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pucksandpower · 2 months

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For the Best

Logan Sargeant x Wolff!Reader

Summary: Logan thinks that losing his Williams seat marks the beginning of the end … little does he know that it’s really just the start of the rest of his life

Logan steps into the cool, air-conditioned room, his race suit clinging to his skin after a grueling drive. The contrast between the bustling paddock and the quiet meeting room is jarring, and he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

His team principal sits at the head of the table, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Beside him, to Logan’s surprise, is the imposing figure of Mercedes’ team principal.

“Logan, thanks for coming,” James begins, his voice careful and measured. “Please, have a seat.”

Logan slides into a chair, his heart rate picking up. “What’s this about?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

James and Toto exchange a glance before James clears his throat. “Logan, you’ve been a valuable part of our team, and we’ve appreciated your dedication and hard work.”

The use of past tense doesn’t escape Logan’s notice. His stomach drops.

“But?” Logan prompts, bracing himself.

James sighs. “But we’ve decided to go in a different direction for next season. We’ll be announcing tomorrow that we’re signing Carlos Sainz.”

The words hit Logan like a physical blow. He knew his seat wasn’t secure, but hearing it confirmed ... it’s devastating.

“I-I see,” Logan manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

Toto leans forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Logan. “This is where I come in, Logan. We’ve been watching your progress closely, and while Williams may not have a race seat for you next year, we see potential in you.”

Logan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Mercedes and Williams would like to offer you a position as a reserve driver for next season,” Toto explains. “It would give you the opportunity to stay involved in F1, continue your development, and potentially step in if needed.”

Logan’s mind races. It’s not a race seat, but it’s something. A lifeline in a sport that can be ruthlessly unforgiving.

“I ... I don’t know what to say,” Logan admits, his voice shaky.

James leans in, his expression softening. “Logan, I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But this could be a great opportunity for you. You’d be working with one of the top teams in the sport.”

Logan nods slowly, trying to process everything. “Can I ask ... why? Why make this decision now?”

James shifts uncomfortably. “It’s a combination of factors. Carlos became available, and with his experience ...”

“You think he can bring more to the team,” Logan finishes, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Logan,” Toto interjects, his tone firm but not unkind. “This sport is brutal, we all know that. But it’s also about timing and opportunities. This reserve role could set you up for future success.”

Logan takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “And if I say no? If I want to pursue other options?”

James and Toto exchange another glance. “That’s your prerogative,” James says carefully. “But I would strongly advise you to consider this offer. It’s not often a driver gets this kind of opportunity with a team like Mercedes.”

Logan nods, his mind whirling. “How long do I have to decide?”

“We’d need an answer by the end of the week,” Toto replies. “We understand this is a big decision, but we also need to move forward with our plans.”

Logan stands up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small room. “I ... I need some time to think about this. Is that okay?”

James nods, standing as well. “Of course, Logan. Take the time you need. But please, keep this conversation confidential until the announcement on Monday.”

Logan nods numbly, turning towards the door. As he reaches for the handle, Toto’s voice stops him.

“Logan,” the Mercedes boss says, his tone softer than before. “I know this feels like a setback. But sometimes, a step back can lead to two steps forward. Don’t lose faith in yourself.”

Logan meets Toto’s gaze, seeing a mix of sympathy and determination in the older man’s eyes. He manages a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Wolff. I’ll ... I’ll be in touch.”

As Logan steps out of the room, the hectic sounds of the paddock wash over him. And not for the first time in his F1 career, he feels completely lost in the familiar chaos.

***

Logan sits alone at a table in the Mercedes cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate. It’s his first day as a reserve driver, and the reality of his situation is sinking in. The familiar faces he’d grown accustomed to at Williams are replaced by a sea of strangers, all wearing the unmistakable Mercedes black and silver.

He takes a halfhearted bite of his chicken, lost in thought. The clink of a tray beside him startles him out of his reverie.

“Mind if I join you?” A cheerful voice asks.

Logan looks up to see a young woman with a bright smile sliding into the seat across from him. Her eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity.

“Uh, sure,” Logan manages, caught off guard by the unexpected company.

You beam at him, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N. You must be Logan, right? The new reserve driver?”

Logan nods, shaking your hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“So, how’s your first day going?” You ask, digging into your own lunch with enthusiasm.

Logan shrugs, trying to muster up some positivity. “It’s ... different. Still trying to find my bearings, I guess.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It must be a big change from Williams. But hey, everyone here is pretty friendly once you get to know them. Give it time.”

Logan finds himself relaxing a bit in the face of your easy-going demeanor. “Thanks. I appreciate that. So, uh, what do you do here?”

You laugh, a melodious sound that draws a few glances from nearby tables. “Oh, a bit of everything, really. I like to keep busy. But tell me more about you! How are you finding Brackley compared to Grove?”

Logan blinks, surprised by your genuine interest. “It’s ... bigger, for sure. More advanced facilities. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

You lean in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? It can be overwhelming for all of us sometimes. But that’s what makes it exciting, right?”

A small smile tugs at Logan’s lips. “I guess you’re right. It’s just ... I keep thinking about what could have been, you know? If I’d kept my race seat ...”

Your expression softens. “I get it. It’s tough to feel like you’re taking a step back. But sometimes, that step back gives you the perspective you need to leap forward.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “You sound like To- I mean, Mr. Wolff.”

You grin mischievously. “Well, great minds think alike, I suppose. But seriously, Logan, try to see this as an opportunity. You’re working with one of the best teams in F1. There’s so much you can learn here.”

Logan nods slowly, your enthusiasm starting to rub off on him. “You’re right. I should be grateful for this chance. It’s just hard not to feel a bit ... lost, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” you assure him. “But you know what? I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here. You’ve got that spark, Logan. I can see it.”

Logan feels a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. “Thanks, Y/N. That ... that means a lot.”

You wave off his gratitude with a smile. “Hey, newbies have to stick together, right?”

Logan tilts his head, confused. “Newbies? How long have you been here?”

You laugh again, and Logan finds himself thinking it’s a sound he could get used to. “Oh, I’ve been around forever. But I still feel new sometimes. This place is always evolving, always pushing forward. It keeps you on your toes.”

Logan nods, understanding dawning. “I can see that. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. Everyone here seems so ... focused. Driven.”

“That’s the Mercedes way,” you agree. “But don’t let it psych you out. We’re all human here. Well, except for the cars, of course.”

Logan chuckles, surprising himself. It’s the first time he’s laughed since ... well, since that meeting with James and Toto.

“So,” you continue, leaning forward with interest, “tell me about your journey. How did you end up in F1?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, then finds himself opening up. He tells you about his early days in karting, the move to Europe, the struggles and triumphs in the junior categories. You listen intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering encouragement.

“... and then Williams gave me my shot,” Logan concludes. “It was a dream come true, you know? But now ...”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, your F1 journey isn’t over. It’s just taking a different path. And who knows? This could lead to even better things.”

Logan feels a flutter in his chest at your touch, quickly pushing the feeling aside. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say with conviction. “You’ve got talent. Anyone can see that. And now you’ve got the backing of Mercedes. That’s a powerful combination.”

Logan finds himself smiling, your optimism infectious. “Thanks, Y/N. I ... I really needed to hear that today.”

You wink at him. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Logan echoes, surprised but pleased.

“Of course!” you exclaim. “Unless you’d rather keep eating lunch alone?”

Logan shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Friends sounds good. Great, actually.”

You beam at him. “Excellent. Now, let me give you the inside scoop on the best coffee spots around here. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

As you launch into a detailed description of the various cafes and their specialties, Logan finds himself relaxing fully for the first time since arriving at Mercedes. Your easy banter and genuine interest make him feel welcome, like he might actually belong here after all.

“... and whatever you do, avoid the vending machine on the third floor,” you’re saying. “It ate my money twice last week, and-”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Logan looks up to see Toto Wolff standing beside their table, his imposing figure casting a shadow. Logan immediately straightens, suddenly very aware of his posture.

“Oh, hi Vati!” You say brightly.

Logan’s brain short-circuits. Vati? His eyes dart between you and Toto, noticing for the first time the similarities in your features.

Toto smiles warmly at you, then drops a kiss on top of your head. “I see you’re making our new reserve driver feel welcome.”

You grin up at your father. “Of course! Someone has to show him the ropes around here.”

Toto nods approvingly, then turns to Logan. “I hope my daughter isn’t talking your ear off. She can be quite enthusiastic.”

Logan, still reeling from the revelation, manages to stammer out, “N-no, sir. She’s been very helpful.”

“Good,” Toto says. “Y/N, don’t forget about the meeting at three. Logan, keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the simulator next week.”

With that, Toto strides away, leaving Logan staring at you in shock.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Logan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan tries to speak, fails, then tries again. “You ... you’re Toto Wolff’s daughter?”

You nod, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Yep. Did I forget to mention that?”

Logan feels his face heating up. “I-I had no idea. I thought you were in PR or something.”

You burst out laughing. “PR? Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m more of a behind-the-scenes type. Strategy, data analysis, that sort of thing.”

Logan’s mind is reeling. He’s been sitting here, pouring his heart out to his boss’s daughter. The boss’s daughter who is smart, funny, and undeniably attractive. The boss’s daughter who he might have been developing a tiny crush on.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says, mortified. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Logan, relax. I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago. The only thing that’s changed is that now you know I have an overprotective dad who happens to run the team.”

Logan swallows hard. “Right. No pressure or anything.”

You lean in, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hey, look on the bright side. Now you’ve got an inside track to the big boss. Just don’t ask me to put in a good word for you. I have a strict no nepotism policy.”

Despite his embarrassment, Logan finds himself chuckling. “Noted. I’ll just have to impress him on my own merits, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” you say, raising your water bottle in a mock toast. “To new beginnings and unexpected friendships.”

Logan clinks his own bottle against yours, a smile spreading across his face despite his lingering shock. “To new beginnings,” he echoes.

As you launch back into conversation, Logan can’t help but think that his time at Mercedes might be more interesting than he’d anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, this step back might lead to something amazing after all.

***

Logan leans against the table, his eyes fixed on the monitors displaying George Russell’s lap times. The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit, but inside the Mercedes garage, the atmosphere is tense with concentration as pre-season testing commences.

“Looking good, George,” Marcus Dudley, his race engineer, says into the radio. “Let’s push for one more flying lap before we bring you in.”

Logan nods to himself, impressed by George’s consistency. He’s about to turn to grab a water bottle when a collective gasp from the crew draws his attention back to the screens.

George’s car is spinning, kicking up dust and gravel as it careens towards the barrier. The sickening crunch of carbon fiber meeting concrete echoes through the speakers.

“George, are you okay?” Marcus calls urgently. “George, do you copy?”

Silence.

Logan’s heart races as he watches the still car, willing George to respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you rushing past, your face pale with worry.

“Carmen,” you call out, spotting George’s girlfriend near the back of the garage. You reach her just as her knees seem to give out, catching her before she falls.

Logan wants to help, but he knows his place. He turns back to the screens, straining to hear any news.

Marcus tries again, his voice tight with concern. “George, if you can hear me, give us any sign. Tap the radio, move your hand, anything.”

Still nothing.

The garage erupts into controlled chaos. Toto strides in, his face a mask of worry. “What happened?” He demands.

“Lost the rear in turn 11,” one of the engineers reports. “Looks like a suspension failure, but we won’t know for sure until we get the car back.”

Toto nods grimly. “And George?”

Marcus shakes his head. “No response on the radio.”

Logan watches as the medical car speeds towards the crash site. He catches snippets of radio chatter from the marshals.

“Driver non-responsive ... possible head trauma ... prepare for extraction ...”

The words send a chill down Logan’s spine. This is the dark side of the sport they all love, the ever-present danger that lurks behind every high-speed corner.

You appear at Logan’s side, your face etched with worry. “Any news?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing yet. They’re working on getting him out now.”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Carmen ... she’s not doing well. I’ve got Aleix with her now.”

Logan glances over to where Carmen sits, hunched over, the arm of George’s performance coach around her shoulders. The sight makes his chest tighten.

“This is my fault,” you murmur.

Logan turns to you, surprised. “What? How could this possibly be your fault?”

You run a hand through your hair, frustration evident in every movement. “I was the one who pushed for the new suspension design. If I had just stuck with the old one ...”

“Hey,” Logan says firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. George knows the risks. This isn’t on you.”

You give him a weak smile, gratitude flashing in your eyes. “Thanks, Logan. I just ... I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Before Logan can respond, a flurry of activity on the screens catches their attention. The medical team has successfully extracted George from the car.

“He’s out,” Marcus announces, his relief palpable. “Still unconscious, but he’s breathing on his own.”

A collective sigh of relief ripples through the garage. Carmen lets out a sob, burying her face in Aleix’s shoulder.

Toto approaches you and Logan, his face grim but composed. “They’re airlifting him to the hospital for full scans. Y/N, I need you to go with Carmen. Logan, I want you suited up and ready. If George can’t drive ...”

The implication hangs in the air. Logan nods, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

As Toto moves away to handle the press, you turn to Logan. “Are you okay?” You ask, concern evident in your voice.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted my chance to come.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “I know. But George would want you to do your best. That’s all any of us can do right now.”

Logan nods, trying to steel himself for what might come next. “You’re right. Go take care of Carmen. I’ll ... I’ll be here if you need me.”

You give him a grateful smile before hurrying off to Carmen’s side. Logan watches as you gently lead her out of the garage, whispering words of comfort.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Logan finds himself going through the motions of preparation, all while keeping an ear out for any news about George. The garage is unnaturally quiet, the usual banter and joking replaced by tense whispers and worried glances.

Finally, Marcus approaches Logan, his face drawn with fatigue. “They’re loading George into the chopper now. Toto wants you on standby, but we won’t make any decisions until we hear from the medical team.”

Logan nods, his stomach churning with a mix of concern for George and nervous anticipation. “Understood. How ... how does he look?”

Marcus sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Still unconscious, but stable. They’re optimistic, but they won’t know more until they run some tests at the hospital.”

As if on cue, the distant thrum of helicopter blades fills the air. Logan steps out of the garage, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watches the medical helicopter rise into the sky, carrying George away.

You appear beside him, your eyes red-rimmed but dry. “Carmen’s gone with him,” you say softly. “Vati arranged for a car to take her to the hospital.”

Logan nods, not taking his eyes off the retreating helicopter. “This is the part of the job we try not to think about, isn’t it?”

You lean against him slightly, seeking comfort. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget sometimes, when everything’s going well. But days like today ... they remind us of the reality.”

Logan wraps an arm around your shoulders, offering what support he can. “George is tough. He’ll pull through this.”

You nod against his shoulder. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”

As the helicopter disappears from view, Logan feels the weight of the moment settle over him. The exhilaration of potentially getting his chance to drive is tempered by the circumstances that might make it possible.

“Come on,” he says gently, guiding you back towards the garage. “Let’s get back inside. There’s work to be done, and George would kick our butts if he knew we were standing around moping.”

You manage a weak chuckle. “You’re right. He’d probably tell us to get back to optimizing the aero package or something.”

As they walk back into the garage, Logan can’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere. The team moves with renewed purpose, channeling their worry into productivity.

Toto approaches them, his face set in determined lines. “Logan, I need you in the simulator within the hour. If George can’t drive, we need you ready to step in at a moment’s notice.”

Logan straightens, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I won’t let the team down.”

Toto nods approvingly. “I know you won’t. Y/N, I need you to liaise with the medical team. Keep me updated on George’s condition.”

You nod, already pulling out your phone. “On it, Vati.”

As Toto moves away, Logan turns to you. “Hey,” he says softly, “we’ve got this, okay? Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Logan. I ... I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Me too,” he says. “Now, let’s show everyone what Mercedes is made of.”

***

Logan’s heart pounds as he approaches Toto’s office. The events of the past twenty-four hours have left him in a state of emotional whiplash, torn between concern for George and the possibility of his own opportunity.

He knocks on the door, hearing Toto’s muffled “Come in.” Taking a deep breath, Logan enters.

Toto looks up from his desk, his face etched with fatigue. “Logan, thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”

Logan sinks into the chair across from Toto, his mouth suddenly dry. “How ... how’s George?” He manages to ask.

Toto sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Not good, I’m afraid. The doctors have completed their initial assessments. George has suffered multiple injuries — a concussion, fractured ribs, and a broken collarbone. The most concerning is a compound fracture in his left leg.”

Logan winces, imagining the pain George must be in. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” Toto confirms. “The medical team estimates his recovery will take around nine months. Which brings me to why I’ve called you here.”

Logan’s pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and guilt churning in his stomach.

Toto leans forward, his gaze intense. “We need you to step up, Logan. The team needs you to drive full-time for the entire season.”

Despite having suspected this might be coming, hearing the words out loud leaves Logan momentarily speechless.

“I ... of course, sir,” he finally manages. “I’ll do whatever the team needs.”

Toto nods, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “I know this isn’t how you wanted your chance to come. But I believe you’re ready for this. George believes it too.”

Logan’s head snaps up. “You’ve spoken to George?”

“Briefly,” Toto confirms. “He’s still groggy from the pain medication, but he was clear on one thing — he wants you in that car.”

A lump forms in Logan’s throat. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

Toto stands, coming around the desk to place a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything. Just drive, Logan. Show us what you’re capable of.”

Logan nods, standing as well. “I won’t let you down, sir. Or George.”

As he turns to leave, Toto’s voice stops him. “Logan? Remember, this is your chance. Don’t waste it feeling guilty. George wouldn’t want that.”

Logan manages a weak smile. “I’ll try to remember that. Thank you, Toto.”

Stepping out of Toto’s office, Logan feels as though he’s in a daze. This is what he’s been working towards his entire career — a full-time drive with a top team. So why does it feel so complicated?

Instead of heading to the cafeteria or his driver’s room, Logan finds himself walking towards the simulator. He nods at the technician on duty, who looks surprised to see him.

“Logan? We weren’t expecting you today ...”

“I know,” Logan says, already reaching for his racing gloves. “But I need to be in there. Can you set up a long run in Melbourne?”

The technician hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Just ... don’t overdo it, okay?”

Logan manages a tight smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

As he settles into the simulator, Logan feels a sense of calm wash over him. Here, in this imitation of a race car, things make sense. There’s no guilt, no complicated emotions — just him, the track, and the pursuit of speed.

Hours pass in a blur of virtual laps and telemetry data. Logan pushes himself harder with each run, shaving off tenths of a second here and there. He’s so focused that he doesn’t hear the door open behind him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are labor laws against working this hard,” your voice cuts through his concentration.

Logan startles, nearly losing control of the virtual car. He quickly ends the simulation and turns to face you, sheepishly running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding up a small box. “Clearly. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, watching you try to bend the laws of physics.”

Logan manages a weak chuckle. “Just trying to get up to speed. What’s in the box?”

You grin, opening it to reveal a single cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “A little celebration. Vati told me about your promotion.”

The sight of the cupcake makes Logan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “I ... I don’t really feel like celebrating.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of understanding. “I get it. But Logan, running yourself ragged in here won’t help anyone. Least of all George.”

Logan sighs, slumping in the simulator seat. “I know. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. George is hurt and I’m benefiting from it. It feels wrong.”

You set the cupcake down and perch on the edge of the simulator, your eyes soft with sympathy. “Logan, listen to me. What happened to George is terrible, but it’s not your fault. And taking this opportunity doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Logan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should be devastated that my teammate is hurt, not ... not excited about getting my chance.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “Who says you can’t be both? You can be worried about George and excited about your opportunity. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Logan looks up at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “I just ... I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

You shake your head firmly. “Anyone who knows you would never think that. And you know what? George wouldn’t want you feeling this way. He’d want you to grab this chance with both hands and show everyone what you can do.”

Logan manages a small smile. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

“That’s because I am,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “I talked to George earlier. You know what he said? He said, and I quote, ‘Tell that American idiot to stop moping and start driving. I didn’t crash just for him to waste this chance.’”

A surprised laugh escapes Logan. “He really said that?”

You grin. “Well, maybe I paraphrased a bit. The pain meds make him a little ... colorful. But the sentiment is there.”

Logan shakes his head, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “George Russell, giving pep talks from his hospital bed. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know him,” you say simply. “And you know he’s right. Logan, this is your moment. Don’t let guilt or fear hold you back.”

Logan takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Both of you. I just ... I needed to hear it, I guess.”

You smile, reaching for the cupcake. “That’s what friends are for. Now, are you going to help me eat this or do I have to force-feed you?”

Logan chuckles, accepting the cupcake. “I wouldn’t dream of making you eat alone.”

As the two of you share the small treat, Logan feels something shift inside him. The guilt doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s tempered now by determination. George is counting on him, the team is counting on him, and he’s not going to let them down.

“So,” you say, licking frosting off your finger, “what’s next on the agenda, hotshot? More simulator laps?”

Logan shakes his head, a newfound energy coursing through him. “No, I think I’ve done enough of that for today. I was thinking maybe we could go over some of the race strategies? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Your eyes light up. “Are you kidding? Strategy talk is my favorite kind of talk. But first, you’re going to take a shower and eat a proper meal. Can’t have our driver passing out from exhaustion, can we?”

Logan grins, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since George’s accident. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

As you leave the simulator together, Logan feels a surge of gratitude. For George’s support, for the team’s faith in him, and for your friendship. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows he won’t face them alone.

“Hey, Y/N?” He says as you walk down the corridor.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

You bump your shoulder against his, a warm smile on your face. “Anytime, Sargeant. Now, let’s go plot your path to Formula 1 glory. I hear the catering team made lasagna today.”

Logan laughs, matching your stride. The road ahead won’t be easy, but with friends like you by his side, he’s ready to face whatever comes his way.

***

The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit as Logan sits in his Mercedes, heart pounding in his chest. The familiar pre-race butterflies are amplified tenfold — this isn’t just any race, it’s his debut for Mercedes.

“Okay Logan, how are we feeling?” Marcus Dudley’s voice crackles through the radio.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Remember, clean start, manage those tires, and we’ll see where we end up. You’ve got this, kid.”

As the formation lap begins, Logan can’t help but think of George, watching from his hospital bed. This one’s for you, he thinks.

“And we’re off for the formation lap here in Melbourne. All eyes are on Logan Sargeant today, the young American making his Mercedes debut in rather unexpected circumstances.”

“That’s right, Crofty. It’s a big ask, stepping into George Russell’s shoes after that nasty crash in testing. But Toto Wolff clearly sees something in Sargeant, and this is his chance to prove the Mercedes boss right.”

The cars line up on the grid. Logan’s eyes are fixed on the lights. Red ... red ... red ...

“Lights out and away we go!”

Logan reacts instantly, getting a clean start off the line. He holds his position into the first corner, fending off a challenge from behind.

