#maybe it’s obvious but some things need to be shifted

[movingmusically]

Fic request.Austin has been developing a crush on his publicist(reader) for a while but she has no idea.He ends up confessing his feelings during a game of truth and dare with mutual friends. Could you write it from austin's perspective?

Author’s Note: I also received this similar request so tried to write something that worked for both.

Can i request a shorter chapter from austin's perspective? More along the lines of austin having a crush on a girl but she's completely unaware of it. More focus on anxiety that comes with wanting to confess your feelings but never finding the right words or moment to convey them?

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

The Truth of It

It started slow. A flicker. A shift. Nothing obvious. Nothing dramatic.

I’d been working with you for almost a year by then. Enough time to know that you were damn good at your job—and terrifying in that calm, patient way that made other people scramble to keep up.

You never raised your voice, never snapped, never panicked—not even when we were behind schedule or some journalist asked me a question I’d been strictly told to avoid. You’d just appear. Like magic. A gentle hand on my arm, a quiet, “Let’s move on, yeah?” before turning to the reporter with a smile so smooth it could cut glass.

And people listened. They always listened.

“You have to ask the boss,” I said once, halfway through a red carpet when photographers wanted more pictures. You gave me a look like don’t start, but you didn’t deny it.

“Smile, Butler,” you said, nudging me toward the camera. “You’re getting paid for that jawline.”

I smiled. Mostly because you made me want to.

Whenever we were swarmed—flashbulbs, handlers, noise—you reached for my hand to tug me through the chaos. Just like that. No hesitation. Your fingers curled around mine, steady, guiding.

It happened often enough that I stopped questioning it—just let you lead.

Then, one night, you glanced toward a cluster of fans at the barrier and said, calm as ever, “Quick stop for the ones with posters,” without breaking stride. “Then we’ve gotta move.”

And I went. Happily. Because if it was for fans, you always made time. But if it was for me, you made space—held everything still just long enough for me to breathe.

You knew me. That was the problem. You knew the version of me that everyone else saw—and the one that came out after too many interviews and not enough sleep.

You’d show up at my trailer with coffee before I knew I needed it.

You’d pull me out of conversations when my jaw started to lock.

You remembered what kind of gum I liked.

And you never made it feel like a job.

So yeah. Somewhere in there, something changed. I didn’t mean for it to. I just… couldn’t help it.

I almost told you today.

We were walking out of the hotel, post-junket, you listing the next day’s schedule like it was a grocery list. Calm. Efficient. Familiar.

And I looked at you—just looked—and the words nearly slipped out.

I like you.

Or maybe just, I think about you more than I should.

Something light. Something easy.

Something that might’ve meant everything.

But then you glanced at your phone and said we’d be late if we didn’t get moving, and the moment was gone before I even finished building it in my head.

It’s always like that.

These quiet, impossible seconds where I think maybe I could say something. Where I think maybe you’d hear it the way I mean it—not as pressure, not as some cliché, but just… honesty. A quiet truth.

But I never do.

Because we’re good.

Because I don’t want to mess it up.

Because you smile at me like I’m safe, and if I say the wrong thing, that smile might change.

You don’t know.

I’m almost sure of it.

You don’t know that I notice the way your voice softens when you’re asking me something you think I won’t like. That I know the exact shade your eyes go when you’re focused—really focused—on fixing something no one else saw coming. You don’t know that I’ve replayed a dozen almost-moments in my head, trying to figure out if I missed my chance.

If there ever even was one.

You don’t know that I nearly told you last week, when we were standing in line at that coffee place and you laughed at some dumb comment I made. Head tilted, sunglasses slipping down your nose. You looked up at me like I was worth looking at.

And I thought—just for a second—say something.

But I didn’t.

You got a call. I let the moment slip.

I’ve rehearsed it so many times it’s embarrassing.

I’ve tried casual. “You know, you’re kind of impossible to get over.”

I’ve tried funny. “Is there a non-weird way to tell your publicist you’ve got a thing for her?”

I’ve tried serious.

And I’ve said none of them. Not once.

Because you’re not just someone I like. You’re the person I count on.

You’re the calm in every cluster of chaos. The voice in my ear telling me we’ve got five minutes. The person who shows up with tea when my voice is shot, and a look that shuts down dumb questions before I even need to flinch.

You’re… you.

And I don’t want to lose that.

You’d be kind if I told you. That’s what scares me most.

You wouldn’t laugh or make it awkward. You’d smile, probably. Say thank you. Let me down gently.

Then keep doing your job—brilliantly, calmly, without missing a beat.

And I’d still feel like I’d dropped something fragile between us that I could never quite pick back up.

So I wait.

For what, I don’t know.

A sign? The right words? A day where it doesn’t feel like a risk?

Maybe just a second of courage I haven’t managed to find yet.

The thing is—I don’t want everything.

I just want you to know.

And if I ever do tell you the truth, I hope you’ll still look at me the same way after.

We had mutual friends. That helped and didn’t. You used to work with James’s old client, and somewhere along the way, you’d ended up in the same circles. A lot of LA people did. Tight-knit, overlapping, the way this city works when everyone pretends it’s huge but it’s really just one never-ending dinner party.

So when James said he was having people over for his birthday, I knew you’d be there.

He texted earlier to remind me it’s just a chill birthday hang. No pressure. I stared at my phone for a full minute before answering. He has no idea how loud “no pressure” feels when I know you’ll be there.

I should cancel.

Say I’ve got an early call or a migraine or—hell, just vanish.

It would be easier.

But then I remember that thing you said once, half-joking, half not—“You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. Try showing up instead.”

And I think, maybe this is me trying.

Even if I don’t say a word.

Even if I just sit there and nod like none of this is happening in my head.

Even if you never look at me the way I look at you.

I’ll still be there.

Because showing up counts for something, right?

I told myself I was just showing up because I hadn’t seen the crew in a while. But I wore the shirt I knew you liked—the black one with the slightly rolled sleeves—and I brought the bottle of bourbon you’d once said reminded you of New York winters.

You were already there when I walked in.

You looked up, already halfway through a drink and barefoot on James’s rug like you owned the place.

“Took your time,” you said, one eyebrow raised.

“Traffic.”

“Sure.” You glanced at the bourbon in my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You really think I’d show up without it?”

That earned me a smile. “I’ll put it with the rest.”

I followed you into the kitchen, where someone was lighting candles in a cake and James was insisting he didn’t want people singing. You handed me a drink—exactly how I take it, not that I’ve ever told you—and pointed toward the living room.

“Go be social. I’ll rescue you if it gets weird.”

“You always do.”

The night warmed slowly. A few more people arrived. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Industry adjacent, mostly—PR, management, the kind of people who always seem to know each other in LA. Not a massive party, but enough for clusters of conversation, background music, and too many shoes piled by the door.

You were everywhere and nowhere—laughing at James’s terrible playlist, refilling drinks, teasing someone for calling their agent mid-party. But every so often, you ended up beside me again. Elbow brushing mine on the couch. Knees bumping under the table during cake.

I pretended not to notice. Or tried to.

“You always this charming at birthday parties?” I asked when you handed me a napkin just before I dropped icing on my shirt.

You tilted your head. “Only for the ones who dress up.”

“This is me dressed down.”

You smiled. “Shocking.”

It was later—drinks flowing, lights dimmed to that comfortable, flattering level—when someone brought it up.

“I swear, we’re not doing Truth or Dare,” James said, groaning into the couch cushions. “We’re too old for this.”

“That’s exactly why we should,” someone replied. “Let’s act like idiots before our backs give out.”

There were protests, obviously. Groaning, eye-rolling, someone muttering something about ‘trauma from sixth grade.’ But no one left the room.

You were curled up at the edge of the couch, glass in hand, grinning. “Fine. But I’m going first so I can leave when it gets ridiculous.”

James pointed at you. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Truth.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the most unprofessional thing you’ve ever done on the job?”

You took a beat. “I once took a twenty-minute nap in a parked car during a film festival press day. Left my assistant in charge and set an alarm.”

Someone whistled.

I frowned. “Wait. Was that in Venice?”

“Yep.”

“I thought you were reviewing the schedule.”

“I was. In my dreams.”

“That was right before I went on Italian TV.”

“Exactly. I woke up refreshed and fully capable of wrangling you in two languages.”

The game rolled on. One person had to text their ex. Another admitted to crying after losing a pitch. Someone tried to do a handstand and immediately regretted it. All very grown-up stuff.

I stayed quiet. Sipped my drink. Listened. Watched you.

Then someone looked at me. “Alright, your turn Austin. Truth or dare?”

I leaned back, slow. “Truth.”

Of course I picked truth. It wasn’t the kind of night for dares. Not for me.

“Who was the last person who completely caught you off guard?”

It was meant to be harmless, I think. But the second they asked, I felt it—like a shift. Everyone looked relaxed, not really paying attention. But you were watching me.

And I knew I could dodge. Say some reporter. An old friend. Anyone but the truth.

But I shrugged. “Someone I work with.”

That got a few raised eyebrows. Someone whistled. Someone else asked, “Like actually work with?”

I didn’t answer.

But I wasn’t looking at anyone else.

Just you.

The game carried on, but it felt like the air shifted after that.

Maybe it was just me.

No one pressed for more details. The attention moved on—back to dares and dumb stories, someone doing their best celebrity impression, James complaining about the time he sprained his wrist trying to impress a girl with yoga.

You laughed. You rolled your eyes. But I could feel it—something tighter in the space between us. You didn’t look at me much after that question. Not directly. But your body stayed turned toward mine. Your glass tilted in my direction when you talked. Your knee still bumped mine under the throw blanket someone had tossed between us.

Eventually, the game fizzled out. People peeled off into different corners—some back to the kitchen for snacks, some to the garden for air.

You stood up to stretch, glancing down at me with that easy smile you wore like armour. “You want anything? I’m going to grab water.”

“Yeah,” I said, standing too. “I’ll come with.”

You led the way to the kitchen, and I followed. It was quieter in there. Dimmer. The fridge hummed gently as you poured two glasses, handed me one, then leaned against the counter like nothing was different.

But something was. You weren’t looking at me quite the same way.

You took a sip, then asked, too casually, “So. That answer.”

I blinked. “What about it?”

“That truth. ‘Someone I work with.’”

I met your gaze, waited.

You tilted your head. “You meant someone in this room.”

It wasn’t really a question. More like a guess you didn’t quite believe.

I gave a small shrug. “Depends who’s still technically on payroll.”

That made you huff a soft laugh—but your eyes didn’t leave mine.

“I didn’t know you could be cryptic,” you said.

I smiled into my glass. “I contain multitudes.”

You didn’t push it further. Just gave me one more look—curious, maybe a little unsure—and then turned your attention back to the glass in your hand.

And I thought, Not yet.

I wasn’t going to say more. Not here. Not when I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.

Then a loud laugh burst from the other room—someone knocking over something, maybe. The moment snapped like a rubber band.

You blinked, stood straighter, and tapped your fingers against the counter.

“I should probably make sure James hasn’t burned down the snack table.”

I nodded. “Go. Be the hero.”

But you didn’t leave right away.

You stood there for a second longer, watching me with that expression I could never quite read. Like you were working something out. Like you were about to speak but didn’t want to get the words wrong.

And then you turned and walked out.

I stayed behind. Pretended to check my phone. Took a sip of water I didn’t want. Stared at the counter like it might offer answers.

I hadn’t planned on saying anything tonight. Hadn’t planned anything at all, really. But it had slipped out—honest and real—and now it was just… out there.

I wasn’t sure if you’d heard it the way I meant it. If it would change anything. Or if you’d pretend tomorrow like none of it had happened at all.

But a few minutes later, when I wandered back into the living room, you were waiting. Not near the others. Not caught up in a new conversation.

You were leaning against the hallway arch, arms folded, like you’d been waiting there a while.

Not scrolling your phone. Not pretending to be on your way somewhere else.

Just waiting.

I crossed the room slowly, careful not to make it look like I was hurrying. But my pulse picked up anyway.

You didn’t move. Just said, “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Was it… me?” You weren’t coy about it. You weren’t fishing for a compliment. You just genuinely didn’t know—and that, somehow, made the question land even harder.

I nodded once. “Yeah. It was you.”

You let out a breath, more surprise than relief. “Okay. Just… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to assume.”

“Fair.”

You tilted your head, searching. “How did I catch you off guard?”

I looked at you for a long second. “Can I give you the real answer?”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Please.”

“Not here,” I said. “Come with me?”

The guest room was quiet. Lights low. Door half-closed behind us, like even it understood this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

You stood just inside the room, arms at your sides now, watching me with that same careful expression. Not guarded, not afraid. Just… alert. Like you were bracing for something you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, but needed to anyway.

“So?” you said softly. “What was it?”

I leaned against the opposite wall, hands in my pockets, heart thudding like I’d run five blocks instead of five steps. “You want the honest version?”

