipped? Was it the way he hummed low in his throat at your confirmation? The way he was rubbing a lazy thumb over your twitchy cunt through the cotton of your panties? “Good. That’s a good girl. You’re doing great for me. My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

He knows you like it when he manhandles you. It’s pretty clear from the way you shiver and shudder, preening into the touch and melting under the heat of his gaze. “The good thing about having you like this, is that if you squirm,” A soft grunt pushed from Leon’s chest as he pulled you closer, nails grazing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Up, up, until the rope binding your ankles sits behind his neck. You’re tied to him. “I can just hold you still. Nice and convenient.”

It’s tedious. It’s torturous. And all he’s doing is slowly, slowly pushing your underwear to the side. The action, of course, is followed by a low moan. Not from you but from him at the sight.

“Fuck, baby.. You’re soaked through. All this from a couple ropes?”

You’re drenched, swollen folds and slick dripping, practically pulsing. A bleeding, beating heart Leon wants to devour in the most hungry, volatile and carnal way possible for the sake of loving you. So he does. Leaning in to lick a long, light, but firm strip from the bottom of your pussy up to your clit, grunting in satisfaction at the feeling. The taste. Leon wasn’t picky about the taste of alcohol, but he was about certain… appendages. But you were always fucking perfect to him. An aftertaste on his tongue, lingering on his chin as he huffed against the sensitive flesh.

Is it bad that watching you squirm like this is entertaining for him? No, probably not. Besides, he needs to get out of his head and focus on the way you look. Your hooded eyes, the heave of your chest, the shiver of your frame as he lets out a low, hot exhale. Right over the bare flesh so you whine pitifully. Oh, don’t make sounds like that, if his dick gets any harder it’ll dent the mattress.

Yeah, it’s too much for him.

In the blink of your eye he’s dived headfirst between your plush thighs, pupils shot wide and dilated, his large hands keeping you spread open. Well, as open as they could be right now. And you’re writhing, gasping so high in your throat it’s as if the force of your breath sweeps beneath you, lifting you back up, up off the bed. An angel arching back up to heaven. Slurping, kissing, licking until you cry so pretty for him. He should ask you to sit on his face next time, just to quash any lingering insecurity. He wants to consume you whole, even now as you try to twist and buck away from the onslaught. “Mph- none of that.” Not like you had anywhere to go, your ankles were still firmly tied and tucked behind the thick muscle of Leon’s neck. Keening. Mewing. Garbled whines of his name sneak between the cracks of your moans.

Now you’re anchored to him. And the simmering in your belly is becoming unbearable, an itch deep inside your uterus, thank fuck you weren’t ovulating or this would be a whole other thing. It would be claws, pulling at his hair despite having your hands behind your back. You would be the one hunting, so he’s thankful to have dodged that bullet.

But Leon truly wants to get the most out of this. So, once again to your dissatisfaction, he pulls away. Lazily wiping the last of you from his lips. “I know, I know, baby.” And he has the audacity to coo at you as if he didn’t just edge you right after edging himself. “Give me a colour, sweetie. Even if you wanna slap me right now.” Who does this guy think he is?

Apparently the most confident man in the world, because soon enough he’s running a heavy hand through the streaked gold of his hair like spun silk. He really does look like a prince, something ethereal that holds you close. That eases his way up your torso to look you in the eye. “Pst, hey. Colour?” He repeats. Not snappy or firm, but soft. As if at first he was worried you’d spaced out from discomfort.

“..Green.” A timid whisper, a sacred trust you share with him and only him. He’s one lucky man.

“Alright, baby. Gonna take this nice and slow for my perfect girl.” It’s not just for you, it’s also for him. Because he’s pretty sure even brushing the tip of his twitching dick against your pussy in just the right way will have him cumming on the spot. So he focuses on being what he always is. Snarky. Sarcastic. At least he’s consistent.

“And look at this, made myself an easy little handle. How nice of me.” Which is true, there’s a nice spot between your tits where the ropes sit perfectly like a handlebar. And he’s getting off on it. Cocky bastard. Leon was gonna get backhanded by you one of these days if he kept this up. Just thwack! With a bunny slipper or something else of that plush-but-flat-enough-to-leave-a-mark variety. When it happens he’ll deserve it, too. “Now there’s no getting away, huh?”

It has him smirking. He’s got you in a state, in such submission only he could deliver upon you. Where he expects a snark, there’s a whimper. A huffy glare replaced by the glossy sheen of longing and lusting, a hazy film over your eyes. Like a dated movie, a vintage film. Where everything feels romanticised and soft and all is right with the world. God, he has to stop staring at you or he won’t get to fucking you until the bed breaks.

There was something far too intoxicating about relinquishing your hold on reality like this, letting Leon take the reigns as he railed you stupid. You were in his hold, in his arms, in his control. His security. He was doing this because he loved you, the boner he happened to pop in the process just happened to be a happy accident.

And said happy accident now has him lining his hard-on up with your folds, tracing a teasing line for the sake of it before letting himself dip. Drag. Just the tip at first, simply to watch the way your face contorts and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, almost studying how he feels inside you. And then you’re flailing again, as if your hands want to clamber and touch and reach but to no avail, not while they’re bound. Not while you’re at Leon’s mercy. And fuck, if it isn’t hot. Another inch. And then another. He’s swimming in his own horny, lusted thoughts to try and hold off on letting go too fast. Clenching his eyes shut to get his shit together, because he knows if he looks at you he’s a goner.

