#do i burn a day of pto

[shina913]

Damn...I can’t believe I have one more day of work? After that??

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Sunday doodles

[angeltannis]

Finally feel recovered enough to attempt going to work…on my birthday 🥴

[wraenata]

Hey! BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.

Aw thank you so much! You are just the sweetest! This is so nice to receive today because I definitely don't feel beautiful right now.

Thank you again love you! /platonic <3

Hope you are having a lovely day! You deserve it!

[mizu-writes-kumo]

Me when I last posted a fic: I will finish the one I am working on in no time I am so excited to write it and I'll get up early to work on it and everything

Me currently: -has written a word-

[targaryenluvs]

BOOTS / TIM BRADFORD & LUCY CHEN

PAIRINGS: Dark!Tim Bradford & Dark!Lucy Chen x Fem!Rookie!Reader

SUMMARY: You never noticed just how dedicated your two best friends were to keeping you safe, and theirs.

WARNINGS: Overprotectiveness, fighting/violence jealousy, flirting, forced relationship, suggestive behaviour (makeouts, sub r, dom!Tim & soft dom!Lucy, fingering, handcuffs, p in v, threeway)

WORD COUNT: 5.2K Words

A/N: Dark!Chenford is a must have 🤭I had to turn to my roots for some smut cause who wouldn’t want to be in between these two?? I may have gotten carried away at 5k words 😭 (for the sake of this pretend pto’s can have two rookies) NOT PROOFREAD special order for my girl @lady-ashfade

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

They always had your back, which you found comfort in.

Whether it be standing up for you, or tearing in a new one to the woman who got your order wrong after you’d already given a smile and taken what was served. (It may or may not have been Tim yelling whilst Lucy fiddled with her nails.)

You were so close to them, since your day one on the job Lucy had been nothing but a sweetheart. Fixing your hair for you, ordering your food for you or just giving you a smile when your day was particularly gruelling. She, along with Nolan and West were your best friends. But Lucy went above and beyond when it came to you, even if you didn’t notice at times.

And Tim, was a special case. Of course at first all Rookies got the roughest side of him. But overtime Tim noticed the little things about you. And at first he figured it was you trying your hardest to kiss up to your T.O and everyone else. But he soon came to realise that you were naturally this nice. Always helping anyone where you could when they asked, even with out ask at times.

But that was the problem.

Tim found you to be in need of him, someone to properly guide you rather than your idiot of a T.O who couldn’t care less about you. You were nice, too nice for your own good. He could help in that department.

You entered the break room in the mood for about a million cups of coffee. As you reached for a cup another Rookie cut in front of you before grabbing the pot. You took a step back allowing him to fill his cup up, he was probably tired and lacking manners, so you let him continue. But if there was one person who wouldn’t?

“Hey, you cut in front of her. Pass your cup over to her and move to the back of the line.” Tim startled the Rookie in question so much that he spilled it all over himself. He’d been here for about two days in a trial week. Lucy had a feeling he wouldn’t be here much longer.

You, being you, jumped straight in to help the ass, “Here’s a napkin, you should go change. Maybe take a shower and see a doctor if there are any burns okay?” He nodded before rushing out the door, but not before shoving a cup into your hands.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened, you put the cup down, ready to reprimand the two but when you turned around you realised you couldn’t exactly reprimand two officers above you.

“Thanks for standing up for me but—,”

“No problem sweetheart, how’s your paperwork going?” Tim asked as he poured a cup for himself and his girlfriend. You always noticed him doing stuff like that for her so she didn’t have to, as if it was second nature for him. But he also did the same for you, not that you noticed. “Uhm… it’s going well.” You tried to continue on but the two of them interrupted you every time.

You sighed in defeat as you stirred in sugar, Tim and Lucy sat on either side of you, personal space be damned. You hadn’t realised how often Tim and Lucy used nicknames with you, or sat close to you, or defended you.

Was this normal?

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Lucy smiled at you as your cheeks flushed, “I— uhm,” You heard Tim’s laughter from your right, “You’ve got her blushing Chen.” Your head snapped his way before shaking your head, “No! It’s just, warm.” You fiddled with the cuff of your long sleeve as Tim and Lucy admired.

You were so adorable, always with a smile on your face. You could never handle it when they flirted with you, and they took every chance they could get to see you go red. They loved to do it, and they did it so often that you’d basically become accustomed to it. That didn’t mean it was easier to handle with two gorgeous people, especially when they’re older and in charge.

Tim loved talking to you. Just hearing your voice was enough to bring a rare smile to his face. When you were truly impassioned in a topic he could tell, so could she. You’d sit up straighter in your seat, your hand movements increased and so did your eye contact.

But with him and Lucy? You never could keep eye contact. Again, adorable aren’t you?

But what Lucy hated was when you were interrupted. It’d been a few minutes of you talking at them about a call of yours from the day before, in which your T.O had made you answer a call on your own whilst on the phone with his wife. You never noticed, but Lucy’s firsts curled up, and Tim’s hand rested on his gun.

The anger that surged through their bodies at your T.O’s irresponsible behaviour was unmatched. How dare he send someone so fragile on their own? Did he understand how special you were?

Tim’s hand moved from his gun to his radio as you continued. You’d ended up in an altercation with two armed suspects, but you’d managed to subdue them both by bursting a nearby pipe which then sprayed the pair. By the time you had both cuffed to a dumpster your T.O, Jim, waltzed in and smiled.

“And then he just, smiled. He told me he was surprised I could get the job done and that maybe I did deserve my short sleeves. It seemed so targeted and sexist. As if he couldn’t believe that a woman could handle herself. But he apologised later.” Tims brow rose as Lucy titled her head, “He apologised to you?”

Your head turned to Lucy as you crinkled your nose, “Well, not outright. But he did pay for our lunch and ordered me extra. He let me drive too. That’s his way of saying thanks.” Someone was going to have to hold Tim back from beating the life out of this dickhead.

First, he leaves you alone against two armed suspects to see what’s for dinner, then, after you did an amazing job on your own, he underestimates you.

With the worst timing in the world, in walks Jim, “Ah there you are boot. Finished the work have you? Good girl.” You and Lucy visibly cringed at his words as Tim had had enough, “The hell did you just call her?” Your T.O frowned as Tim stood in front of him menacingly, hand on his holster.

“None of your business, she’s my boot.” Jim turned back to his coffee as Tim inhaled, “Leave the room you two.” Jim scoffed as you both got up, “Yes, let the men speak huh?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she guided you out, she and Tim shared a moment and a look that screamed ‘Fuck him up.’ Jim smiled before reaching for the creamer, but it was snatched up by Tim.

“You think you’re funny? Being a sexist dick to your Rookie?” Tim prayed that Jim would try something, anything. As long as it allowed him to beat him into the floor. “Again Timmy, she’s my rookie. That’s the whole point of us Trainers, to toughen them up. You don’t question my methods and I won’t yours. Pretty little thing like that’s probably glided through here.” Tim grabbed him by the shoulder before pushing him against the wall.

“Testy are we? You and Chen have a thing for her?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And I’ll question whatever I want, when I want. And don’t talk about them like that.” The mention of you and Lucy was more than enough to set him off, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself.

Lucy ushered you into her Tim’s shop as you kept asking her questions, “Why am I in here?” Lucy sighed as she rested her hands on her belt, “I don’t exactly think you’ll be riding with him today. Best if you ride with us, I’ll go alert Grey to whats happening, just stay safe in here.” And just like that, she was leaving for the door.

“Messing with me is one thing, with her? Bad idea.” Tim shoved him against the wall again before whispering into his ear.

Tim, Lucy, you and Jim all stood in Grey’s office.

He stood with his hands on his belt, trying to process what he’d been told. “Sergeant, Officer Bradford attacked me in the break room when all I did was simply address my rookie.” Tim and Lucy’s faces simultaneously contorted in disgust at his accentuation on ‘my’.

“Save it Jim. I heard what actually happened through Officer Bradfords radio. Officer Bradford, you’re not yet excused for inciting violence with a fellow officer. Your overtime is cancelled for over a month, you’ll be having a reprimand as well as a month of anger management training courtesy of the department. The rest of your punishment will be applied later. Officer Chen, Officer L/N, you may both go.”