You nodded.

“You caught me off guard because… I didn’t see you coming. Not like this.”

Your brow furrowed, just slightly.

“I knew you were good at your job,” I said. “Smart. On it. The person who always had the answers. That was obvious from day one.”

You watched me, saying nothing.

“But then there was the other stuff. Little things. The way you’d drag me away from a conversation right before I started saying something I’d regret. The way you’d hand me gum without asking, or say my name a certain way when I was two questions away from snapping. The way you’d look at me when I wasn’t even talking, like you knew what I was thinking before I did.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just stood there, still and quiet and listening in a way that made my chest ache.

“I didn’t expect to like you,” I said. “And I definitely didn’t expect to feel anything like this. You’re not… you’re not loud about anything. You don’t try to take up space. But you’re everywhere. And I didn’t notice until I couldn’t stop noticing.”

Something in your expression shifted. Softened.

“I meant it,” I added. “You caught me off guard. Not because you did something big. Just because you were you, and I wasn’t ready for what that did to me.”

The silence stretched—but it didn’t feel empty. It felt full. Heavy with everything we hadn’t said until now.

“I’m your publicist,” you said softly, almost like you were reminding yourself. “This is… complicated.”

“Doesn’t feel complicated,” I said. “Not right now.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Just let your eyes drag over my face like you were memorising it. Your voice, when it came, was quieter.

You exhaled slowly. “I really didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

You looked at me. “Why not?”

“Because I like having you in my life exactly as you are. And if saying any of this screwed it up, I didn’t think I could live with that.”

You didn’t speak right away. Just crossed the room in two quiet steps and stopped in front of me.

Close enough to touch. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of your skin, the weight of your focus.

“And now?”

I swallowed. “Now I think I’d rather take the risk.”

You didn’t smile. But your hand found mine. Your fingers curled around mine, steady and deliberate.

Like you were still thinking it through, still holding the weight of everything we were and everything this could shift.

I didn’t move. Didn’t try to push the moment further. Just let my thumb graze the side of your hand, slow and grounding.

You looked up at me, eyes searching.

“I don’t… I’ve never let myself think of you that way,” you said finally, voice quiet. “Not because I didn’t like being around you. I love being around you. I love working with you. You’re—” You stopped yourself. Swallowed. “You’re wonderful.”

That hit harder than it should’ve. Maybe because I could hear the care in it. Maybe because you still hadn’t let go of my hand.

“I just always thought mixing work and… anything else was a bad idea,” you added. “And with you, it’s never been complicated. It’s been good. Easy.”

“I’m not trying to make it complicated,” I said. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I’m not asking for all or nothing.”

You were still watching me, brows drawn slightly like you were working through something you hadn’t planned on solving tonight.

“I just meant what I said,” I added. “You caught me off guard. And I didn’t want to keep pretending that didn’t mean anything.”

The silence stretched, but not in a way that made me want to take it back. You weren’t pulling away.

You were just still catching up.

And then you stepped closer—half a step, maybe less—and said, “I don’t know what this means yet.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“But I don’t want to pretend either.”

That was it.

That was all I needed.

I brought my hand to your cheek, warm and tentative, giving you time to pull back.

You didn’t.

And when I kissed you, it was careful. Curious. A soft, steady press of lips like testing the shape of a new idea.

You kissed me back with the same hesitation I felt in my chest—like we were both standing at the start of something and still working out if the ground beneath us was solid.

But then your hand slid up to my chest, fingers resting lightly over my heart like you needed to feel what you couldn’t quite say yet.

And you didn’t let go.

When we pulled back, your eyes stayed closed for a second longer than mine.

Then you opened them, looked up at me, lips parted, a little breathless. “I don’t know what happens next,” you admitted.

“We figure it out,” I said. “Slow. Safe. On your terms.”

You gave the smallest nod.

And this time, when you smiled, it reached all the way to your eyes.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @myradiaz @butlerrizz @chocolatetree222

[cheol-e-kat]

HIIII if it's okay can i ask about if there will be more of the anon s3x with cheol? it was sooo good - plz a part 2

haiiihi - so i got a lot of asks for a part two and i genuinely hope you all like it - let me know in comments, anons, whatever - i want to know if this cheol delivers hehe

♡ kat

p.s. this is a part two, so maybe read part one [ anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing ]

master list & tag list

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐

previous bingo squares: anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing

pairing: choi seungcheol / f!reader

summary:  y/n was dressed as a cat for halloween when she encountered a masked stranger who seemed to love everything about her…now she knows who it is 

now she wants to know if it was more than a one-time thing

word count: 2.2 k

genre: college au, smut

Rating: 18+, MDNI, explicit

warnings below cut

warnings: explicit language, fingering, implied squirting, oral sex, penetrative sex, messy sex

Every time she glanced up, it felt like all she could see was the very clear, very obvious bite mark on Seungcheol’s throat. It was barely above the collar of his hoodie, but something told her that he meant for it to be seen - he wasn’t hiding it. 

She remembered how it felt, like a moment of complete madness to just sink her teeth into him like a fucking vampire marking her territory. That was dramatic, though - it wasn’t that serious. At least she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t that serious. Fucking Seungcheol in the bathroom was not serious. 

Because how could it be serious, she wondered, even if she had lain awake in bed the night before because her horniness and curiosity about whoever it was fought off her need for sleep. 

And now he was sitting diagonally from her, eating lunch like it was just a normal day, hiding his smile behind his hand when he thought something was too funny. 

The worst was when her gaze drifted to him, and she realized he was watching her. It wasn’t that she minded, but she suddenly found herself growing red and wondering if he looked at her that way more than she knew. Worse was the thought that she hadn’t noticed. 

She had liked him when they first met - she just never thought he liked her. He was always quiet around her. Even when she tried to draw him out a bit, he was like a little clam, closing tightly when he felt the smallest shift in the water around him. They had friends in common, but when she started to meet other people and branch out…it never crossed her mind that he would even notice that she wasn’t around. 

But he obviously had some thoughts about her based on what he had said the night before - “I always knew you would be messy” - that was what he had said, and even the memory of it was palpable - she could taste him again, feel him again - the sloppy, needy way they had kissed, the desperate, rushed way they had fucked. She shivered, thinking about what it would be like with him if he had time and privacy. 

She ripped her mind away from those thoughts, though, and tried to focus on her food. 

It was probably the most nerve-racking lunch she had ever endured. Yet, somehow, as she was leaving, she found herself glancing towards Seungcheol as he walked away. He was literally headed in the opposite direction that she needed to go and the opposite direction of their friends too. 

She paused outside the restaurant for a split second, barely processing what she was doing, as she re-routed herself towards him. Maybe she needed to talk to him about class or something - she wouldn’t even mention the night before, she assured herself.  

She jogged a few paces and then tried to casually fall into step with him. “Can we talk?” she asked, managing to keep her voice steady.

He glanced at her, smiling, “About what, kitten?” He asked in his low voice - it was just as sexy as it was the night before.

Her eyes widened slightly at the fact that he was so nonchalant. “Umm,” she hesitated because did they really need to talk about it, she wondered. She had no idea how to navigate what he had just said.

Apparently, she was too focused on contemplating his simple question, though, because he grabbed her arm, laughing softly, “Fuck, you do see the parked car there don’t you?”

She glanced at him and shook her head because no - no, she didn’t. And she certainly didn’t notice that she was headed straight for it. She practically purred when his fingers grazed her cheek, though. 

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

She shook her head.

“Because of last night?” His voice was soft now. 

She nodded.

He started to speak but hesitated. “Was it - was it bad for you?”

She shook her head in confusion, thinking that was maybe the most ridiculous thing he could have asked.

“So it was good?”

She nodded because, yes, it was good. It had been really good. Really, really, really good.

He seemed reassured by her response and stepped closer as he slid an arm around her waist. She was surprised by how confident he was, wondering when he had ever been this open with her, besides the obvious, single instance. 

It wasn’t what she expected, but she hadn’t expected him to rearrange her guts and psyche all in the span of about 24 minutes in a frat bathroom during a Halloween party either. 

To her, Seungcheol was a bit reserved unless you knew him fairly well, which she didn’t think she did - at least she had never felt like she knew that much. She had mainly been around him at parties and things, and they had some classes together. Regardless, without thinking, she stepped closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. 

He squeezed her waist. “We’re literally standing on a sidewalk next to a busy street,” he whispered. 

She sighed in agreement. “Hmm, can I come home with you?” She asked - talking was easier when they weren’t making eye contact.

He nodded, “Yeah,” he whispered, as he slowly pulled away from her and led her along by the hand.

✶⋆.˚

She followed him to his apartment building. They went through the lobby and into an elevator. They stood next to each other quietly as the elevator went up. Neither spoke, which was perfectly normal for them.

She started to think maybe it was a mistake - she probably shouldn’t have followed him or talked to him - it was just a one-time thing. She stared at the tiled pattern on the floor, thinking about how insane she was for thinking that a single instance in a bathroom meant anything.

But then he squeezed her hand gently, and her thoughts shifted to how good things had felt the night before - how good he felt and the fact that he liked everything. The little things he said, like all the things he apparently knew she needed to happen.

Somehow, walking through the door of his apartment flipped the world upside down. Because before he had even closed and locked his apartment door, they were tangled together, kissing heatedly. 

Both of them seemed lost from the moment their lips made contact. She barely realized that they had made it into his living room, albeit to the floor. She really didn’t care, especially as she could feel him unzipping her jeans - his fingers slipping under the waistband of her underwear. 

She whined when she felt the way his fingers slid between her pussy and her already sticky underwear - his fingers hurriedly separating the fabric from her skin. She hadn’t realized she was that wet - they hadn’t even done anything. 

She would have been embarrassed, but he only seemed turned on by it, kissing her harder as his fingers teased their way between her slick folds. She moaned against his lips, pulling his hair as she did. 

He broke the kiss slowly, leaning up to watch her as he slid his first two fingers into her wet heat. She couldn’t help the way she moaned for him - he seemed to know exactly how to touch her for the most impact. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he worked his fingers deeper into her, opening them and teasing her slick walls. She felt unmoored - broken whimpers escaped her lips when he added his third finger. 

“Please,” she managed when she felt his thumb brush her clit. 

He kissed her again while his thumb drew lazy circles around her aroused bud. “Mmmh, just relax, kitten,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me.”

She nodded, already feeling drunk for him, perfectly happy to take anything he was willing to give. She already trusted him. 

She shivered and gasped as her first orgasm washed over her - the sweetness of it flowing through her, warming every part of her inside and out. She moaned softly as he kept stroking her. His touch was more than teasing. 

“Good?”

She nodded again, biting her lip. “’s perfect,” she rasped, breathing hard as he pulled more and more sounds from her.

She bit her lip, knowing she was completely gone as she came a second time. Waves of pleasure tingled through her skin. She could feel how wet she was, the way it was pooling beneath her. She loved the luscious feeling of her juices flowing over her skin, sticky and sweet and all for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “you really are this good.” He kissed her softly, pulling away only to tell her, “It’s like I’m in a dream,” he murmured quickly before she pulled him back to her. She needed to feel his lips on hers. She carded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, not caring if she seemed needy.  

He licked into her as he pulled his fingers from her. She whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but she felt his hand sliding under her shirt instead. His wet fingers teased her nipple as he deepened their kiss. At the same time, she wrapped her legs around his waist, not wanting any space between them as they continued to kiss. She was already in love with how soft his lips were. 

She ran her hands along his back, grasping the fabric of his shirt, wanting it out of her way. She bit his lip gently, “Take it off,” she whispered when he leaned back from her.

He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head. “Better?” 

She nodded, taking him in, but she immediately noticed the thin, angry lines that marked his skin. Her fingers automatically went to them, skimming over his skin while she whispered an apology. 

He hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t think I believe you,” he smirked, leaning back down to her, his lips a breath away from hers. 

She traced her fingers along his cheek. “Why?” She asked as her fingertips grazed the mark on his neck. “That?” She smiled - she was starting to feel pleased with herself for making it.

He nodded, “Umhm,” he breathed against her lips. 

“Right,” she mumbled as her lips met his. 

They made out like they had nothing but time. Every kiss feeling longer and sweeter than the one before it. And when his mouth finally shifted from hers and trailed along her throat and down her body, she moaned softly. He pushed her shirt up, kissing and nipping at her tender flesh as he moved lower, tasting her as he went. 

 She moaned softly the first time Seungcheol kissed her pussy. She reached down, letting her fingers catch in his hair as he worked his tongue inside her. She whined when he shifted so his tongue swirled around her clit. He worked his fingers back into her, pressing them deeper than before - the stretch was perfect. 

She came quickly, whining as he let her legs fall to the side. She watched him stand to finish undressing before he sat back between her legs. He was hard, but he still stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with her slick opening. 