“And it’s a good start for Sargeant, maintaining his fifth place into Turn 1. His rookie teammate Kimi Antonelli has also held position in seventh.”

The first few laps are a blur of intense focus. Logan settles into a rhythm, hitting his marks and managing the gap to the cars ahead and behind.

“Great job, Logan,” Marcus says. “You’re keeping pace with the leaders. Let’s see if we can put some pressure on Norris ahead.”

Logan grits his teeth, pushing harder. He closes the gap to Lando’s McLaren, looking for any opportunity to make a move.

“Sargeant is really impressing here in his Mercedes debut. He’s matching the pace of the frontrunners and is now right on the gearbox of Lando Norris.”

On lap 15, Logan sees his chance. Norris locks up slightly into Turn 3, and Logan pounces, sweeping around the outside to take fourth place.

“Yes!” Logan exclaims, unable to contain his excitement.

“Brilliant move, Logan!” Marcus cheers. “P4 now, let’s keep this up!”

“What a pass from Sargeant! He’s showing no signs of first-race nerves here, making a bold move on the more experienced McLaren driver. The Mercedes pit wall will no doubt be delighted with this performance so far.”

The race continues, with Logan holding his position firmly. He’s in a rhythm now, hitting every apex, managing his tires expertly.

Around the halfway point, things get more challenging. “Logan, we’ve got Verstappen closing in behind. He’s on fresher tires, so don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Marcus warns.

Logan nods to himself, adjusting his focus. He defends hard but fair, making his car as wide as possible on the straights.

“Verstappen is all over the back of Sargeant now. This is a real test for the young American — can he hold off the reigning world champion?”

For several laps, Logan and Max engage in a thrilling battle. Logan uses every trick in his arsenal, positioning his car perfectly to deny Max any opportunity.

“This is exceptional defensive driving from Sargeant. He’s not putting a wheel wrong under immense pressure from Verstappen.”

Finally, on lap 42, Max makes his move, slipping past Logan into Turn 1.

“Verstappen’s through,” Logan reports, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No worries, Logan,” Marcus reassures him. “You did brilliantly to hold him off for so long. We’re still on for a great result here. Keep pushing!”

The final laps of the race are a test of endurance. Logan’s arms ache, his neck strains against the g-forces, but he pushes through the fatigue.

“As we enter the final lap here in Melbourne, Logan Sargeant is holding steady in fifth place. What a debut this has been for the American in the Mercedes!”

Logan crosses the finish line, a mix of exhaustion and elation washing over him. He’s done it — he’s finished his first race for Mercedes.

“And that’s the chequered flag, Logan!” Marcus’ voice comes through, filled with excitement. “P4! Fantastic job, mate!”

Logan blinks in confusion. “P4? But Verstappen passed me ...”

“Leclerc had a late puncture,” Marcus explains. “You moved back up to fourth. I’m completely serious, Logan. You’ve just finished P4 in your first race for us. You should be incredibly proud.”

The reality of his achievement starts to sink in. “I ... wow. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you to everyone on the team. This is ... it’s incredible.”

As Logan does his cool-down lap, waving to the cheering crowds, he feels a surge of emotion. This is what he’s worked for his entire life, and he’s proved he belongs here.

“What a drive from Logan Sargeant! Fourth place in his Mercedes debut. Toto Wolff must be feeling very good about his decision right now.”

“Absolutely, Martin. Sargeant has shown real maturity and pace today. This could be the start of something special for the young American.”

Logan pulls into parc fermé, parking behind the top three cars. As he climbs out, he’s immediately engulfed in a group hug by the Mercedes team.

Toto appears, a broad smile on his face. “Excellent job, Logan. You’ve made us all very proud today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan says, still slightly dazed. “I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support.”

As Logan makes his way through the paddock, he’s stopped by various team members and even rival drivers offering congratulations. It’s surreal, but Logan soaks in every moment.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar face pushing through the crowd. You’re beaming, your eyes shining with pride and unshed tears.

“Logan!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “That was amazing! I knew you could do it!”

Logan hugs you back, laughing. “I can hardly believe it myself. P4 ... it’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders. “Well, believe it. You earned this, Logan. Every single bit of it.”

As you chat excitedly about the race, Logan’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see a message from George.

Not bad for a newbie. Next time aim for the podium 😉 Seriously though, great job. Proud of you.

Logan grins, showing you the message. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next race.”

You laugh, linking your arm through his. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re up for the challenge. But first, I think this calls for a celebration. Vati is organizing a team dinner. You up for it?”

Logan nods, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Australian heat. “Absolutely. Lead the way!”

As you walk towards the Mercedes hospitality area, Logan can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind of the past few weeks. From reserve driver to P4 in his debut race with the team — it’s more than he could have ever imagined.

“Hey,” you say softly, nudging him. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan smiles, squeezing your arm gently. “Just ... grateful. For this opportunity, for the team’s faith in me, for your support. I couldn’t have done this without you, Y/N.”

You blush slightly, looking pleased. “That’s what friends are for, right? Now come on, American boy. Time to bask in your well-deserved glory.”

As you join the celebrating team, Logan feels a sense of belonging wash over him. This is where he’s meant to be, and he’s ready for whatever challenges and triumphs lie ahead.

***

The Miami sun beats down on the podium as Logan stands there, still in disbelief. The weight of the P2 trophy in his hands feels surreal, a reminder of what he’s just achieved. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the elation of his first podium finish — it’s almost too much to process.

As he steps down from the podium, sticky with champagne and grinning from ear to ear, Logan is immediately engulfed by the Mercedes team. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but it all becomes a blur as he spots a familiar figure pushing through the crowd.

You burst through, your eyes shining with pride and excitement. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, not caring about the champagne that’s now soaking into your team shirt.

“Logan! Oh my god, you did it!” You exclaim, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Logan laughs, wrapping his free arm around you and spinning you both around in a moment of pure joy. “I can hardly believe it myself,” he admits as he sets you down. “It’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders, beaming up at him. “Well, believe it, hotshot. P2 in your home race — you’ve earned this!”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Miami heat. “Thanks, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support. Without your support.”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Oh no, this was all you out there on the track. But speaking of support ...” Your eyes sparkle mischievously. “We absolutely have to celebrate properly tonight. Miami style!”

Logan raises an eyebrow, amused. “Miami style? Should I be worried?”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart skip a beat. “Only if you’re afraid of having too much fun. Come on, it’s your first podium, in your home race no less! We have to mark the occasion.”

Before Logan can respond, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Promise me you’ll come out with the team tonight,” you say, your eyes locked on his. “No excuses about needing to analyze data or whatever. Tonight, we celebrate!”

Logan nods, still a bit dazed from the kiss. “I ... yeah, of course. I promise.”

You beam at him. “Perfect! I’ll text you the details later. Now, go bask in your well-deserved glory. I think there are about a hundred journalists waiting to talk to Miami’s new hero.”

With a wink, you disappear back into the crowd, leaving Logan standing there, trophy in hand and mind reeling.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of interviews, photographs, and congratulations. Logan goes through the motions, answering questions on autopilot while his mind keeps drifting back to that moment with you.

It didn’t mean anything, he tells himself. You’re European, after all. Cheek kisses are just a normal thing, right? It was just excitement over the podium, nothing more.

But try as he might, Logan can’t shake the memory of your lips on his cheek, the way his heart raced at your touch.

“Earth to Logan,” Marcus’ voice cuts through his thoughts. “You still with us, mate?”

Logan blinks, focusing on his race engineer. “Sorry, what was that?”

Marcus grins knowingly. “I said, great job out there today. You should be proud. But maybe save the daydreaming for after the debrief, yeah?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “Right, sorry. Just ... still processing everything, I guess.”

“I bet,” Marcus chuckles. “First podium’s always special. Even more so on home turf. Now, let’s go over those last few laps ...”

As they dive into the race analysis, Logan tries to focus. But his mind keeps wandering. To the podium. To the celebration to come. To you.

It’s just excitement over the race result, he rationalizes. You’re his boss’s daughter, for crying out loud. And more importantly, you’re his friend. One of his best friends, if he’s honest with himself. He can’t risk messing that up by reading too much into a friendly gesture.

The debrief finally ends, and Logan heads back to his driver’s room to change. As he’s pulling on a fresh team shirt, his phone buzzes with a text from you.

E11EVEN at 10 PM. Wear something nice 😘 Can’t wait to celebrate with you!

Logan stares at the message, his heart doing that annoying skip thing again. It’s just a normal text, he tells himself. Friends celebrate together all the time. The kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is ridiculous. He just achieved his first podium in Formula 1, at his home race no less. He should be on top of the world, not overthinking a simple friendly interaction.

As he leaves the track, Logan is stopped by a group of fans clamoring for autographs and selfies. He obliges with a smile, the excitement of the crowd helping to lift his mood.

“Logan! Logan!” A young boy calls out. “You were amazing today! I want to be just like you when I grow up!”

Logan kneels down to the boy’s level, touched by his enthusiasm. “Thanks, buddy. Just remember, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. But if you believe in yourself and never give up, you can achieve anything.”

The boy nods solemnly, clutching his newly signed cap to his chest. “I will! I’m going to practice every day!”

As Logan stands, he catches sight of you talking to some team members nearby. You glance over, catching his eye, and give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. Logan feels that now-familiar flutter in his chest and quickly turns back to the fans.

It’s going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.

Back at the hotel, Logan takes his time getting ready for the celebration. He stands in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair and second-guessing his outfit choice. Why is he so nervous? It’s just a team celebration, like dozens he’s been to before.

But it’s not just any celebration, a voice in his head reminds him. It’s his first podium celebration. And you’ll be there.

Logan groans, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. “Get it together, Sargeant,” he mutters to his reflection. “It’s just a night out with the team. With your friend. Your boss’s daughter. Who you definitely don’t have any non-platonic feelings for.”

Even he doesn’t believe himself.

A knock at the door startles him out of his internal monologue. “Logan? You ready?” Kimi’s voice calls out.

Logan takes a deep breath, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Yeah, coming!” He calls back.

As he joins Kimi in the hallway, his teammate gives him an appraising look. “Not bad, Sargeant. Trying to impress someone?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “What? No, I just ... wanted to look nice for the celebration.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Uh-huh. Sure. Come on, lover boy. Your adoring public awaits.”

As they make their way to the club, Logan tries to calm his nerves. It’s just a normal team celebration, he tells himself. Nothing to be nervous about. You’re just friends. Really good friends who sometimes share cheek kisses and make his heart race with a simple smile.

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s in trouble and he knows it.

The bass from the club is audible from down the street, and as they approach, Logan sees a line stretching around the block. But Kimi leads him straight to the VIP entrance, where they’re immediately ushered inside.

The club is a sensory overload — pulsing music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies on the dance floor. Logan blinks, trying to adjust to the atmosphere. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see you beaming up at him.

“You made it!” You shout over the music, your eyes sparkling in the club lights. “Come on, everyone’s waiting to toast the man of the hour!”

As you lead him through the crowd, your hand still on his arm, Logan tries to ignore the electricity he feels at your touch. Friends touch all the time, he reminds himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

You reach a VIP section where the rest of the team is gathered. A cheer goes up as they spot Logan, and suddenly he’s being passed around for hugs and backslaps and congratulations.

Toto appears, handing Logan a glass of champagne. “To Logan,” he says, raising his own glass. “For a brilliant drive and Mercedes’ first podium of the season. May it be the first of many!”

The team echoes the toast and Logan takes a sip of the bubbly, feeling a surge of pride and belonging. This is what he’s worked for his entire life and he’s finally made it.

As the celebration continues, Logan finds himself relaxing, caught up in the excitement and camaraderie of the team. He chats with mechanics, engineers, and fellow drivers, reliving the best moments of the race.

But his eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re in your element, moving from group to group, laughing and chatting animatedly. Every now and then, you glance his way, flashing him a smile that makes his heart race.

It’s just the atmosphere, Logan tells himself. The adrenaline from the race, the excitement of the celebration. That’s all it is.

But as the night wears on and the champagne flows freely, Logan finds it harder and harder to maintain that rationalization. Especially when you grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor, your body moving in perfect rhythm to the pulsing beat.

“Come on!” You shout over the music, grinning up at him. “Show me some of those dance moves!”

Logan laughs, letting himself get caught up in the moment. He may not be the world’s best dancer, but with you smiling at him like that, he feels like he could take on anything.

As you dance, Logan can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit against him, how natural it feels to have his hands on your waist as you move together. It’s just dancing, he reminds himself. Friends dance together all the time.

But when the DJ switches to a slower song and you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan knows he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s no denying the way his heart races, the way his skin tingles where you touch him.

As you sway together, Logan finally allows himself to admit the truth he’s been trying to ignore for months. He’s falling for you, hard and fast, and he has no idea what to do about it.

You look up at him, your eyes soft in the dim light of the club. “I’m really proud of you,” you say, your voice barely audible over the music. “You belong here, you know. On the podium, in F1, with m-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip.

Logan’s heart leaps. Were you about to say “with me”? He wants to ask, wants to pull you closer and find out if you feel this connection too.

But before he can say anything, the song ends and the moment is broken. You step back, a slightly flustered look on your face.

“I, uh ... I need a drink,” you say quickly. “Want anything?”

Logan shakes his head, still trying to process what just happened. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

As you disappear into the crowd, Logan makes his way back to the VIP section, his mind reeling. What was that? Did he imagine the moment between you? And more importantly, what is he going to do about these feelings he can no longer deny?

As he sinks into a plush couch, Logan realizes that his first podium might not be the most significant event of the night after all. Whatever happens next, he knows one thing for certain — his relationship with you will never be the same.

***

The Union Jack flutters in the cool Silverstone breeze as Logan crosses the finish line, his heart pounding in his ears. The chequered flag waves, and suddenly, the reality hits him like a tidal wave.

“Logan, you’ve done it!” Marcus’ voice crackles through the radio, filled with unbridled joy. “P1! Your first Formula 1 win!”

Logan lets out a whoop of excitement, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! We did it, guys! Thank you, thank you so much!”

As he starts his cooldown lap, waving to the cheering crowds, Logan can’t help but chuckle at the irony. An American winning the British Grand Prix. He can almost hear the collective groan of disappointment from the British fans who were hoping for a home victory.

“Sorry, folks,” he murmurs to himself, grinning. “The colonists strike again.”

The sea of orange in the grandstands catches his eye — Dutch fans who always come to support Max Verstappen no matter the location. Logan remembers the intense battle he had with the reigning world champion in the closing laps. The memory sends another surge of pride through him. He didn’t just win, he beat the best of the best.

As he rounds the final corner, heading towards parc fermé, Logan’s mind drifts to you. He wonders if you’re watching, if you’re as excited as he is. Ever since that kiss on the cheek in Miami, he’s been unable to get you out of his head. Every smile, every touch, every late-night strategy session has taken on new meaning.

But fear has held him back. Fear of ruining your friendship, fear of making things awkward with the team, fear of misreading the signals. So he’s kept his feelings bottled up, content (or so he tells himself) with your close friendship.

Logan pulls into his spot in parc fermé, bringing the car to a stop. He takes a deep breath, savoring this moment. His first win. It almost doesn’t feel real.

He unclips his harness and stands up in the cockpit, raising his arms in triumph. The roar of the crowd washes over him and he spots his team gathered at the barriers, jumping and cheering.

Without hesitation, Logan clambers out of the car and runs towards them. He leaps over the barrier, immediately engulfed in a sea of jubilant Mercedes personnel. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but Logan is searching for one face in particular.

Suddenly, the crowd parts, and there you are. Your eyes are shining with pride and something else, something that makes Logan’s heart race even faster than it already is.

Before he can say anything, you stride forward purposefully. Your hands grasp the collar of his race suit, and in one swift motion, you pull him towards you and press your lips firmly against his.

For a split second, Logan is too shocked to react. But then his brain catches up, and he’s kissing you back with every ounce of pent-up emotion he’s been holding back for months.

The world around you fades away — the cheering crowd, the flashing cameras, the excited chatter of the team. All Logan can focus on is the softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the rightness of this moment.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Logan can’t help but grin. “Wow,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “That was ...”

“Long overdue,” you finish for him, a matching grin on your face.

Logan chuckles, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “I couldn’t agree more. But, uh ... your dad isn’t going to fire me for this, is he?”

You laugh, the sound music to Logan’s ears. “Please. He’s been trying to set us up for months. I think he’ll be relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Before Logan can respond, a throat clears behind them. They turn to see Toto standing there, an amused smirk on his face.

“While I’m thrilled you two have finally sorted yourselves out,” he says dryly, “perhaps we could save the more ... intimate celebrations for after the podium ceremony?”

Logan feels his face heat up, but you just laugh, linking your arm through his. “Sorry, Vati. Got caught up in the moment. Come on, Logan. Time to get you on that top step where you belong.”

As you make your way through the paddock, Logan can’t wipe the grin off his face. Crew members, other drivers, and media personnel offer their congratulations, but it all feels secondary to the warmth of you pressed against his side.

“So,” Logan says as they near the cooldown room, “does this mean you’ll be my date to the celebration tonight?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might have other plans. I hear there’s this hot new F1 winner in town ...”

Logan laughs, pulling you closer. “Oh yeah? Well, I happen to know him pretty well. I could put in a good word for you.”

You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’d appreciate that. But you should know, I’m not really interested in a fling. I’m more of a long-term kind of girl.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat at the implication. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m in this for the long haul.”

Your smile softens, and you lean up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now go, your adoring public awaits. We’ll continue this discussion later.”

As Logan steps onto the podium not long after, the cheers of the crowd washing over him, he can’t help but think that this — the trophy, the champagne, the adulation — is only the second-best thing to happen to him today.

The ceremony passes in a blur of anthems, champagne sprays, and beaming smiles. Logan clutches his trophy, still hardly believing it’s real. As he steps down from the podium, he’s immediately swarmed by journalists, all clamoring for a quote from F1’s newest race winner.

“Logan! How does it feel to win your first Grand Prix?”

Logan grins, his eyes finding you in the crowd. “It’s incredible. A dream come true. But you know what? I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean by that?” Another reporter asks.

Logan’s grin widens. “Let’s just say I’m feeling pretty unbeatable right now, both on and off the track.”

You roll your eyes at him from behind the journalists, but your smile gives away your amusement.

As the interviews wind down, Logan finally manages to break away from the press. He makes his way back to you, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“So,” he says, sliding an arm around your waist, “about the team celebration ...”

You lean into him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, I think we might need to have our own private celebration first. You know, to properly commemorate your first win.”

Logan feels a thrill run through him at your words. “I like the way you think. But, uh ... what about your dad?”

You laugh, linking your fingers with his. “Logan, my dad’s the one who’s been pushing us together for months. Trust me, he’ll be thrilled. Although maybe don’t kiss me like that in front of him again. There are some things a father doesn’t need to see.”

Logan chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Noted. So, what now?”

“Now,” you say, tugging him towards the Mercedes motorhome, “we go change. Then we make a brief appearance at the team celebration. And after that ...” you trail off, your eyes twinkling with promise.

“After that?” Logan prompts, his heart racing with anticipation.

You grin up at him. “After that, we start our own celebration. I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for, don’t you?”

Logan nods, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Absolutely. And hey, I’m a quick learner. I bet I can make up for that lost time in record speed.”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart soar. “Always the racer. But you know what? I think this is one race where taking it slow might be the winning strategy.”

As you make their way through the paddock, hand-in-hand, Logan can’t help but marvel at how much his life has changed in just a few short months. From reserve driver to race winner, from pining in silence to ... whatever this wonderful new thing with you is.

One thing’s for sure — this win will always be special. Not just because it’s his first, but because it’s the day everything finally fell into place. The day he not only conquered the track but also found the courage (with a little help) to follow his heart.

As the two of you reach the Mercedes motorhome, Logan pulls you close for one more quick kiss. “Hey,” he says softly, “just in case I forget to say it later ... thank you. For believing in me, for supporting me, for ... well, for everything.”

You smile up at him, your eyes soft with affection. “Always, Logan. Now come on, race winner. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

***

The bright lights of the Tonight Show studio beat down on Logan as he sits across from Jimmy Fallon, trying to keep his nerves in check. It’s his first major American talk show appearance, and he wants to make a good impression.

Jimmy leans forward, a warm smile on his face. “So, Logan, it’s been quite a year for you, hasn’t it? From losing your seat at Williams to winning races with Mercedes. How has your life changed?”

Logan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Oh man, Jimmy, where do I even start? It’s been an absolute whirlwind. You know, when I lost that Williams seat, I thought my F1 dream was over. I was devastated.”

Jimmy nods sympathetically. “I can imagine. That must have been tough.”

“It was,” Logan agrees. “But you know what? Looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? How so?”

Logan grins, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, first of all, it led to this incredible opportunity with Mercedes. I mean, going from potentially being out of F1 to driving for one of the top teams? It’s like something out of a movie.”

The audience cheers, and Logan feels a surge of pride. He’s come a long way from that dejected kid in Toto’s office last year.

“But that’s not all,” Logan continues, his smile softening. “Losing that seat also led me to the love of my life.”

A collective “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy leans in, clearly sensing a good story. “Tell us more!”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up slightly, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. “Her name is Y/N. She works for Mercedes, and she’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful. She was the one who really helped me believe in myself when I joined the team.”

Jimmy grins. “Sounds like quite a woman. How did you two get together?”

Logan laughs, remembering that day at Silverstone. “Well, I’d been pining after her for months, too scared to make a move. Then I won my first race at the British Grand Prix, and she just ... grabbed me and kissed me right there in parc fermé. In front of the whole team, the cameras, everyone.”

The audience cheers and whistles, and Jimmy laughs. “Wow! Talk about a victory celebration! So, she made the first move, huh?”

Logan nods, grinning. “Yep. Thank god one of us had the courage. Although I have to say, her dad being my boss made things a little awkward at first.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Her dad is your boss? You mean ...”

“Yep,” Logan confirms, enjoying the host’s reaction. “I’m dating the boss’s daughter. Toto Wolff’s daughter, to be exact.”

The audience gasps and murmurs, and Jimmy leans back in his chair, looking impressed. “Wow. That’s ... that’s quite a story. So, how does Toto feel about all this?”

Logan chuckles. “You know, he’s been surprisingly cool about it. Turns out he’d been trying to set us up for months. I think he was just relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Jimmy laughs. “Well, that’s good to hear. No awkward ‘stay away from my daughter’ talks then?”

“Oh, there were talks,” Logan says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But they were more along the lines of ‘if you hurt her, I’ll demote you to test driver faster than you can say DRS.’”

The audience laughs, and Jimmy shakes his head in amusement. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the incentive to be on your best behavior!”

Logan nods, his expression softening. “Absolutely. But you know, even without that ... Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d never do anything to mess that up.”

Another “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy smiles warmly. “That’s beautiful, Logan. It sounds like things are really falling into place for you.”