Lucy and you smiled and acknowledged him before glancing at Tim, ‘I’ll be fine.’ he mouthed at the two of you. The door closed behind you as you looked back into the office to see Greys hands waving around. He was pissed and so was Tim. He had to stand next to this guy.

“Hey are you okay Y/n/n?” The two of you were currently filling out paperwork together to kill time whilst you waited for Tim, you glanced back up at her with a smile, “Yeah I’m fine, just glad Bradford stood up for me. But I feel bad now, he’s in there with Grey whilst I’m here.” Lucy’s hand covered yours as she offered her comfort.

“Baby none of this is your fault, Jim is a moron and stuck in the 70’s. You’re an amazing cop and you’ll be even better as the years pass and you learn. But you’ll learn a lot more from another T.O than him. And T— Officer Bradford,” she corrected herself, “He stuck up for you because you don’t deserve to be disrespected like that. No one will ever say those things, we promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, never having someone who cared about you so much that they’d hurt someone else.

Hypothetically of course. Right?

Tim came back grumpy, which wasn’t a new thing. But he couldn’t help but feel something at the view he has. You and Lucy, shoulder to shoulder, giggling away. At his desk nonetheless. You really were meant for them.

“Alright, you’re sticking with us for the next few weeks L/N. Until you’re reassigned to a new T.O.” Tim stood in front of you as you glanced to him, “What’s happening to Jim?” Tim scoffed as he turned to the side before shaking his head and staring at his shoes, “What he deserves. He’s out of here, don’t worry about him. Not while we’re here.” Lucy nodded in agreement as she picked up your paperwork and hers, “We’re done here.”

“Good, get to our gear, boots.”

And for the next few weeks you found yourself closer to Lucy and Tim than ever. In the physical sense being you and them in the same car for every shift. In the mental and emotional sense of having more time together, on calls together, eating together at times and clocking out together. Usually to go to one of their apartments to wind down and have dinner. So close to them to the point where you found yourself in the middle of them.

The tension was thick, whenever you three were alone.

Lucy and Tim were undeniably hot, and you knew that. And so did they. The two of them were absolute menaces when it came to teasing you. Whether it be Tim or Lucy, both or alone. They wanted you all for themselves, and they will have you.

You prided yourself on making a mean cup of coffee.

Before joining the force, coffee was a once in a whole situation but since? It’s your saving grace and addiction. Your body would probably stop functioning without. Another thing you couldn’t survive without would be music. It’s why you stood in the breakroom with your airpods in.

“Boo.” You jumped at the whisper in your ear only to bump right into your new T.O. “Tim!” You jolted as he laughed at your reaction, “You should be more aware of your surroundings L/N.” Taking a napkin you quickly cleaned the mess on the table before putting a lid on your coffee. “Sorry Sir, I’ll pay more attention.”

His lips involuntarily twitched at the notion of you calling him ‘sir’. It was usually Officer Bradford or when you were pissed off, Bradford. Not much of a change but for you it was the equivalent of flipping him the bird. Tim found it cute.

“You’re good.” He spoke before leaning behind you to grab a cup of his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his broad chest pressed against your back. As he poured his cup, he glanced at you, “You okay there Boot?” Your eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at him. “Fine, I’ll be in the— somewhere.”

He leaned against the table as you shuffled out of the room as quick as possible. God you were cute.

Lucy leaned against the doorway with a smile, “You’re gonna have her malfunctioning at this point Bradford.” Tim grinned as she approached him, taking a sip of his coffee, “Then maybe we can fix her Chen.” He whispered before taking a sip of his own.

“And how would we do that?”

“Might need to lay her down, undress—,”

“Tim!” Lucy yelped as she covered his mouth as a muffled “What?” came out. “You can’t stay stuff like that here!” He rolled his eyes before peeling the palm of her hand away from his mouth. “Did you not talk for about twenty minutes about how badly you wanted to kiss—,” For the second time Lucy shut him up.

“Shh!”

It had been a long shift for all three of you.

You’d barely gotten time to catch your breath with how many calls were coming through. There was a concert on in town and apparently that resulted in all hell breaking loose. Merch trucks had been highjacked, fake tickets and scams everywhere resulting in fights.

Tim didn’t personally understand the reason for all the chaos, “It’s like your favourite team coming to play in L.A and there are also a bunch of fake fans wanting to go. Along with scammers waiting to make money. People go crazy over the things they love Tim.”

He knew that, he had you.

“Yeah but actual sports? That I understand. Some singer who’s going to walk around a stage? Boring.” You and Lucy rolled your eyes as you gave up on explaining it to him. You were currently out at dinner for once, suggested by Lucy.

“I like it better when we stay home.” Tim muttered as he surveyed the restaurants terrace. There were currently three other couples surrounding them. “Me too honestly.” Lucy was surprised by your agreement as Tim was overjoyed, “See? Two against one.” Lucy shrugged before returning to the drinks menu, “We need to get out once in a while.”

We. Not you and I, we. It was those word choices that made you wonder, did they consider you apart of their relationship?

Lucy’s hand rested over Tim’s as the waiter approached, “My names Jack and I’ll be serving you tonight. What will you be having miss?” He waited for you whilst you sorted through the menu, “I’m going to go very simple, can I get the chicken fettuccine and garlic bread?”

He quickly jotted your order down with a smile, “Great choice.” You smiled at the praise, “Thanks Jack.” His smile was wide and sweet as his gaze lingered, a sharp cough caused the two of you to break away.

Tim’s hold on the menu was tight, shaping crescent indents into the leather exterior as he watched the waiter, Jake was it? Who cares, he should stop eyeing you up and do his job. But why were you responding to him? Keeping eye contact and laughing.

His cough caused you to finally stop ogling him as Tim barked his order at him, whilst Lucy hid her laugh behind the menu. She hated how this random guy thought he could come up to her girl and charm her. Maybe if she showed her gun off he would—

“And drinks?” Tim scanned over the variety of wines as you got up, “I’m going to head to the restroom.” Tim and Lucy nodded as you placed your purse on the table, “Uhh, where is it?” Jack smiled, “I’ll take you there.” He tucked the menus under his arm, “Lead the way!”

Lucy’s hold on Tim’s hand was deadly as the two of them stared daggers into Jacks head. Who did this guy think he was? “Why the hell is she still taking to him? What happened to the restroom?” Lucy complained as Tim straightened in his chair. “I don’t know, but we have to let her know it’s not allowed.”

And that came in the form of coming back to the table to find your food packaged for take away.

You crossed your arms as you stopped in front of your chair, “First of all, I love those bathrooms. Second, how the hell is the food here so quickly? And third, why is it for takeaway?” Tim abruptly stood as his chair slid back, bumping into the railing, his hand in Lucy’s whilst she grabbed the bag.

“We’re leaving, now.” His voice was stern and Lucy’s face seemed to be void of the smile from moments ago. “Wait what?” Tim’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you into the elevator.

“Why are we leaving? Also, I can walk myself, no offence.” His grip on you only tightened as you winced, you quickly contracted your wrist from his hand. Soothing it by running your hands over it, the pain was low but the mark sure as hell would show soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eyebrows furrowed slightly, you pulled your lips into a line, “Nothing Lucy. What’re you two doing? Are you okay?”

“Do you find it fun? Flirting in front of us?” Tim sounded genuinely angry, which was never a good sign. The elevator opened as you followed the two of them, eventually ending up with one behind and in front. Tim silently opened the back door for you, climbing in to turn towards him you were met with a slamming door.

Flirting? They were angry because you flirted? Do they expect you to never talk to anyone that wasn’t them? Yes the waiter was cute, but you only talked him about the Marvel Captain America necklace he had on. If they were angry, then did this mean you were in a relationship?

You turned to view the two of them behind the car, they were plotting intently. As Tim’s hands drew her closer in, and his lips landed on hers you couldn’t help but watch and have no idea who you wanted to be in the scenario. When Tim’s eyes flicked up, you turned to the front of the car. This was going to be an awkward ride home.

You were right, the ride home was dead silent.

Tim’s hand was interlaced with Lucy’s, right infront of you and you couldn’t help but feel as if they were rubbing their relationship in your face. So instead of sitting in the middle as per usual, you shifted over to the window. At least the night was nice.

Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she noticed your jealousy. Tim was right, this showed just how much you wanted to be with them. When they kissed you couldn’t look away until looked at, and their holding hands pissed you off to the point where you switched seats. When you were with them, you were always in the middle.

When you reached Tim’s place you were the first to get out of the car, not bothering to wait for the couple. “You think we went too far?” Lucy asked Tim, as much as she loved riling you up, she felt sad by your annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold you.

Tim on the other hand, was pissed off beyond relief. He had to refrain from beating the shit out of the waiter and kissing you at the restaurant. But he figured, your first time should be special.

“No, we haven’t. She needs to learn.”

As you entered his apartment you couldn’t deny the fact that it did indeed feel like home. You shook your heels off in the doorway, as Lucy and Tim removed their shoes. They’d told you to dress nicely but they were both dressed normally. You being in a dress felt out of place when they weren’t done up like you were for the night.

Tim’s bed was practically calling your name, “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was stern and unwavering. You internally groaned, what the hell had you done wrong? “To bed, what else Tim?” You rolled your eyes, bad idea.

He pushed you against the wall, towering over you. “You think you’re funny?” He was overwhelming, his cologne lingered and Lucy watched on amused. Was she rubbing her legs—

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Answer the question.” His hands were placed on either side of your head, “No, I don’t think I’m funny. I’m sorry.” Tim narrowed his eyes as you squirmed under his gaze, “Sorry for what baby?” You stared down at your feet before he grabbed your chin, “For flirting.”

“So you know what you did wrong?” You nodded meekly at Lucy’s question. “You know, a Rookie has to be taught lessons right?” You nodded again, “And whose Rookie are you?” The bottom of your dress was smooth between your fingertips as you nervously fidgeted.

“Yours.”

“I’m sorry but you have to be taught baby.” His hand slowly moved up your thigh, and under your dress. Tim never looked away from you, even as his hand grazed over your panties. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped past the elastic band, “Tim!” You moaned out as you held onto his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? Use your words baby.” Lucy spoke as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. She moved your hair away, allowing herself free roam of your neck as she surged forwards. “Please.”

“Let’s take you to the bed huh?” You nodded vehemently at Tim’s suggestion as he picked you up bridal style. He laid you down on the bed as you shuffled back. Tim and Lucy stood side by side, the grins never leaving their faces. “What do you think Lucy? How’d you feel when Y/n was talking to Jack?”

At the mention of his name your heart began to race, you were nervous, why were they talking about him?

“Angry, and jealous. You?”

Tim nodded, “I did too. I think we should teach you a lesson. And if you’re good then, maybe, we’ll let you go.” You swallowed air before nodding. “Words baby.” Lucy’s voice was soft as she came to sit behind you, laying your head in her lap. “Y-yes.”

“If you feel uncomfortable then say so.” She whispered into your ear as you nodded. “You’re so cute, you know that right?” You shook your head, “No, you’re just being sweet.” Lucy frowned at your low confidence, “You are. Okay? Never let anyone tell you any different. You’re so gorgeous, and kind and sweet. I love you.” Lucy smiled as your wide eyes looked up at her, full of love.

“I— I love you too.” She closed the distance between the two of you quickly, you’d been wanting to kiss her for so long. Her hands trailed along the neckline of your dress, cold hands brushing over your chest as you gasped, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

“Having fun without me?” Tim joked as Lucy withdrew, “Maybe, why? Jealous?” She teased as he shook his head, “That’s her job.” Tim alluded to you as you rolled your eyes, “Is not.” Lucy chuckled at your words.

“Keep rolling your eyes and I’ll give you a reason to.” Tim’s hands were on your thighs again, following the same route as last time and ending up in the same place. You turned your head, trying to bury your face into Lucy’s thighs as Tim removed your underwear. He trailed his hand up and down, collecting your slick.

“So wet, you know how long we’ve wanted to see this?” Tim’s lips met yours as he pushed a finger in, causing you to groan. “There we go, let it out for me.” You wrapped your arms around Tim’s neck, trying to pull him closer. Lucy’s hands slowly removed her own top, then her jeans.

You tugged at Tim’s shirt as he laughed, “Want me to take it off?” Your eager nod was more than enough for him to slide his finger out of you, but not before Lucy took it into her mouth.

You were going to explode. Lucy stared into Tim’s eyes as she detatached from his finger with a ‘pop’. Lucy worked on his belt buckle as Tim removed his shirt before chucking it behind him. “Take your dress off.” You did not need to be told twice.

As you lifted your dress you were met with helping hands, their eyes raked over you eagerly. Tim leaned in again, and as you closed your eyes you heard something.

Click!

Fucking handcuffs. “Wait— are you kidding me?” You tugged at the handcuffs as Tim spoke, “You didn’t think we forgot did you?” You rolled your eyes, “I was being good.” You muttered. Tim was not a fan.

He smushed your face in his hands, “You’re being a brat, now sit and watch.” Tim kissed Lucy’s neck as she raked her hands through his hair, “Oh god.” He made his way down to her chest as she laid down onto the bed. Tim unhooked her bra as he took one of her tits into his mouth. You wanted nothing more than to touch.

But you were forced to sit and listen.

Even as he pounded into her and you writhed against the cuffs. “You feel so good.” Tim groaned, his fingertips were digging into her hips as she clutched onto the sheets. “Fuck Lucy.” He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to moan out.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together for the smallest ounce of relief. But Tim never made it easy for you. He slid out of her pussy, as she whined, “So close.” Tim stroked her cheek, “I know baby, I know.” He lifted her up easily with one arm, making her face you before laying her down. “Y/n’s gonna watch.” Lucy lifted her back from the bed as she felt herself peak.

“F-fuck Tim!” She shouted as Tim fastened his pace, “You feel so good.” He groaned before releasing into her. He slowly pulled out, letting Lucy catch her breath as she laid down on the pillows. “You okay?” He muttered as he kissed her cheek, she nodded. “Wanna see you and her.”

Your eyes glistened with excitement, “Please, take the cuffs off.” Tim was feeling nice, so he reached for the key and unlocked you. You first soothed your wrist before Tim dragged you by your ankles.

“Open your legs.” You slowly opened them for him. His hands immediately found your waist, mimicking circles along them. He never strayed too close, only trailing up and down, “Please Tim.”You wanted to cry. “Please what?” He responded calmly.

Tim loved seeing you like this, a whiny mess for him. The tears welled up in your eyes as you clenched them shut, allowing a few to fall down. “Use your words sweetie, just like I taught you.” You shook your head in embarrassment, you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt, dirty. His calm demeanour was gone in an instant as his finger slipped back into you, “Please touch me.”

Lucy couldn’t help to admire you, they finally had you.

“There we go.” He praised as he moved swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, you feel good?” Your high pitched moan was more than enough of an indication, “S-so good Tim.” As if his fingers weren’t enough, he pumped his cock a few times before teasing your hole.

You arched off the bed as soon as he pushed himself in, fat tip bullying its way into you whilst your nails dug into Lucy’s arm, “I got you baby.” She spoke as her hand came up to your breast, teasing it before bringing it into her mouth. “Oh fuck!” You screeched as you felt her tongue drag along your nipple.

Tim eased himself out, and back in as his hand trailed up to your neck, squeezing it as your hand held onto his wrist, “You like that huh?” You nodded in agreement, tears were flowing freely from the overstimulation. This was literally straight out of dream. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, feels good baby. You feel so good.” Lucy captured your lips as you groaned into her mouth.

The pressure was so intense, you kept writhing on the bed. “I-I’m so close Tim.” He took it as a personal mission to make you cum, grabbing one of your legs and angling it up, his hand in the crevice behind your leg. With the new angle he was able to meet new parts, your babbles were incoherent as he laughed, “Fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” He taunted you as he thrusted his cock in between your drenched folds.

Lucy’s hand trailed down, a sticky mess waiting in between her legs, seeing Tim manhandle you was more than enough. “Bet you dreamed of this, of me.” Tim continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls.“Yes! Yes! Harder!” you cried out.

“Baby found her words huh?”