He pushed in slowly, biting his lip as he filled her completely. He was still for a moment, enjoying the fact that he was inside her, even better was the way her pussy clenched around him before he had even started to move. 

He was slow at first, and then he started to snap his hips properly, like he had done the night before. He loved the lewd sounds that came from her cunt - she was beyond wet for him for the second time - she was soaking him. He held her thighs up and open so he could literally watch his dick disappearing inside her with every thrust. 

He bit his lip as he concentrated on going as deep as possible. He ignored the way his knees ached, focusing on her moans instead. And then it paid off - the sudden rush of cum as she lost all control. She grasped for him - he held her and tried to keep his same pace. 

But he was just as desperate for her as she was for him - he had wanted to feel her for so long, being buried in her slick cunt was a dream. He couldn’t help himself as he started to sloppily chase his orgasm, fucking into her harder than he intended, but he knew he was so close to the tension breaking.

And finally, he snapped with a sudden moan as relief washed through him along with his orgasm. He had been worried he couldn’t get her there again - to that same completely fucked out, dazed place. 

He leaned over her, kissing her softly, his cock still buried inside her. It was one thing he couldn’t do the night before - he swapped their positions, keeping it inside as he did. He loved the feeling of her body against his as sleep overwhelmed him. 

He knew he would wake up with her to do it all again. 

a/n: fr i hope he was as good as you all hoped ... he's def less rushed and don't worry - y/n's bf from the first fic is def gone ^^

part 3??

♡ kat

p.s. just for fun, since kai has a solo comeback - the first anon (or not anon) who guesses my favorite kai solo track OR solo music video/teaser film, can request a fic from me (plz check my rules to see what i don't write - still only for mingyu and seungcheol, that rule doesn't change).

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 ^^

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight

drabbles: co-worker & spanking | gamer boy | professor one | valentine's day (cute) #kat_drabbles

fluff: profound, not sudden (magical realism au)

smut: see bingo series above and random slutty thoughts collection

series: obvious affection (college au) [pt. 1 f] [pt. 2 f&s]

seungcheol bingo: knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) | bodyguard + drunk confession | anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing | big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) | sexual frustration + ex sex |

omegaverse (a/b/o): alpha seungcheol [pt. 1] [pt. 2] || never let you go [master list] [part 1 ] [part 2] ||

[ taglist ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎

☁︎ one-time tag from part one comments: @cherrylovescheol ☁︎

[grace5425]

before you go performing

part one

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you spent the night in Mattheo’s dorm, and to him, it felt like an eternity had passed.

Time had a funny way of dragging when emotions were involved—emotions Mattheo didn’t quite know how to handle. He wasn’t good with feelings, or vulnerability, or—hell—words. But he was good at avoiding. That, he had down to an art.

So that’s what he’d been doing.

Nothing outright cruel or glaringly obvious. You were still his best friend, after all. But the subtle distance was there. He hadn’t set foot in the library since that night, even though he used to haunt the place just to sit across from you while you worked. He took the long way around the castle to steer clear of the courtyards you liked. He slipped in and out of the common room at odd hours, never lingering long enough for your paths to cross.

He told himself it was for the best. That if he ignored the ache in his chest and the buzz in the back of his mind for long enough, it would dull into silence. But it hadn’t. If anything, the feeling had only grown louder—more persistent. Like a song stuck on repeat, refusing to fade out.

And now, with Theo's smug expression practically glowing as he stood a few feet away, that quiet buzzing had transformed into a full-blown siren in his skull.

You were going on a date.

With some seventh-year Ravenclaw whose name Theo didn’t bother to mention—and even if he had, Mattheo wasn’t sure he could’ve remembered it. Or wanted to. Just the thought made something in his chest twist unpleasantly.

Before he could say—or do—something he’d regret, like snapping his wand clean in two, he turned sharply on his heel, stalking down the corridor with long, angry strides, his eyes locked on the stone floor like it had personally offended him.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to move. To breathe. To not think about you with someone else.

That plan, like most of his plans lately, didn’t last long. Because just as he rounded the corner, he slammed directly into someone.

Someone warm. Someone familiar.

You.

“Oh! Matty!” you laughed, looking up at him with wide eyes and a bright grin, the kind that always knocked the breath from his lungs. “Hey, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, eyes scanning his face like you were trying to read him.

Mattheo blinked. Once. Twice. His heart was thundering now, and not just from the collision.

“I heard you have a date tonight.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them—unfiltered, unplanned, dangerously close to sounding bitter. If he hadn’t been so practiced in that calm, aloof facade, you might’ve seen the flash of something—jealousy, maybe?—in the way his jaw clenched.

You tilted your head slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded. “Yeah. Let me guess… Theo told you?” Your voice was soft, teasing, not a hint of guilt in it. Why would there be?

“We’re going to Madam Puddifoot’s. Seven o’clock.” You smiled again, though this time it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Should be a nice time.”

Mattheo’s frown deepened, his brows drawing together. “You hate that place.”

You let out a soft laugh, more reflex than genuine amusement, and gave a casual shrug. “He suggested it, and… come on, I don’t hate it.”

But you did. You hated it more than you were willing to admit out loud.

At first, Mattheo used to think it was the overwhelming amount of pink, the lacey curtains, or the heart-shaped menus. But he’d learned better over time. You loved pink. You wore bows in your hair and doodled flowers in the margins of your notes. You weren’t afraid of girly things—not at all.

What you hated was the expectation.

Madam Puddifoot’s wasn’t just a tea shop. It was a stage. Everything about it was polished to a sickening shine—the pristine tablecloths, the over-sweetened tea, the couples performing love like it was a rehearsed play. It was too perfect. Too tight. Too fake.

It reminded you of home. Of a dining room where nothing was ever out of place, but everything felt wrong. Where your parents smiled with their teeth but never with their eyes, where they praised your posture more than your passions, and where being presentable mattered more than being yourself.

Mattheo knew that. He knew how your hands trembled ever so slightly when someone spoke to you in that condescending, clipped tone that sounded a little too much like your mother’s. He knew that behind every polite smile was a breath you didn’t take fully.

But he never said anything. Never told you he noticed. Never told you that it drove him a little crazy, seeing you shrink into yourself for the comfort of others.

So instead, he nodded, forcing back the tightness in his chest and the words that threatened to spill out—words he didn’t know how to handle, let alone say aloud. He slapped on a grin, the same cocky, careless one he always wore when he needed to hide what he was really feeling.

“Well,” he drawled, voice light and teasing, “have fun, sweetheart. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but the warmth in your gaze lingered.

As you walked past him, the strap of your bag slipping from your shoulder again, Mattheo stayed rooted to the spot—wondering if the guy you were going to meet would notice the way your fingers fidgeted when you were nervous. Wondering if he’d care. Wondering if he deserved to.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

So Witches We Became

YA horror

a girl and her friends go on vacation to a house on a private Florida island, but when a strange mist and toxic tar surrounds them, trapping them there, they have to find a way to survive and/or escape

while she’s being haunted by a traumatic experience with her friend’s boyfriend - who just showed up - that she’s been unable to tell anyone about, and by a shadow from her childhood that she fears might have something to do with what’s happening

sapphic, explores complicated friendships, and surviving assault

[dante-mightdie]

Girl if you don’t give us some more low self esteem reader x price i think i’m gonna die 😫😫 genuinely one of my favs!!

john who finally convinces our lovely low self esteem reader to let him take her out and when the time comes, he’s outside your door all suited and booted. expensive bouquet in his hand as he shifts on his feet, anxiously waiting for you to open the door

it’s been ten minutes since he rung the doorbell. ten minutes since you text him saying you’d be down in a second. he understands that sometimes a lady needs time getting ready but now you aren’t even responding to his messages checking on you

he can’t see you pacing from your bathroom back to your bedroom, pulling and twisting at your outfit until it ‘fits right’. cursing under your breath each time you apply more lip gloss or mascara, only to end up smudging your makeup and ruining it

he can’t see the tears welling in your eyes each time you catch your reflection and you just can’t do it. nothing is working because of you. and john is going to see that. john is going to see you. and you just can’t have that so you leave him down there, waiting for you as you sniffle and pull at your hair in frustration

so he calls you, stepping back to see if your upstairs light was still on as the ringing drones on in his ear. and when you do finally pick up, the first thing he’s greeted with is sniffles

“h-hi john…” you say, a nervous laugh following. before he can ask if you’re okay, you speak again. “m’really sorry to do this but… uhm…”

“love?” he cuts you off, a gentle tone in his voice so you know he’s not upset. a few seconds silence follows before you sniffle again

“yeah?” he can hear the sadness in your voice, the uncertainty. his eyes flick up once more to look at the light coming from your upstairs window

“come open the door, yeah? let me see ya, doll… been waiting all week to see that pretty smile just one more time.” the heat pooling in your stomach at his sweet words causes more tears to leak down your cheeks

you don’t know why he’s any different to the other guys you’ve shut down. you don’t know why you agree to see him and shuffle downstairs to open the door

but that kind smile he throws your way when you finally open the door is enough to make your lip wobble a little more so he distracts you with the bouquet of your favourite flowers

“how did you know-?” you’re ready to question him, and he can see the little glint in your eye. runaway thoughts of maybe this guy is a stalker who’s been watching you. not some prince charming like you’d be reluctantly convincing yourself.

“I asked ya friends at the bar when I was getting your drinks. wanted to know what I should get you for our first date.” there’s a proud beam in his smile, like he knows he’s won you over a little there

“You hadn’t even asked me out yet…” you giggle slightly, sniffling before looking down at the stunning arrangement of flowers

“don’t matter, darling. I knew I was going to the second I saw you…” he states it like it’s obvious, like you should know he was going to pursue you. his hand reaches up to wipe your teary cheeks before offering you his arm to take

“hang on let me change.” you go to turn but he stops you, shaking his head and taking the initiative to wrap your arm in his

“none of that. you look beautiful…” you hate the way his words turn you to mush inside. you hate yourself for falling for it, for leaving yourself vulnerable to his sweet words and charming smile

but you don’t hate him, and the attention he gives you so you figure one date with the handsome man who bought you a drink couldn’t hurt

[bookshelftreasures]

Jealous Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst

Summary: Azriel's shadows have always been loyal, always obeyed him without question. Until now. Until they start misbehaving whenever another man so much as looks at you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,066

Notes: This is my first fic, I hope you like it! :)

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The first time it happens, you don't think much of it.

You're at Rita's with the Inner Circle, nursing a drink at the bar while Cassian and Mor dance somewhere among the crowded space. The music thrums through the air, and the conversation hums around you when a male slides into an empty seat beside you.

"Didn't think someone like you would be sitting alone," he says, flashing a grin.

You don't even get the chance to respond before a flicker of something moves between you.

The male frowns, swiping at his hair, which has suddenly transformed from being neatly styled to sticking up in wild angles, as if an invisible force had run its hands through it... aggressively.

You blink in surprise.

He mutters a curse, trying to fix it, but the moment he smooths it down, the strands spring right back up. His frustration grows, hands swiping over his head repeatedly.

"I- what the hell?" he grumbles. "Is this air cursed or something?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a laugh.

And then you feel it.

A cool, familiar brush against your wrist.

Slowly, you glance down—just in time to see a shadow curling around your fingers before slipping away.

Your stomach flips.

You don't even need to turn around to know exactly where Azriel is.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The second time it happens, it's harder to ignore.

You and Azriel are training in the House of Wing, and the session has drawn some attention—mainly from a visiting group of Illyrians who very clearly wanted to spar with you.

One in particular, a cocky warrior named Dain, is relentless. He lingers, circling the ring as Azriel corrects your stance, his gloved hands light against your arms.

"You sure you don't want a real sparring partner, sweetheart?" Dain calls, grinning. "I promise I'll go easy on you."

Azriel stills.

His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he steps back, shadows slithering at his feet. "She's training," he says evenly, but there's an obvious warning beneath the words.

Dain chuckles. "Training is nice and all, but I'd be happy to teach her a few things myself."

Something cold coils around your ankles.

Before you can react, the shadows yank. Not hard. Just enough to make you stumble backwards, right into Azriel's chest.

Your breath catches.

His hands steady you, fingers gripping your waist for a fraction of a second before he forces himself to let you.

You glance up at him, about to ask whether or not that was intentional, but his jaw is tight, hazel eyes locked on Dain.

Azriel's shadows have started to shift.

Not the lazy, fluid movements they usually have—but sharp, possessive flickers that wrap around you. One curls over your shoulder, while another drapes across your wrist, looping around like a claim.

You shiver, pulse skittering.

Dain seems to notice, too. His smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and the swirling darkness. "Uh-"

The shadows snap toward him.

Not touching—just close. Close enough to make him step back.

You swear you hear them hiss.

Dain swallows hard. "Right. I, uh, should probably-"

Azriel doesn't blink. Doesn't move.