“They really are,” Logan agrees. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he adds, “And you know what? I’ve actually got a little scoop for you, Jimmy. The team’s given me permission to reveal something pretty big.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up and he leans in as well. “Oh? Do tell!”

Logan grins, then stage whispers, loud enough for the audience to hear, “I’ve just signed a contract extension with Mercedes. I’ll be with the team until 2028.”

The audience erupts in cheers, and Jimmy’s jaw drops. “What? Logan, that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

Logan beams, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. “Thanks, Jimmy. I still can’t quite believe it myself. Three more years with one of the top teams in F1 ... it’s a dream come true.”

Jimmy shakes his head in amazement. “Wow. From losing your Williams seat to a long-term contract with Mercedes. That’s quite the turnaround.”

“It really is,” Logan agrees. “And you know what? I owe a lot of it to Y/N. She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without her.”

Jimmy smiles warmly. “It sounds like you two make quite the team. Is she here tonight?”

Logan nods, glancing towards the audience. “She is, actually. She’s sitting right over there.”

The camera pans to where you’re sitting, and you give a shy wave as the audience applauds. Logan feels his heart swell with affection at the sight of you.

Jimmy turns back to Logan, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, Logan, now that you’ve got this long-term contract sorted out ... any other long-term plans in the works? Maybe involving a certain boss’s daughter?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Well, Jimmy, let’s just say that when you find the right person, you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. But for now, we’re just enjoying the ride.”

Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to celebrate. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve brought something special to share with us tonight?”

Logan grins, reaching behind his chair to pull out a bottle of champagne. “That’s right. This is the same type of champagne we used for my first win at Silverstone. I thought we could recreate a little podium celebration right here on the show.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, this is going to be fun! But wait, don’t you usually spray this stuff around?”

Logan laughs, standing up. “We sure do. Hope you don’t mind getting a little wet!”

As Logan shakes the bottle and pops the cork, spraying champagne all over a laughing Jimmy and the cheering audience, he can’t help but marvel at how far he’s come. From the depths of disappointment to the heights of success, both on and off the track.

After the champagne settles and they’re both wiping their faces, Jimmy turns to Logan with a grin. “Alright, Logan, before we let you go, I’ve got one more question for you. What’s next? You’ve got the dream job, the dream girl ... what more could Logan Sargeant possibly want?”

Logan pauses for a moment, considering. “You know, a year ago I would have said winning the World Championship was the ultimate goal. And don’t get me wrong, that’s still very much on my radar. But now ... now I think my goal is just to keep living this dream for as long as I can. To keep pushing myself on the track, to keep growing and learning, and to keep building a life with Y/N.”

He glances over at you in the audience, his eyes softening. “Because at the end of the day, all the trophies and champagne in the world don’t mean much if you don’t have someone to share them with.”

The audience “awws” once more, and Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well said, Logan. I think that’s a perfect note to end on. Ladies and gentlemen, Logan Sargeant!”

As the audience applauds and the show cuts to commercial, Logan makes his way off the stage, his heart full. He finds you waiting for him in the wings, a proud smile on your face.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Logan hugs you back, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much with all that mushy stuff.”

You laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Are you kidding? I loved every second of it. Although I have to say, that champagne spray was a bit much. You do realize you’re not actually on a podium, right?”

Logan grins sheepishly. “Sorry, force of habit. But hey, at least I didn’t kiss you in front of millions of viewers. That’s progress, right?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “My hero. Come on, liebling. Let’s go celebrate your big reveal properly.”

As you walk hand-in-hand towards the exit, Logan feels a sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been one hell of a journey, but with you by his side and a bright future ahead, he knows the best is yet to come.

And as you step out into the New York night, Logan can’t help but think that this — the glamor, the success, the adoration — is nothing compared to the simple joy of having you by his side.

Because in the end, it’s not about the trophies or the champagne. It’s about the journey and the people you share it with.

For Logan Sargeant, former underdog turned rising star, the real victory isn’t just on the track. It’s in the love he’s found, the dreams he’s achieving, and the future he’s building — one lap at a time.

2K notes · View notes

bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

Text

On The Altar

cw: kidnapping, size difference, attempted human sacrifice, indoctrination, culty vibes, blood, hunting animals for food, self-loathing, allusions to drowning, heights, non-human genitalia, voyeurism, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, everyone in this is having a rough time

male dragon x male knight x fem reader

word count: 12k

Your breath caught as you stared at yourself in the mirror and a sort of disappointment washed over you. The white ceremonial dress draped across your form, fitted perfectly to you.

You were supposed to look better than you ever had. Your heart sank a little when realized you didn’t think you did.

Your birthday a few months ago. You thought you looked better then.

You should have toned it down, not given yourself such a high bar to clear. It was your own fault, really.

It had just been your last one. You'd wanted to make it count

Your head felt heavy with the ceremonial braids in your hair and the golden crown atop your head. It matched the rest of your accessories. Golden bracelets and necklaces and cuffs that circled your biceps.

You wondered if it was real gold. Of course, everyone said it was but it seemed like a difficult thing to manage, a whole set of new golden adornments made every year just for it to be lost. A Sisyphean task.

You didn’t have to worry about that. Your responsibility was far from that of the clothing and jewelry makers. You didn’t have to do any work at all, a crowd of women ensuring you didn’t so much as lift a finger on your day, bathing you and dressing you in unfamiliar clothes.

You’d spent the whole day preparing. This was the first time you’d had a chance to breathe.

Excitement and nerves all swelled inside of you, neither able to snuff the other out.

Time was flying by and you weren’t sure whether you wanted it to slow or speed up. Part of you wanted to cherish these last few moments but it was almost here. It was almost your time.

They tied you up. Not that they had to. You weren’t going anywhere. It was just tradition.

You forgot to treasure your last moments of sight before someone behind you pulled a blindfold over your eyes.

All you were left to do was imagine it. Being pulled from where you stood on the shore, being dragged under the water, the air leaving you as you fulfilled your duty.

And the town saved.

They’d do it again next year and again the next, just like they had for decades. But this year was yours. You would save them.

What a privilege it was to die for them.

You wondered if the ropes ruined the lines of your dress. You supposed you’d never find out.

Something hooked around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but flinch. You took in a big gulp of air instinctually, knowing what was coming.

You braced yourself to be dragged forwards and instead slipped backward as you were lifted in the wrong direction. The ground disappeared from under you before you could fall.

Your legs kicked, searching for anything below you, but you found nothing. The wind rushed up around you and despite your lack of vision, you could feel that you were rising up and up and up.

You were meant to be dragged down to the depths and yet here you were, being hoisted into the sky. Claws dug into your skin and you were still blind and disoriented. Fear overtook you.

You reached up and felt at whatever was carrying you, finding scaly skin connected to the strong talons digging into your shoulders.

And then, as quickly as you’d been scooped up, you were being dropped. Rocks scraped your skin as you tumbled onto a hard stone floor. The bindings had come undone during the fall and you scrambled for your blindfold, squinting when the harsh light reached your eyes.

As your vision began to adjust, you saw an enormous figure in front of you. At first, all you could see was a silhouette. Massive wings curled into the figure and the dragon that was slowly coming into focus in front of you stared right back at you.

It was retreating into mounds of shiny things, gold and silver, old pieces of armour and crowns and candelabras piled into the cave you’d been thrown into.

It stood out amongst the collection, a hulking creature with scales that shone a dark bronze that matched little of his horde. It was probably 20 feet long, its head cocked to the side as it watched you.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to get as far away from the creature as possible.

You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. If you tried to run it could just scoop you up again. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was activate a hunting instinct. Maybe right now, covered in gold jewelry, he saw you as something for his horde. It was certainly preferable to the alternative.

He didn’t seem to be eating you, which you took as a good sign. Maybe if you removed the gold from yourself, it would lose interest in you and you could sneak out. If you rushed and were lucky, maybe you could even make it back in time. A sacrifice without the ceremonial adornments wasn’t ideal but it would certainly be better than nothing.

You slowly lifted your hand to the golden cuff on your bicep, praying it wouldn’t think you were trying to take it. You tried to rip it from the white fabric of your dress, wanting to return home with at least some of your dignity, and your clothes, intact.

Its head tilted further to the side and then a voice sounded, echoing off the walls. “What are you doing? Why would you ruin such a lovely dress?”

You froze at the noise, looking up wide-eyed at the creature. It couldn’t have. That wasn’t possible. Dragons were forces of chaos. Mindless beasts, nothing more.

You blinked slowly, wondering if maybe you hadn’t woken up this morning quite yet. Or perhaps you’d been pulled underwater too quickly to notice and this was the oxygen deprivation messing with your mind.

“Hello,” you responded.

Its jaw opened to reveal layers of teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. “Hello!”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “What… why did you take me?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. The last thing you wanted was to upset the creature.

“You were out there to be taken, yes?”

Oh. You supposed you were. Perhaps you’d been sending mixed messages to the monsters of the world.

You wondered if maybe some town made sacrifices just like you to dragons.

“I was,” you said cautiously. “But not for you. For the creatures of the deep. Fishing is our life, it’s how we survive. We need the waters to be safe.”

“Not… what? You’re… but I thought. So you weren’t out there for me?” He sounded heartbroken.

“It’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Misunderstandings happen. Just take me back and everything will be fine.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense. You’re covered in gold. You can’t just cover someone in gold and not expect a dragon to come snatch them up. You must have known. You must be for me.”

“Well, I’m not. And I would love to go home now.”

“What do they even want with you?” it asked, avoiding any discussion of bringing you back. “I don’t know much about humans but I know you aren’t water creatures. They couldn’t even take you anywhere, they’d have to come all the way up to visit you every day.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

You’d assumed he’d taken you for the same reasons as the creatures you sacrificed maidens to every year. To take and consume, to feel worshiped. But it sounded like this dragon had entirely different ideas as to why a monster would want a sacrifice.

“I wouldn’t have to just visit you,” he said. “I could be with you all the time. Take good care of you. No water involved. I’d keep you warm and fed and completely dry.”

“I’m not given to be a pet,” you snapped.

The creature reeled back and began backpedaling instantly. “I didn’t mean you’re like a pet, I just meant…”

“They were going to kill me,” you said. “I’m a sacrifice. They need to kill me. It’s the only way.”

It took him a minute to understand what you could possibly mean by that. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand.

You didn’t have time for this. “Just take me back,” you pleaded with him.

He paused. “They’re going to kill you?”

“It’s none of your concern what they’re going to do.”

He dropped his head low, resting it on his tail with a huff. “Then I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Your heart sank. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, burying your head in your hands. “It has to happen, without it so many more will perish.

“What if I start terrorizing your village!” the dragon said, with the intonation of someone who’d just had a great idea but none of the content. “Or say I would if I didn’t have you. Then your sacrifice won’t have been for nothing.”

Reasoning with him was starting to seem pointless. “Please don’t.”

“Well, either way, I’m not letting you go back. If I let you go, it would be like I hurt you. No, you can stay here.”

You could not do this, couldn’t argue with this strange creature who was incapable of understanding how vital it was that you returned so your town had its proper sacrifice.

You stormed over to the corner of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall with a huff.

He just stared at you, neverendingly, undeterred by your attitude.

“It can’t be comfortable over there,” he called out to you.

“Leave me alone!” you shouted back, curling in further on yourself.

He wanted to approach you, you could tell that much. His hesitation was evident and he took small steps forwards before pulling himself back, repeating the gesture over and over until he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Alright. I can go for a while. Don’t hurt yourself.”

With that, he gave you a final once-over and flew out of the cave.

He was hard to read. The way a dragon worked was unfamiliar to you. The most you could do was take guesses and try your best. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be around long enough to figure out the intricacies of dragon body language.

You should run. If you were going to have a chance to escape, this would be it.

As you edged out of the cave, your dreams of making it down the mountain were crushed. There was, technically, a sort of path down the mountain. It was barely a few feet wide with a sheer cliff at the edge of it.

You hadn’t eaten since this morning. You were scared and exhausted and there was a slight tremor in your hands you couldn’t quite seem to rid yourself of. There was no way you could safely traverse that path.

You went back into the cave with a huff, waiting for your captor to return.

Eventually, he did, blood dripping down his face as he dropped an animal in front of you. It was hard to tell what it was with the way it was mangled. It was clearly a fresh kill.

You stared blankly at him, edging further away and into the cave wall.

At your lack of reaction, he nudged the creature towards you. “You should eat,” he said.

“I can’t eat that.”

You prayed he wouldn’t try and force you.

“Why don’t you just eat me?” you spat at him. “At least it would be better than this.”

At least then you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that you’d failed, and your village would pay the price.

He tilted his head once more. “Why would I do that? I’ve wanted to meet a human for a very very long time. I’ve got another friend too, come look.”

He started to wander back into the cave, behind piles of gold and you hesitantly followed him on shaky legs.

When you reached the back of the dark cave, you found a single, frightened sheep sitting atop a massive patch of grass that seemed to have been uprooted from the ground.

“I took him from a field. I couldn’t eat him, he had sad eyes.”

“Do I have sad eyes?” you asked. Maybe that was why he insisted on keeping you, refusing to let you go back home.

He looked at you and as hard as it was to read the facial expressions of a dragon, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as you looked away.

“Not bad. You just look like you're hurting.”

If you were it was because of him. This was supposed to be the best day of your life, the only day that mattered. And instead, you were here, looking at a poor terrorized sheep who was in the same position you were in.

“So, what can you eat?” the dragon asked. Before you could give an answer, it said, “Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.”

You didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was. He was off again, moving through the cave until you heard the telltale flapping noise that meant you were alone once more.

You looked down at the sheep again.

Maybe not entirely alone.

He returned swiftly with a whole market cart in tow. It had piles of bread in it, although they were a little worse for wear from the flight. You had no doubt that some unsuspecting farmers had found it raining loaves of bread as he made his way back.

You were too hungry to worry about scolding him for the thievery. You grabbed the first piece you could get your hands on and took the biggest bite you were capable of.

Your dragon watched, seemingly entranced by the sight.

As you chewed your first bite of freshly baked bread he asked, “I did alright this time?”

You nodded, unable to speak through the mouthful of food.

As you finished scarfing down your bread, you sat in the grass with your new sheep companion and asked your captor, “Do you have a name?”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “No. No one has ever needed to call me anything.”

“Oh. I thought dragons would have names.”

“They do. Just not me.”

You looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What, just you?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations from the noise cascading through the stone under you. “Didn’t bother to give me one. I was the runt so you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t really know how people work. With dragons, the littlest one always has to go. That’s the way it is.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get a little lonely but now you’re here!”

You rolled your eyes, collapsing back into the grass. If you closed your eyes you could pretend you were outside your village lying in a field instead of trapped in a dark cave on a cold mountain. “Yeah, now I’m here.”

The moment couldn’t last. It was too cold, there was no wind. The air smelled different.

“You know,” you said. “We had stories about dragons. Big terrifying ones that wanted to hurt people. My mother used to tell me stories of Pytho. I was so scared of him when I was little.”

“Oh.” You heard his wings rustle and opened one of your eyes to peek over at him, shuffling uncomfortably in place.

“I could call you Pytho,” you added. “It’s the only dragon name I know.”

“If you think it fits, I suppose. I thought you said he was big and scary?”

You laughed. “Well, from my perspective, you’re pretty big and scary.”

Instead of being pleased at your words, he reeled back. “Are you scared of me?”

You shrugged. “I was. Not so much anymore. Honestly, I think on any other day, I would’ve liked you”

“But not today?”

You shook your head. “Not today.”

“Well then,” he said as he began to curl up into a ball, “Maybe tomorrow.”

You backed up, leaning against the cold wall, and tried to suppress your tears at the thought that there would be a tomorrow for you at all.

When you woke up, it was all still real. A dragon snored beside you as a sheep stared at you with the saddest gaze you’d ever seen.

Maybe, as you looked at it, it thought the same thing about you.

Pytho stirred from his slumber, immediately turning to check on you.

When you felt his warm breath directed at you, you realized just how cold you were. Not that you were going to do anything about it. Your only source of warmth was the dragon in front of you and you were going to go nowhere near him.

You clench your fists, doing your best to stop the shivering.

He didn’t seem to notice. With the warmth that he radiated, you were sure that the concept of being cold was something that was foreign to him.

You turned away from the creature. If he wouldn’t take you back, the least you could do was deprive him of your attention.

It wasn’t much but it was all you had.

The day passed slowly but still, it passed. You spent it wallowing in the corner.

Pytho left you alone after the first few outbursts. He seemed to understand that you needed your space. You could appreciate him for at least that much.

As the sun began to set once more, you began to realize just how much warmth and light the day had brought to this miserable cave.

You curled in on yourself, not far from how Pytho slept.

You watched him begin to settle in for the night and saw a moment of hope where he tried to move closer to you. You glared at him and he stopped in his tracks.

“You’re still upset with me,” he noted.

“Of course I am. There’s nothing for me now. It was supposed to be over and now it’s not. You took that from me.”

“I took your ending,” he said, and you knew he understood.

“You did.”

“You’ll find a new ending someday.”

“But that one was mine. It mattered,” you said, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get it.

“You matter.”

You scoffed. “I did.”

“You do.”

You turned away from him with a huff. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Goodnight, little human.”

You fell into a fitful sleep against the cold stone of the cave. When you woke, however, you felt warm and safe.

You opened your eyes to find Pytho standing over you, his body heat covering you in waves of warmth, even when he wasn’t touching you.

“You were shivering,” he said, like it was that simple. You were cold, he was warm. There wasn’t anything else to be done. You hadn’t even known he understood what shivering was.

You slid away from him, back into the cold.

He watched you. That’s all he ever seemed to do. Watch you. “You’re mad at me but you’re punishing yourself.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me go back.”

“I will not.”

You tried to sleep again but the cold felt harsher now, crueler. It was your turn to watch him, remember the waves of heat across your skin.

You waited until his breathing leveled out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming uniform. You couldn’t handle a smug look or excitement. You just needed to sleep.

You took the few steps between you slowly and gently leaned against his side.

Almost instantly, without thinking, he curled around you, bundling you up in a nest of warm scales. His breathing was steady against your side.

You’d never slept better.

You woke to find his head a few inches from yours, propped up on his tail and staring at you with a soft gaze.

“Good morning,” he said.

You gave him a hum of acknowledgment back.

You were wracked with guilt. How could you be enjoying this, allowing yourself even these minor comforts? It wasn’t right. None of this was right.

You pulled away from him, feeling sick.

Traitor. You’d betrayed them after they’d put so much trust in you. Who knew what was happening to them now, while you slept feeling warm and comfortable.

“You still want to go?” he asked in hushed tones as you backed away, clearly afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “I’m always going to want to go. I have to make this right.”

He let out a pained whine and moved towards you slowly, giving you the chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

“You could be happy here,” he insisted. “Why won’t you just be happy here?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be."

“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he whined out.

You pressed your forehead to his. “Does it not matter what I want?”

He let out a huff and hot air cascaded over your face. He was always so warm.

You pressed a kiss to his scaly nose. “I know you want to help, but I have to do this. Please let me do this.”

And he stared. Just stared at you, like he was drinking it in, trying to memorize you.

Finally, his face fell and you knew exactly what it meant.

“If you change your mind…” he said. “If you ever get the chance, come back to me. You’ll always have a safe place here.”

You nodded, still holding his head in your hands. You knew you never would, but it was nice to imagine returning someday.

You looked down at your dress, dirty and torn, and you finished ripping off the golden cuff you’d started to tear days ago.

“You can have this if you want. For what could have been.”

His eyes were glassy. You didn’t know dragons could cry. He grasped the golden cuff in his talons, tucking it away far from the rest of the gold, instead next to his beloved sheep. “For what could have been.”

A forlorn laugh escaped you as you looked at him. All three of you had sad eyes now.

Before either of you had the chance to rethink it, he moved towards the mouth of the cave and you followed.

Familiar talons grasped your shoulders and you were off again.

This time, there was no blindfold. An entire landscape unfolded below you and you watched towns and rivers and forests pass you by at incredible speeds.

Your hands reached up to grab Pytho’s legs, the seer distance to the ground making you dizzy.

The flight was shorter than you remembered. You wished it wasn’t but as your feet touched grass, real grass rooted in the real ground, you knew there was nothing to be done.

He dropped you off near the village but still outside of it. It was for the best, you couldn’t imagine anyone inside the town would be particularly pleased to see him. Worst case scenario, they might even try and hurt him.

As soon as you’d properly landed he flew off, leaving you behind. No parting words, no last look. Before you knew it he was gone, a distant silhouette on a blue sky.

Good. You didn’t want him to see what might happen here anyways.

The walk back was too quiet. You could hear the birds and the wind but none of it was enough to drown out the blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t know why your heart was pounding so loudly. This was what you wanted. You were back, ready to repent for the crime of being stolen.

The first person who saw you was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He wandered on the outskirts of the village but as soon as he saw you he turned and ran back into the town, probably telling tales of your miraculous homecoming.

You’d been so caught up in your return you had managed to think of little else but now, as you neared society once more, you realized what a mess you’d become. Your sacrificial dress was brown with now much dirt it had collected, ripped and shredded and hanging off of you in tatters. You were sure your face and hair were just as dirty.

You walked further and further into town, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d assumed someone else would tell you what to do but instead, they grouped together and stared, whispering and pointing as you trudged your way through the village.

As you reached the center of town, you found a gathering waiting for you.

You stopped in front of them, waiting as they inspected you. The same people who’d helped ready you and told you how vital you were to the town now looked down at you with thinly veiled disdain plastered across their faces.

“I came back as soon as I could,” you said, your voice sounding small and weak.

The man at the front of the group, the one who chose the sacrifices, made speeches about its vitalness every year, spoke. His voice boomed across the gathering. It didn’t feel fair. He was accustomed to speaking to crowds like this. You weren’t meant for this, of course you sounded small. “We chose another,” he said, and his words echoed in your ears.

Your heart sank in your chest. Of course they did. What else would they have done? At least it meant the town was safe. So why did it sting so badly?

“I can do it next year,” you said. “Please, let me do it next year. I’m here now.”

The man turned up his nose at you. “You abandoned your post.”

You could feel yourself getting more and more frantic as he spoke. “No, I was taken. I came back as soon as I could, I promise! Please.”

“An example must be made.”

You nodded, searching for a way out, any way you could still be useful. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The women who’d helped you bathe and get dressed a few days prior surged forwards, grasping at your arms. They held you in place as you refused to struggle.

“This is what happens to deserters,” he called out over the crowd.

You could barely think, barely hear his words.

The fact that you’d been replaced kept running through your mind. You’d been raised for this. It was all you’d ever wanted. You’d dreamed of it.

You weren’t so sure you wanted it anymore.

It didn’t matter anyways. It was too late. You’d left.