You nodded as you steadied yourself by holding onto his biceps, Tim was nothing but fit. You’d always wanted to see him under the uniform, his large arms always looked incredible in short sleeves. Tim’s hand moved from your neck to your clit as he sent you over the edge, following closely. Your hand reached up to caress his neck. Thank yous spilled out from you.

You laid in the middle of Tim and Lucy, fast asleep as they watched on.

“She’s so sweet and peaceful when she’s sleeping.” Lucy cooed as she stroked your cheek lovingly, “She tired herself out, of course she’s gonna sleep well afterwards.” Tim’s hand was on your hip under the sheets, caressing the soft skin absentmindedly. “She did so well.”

“She did, knew she could take it.”

“So what are we?” Lucy waited for Tim’s response.

“Whatever we want to be.”

[courtforshort15]

Fever Dream

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN Reader

Word Count: 3,100

Summary: You feel like utter death. Good thing you have a boyfriend whose mother-hen tendencies mean he’s the best at taking care of you.

Trigger warnings: None. Just my self-indulgent imagination of Matt taking care of me while I’m sick.

Masterlist

The sneeze you let out at seven in the morning is almost embarrassingly loud.

It wracks your entire body, the force of it causing you to jerk in your bed, and you barely have time to cover your nose with a tissue. Cringing, you blow your nose before tossing the tissue into the trashcan you’ve moved next to your bed, no longer having the energy to get up and walk each individual one over. 

The feeling of sick came on so unexpectedly and savagely that you didn’t have time to make a grocery trip to grab any medicine, and you were currently stuck using almost-expired Benadryl for the congestion and a nearly empty bottle of ibuprofen for your headache and sore throat. 

Seriously, you were mostly fine last night. Maybe a little stuffy, but nothing close to this. 

With a loud groan, you call your boss on her cell phone to let her know that you won’t be in today, and the raspy tone in your voice paired with the sound of a stuffy nose was enough for her to tell you to take the rest of the week off. 

“No, really, please don’t come in,” she tells you, and you can practically feel the way she’s shuddering on the other side of the line. You’ve worked with her long enough to know she’s a major germaphobe, and she’d rather miss a soft deadline by a day or two than have you anywhere near her. You’re not above using that to your advantage, and have done so in the past, especially in instances when you need an excuse to stay with Matt when he’s recovering from a night that’s rougher than usual. 

“I am willing to bribe you to make sure you stay home. I will send you all the soup you need if you just stay away.”

“You got it boss lady,” you somehow manage to croak out, cringing at both the pain and the way you sound. “I’ll see you Monday.” With a sigh, you hang up with her, grateful for a large balance of PTO, and fully planning on taking her up on the soup once you have an appetite. She’ll splurge on good stuff, too.

Matt is next. Instead of calling him, you send him a quick text, knowing he’s likely already at the courthouse for the morning, and you’re unwilling to interrupt him at work. He’s less likely to check a message than take a phone call, for obvious reasons, so it's easier to escape the laser focus of his concern for just a few extra hours. Typing out the message, you let him know you’re not feeling well and unable to meet him for lunch, as you usually do on Wednesdays. Knowing him, he’ll call you the second he’s on recess, and will likely end up swinging by this evening anyway.

With a loud exhale that causes your throat to burn and offers an abrupt coughing fit, you lay back down against the pillows, and pass out.

---------

You wake up to the sound of someone pounding on your door, and it startles you enough that you nearly roll out of bed. 

It takes you a few moments to get your bearings, grimacing at the way your body feels worse than when you’d fallen asleep, and you mentally curse the person interrupting your rest. It’s probably your obnoxious landlord who finds random excuses to check-in on you, much to your annoyance and Matt’s suspicion, but the man is harmless, guilty of nothing other than using far too much cologne to cover up the stale smell of body odor and of cigarettes. 

You’d roll your eyes if the idea of the simple motion didn’t sound so painful. 

If you weren’t already certain about having been knocked on your ass by the flu, specifically, there’s no doubt in your mind now. A throbbing headache. A throat that feels like it was being torn apart with glass. Congestion. It was all there, and all you want to do is pass out until you feel better.

The pounding on the door continues, combined with an extremely muffled voice, and deciding your body is too sore and too sick to get up, you roll back over in bed, burying your face under a pillow to drown out the noise. Another coughing fit hits you unexpectedly, and your body spasms with the force of your lungs revolting against you. When you’re done, you vaguely pick up on the silence when the pounding abruptly stops, and you sigh, grateful for the quiet once more.

Neil has given up, it seems, but you’re still bitter that your sleep has been interrupted, and the idea of sending the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to rattle his fire escape at 1am has never felt so appealing.

You’re just about to drift off into sleep again when, not even five minutes later, the sound of your window being opened from the outside shatters the blessed silence once more.

…oh. 

Guess that answers the question of who had been pounding on your door. You mentally apologize to Neil.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is quiet as he steps into your room, and you don’t need eyes to know the way he’s probably wrinkling his nose at the smell of sickness that’s wafting inside the cramped space. His sense of smell is so sensitive, and you definitely don’t envy him for it. You can only imagine how your sweat-damp skin smells, or the mouth that had only experienced half of the recommended amount of teeth brushing this morning, too weak to remain standing for long.

Nose wrinkling, you cringe on his behalf.

You feel him settle on the edge of your bed behind you, hand immediately reaching out to rub your back, and your body can’t help but instinctively arch into his touch, despite the fact that you feel like death. He trails his fingers up to the back of your neck, the touch soothing and offering comfort in a way only he can. His skin on yours is the most natural feeling in the world. 

“Not feeling well, sweetheart?”

You shake your head miserably, a full body shiver shaking you all the way down to your toes, before coughing into your pillow, too sick to bother covering your mouth and trusting the pillowcase to stop the spray.

Gross.

Matt’s hand gently pulls you over with a light hand on your shoulder until you’re laying on your back, and he makes sure to adjust the blankets around you so that no warmth seeps out from underneath the covers. Your eyes remain tightly shut, unwilling to subject yourself to the bright light of your bedroom. Your head is pounding, borderline migraine material, and even the thought of sunshine makes it throb. “Just a cold?”

Shaking your head again, you open your mouth to answer. “I think it’s the flu.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your throat too sore to get much else out. He makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. If there’s anyone who understands the feeling of your entire body being sore and in pain, it’s him.

The man, even while he runs himself ragged, hardly ever gets sick. He averages four hours of sleep a night, ends his evenings with grazes and cuts that are likely full of all the various types of bacteria known to man, drinks way less water than he should, and he still remains relatively healthy.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though, you think wryly. He’d either be the worst case of man-flu you’ve ever seen, or he would end up in a ditch somewhere, out patrolling while delirious with a fever. Your man is a hot mess on a good day, and you can’t imagine adding sickness to the foray.

You feel him lay his hand softly on your forehead, and you shudder at how cold it feels in comparison to your warm skin. Your fever must have returned with a vengeance, and you acknowledge it with a barely restrained groan. 

“You feel pretty warm,” he tells you, his voice quiet and one of concern. You appreciate that he’s using a gentle tone that is kind on your ears, not wanting to add anything loud and overwhelming less it makes the headache worse. “Have you taken anything?”

“Ibuprofen when I woke up.” Finally opening your eyes, you blearily watch as he frowns, red lips tilted down at the corners. His hand is still on your forehead, but he moves it to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“When did you wake up?”

“Seven, I think.”

He sighs, moving his hand so that it rests on your cheek. “Sweetheart, that was almost six hours ago. Have you been asleep this whole time?”

“I think so,” you whisper, watching as he shrugs his suit jacket off. He tosses it on the chair that’s in the corner of the room, face still tilted towards yours. You always seem to be his sole focus when he’s around you, and it never fails to make your heart stutter. “I fell asleep after I texted you.”

Matt leans over to place his glasses on your bedside table before he returns back to you, his face one of confusion, and his eyes looking more hazel than normal in the sunlight as they roam blindly over your form. “You didn’t text me.”

Your own eyes briefly flutter close again, even as hard as you try to keep them open. You reach up and pull his hand away from your face so that you can lace your fingers with his. His hand squeezes yours gently. “Yeah I did. I told you I wasn’t going to make lunch today.”