Dain takes the hint. He all but scrambles away, muttering under his breath.

And just like that, the shadows slip away, leaving you cold.

You whip around, crossing your arms. "What was that about?"

Azriel frowns, too casual. "What was what?"

"Oh, I don't know," you say dryly. "Maybe terrorizing a man into running for his life?"

His brow furrows, like he truly doesn't know what you're talking about. "I didn't do anything."

You narrow your eyes. Then one last shadow curls around your wrist before darting away like a child caught misbehaving.

Azriel glares at it.

Your lips part. "You have got to be kidding me."

His expression darkens as more shadows flick around you, playful now.

Azriel sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. "They don't usually-"

"Get jealous?" You finish for him, holding back a smile.

Silence.

His throat bobs.

And then—quietly, almost too quiet—you hear his shadows whisper something.

A name.

Your name.

And you realize—maybe it's not just his shadows who are jealous.

Your breath hitches. Azriel's wings rustle. And he looks like he's about to bolt.

Which is just unacceptable.

You cross your arms, tilting your head back to study him. "You know, I think your shadows like me more than they like you."

Azriel exhales sharply. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" You smirk, glancing down as a shadow curl lazily around your wrist. You give it a little wiggle, and the shadow clings tighter.

Azriel scowls at it. "Traitor."

A laugh bubbles out of you. You can't help it.

The great and terrifying Shadowsinger, bested by his own shadows.

"Oh, this is too good," you say, beaming up at him. "All this time, and they've secretly been on my side."

Azriel mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse. His wings twitch again. His shadows flick in annoyance—except the ones still clinging to you, moving to curl around your waist like they never want to let go.

You bite back a grin. "I mean, it makes sense." You gesture vaguely at them. "They probably just think I'd be a much better master."

Azriel gives you a deadpan stare. "That's not how this works."

"I don't know," you hum, pretending to consider it. "They seem pretty happy right now."

As if to prove your point, one shadow playfully loops around your fingers.

Azriel glowers. "You're encouraging them."

You give him an innocent smile. "Would I do that?"

He sighs, but you catch it—the way the corner of his mouth twitches. The way his gaze softens, just a little.

And then, so softly you almost miss it, he murmurs, "They have good taste, at least."

Your breath catches.

Your teasing falters for half a second before you recover. "So, you admit they like me more?"

Azriel exhales, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

You grin. "And you love it."

He doesn't answer. But the way his shadows linger—curling, warm, content—tells you everything you need to know.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

Cassian walks in moments later, takes one look at Azriel's shadows practically cuddling you, and immediately points.

"I knew it!" He boasts.

Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose. His shadows flick toward Cassian, clearly unimpressed.

And you?

You just laugh.

Because really—Azriel might deny it all he wants, but his shadows?

They don't lie.

[harryspet]

rough hands, soft chains [3] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, rafe is HUGE, pain with sex, fingering, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

In which you're not sure you truly have what it takes to "accommodate" your new fiancé.

word count: 4.2k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

“Why do you insist on stealing my fiance?” 

Wheezie looked up at her brother from her place on the carpet. You were placing the last hair roller around her freshly curled hair, pinning it place. The two of you had spent the last two hours giving each other spa treatments, evidenced by the face mask on Wheezie’s face, and the under eye patches on yours. It seemed obvious to you what you were up to but Rafe’s face scrunched in confusion, maybe even annoyance, at the sight before him. 

“We’re having a girls night!” Wheezie protested, “Get out!” 

You blinked, glancing between the two siblings, trying to gauge whether this was actual tension or just their usual back-and-forth. Navigating the Cameron family dynamic was a constant puzzle, and you hated feeling caught in the middle of it. You genuinely liked all of them in different ways.

Well, almost all of them.

You weren’t sure what it was that you felt for Rafe. He seemed to force all the feelings out of you, prying his way into your brain and into your heart. 

“You can’t hold her hostage, Wheeze,” Her brother raised his voice back, “I need to talk to her, you know, about adult things. Shit you wouldn’t get.”

“Adult things, gross,” You could practically hear Wheezie’s smirk, “I’m sure Y/N would rather hang out with me than do adult things with you.” 

The meaning initially passed over your head. You looked at Rafe innocently, “Y/N?” His shift in focus to you made you panic for a moment. 

“Oh, well … we were going to do some meditation before bed too.” 

Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile that couldn’t possibly be genuine, “Fine, just come get me when you’re done.” 

The way he slammed Wheezie’s door shut also gave you the impression that he wasn’t happy. 

“Ignore him,” Wheezie said quickly. You admired her defiance sometimes. Rafe didn’t ever to seem to really rattle her the way he did to you. 

Over the past few weeks, she had become your guide to surviving life in this house. Out of everyone, she understood Rafe best. Sarah barely came around, and when she did, the way she looked at you—pitying, almost regretful—made you uncomfortable. You hated it. You’d rather spend time with Rose, who had taken you wedding dress shopping just the day before, only to scold you for picking something too “revealing.” She’d given you a long-winded speech about modesty and the importance of upholding the Cameron image. You were marrying into an exceptionally wealthy family, after all. You had to act like it.

But Wheezie? Wheezie was simply happy to have you there, to welcome you into her world. And slowly, you were beginning to imagine this as your new life. The thought didn’t seem so terrible when you pictured Wheezie as your sister.

It all came crashing down on you a few days after the incident with Rafe in the barn. You weren’t allowed to sleep in the same bed until you were officially married, Rose’s rule, but that didn’t keep Rafe from your bedroom in the middle of the night.

And when you woke, sore and spent, the weight of something unfamiliar pressed against your left hand.

A diamond.

Wheezie was fast asleep when you finally slipped out of her bedroom. In pink, fuzzy socks, you padded across the hallway towards Rafe’s room. You only knocked once before the door was opened and you were stepping inside. 

In contrast to yours, Rafe’s room was dark and brooding with darker woods and deep navy walls. A sturdy mahogony desk perched in the corner next to a leather armchair. There were no dainty florals or soft touches. His bed, much larger than yours, had the sheets strewn about, a possible indication of sleepless nights or …other activities. A few forgotten whiskey glasses sat on in nightstand. The only source of light in the room was from the soft, yellow glow of his desk lamp. 

It always felt intimate being in Rafe’s room, like you were completely in his world. Your gaze lifted, drawn to him as if by instinct. Shirtless, his toned chest and broad shoulders were carved in the dim light, his presence overwhelming in a way that sent a shiver through you.

“Turn around, darlin’.” 

Innocently, you obeyed his command. You were only confused for a moment. You yelped, feeling the cool air against the back of your legs as Rafe slipped down your long, silk pajamas. 

You should’ve known Rafe didn’t actually need to talk to you. 

Lifting you by your waist, Rafe carried you over to the bed swiftly, leaving your bottoms behind. He always laid you down gently but the firmness of his grip left no room for discussion. He knew exactly where he wanted your body, what position he desired to have you in. You were starting to get used to his routine. He undressed you, placed you where he wanted, and it wasn’t long before he was inside of you. 

Tonight, he wanted you on your stomach, your head resting at the edge of the bed. You didn’t dare look back at him, it always unsettled you more when you caught a glimpse of just how imposing he was. Instead, you kept your gaze forward, fixated on the shadows and darkness in the window. You felt the weight of his legs straddling yours, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your bottom before delivering a few sharp, deliberate slaps. A shiver ran through you as his fingers hooked into your panties, dragging them aside with ease, exposing you to him entirely.

He spit into his hand and you jumped again when you felt his fingers teasing your warm center. For an excruciatinly long time, he placed a strong hand on your upper back, keeping you pinned as he sunk his fingers inside of you. He had called it 'warming you up' the last time. His pace was slow, deliberate. You were biting down onto the comforter by the time his third digit pushed inside. Now, you could happily take two of his fingers. You’d like sex with Rafe much more if it simply involved two of his fingers pushing in an out of you. When he added that circling motion on your sensitive bud, you could reach that beautiful peak quickly. But the third finger was the closest thing he could use to prepare you for his size. 

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet firm, a response to your soft whimpers, “Relax. You make it worse when you’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” You rushed out before you bit down on your lip hard, “Rafe, um, can you…” 

He pushed deeper and you reached out to grab the wooden bed frame in front of you, “Can I what, darlin’?”

“T-Touch me?” You asked, unsure, wincing as the feeling of being stretched, “Please.” 

In response, he adjusted your hips, pulling them up from the bed, still three fingers deep inside of you, before he started to circle your clit with the thumb of his other hand. You took in rapid breaths as you adjusted to the sensation, the pleasure now beginning to mix in with the discomfort. 

“Think you can come like this, baby?” 

“Uh,” You pressed your face into the mattress, your words failing you, and soon all that was left were sobs. 

“Try, baby,” You heard him say, “Squeeze my fingers.”

You had never considered that "down there" was a muscle—until Rafe. Obeying his command, you imagined yourself squeezing his fingers, and the response was immediate. Your body reacted instinctively, heightening your pleasure and pushing you toward release. It was overwhelming. Almost painful. But an orgasm nonetheless. Your first one with Rafe had taken you so much by surprise that Rafe had to cover your face with a pillow to keep you from waking up the entire house. 

Tonight, you muffled your own screaming, pressing your face further into the blankets. He left you no time to recover. As soon as your body was more … accepting, he started to push himself inside of you. Panicked, you reached back to push at his hip, an attempt at requesting for him to slow his pace. He felt even larger in this position, and it didn’t take long to realize he was pressing against a barrier deep inside you.

You had to accommodate him. He was your future husband and you had be able to lie with him. He deserved pleasure too and how else would you be able to have kids one day? You wanted a family again, right? 

One day, it would get easier. Rafe would make sure of it. He would help you, guide you, until your body learned to take him without resistance.

By the time Rafe reached his climax, you were a sweaty, tear-streaked mess. He had promised it would get easier, yet once again, you were left aching and sore. When he finally lifted his weight off you, your body remained frozen in place.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shifting to the other end of the bed. You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled in, his head hitting the pillow.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yes?” you replied, your voice shaky.

“Go pee,” he ordered, his tone firm yet drowsy.

“Why?”

“Just go,” he repeated, exhaling sharply. “I’m fucking tired.”

It took every ounce of strength, but you pushed yourself up from the bed. You felt his eyes on you as you waddled to his bathroom door, still able to feel him inside of you, white stuff dripping down your thighs. 

Inside, you flipped on the bathroom light, squinting as your eyes attempted to adjust. Your legs trembled as you lowered yourself onto the toilet. You heard Rafe shifting in bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable. He was already drifting off, unbothered, while you sat there, trying to collect yourself. 

After a moment, you reached for some toilet paper, dabbing at the mess between your thighs. Your body still felt raw, stretched beyond what you thought possible. Flushing the toilet, you moved to the sink, cupping cold water in your hands and splashing it on your face. 

You turned off the light and stepped back into the bedroom. Still glistening with a layer of sweat, he laid down with an arm over his face as he breathed steadily and quietly. You found your pajama bottoms sitting by the door and carefully put them back over your legs. 

“Y/N?” You were reaching for the handle of his bedroom door and paused. 

“Yeah?”

“Stay in here with me.”

“We’re not supposed to–”

“I’m a grown man and you’re my fucking fiance.”

He always spoke so sharply and in a way that left no room for arguing. Sometimes, that anger and frustration wasn’t directed at you but that didn’t make you immune from feeling it. The last thing you wanted was to cause any problem’s with his parents. They’d made it very clear that they expected the two of you to sleep separately until the wedding. 

Slowly, you turned to face him. He was still sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling. 

“Stay,” he repeated, softer this time, the demand still there.

Silently, you padded over to his bed again. He lifted the sheets and carefully, you climbed into the bed, beside him. 

“There you go, darlin’” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple as he tucked you beneath him, his weight pinning you into place. “Right where you belong.”

Seeing how much happier Juliet was at the Cameron ranch made you question why you didn’t feel the same as her. 

Late afternoon sun bathed the Cameron state in warm gold as you rode beside Sarah Cameron. Juliet moved beneath you with ease, but every step sent a dull ache through your thighs. You winced, shifting slightly in the saddle in an attempt to ease the soreness.

Sarah, riding beside you on her white mare, caught it immediately, “You good?” She asked, concern on her face. 

You nodded quickly, “Oh, I’m fine. I just haven’t rode in awhile.” 

It hurt to even slide on your tight jeans that morning thanks to the bruising on your inner thighs and the soreness in your middle. You turned your head, watching as the barn got farther from your view. You and Sarah had left John B. and Rafe hunched over a work bench, repairing worn bridles and saddles. 

Rafe had let you tag along for the day, surprising you both when you found Sarah already there with John B., leaning against a stall with her arms crossed. The moment she saw you, she swung effortlessly onto her horse, flashing you a grin. “Come on. Juliet is yours, right?,” she urged, nudging her mare forward. “Let’s leave the boys to their busy work."