The man chanting to the crowd pulled out a knife.

It felt like what you deserved. Your chest tightened with guilt and fear. Now it wouldn’t even be for anything. Just an example, nothing more.

Maybe it was saving them, in a way. Saving them from an epidemic of girls who thought they could escape it and damn the town in the meantime. Maybe you still could die for something.

A thudding sound echoes in your ears, slightly out of time with your heartbeat. It felt almost grounding, helped you ignore the chants of deserter and heathen. You didn’t have the strength to try and defend yourself, to insist that no, you’d fought to come back. You weren’t even sure you believed that anymore. You latched onto the thudding, anything to get those words out of your head.

And then the arms that had held you down were being ripped away and instead you found yourself being lifted. This was not the endless upwards motion of your dragon. Instead, you found yourself hoisted onto the back of a horse.

Hard metal dug into your side and you looked up to see a knight in full armour, his face hidden by his helm and his arm hooked around your waist.

You pounded your fists against him, fighting to be let go. “No!” you shouted. “I need to do this. I need to be forgiven.”

The knight's grip on you tightened and the horse you were both on sped up. Neither seemed to find your fighting anything more than mildly inconvenient.

Before long, your struggle slowed. You were becoming very used to the intense frustration that accompanied being trapped, being taken away with no regard for what you wanted.

You lost track of time as you rode. You’d just been trying to make things right, even if you couldn’t do what you were meant to do. The universe seemed intent on stopping you.

Maybe you’d done something wrong, offended the cosmos so severely you were no longer permitted to do what you were meant for.

As the horse slowed, the knight's grip on you loosened.

He set you gently on the ground in the midst of this unfamiliar forest and you glared up at him.

“Can I go now?” you hissed. “Or am I still being kidnapped?”

“There were going to kill you,” he said as he dismounted his horse.

“You don’t know what was going on,” you insisted. “Maybe I deserved it.”

He rummaged around in his saddlebag. “Maybe.”

You reeled back a little, not expecting him to agree with you. “Oh. Can I go back then?”

“No. Here, eat this.” He held out some dried meat in your direction.

You refused it. It would be a waste anyways.

“Why can’t I go?” you asked. If he didn’t even know if you were in the right, what reason could he possibly have for taking you?

“I’ve heard about your village, you know. I was worried I was too late. They’ve messed with your mind. It’s not your fault but you’re not making good choices right now.”

“My choices are fine,” you shouted. “Who are you to decide that? You don’t even know what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I shirked my duty. I should have been there.”

“For what?”

“To be their sacrifice.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You did, but he couldn’t know that. It was beyond him.

It was hard to remember where you were. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you home? Or were you? You knew that you should be. Why wouldn’t you be?

You saw your dress, dirty and crumpled and ripped. You’d ruined it. How would you go through with the ritual now?

Something in you always knew you’d ruin it somehow. And now things were all wrong. Who else’s fault could it be?

The knight pushed some food at you and once again you were in a forest far from home.

You threw it back at him. “I said I don’t want it. Aren’t you going to eat?”

That damn helmet stared back at you for a moment before he said, “Maybe later.”

“Do you have a name?” you asked, desperate to get anything from him.

“Phillip.”

You missed your dragon. At least you could see his face and try to figure out what he was thinking.

He got up without warning, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement.

He froze for a second as you did, staring down at you before continuing on, trudging through the nearby bushes.

He returned in a few moments.

“There’s a pond back there,” he said, gesturing towards the foliage. “It’s not too cold, you should be fine.” He started to move back towards his horse before pausing for a moment and adding, “It might make you feel better.”

You went to inspect this pond as he tended to his horse.

It was a small pond, the trees around it curling over the top of it, mostly blocking out the sun. You dipped your foot into the water and found that the knight was technically right, it wasn’t cold enough to hurt you. It still wasn’t a pleasant temperature but right now it was the best you were going to get.

As you tested out the water, you watched from behind the bushes as he mounted his horse and started to ride away.

It made sense. You wouldn’t want to keep you around either. At this point, you were just ungrateful dead weight.

You considered taking off your dress and attempting to keep it dry but at this point, it consisted more of rips and dirt than anything. Dousing it in water might do it some good.

You sunk into the cold water, doing your best to get the dirt out of your hair. As long as you were in here, you might as well attempt to get clean.

You wondered if you could find your way back to Pytho’s cave. If you could manage to get close you were sure he’d be able to find you. At least you hoped he would. It was the only place you had left to go.

You had no real desire to prolong the bath in the cold water. You just didn’t know what came next. After this, where could you even go?

Your fingers began to prune and you know you couldn’t do this forever.

As you exited the pool in your sopping wet, muddy, ripped ceremonial dress, you decided you needed to go. You weren’t sure if you were trying to find your village or Pytho but it didn’t really matter, you had no sense of what direction either was in. You just needed to be headed somewhere.

You made it half a dozen steps before you collapsed.

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until he was right in front of you, staring down at you collapsed in the dirt in your soaking-wet dress.

You watched his helmet as he looks you up and down, lingering a second too long on your chest before snapping his head back up towards your face.

He cleared his throat and you would have bet money that his face was bright red beneath his helm.

“Apologies, my lady. I thought you might want some fresh clothes.”

He held out some folded clothes with a pair of leather boots balanced atop them.

No. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the last outfit you ever wore. It felt like a betrayal to take it off.

“No thank you,” you said from your spot on the ground. “I’ll stick with what I have.”

“I know they’re not much but they’ll fit.”

You shook your head again.

You heard a quiet, muffled sigh escape him. “The sun is setting, you’ll freeze to death if you wear those. You can change back in the morning if you really want to.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You took the clothes with a sigh. “Fine. Turn around.”

You’d never seen him move so fast. It was like he was afraid you’d start stripping the second you decided to change.

A giggle escaped you and you watched his shoulders tense up at the noise. It seemed like the two of you were having entirely different kinds of crises.

You got dressed as quickly as you could, a chill starting to set deep in your bones. He’d found you a faded red tunic that hung midway down your thighs and some pants that miraculously fit pretty well.

The boots had thick woolen socks inside and putting them on felt like heaven. You swore you’d never wear pretty shoes again as long as these were an option.

You didn’t bother telling Phillip he could turn around. He’d figure it out in his own time. Or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really your problem.

As you got ready to sleep, you watched him, keeping track of time as best you could. It took him about twenty minutes before he finally peeked over his shoulder, finding you sitting with your back against a tree.

You gave him a halfhearted smile and he cleared his throat. “You should rest now,” he said. “We have to leave at dawn.”

“And when are you going to stop dragging me around with you?”

“Whenever you’d like. I can drop you off at a town tomorrow. I just have something I need to attend to first”

You knew by now not to get hopeful. “Can you drop me off at my town?” You kept asking but you didn’t know what the point of it was. There was nothing for you there anymore. The most you could do was repent. Pay for what you’d done. But for what?

“I can drop you off at any other town.”

You slid down the tree, basically lying on the ground. “Alright.

He spent the rest of the night in full armour and you wondered if maybe part of him thought you might attack him. Either that or these woods were more dangerous than you knew.

He awoke you the second the sun began to peek over the horizon and you groaned, trying to kick him away from you.

He would not be deterred, coaxing you up and onto the back of his horse. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around him for stability with minimal protest. You didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.

It took you too long to realize you'd left your dress behind, discarded in the mud.

The ride was much more comfortable when you weren’t being held captive.

Forests and plains and mountains passed, all foreign and strange. You’d never left your town before, never seen anything like this. Even in your bad mood, it was hard not to admire it.

Your heart stopped as you noticed one of the mountains that the two of you were fast approaching seemed familiar.

It had taken you too long to recognize it but in your defense, you were used to seeing it from a cave right at the peak.

You shut your eyes and prayed to anyone that might be listening that you’d ride right by it.

If the gods were listening, they had a special hatred for you. You weren’t sure you could blame them.

Phillip lead the horse along the precarious path you’d deemed too dangerous only days ago.

You needed to figure out a plan but you had nothing.

With only a few minutes left before you reached the peak, Phillip dismounted, holding out his hand to help you down. You half considered trying to take his horse to go warn Pytho but you had no real idea how to ride one on your own and you couldn’t shake the feeling you’d ride the pair of you right off the cliff edge. The poor creature didn’t deserve that.

You dismounted and Phillip nodded, getting right back on the horse. “You stay here, I won’t be long.”

“No,” you yelled, a little louder than was necessary. Phillip flinched, probably worried it had echoed up the mountain and warned the dragon at the top of his presence. You hoped it had. “I want to come.”

“These are dangerous lands, m’lady. I will not let you get hurt.”

You scowled at him. “You know, people won’t stop saying that to me.”

The helm stared down at you, unwavering, before he gave his horse a swift kick in the side and it rode up the narrow path.

You took off in a dead sprint after him.

You neared the top of the path, panting, just in time to see Phillip creeping into the cave, sword drawn and at the ready.

You had no idea what to do. You couldn’t just stand here and do nothing but you felt frozen in place.

The problem was, you’d rather neither of them were hurt. It felt like an impossible situation.

Pytho needed to be warned but as gentle as he’d been with you, he could decimate Phillip in a second. That much you were certain of, no matter how competent of a knight Phillip might be.

You finally willed yourself to move, darting into the cave to see Pytho standing over Phillip, who had his sword positioned right at the dragon’s neck.

Before you could even think, you shouted, “Don’t hurt him!”

You had no real idea which of them you were talking to but both stopped in their tracks, heads spinning towards you.

For one moment you were terrified one would take advantage of the distraction to harm the other and then their blood would be on your hands. Before the worry had time to settle, Pytho swung his tail around, hitting Phillip over the head with it.

He instantly collapsed to the ground, going limp.

You rummaged around in the saddlebag as Pytho stared at you. When you finally found rope you raised it triumphantly.

Pytho’s gaze followed it up. “What is that?” he asked as you rushed towards the knight.

“It’s rope,” you informed him as you tried and failed to drag him across the floor. As soon as Pytho realized what you were doing, he swept him effortlessly into the corner for you.

You bound his hands behind his back, tethering him to some heavy golden chair that would at least slow any escape he tried to make.

“You’re back,” Pytho said behind you, his voice airy and incredulous and so very grateful.

You turned from binding the knight with a big smile. “I am. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back but this guy led me right here,” he said, nudging at him with your foot.

He didn’t seem to hear any of it. “I can’t believe you’re back.” His eyes were wide, refusing to leave you.

You nodded, grabbing Phillip’s abandoned sword and throwing it right off the mountain, listening to the clanging noises as it bounced all the way down. You glanced nervously at Phillip as you returned, leading his horse over by the sheep. “I am. This is so rude but can you please go for a couple minutes? If you’re still here when he wakes I’m afraid he might perish from fright.”

He nodded. “If that’s what you want. I will be back.”

He bumped his head lightly into you before heading out, flying off somewhere.

And not a moment too soon.

The knight stirred from his slumber. The only way you could tell was by how his helm slowly moved up, rising to meet your gaze.

The second he did he tried to move before realizing he was bound. “Why?” he asked you. “I don’t understand, you… Was this all a trap?” His voice cracked and he sounded genuinely hurt by the betrayal.

You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as he struggled against his bindings. Quiet fearful noises escaped him as he glanced between you and Pytho’s horde.

You shushed him, your hands up in a quiet surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’ll be just fine.”

“We? You’re in cahoots with this monster?”

You bristled at the harsh langue but did your best to be forgiving to the frightened man.

“He’s not a monster. He helped me. Why are you even here? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what I heard. From what I’ve heard he’s been snatching up women.”

You groaned, rubbing at your temples. As you did, the knight leaned forward as much as he could and even through the stoic armour, you could tell exactly when he realized.

“No. But… but you….”

“I just wanted to help my people. I don’t know why every creature within a thousand miles is trying to stop me.”

“If he took you, how did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I asked him to let me go, to be able to make my own choices, and he did. Because he respects me and didn’t kidnap me on the back of a horse!” You tactfully decided to omit the original kidnapping. At least for now. You had a feeling it wouldn’t help your case.

“Please, it’s a dragon, it…”

“He! He’s a dragon! And at least he’s allowed me to make decisions.”

He reeled back. “I… you were going to get yourself killed. I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed. It isn’t right.”

“And it’s not your choice to make.”

He hung his head, helmet clanging against his chest plate.

Pytho chose then to return, his tail swishing happily as he walked. He rubbed up against your side, letting out a happy rumble as he did.

“So they let you go?” Pytho asked, ignoring the man on the floor.

“Not exactly. They were going to kill me. They wanted to make an example of me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t imagine that the example they wanted to set was getting rescued by a knight but I suppose that’s the hand they were dealt.

Pytho turned his gaze to Phillip. “You saved her?”

He nodded hesitantly.

Another pleased noise escaped Pytho. “He’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t let me kill him.”

“About that,” you said and you watched Phillip freeze up, all of his limbs locking. You glanced at him, adding, “I said we weren’t going to hurt you, calm down. I was just going to say, Pytho, you should let him go.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Why? I like him, he’s shiny.”

You suppressed a laugh. “He’s not shiny, his armour is. It’s like clothing.”

“Oh. Why do you creatures insist on that stuff? Seems awfully restrictive.”

Phillip cut into your conversation, saying, “I can’t leave.”

You looked over at him, a wave of irritation rushing through you. “Why not?”

“I can’t leave you here with this beast.”

You had half a mind to throw something at him. “Get this through your head, I don’t need you to save me.”

“It wouldn’t be right,” he continued, undeterred.

“Fine. But I’m not untying you and risking you hurting him.”

“Fine.”

Pytho’s head swiveled between the two of you as you bickered. As the argument finally finished, he asked in a hushed tone, although still lough enough that Phillip could hear, “Does that mean we get to keep him.”

You snorted. “Guess so. It’s your lucky day.”

“It really is,” he said, voice as genuine as it could be.

The sunlight was fast fading and you knew how cold it could get in here. You had no intention of sleeping alone but you glanced at your mostly willing captive.

“Pytho?” you called out.

He turned to you immediately. “Yes? Do you need something?”

“Could you go get some wood?”

“Of course I can,” he said, already speeding off.

When he returned, he had a whole tree in his mouth and another in his talons, dirt still clinging to their roots.

You bent over laughing as he dropped them both in front of you, tail swishing behind him. They’d barely fit through the mouth of the cave, filling up a significant amount of the room and knocking over at least one pile of gold in the meantime.

You got to work snapping off some of the more reasonably sized branches, having Pytho move the trees back outside as you finished.

You set them up a few feet away from Phillip, far enough away that he’d be safe but could still feel the warmth.

“You can breathe fire right?” you called back to Pytho. It would be unfortunate if he couldn’t because you did not have the proper tools to start one here.

He nodded, visibly eager. “Do you need one?”

“Just on the sticks here. Make sure not to burn anyone,” you said, nearing Phillip to ensure that he didn’t forget there was a person inside of the shiny armour and cook him.

With a quick and surprisingly controlled burst of flame, the pile of sticks turned into a quaint little fire.

You gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder as you headed over to Pytho. “Goodnight. Have fun sleeping in full armour.”

He didn’t respond.

You left the fire behind to go curl up with Pytho. No fire could compare to his warm scales, of that you were certain.

A happy rumble escaped him and ran through you as you leaned against him.

He spoke in hushed tones, face right in front of yours as his tail curled around you. “I can’t believe you came back.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his snout. “But I think I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”

His head leaned into your touch immediately, a wistful look in his eyes.

“I wish I could do that.”

“What, kiss me?” you asked with a laugh. “Well, how do dragons kiss?”

Without another word he licked a long stripe up the side of your face, leaving a sticky residue behind.

You giggled as you felt his spit on your cheek. “Well, my way is definitely less messy.”

He let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr, resting his head in your lap. “I like it your way.”

You hummed quietly and you wished he could feel it reverberating through his body the way you did for him. You curled happily into warm scales, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of safety, and fell asleep in your new home.

The next morning, you realized you had no idea how to tell if Phillip was awake or not. He could have escaped and left only his empty armour behind and it would be impossible to tell.

What you did know was that he hadn’t eaten.

Pytho still had some slightly stale bread from your last stay here and you’d brought in all of Phillip’s supplies. You grabbed some dried meat and the freshest of the bread that you could find, heading over to him.

“Good morning,” you said, hoping he could hear you.

He shifted, just barely, to turn to you. It seemed like the most positive reaction you could hope for.

“Okay, you need to eat. Here, just let me.” You went to lift his helm but paused as he flinched away from your hand.

“Please don’t.” His voice was low and shaky.

You backed off, keeping your hands up and away from him. “Okay,” you said, “But you do need to eat.”

There wasn’t any other way to do it. You reached behind him, pressed close to him as you untied his hands. As you struggled with the knots, you felt his breath hitch in his chest.

After a few moments, you pulled away from the newly freed knight, rope in hand. “Tada.”

He froze once more, something you were getting used to, and just stared down at the rope for a minute, flexing his hands by his sides.

With no warning, he grabbed the food you’d gathered for him and stood on shaky legs, giving you a small nod before he headed out toward the mouth of the cave. It was near where the animals were being kept, tied up to some golden pillar near the front. If he wanted to, he could leave here and now.

You waited patiently for him, avoiding looking in his direction, even if you were sure he’d gone far enough that you wouldn’t be able to see him.

He quickly returned, fast enough that he must have scarfed down his food.

He presented his hands to you and it took a second to realize he was waiting to be tied up again.

You scoffed, looking at him dubiously. “Is that really necessary?” It seemed silly to tie him up again after that.

His hands stayed out and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed the rope.

You tied them in front of him this time, taking much less care with the knots as you did.

“Where are you a knight of?” you asked as you pulled the knot taut. “I see no insignias anywhere on you. That doesn’t seem normal.”

“My kingdom is long gone, m’lady.”

“Still so respectful, even after everything I’ve put you through. Well, sir knight, how can you be a knight with no kingdom to serve?”

His head cocked to the side as if baffled by the question. “I know nothing else.”

You paused a moment before asking. “How long have you been doing this?”

He remained ever impossible to read, although that never stopped you from trying. After a long, stoic pause, he simply shrugged and said, “I’ve lost track of the years.”

“And so what? No kingdom to speak of, you just keep fighting?”

“I do what I’ve always done.” Like it was as simple as that.

“Don’t you get tired?”

“I never have the time.”

“Well, sir knight, I think you were just about due for some rest anyways.”

He didn’t respond, the helmet following you as you left him.

He was so stoic. You weren’t sure how it was easier to get a read on a dragon than a man but somehow he’d managed it.

Anything other than silent staring began to feel out of place.

“M’lady,” Phillip called out. You turned, confused. It wasn’t like him to start a conversation.

“Yeah?”

“Where is my sword?” he asked.

You’d forgotten he was unconscious for that. “Oh. I threw it off the mountain.”

“You what? Why?”

Pytho chimed in immediately. “I can get it.”

You shifted between him and the entrance to the cave as quickly as you could. “No, you will not.”

“Why?” asked Phillip.

“What do you mean why? You tried to kill him.”

“I won’t attack him unprovoked.”

“You already did attack him unprovoked.”

“I didn’t have all the information. For that, I am truly sorry, sir.”

Pytho’s chest puffed up at the title. “You are forgiven. And I am sorry that I almost destroyed you.”

That caused Phillip to reel back a little. “You did not. I can best a dragon easily, I almost slit your throat.”

Pytho huffed and you smelled a bit of smoke on his breath. “You did not.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting in. “You’re both very dangerous. I’d still love it if we could keep the sword where it is.”

Phillip nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”

He said it tied up on the floor. Despite not having a weapon, despite his promise not to try and hurt Pytho, despite the fact that you'd already untied him so he could eat.

“This is stupid,” you said, pacing up to him and immediately setting to work on the knots and ignoring his quiet noises in protest.

It didn’t take long to undo them, you’d put barely any effort into tying them in the first place.

“We have to free you so you can eat anyway, I don’t understand your obsession with this little performance.”

Phillip froze, still holding his hands together despite the lack of rope.

“What should I do?” he asked you quietly.

You threw the rope to the side. “That’s up to you.”

It took him hours before he was even willing to stand from his spot on the floor.

His movements were all colored by hesitation. You understood. The freedom made staying a choice. And even when he managed to stand, to move from his corner, he stayed.

He stuck to his corner as often as he could, but nonetheless, he stayed. Watching him sleep alone in the cold, you were certain that this was how Pytho had felt every night when you froze your ass off far away from him.

You both lit the fire for him every night. Pytho has started running off to get wood without you even asking, even if the trees that remained outside left you with enough wood to last years.

His armour got lighter as time passed, forgoing pieces from time to time. No matter what, the helmet stayed. It felt like a part of him, like you could imagine there possibly being a man under there.

He was adjusting to the newfound freedom about as well as you’d expected.

With every small sign of growing comfort, something else went wrong.

A few days after his freeing, while Pytho was out gathering more food for the two of you to eat, you heard him muttering in the corner.

You drifted closer and he paid you no mind. You couldn’t make out any words but you could tell it was frantic.

“Phillip,” you said softly, doing your best not to startle him. “Are you alright?”

You had no idea if you’d frightened him, he remained entirely unreadable. All except for his hands. He had foregone his gloves and much of the armour on his arms and you watched as he nervously fidgeted, threatening his fingers together, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, his hands never staying still for more than a moment.

“I’m wasting time here,” he said. “I have things to do. I have a duty to this land.”

You knew it was near impossible to get through to him but you couldn’t help the urge to try. “It’s a waste to rest?”

“It is. I need to go, need to continue on.”

You sat beside him, as close as you could get without touching. “You should take me back home on your way. I’ve got a duty too, you know.”

His head fell back. Metal against stone sent a clanging noise echoing across the walls. “That’s different. You were brainwashed.”

“I wasn’t. The monsters are real you know. I’ve seen them. We all do, every year. I really would have been saving them. Whatever girl they chose instead of me really did save them. Maybe you don’t think it’s right. That’s fine. It’s an important duty nonetheless.”

“It’s not the same. I’m not being marched to my death.”

“People will still need saving in a week, in a year, in a century. There’s no real, final end to it. There has to be ends to it for you. Little ones. There just has to be.”

His head was turned towards you and you squirmed, feeling like you were being studied.

Finally, he said, “It upsets you.”

“What?”

“That I never stop. That upsets you?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“I can stand tiny ends to it. To ease your mind.”

A sad laugh escaped you. “I’d rather you did it for you.”

“That’s the best I can do right now. You’re the same, aren’t you?”

And you supposed you were. “I can’t go back. I can’t do that to him. Or to you, I guess.”

A small laugh escaped him, a noise you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. “You guess. I’ll take it.”

Pytho returned, entering the cave a little too quickly and knocking one of his piles of treasure over. He dropped a cart in front of you, this one with boxes of pastries covering it.