“I didn’t get a text from you,” he reiterates with a calm shake of his head. “I’ve been calling you for the past hour when you didn’t show up.”

“But I–” Eyes opening again, you move to sit up, but he pushes you gently back down. Your neck and shoulders immediately relax back into your pillow with a sigh. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Matt grabs your phone from where it had apparently been resting by your knee and places it into your outstretched hand without a word. His hand goes back to your cheek so that can resume rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone, and it takes great effort to not fall back to sleep and close your eyes again. Fingers weak with sickness, you press in your fingerprint to unlock your phone, noticing immediately the several calls, texts and voicemails, most of them from him but a few from Karen, too. You grimace at the obvious display of his concern, knowing the level of anxiety that had likely popped up when you didn't answer any of the calls.

No wonder he had been pounding on your door. 

You open up your chat with him, wincing when you see what had happened. “I never hit send,” you tell him with a whisper, throat still rebelling against the words forcing themselves out of your throat. “I’m sorry, Matt. I really did mean to text you. I was pretty out of it.”

He leans down and presses a kiss into your forehead. His stubble briefly rasps against your skin, and you can’t help but want to lean into it, even while the texture feels scratchy on skin that seems to be more sensitive than usual. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You snort softly, unable to help yourself. “If you call feeling like I’m dying okay, then sure. I’m okay.”

Matt makes another sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, hand still softly rubbing your cheek. You shift in your bed, trying to burrow yourself further into the covers. He pulls the blankets tighter around you, helping them settle up around your neck. “I’m going to grab Tylenol to help bring your fever down.”

You cringe, and Matt’s brow furrows, indicating he’s caught onto the brief twitch of your face. “I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any Tylenol?”

You cough again, this time covering your mouth to avoid coughing in his face. He doesn’t shift away from you as you do, just continues to keep his face near yours so that you don’t have to strain your voice to speak to him. “No,” you manage to rasp out when you’re done. “I’m out.”

He groans suddenly. “I depleted your stash last week, didn’t I?”

The same memory that had apparently hit him hits you a second later, the image of him holding a bloody rag to his shoulder that had taken a heavy hit flitting through your head briefly. You’d given him the last two tablets in the bottle as his lips twisted into a wry grin, promising to buy you a new bottle. You’d asked him to promise to avoid getting hit so frequently instead, the grin on your face just as dry and fond.  “I– yeah, I think so.”

“I’m sorry, love. I meant to grab more for you.”

You twist your head to cover another cough. “It’s fine, I forgot about grabbing some, too.”

“Do you have Ibuprofen?” he asks as he runs a hand through his hair, still looking somewhat frustrated at himself as he shifts slightly on your bed.

“Not much, but yeah,” you say with a wince. “That bottle’s almost empty, too.”

“How about any cold medicine? Decongestants? Something for your cough?”

“No,” you reply with another grimace. To his credit, he doesn’t twist his face into the disbelief he’s surely feeling, both at himself and at you. His eye twitches, though.

“How are you out of that, too?”

“Judgmental, much?” you ask with a grin that’s far too humorous for the situation and the way everything seems to hurt, including the muscles in your face. “I wasn’t exactly planning to get this sick.”

“You should have–”

“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Matthew.”

He sighs, hand darting up to run a quick hand down his face, attempting to hide a smile that relays a level of exasperation. “What do you have, then?”

“Just Benadryl…that’s almost expired.”

Matt lets loose another loud exhale and slowly lifts his head to face the ceiling as if sarcastically thanking the universe for letting him fall for someone who seems to be so bad at taking care of themselves. You’d laugh if it wouldn’t lead to a loud coughing fit. 

Pot. Kettle.

“Okay, I’m going to call Karen to see if she can bring some stuff by.”

“I don't–”

He's shaking his head before you even finish your objection. “Sweetheart, you’re so congested you can’t breathe out of your nose, and you've got a 101 degree fever. You need to take something," he tells you, and you know there’s no arguing against this man once he’s set his mind to something.

“How would you know my fever is that high?” Matt gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “Okay, stupid question.”

“Just close your eyes,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “I’m going to bring you a glass of water and some Ibuprofen, and call Karen to see if she can bring anything over.”

You nod miserably, energy suddenly draining and turning you back into a whimpering mess. He leaves the room, kicking his shoes off in the process, and you pick up your phone again once he’s out of sight, a wince twitching on your face at the notification of thirty emails that have popped up in your inbox. You open the app, scrolling down through the messages with a sigh.

“You better not be checking your email right now,” Matt’s voice calls out to you from the kitchen suddenly, and you almost drop your phone onto your face in surprise.

He knows you too well.

“I’m not,” you say as loudly as you can, which is still minimal, but you know he can hear you regardless, so you’re not too concerned. You roll over to place your phone back onto your bedside table with a loud sigh, wrist and arm feeling entirely too weak as it reaches out.

“Liar," is all he responds with, before his voice quiets down again. There’s a brief moment of silence before you pick up on the soft murmur of his voice, no doubt on the phone with Karen. The sound of your cabinet being opened and the faucet being turned on hits your ears, and you sigh at the domesticity of it all. Things of yours have been slowly migrating to his apartment in preparation of the move that’s happening in a month’s time, but there’s just something about him knowing your apartment like the back of his hand and feeling comfortable in a space that’s been solely yours for the past two years.

A few minutes later, he’s walking back into your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand, your dwindling bottle of painkillers in the other, mouth turned up in a soft, soothing smile. He helps you sit up, his arm gently snaking around your shoulders to support you, and encourages you to drink the water and toss back the pills as lips ghost across your forehead.

Even swallowing something cold makes your throat burn on the way down, and you groan in pain. 

He helps you lay back down, easing you backwards and holding your weight so that you don’t just flop back onto the pillows. He pulls his arm out from underneath you and reaches out to set the glass onto your night table as he moves to stand up. You close your eyes again against the light of your room, and you hear the subtle sound of a belt being unbuckled and fabric hitting the chair in the corner. 

Matt lifts up the covers and slides in beside you, his bare skin pressing up against yours as he nudges you onto your side so that he can cradle you from behind. Despite the brief chill, he quickly becomes a furnace pressed against you, and you can’t help the quiet moan that sneaks past chapped lips at the heat you hadn’t known you’d been needing.

“You’ll get sick,” you protest weakly as you settle into his chest, almost immediately soothed by the feeling of his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispers into your ear before leaning over you to kiss your cheek, settling back down behind you when he’s done, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. “Just go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Despite the sickness ravaging your body, or maybe because of it, you slip back into an easy sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest behind you settling you the way it always does. Your head is pounding, your whole body aches, and you can’t breathe through your nose, but everything feels better when he’s holding you.

[frownyalfred]

Most recent asks have me wondering if Clark still has his job at the Daily Planet. Did he apply for extended leave/use up his PTO/etc? Or did he just subtly quit his job to take care of Bruce?

And when do they go public, will Lois demand (jokingly/not jokingly) Clark owes her an exclusive interview? I'm just trying to picture how his coworkers at the Daily Planet would react to finding out that meek reporter Clark Kent somehow managed to not only get Bruce's attention, but also enter a serious relationship with him and father his pups.

I'm mostly just picturing chaos tbh XD

Clark’s been burning through his sick leave, showing up to work several odd, flaky hours, and just disappearing for days on end (Lois covers for him, but barely).

I like to think, just like in BVS, it’s clear that Clark’s coworkers (Perry, etc) know something’s up. They were expecting a big (Superman shaped) revelation, but not….this?

Imagine Perry yelling at Lois because he thought he was subtly helping her help Clark be Superman but Clark was just shacking up and playing house. He would pop a couple veins in his eyes for sure.

And yes, Lois salvages it all by getting Clark to agree to an exclusive, which mollifies Perry. Somewhat.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Ok I think one thing we need to start asking ourselves before we start talking about politics is "is this pragmatic or dogmatic?" Pragmatic things are achievable goals that will bring about some sort of tangible change. Dogmatic is demanding people behave a certain way or they're a bad person who needs to be condemned, or doing some big thing that won't work because of your conscience or something like that.