You looked to Rafe for permission, of course, and took his rolled eyes and quick dismissal as a yes. 

Now, she caught your quick glances back towards the barn, “My brother isn’t hurting you, is he?” 

Her words took you by complete surprise. Your fingers tensed on Juliet’s reins, pulling too sharply, and for a moment, the mare tossed her head in protest, “Sorry, Julie,” You said, “Uhm, what? N-no. Why … why would you think that?” 

She gave you a look that was hard to read and your horses continued alongside each other, “I’m sure you’ve gotten to know what he’s like,” She said, “Do you … think he’s a nice guy?”

“He’s…” You rushed to answer, wanting to reassure her, but the words got tangled in your head. “He’s nice to me,” you finally said, nodding like that would make it more true. “Sometimes he, like, talks really directly? In a way that… I don’t know, kinda hurts my feelings? But I know he doesn’t mean to be mean.”

“Huh,” Sarah took in your words, and you smiled, trying to ease the tension in the conversation, “He’s a lot for most people. To be honest, I don’t know if you’re what I pictured for the girl he’d finally settle down with.”

“Oh,” You said, trying to not to let the way your heart panged with hurt show on your face, “Yeah, maybe. I guess I’m not very strong… or the smartest person.” 

Sarah’s eyes softened, her expression shifting from the guarded look she’d worn before. “Hey, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly, pulling her horse a little closer to yours. “I just... I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I know how confusing and lonely it is. And it might make you feel better to get wrapped up with Rafe but it’s also good to have your own life. Maybe your own friends?”

She searched your gaze and you felt your throat tighten and tears threatening to escape, “Wheezie’s my friend, at least.”

“Wheezie’s great,” Sarah said which made you smile sadly, “I have some friends. John B and I do. They live on the otherside of Kildare but I always try to meet up with them. They’re cool and they’re actually our age. I’d love to introduce you to them.”

Your heart gave a small, hesitant flutter. “That would be fun,” you said quietly, and for the first time in a while, you entertained the thought of something else, something new. 

“Do you drink?” She asked after a moment of just enjoying the breeze and watching the tall, swaying grass. 

“I have before,” You said feeling a little sheepish, “Just not enough to say I like it, I guess. Why?”

“When I go over there, we usually drink, watch a movie, play games, that kind of thing. It’s really fun. You don’t have to drink but I think you’ll like it.” 

“Does Rafe know your friends?”

Sarah snorted, “Uh, yeah. He wouldn’t want to come with us. Don’t mention it to him yet, though, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” You agreed, “Sarah, do you think you could come next time I go dress shopping? Rose is a little…”

“Uptight,” She finished, “Yeah, sure. That would be fun.”

Your opinion of Sarah Cameron had shifted quickly and for the better. 

“Like I said before, you’re moving too fast with her, Rafe.” 

Rafe should’ve known that his father didn’t invite him to breakfast at the diner in town for father-son bonding time. Nor was it a business meeting. He would’ve preferred either over a lecture. He was stuck, unable to really raise his voice, due to the public setting which Ward knew undoubtedly. The diner was a small place, the kind of spot where everyone knew each other’s names and half the town seemed to gather before heading off to the fields or pastures. 

It was when they got back into Ward’s SUV that Rafe could finally say what he felt. “This is micromanagement. You’re fucking micromanaging me, Dad! I did what you wanted and you’re upset because I’m not doing it exactly the way you want.”

Ward’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tight Rafe thought it might break. “I need you to get it through your thick skull that you don’t know everything, Rafe.”

“This is just Rose and her bullshit–”

“It’s disrespectful and you know that. We’re being woken up at all times of the night. Not to mention the girl is walking around with hickies and bruising. What’s that gonna look like to people in town? We took in that girl! People will think we’re using her. It’s not a good look.” 

Ward started up the car and pulled away quickly, the tires kicking up dust as they left the quiet, small-town streets behind. Kildare was a ranching community, where everyone’s business was their business. Rafe couldn’t do anything without people noticing. 

“None of this will matter after the wedding. I don’t know, Dad, I guess I just don’t give a shit anymore what other people think.”

“You won’t take over the business if that’s how you see things.”

“Dad–”

“And you won’t get the Ironwood house. We’ve talked about this endlessly,” Rafe’s fist hit the paneling of the car door and he squeezed his eyes tightly as the anger passed through him, radiating through him, warming his skin, “You get the house under the conditions that Rose and I set.” 

“That house is mine. You know that Mom wanted it that way,” Rafe argued with clenched fists, “You don’t get to control that, Dad.” Rafe’s voice was sharp, raw, but there was a tremor beneath the surface. The Ironwood house had been promised to him, but Ward had always been the one to hold the strings, dangling that future in front of him like a carrot on a stick. “I earned that house. I’ve worked for it. You can’t just take it away.”

About twenty miles from the Cameron estate, nestled along a winding dirt road that cut through the sprawling countryside, sat the Ironwood house. The house wasn’t as grand as the Cameron estate it had a quiet but rugged charm. It had once belonged to a competitor before the Cameron family had purchased the land after his passing.

Ward’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles pale in the dim light. “I’m not taking anything from you, Rafe. But if you want to go off and make mistakes, you know, like getting that girl pregnant just a few weeks after you met her or embarrassing our family, then there will be consequences.”

Rafe nodded his head though inside he was seething, “I got it, Dad,” Rafe rubbed his face in his hands, his jaw clenched tightly, “You win.” 

You fucking win, Rafe thought, for now. 

Oh, you were perfect for him. Rafe kept quiet throughout dinner that night but that was because he was intently watching you. The way you confidently wore that pink, gingham dress that was cut way too low, to the point that your breasts were practically spilling from it. When you caught Rafe glancing at you, you’d flash him a shy smile. Lips shining with gloss and sparkles, Rafe imagined smudging all your makeup. 

He’d been working on training your hole to take him, he hadn’t considered training your mouth yet. You seemed more comfortable, making conversation with both Wheezie and Sarah. The way you carried yourself, effortlessly making them laugh, was different, more natural.

It would be good if you liked this family but Rafe couldn’t help that his mind wandered to the family he would make. His father's attempts to control him, especially in the bedroom, only made things worse. It triggered something deep within him. It was his god-given right as a man to fuck you in all the ways he wanted, with or without protection. You were his. That had been true ever since he put a ring on your left hand. 

After dinner, Rafe pulled you upstairs into Ward’s office. It was reckless, he knew that, but he was clinging onto that sense of control. 

“What are we doing in here?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Rafe replied, his eyes tracking the shift in your expression as the realization hit. The fear in your face made him harder than he already was, and he had to undo his belt. “Go sit on the desk,” he instructed, gesturing to the large mahogany desk in the center of the room.

“But that’s your dad’s desk,” you hesitated, a frown tugging at your lips. “Isn’t that, like, weird?”

Rafe shot you a warning look, and without another word, you scrambled across the room toward his desk. He followed closely, closing the distance between you. “It’s your fault,” he muttered, his voice rough as he crossed the room too. “Look at what you're wearing. You’re practically begging to get fucked.”

“I wasn’t—” you started to protest.

“You were,” Rafe cut you off, his tone final. “You wore that dress for me, didn’t you? Or were you looking for attention from someone else?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Rafe loved the panic he saw in your eyes, the way the few thoughts you could hold in your head seemed to swirl, struggling to make sense of what was happening.

“I …I didn’t wear it for anyone else.”

“You wore it for me, then.”

“It was for you,” You spoke in a hesitant whisper. Your head tilted, and Rafe could see the uncertainty in your eyes. Still, the words sent a rush of heat through him. Rafe lifted you up by your hips, placing you on the desk, right on top of manila folders and Ward’s important paperwork. 

"Good girl, baby," he murmured, his hand finding the hem of your dress, lifting it. "Now, don’t act like you don’t want this." 

“Rafe, I’m still sore,” You said as Rafe slid your panties down your thigh.

“I’ll be quick,” Rafe assured you, “I’ve been halfway there since you walked in the dining room earlier.”

It wasn’t that Rafe didn’t understand the toll that he took on your body. He cared, he certainly didn’t want to break you, but he also knew that you could handle more than you could wrap your mind around. Maybe, he was a bit selfish and enjoyed the sight of him slowly fucking you, his huge girth sliding in and out of you, stretching you to the point of sobbing. 

He wanted you to feel empty without him. He wanted you to become so used to him that another man or even your own tiny fingers couldn’t satisfy your needs. 

“Relax,” Rafe said, watching the ways your eyes darted between his blue ones and then back down to his length, “You’re okay, darlin’.”

Rafe pushed your shoulders down until your elbows were propped up against the desk before he grabbed your legs, tilting your hips up. He spit directly against your hole before spitting into his palm, coating his hard length with his own saliva. 

He watched the way your face scrunched in pain as he started to push inside of you. Like he taught you before, you started to take deep breaths in and out, “Good girl, just like I taught you. You’re okay,” Rafe cooed as you squeezed him tight. 

Those deep breaths quickly became shallow ones as he stretched you. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s too big–” You spoke suddenly, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, please. Please, Rafe.” 

“Baby, it’s okay-”

“Please, please, please. Please. Please. Not okay. Not okay. I can’t, I can’t.”

Rafe surprised even himself when he paused. The look on your face reminded him of the time in the car, the first day you met. It was hard to watch. He’d pushed you too far, you were starting to have a panic attack. His chest tightened as he pulled back, his mind scrambling. He tucked himself back into his briefs. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Slowly, he reached for your shoulder, lifting it carefully to help you sit up. 

“Shit, we can stop, okay?” Rafe said in a voice he didn’t recognize, “Fuck, you need to breathe, Y/N.” 

He pulled you closer, letting your head rest on his chest, as you tried to control your hiccups and heavy breathing. Listening to it made his own breath feel tight in his lungs. Stroking your back, he tried to quell the storm inside of you. Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest as he held you close, the guilt gnawing at him, “Jesus …I’m sorry, baby.”

reblog WITH a comment about the chapter to be added to the taglist :)

[honey-pages]

Quick and Quiet - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Quick public sex in a spare room in the lab, possessive Viktor.

1.1k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Dom Viktor. Posessive. Dirty Talk. Creampie.

It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the lab and research centre full swing. You and Viktor had been overseeing some minor work that needed doing but nothing too pressing. It was a regular day, people busying past with arms loaded with paper work, inattentive to the growing sexual tension between the two of you. 

You knew that when you got back to his study, things would unfold. You decide to tease him, its only fair that he has to be just as frustrated as you are. You spot an empty room off to the side of one of the main corridors, and nudge him towards the door as you approach.

Viktor looks at you strangely, questioning what you are doing, before catching on.

He chuckles subtly, “Oh really?”

He pushes the door open with his hand and you both quickly step inside, closing it behind you and manoeuvring out of view. He pins you to the wall, his arms on either side of your head. He leans down to kiss you, moving backwards at the last second to make you kiss at the open air.

“Desperate” He mocks, this time allowing the kiss. 

“Maybe I just want you Vik” You smile up at him

“Right here?”

“Right here”

Viktor’s hand trails down the side of your body, feeling you, weighing up the consequences of getting caught. He stops over your waist, lowering to grope at your underwear through your clothes. He presses at your clit, applying just the right amount to have you reactively grinding at his hand.

“You want me to fuck you here, where anyone could hear us?”

You respond by pulling him back into a kiss. Viktor breaks it, turning you around and pinning your hips to a table. You were only just out of view of the door, too close.

“Quietly”, Viktor purred in your ear. 

“People will see Vik-“

“They’ll hear first”

You feel the length of him rest at the side of your thigh. He presses himself to the back of you. He holds one hand on your hip and the other on the edge of the table he has you pressed against. 

“You say the words, and I stop. Though I can guarantee someone else will hear them first”

“Don’t stop-“

He muffles your mouth with his hand, having heard all he needed. He bends you at the waist, positioning you over the table. Viktor keeps his mouth at your neck, faintly whispering to you, almost inaudible, breathy.

“Keep quiet and take it.”

Viktor slides your trousers down your thighs, allowing them to pool around your knees. He works his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down. You feel exposed, realising your nakedness and proximity to the door. If someone would look through, you would not be hidden fully. It would be obvious at first sight. They would know exactly what you and Viktor were doing. 

He unzips and manages his trousers and underwear down to his mid thigh. There is a growing warmth as you feel his cock rest against you. He grinds it on you slowly, reminding you of the familiar length and feel. The heat of him in the cold room makes you more aware of the warmth of yourself and how when you shift your weight, you could feel the wetness slide between your thighs. 

“I didn’t realise you so publicly wanted to be my whore, (Y/N)”

You grind back, his cock pressing against you, a little higher and he may just push in. He lines himself up.