“The humans seemed to love this one,” he said with his disarming, open-mouthed grin.

“Who are you taking those from?” Phillip asked incredulously, and you were almost certain you could hear a smile in his voice.

You grabbed something that looked chocolatey and when you felt that it was still warm you almost sobbed. “I don’t care who he’s taking it from,” you said, taking a massive bite of it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You scarfed down three pastries, offering a small piece to Pytho, just so he could taste it. He spat it back out, questioning how you could ever eat something like that.

And then you remembered your stoic knight, still sitting beside you, just watching you eat, and a sense of guilt overtook you.

“I’m sorry,” you said and he perked up as you addressed him. “You know, I could turn around or we could close our eyes. We wouldn’t have to see anything. So we could eat together.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for him to politely refuse, instead turning around and signaling for Pytho to do the same. You shut your eyes, just for good measure, as you leaned against the dragon.

The quiet thud of the helmet being set on the floor made your heart swell.

As you took another bite of a pastry, this one filled with a beautiful lemon cream, he slid his hand into your open one and ate behind you, slower than he’d ever eaten before.

Even if it was for you, you hoped he enjoyed it.

And still, no matter how much progress you made, every night he still slept in that goddamn corner.

You were glad Pytho curled up around you at night because then at least you couldn't see him, sad and alone next to his fire, away from the two of you.

You knew Pytho could tell it bothered you. He always did his best to distract you, pull all of your attention to him. He’d gotten pretty good at it.

He was nuzzling into your side, pulling giggles from you as he gave you a big, slobbery kiss on your face.

“What are dragon kisses for?” you asked.

“What?”

“I’m just curious. Humans kiss their kids, their partners, their parents, all sorts of people they love. Dragon kisses don’t feel like something you can do as casually as a kiss on the cheek.”

Pytho perked up immediately. “You love me?”

You pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Of course I do.”

He purred at you as he answered your question. “Well, dragon kisses are just for mates. We aren’t an overly affectionate species.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You know, maybe you can’t kiss like a human but I could kiss like a dragon.”

He tilted his head and you decided to take the gesture as a challenge.

You opened your mouth and licked a broad stripe up the side of his face. His scales tasted ashy and were incredibly smooth against your tongue.

A wave of heat passed through him as you did, a deep guttural sound escaping him.

You pulled back, trying to get a better look at him.

“What was that?” you asked quietly.

He ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide from you. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Something clicked in your head. “Hold on. You said dragons only kiss their mates.”

He nodded hesitantly.

“You kiss me all the time though.”

He whined again, his tail moving away from you and curling in front of him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s strange, I know you’re human, I can't help it. You're so soft and nice and I love you so much…”

As his words got more frantic you kissed his snout again, shushing him. “You should’ve told me. If I’d known my big, strong dragon wanted me maybe I could’ve done something about it sooner.”

You practically watched his eyes glaze over, head tucking into your chest as he purred more.

You gave him all the kisses you could, peppering them along his head wherever you could reach. After about a dozen, you decided to try another dragon one, licking along his jaw.

You were flipped and pinned under him in a second, looking up at a ravenous face. His wings were folded over the two of you, blocking you from the outside world. In here, it was just the two of you.

You couldn’t be happier.

“Please, let me see you,” he hissed and you struggled to get your clothes off as quickly as you could. You kicked your pants off and they got caught on your ankles, spurring on a minor giggling fit, feeling absolutely giddy.

And he just watched, perfectly content to stare down at you as you waged a minor battle against your clothes, desperate to get your bare skin against his.

As you lay below him, finally fully naked, you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. It felt right, the two of you, like this.

“I will never understand clothes,” he informed you. “Why would you ever cover this up?”

His head shifted around, looking at every part of you he’d never gotten to see before.

As his head moved downwards, you could tell exactly when he noticed how wet you were. He stopped moving entirely, nostrils flaring and eyes locked on you.

He nosed at you and you opened your legs for him, spreading them as wide as they could go.

His tongue snaked out instantly, licking a hot stripe through your folds. Whatever he found there seemed to interest him because the next thing you knew his thick tongue was snaking deep inside of you, your walls stretching around him.

You let out a strangled cry, fighting to not snap your legs closed at how overwhelming the sensation was.

His content vibrations ran through you, causing a spark of pleasure to run up your spine.

His tongue found a spot deep inside of you that’d didn’t quite feel like the rest, rubbing against it experimentally and you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream.

It was too much. You’d never felt anything like this before.

His jaw was cracked open over your stomach, his impossibly long tongue reaching as far into you as it could go.

His tongue slowly withdrew from you and you didn��t know whether to beg for him to keep going or take your reprieve from the overwhelming sensation while you could.

You noticed his hips shifting and glanced down. Your heart skipped a beat.

He was massive, probably a foot long.

“That’s not going to fit,” you whispered.

The dragon shook his head. “No, I would never try. You’re too small, it would break you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“What about you?” you asked, feeling bad you couldn’t reciprocate.

“I have everything I need,” he said, nuzzling into your chest once more. “But if you want someone your size, we could always ask for help.”

Your face heated as you realized what he was implying. To be honest, you’d entirely forgotten Phillip was there, too caught up in what you were doing. Oh god, he’d probably heard everything.

Pytho lifted his wings as you looked at Phillip, who had turned to face the wall.

“I am so sorry,” you called out, embarrassment washing over you.

He turned to you slowly and you prepared to get yelled at.

Instead, his voice came out breathy and strained. “Do you want me to help?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared back at him. “I do.

He moved towards the pair of you. “I live to serve”

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted so badly to kiss him and you just couldn’t.

So instead you made do, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He fell next to you, both of you leaning against Pytho.

He froze a little as your hands neared his helmet and you whispered, “Trust me.”

He untensed, although you could sense his anxiety.

You grasped the side of his helmet slowly, tilting it gently to the side to reveal a sliver of his neck. You moved towards it, taking all the self-control you had to go slowly.

He shivered as you neared him, your breath ghosting over his skin.

You started gently, pressing soft kisses into his skin.

Before long you wanted more, nipping at his neck and sucking marks into it as he let out little whines. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed, could feel his muscles tense as you moved.

Eventually, he pulled you away from him and you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Um…” he said, his voice shaky and high. “If you do want me to… to help. You need to stop doing that.

You smiled, resting your forehead on his helm. “If you insist.”

The way you’d pulled at his clothes, shifting his shirt out of the way, meant you could see as he gulped.

His hand hovered inches over your hip, as if afraid to touch you. You covered it with your own, pressing it onto bare skin.

You didn’t mind his staring so much now. You could feel the waves of awe coming off of him as his hands gently slid up and down your sides.

You hooked your fingers into the front of his pants and pulled him closer to you.

“Please,” you asked.

He didn’t bother taking his pants off, instead pulling them down just enough to get his dick out, already painfully hard.

Pytho’s tongue had more than prepared you and Phillip seemed like if someone breathed on him wrong he might come so you wasted no time, pulling him over to you.

Pytho sat there, watching as Phillip pushed inside of you. He was painfully slow, groaning with every inch.

Your walls fluttered as his hand pressed tentatively down on your clit and he had to stop entirely, breathing slowly.

“Do you know how hard it was,” he gasped out as he buried himself fully inside of you, unmoving. “Hearing all that and not touching myself. It felt like torture.

You could feel Pytho shifting behind you, molding himself against your back as you saw his hips twitch, grinding against nothing.

You opened your mouth to speak when your words were cut off with a sharp thrust.

Phillip gripped your hips so hard you were worried it might bruise in the morning. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He slowly found his rhythm, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer as he thrusted inside of you.

You felt something hard against your back, moving as Phillip slammed inside of you again. And then, as if sharing one mind, you felt a sticky substance coat your back just as Phillip gave you one final, hard thrust, groaning as he came inside of you.

As soon as Phillip pulled out, Pytho rushed to snake his tongue back inside of you. It was so dexterous, pressing up perfectly inside of you as he tasted both you and Phillip.

Phillips fingers intertwined with yours as your back arched and you felt waves of pleasure run through you. Pytho seemed intent on working you through it, his tongue moving steadily until you could take it anymore.

You pushed at his head and he lifted it, mouth slick and eyes looking just as dazed as you felt.

You were all gross and sticky and you’d never been happier in your life.

Phillip snorted. “I was supposed to kill you.”

“Plans change,” you said.

“You never could have killed me,” Pytho declared and you couldn’t help but smile as their argument began again.

You woke up in a tangle of limbs. Your head was tucked into Phillip's chest, his arms wrapped around you with just the tip of Pytho’s tail betwixt you. You were both entirely surrounded by him, curled up protectively around you.

Pytho had to take both of you down to the nearest lake to get clean the next morning. He sat patiently at the edge of the pond as both of you washed off the mess from the night before.

Phillip helped you clean, scrubbing your back and running his fingers gently through your hair as you both stood in the waist-deep water.

You’d had the good sense to remove your clothes but Phillip had to clean his along with himself, standing in the water in his pants, shirt, and that helmet.

It seemed a little silly but you wouldn’t bother him over it. It would come in due time. Or maybe it wouldn’t and honestly, you didn’t think you would mind.

Pytho was content watching the two of you, occasionally shifting his tail to splash water at you, a favor you returned to him readily.

As the cleaning finished and the three of you sat on the shore, drying off, Phillip braided your hair as you both leaned against your warm dragon.

You were curious where he’d learned it but scared to ask, to remind him of anything other than this perfect moment.

He did not seem to understand how precious and fragile this moment was, breaking the silence by saying, “I can’t stay here,” and shattering everything.

You looked at him with panicked eyes and Pytho hid his head under his wing.

“What?”

His next words came slower, more gently. “I think we’ve made a little home here. I do. But I can’t just stay.”

You nodded. You understood. “Neither can I. You’re going off adventuring again, right?”

He nodded and you immediately added, before you could lose your nerve. “I want to come.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, his voice not commanding but instead cautious and worried.

“Please. I need to do something, to help someone. I feel like I’ve got a debt on my back. I can’t let it hang over me like this forever.”

He went to protest but you stopped him. “I don’t care what you think, I can’t live with it. Please.”

He nodded. “First, we’re going to need to find my sword.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

“And we can’t come back every night,” he continued. “You’re going to have to spend days on the road. You sure that’s what you want?”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I can manage for a few days.”

Pytho lifted his head from where he was hiding it. “Come back? You said you can’t stay?”

It took a second to understand what he could possibly be asking. The idea of leaving him forever was so inconceivable to you that you hadn’t realized what this must have looked like.

You rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. “No, I’m not leaving you. Neither of us are. We just…I just can’t stay in a cave for the rest of my life.”

“People will still need helping,” Phillip chimed in, standing behind you. “I won’t ever stop doing this. It’s what I was made to do. But it's been too long. I think it was about time I found a home to come back to.”

You smiled at him as you leaned into your dragon’s side. “I think it was.”

#terato #terato writing #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster bf #dragon x reader #dragon boyfriend #dragon #dragon bf #The cws on this are wild #Phillip’s armour set up is a little wonky compared to most real armour #I attribute this to his accursed knight status #Definitely not just for narrative ease #I would never #also I came up with this idea and then wrote the whole thing in like 6 days #Everyone say thank you ducky #lol

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bellflower-goat · 2 years

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<:]

#Brace yourselves the ai-anime-thingy is starting to pop up in my dash more n more and people won't tag it as ai or smthn <:]#this is really not directed towards anyone n I'm sure the images are really funny or something but just. <:]#idk how vagueing works but im not doing that. just to be clear but I am a bit worried #cause if this gets outta hand w the untagged stuff then I'll have to avoid being on this place in general #Wich I don't wanna do but. yeah I might have to do so cause filtering ain't workin any more #if it does get like that then genuinely hope everyone has a good time w those pictures n stuff so yeah #Edit. Yippe my dash is now instead covered with '' this post contains filtered tags'' so yeah :]#hope the a.i genrted imgs end up weird n funky so yall can have a laugh :]

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rafecameronssl4t · 1 month

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First Impressions || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the meeting in which your parents announce your arranged marriage to Rafe.

Warnings: mention of smoking, not much else ???

Word count: 1,724

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Your black Porsche roars down the gravel drive, tires screeching as they skid to a halt just in front of the grand entrance to your family estate. The car’s abrupt stop sends a shower of tiny stones in every direction, the sound cutting through the quiet morning.

With a sigh, you push open the door and step out, the morning air crisp against your skin. Taking one last drag from your cigarette, you savour the moment before dropping it to the ground, the glowing ember snuffed out beneath the heel of your designer shoe.

A quick glance at your watch—10:20am. Twenty minutes late. You were supposed to be here on time, but the delay feels inevitable. With a flicker of annoyance, you brush a strand of hair from your face and stride toward the front door, where the familiar figure of your family’s butler awaits.

“Miss Y/n, it’s good to see you again,” he greets you with a warm smile, the lines of age deepening around his eyes. “Likewise,” you respond, managing a small smile in return. The butler steps aside and opens the door, allowing you to enter the cool, polished interior.

Your heels click sharply against the marble floor as you make your way toward the formal dining room, each step echoing in the vast, silent hall. As you approach the double doors, two servants stand ready, pulling them open to reveal the scene inside.

Your parents sit at the table, their expressions betraying nothing as they notice your arrival. Alongside them are three unfamiliar figures, their backs turned to you, leaving you momentarily confused as to who they were. You exhale softly, bracing yourself, and walk into the room.

“Pleasure to have you finally arrive,” your mother remarks, her voice edged with a tight-lipped grin. Your father doesn’t even glance your way, his attention fixed elsewhere. With a deliberate movement, you stride to the table, tossing your Lady Dior bag onto the polished surface with a loud clatter.

“The pleasure is all mine, mother,” you reply, your voice thick with restrained anger as you take your seat. Finally, your gaze falls on the three guests seated before you—the Camerons. Your eyes land on Rafe, and for a moment, you’re taken aback.

He looks different, more rugged, with his hair shaved off, giving him a harder, more defined look. His eyes, however, remain downcast, focused on the table as if he’s avoiding meeting your gaze. “My, how beautiful you have gotten, my dear,” Ward Cameron’s voice breaks through the tension, drawing your attention to him as he regards you with a smile.

You force a smile in response to Ward’s compliment, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron,” you reply, keeping your tone polite but distant. The tension in the room is palpable, every gesture, every word carefully measured. Your mother’s gaze flickers between you and Rafe, a subtle hint of expectation in her eyes, while your father remains silent, his face a mask of indifference.

As you settle into your seat, the silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. You feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the unspoken purpose of this meeting hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The Camerons, your parents, Rafe—all of them waiting for something, though none are willing to break the silence.

Finally, your mother clears her throat, her voice cutting through the quiet. “We thought it was time for you to meet again,” she begins, her tone carefully neutral. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, and given the circumstances, we felt it was appropriate to… reconnect.”

You glance at Rafe, his eyes still fixed on the table. The last time you saw him, things were different—less complicated, less strained. But now, the distance between you feels like a chasm, impossible to bridge. You wonder if he feels it too, this cold, empty space that has grown between you.

“I suppose it’s been a long time,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. The words hang in the air, unanswered, as you try to find something—anything—to say that might ease the tension. Ward shifts in his seat, his gaze settling on you with a calculating intensity.

“Rafe has been doing well,” he says, as if the words are meant to reassure you, though they have the opposite effect. “He’s matured a great deal since you last saw him.” At this, Rafe finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you walked into the room. There’s something in his expression—an apology, perhaps, or maybe just regret—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same distant, unreadable look he’s worn since you arrived.

“And you, Miss Y/n,” Ward continues, his tone smooth, almost too smooth. “I trust you’ve been well?” You nod, forcing another smile. “Yes, quite well, thank you.” The words feel hollow, a formality that barely covers the unease simmering beneath the surface.

Your mother, sensing the need to steer the conversation, jumps in. “We’ve been discussing some… arrangements,” she says, her voice careful, as if she’s choosing each word with precision. “Given the history between our families, we thought it best to ensure that both sides are… satisfied with the outcome.”

Your heart sinks as the true purpose of this meeting becomes clear. This isn’t just a casual reunion or an attempt to reconnect old acquaintances. This is a negotiation, a transaction between two powerful families, and you and Rafe are the bargaining chips.

You glance at Rafe again, searching his face for any sign of how he feels about this, but his expression remains guarded. Whatever thoughts are running through his mind, he’s keeping them well hidden. Your father finally speaks, his voice low and authoritative.

“This is an important moment for both of our families. I trust you both understand the gravity of the situation.” The weight of his words settles over you, a cold, heavy pressure that makes it hard to breathe. You want to protest, to argue that this isn’t what you want, that it isn’t fair to either of you—but you know it would be pointless. In this world, duty and obligation come before personal desires.

Rafe’s voice cuts through your thoughts, quiet but steady. “We understand,” he says, his tone betraying nothing of what he might actually be feeling. Your mother smiles, a thin, satisfied smile. The silence in the room grows heavier as your father's words sink in, confirming what you’ve both known was coming.

This is more than just a meeting; it’s the formal beginning of the arrangement that has been hanging over you for months. The marriage. The merging of your two families. You glance at Rafe, catching the flicker of frustration in his eyes before he looks away, jaw tightening in silent protest. It’s clear he’s not happy about this, and a part of you understands his reluctance.

But for you, there’s no surprise, no anger—just a deep, overwhelming numbness. This is what your life was always meant to be: a marriage arranged for the benefit of your family, a union to produce heirs, to continue the legacy. There was never any illusion of choice.

As your mother and Ward exchange pleasantries, discussing the finer details of the arrangement, you find yourself tuning out, your gaze drifting to the large windows that overlook the manicured gardens outside. The sunlight streaming in feels distant, cold.

Rafe shifts in his seat beside you, the movement drawing your attention back to the table. His expression is tense, a mixture of resignation and barely concealed resentment. He doesn’t want this—at least, not like this—but he’s trapped in the same web of expectations that binds you.

Your father’s voice breaks through your thoughts, stern and final. “The wedding will take place in two months. The arrangements have already begun.” Two months. The words hang in the air, sealing your fate. You glance at Rafe again, hoping for some sign of how he’s processing this, but his face is unreadable, the brief glimpse of frustration now replaced by a mask of indifference.

For a moment, you wonder what he’s thinking—whether he’s angry, scared, or just as numb as you are. But you quickly push the thought aside. It doesn’t matter how either of you feel. This is what you were born for, raised for. This is your duty.

“We’ll be ready,” Rafe finally says, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion. It’s a statement of fact, not a promise, and you feel the weight of it settle over you like a shroud. Your mother nods approvingly, while Ward offers a pleased smile. “I’m sure you will be,” he replies, as if Rafe’s compliance is exactly what he expected.

The conversation shifts to practicalities—guest lists, venues, and dates—but it all feels distant to you, like watching a play from behind thick glass. You nod and smile at the appropriate moments, playing the part you’ve been trained for your entire life, but inside, there’s only emptiness. This marriage, this life, was decided long before you had a say in it.

When the meeting finally ends, and the Camerons prepare to leave, Rafe stands, his movements slow and deliberate. For a moment, his eyes meet yours, and in them, you see a flicker of something—anger, perhaps, or maybe just resignation. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the same cold detachment you’ve come to expect.

Ward clasps your father’s hand in a firm handshake. “We look forward to the wedding,” he says, his tone full of false warmth. “Likewise,” your father replies, though his eyes remain hard. As the Camerons depart, leaving you and your parents alone in the dining room, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

The future, once a distant inevitability, now looms as a stark reality—a reality you must face with Rafe by your side, whether you want to or not. The weight of it settles over you like a suffocating blanket, each breath growing heavier as the room seems to close in around you.

Your mother’s voice slices through the thick silence, her tone sharp and unforgiving. "How many times must I remind you to break that wretched habit of smoking?" Her eyes narrow in disapproval, her gaze like a blade that cuts through any pretense of warmth. You feel the familiar irritation rise within you, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at her constant nagging.

"I could smell it the moment you walked in, and I’m certain the Camerons did as well," she continues, her words dripping with disdain as she takes a deliberate sip of her drink. The crystal glass clinks against her teeth, a harsh sound that echoes in the tense air. You lower your gaze to your lap, your fingers twisting together in a futile attempt to keep your composure.

The reprimand feels like a ritual by now, one you’ve endured countless times, yet it never fails to sting. Your father’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and unyielding. "Such behavior will not be tolerated once you're married," he declares, his tone cold and final. "Respectable young women preparing to have a family do not indulge in such habits."

His words hit you like a slap, a stark reminder of the life being imposed upon you—one where even your small rebellions are to be eradicated. Your father stands, his movements deliberate and composed as he smooths down his blazer. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his tone firm and unyielding. "Yes, Father," you reply quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you sit there, trying to disappear into the chair.

Your parents leave without another word, their footsteps echoing in the empty room, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. The echo of their disapproval lingers, mixing with the cold reality of your future, a future where even your small, defiant pleasures are not your own.

You sit there for a long moment, the weight of it all pressing down on you until it feels as though you might break under the strain. But you don’t. Instead, you swallow the bitterness, pushing it deep down where it festers quietly. This is your life now, the one you were born into, the one you must live whether you want to or not.

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

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Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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belurorthodontics1 · 1 year

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#Invisalign price #how much is invisalign #invisalign price uk #invisalign smile view #clear braces direct

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suntoru · 9 months

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─ ✰ COUNTDOWN TO YOUR LOVE!!

✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 most definitely does not have a crush on his best friend. so what’s this feeling when somebody else is planning on confessing to you?

— warnings: oblivious gojo af, fluff, mild violence, might be ooc, please be nice i have only watched like the first episode of jjk, idk what else

— author’s note: is it shittily written? yes. but is it finished? also yes. HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES <;33

“guys, guys, brace yourself for the tea i have!! nanamin is gonna confess to y/n tonight at the new years party!!”

“huh?! seriously?” nobara gasps theatrically, her eyes widening in interest. she springs up from the couch, tail -imaginary or not-wagging in anticipation as she eagerly leans in for the juicy gossip.

*chokes* "...what?" gojo gags on his tea, coughing violently. he's surely joking. there's no way. "y/n, as in like, my best friend, y/n?"

“i know, right? i was surprised too!! after all, i was sure mister nanami was more interested in marrying his paperwork than finding real love, but that’s what i heard!” yuji spills, enthusiasm radiating from every word.

"that's... great." gojo manages to mutter, and for once, he has nothing ese to say.

“it’s about time, he’s pushing thirty, and he’s still single… as the youngsters say, he has… L rizz.” nobara laughs boisterously with her hands on her hips, thoroughly entertained by her own joke. meanwhile, yuji cocks his head in confusion at his friend's delusions. …is she going senile?

“well, aren’t you also single…?”