Let's have some examples: a general strike: a general strike is an attempt to halt all economic activity by withholding labor, usually for some sort of goal. A pragmatic approach to a general strike would be having several different labor organizations coordinating all to go on strike at the same time in order to fulfill certain demands. A dogmatic approach to a general strike would be calling for a strike on social media a week before it happens with no backing from any labor orgs and demanding people use their limited sick days and PTO rather than walking out with the support of their coworkers and cyber bullying people who question the efficacy of a strike without organized labor.

A boycott: a pragmatic approach to a boycott is targeting one or a few companies that everyone can avoid purchasing from in order to achieve a specific goal. Boycotting the companies that BDS has called for is a good example of this because BDS has the reach to coordinate what could be a critical mass of people. A dogmatic approach to boycotting is demanding that people boycott any organization doing something bad. Spoiler alert there is no ethical consumption under capitalism but people still need to eat. If I hear you yelling at people about McDonald's and then see you with that Sabra Hummus it's on sight.

Protest: a pragmatic approach is organizing a large group of people or many small groups of people in the same city to march for a cause. A dogmatic approach is that one guy counter protesting pride who is there by himself every single year telling us all we'll burn in hell.

And so on and so forth. If you want to make a difference you need people and you're not gonna get people the way you're acting.

[fuck-customers]

Anyone have any advice for dealing with burnout because of work?

Im only 24 and ive been at this job for a few months only and i feel like i just cant do the simplest thing without feeling exhausted by it (on top of the thousands of other reasons i could give about feeling like this)

I have to work throught it because if i even take one day off i cant afford to pay bills or buy food (we dont get pto). So is this going to be like this forever or is there anything i can do to make rhis burn out go away

Posted by admin Rodney.

[goth-oatmilk-latte]

for context, my work schedule is done on 3 week rotation.

week 1, I work mon - sun. week 2 I work tues - thurs (off mon, fri - sun) and week 3 I work mon - fri.

this week is my tues - thurs. we also all had Monday off for labor day. my boss last week mentioned in passing he wanted to take this entire week off but couldn't bc he didn't have the PTO. on tues, he told another manager he was also foregoing vacation.

yesterday I found out he lied to both of us and isnt here, and hadn't been on tues or wed like he said, he just got on the morning zoom and lied about what he was doing.

and that's a huge problem bc I scheduled funerals and things thinking he was in. and again this is my 3 day weekend. and he told a cemetery counselor he would also take a service for an out of state funeral home. and she called me all panicked.

baby first of all, I legally am an apprentice until Sept 17 when my state board license is printed and issued. I can't actually do anything.

two, I AM A GODDAMN FUCKING APPRENTICE LEGALLY I CANT DO SHIT FOR FUCK BY MYSELF WITHOUT A FULLY LICENSED DIRECTOR WITH ME. so he's also violating state law.

three, this is not only irresponsible to me but also unfair to me and all of our other coworkers who also weren't aware.

four, I can't have overtime so I can't even go in today (and I also don't want to) so now I have ppl calling me and I'm like hahahahaha ask him.

I am so fucking tired of this. this man has the audacity to complain he's "always" at work this mf is never here and doesn't tell anyone a goddamn thing he's doing and makes everything my problem.

as soon as the state issues my license I'm fucking out. yall didn't wanna replace my other work partner and burn me out and take me for granted? fine. pay my license fees and get fucked. I'm not doing this abusive ass shit anymore. have fun working alone like I have for almost six months now.

[unohanadaydreams]

five comfort characters, five tags

I was tagged by @srtruth here and @bleachbleachbleach here. (Linked so you can go read their answers!!!)

Thank you both! I'm historically bad at remembering to do these, so I appreciate you even tagging me lol.

To me, a comfort character is one I can fall back on when I want to write or read or see something familiar and do so consistently with that character. What Would Blorbo Do? I know exactly what they'd do and so it's easy to include them in things I write. In general, Blorbo Soup for the Soul, I guess lmao.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi. My favorite blorbo. His terrarium is costly, expansive, and in view at all times. He's so theatrical & contradictory, yet at his core there's this simplicity of what he wants to be and how he views himself. And I just don't get tired of it! Definitely a beetle undergoing reconstructive surgery to better fit it's aesthetics of evolution and choosing the life of a caterpillar instead. Dug his way out of the dirt and said 'that's not who I am, actually, I'll never be that again.'

Kenpachi Zaraki. Probably the oldest blorbo of this list, tbh. A verified onion. Huge angst potential, let alone the angst fulfilled in canon. He's like if Icarus made it and laughed the whole way there, even as the Sun started to do irreparable damage to his foresight and burned everyone who made it with him to ash. He's like if the Minotaur knew the way out the whole time but continued to wander because he was so, so scared to find out the sun and stars and the sea breeze wouldn't be everything he dreamed they'd be and if they were, that they'd disappear just as he was starting to realize how wonderful it all felt.

Retsu Unohana. Second oldest blorbo after Zaraki. I just really love that you can FEEL how much she wants to live as simply as Zaraki, but she genuinely can't. She's dedicated herself towards too much. She can't ever go back. She slammed that fridge door on herself with zero hesitation. Queen of being a two-faced bitch telling herself she's one missed meditation away from going back to hunting down worthwhile fights in the middle of nowhere, but really she's just going to make the 4th division a nightmare hospital visit for anyone who pisses her off too much that day.

Giselle Gewelle. One of the newest blorbos! I love that she's a simple character with such complicated baggage. What does she want? To live! How does she want to live? With her bffs! How is she going to do that? By turning everyone into hyper-dependent undead puppets who are forced into a symbiotic relationship with her the moment they cease to live, forced to feel the same pain of stagnation as her, forced to realize that their life was a gift and her being content to let them live was a gift, that she can bleed so easily and that she didn't for so long was a Gift. You know! Just girly things. <3

A tie between Akon & Nanao Ise. Newer blorbos, for sure. Fellow workaholics who can stay sane under insane conditions & highly unreasonable employers. The hyper competent duo whose squads are being held up by their ability to maintain a straight face toward their captains when most would quit in less than a week. Definitely average less than 10 days of PTO used a year. Not just blorbos, but comrades.

Tagging with peace and love and no pressure: @wing-ed-thing @stupid-sloot-headcanons @tuliharja @a-libra-writes @j-u-u-z-o

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

do u already have ur firefighter au all planned out or are u still figuring it out?

also are the relationships in the story gonna sorta mirror the canon (like Sam and darlin being slow burn) or are you gonna reimagine them?

-🦀

I do have pretty much all of it mapped out. I know the major beats of the story, and it's just details in between them that I usually fill in during the writing stage. As things stand now, the story is going to follow Darlin' dealing with Quinn, Quinn fucking with them in a MUCH more direct way than he did in canon, and them and Sam slowly falling in love.

As for relationships, pretty much yeah! Sam and Darlin are the main focus of the story, but we'll hear from lots of other couples as well. Gavin and Freelancer, as we know from the first chapter, are together and happy (as they should be in every universe). Damien and Huxley are also together, but Lasko has yet to meet Dear in the FireVerse, as it were. Milo and Sweetheart are together and have been for years, just like in canon. Angel and David are already married, but Ash and Babe are engaged and about to get married (the four of them did talk about a double wedding, but somebody needed to run the 10-19 while the other was on their honeymoon. They flipped a coin and David and Angel won and got to get married first. In return, David eked out an extra week of PTO for Ash to use).

Vincent and Lovely are already together, but Freelancer is going to befriend Vincent before Lovely since they met him first in the FireVerse, rather than meeting Lovely at DAMN like in canon.

Porter and Treasure haven't met yet and proooobably won't during the course of the story, but I might toss them a one shot one of these days since I love those two sooooo much.

[sweetbeagaming]

Man I thought playing TS3 and TS2 would help to reignite my passion for simming and it def has but overall I’m just feeling really burned out and that’s not even the game’s fault.

I’ve been using all of my PTO for medical appointments since the beginning of the year because I literally have to or I will lose my job. I haven’t had a real day off since Christmas. I can’t reach any of the specialists I need and I spend every lunch for the past 3 weeks calling and calling to find someone to do the procedure I need.

I don’t get paid enough for my job which is also stressful. Gaming just isn’t fun when it feels like I have other things I should do. Which I don’t because I have to just wait and wait. I hate thissssss

[someonexsomeone]

Just Like Chet

Title: Just Like Chet

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: John Price x np!Reader

Summary: When you finally get some time off work, anything could happen...including falling head over heels for a man you just met!