“So eager” He nibbles at your ear, the hand covering your mouth spreading to insert a finger between your lips and against your tongue. 

You swirl your tongue over the tip and he grinds forward, thrusting into you to the middle of his length. You moan against his palm.

There are footsteps from outside as people walk further down the corridor, it feels too good to care.

Viktor slowly thrusts in and out of you, though not deeply. You are completely aware of how deep he usually is, how he normally fills you. You groan in frustration, trying to push back, to make him fill you.

He stops moving, you feel his grin against your skin, his teeth against your neck

“If I knew it was this easy to take you, I would have done this years ago. All it takes is a little bit of danger, and listen to the sound you make”

Viktor pulls all the way out, and pushes all the way in, creating a wet slapping sound. You body is betraying you, dripping wetness down your thigh. Viktor removes his hand from your mouth and you make a silent promise to not give away your location. 

His hand replaces at the back of your neck and he pushes you gently down to the table, bent completely over it. He grips at your waist. His thrusts become more rhythmic, the sounds of the two of you become repetitive and he finds a comfortable pace. 

“You feel amazing, (Y/N). This is mine, you understand?”

“Yes, Vik-“ You respond, trying to keep a grip on your sound level.

He is speeding up, the noise must be audible to the outside. He is panting and whimpering, grabbing at the sides of you.

"Mine?”

“Yours”

“You belong-“ He starts, losing himself in the pleasure “-to me”

“Viktor-“

“Shh-“

You feel wetter than previously. The table was rough and sharp at your waist but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything, you looked around to the door window - no one was there. Would you really have cared if they were? If they watched the way Viktor fucked you?

Your hands are holding onto the far side of the table, fingers white from the force of his thrusts. He buries a hand in your hair, pulling back your neck, forcing your head upwards, tilting to watch him over your shoulder. 

“You’re mine.” He mumbles as he fucks hard and fast.

“They’ll hear-“ You try to protest, a blush rising.

“Then they’ll hear me cum in you” 

His hips are wild, he’s filling you deeply. He is slowing slightly, becoming more powerful in each swing. You feel him twitch and he begins to unravel.

“You’re-“ He manages, louder than he should have.

On his next thrust, you feel him filling you with thick cum, still grinding and pushing between spasms. He maintains his rhythm, coating the whole length of your insides, fucking it into you. 

“Im yours Viktor” You finish his sentence, barely able to string it together.

The footsteps return, closer, faster. 

You both look wide-eyed pulling up your clothes and fixing your appearances, damp with a sheen of sweat and a manic look. The gravity of what you just did has struck. Viktor is still catching his breath. You feel the mess he has made begin to seep into the fabric of your underwear. 

You both make a quick exit, red faced, heading straight for Viktor’s study.

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz.

[fortunapre]

PAIRING: hamzah x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and hamzah have been close friends forever, but during one of your routine movie nights, things get heated and confessions are made…

WARNINGS: 18+, no piv, dry-humping, fingers do things, making out, cussing, female reader, mentions y/n

this was supposed to be fluffy but fortunately for you i think im ovulating

[PT. 1] _fortunapre’s.iphone.series_ 2.2k words

“First of all, what game are you playing?” You asked, grabbing both bowls of ice cream that you prepared and heading to the couch where you and Hamzah were watching Star Wars.

“Uh, does it matter? This is a once in a lifetime chance I'm giving you to be in my video!” Hamzah teased, making a face like he thought you were insane.

You playfully hit his shoulder and laughed. “Well considering some of your videos are… questionable to say the least, I’m gonna need more context.”

Hamzah just spooned ice cream in his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. While you laughed and looked back towards the TV, he kept his eyes on you, admiring. Tonight was one of your guys’ monthly ice cream nights that you started since you met about 6 years ago. Ever since you were teenagers, you both have been side-by-side. The best of friends.

Hamzah took notice of your pajama shorts, large t-shirt, and messy hair. He had no idea how your most disheveled look still made him stare.

You felt his gaze and looked at him, but before you caught him, Hamzah looked back at the tv.

Now it was your turn to admire. Hamzah had always looked effortlessly hot in your eyes, but movie nights especially. Something about his careless look made your heartbeat a little faster. Like this view of him, in pajamas, with strands of dark, curly hair flying everywhere, was only made for you. Especially when he wore his glasses.

This secret staring match lasted the whole movie.

Usually, when movie night ended and the icecream was finished, Hamzah would talk a bit and then head home. It always killed him to leave you.

However, this time, Hamzah planned on telling you something he’d been hiding from since he met you. He wouldn’t back out of it this time

To stall, and make the night continue, he started with a simple converstation. “Wait, so do you want to be in the video or not, ‘cause I completely understand if it’s too much. I know me and Martin can get, like, kinda weird but it's what the viewers like so…”

Hamzah was rambling and you knew that if you didn’t stop him now he’d go on forever. You leaned over, and quickly put your hand over his mouth, shutting him up. You were both already situated with your legs basically pressed together, so reaching him was no problem.

“You’re rambling, Hamzah.” you laughed and kept your hand over his mouth. “And yeah I guess I’ll be in a video.” You tried to seem bossy by pointing a finger into his chest “But it we better be playing Sims or Episode.”

Then you realised just how many places you were touching him…

Teasing in your guys’ relationship was the norm, but recently, it has started to feel more like flirting than friendly teasing. There’s been a lot more… tension.

He stopped talking when you covered his mouth and smiled underneath your hand.

Recently, everything you do has felt more like flirting, now that you think about it.

At first it was innocent, a few touches and remarks, because it felt comfortable. Now, though, something hotter brimmed underneath everything.

Maybe you took it too far sometimes, with very obvious innuendos and such, but you couldn’t help yourself when it came to him. However, in the back of your mind, there was that voice reminding you that Hamzah is probably just being friendly and you were overthinking it.

You didn't want to take that chance, so you never brought up the obvious shift between you two.

You kept your hand on his mouth a bit longer than was probably normal, but the look that Hamzah was giving was almost magnetic. There was something in his eyes that was brand new, and raw. He lightly grabbed your wrist and moved to hold your hand instead, his eyes still locked on yours.

It was silent until he opened his mouth, deciding to speak up.

Now, Hamzah decided. Now he would tell you. “Y/n, there’s something I’ve been meaning to-”

“You should really start wearing your glasses more.” You winced internally at the accidental compliment/confession that slipped out.

“What?” He had a physical reaction to your sudden outburst and started laughing. “What’re you talking about? My glasses? What, why?” He seemed super nervous , and you could tell by his familiar awkward smirk from when we he’s flustered. If only he knew what that slight upturn of his lips did to you.

His laugh, your proximity to each other, and his just overall look meant your insides were basically jelly. He was still holding your hand, and once you realized it, the rosy blush spreading up your neck was inevitable.

“Don’t tease, you obviously know why.” You answered, looking away to try and hide the blush.

“Yeah?” He asked, in the most sensual voice you’ve ever heard from him, while looking down at your intertwined hands.

You were extremely surprised by the sudden deepness of his voice but decided to hide your reaction. Instead, you rolled your eyes and sat up to take your bowls to the sink. You needed to get away before you let your impulsive thoughts get the best of you.

He let you walk away, contrary to what his mind was reeling with, slowly dropping your hand as you moved away.

He watched you as you walked, with his eyes on the way your shorts were slightly riding up, and how your legs were on full display.

You set the dishes in the sink and turned to head back but were surprised with Hamzah’s towering figure.He followed you into the kitchen and was standing right infront of you. He was situated with one hand on the back counter and the other on the island, blocking your way out.

Instead of arguing, you just put a hand on your hip, and looked at him. Nervousness consumed your mind as you fully realized just how close to you Hamzah was standing. Instead of moving away, however, you stayed close, catching his familiar, minty scent. You looked back into his eyes-His eyes that held the exact same searing gaze as earlier. He seemed to make nonverbal promises. Of what? You weren’t sure but how he was looking was almost dirty.

“Y/n, what I was saying earlier…” Hamzah began again but briefly stopped for a second and looked at you expectantly.

“What?” You asked confusedly why he stopped.

“Oh, just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to rudely interrupt me again.”

You scoffed and faked hurt, “rudely?! I complimented you!”

“Yeah, I guess.” His smirk was back and his eyes were on yours. If it was anyone else, eye contact would have made you look away. Except Hamzah isn’t just anyone, and his eyes were like pools you could drown in.

He moved an inch closer, testing the waters. When he saw a slight pink to your cheeks at his closeness, he gained sudden confidence.

“Don’t let me leave tonight.” He suddenly spoke.

You were taken aback with his words, “What, like lock the doors? Are you going to transform at midnight or something?”

He let out a breathy laugh, but his tone never shifted.

“You know what I mean, Y/n.” A deep breath. “Let me stay. Let me show you what I…”

“Hamzah. Of course you can stay over. I’d never push you-”

“No, y/n that’s not…”

A beat of silence passed until you softly spoke up.

“What, Hamzah?”

“Let me show you what I think about everytime I’m near you.”

His words were ringing in your ears and your entire body almost had a physical reaction to what he was insinuating.

“Let me show you what I’ve been imagining for the past 5 damn years, Y/n.”

You were stunned, because 5 years? That’s almost for as long as you’ve known him.

“5 years…” You tested the words out loud and it was like an award winning melody to your ears.

“Yeah, 5 years. Actually scratch that. 6 years.” He stood closer, and spoke quieter. “Since I saw you for the first time I’ve been holding back from you. From admitting how I feel because I was afraid I might lose you.”

Like a dam, you broke. Anything along those lines were exactly what you’ve been wishing for, and here those words were, out in the open.

Finally,

You grabbed the front of his hoodie with surprising strength and pulled him down to your level.

Before you could follow through and kiss him, you just held his lips near yours instead.

You both shared one breath, staring at each others' lips. You stayed like this, too afraid to ruin the moment if you went too fast. Just the whisper of Hamzah’s lips against yours filled you with an insane amount of need.

However, Hamzah took the invite of your pouty lips and closed the distance for you.

Unable to contain the years of built up desire, you kiss his back. Hard.

He almost stumbles forward as you pull his hoodie closer to you. He smirks into the kiss at your eagerness and you swear that simple action could make you drop to your knees if he wasn’t holding your waist.

His fingers were digging into the fabric of your t-shirt, basically molding into your waist. It’s like you skipped the slow-getting-hotter part of the kiss and immediately skipped to fully making out.

Hamzah licked the inside of your mouth, making you release a quiet mewl from the back of your throat.

He parted from your lips, barely. Just enough distance to catch your breath before he dove back in. It was almost feral, the way he moved from your lips to your cheek to your jaw. He grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you up. Your immediate reaction was to wrap your legs around him and hold him as close as possible.

Right now, being chest-to-chest, literally holding one another wasn’t close enough.

He slowly carried you back to the couch while making small licks and bites along your throat.

He placed you on the couch and immediately followed, covering your body with his.

“Y/n…” He spoke your name with a deep rumble, into your shoulder before kissing your pulse under your jaw.

You unlatched your lips to take off his glasses and setting them beside you. You would have loved for him to keep them on but you could tell how annoyed he was getting with them when he tried to kiss you.

He watched your movement carefully, and let a mental picture of how hot you looked under him.

When you came back to him, he immediately put his lips back to the spot on your neck that he figured out was the sweet spot where you made the most noise.

“Hamzah..” you answered, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it up, signalling you want him to take it off.

“You sure?” He asked you, looking in your eyes for the first time since you started kissing. He took note of your red cheeks and matching swollen lips. He was so absolutely obsessed with you.

“Hamzah, If you couldn’t tell, I also have feelings for you and want you to go back to kissing me.” You teased him. “Without your shirt though” you smiled innocently and pulled his shirt up to reveal his chest.

“Such a smartass.” He smiled and pulled his shirt completely off and discarded it somewhere behind you. He was still smiling as he reconnected your lips, and the feel of his grin in your kiss made you smile as well.

The whole thing was unreal.

You felt so…happy in the moment, like nothing could compare. Like this is all you’d ever wanted and needed.

He slowly lifted the hem of your shirt as well, exposing your soft skin and thin bra. He could see the peaks of your nipples poking through the fabric and the image made him want to kiss every part of you he’s never seen.

To be truthful, any sight of you made him want to kiss you like that, but specifically right now, his pulse was very prominent in the lower part of his body from the current view.

You sunk your teeth lightly into his lower lip, and he replied by kissing you harder. He couldn’t hold back his desire at one point, when you started letting out breathy moans into his mouth- he jerked his hips against yours. You really felt just how much he needed you just then. The small pressure from his growing erection against you made you throw your head back and grind along lift your hips to meet his.

He started slowly grinding into you until you were full on dry-humping each other.

If Hamzah felt like this with clothes on, you only wondered what he felt like-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hamzah grabbing your ass, then moving his hands along the back of your thighs. He lifted them up so you could wrap them around his back.