'hush, yuji! the point is, there's gonna be some spicy drama!" nobara squeals, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "we're talking romance unraveling like a well-scripted k-drama!! get ready for some flashy love confessions, and hopefully, a heart-fluttering kiss scene!!"

11: 56 PM

fuck, why can't i focus? gojo groans as he loses yet another round of mario kart to nobara. the image of you lingers in his mind from earlier that day, engaged in conversation with the blonde. he can't ignore the subtle indications; your flustered demeanor, a slight tint of pink on your cheeks, your refusal to make eye contact. clear signs of a crush. you surely like him back, there's no denying it.

and he should be happy for his friend— should be, but all he can feel is an unexplainable tightness that grips his chest, like a weight he can't shake off. he can't quite put a pin on it, it's an unknown emotion, but it all feels ugly nonetheless. it must have been something he ate earlier. ...yeah, that's it.

as he tries to ignore the overwhemling feeling of dispair, his attention flickers to the lively scene, and there you are, donning one of those goofy 2024 glasses that make your whole demeanor even more endearing. a lopsided smile graces your face as you engage in cheerful banter with megumi, and just like that, a fuzzy feeling envelops him, coaxing a smile to creep up on his face involuntarily. but before he can revel in the moment, a sudden flick on his forehead disrupts his thoughts.

"hey— ow, what was that for?" he whines, rubbing his forehead and directing a puzzled gaze towards utahime.

"you're so dense." she huffs in annoyance, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at his apparent obliviousness. he looks up at her, confusion etched across his features.

"i- huh? whaddya mean by that?" he stares at her in confusion. utahime sighs in exasperation, irritation visible. "how stupid are you? do i have to spell it out for you? you. like. y/n." the words hang in the air. ...i ... like... y/n...?

and then it hits him like a brick wall. the reason behind stinging feeling in his chest. you being with nanami meant no more midnight snack runs, no more drunken gossip sessions, no more attempts to fluster you. those simple pleasures, the serotonin rush sparked by your mere smile, threaten to slip away.

the thought of losing you; his best friend, his one and only, shakes him to the bottom of his core. his heart, like a drum, pounds in his chest, a resounding beat of denial and awakening. ...no way... he couldn't... does he...?

could he truly say that the way he always seems to gravitate towards you in group gatherings, the way his eyes subconsciously find their way towards yours, the sudden surge of warmth he gets when you praise him was all truly platonic? perhaps he didn't acknowledge it before, but his heart has long declared what he only now comprehends: he loves you. he loves you.

he's loved you ever since you were five and he was seven, when you announced proudly to everyone that you were now his best friend for life. he's loved you when you were eleven and he was thirteen, when you sought refuge in his arms, tears streaming down your face because of a bully. he's loved you when you were eighteen and he was twenty, hung up on some random jerk who didn't even treat you right.

his eyes dart over to where nanami is, pacing closer towards you— he's going to lose everything if he doesn't move.

he can't lose you.

so he runs across the large room, dashing towards you, heaving and huffing. "FIVE!" everybody begins to chant. "gojo?" you good? need something?" "FOUR!" your voice is soft and sweet, like a honeyed daydream, etched with concern. how could he not have realized, it was you all along? it was always going to be you. "THREE!" "hey." he says breathlessly. "yeah?" you mumble, curious as to what he was about to say next. "TWO!" "slap me if you hate it." "hate what?" "ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!"

he pulls you towards him, using both hands to grab your face, planting a passionate on your plush lips, your eyes widening as everybody else cheers knowingly.

bonus!! earlier:

"you like him. gojo."

nanami simply states, a ghost of a smile on his lips. you feel your face heat up. how did he know? was it that obvious? that's so embarrassing... oh my god. you can't look him in the eye, you just want to shrivel up and disappear in the ground... "you're both so stupidly oblivious." he mutters under his breath.

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wandasslut3000 · 2 months

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Are you desperate for me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, car sex, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering, sex pollen, breast play, marking, praise, cum play, semi clothed sex, mentions of drug trafficking and death.

WC: 2.24k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Wanda are currently in Bari, Italy, on a mission to find locate and arrest a dangerous drug dealer that is rumored to be heading towards London for an important deal.

Your goal is to find his base of operations and destroy his current supply. The suspect in question, Cecil Adams, otherwise known as 'The Count', has been injecting his victims with his test products.

Almost all of them ended up dead within minutes.

"Oh come on."

"It's for the good of the people" Tony said and you rolled your eyes.

"So me and Wanda have to cancel our honeymoon just to find some wack ass Peter Piper? Why can't the police just deal with it?"

"They've tried, but every officer they sent has come back in a casket. You know we wouldn't have asked you if we didn't need to, but the rest of the team is already assigned elsewhere." Steve informed, crossing his arms and expressing a look of sympathy.

You groaned as you buried your face in your hands in annoyance. Wanda grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it her thumb as an attempt to help you calm down.

"A week in Italy wouldn't really be so bad, just think of it as a last minute change of venue." She whispered and you brought your head up to look at her and her bright green eyes.

"I... alright, fine." You couldn't bring yourself to argue with her, turning back to look back at Tony and Steve.

"You owe us two weeks off after this." Both men nodded in agreement.

Four days into your stay, you and Wanda had found his headquarters, an abandoned wear-house at the edge of the city.

You and your wife are rigging the place to blow. Members of S.H.E.L.D waiting just outside of the property as backup.

Wanda had used her magic to knock out the guards surrounding the area, putting handcuffs onto each of them, and with a snap of her fingers, she'd sent them straight into the secured van.

"You done, baby?" You ask Wanda through your earpiece.

"Everything's all set over here"

"Alright then, just make sure you're safe ok?"

You back away from the building with the remote trigger in your hand, your backpack filled with product in the other, you'd managed to sneak in prior and retrieve some per S.H.E.L.D's instructions.

"I will be detka, are you?"

"I'm safe" You assure her as you take small steps backward and away from the building.

Suddenly you feel a cool piece of metal brace itself against your throat, strong muscular arms wrapping themselves around you.

You sigh, reaching for the man's wrists and throwing him on the ground, the knife in his hand flying into the distance.

You hear him groan before you flip him on his back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from your bag and putting his hands behind his back, locking him in place.

"For someone who's created such a hassle, you really need better fighting skills." You mutter, Wanda picking everything through the mic.

You cuff him and grab him by his hair, holding his head up. Pulling a chloroform-laced cloth from your pocket, you knock him unconscious.

"Luybov? What happened?"

"We've caught our culprit." You chuckle as you picked the man up, throwing him over your shoulder and heading towards the front of the warehouse.

You set Adams down, his body limp against the cemented ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Boom.

The warehouse erupts into a riot of flames, painting the area in orange and red.

You notice a puff of smoke head in your direction but it's unlike anything you've seen before, it was... pink?

You tried your best to avoid it but you couldn't, the cloud reaching you and the moment you inhaled it, you cough heavily.

Wanda uses her powers to contain the fire and puts it out, red wisps of her magic encasing the remaining smoke, clearing it into thin air.

Once you can finally breathe, you turn to pick Adams up and hand him into S.H.E.I.L.D's custody. A group of agents taking him into the back of the van along with rest of his henchmen.

You hand one agent your bag of evidence, receiving a nod in thanks before they get inside and drive off.

"You alright?" You feel Wanda's hand grab your shoulder from behind you, her voice is laced with so much love and a hint of worry that makes you fall even deeper for this woman.

You nod, turning to face her and wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a desperately lustful kiss.

The moment your lips make contact you can't help the moan you let out at the sensation. When you pull apart, she noticed how of how your pupils have dilated drastically.

"I think it's time we go back to the hotel, don't you agree?" Your fingers playing with the pendant of her necklace, Wanda smiles back at you and nods, giving you another peck that makes your heart skip a beat.

You'd never felt this needy before.

She brushes her hand past your ear making your breath hitch, disappoint running though you when you realize she was only trying to grab your earpiece, taking her's out right after and putting them in her pocket.

Hand in hand, you both head to car that Tony had lent you for your time here. Wanda opens the door for you, a blush painting your cheeks at her chivalry.

She then heads into her spot in the drivers seat, starting up the car and putting the hotels address in the built-in GPS system.

Once on your way, you feel Wanda's hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You were starting to lose your composure, though the act was innocent, the heat in your pants was becoming unbearable.

"Oh my poor baby," she coos, "I can read your thoughts; they're quite loud."

"Are you desperate for me?"

You feel your eyes shut for a moment at her accent slipping into her words, your thighs clenching at the rasp in her voice.

You grab her hand, bringing it down to your clothed pussy, making her feel how your wetness had already stained through your uniform.

Wanda bites her lip, making a sudden turn, slowing down, and coming to a complete stop in an empty lot. You look at the screen on the dashboard, your hotel a fifteen-minute drive away.

You awkwardly shift towards her, straddling her lap, and reaching to the side for the lever of the seat, pushing it downwards.

She cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply, your tongues meshing together in a familiar dance.

Wanda unzips your suit from the front, smiling at your lack of bra. You pull apart so you can slip it off and throw it somewhere into the backseat, leaving you in just your panties.

You gasp when she sucks different marks onto your neck and collarbone, teasing you.

She's looking at you with innocent eyes, batting her lashes and pressing kisses against your skin, she then takes your nipple into her mouth, her free hand toying with your other breast, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of her head, moaning lightly whilst treading your fingers through her silky strands. "You want me to touch you detka?" She mumbles against you and your breathing gets heavier.

"Please."

You buck your hips against her, grinding on her thigh pathetically, the friction of your panties brushing against your clit in the just the right way, little gasps and moans escaping your throat without permission.

Wanda releases your nipple, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting her to your chest, the sight making you whimper.

You look down at her with dewy eyes, the ache in between your legs becoming unbearable. Your breath shudders when you feel her fingers slip your underwear off, making contact with your wet folds, and you bite your lip at the feeling.

"So wet for me." She whispers, your eyes shutting when her slim digits make contact with your clit, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips. "You like when I touch you like this princessa?"

"Yes- fuck." You moan when she starts to tease your entrance, spreading your wetness thought your folds. When her fingers finally enter you, your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to pump them in and out of you.

"Such a pretty girl." Wanda coos, placing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline, her fingers curling ever so slightly on every pull out driving you insane, a familiar hot coil building up in your stomach.

Wanda repositions her hand, placing her two fingers on her pubic bone, using her free hand to help guide you into riding her.

"You make such pretty noises my darling, make some more." she smiles sweetly at you, making you groan at her words.

Your hands fly to her shoulders to help hold you up, your nails digging into the fabric of her suit, her lips back going to suck onto your nipples, your hips bucking frantically in your effort to chase you upcoming climax.

"Mm- mhmm, yes- Wanda, right- right there!" You squeal when she moves her thumb to put pressure on your neglected bundle of nerves.

"You're so beautiful" she murmurs against you before she pulls away, moving her other hand towards your ass, squeezing it gently.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, baby I'm gonna cum! " Your eyes roll as you let the pleasure faze through you, you hide your face into her neck though your orgasm, pressing a light kiss there as your body trembles around her.

"You did so good detka, such a good girl." You hear her praise, rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as you slowly start to come down from you high.

When you lean back and open your eyes, they land on a lust ridden Sokovian, her pupils completely enlarged as she pulls her digits out of you.

Wanda brings her fingers towards her lips before slipping them both into her mouth, You feel another surge of wetness flow through you, slightly coating Wanda's thighs with my you slick.

She hums, "So sweet." She says as the swipes her fingers through your folds again, your head falling onto her shoulder as you shudder at the feeling.

You feel Wanda hold you up slightly, digits coated with your cum, you moan when she starts to pull at your nipples. "You like that, don't you?" She smiles before pulling you into another kiss.

She moves her lips downwards towards your chest, taking each bud into her mouth, tasting your juices as she swirls her tongue around them.

"Do you think you can do one more for me?" You nod, and she positions you onto her left thigh, guiding you hips as you start to grind onto her.

You whimper as your clit comes into contact with her skin each time you move your hips, Wanda pulls you into another lip lock, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand while her other one helps your movements.

"God- you feel so good..."

Wanda smirks against your lips before moving her hand from my hips towards your overstimulated clit, rubbing tight circles around it before pinching it, sending you into a deeper state of pleasure.

You scream her name and a string of curses, trying to steady your breathing. "So perfect for me." She whispers as she kisses your forehead.

"I love you" You say as you kiss her nose, watching how it scrunches adorably.

"I love you too" She returns, pecking your lips and hugging you close. Both of you sighing in content at the skin on skin contact.

#smut #wlw ns/fw #marvel #wlw post #elizabeth olsen #saphic #wanda maximoff #wandavision #dc comics

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nanaslutt · 10 months

Note

omgg for sukuna edging and him not letting you cum till you’re crying and begging + infront of a mirror 🧎🏽‍♀️

Contains: fem reader, established relationship, non curse au, s*x toys, so much dirty talk, degradation, pussy/clit slapping, teasing, edging, manhandling, dacraphillia, sweet sukuna at the end :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your boyfriend currently had you spread out in front of your full-length mirror, only clad in his oversized s-shit as he sat behind you with a pretty purple dildo in his hand. You watched him rub the lube over the silicone dick through the mirror as he got it nice and wet for you. His steady breaths made your body rise and fall with it from the proximity of you pressed against his chest.

Suddenly his piercing eyes looked up and caught you staring at him, a malicious smirk growing on his face. "You watchin' me baby?" He teased, grinning when he watched your eyes fall over to his large hand stroking the toy, no longer to spread the lubricant over it, just to tease you. You nodded at his words, "Good, want you to watch me when I fuck 'ur pussy with this dick too." He instructed, making you nod again. "Words~" He drawled, tsking at you, he knew you knew better. "Yes, Sukuna." You said, making him hum in approval.

"Spread your pussy for me." He instructed, staring into your soul as he waited for you to follow his direction. A hiss left his mouth as he sucked a breath in through his teeth when you reached down with one of your hands to spread your folds apart in a V shape for his watchful eyes. "Why are you so wet baby? Huh?" He asked biting his lip as he brought the dildo in front of you and started rubbing it through your folds teasingly.

You shrugged, looking in the mirror as he pet your pussy with the silicone. A big hand was gripping the bottom half of your face before you knew it, tilting your head up in the mirror to make eye contact with him. "Keep that 'not talking' shit up and I promise you won't be cumming tonight." He said, all teasing vanished from his tone. You didn't mean to piss him off, this was new and you were both excited and nervous, but clearly, that wasn't a good enough excuse to ignore Sukuna.

"Sorry, 'm sorry." You whispered, keeping your eyes on his in the mirror. "That's more like it, it's so easy to use your words, right?" He asked, nodding your head for you with his grip on your chin. "Yes." You responded, loud and clear, making his grin appear back on his face at your obedience. "Now hold your thighs apart for me while I fuck this cunt." He instructed, making you swallow hard as you spread your knees to what was most comfortable and kept your hands braced on them, not trusting you would be able to keep them open with your thighs alone at how rough he could get.

Sukuna pressed the head of the silicone dick against your entrance, making you think he was going to push it in as he watched you hold your breath in the mirror; instead, he pulled it back out and started rubbing it through your folds again. The toy was way smaller than Sukuna's cock, sure, but you have used it many times on your own and it always got the job done. You were assuming with Sukuna having control over it now it was going to do a lot more than just get the job done.

The pink-haired man repeated the same action, pressing it against your hole, deeper this time, letting the tip catch inside the ring of your cunt before he pulled it out again. He made the tip of the dick kiss your clit, rubbing circles there before he rubbed the length between your folds and got the toy even wetter. He was sure you would've started begging for him to put it in at this point, but you were behaving too well after your slip-up earlier of not talking, so he would have to go about getting you to beg another way; he was sure this way would work.

He knew you were needy from the way your hole was dripping slick down between the slope of your ass, and your cunt clenching around nothing as your clit throbbed in tandem under his watchful eyes. "Pussy achin' for it?" He asked, dropping his hold on your chin to slide his hand under his shirt you were wearing to pinch your nipple and roll the bud between his fingers as he spoke. "Yes, p-please Sukuna." You begged, your eyes fluttering when he tweaked your nipple just right, sending shivers down your spine.

"Not actin' like it." He said, bringing the dildo away from your cunt before he slapped it heavily back against your folds, making wet 'plp' sounds emanate in the room as your body jerked forward at the stimulation. "Usually you lose 'ur mind if I don't give you my cock right away~" He teased. You brought your clouded gaze up to meet his eyes instead of watching his ministrations on your pussy. "S 'cos it's not ur dick Kuna." You said honestly. He swore he felt his heart skip a beat at your words, you could be so unpredictable sometimes.

"That right?" He asked, his grin spreading on his face as he watched you nod and verbally answer 'yes'. "My cock the only one that gets you all riled up?" He asked, biting his lip as the two of you kept your gazes on one another. "Only your cock, only you." You said, whining when he started pushing the silicone into the tight ring of your cunt. "So I should give you my dick instead of this stupid toy, right?" He said, his jaw dropping still in a smile while he watched your mouth fall open in a small o the deeper he pushed the toy.

"Wanna feel your boyfriend's cock stretchin' out ur pussy instead of this shit?" He teased, working you up with his words alone as he pressed the toy to the hilt and rotated it in circles against you. "Yesyes, P-please K-kuna wanna feel it-" You begged, pouting your lip up at him. He gave a curt laugh before speaking, "Thats too bad~" His voice rang out before he started thrusting the toy into your cunt, watching your eyes drop to his massive hand enveloping the base of the toy while he fucked in expertly in and out of your cunt, angling it up every time he thrust inward to make sure he was hitting your sweet spot.

"You sure you only love my cock?" He said, laughing. "You're acting like such a slut moaning on another dick right in front of me." Sukuna chastized, his gaze finally leaving your eyes as he dropped them down to watch your cunt suck in the pretty toy. "N-no-" You whine, only being able to get out that one word when the hand that was pinching your nipples slides down your body to draw circles against your clit. "No? No what~?" He teased, trying his best to hold back a groan when he felt the toy become harder to pull out of you from how hard you were squeezing around it.

"I'm n-not a slut-" You cry, gasping and moaning through the pleasure he was so roughly giving to you. He laughs absurdly, "Look at yourself!" Sukuna said, giving you a harsh thrust that made you cry out when you didn't immediately obey. "Hey, slut, I said look at yourself." He repeated. You slid your gaze up to admire your current state; your hands were perched on your knees to keep your shaky thighs apart while your massive boyfriend sat behind you and fucked a dildo into your cunt while he rubbed your clit, you did kinda look like a slut.

"Now tell me you don't look like some whore." He giggled, switching up his thrusts from fast and needy to slow and rough, making you yelp every time he fucked the silicone into your pussy. He took your silence as an answer, giggling before he tapped a few fingers harshly on top of your too-sensitive clit, making you jolt forward. "That's what I thought, my pretty girlfriend is a cock-hungry-" thrust "Slut-" His mean words and precisely coordinated thrusts were about to throw you over the edge, your breaths started crescendoing, getting higher and higher in pitch; Sukuna watched as you eyes started to flutter shut and your legs tired to shut under the force of your hands keeping them apart.

"S-sukunaa~ G-gonna Ngh-" You cried out when the circles against your clit grew tighter, faster, you were almost there- fuck- so fucking close, and suddenly- the stimulation stopped altogether as he ripped the dildo from your cunt and drew back his hand from your cunt. He had a malicious smile plastered on his face when your eyes cracked open again, wondering what had happened. "W-why did you stop?" You asked, heaving oxygen greedily into your lungs. "Did you ask me if you could cum?" He said, keeping his gaze intently on your face.

"N-no" You replied, swallowing and briefly looking away before you looked back at him, an incredulous look spreading across his features as he raised his eyebrow at you, "Oh so you know you didn't and you tried to cum anyways?" He asked, "Thought you might've been too fucked out to remember to ask, but you were just being sneaky." he tsked at you. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, "N-no swear, I didn't do it on purpose!" You tried to tell him, to which he gripped your jaw and turned your face to look at him as he brought his face down to your level, his breath hot against your lips.

"Oh so now the story changed? You wanna cum so bad you'd lie to me?" He tilted his face at you while you shook your head and repeats of 'no no no's' fell from your lips. He tsked at you again before he roughly turned your head back towards the mirror and started rubbing the dildo along your folds again, silently. You knew you fucked up, Sukuna being verbal and degrading was worrisome, sure, but silent Sukuna was even more terrifying.

With no warning, he pushed the cock inside your cunt once more and started a brutal pace with no warm-up. Your hips thrust forward to meet him halfway as you fucked yourself on the silicone. "So needy." He chastised, watching you take the pleasure he was giving you. The pace he had set combined with the hand he eventually brought back down to your clit was quickly working you up to another orgasm. Knowing what you had to do this time, you verbalized it to him before you selfishly tried to take the orgasm that he gave you.

"Baby g-gunna cum- can I? Can I cum?" You asked, making sure to look him in the eyes as you did so. "Aww, thanks for tellin' me princess~" He cooed, smiling in faux appreciation; you knew something was off. He opted to leave your question unanswered as he continues fucking the dildo in and out of your cunt, hitting your g-spot straight on and rubbing your clit with pinpoint precision until you were seconds from your orgasm and he pulled the cock out of your walls once more, while simultaneously abandoning your clit, leaving you it to twitch as your cunt clenched around nothing at the loss of another orgasm.

You wined at the loss, squeezing your eyes shut as you tipped your head back to lean against his strong shoulder. "Fuckkk- I was so close-" You cried, feeling the tingle and heat in your tummy die down once more as your orgasm slipped out of reach. "Aww, that really sucks doesn't it?" Sukuna cooed, pouting his lip out at you in faux sympathy. "Maybe if you beg realll good I'll let you cum." He said, going dizzy when you opened your eyes and gazed at him so hopefully.

"Please Sukuna please-" You begged, keeping your eyes on his and his on yours as he absentmindedly slid the dildo back into your cunt and started thrusting. His jaw mimicked yours as it fell open in a small o shape at the feeling of him fucking you again. "Please what baby? What do you want?" He teased, wanting to hear you say it. He started rubbing your clit once more, bringing on the feeling of your orgasm faster this time, "Wanna c-cum please, 'm sorry for trying to g-get away with it before p-please." You begged, feeling it creep up and up and up- "Ohh, so you were trying to get away with it?" He smiled, before pausing his efforts on your cunt, not pulling away, just keeping his hands still from where they worked.

You wined out again, trying to wiggle your hips onto the cock but to no avail, he kept the cock pulled out of you just enough that you couldn't hit that sweet spot inside you alone. You were getting so frustrated, you felt like you were going to cry. You said you were sorry, you said all the things he wanted you to say so why was he being so mean? Your thighs twitched and shook against your hands as you successfully kept them apart throughout this entire session, at least you could do one thing right.