Authors Note: Day 9!! So...sorry for this one guys, but things were looking a bit too happy around here. Some real life stuff in this one yikes but I am just a sucker for John Price and how absolutely yummy he is, so hopefully this fits well with this character? Just like all my stuff, as soon as I finish I publish it, so I would love to hear your thoughts on this one!

When you get to a certain age, you start to realize that life becomes just the same constant dreg until death. School at least provided structure, the promise of a place to be for most of the year with the excitement of escaping those walls for 3 whole months to bask in the sun with your friends. Once school gave you the boot, because only a handful of people ever stay for the rest of their lives, work is the next closest thing. And work? It does not give a single damn if you’ve been there for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week like you had been doing your whole life. A vacation? Good luck getting even a moment's rest, even if you requested the time off months in advance and worked above your pay grade for most of that. Even if you were dead tired on your feet, and on the verge of a mental break. Even then, and so much worse than that.

You liked to believe you were a hard worker. Tried to help out where people needed you, completed your work on time, and participated in every lame attempt the company made at bonding coworkers. You had some vacation here and there, but it was extremely rare for you to be granted more than a long weekend here and there.

This is why it was practically a miracle you were sitting on the flight, let alone getting to turn your phone off without fear of a bombardment of calls. Your work, for lack of better words, was getting heavily investigated by some external company, your status at the company meant you were privy to only the bare minimum, which meant a complete shutdown of all productivity until the investigation was over. Projected for an entire week, no one was allowed to access their accounts, their emails, or their reports, lest something was corrupted or changed while being investigated. And, since it was the company under investigation and not any particular low-paid employee, the company was giving PTO for everyone the entire week. You could barely believe it.

Your friends completely jumped at the chance for a vacation, finally something longer than a few days close to home. No, this was a trip to go all out while you could. Corny Hawaiian shirts were a must, matched with warm weather and open-toed shoes were the only thing on their minds as they sent the flight information for you to join them on a week-long trip to Mexico, some small town that was designed specifically for tourists looking to relax by the beach with a coconut in hand and a bustling nightlife. And, with one of your friends working with you at the company, there was hardly a time when everyone would get to be together. It took some convincing on their part, but you couldn’t seem to regret it in the slightest as your nerves built the higher the plane climbed in the sky, practically bouncing in your seat through to landing. Did you look a little crazy? Yeah. But, the goofy grins you shared with your friends made any embarrassment fly out the window. This was your vacation, dammit, and you were going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Landing was a breeze, and getting to the hotel was even easier, what with the endless line of taxis waiting outside for any customer walking their way. The hotel was used only for a drop-off of sorts, and you were down at the beach before you knew it, slathering sunscreen on in hopes to combat the burning sun rays that warmed you to your very core. Even as your skin started to get the hints of sunburn didn’t stop the absolute bliss you were feeling.

Despite being thoroughly exhausted from a day of lounging by the crashing waves, your friends insisted on dragging you out to a nearby club after dinner.

“I’m tired,” you whined jokingly, flopping down on your bed. The others were tossing your clothes left and right, trying to pick out the best outfit to match the rest of them with your mix-match styles.

“You’ll have one specialty cocktail and completely change your tune,” one of them teased, pinching your thigh. The others laughed at your yelp. Why did they have to know you so well?

The music was thumping through your veins, and the alcohol blasting through your chest. Or, wait, was it the other way around? Either way, something commanded your hips and arms to swing the way they were, without an absolute care in the world. Your empty glass was getting swung along, sometimes acting as a microphone, and sometimes being used as a shield to ignore the several people who tried to come up and talk to you. Too many words to think clearly, and alcohol was a much more tolerable than any person who couldn’t take your blabbing as a clear indicator you were too drunk to care about them. After the third attempt to take a sip of your drink, one you swore you had just a second ago in that empty glass, you excused yourself from the man stuttering in front of you. You smiled politely, gestured to your drink, and disappeared into the crowd.

Across the room, you could barely make out one of your friends getting rather handsy with someone, the room too dark to tell if it was one of your other friends or not, and passed another on your way to the bar, sharing smiles. Once you threw yourself against the bar, because, let's be honest, you were never that coordinated with the amount of alcohol you had in your system, you spotted your last friend getting chatty with a group of handsome men. They were huge, much larger than your average gangle of testosterone, all dressed in tight-fitting shirts and cargo pants. Two of them were splitting your friend's attention, one with a goofy smile and another with a small mohawk, while the other two were positioned on either side, seemingly surveying the very drunk crowd around them. You could barely look at the one in the surgical mask, his eyes too piercing to look at for more than a glance, but the other looked…softer, a little more approachable. He stood, as opposed to the others all sitting at the bar, a glass of something amber in his hand, his stance seemingly relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes drifted over the crowd he was ready to pounce at any second. The way his arms were crossed made his arms seem just a little bigger, and honestly, if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through you, you would have blushed at the sudden desire to bury your face into his chest. His beard was neatly trimmed, his hair just as put together, and there was shine of something around his neck. Military, maybe? You vaguely recalled flying over what looked like a military camp on your way here, so maybe this town worked well as a getaway for them too?

A loud laugh from your friend made you jump, eyes tearing away from the handsome man. They looked like they were having fun, playfully hitting one of the men on the shoulders, before dipping down and taking another sip of their multicolored drink. In that moment, they glanced up, catching your eye across the sea of the bar. They let out a call, too far away but you knew it was your name, and they waved frantically to get you to join them. You hesitated, just a moment too long because that scary masked man was looking at you now and it set you on edge, before making your way over.

“Barkeep! Another one of these for my friend,” they cried as you approached, pointing at the slushy drink in front of them. “Guys! This is my friend, the one I was telling you about that works with me! This is Johnny and Kyle!” Your friend swayed gently, the one they called Johnny rested a hand on their waist to steady them, pulling you close until their month was practically in your ear. “Aren’t they so hot?!” Even you could tell that the attempt at a whisper was a complete failure. Though, based on the matching smile the men had, they didn’t seem to mind. “Don’t worry. I saved the hot mature one for you.” 

A drink was shoved into your hand as they pushed you, your back colliding with the man you were practically drooling over earlier. They gave you a wink, before turning their attention back to their two companions. 

“Woah, there.” Oh, no. That voice would surely make your knees collapse from under you at this rate. “Steady.”

“Sorry,” you managed to squeak, righting yourself too quickly that you tripped over your own tangle of limbs. The man still had a firm grasp on your arm, pulling you to fall into him once again rather than tumble to the floor. Your face was burning.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I think I’ve had more than I usually do.” He chuckled. Oh no.

“It’s a club. You’re supposed to get a little drunk.” At this, you smiled.

“I don’t know if I could quality as ‘a little’ anymore, but thanks anyway.” He guided you to the chair he had previously been standing behind, slotting himself so he was completely facing you. You tried to make sure your eyes were firmly on his face and not where they so obviously wanted to ogle at the way his arm looked as it propped him up. Simultaneously, your brain was completely short-circuiting as he leaned closer, practically making out with your personal bubble, in order to hear you over the thumping music. Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him, don’t-

“First time?”

“In a while,” you admitted. “I don’t get out much.”

“Work?” You hummed. “I know that feeling. Your friend said you worked together. Same thing, or different department?”

John, as you found out later, was easy to talk to. A little too easy, if you were being completely honest, though you did chalk a lot of that up to the alcoholic slushy you nursed the rest of the night. He was fun, in that goofy dad energy sort of way, making you laugh a little harder than you wanted to admit. He was extremely attentive too, repeating himself when your face displayed the disconnect between your brain and your ear, smiling all the while. You were sure you were annoying him with your non-stop babbling, but he genuinely seemed like he wanted to listen to what you said. He even leaned into your touch when the alcohol got the better of you, laughing when you caught yourself running a finger up and down his arm or when you leaned closer to not so discreetly take a sniff of his cologne. 

And, if your night ended up with you in bed together, him pulling sounds out of you that you had only thought possible in raunchy movies, then who were you to complain?