He rutted faster against you, and you swear you could feel his full length against you now. Your panties were soaked at this point and the wet spot growing on the front of his grey sweats showed that you had the same effect on him.

He sighed into your ear, both arms now propped on each side of your head. “Fuck, i’m gonna come in my pants from you, gorgeous.”

You let out a soft whine at the pet name and dragged your nails down his back, undoubtedly leaving scars. “Then just come like this, Hamzah. Show me what I mean to you. Like you prosmised.”

Erotic noises escaped your lips from the insane friction. You arched and dragged your hands back up his back and into his soft curls, tugging lightly.

“God, why haven’t we done this before” Hamzah sounded pained as he whispered, shutting his eyes tight from the upcoming sensation.

“I have no fucking idea. We were both too much of pussies to admit anything.” You replied in between short breaths.

He chuckled, but basically choked on his laugh when you reached into his pants to properly feel him.

“Yeah,” He agreed, and kissed you roughly, smashing his lips into yours and making your teeth clash at times.

“Fuck I’m..” You started to warn him, but he already knew.

“Me, too.”

He shifted the smallest bit but for some reason his new position made the friction ten times stronger. Hamzah’s hard bulge was hitting the perfect spot that made your panties rub against your clit in a way that made you gasp.

“Holy shit Hamzah” you gasped and arched your back to meet his chest. He laid more of his weight on yours, feeling your nipples through your bra.

“wait before we…” He looked you in your eyes and silently asked to take your bra off by slowly pulling down a strap from your shoulder.

“take it off of me, Hamzah.”

He wasted no time and took off your bra, exposing the peaks of your nipples. He immediately moved a hand to play with your breasts, giving each of them attention. “God, you're beautiful. even better than I imagined.”

His words made you want more so you arched you back again, making him shut his eyes tight at the friction.

“Fuck, baby,” he said softly.

He kept one hand next to your head, where he held himself up and moved the other from your breast to rub you through your shorts. “Hamzah please..please touch me”

He slipped a teasing finger past the waistband of your shorts. But you were done with foreplay and just needed him. His hand went past your underwear, finally reaching where you needed him.

He tested it by swiping two fingers along your folds.

“so wet f’me, yeah?”

“yeah…please Hamzah.”

“don’t worry baby.” At the same time he spoke he sunk two of his fingers into you, curling them at the perfect speed, while using his thumb to rub your clit.

how he was so good at this, you had no idea.

You wanted to please him as well, but when you looked at his tent, a wet spot was already extremely prominent.

“hey,” he turned your focus to him.

“Just let go baby. I'll come with you. seeing you like this….having you like this is already getting me off so bad.” his strokes became faster and your breathing got harder.

Before you could release, he took his fingers away and replaced them with rough grinding of his hips again.

Seconds later a feeling so strong washed over your body, draining you and your mind. Hamzah came right after you. The connected spot between you was soaking and warm with both of your come leaking through your pants.

“Jesus, Y/n if thats what its like with clothes on I can't wait until-”

“Yeah.” You laughed short with your eyes closed at the familiar words- he practically said out loud what you’d been thinking the whole time. “Trust me, I'm suddenly very impatient to find that out.” You admitted with a smile and opened you eyes, looking at him through your lashes.

Fucked out and sweaty Hamzah was breathtaking. And now he was yours to admire, without any secret staring.

Hamzah kissed you softly, still with passion but not as feverish. He slowly moved you both into a sitting position before he stood up with you in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“What I said I would,” Is all he said. You were a bit confused until he spoke again.

“I'm gonna show you…” He kissed you long then finished his sentence. “I’m gonna show you i’ve imagined every fucking day.”

Your body grew immediately hot again.

“Alright. Show me.” You said quietly into his ear, nibbling it once as he carried you upstairs and into your bedroom. “But you might need to tell Martin your gonna film the video another day…”

He smiled big with his perfect teeth and shook his head with laughter.

He must be hallucinating because there’s no way he’s about to fuck the girl of his dreams.

a/n:

PT 2? Series mention list?

[gingerkunoichii]

☆ Yandere Naruto Men and their Obsession with You ☆

MASTERLIST Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha.

Warnings: abusive relationships, control, emotional manipulation, lovebombing, obsessive crazy love, isolation, intense jealousy, violence, almost physical abuse.

His Loving Obsession • Naruto isn’t just obsessed—he’s everywhere. His sunshine demeanour means no one questions it when he’s constantly by your side, always checking in, always making sure you’re okay. But behind the smiles and laughter, there’s something darker—a need so strong it borders on suffocation. Every time you smile at someone else, every time you talk about your plans without him, his stomach twists, and that friendly grin becomes just a little tighter. • Naruto doesn’t just love you—he worships you. He remembers every little thing about you, from your favourite snack to the way you like your coffee. He’ll show up with small surprises—your favorite candy, a new book you mentioned in passing, a blanket because he noticed you shivering the other day. He’s always thinking about you, always looking for ways to make you smile. • Naruto is a master at making you feel guilty without ever outright saying it. If you spend time with someone else, his expression falls just enough to make your chest ache. “Do you really think they care about you the way I do?” There’s no malice in his voice, only a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He’s not trying to control you (or so it seems)—he just can’t bear the thought of losing you to someone who doesn’t love you as deeply as he does.

• His jealousy is weirdly explosive. If someone flirts with you, his entire demeanour shifts. The laughter stops, his voice drops, and his eyes harden. It's like he's a whole different person. He’s quick to insert himself between you and the “threat,” acting like the person speaking to you is some sort of strange pervert, making it awkward for everyone.

• Naruto’s love becomes all-consuming. His hugs are tight, his hands always on you—your waist, your arm, the small of your back. He needs the reassurance of your presence, needs to feel your warmth under his fingers. His kisses are soft but desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into every movement, whispering against your lips, “No one can take you from me, Y/N.” You're so bombarded by him that you have no space to ever question it.

His Toxic Obsession

• Shikamaru doesn’t just watch you—he studies you. Every word you say, every nervous habit, every glance you throw at someone else—it’s all meticulously catalogued in his mind. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses that knowledge like a weapon. When he speaks to you, it’s with a precision that leaves you reeling and self-doubting, his words cutting straight to the heart of your insecurities and desires. • He isn’t loud or obvious when he cuts people out of your life. He does it quietly, methodically, in ways you don’t notice until it’s too late. Maybe he “accidentally” forgets to tell you about a group hangout or makes plans that conveniently overlap with your commitments to others. Before you realize it, he’s the only constant in your life, the only person you can turn to. “See? It’s just us now. It’s easier this way.” • Shikamaru doesn’t need to raise his voice to control you. His calm, measured tone is enough to make you second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Y/N? I mean, do what you want, but…” His words always trail off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. And when you do change your mind, he’s there with a lazy smirk, like he knew you would all along.

• When Shikamaru finally confesses, it’s not a plea—it’s a statement. “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve let you figure things out on your own, but it’s time you see what’s obvious.” His voice is low, steady, leaving no room for argument, your self-worth is so battered down from everything he's done you actually believe him, actually want to be with him.

• Shikamaru’s love is suffocating, an intricate web of manipulation and control that feels impossible to escape. But beneath the darkness, there’s an unsettling tenderness—a quiet devotion that makes you hesitate. “I only do this because I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. And in those moments, you wonder if he truly believes it. If maybe, somehow, he’s convinced himself that this twisted, obsessive love is what you need.

His Unrelenting Obsession

• Sasuke’s fixation is nothing short of paralyzing. His eyes follow you everywhere, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting you piece by piece. It’s suffocating, the way he can hold you in place with just a look, his intensity seeping into every interaction until it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. He had never been so entranced by someone or something before you. • Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle anything—or anyone—that threatens his control. A co-worker who’s too friendly? Suddenly, they’re fired over a baseless rumour. A friend who tries to intervene? They start receiving anonymous threats. It’s never loud or messy; it’s surgical, precise. He’s a ghost in the machine, orchestrating your isolation with a chilling efficiency that leaves you wondering if you’re imagining it when he acts the same as he always does - cool and detached. • Sasuke would make you dependent on him without you even realizing it. He’d insert himself into every aspect of your life—your confidant, your protector, your only constant. When things fall apart (because he made sure they would), he’s the one picking up the pieces, whispering, “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of you.” And in your weakest moments, it feels like the truth. • If you ever try to leave him, Sasuke’s calm exterior would shatter. He wouldn’t yell or beg—he’d act. Your phone? Smashed. Your keys? Gone. Every avenue of escape meticulously closed off until the only person you can turn to is him. His voice would drop to a dangerous whisper: “Everyone has left me. You don't get to do that, Y/N.” And when he says it, it feels like a vow—a terrifying, irreversible truth. • Beneath the darkness, there’s a twisted form of love—a desperate, all-consuming need to keep you safe, to keep you his. Sasuke genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good, that no one else could possibly love you the way he does. And in his mind, it’s not obsession—it’s destiny. You were meant to be his, no matter the cost.

His Devoted Obsession

• Kakashi’s tactics are subtle and insidious, cloaked in warmth and care. He’d insert himself into your life in ways that feel natural, like he’s just a dependable friend who’s always there when you need him, always appearing when things are going dire. But it’s calculated. Every comforting word, every thoughtful gesture, every perfectly timed “coincidence” is part of his plan to weave himself into the fabric of your life. “You looked a little overwhelmed, so I thought I’d step in.” • Kakashi convinces himself that his obsession is rooted in a desire to protect you, that it's normal he would be like this after everything that had happened to him throughout his life. If you’re in danger, he’s the first one there, stepping in with a calm authority that leaves no room for argument. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” • His charm is his greatest weapon. He knows how to put you at ease, to make you laugh, to make you feel safe. His lazy demeanour and soft-spoken words hide the intensity of his obsession, lulling you into a false sense of security, that he would never do anything to hurt you. When he teases you, his tone is light and playful, but there’s an edge to his smile that makes your pulse quicken.

• Kakashi doesn’t need to be loud or aggressive to isolate you—he’s far too smart for that. Instead, he subtly plants doubt in your mind about the people around you. “They didn’t seem very supportive of you earlier, did they?” “Are you sure they have your best interests at heart?” His tone is so soft, so thoughtful and seemingly wise, that you don’t realize he’s slowly nudging you into relying on him alone. • He doesn’t see his actions as manipulative or controlling—they’re protective, necessary. “I can't lose you, not after losing everyone else,” he’ll say, his voice so soft and convincing that you genuinely believe him. But the truth is, Kakashi’s love is a cage, and no matter how warm and comforting it feels, it’s one you’ll never escape.

His Desperate Obsession

• He loves you so desperately, so tenderly, with full unrestrained love. It feels like you were swept off your heels by him and his intensity, the way he knew he wanted you from the beginning and the way you completely crumbled underneath him was almost pathetic. He loves you like no one has before, gifting you thoughtful things he knows you like, listening to everything you say with genuine interest. He protects you, no one bothers you whilst you're with him suddenly - and you don't quite understand. • Itachi carries the ghosts of his clan in every step, every breath, every calculated action. He’s spent his entire life sacrificing, losing everything to protect what he loves. But you? You’re something he can’t sacrifice, something he won’t. He tells himself that this time, he won’t fail, won’t let the people he loves slip through his fingers. This time, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter the cost. • Itachi’s protectiveness goes beyond reason. He’s already failed once, letting his clan fall under his blade for the greater good, and he refuses to fail again. He doesn’t trust the world to keep you safe, so he takes matters into his own hands. The friend who’s too nosy? Gone without a trace. The ex who tries to reach out? Shows up in the news dead. You don’t see the strings he’s pulling, the shadows he’s working in, but the world around you becomes eerily smooth, free of threats. “You’re safe with me,” he’d say, his tone so calm, so certain, that you believe him. • His obsession is fuelled by guilt as much as love. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, not after what he’s done, but that only makes him cling to you harder. You’re his second chance, his proof that he can protect something without destroying it. He doesn’t tell you this—he doesn’t want to burden you with his darkness—but every glance, every touch carries the unspoken weight of his guilt. “You make me feel human again,” he’d admit in a rare moments of vulnerability. • If you ever tried to leave, Itachi wouldn’t react with anger or desperation. His voice would stay calm, his movements controlled, but there would be a finality in his words that makes your stomach twist. one that you know you can't resist because at this point he had made himself the top of the pyramid in your life. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. The world isn’t safe for you without me.” And if you push further, he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve already lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I won’t let it happen again. Not with you.”