"Baby please I cant t-take it, I said I was sorry, I'm k-keeping my legs open, please Sukuna it hurts, let me cum, please." You begged, your eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill over your lash line. Sukuna felt his heart threaten to beat out of his chest, your wines and teary eyes made him feel hot all over, hearts practically formed in his eyes as he watched you beg sweetly. When he watched the first tear spill down your cheeks he brought his hand up from your clit to wipe it away with his thumb while smiling, "Big baby." He said softly.

"Surely you don't think of me so lowly that you think I would really leave you unsatisfied." He smirked, grabbing the bottom half of your face in his hand and shaking it for you while you pouted at him. He dropped his hand back down to your clit and started rubbing it slowly, keeping the dildo still inside you. "You mad?" He asked, watching as your eyes started to flutter at the soft stimiulation.

His smile grew when you nodded, he would excuse your lack of a verbal answer now, he did feel bad for making you cry after all. "I'm sorry~" He said, trying to hold back the humor in his voice that he found in your angry face. "Not mad enough to push me away though right?" He checked. You shook your head, relaxing against his chest while he rubbed your clit faster. "Good, gonna make you cum so hard." He whispered, slowly thrusting the dildo inside of you. "Cum whenever you want~" Were the final words that left his lips before he started the rough pace you so loved into your pussy.

Your eyes fell shut, gasps and whines freely left your lips as he fucked you with the silicone aggressively. He bit his lip watching a white ring of your arousal gather on the bottom of the dildo as he fucked it in and out of you, you must've been so worked up to get this wet. It hardly took a minute before you felt like you were going to cum again, this time it felt like it was going to be an intense one. You moaned out his name under your breath as you started squirming against him.

"Already?" He teased, spelling his name over your clit as he fucked into your g-spot and worked you towards your high. "Gonna cum for me?" He asked, noticing how much you were wiggling against his chest. You nodded, gasping his name over and over as he worked you into what would be one of the most intense orgasms of your life. "Fuck fuck fu-ck-" You were cut off as the first wave crashed over you. Your hands dropped to grip his wrist that was rubbing your clit as your legs shut around his hands.

"Yeahh~ Take it, baby, that's fucking right~" Sukuna groaned, fucking the dildo into you as he worked you through your orgasm. Your body jerked forward, and he followed you, as you came hard all over the silicone. This was by far the best orgasm you've ever got out of this toy, and you had him to thank for it. "God you're squeezin' it so fuckin' tight." He laughed as he started slowing the thrusts inside you but kept his ministrations up on your clit as the last waves of your orgasm wracked through you.

You relaxed against him with a sigh, heaving the air into your lungs as he pulled his hand away from your clit and slowly slid the dildo out of you; while you wined at the oversensitive feeling; and he threw the toy off to the side. "Did so good cumin' all over that cock for me~" Sukuna whispered into your ear as he wrapped his arms around your shaky body and watched you in the mirror.

"See? Aren't you glad you waited? Felt so much better, huhh~?" He teased, making you crack your eyes open and glare at him maliciously, still heaving air into your lungs as you gave him a silent but deadly look. "Sheesh~ Okay woman, sensitive topic." He laughed, making you sigh as you shut your eyes once more and let his warmth envelop your body.

#i want him to ruin me #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna scenarios #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #gojo smut

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girlgenius1111 · 8 months

Text

with a high comes a crash.

barcelona femeni x reader

Alexia heard the sirens. Rationally, she tried to convince herself that it wasn't you. You had only left a few minutes ago, and the sirens were still pretty far. It couldn't be you.

Then the sirens got closer. And closer. And Alexia thought she was going to throw up. She couldn't decide whether to call you or not, afraid to distract you while you were riding if you were fine. She told herself that she was just driving to the dealership after you to give you a ride home. That was all.

She probably shouldn't have been driving, hands shaking as she turned the car on and pulled out of her driveway. The sirens were still loud, and she followed them; not because she was trying to, but because that was the direction she knew you'd been going.

When she turned the corner, and saw the accident scene a block down, she pulled the car over, and got out. She ran the distance towards the wreckage, slowing to a stop when she got close enough to see what was going on. Alexia surveyed the scene. First she saw a car that didn't look very damaged. There was debris on the road, though, and she followed it to find a bike on the ground. Your bike.

It looked mangled, crushed, and Alexia had to take some deep breaths, feeling like she might pass out. Once her vision cleared of black spots, she look back up, and she found you.

Well, what she assumed to be you. An obscured form on the ground, halfway across the intersection from the bike, surrounded by paramedics. The blonde was frozen for a minute, and then she wasn't, running forward at full speed, shoving past anyone who got in her way, until she was a few feet away from you. A paramedic rose from next to you, approaching her.

"Miss? You shouldn't be over here," he said somewhat firmly.

Alexia could only make a choked sound come out of her throat, eyes trained on your face. Your eyes were shut, blood covering the left side of your forehead. You looked so small, so fragile. Alexia clenched her fists, needing to keep it together.

"Miss, are you okay?" The paramedic asked, moving closer to rest a hand on Alexia's arm. She was swaying slightly, and completely pale.

"Is she okay? Is she alive?" Alexia croaked out. The paramedic looked closer at her, before his eyes widened. He did a double take, seeming to recognize you now that he knew who was standing in front of him.

"She's pretty banged up, but she's breathing." It wasn't very reassuring, but Alexia let the words wash over her, nodding her head. She forced herself to calm down, to act rationally. They were securing you to a backboard, strapping you into the neck brace. They were preparing to move you to the ambulance, and Alexia moved to follow them.

"I will go in the ambulance." She declared, and no one really bothered to argue with her, instead directing her to wait for them to get you settled, before gesturing for her to climb in with you. There was only one paramedic back there with you now, getting you attached to all sorts of machines. Alexia got her first good look at you as she sat down shakily on the bench. Her hands hovered over you, wanting to take your hand in hers, but unsure if she could without hurting you.

"You can hold her right hand," the paramedic said. She didn't really look at Alexia, but her voice was kind. Alexia wrapped your hand up in her larger one, as gently as if the the whole limb was broken, ready to crumble into a million pieces. Or maybe, that's just how Alexia felt.

A beeping sound jerked Alexia out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see your heartbeat on the monitor. She tried to figure out what it meant, what the little zigzags meant, but she was a footballer for christ sakes, and she didn't know if the little spikes were good or bad. She decided that they were good, that they meant that you were breathing, regardless of if anything else was going on.

Alexia was silent, gripping the seat under her as the ambulance weaved in and out of traffic. The paramedic seemed to be done attaching you to things, and she placed a piece of gauze on your forehead, holding it there before she looked up at your captain, and addressed her.

"She was moving around a little when we got there, so we're confident her spine is intact. Looks like both of her legs are okay. Pretty bad road rash on the left side, but nothing internal. Her ribs are a different story, the impact with the car has left a few broken. Her left arm is broken, too, probably in multiple places, from the impact with the ground. She was smart, and she had a helmet on, so while her pupils indicate a concussion, it could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse." As she spoke she pointed at different parts of you, explaining to Alexia what the bruises and cuts on you meant. Your left leg did look awful, scraped and bleeding. They'd cut your shirt off, and your abdomen was already turning a nasty shade of blue. The bleeding on your head was stopping, and you looked somewhat more comfortable. Alexia asked the question you knew you'd want her to ask.

"Her legs are okay? Really?" It seemed impossible to her, that the rest of your body could be so beaten up, but your legs were just scraped up.

The paramedic nodded, a bit of a bewildered look on her face. "Somehow, yes. There are no indications of any broken bones, and she was moving them around until she passed out. I don't... I don't know how. I've never seen an accident of this magnitude be so mild."

Alexia felt a shudder run through her at the statement; if this was mild, if this should have been worse... She shook her head. It wasn't worse. You were okay. You were okay. The paramedics studied Alexia for a few seconds before speaking again.

"I'm not supposed to say this, but you can relax a little. All indications are that she'll be alright. Banged up, yes. A few painful months in her future. But it's a miracle that she's alive, and an even bigger one that she isn't more injured."

Alexia let out a shaky breath, feeling like she could have leaned over and kissed the paramedic at her words. She appreciated the kindness she was showing her, the information she gave Alexia, that she wasn't really supposed to. The ambulance was slowing to a stop, and Alexia could hear raised voices approaching the doors.

"It's going to get pretty crazy in a second, and they won't let you in with her, but she'll be in good hands, I promise." Alexia nodded again, clearing her throat.

"Thank you. So much." She said, knowing that her words weren't enough to express her gratitude, but not really sure what else to do.

The doors opened then, and someone was helping her out of the ambulance. What felt like a million doctors and nurses were bringing you in the doors, one of them shouting for Alexia to follow them in, and find a seat in the waiting room.

Numbly, she did, sinking into the first available chair she saw. There were a lot of people she needed to call, yes. People at Barcelona. The other captains. Your teammates. Your national teammates. Her hands were trembling violently, though, and she suddenly felt dizzy again. She was in shock, she realized. How ridiculous. She was fine. Seeing you like that... it was the worst thing she'd ever laid her eyes on.

Alexia didn't make any of the calls she was supposed to. She decided that just for now, she didn't need to be a responsible captain. She could be someone that cared about you, who was terrified, and needed someone to get here and tell her that everything would be okay before she really freaked out.

She called the only person she knew wouldn't be mad at how emotionless her voice was about to sound. The only other person that she trusted to get here as fast as humanely possible, and know exactly what Alexia needed. Someone who could be in charge, just for a little bit.

-----

Mapi and Ingrid had to drive past the scene of the accident on their way to the hospital. Ingrid was driving, deciding that Mapi could call the people she needed to on the way to the hospital. The Spaniard was on the phone with Lucy when they drove by, and she got a glimpse of your bike, crumpled on the ground.

"Joder" She murmured, reaching a hand over to grab onto Ingrid's leg, anywhere she could steady herself on her girlfriend.

"What?" Ingrid asked, glancing over in concern at her girlfriend, who looked like she was about to be sick.

"What?" Lucy echoed from over the phone, sounding frantic.

"Nothing, nothing. Just worried." Mapi said, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. Neither of the other girls believed her, but they let it go.

"Okay, Mapi. I'm heading to the hospital now, Ona's with me, gonna grab Keira on the way. Call Irene. She'll decide who else needs to know."

"Okay." Mapi agreed. Lucy had never experienced such a reserved Mapi Leon before, one who followed her instructions without any jokes or comments. It scared her.

Mapi made the other phone call. Ingrid had grabbed her hand at some point, and Mapi wasn't really sure who was squeezing harder. She got through the call with Irene, who she made promise not to drive herself to the hospital, to have her wife take her.

"You're driving." Irene huffed angrily, not wanting to wait any longer to get to you, and to Alexia. Her wife wouldn't be back for 20 minutes. She needed to be at the hospital now.

"No, Ingrid is driving. Ingrid is calm in a crisis, and Ingrid is driving because my hands are shaking, so don't you dare drive. Don't you dare." Mapi's voice was thick, the horror of another accident happening washing over her. It was a ridiculous thought, but Mapi couldn't help the fear that was choking her right now. Irene agreed, a combination of Mapi's pleading voice, and the reason behind her words, convincing her.

"Okay. Just get there. Fast."

Ingrid accelerated.

-----

They practically stormed into the waiting room. It was mostly empty, an oddity for an afternoon in the city, but both girls were grateful nonetheless. They took one look at Alexia and came to the conclusion that she wouldn't really want anyone seeing her like this, let alone strangers.

"Ale?" Mapi said gently, moving forward. Alexia was sat in a chair, head in her hands. Her whole body was shaking, blonde hair falling into her face and blocking Mapi from seeing the tears that were surely falling. Alexia's head snapped up when she was addressed, and she stood, taking a frantic step towards her friend, practically collapsing into Mapi's arms.

"She was- it was so bad Mapi. The paramedic said she would probably be okay, but it was so bad. The bike was... and she was so far away from it..." Alexia's words were slightly strangled, and Ingrid regretfully pulled her captain away from her girlfriend, directing her back to her chair. Mapi sat next to her, and Ingrid instructed them both to stay put. She went to find water. Alexia was clearly in shock, and Ingrid knew that she would feel that she had to pull herself together before anyone else arrived.

'Calm in a crisis' Ingrid gave herself a minute to rest her head against the vending machine. Ale had said that the paramedic had said you'd be okay. That was all that mattered.

She returned, finding Alexia slightly better off than she'd left her. Mapi had pulled off her own sweatshirt, and yanked it down over Alexia's head. The blonde had only had on a t-shirt, and it was slightly cold in the waiting room. That probably wasn't the cause for the tremors running through Alexia's body, but regardless. Ingrid crouched in front of Alexia, uncapping the water and handing it to her, instructing her to take small sips. Alexia complied, and the couple exchanged a look. They'd never seen Alexia like this. Ever.

Alexia took several sips of water, before sitting back, and running her hands over her face. She relayed everything the paramedic had told her to the others, and they, in turn, told her the situation with the others due to be arriving soon.

After that, they sat mostly in silence, Ingrid taking a seat in the chair next to her girlfriend, knowing that the Spaniard needed her close. She needed Mapi close, too, honestly.

Lucy, Keira, and Ona arrived in a flurry of chaos. Keira was weirdly calm, Ona just looked freaked out, but Lucy was... a mess. She looked disheveled, like she'd been through a wind tunnel on the way to the hospital. She'd barely stepped in through the door before she was asking question after question, pacing back and forth, then sitting down, and then pacing again. Keira sat silently across from the other girls, while Ona hovered anxiously wherever Lucy went, not quite sure what to do.

Alexia's face had transformed completely when the others had arrived. She looked calm, expression deadly serious as she answered Lucy's questions. She was Captain Alexia again, putting her own feelings aside for the sake of the others.

She made Ona eat a granola bar when she decided that the girl looked too shaky. She made Keira come sit next to her, wrapping an arm around the Englishwoman. She finally told Lucy to stop pacing and sit down, after Lucy stood for the 18th time to go ask the receptionist for an update. Lucy listened instantly, sinking back into her chair without an argument.

Irene arrived a bit later, informing Alexia that she'd called Barca, and let the team know what was going on, but instructed them to not come to the hospital, because they didn't want to crowd the place. Only seconds after the words left her mouth, the doors were sliding open again. In came Pina, Patri, Cata, Jana, and Bruna. Irene looked at them, and sighed deeply. Her face could only be described as one of a person "considering early retirement."

To their credit, they were rather reserved, each accepting the tight hug that Alexia pulled them into, before finding chairs and quietly talking amongst themselves.

It was quite a sight to see when the doctor came out look for your family, and instead finding 11 members of the Barcelona women's squad, in various states of distress. They provided a brief update to everyone, before seemingly picking up on the energy Alexia was putting out, that if they didn't take her to see you, she would probably start throwing chairs, and allowing her and one other person to go back to see you.

Alexia followed right after the doctor, practically breathing down his neck. Mapi looked around, at Irene, and at Lucy, who both gave her a nod. You needed Alexia. And Alexia needed Mapi. Ingrid gave her a little push, and the defender walked down the hall, somewhat terrified for what was awaiting her there.

----

Getting hit by a car really fucking hurt, it turned out. Every bone in your body ached, and you were sure that if you opened your eyes, you'd find that you were just one large bruise. You were in and out for a while, not quite awake enough to open your eyes. You could hear people talking each time, though.

First, it was Alexia's voice, strong and confident, talking to the doctor. Then it was Alexia's voice, small and weak, telling you that you better wake up soon before she freaked out. If you were able to talk at that point, you would have pointed out that it seemed she was already freaking out.

Mapi's voice was there, then, telling you that, thanks, now Ingrid was NEVER going to let her get a motorcycle. Alexia laughed at that, but the laugh seemed to turn into a sob, and you could hear Mapi telling her to stop being so dramatic, because you were fine. She was using her soft voice, though, the one she used for the people she loved. (You, Ingrid, Alexia, and the cat. That was the list.)

When you finally did manage to wake up, it was dark out, and the room was slightly more occupied than it had seemed before. Mapi and Ingrid were both asleep in chairs against the wall, hands tangled together. You caught a glimpse of Lucy and Keira in the hall, on the phone with someone. Probably Sarina, you decided. Alexia was in a chair by your bed, as close as she could pull it. Her eyes were on you, absolutely staring into your soul, and you jumped a little when you realized.

"Jesus," you hissed, waves of pain washing through you.

"You're awake! She's awake. Guys, she's awake," Alexia said gleefully, turning to Ingrid and Mapi who woke up rather slowly. Alexia stood, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your gauze-wrapped forehead. When she sat back down, there were unmistakably tears in her eyes.

"Don't you ever, ever, do that to me again." She said seriously.

"I'll make sure to tell the car not to hit me next time." You agreed, matching her serious tone. Mapi snickered, and Alexia grimaced.

"Next time. You're never going on a motorcycle again. Or driving. I'm going to drive you everywhere, and you're going to sit in the backseat. And wear a helmet." Her tone was lighter, but you really weren't convinced that at least a part of her didn't want to do that.

You laughed, and then winced as the movement made your entire abdomen spasm with pain. Alexia's face scrunched with worry, and Ingrid and Mapi leaned forward. You didn't want the focus the be on your pain, though, so you asked a question you were dreading the answer to.

"What's wrong with me?" You asked, preparing yourself for the worst.

"Concussion, mild though. Broken ribs. Broken arm. The skin on your legs will be back one day, but no broken bones there." Alexia listed. You smiled again, delighted that your legs were okay, and a little moved at how hard Alexia was trying to make you smile, when it clearly looked like she'd had the most stressful day of her life. Which she probably had.

"When can I play again?" You asked. Alexia frowned.

"When you're all better." She said, refusing to give you a time that she knew you would latch onto, and meet, regardless of how hard it was.

"When Alexia is comfortable with you being more than 2 feet away from her." Mapi interjected, ignoring the look sent her way by both her best friend and her girlfriend.

The doors opened then, and Keira and Lucy walked in. They both lit up at the sight of you, awake and alert.

"You have to be the dumbest person on earth. Could no one have gone to buy your motorcycle from your house? You had to drive it again?" Lucy scolds.

"I like to keep things interesting." You say, smiling at both of them. They roll their eyes in response, each pressing a kiss to your cheek, before sitting in chairs on the other side of the room.

"Sarina?" You asked. They nodded. "How angry is she?"

"Her exact words were 'what the hell was she doing on a motorcycle,' and then 'I'll let Williamson deal with her. Whatever she comes up with will be far worse than anything I could manage.'" Keira tells you.

Leah would be killing you, you were sure. You turn to Alexia, who had been too quiet, and definitely not scolded you enough.

"You're making me move back in with you aren't you?" You ask, eyeing your captain warily.

"Yes." She said, daring you to argue.

You sigh. "Where am I going to park my new bike at your place?"

Alexia's face gets all red as the room falls into laughter and you smile at her triumphantly. "I will lock you in your room." She says through clenched teeth.

"I'll sneak out the window like last time," you dismiss. "Mapi showed me how."

Alexia turns to Mapi, trying to manage some anger, but she's really too grateful for everything her friend had done for her today. her expression softens when she meets Mapi's eyes, and Mapi goes from looking like she's in trouble, to softening as well.

You watch the strange interaction, and realize that today must have really been hell for Alexia. Hell for everyone, but Alexia was a worrier, and as established, she cared a lot about you.

She'll have plenty of time to fuss over you, though. The next months were sure to be painful and awful, and you were secretly glad that Alexia was moving you back in. You weren't good with pain, or sitting out, or taking care of yourself like you should. Everything felt okay, now, because you were alive, and not paralyzed. Tomorrow would be harder. As you have this thought, you reach for Alexia's hand with your one uninjured arm. She turns to you, grabbing it tightly, and sending you a reassuring smile.

Her face told you that she knew what you were thinking, and the determination there told you that she would get you through this, whatever it took. The whole team would. You relaxed slightly. You could deal with tomorrow tomorrow. Today, you focused on the joy of being alive, and joking with your teammates.

-----

hope this was worth the wait :)

not opposed to an angsty recovery part 3 but let me know your thoughts.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader

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justabigassnerd · 1 month

Text

Reunion

Pairing - Tim Bradford x reader

Word count - 5,765

Warnings - inaccurate medical, military, and police scenes, sexist comments, mentions of domestic abuse, gun violence, blood, swearing, teeny bit of angst

Summary - years after the last time Tim Bradford had seen you, you turn up at Mid-Wilshire as his rookie

A/N - hey y'all! so so sorry it's been a while with no fics. I truly have no excuse and I hope the wait was worth it. this was an anon request so I truly hope this was worth the wait and I did your idea justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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Most people who worked with Tim Bradford knew about his past in the military. They knew he had served on two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. But they didn’t know about you and the friendship he had with you. You had served under Tim’s command on both deployments and had been his clear favourite of the whole regiment, but after an event, the two of you ended up parting ways against your own wishes and left Tim believing he was destined not to have nice things.

That was until one fateful day when you stepped into the Mid-Wilshire station.

You had arrived bright and early ready for roll call. You had just completed your time at the police academy and now you were reporting for duty on your first day of being a rookie. Upon entering, you got directions to the locker room and made your way to your allocated locker to change into your uniform before making your way out to the rec room and sitting in the front row with the other rookie. You recognised the older rookie from your time in the academy but your paths hadn’t really crossed often. You used the opportunity to get to know your fellow rookie while the room filled up before Sergeant Grey stood at the front of the room to begin the roll call. After he had gone through the normal briefings for the day, Grey turned his attention to you and the other rookie sat in the front row.

“As you can see we have two new rookies. If you could please stand up and introduce yourself and then I’ll assign you to your training officers.” Grey says as you both nod, bracing your hands on the table in front of you and easing yourself to your feet.

“I’m y/n l/n. It’s nice to meet you all.” You say, briefly surveying the room yet somehow missing Tim’s presence entirely and his reaction to realising it was you. Tim watched you quietly, unable to believe that after all these years of no communication, he was finally seeing you again. All attention then landed on the other rookie who introduced himself as Larry Macer, excitedly explaining how Officer John Nolan had inspired him to join the LAPD despite his age but as he rambled on excitedly, his hand moved to his gun belt and accidentally set his gun off, sending the bullet through the window and narrowly missing an officer who was walking by. After the situation had been calmed, Sergeant Grey turned to you.

“Officer l/n, your training officer is Officer Bradford. Go and get acquainted. Officer Macer? My office. Everyone else is dismissed.” Grey says, glancing at you briefly before turning his attention to Larry, missing how your eyes widened before you looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with Tim who offers you the faintest of smiles and a nod before you turn back around, offering a sympathetic smile to Larry before joining the rest of the officers in getting up from your seat and making your way to where Tim was waiting for you by the door, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi.” You say softly, not knowing how else to start a conversation after so long.