Despite your trip taking an unexpected turn, your friends were more than a little loud in support of the additional person that joined you nearly every day of your remaining trip. John easily won over your friends, his soft smile and kind personality were hard to dislike, meshing so well that them joining you two for breakfast that first morning after was hardly awkward. He joined practically every meal you had, discreetly running his hand over your thigh or bringing your hand up for a gentle kiss, accompanying you on long walks on the beach and even longer nights in your bedroom. John just made you so comfortable, with both yourself and him, that you felt like you had known him for months rather than days. Those early mornings, just laying naked next to each other, voices soft as daylight broke the horizon, made all the stress of your everyday life drift away. Was it crazy to think you were in love with him? Absolutely. But it didn’t stop the neverending trail that led you to think about the possibility of letting yourself love him, about the possibility of this week becoming every week with John by your side. It made you absolutely giddy in a way you never had before.

The week was even more blissful than you could have imagined, beating out every other vacation you'd ever had by a mile. The thought that this trip was almost over made tears well up in your eyes, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t stay in touch, right? John told you he wasn’t stationed in Mexico, just visiting for something work-related (top secret he had whispered with a smile and a kiss), so maybe he could be stationed closer to you? Or, you felt it crazy to admit, maybe…you could move a little closer to him? You shook your head immediately at the thought. You had known him for a week, a week, but there was something about John Price that made you want to think irrational thoughts if it meant you got to keep him.

On the last night of your trip, your friends pulled you along to a nice restaurant, the best one in the surrounding area of the hotel, and gorged on the best food of the trip, drinks, of course, in hand. They teased you endlessly about your John, one of your friends going as far as teasing that maybe John could get them in contact with the other hotties on his team. Johnny and Kyle had ghosted your friend pretty hardcore after that night, but they didn’t seem off-put by it, instead turning that night into a challenge of sorts to sleep with as many people as possible before going home. 

“Two out of five of us hooking up with guys from that unit has to be impressive right?” One of them joked, laughing goodnaturedly as you swatted at them. “Let’s make it five out of five!”

“As long as John is off the table,” you smiled, “you lot are hot enough to bag them without my help.” They cheered, clinking glasses together before ordering another round.

You promised John you would meet him at your hotel room when your dinner was over, wanting to spend a little more time with him before your early flight the next morning. With a hundred promises to see them in the morning and promising not to run off with John in the middle of the night, you left the girls at the front of the restaurant, heading back to the hotel as they headed back to the bar for one last hurrah. A little drunk, but the confidence it gave you made you practically skip back to the hotel, giddy with the prospect of getting John all to yourself for the rest of the night. Besides, if you didn’t get any sleep tonight, that’s what the plane ride was for. 

Just at the entrance of the hotel, you stopped dead, quickly ducking behind the nearest wall. Your John was talking quietly with that masked man you saw on the first night. He looked a little different, beanie pulled low on his head to accompany the mask, but you recognized him by the hunch in his shoulder alone. Besides, who else would wear a mask in this heat?

“...isn’t a part of the plan,” you managed to catch the masked man say, “...compromised…could find out…vulnerable to the mission…”

Compromised? Find out? You had a horrible feeling, like a rock sinking in your stomach.

“They don’t know anything…” John said, anger on his face. His voice was a little louder, rough and clear in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“...don’t know…already got the information…” John said something in response, too low for you to make out, but it made the masked man tense. “...leave soon…Cut off contact then and be done with it. They don’t mean anything to you anyway.”

“That’s no way to speak to your superior, Lieutenant.”

“This is why…leave Johnny…seduce…” His voice was so low you could barely hear him, and you had a feeling that whatever was said was more to himself than anyone else. You gulped, tears on the verge of spilling. “I want to trust you, Captain, but you’re too close to this.”

There was a part of you, a naively desperate part, that wanted John to continue to use that voice, deny to this masked man that you weren’t the target of whatever information they needed so John would still be able to see you past this trip. Your heart sunk as John signed, rubbing his hand up and down his face once, before meeting eyes with the masked man again.

“You’re right. I’ll handle this tonight.” They looked at each other for a long moment, before the masked man nodded once, turning on his heel. You quickly ducked behind the wall, hiding in the shadows as the man walked past you with only the smallest falter in his step. When he disappeared at the next turn, you stepped out from the alleyway. John was gone as well, no doubt heading up to your hotel room to break your heart or keep his promise to spend the night with you.

It was like your feet couldn’t decide what to do, too uncertain to head towards the hotel but also too cowardly to run away. You wanted to see him, pathetically so, but was that desire enough to override the betrayal you felt deep in your bones?

You scoffed to yourself. Who were you kidding? John had only known you for a week, what other reason would there be for him to approach you as hard as he did other than to get intel? You felt like a fool. No wonder he asked about your work so much, about the investigation that brought you on this trip, and the connection your friend had to the company! At the time it just felt like he was trying to make small talk, the easy questions you ask in the beginning of a relationship, but those happy memories were tainted now with the knowledge he was just using you for information. All those nights together, the hours you spent talking, the things he told you; were any of those real? You hiccuped a sob, pushing your hand against your mouth to silence the sound, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. You felt dirty, hurt, used.

By the time you reached your hotel room, your face was dry, a little makeup reapplied to hide the puffiness, and your mind a little clearer. You took a second longer to compose yourself before pushing open the door, the smile that used to come so easily to your face when you saw John only a little difficult to recreate from memory. John looked up from his book, stretched out on the bed in a way that used to make your stomach flip in happiness. That flip was still there, but even he could see the flash of bitterness.

“Darling?” You shivered at the nickname. “You alright?”

There were a million things you wanted to say to him. Yell, scream, throw things, and demand answers. Sob uncontrollably and ask if any of it was the truth. Leave and never look back.

“I’m just gonna miss you. So much.” The words were as shocking to you as they were to him if his face was any indication. He was up in the next moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Oh, my dear…” he whispered against your head. You shook lightly in his arms, betrayed by both him and the words you spoke into existence. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of you that he offered no other verbal comfort. What would he even say? That he would keep in touch? He would move the earth to stay with you? That this week had been the best that either of you had ever had and the thought of it being over was breaking something deep inside? No, as much as those promises wanted to be real, there was too much to consider to say something that definite. Instead, John pulled away gently, kissing you with everything he had.

He loved you slow that night. It was everything you had dreamed about, the exact way you had told your friends you wished the night would go. For those hours, you forgot about your pain, just for a little while, to completely enjoy the little slice of love John Price allowed himself to give you. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, held you like a precious thing, like his precious thing. As much as you knew you should, as much as you knew your friends would be pissed at the situation, you didn’t even have the heart to be upset at him when he looked at you with that unspoken regret. You just kissed each of his cheeks gently, running your fingers over the creases in his face to smooth them away and allow yourself to give him some comfort. His loving gaze, the one that didn’t falter at any position, brought tears to your eyes. That night, you allowed yourself to be just a little greedy, and you could tell he allowed himself the same. A silent goodbye, even if neither of you wanted it.

When the sun rose the next morning, it was like the final notes of an epic symphony, a gentle fade from the swell of instruments, all culminating in these final moments before silence. You woke, as much as you wanted to sleep through his departure, keeping your eyes closed as you tracked his movement through the room. In all honesty, you were surprised he was still there. Surely it would have been easier for both of you if he slipped out in the middle of the night, taking everything that reminded you of him and disappearing without a trace, never to be heard from again. But, there was something odd in the way he moved. It was like he paused after every task, taking the few steps it took to make his way back to your side, running a hand over your sleeping face before grabbing something else, and repeating the cycle. After the first few times, you dared to lean into his touch, which earned you a kiss on the head. The tears were gathering again, despite your refusal to allow them to fall. When the last of his stuff was gathered from every nook and cranny, he approached your side one final time. 

He reached out, running a hand over your face like he had been. You followed by leaning into his touch, as you had been. But when his hand continued to move, using your chin to guide your lips to his, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling, or the desperate movement of your lips as you bid him farewell. There really was a language all of its own in a kiss, you had found out in that kiss, and John’s was an essay of an apology, pushing against yours until both of you were out of breath, trying to get you to understand something he couldn’t say out loud.

John ran his hand over your face one last time, kissed your head, then disappeared from your life, leaving only silence in his wake. 

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