It’s almost too much when Leon’s finally sunk all the way into the welcoming heat of your cunt, a bitten back groan finally tearing from his chest. He didn’t even realise he was holding it in, not until he was fighting to stop himself from blowing his load straight away. Two pump chump much, Leon? What about his reputation? Surely he could last longer, if not for him then for you. After all, this was all your idea.

But then you moan, a reedy whine from your throat plucked from a harp string. Heaven.

“Leon-”

Nope. Nope, nope it was definitely crawling up his spine like the world’s most venomous spider, tendrils winding so shiveringly past his ribs to bloom in his chest. Stop sounding like that or he’s gonna lose it.

“Jesus christ don’t- don’t say my name like that, angel. I’m gonna bust one before I even start moving.” A hoarse chuckle forces from his chest to suppress the urge to whine.

You’re perfection. You’re something that’s illicit and he wants to inhale you so deep into his lungs that he becomes an addict to your presence, your essence. Your sex appeal. He needs you to know that you are the most gorgeous thing in the world to him, with or without clothes on.

“I gotcha, honey.” His voice wavers like there’s a lump in his throat, and soon enough he's giving a hesitant, slow and deep roll into the slickness of your pussy. And holy shit. Any man who was celibate was a fucking idiot, because this was the closest to heaven Leon would ever get.

This is addiction at its finest. Leon’s addicted to you. Staring down with blown out eyes, taking in the view of his body moving with your own. Staring at where you connect. Maybe it’s the intimacy of it all that’s gonna make him nut. God, he needs to find a better word for that. Nut. Ew.

He had to make you cum now, or risk leaving you unsatisfied, because he wasn’t lasting at all. And he might just die if that happens. God, what if you flamed him in the groupchat with your girlfriends? He can’t have that. Needs to put his knowledge of your body to good use.

Thumb fumbling, he tries to get down to your clit in this position, and when he grazes the bundle of nerves with the curve of his nail he almost sighs in relief.

Okay, real talk. In any other scenario he’d find it just fine. Swears on it. He knows where the clit is, he’s very experienced in finding it any other time, it’s just a little more.. Complicated right now. Could anyone seriously find it easily with their girlfriend tied up and moaning like a porn star in their ear? Didn’t think so. Get off his back. All that matters is now you’re squeaking out a moan, clit throbbing under his touch and cunt squelching lewdly. God, his apartment must sound like a 90’s porno right now, not that he cares. Fuck his upstairs neighbours anyway.

He’s never felt so strained before, so hung up and wound tight. You bring that out in him, have him bracing shaking arms on either side of your head to abandon his hold on the harness. Leon just needs to look at you. Feel the way you flutter and arch and buck, the way you squeeze on instinct as your climax approaches. His pace quickens, humping into the clenching heat of your heat like his life depends on it. Watching, listening as you whimper, feeling how you writhe to meet every drive of his fat cock.

His voice is worn, weary, desperate. “C’mon baby, ease up for me. You gotta cum, I can feel it.” Yep. Focus back on the thrust of his hips, the way he’s cupping your cheeks so you look him dead in the eye. “Cum for me.”

It bubbles in your stomach to a burst. A heat so heavy you feel like molten sand, but Leon’s there to hold you. To sculpt you. To let you bloom into one of those glass roses, the forever ones he keeps seeing online. He’ll have to buy you one, maybe a few.

After he’s pumped a good load into you, of course.

It takes over your body like a wave of pure lightning, legs quaking and form almost vibrating at the sheer force of your orgasm. A snapped cry from your lips that lets Leon know he’s done a good job so far. Because he’s never heard you make that sound before. Not with every other time you’ve had sex, and he knows as a matter of fact you weren’t faking that. And nor were you now. This really was your kink, huh?

��Jesus- fuck-” Leon sounds choked, breathless. Like the grip you’ve got on his dick with every shake of your body is drawing all the air from his lungs. Usually your boyfriend’s careful about pulling out, wearing a condom, your birth control, all that shebang. But who is he to deny his sweet girl of a creampie for doing such a good job?

He has to tell his brain that, at first. Because it takes him a second for his neurons to fire and go ‘yes. We’re doing this on purpose.�� But once the lingering anxiety is blown out of the water - and his balls - it’s rather easy to go along with it. Thrusting heavy, with hard strokes up into the sweet warmth of your body until his brain short circuits. Groaning something deep and dirty in his throat as he lets himself stutter in pace until he’s sure he’s cumming inside of you, and soon enough that unfamiliar warmth you’ve always read and heard about is seeping into your pussy. It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Christ, if you both knew it’d feel this good you’d hop on the morning after pill and go at it like rabbits.

This must be what utter bliss is. Floating, embracing, yearning. A satisfaction only one person can provide as he pants and huffs above your exhausted body. As he rubs a hand over your face and asks you if you’re alright. If you feel safe. And you do.

Despite vigorously ruining your ability to walk, Leon still cares for you in such a gentle way. Even now as he pulls out of you and wipes you down with a warm cloth. Even now as he carefully eases you onto your tummy to help with unwrapping your bound wrists. The plush of the pillows a soft place to land after having your brains turned to mush. Sharing your kinks with him turned out to be like a bonding experience but so much more. A bond-age experience (he’d be proud of that one, you’re sure of it.)

“Christ, I did good on these ropes.” That is until the confused mutter from your boyfriend snaps you out of your post-sex haze, your lashes fluttering. “Let me just-”

“..What?”

“Wasn’t thinking with my dick when I was tying these apparently, cause.. Wow.”

“Leon!”

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orexin-objection · 1 month ago

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♡ 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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