“Hi,” Tim replies, regarding you with a soft look you haven’t seen in years. As you go to open your mouth to say something to you, he cut you off.

“You should go and get the war bags, I’ll meet you by the shop. We can talk later.” Tim says quietly, making you nod as you go to get the things you need before you start patrol. As you wait, you’re approached by a female officer who smiles and introduces herself as Lucy Chen.

“I see you have Tim as your training officer. If you need someone to talk to after your patrol with him I’ll happily talk with you. He used to be my training officer so I can understand the frustrations that come with training under him.” Lucy says, making your eyebrows furrow slightly, you weren’t ready to spill that you already knew and had worked with Tim in the past but Lucy was describing someone who didn’t sound like Tim at all. Sure Tim had been strict when he needed to be but you couldn’t imagine needing to rant to someone about it.

“Is he that bad?” You ask innocently as you wait to get your bags.

“He has this tendency to give his rookies these ‘Tim Tests’ and it basically forms his whole opinion of you. He doesn’t even give you a warning he just does them. He didn’t even let me drive for the longest time. If it feels like he’s getting too much you can always talk to me.” Lucy offers kindly after explaining what she had to endure.

“Well thank you, Lucy. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need someone to talk to.” You say with a smile as you take the bags handed to you, nodding at Lucy before you head over to where Tim is waiting for you.

“You ready?” Tim asks, arms folded across his chest as you nod, adjusting the bags on your shoulders. Tim then leads you out to where the shop is, explaining certain components as you take in the sight of the vehicle, listening to every word he says. Once Tim told you everything he told every rookie, he looked at you with a smile.

“You drive,” Tim says, tossing you the keys as you catch them quickly, a look of shock covering your face. After what Lucy had said you hadn’t expected Tim to allow you to drive already.

“Thank you.” You mumble softly, loading the bags into the trunk of the shop before making your way to the driver's seat, climbing into it and starting the engine while Tim climbs into the passenger seat. As you begin your patrol, you can sense Tim’s slight awkwardness but he was trying to act normal.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Tim asks quietly as you glance at him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Tim, I’m not sure this is the time to have this conversation.” You say, feeling bad that you’re cutting the conversation off before it can even start but you knew that you and Tim needed to sit down if you were going to have a conversation about how long it had been since you last spoke.

“You’re right. We can talk properly on our lunch break.” Tim agrees with a nod, realising that you were right and that he needs to focus on teaching you and not let his emotions get in the way.

“I have missed you.” You then say softly, smiling briefly as you look over at Tim who smiles back.

“I’ve missed you too.” Tim then says before focusing his attention on his surroundings. You continue to drive around until you hear a call come through on the radio regarding a report of loud noise coming from a house that had neighbours both suspicious and annoyed. You accepted the report since you were in the area and made your way to the house. As you pull up outside the house, Tim quickly questions you on the protocol of how to approach this situation and judging by Tim’s smile, you had got the answer right when you replied. With confidence that you know the protocol, Tim nods and gets out of the shop.

“I’ll take the lead on this one, just to get you used to these types of calls,” Tim says as you then get out of the vehicle. You join Tim by his side and follow him to where one of the neighbours has been waiting for your arrival.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly, officers. They’ve been so loud and it’s not only disturbing the neighbourhood but I’m concerned about what’s happening in there.” The lady says quickly, rambling as you pull out your notebook, beginning to make notes as she talks, making sure you get her name as well.

“Okay, we’ll check it out, ma’am. You can go back inside now.” You say with a polite smile, gesturing for the woman to head back into her own house so you don’t have to worry about her getting involved in any altercations if the reported neighbours turn violent. After the lady goes back inside, you and Tim approach the door, hearing faint shouts inside. You and Tim exchange a glance before Tim lifts his hand to knock on the door, silencing the yells as you both wait for the door to be opened. Soon enough, a burly man opens the door, arms folded across his chest as if he is trying to intimidate you and Tim with his muscles.

“Hello, I’m Officer Bradford, this is Officer l/n. We got reports of some loud noise and your neighbours had complained. Is everything okay?” Tim asks, introducing both himself and you before explaining why you’d turned up at his front door.

“Everything’s fine. Just watching a football game you know how it is right Officer?” The man says to Tim with a forced laugh. Tim nodded slightly, his eyes flicking over the man's shoulder as you both caught a glimpse of someone moving behind him.

“Is there anyone else in the house we can talk to?” You ask, acting as if you hadn’t noticed the movement behind him and focused back on him as he shakes his head.

“Just me.” The man says as you see more movement coming from behind him.

“I’m sorry. I keep seeing something moving behind you. Is there someone else?” You ask again and the man whips around to see who you are talking about before turning back to you with a faux smile.

“Oh, that’s no one.” He insists.

“Well, I’d like to ask them a couple of questions if that’s alright.” You say, glancing over his shoulder once more, missing how his expression shifted.

“It’s no one so you don’t need to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. You just stick to standing there looking pretty, sweetheart. That’s all you women officers are good for anyway.” At his words, you clenched your jaw, unable to believe what he just said to you.

“Alright, who’s in the house?” Tim asks, ready to step forward but before he can, the man lashes out, shoving you aggressively and sending you stumbling back, your hip slamming strongly onto the wooden bannister on the porch steps making you wince as a strong wave of pain shoots through your hip. Tim was quick to grab the man before he could make a run for it, quickly pinning him to the floor and pulling his hands behind his back, reading him his rights as he handcuffed him.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, looking up at you with worried eyes when he sees you holding your hip with a pained expression.

“No, I’m not. Get off me!” The man grumbles, attempting to wiggle out from under where Tim’s knee was digging into his back.

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you. y/n, are you alright?” Tim says, at first directed to the man squirming before returning his attention to you.

“I’m fine.” You reply, your words slightly forced as you straighten up, trying to hide a wince at the movement.

“Go and check the house while I load this asshole into the shop. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Tim says, getting up and hauling the man to his feet and leading him to the shop as you carefully pull your gun from your holster as the pain begins to fade.

“LAPD, is there anyone in here?” You call out as you enter the house, your hands steadying on your gun as you glance around the rooms, continuing to call out as you walk around.

“I’m coming out.” You hear a timid voice say and you wait as a woman exits one of the rooms you hadn’t checked yet. As she stepped closer you could see her bruising eye and the drying blood on her lips.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Come here so I can check you out.” You encourage gently, returning your gun to your holster and gently encouraging the woman over and leading her to the kitchen so you could wet some kitchen roll and gently wipe the blood away from her lip.

“Is Kevin-?” She starts tearily, choking on her words as you shush her gently.

“Hey, let’s not worry about him right now. What’s your name?” You ask quietly, changing the subject to try and calm her down.

“Diana.” She sniffles, a tear slipping down her cheek as you throw the bloodied paper towel in the nearest bin you can find.

“That’s a lovely name. I’m y/n.” You say gently introducing yourself to Diana with a soft smile.

“What’s going to happen?” Diana then asks fearfully, looking around as if Kevin was going to appear out of nowhere.

“I’m going to call for someone to come and help you and then my training officer and I are going to take Kevin to the station.” You explain carefully, watching as Diana wipes at her eyes, wincing as she rubs against the bruising. You take a second to step away from Diana, radioing for an ambulance and additional officers to head to the hospital with Diana to get statements and make sure she’s okay. You quickly get a response and you take Diana out to sit on the porch steps while you wait for the other officers and the ambulance to arrive. Soon enough, Lucy and another officer arrive, approaching when you wave them over. You get up from the porch steps, telling Diana to stay put while you get Lucy up to date.

“What’s happened? Is everything okay?” Lucy asks as you approach them.

“Tim and I got a report of yelling from this house and from the looks of things the man Tim’s loaded up into our shop had gotten physical with Diana. I’ve called for an ambulance just to get her checked over because I don’t know if she’s hit her head or anything and if it’s okay I’d feel better leaving her with some other officers to take any statements while Tim and I get that asshat back to the station.” You explain watching as both of them nod.

“You got it,” Lucy says, smiling softly as she glances over at Diana who is wiping her eyes.

“Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself yet. I’m Jackson West.” Jackson introduces himself quickly, shaking your hand as you smile, introducing yourself in return.

“How’s it been with Tim so far?” Lucy asks, her eyes flicking over to Tim who is leaning against the shop, arms folded as he watches the interaction carefully.

“It’s been fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” You say with a smile.

“Really?” Jackson asks incredulously, thinking back to when he had a patrol with Tim.

“y/n! Let’s go!” Your conversation is cut short by Tim calling out to you.

“I’m coming!” You reply, bidding a quick goodbye to Lucy and Jackson before crossing to where Tim is waiting for you. You approach Tim with a smile, your smile faltering when you see Tim’s concerned expression.

“I know I asked you earlier but are you okay? I saw you wincing after he pushed you.” Tim asks, concerned.

“I’m fine. It’s just where… well you know. We can talk about it later.” You say, nodding to assure Tim that you are okay.

“You good to drive?” Tim then asks.

“Yep.” You say as Tim nods, gesturing for you to get behind the wheel as he rounds the car to get in the passenger seat.

“Is he seriously letting her drive?” Lucy asks, looking over at Jackson to confirm they are seeing the same thing.

“Looks like it,” Jackson says, sparing a brief glance over at the shop before focusing his attention back on Diana.

“He never let me drive,” Lucy grumbles, watching as your shop pulls away and begins to drive off, leaving Lucy and Jackson to handle everything while you head back to the station.

It only takes you half an hour to get back to the station, but the whole time you had to put up with Kevin and his abundance of sexist comments he continually aimed at you. He was even undeterred by Tim’s threats to tape his mouth shut and by the time you reached the station, you were ready to be rid of him. Once you had processed him, you shoved him in the nearest cell.

“Aw come on sweetheart. You’re so uptight about nothing.” Kevin says, a cocky smirk on his face as you roll your eyes shutting the cell door on him and heading over to Tim.

“You handled that well,” Tim states, his smile small and supportive as you nod.

“It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with sexist assholes. You knew that though.” You say, receiving a nod as both you and Tim remember the ways some other soldiers had treated you.

“Look, let’s patrol a little more and then we can grab some lunch. Sound good?” Tim says, clearing his throat and gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so with a small smile. You follow Tim back out to your shop, both of you climbing into the vehicle and continuing your patrol. The patrol was relatively calm, you pulled over a few reckless drivers and stopped a car theft before it could even happen. By the time your lunch break rolled around your stomach was growling and desperate for food. You decided to head out to the food trucks near the station and you and Tim both ordered your food, as you reached to get your money, Tim quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for both meals.

“Tim, you didn’t need to do that!” You exclaim with a disbelieving laugh, slapping his arm as his jaw drops in mock shock.

“I wanted to.” He replies as he receives his change, putting it in his wallet before returning his wallet to his pocket.

“What a gentleman. Buying me lunch on my first shift.” You tease, finally finding the courage to slip back into the familiar dynamic you and Tim had shared back in your military days.

“What can I say?” Tim shrugs jokingly as you laugh.

“Oh, so he’s buying her lunch now?” Lucy complains, watching you and Tim from across the space.

“Lucy, it’s probably not that deep,” Jackson says, trying to reassure his best friend that she’s reading too much into everything.

“No, he let her drive. She’s not complained to me about a Tim Test. He bought her lunch. And, he’s smiling.” Lucy says, listing the various things she’s noticed from the morning alone.

“Okay, so what? Do you want Tim to go around traumatising every rookie he teaches? Maybe he was tough on you because he knew you could handle it.” Jackson says, stabbing his food with his fork as he offers a reason as to why Tim was acting differently.

“No, there’s something going on between them. I’m going to figure it out because Tim Bradford doesn’t smile and here he is acting like the total opposite of himself.” Lucy says, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair as she watches you and Tim collect your food and cross to a vacant table.

“So, what have you been doing since the Army?” Tim asks curiously, beginning to dig into his food as you shrug.

“I kinda jumped from job to job. Tried a couple of different office jobs for a while but you know me I can’t sit still for anything so I needed to get into a more active job and well here we are now.” You explain, thinking back to the various jobs you had before finding yourself a job in the police force.

“I am still so sorry about what happened back on that tour.” Tim apologises, his eyes portraying every ounce of guilt he was feeling.

“Tim, you have nothing to apologise for. It wasn’t your fault.” You say, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“I was your Sergeant. It was my job to look after you all. And out of everyone, I let you down the most.” Tim argues, watching as you shake your head, the conversation feeling all too familiar.

“You’re also the reason I’m still alive. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” You emphasise, getting a sudden burst of courage to reach across the table and squeeze Tim’s hand as both of you remember that day.

“How much longer did they say we’d be out here?” You ask, walking alongside Tim as your squadron patrols the perimeter outside the base you were currently living in.

“A couple more months? I don’t know we’re mostly playing it by ear right now.” Tim replies, his eyes flicking around as he surveys the area.

“Well, I suppose it’s not awful. It means I get to spend more time with you.” You say with a joking wink as Tim scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes at your comment.

“I suppose being stuck with you for a few more months isn’t the worst thing in the world.” Tim muses, cocking an eyebrow as you gasp with a smile, lightly slapping his shoulder.

“I’m a delight to be around and you know it.” You brag, looking at Tim as he lets out a soft sigh and shrugs lightly.

“You’re definitely not the worst of the bunch I’ll give you that.” Tim then says.

“You can admit it. I know I’m your favourite. Come on, I won’t tell the others. Promise.” You say, glancing around and noticing that none of the of the others were in earshot. But before Tim could even open his mouth to respond a gunshot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in your hip. You turned to Tim with a look of terror he had never seen from you before and soon enough another bullet hit your shoulder, sending you to the floor.

“Get down!” Tim yells out to his other soldiers, all of them diving behind cover as Tim pulls you behind cover with him, instantly analysing your wounds and bracing a hand over each wound, pressing down as you cry out in pain.

“I know. I’m sorry. We’ll get you out of here.” Tim says reassuringly, hearing more bullets flying and ducking down over you, shielding you from any potential harm. Tim then digs around in his various pockets and pouches and manages to find some gauze that he holds on each of your wounds, apologising again as you whimper.

“T-Tim…” You try, only to be gently shushed by Tim.

“Don’t try to talk. I got you, okay? I’ve got to make sure my favourite gets back alive, right?” Tim jokes weakly, laughing as tears begin to well in his eyes. You let out a weak chuckle of your own, instantly regretting your actions as you wince at the pain. Tim was vaguely aware of people yelling and more bullets firing but his sole focus was on getting you to safety. As the gunfire begins to quieten down, a vehicle pulls up alongside Tim and medical personnel leap out, loading you onto a stretcher as you groan in pain and as Tim goes to follow them, he’s stopped.

“Sergeant Bradford. We’ve got it from here, focus on the rest of your squadron.” They say, stopping Tim in his tracks as he’s brought back to the reality that the rest of his squadron was also there.

“Are you all okay?” Tim asks, crossing to everyone as they begin to make their way back to base, even more vigilant than they were earlier.

“All good, Sarge.”

“Can’t believe those assholes shot y/n.” Tim gets a variety of responses from his squadron as he ushers them back to the base, not wanting to risk the safety of his squadron any further. The moment, they all made it back to the base, Tim turned to his squadron.

“Okay guys, take some time to decompress. I’ll come and check in with you all when I can.” Tim says, getting nods from everyone as they disperse. Tim then turns and heads in the direction of the medical area on base.

“Is y/n l/n here?” Tim asks the first medic he finds, thankful that it was the medic both you and him were familiar with.

“Yes. I think they’ve just finishing up with treating her. She should recover well but we’re worried about the placement of one of the bullets. She may need to be flown back home.” Mark explains, folding his arms as he explains the situation.

“Shit.” Tim sighs, bowing his head in shame as the seriousness of the situation sinks in.

“I’ll go and check on her and if everything’s all sorted you can see her,” Mark says with a soft smile before heading back to check in on you. Tim waits awkwardly for a moment, anxiously beginning to pace as a way to try and control his anxieties as best he can. As he paced, Tim made the fatal mistake of looking down at his hands where his gloves were stained with your blood, a reminder of what had just transpired. He pulled them off in a hurry, shoving them as deep into his pockets as he could as if that would make them disappear. Just as Tim shoved his gloves away, Mark returned.

“You can go and check on her.” As soon as those words leave Mark’s mouth, Tim makes his way back to where you were lying on a bed, smiling weakly at him.

“Hey, Sarge.” You mumble, eyes half closed as you look at Tim.

“Oh, now I’m ‘Sarge’?” Tim says jokingly as he eases himself down into a nearby seat.

“Hey, I’ve been shot I think I can call you whatever I want.” You joke, laughing softly which makes you wince at the pain.

“Are you okay?” Tim then asks softly.

“Like I got shot.” You say, attempting another joke as Tim watches you with an unimpressed expression.

“Funny,” Tim replies dryly.

“Aw come on, I’m hilarious.” You say, attempting to bring a smile to Tim’s face.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Tim says seriously, making your smile falter.

“I am sorry. I should’ve paid more attention to what was going on around us.” You admit, your gaze flicking to the bed as Tim lets out a soft sigh, softening at your dejected expression.

“It’s not your fault. I’m the Sergeant it was my responsibility to watch out for all of you and I let you down.” Tim argues as you sigh.

“Tim…” You start, not knowing what else you could say to convince him that he wasn’t to blame for what happened.

“Have they said what’s happening with you?” Tim then asks, changing the subject slightly.

“They’re… they’re sending me back home. Apparently, the bullet that hit me first is pretty embedded in my hip and there’s not much they can do about it out here. They don’t think I’ll be able to come back.” You say, tears already beginning to well in your eyes.

“Like come back to active duty? I’ll be able to see you on base back home.” Tim asks, confused as to why you were so visibly upset.

“No, Tim.” You say quietly and that makes Tim realise what you meant.

“Oh…” He mumbles, his gaze flicking to the floor. He now understood that you meant that you had a high chance of getting medically discharged completely with your injury.

“I can come and visit you when I’m back stateside.” Tim offers, smiling lightly as you nod.

“I’d like that.” You say with a soft smile.

Despite that offer. You never saw Tim again. Until you joined Mid-Wilshire.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts of the past by Tim sighing lightly, shaking his head and withdrawing his hand from underneath yours, feeling unworthy of the affection you were showing him.

“I still feel awful. I said I’d come and see you once I came home and I never did.” Tim says, watching as you shrug.

“I didn’t exactly reach out either. I’m just as much to blame.” You say with a soft laugh, knowing that you could’ve easily reached out to Tim.

“But I said I’d visit you. You got discharged from the Army and I didn’t even try hard enough to contact you.” Tim insists.

“I didn’t exactly make myself easy to find.” You argue back, knowing that after you were fully discharged from the Army you practically hid away for the rest of your recovery, moping about the career you had lost.

“It seems like the world didn’t want us apart for too long though. It got me assigned here, didn’t it?” You then say, brightening as you think of the good that has come out of this.

“That is true,” Tim admits with a soft laugh, nodding in agreement. The two of you then spend the rest of your lunch break talking and catching up on the things you’d missed out on over the years you hadn’t seen each other. As you finish telling Tim about a story from your time at the academy, Tim checks his watch and notices the time.

“We should head back out on patrol. I’ll throw the trash out, you can wait by the shop.” Tim says, already beginning to pick up all the wrappers and packaging before you can even protest and even when you went to try and object, Tim gave you a look that shut you up before you could say a word.

“Alright.” You sigh, getting up from your chair and heading over to the parked vehicle while Tim heads over to the bin.

“Okay, Tim. What is up with you and y/n?” Lucy demands, approaching Tim and folding her arms as he raises an eyebrow.

“And what makes you think you have any right to demand that information from me?” Tim asks, an authoritarian tone slipping into his voice as he talks.

“I’m not a rookie anymore and I’m curious. You’re treating her so much better than you ever treated me.” Lucy states, watching Tim carefully.

“It’s none of your business.” Tim then says, rolling his eyes as Lucy sighs heavily.

“Please.” Lucy pleads, making Tim exhale strongly.

“Fine. I used to be y/n’s Sergeant in the Army. We haven’t seen each other in years and I know how she learns best so I’m going to teach her in a way that’ll be effective to her.” Tim says, frustrated that he’s being forced to explain himself but he knew it would get Lucy off his back and he knew that he could trust her to not spread it around. At least not too much.

“Oh…” Lucy starts.

“I taught you the way that I did because I knew it would be effective. I wasn’t an asshole for the sake of it.” Tim explains further, feeling bad that Lucy felt he was being harsh for the sake of it. He knew Lucy was a capable police officer so his harsh method had been because he knew she could do it.

“Right… I’m sorry for acting like that I was just expecting you to act the way I was used to and when you didn’t I guess it threw me off.” Lucy stammers, stumbling over her words as she apologises.

“It’s okay, Chen. Just don’t go blurting it around everywhere. I need to go back on patrol so I’m trusting you.” Tim says, forgiving Lucy for her outburst. After bidding each other a quick goodbye, Tim makes his way back over to where you were waiting by the shop and you go back out on patrol.

The rest of your patrol went relatively smoothly. You got called out for various calls and your confidence began to grow with each different call you worked on and by the end of your shift, you felt like you had a successful shift. As you got back to the station and exited the shop, you turned to Tim with a smile.

“How did I do?” You ask, looking at Tim and trying to gauge his reaction, reminding him of when he first became Sergeant and had spent time overseeing his squadron’s training and you had asked him how you’d done after practising some shooting.

“You did great,” Tim replied, exactly the same way he had done years ago when you had shown off your shooting ability.

“I can’t believe I’ve finished my first shift.” You mumble, unable to believe that your first shift was over. You had worked so hard since your injury to get into a good enough condition to be able to maintain working in such a demanding job like the LAPD and you had proved to yourself that you could do it.

After returning the war bags, you and Tim head into the locker room to get back into your civvies. When you leave, you bump into Tim once more as you head out to the car park.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim.” You whisper softly, smiling at him which he reciprocates. Tim’s eyebrows furrow for a moment in thought and before you could ask him what was wrong, he speaks up.

“Do you want a grab a drink with me? My treat.” Tim says in a moment of bravery, his question taking you aback for a moment before a smile breaks out across your face.

“How can I say no to you?” You reply, making Tim’s eyes widen before a large smile breaks out on his face.

“Great! Give me your number and I’ll text you where to meet me.” Tim says, and you nod, pulling out your phone and giving Tim your number. Once you have each other’s numbers you prepare to head your separate ways to get ready before heading to the bar.

“I’ll see you later, Tim.” You say before you begin to walk away, unable to contain the smile that remains on your face as you make your way back to your car.

Yes, it had been years since you last saw Tim Bradford. But he still owned your heart like he had never left. And you couldn’t be mad at him about it for a second.

Tim Tags (comment or ask to be added):

@callsigns-haze

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #the rookie #the rookie abc #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #the rookie imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x fem!reader

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