His Masked Obsession

• When you first meet him, when you're only friends he keeps up the guise of Tobi. Tobi is a harmless goof, all smiles and playful antics. He makes you laugh, brightens your day, and slips into your life so easily it feels natural. But Tobi isn’t real—he’s a shield, a distraction from the storm brewing beneath. Every laugh, every clumsy joke is calculated, a way to draw you closer, to make you trust him. “See? Tobi’s a good boy!” he chirps, his eyes gleaming with something darker than innocence. • As Tobi, he drowns you in affection. He remembers every little thing you like, shows up with thoughtful gifts “just because,” and tells you how much you mean to him at every opportunity. “You’re Tobi’s favourite person! No one else compares!” His voice is light, his tone warm, and it’s easy to feel safe around him. • The switch happens when you least expect it. The moment you cross a line he doesn’t like—talking to someone else for too long, brushing off his affection, or even hinting at distance—the mask shatters. His voice drops and lowers, his posture stiffens, and the playful Tobi disappears. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his tone sharp and cutting. It’s a complete shift, like you’re staring into the eyes of someone you don’t recognize. • Losing Rin shattered Obito, and the thought of losing you pushes him over the edge. Every moment he isn’t with you feels like a threat, every smile you give someone else feels like a betrayal. He projects his pain onto you, his desperation spilling out in violent outbursts followed by trembling apologies. “I can’t lose you,” he growls, his hands fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer. “Not again. Not ever.” • After every outburst, Tobi returns, full of apologies and desperate affection. He showers you with gifts, clings to you like a lost puppy, and whispers tearful apologies. “Tobi’s so sorry! Tobi didn’t mean to scare you!” His voice is trembling, his hands gentle as he cups your face. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can’t live without you, how he’ll do better. • Obito’s love is suffocating, destructive, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path. He doesn’t see his violence as cruelty—it’s protection. He doesn’t see his obsession as wrong—it’s love. “I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me,” he says, his voice calm but his eyes wild. “Even you, if I have to.” And in his mind, that’s not a threat—it’s a promise.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

stay for a fortnight

a/n: as promised, here is part three of the bodyguard!bucky story ৎ୭

summary: “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, staying for two weeks at a chateau in the south of france, forced proximity, bucky is a shameless hoe and we love him for it, kissing, love confession, shower sex, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, gaping, handjob, fingering, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 3870

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“I’m sorry, darling. I tried to get out of it, I really did, even for just one day, but I can’t join you at the chateau this time.” 

“It’s alright, mom,” you exhaled, “I understand.”

Soothingly rubbing her palm down the length of your arm, she suggested, “well, since it won’t be as crowded down there, why don’t you stay a little longer? Maybe a proper break might cheer you up. Maybe one extra week?”

“Actually, two weeks of alone time is just what I need right now,” a faint smile managed to emerge on your lips, “thank you.”

“Great! You go and pack your things, I’ll let Barnes know to do the same,” she announced, and squashed the brief relief you felt just as soon as it had washed over you. 

It felt like ages that Bucky made you sit and wait in the car while he went around the estate to do his initial sweep, making sure it was safe and secure before you got to enter. 

The tenseness that still floated ethereally in the air between you didn’t fade away when he finally came back to crack open the door for you to exit the vehicle. 

“So,” you exhaled once the two of you had crossed the threshold of the chateau, “my room is the one upstairs and at the end of the hallway, yours is wherever the fuck you want, there are like a million bedrooms in this place.”

Your footsteps echoed against the elegantly tiled floors as you twisted to check that he even heard you. He had, seeing as his gaze was still ever glued upon you, though he didn’t offer you a reply. 

Shifting the large bag that hung from your shoulder, the luggage that you stubbornly hadn’t let him carry, you paused just before your stride began to ascend the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer.

“Also, I think we should come up with some ground rules.” 

Your bodyguard’s dark eyebrows then crinkled as he half scoffed, “ground rules?”

“Yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

Exhaling slowly, he simply stated, “whatever you say.”

Before you then began to drift up the wide steps, you cast a glance over your shoulder and said, “meet me in the kitchen in ten.”

“Alright,” you breathed, leaning against the cold marble of the kitchen island as you stared down at the small list you’d scribbled down on a stray post-it you had found in the bottom of your bag, slightly crumbled and with a doodle on the other side, “first rule I’d like to instate is an obvious one, but still needs to be set and stone in order for us to be here together. We can’t sleep together.”

When you heard a low sigh seep from Bucky’s lips, your eyes snapped up to glare at him. 

“Hey! Take this fucking seriously, okay?”

“I am,” he assured you, though his tone indicated the complete opposite of his words. 

“So, rule number two is in prolonging of the first one, which is that we can’t do anything that’ll make us want to sleep with each other,” you cast your glance back down to your messy handwriting, “two A, no swimming in the pool, two B, no nudity, two C, definitely no drinking, and two D, no staring at me,” your eyes flickered back up to catch his blue ones, “especially not like that,” you swiftly gestured to the way he gazed at you.

“Like what?” he didn’t change the manner he looked at you. 

“Like you’ve seen me naked!” 

Your shriek unfortunately only won you the glimpse of a smug smirk upon Bucky’s lips, one you swiftly tried to ignore. 

“Okay,” you blinked in an effort to redirect your attention back to the task at hand and not the butterflies that now soared in your stomach and made you slightly dizzy, “rule number three is technically also under the subsection of number two, but we can’t eat our meals together. No candle-lit dinners, not even a snack.”

Budding in, the man on the other side of the kitchen counter then said, “can I say something?”

With a soft sigh, you mustered the courage to look up at him, “shoot.”

“Do you wanna decide what I wear as well while you're at it? Maybe also when I’m allowed to breathe?”

His jest didn’t as much as conjure a twitch at the corners of your lips as your gaze simply narrowed in his direction, “are you mocking me?”

Boldly leaning his forearms down against the tabletop, he stared back at you, “so what if I am?” though when you assumed he was kidding and you let out a groan, you heard him go on, “all I’m saying is that maybe we don’t set a list of hard rules just to avoid each other. We seem to do just fine when we toss them all out the window.”

“I'm sorry, wait, what?” you blinked. 

“We’ve got two weeks here, so why don’t we make them count?” he shrugged. 

Mouth agape, you dumbfoundedly stared back at him, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” calmly, his head tilted slightly as he held your stunned gaze, “just think about it.”

The sun only barely managed to set before you felt yourself crack and give in to your bodyguard’s offer. 

Storming into his room, his dark brows only got the chance to rise slightly in astonishment before you nearly tackled him to the ground, throwing your arms around his bulky frame and crashing your lips against his before any of you could say even a single word. 

You didn’t try to hide the raw emotions that came pouring out, causing your efforts to be rough and desperate, though it didn’t take long before Bucky’s touch mirrored the feral nature of your own, leaving you dizzy as you eventually withdrew from the starved kiss, clutching onto his shirt for support as you breathlessly ordered. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Keeping your eyes closed, you tilted your head back to let the drizzle of water rinse out the shampoo from your locks. 

The door to the bathroom was wide open, so when you twisted your form to face the showerhead, you didn’t notice as your faithful protector stopped in his slow tracks right on the other side of the threshold. His eyes trailed down your glistening spine till the sight of you caused him to crumble completely and take advantage of the gift that had just fallen into his lap.  

A low purr vibrated within your chest as the warm water rained down upon you, though suddenly, it wasn’t just the hot shower embracing your form, as a pair of burly arms snaked their way around you. Leaning back into his bulky frame, you caught sight of a crumbled bundle of his clothes tossed on the other side of the fogged-up shower door. A blissful hum crackled within you like a roiling fire as you felt his lips begin to plant soft pecks along the line of your shoulders. 

Though as his touch began to bloom and wander boldly down your frame, a gentle hiss tore through your lazy smile as his fingers came into contact and brushed over your core. 

Nipping at your neck, he murmured, “oh, do you want me to stop?” not removing his metal hand, though halted the pattern he had begun to draw over your petals. 

He already knew full well just how sore and swollen you still were. It would have been impossible not to be after the vigorous activities you’d kept the past week busy with.  

Digging your digits into his forearms to keep you in his embrace, you shot back hazily over your shoulder, “don’t you dare,” before a whimper rippled out of you as Bucky once again rolled your puffy pearl beneath his steely touch. 

“How is it that we’ve already done this for a whole week, yet it only feels like a day?” his voice tickled the shell of your ear as you leaned more of your weight back into him. 

“Really? Because I don’t believe you’d be able to fuck me in a day as many times as you have this past week,” you jested through a whimper, “even for a guy with your stamina.” 

“It’s a good thing it’s just the two of us here… imagine if we hadn’t been alone, if it hadn’t been me walking by and seeing you seduce me like the wicked temptress that you are?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” you chuckled airily. 

“Really?” he teased just as his touch did, “leaving the door open, that wasn’t on purpose?” 

“No, I swear,” you then tilted your head and admitted, “at least not this time…”

“You mean the time back a month ago when didn’t close the door while taking a bath,” he murmured casually, “then called out to me, asking if I could fetch you a towel, and I had to pretend not to hear you?”

Spinning around at once, your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline as you blinked, “you knew?” 

“Baby, you never had to play that hard just to torture me,” he smiled down at you, “that move was downright cruel,” before he reached for the knob and switched off the water.

A squeal bubbled out of you as Bucky then suddenly plucked you up into his arms, wasting no time before he stepped out of the shower, only pausing for a beat in the comparatively more spacious area, though only in order to manhandle you further and toss you over his shoulder before his feet began to shift once more, leaving wet prints in their wake on the cool tile as he strode towards the exit. 

Strung over his shoulder as if you were a wet piece of laundry and he was the line, you giggled, “wait!” and just managed to catch one of the fluffy towels hanging on the hook he passed. Blinking down at the floor as he crossed the threshold, you watched as droplets of water dribbled down from you both and left a trail on the herringbone flooring, “you’re dripping, you’re gonna get the whole house wet!”

Landing his wide palm in a wet smack across your ass, he chuckled, “I thought that was my line, sweetheart,” teasing about the manner your pussy drooled for him, already leaking down your thighs at this point. 

Soon, the long hallway disappeared from your periphery as Bucky entered the nearest of the many bedrooms, though you barely had time to register your new surroundings before the world fell out from under you and he plopped you down on the bed in the middle of the room. 

Standing his ground and looming above the giggle that was your horizontal form, he stole the towel from your grasp before dragging the terrycloth across your skin. As he dried off the droplets of water that clung to your body, a handful of pecks adorned your flesh as well, often shadowing the cloth. 

Gazing up at him with smile-crinkled eyes, you stretched your feet up in the air, against his torso, and rested them against his wide shoulders as he briefly paused to dry himself off as well. But as he returned to sweep the towel across the last remaining spot upon your body that still glistened from the shower, the peck he pressed to the valley between your boobs was swiftly halted as your grasp found his jaw and you guided his face up towards your own. 

As you brought his lips to your own, you swiftly felt the mattress dent and ripple as he crawled up to hover above you. 

“Ahh, fuck…” he then groaned against your lips as your hand snaked down between your bodies and began to stroke his throbbing girth. 

Tossing the towel to the side, a gasp soon tumbled out past your lips as Bucky’s palms found your tits in a gentle squeeze. Your pebbly nipples stood up to the challenge as he swept a knuckle teasingly across one of them before capturing it in a pinch and tugging slightly to summon a sinful sound deep within your body. 

As your fist slowly twisted up and down his hard length, his close proximity caused your own knuckles to brush across your clit at every heated pass. Almost unconsciously, you tilted your hips slightly and nudged the bulbous tip of him through your glistening petals, the pleasure of which caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

But just before he could take the initiative and catch your fleeting invitation to let him inside, you caught him off guard and suddenly rolled him onto his back with your frame plastered atop of him. 

Propping yourself up slightly, you grasped his fat girth before slowly sinking down upon it, “o-oh my god,” couldn’t help but breathlessly tumble out of your lungs as a flat palm came down to brace on his broad chest and your thighs gently quivered at the sudden stretch of him. It was a few times that you had to pause on your slow journey down just in order to catch your breath, as his intimidating size caused you to question yet again how you’d ever been able to take it before. 

“Atta girl,” his grip dug into your hips when you slowly began to move, “just like that…” though you still couldn’t persuade your pelvis to sink all the way down to meet his own. 

As you found a gentle roll, one of Bucky’s palms scooped up past your waist and caught one of your tits. Your back arched slightly as he played with your boobs, his hand travelling back and forth as you rode him, though a shuttering moan rippled through your body as he landed a gentle tap down upon one of them, a shiver swiftly trickling down your spine at the spark.

But just as you thought the bodyguard beneath you was blissfully enjoying the show and letting you do all the work yourself, his hips then abruptly offered you a greedy buck.  

“Bucky!” you nearly screamed as he buried the last few inches that you had so fiercely struggled to conquer on your own, “that’s–, I–, holy fuck!” 

You hadn’t been able to take all of him on your own, so he just gave you the little nudge that you needed, even if that nudge thoroughly punched all of the oxygen out of your lungs, he still made you take every staggering inch.

“Come on, don’t stop now,” a chuckle escaped him at your reaction before his palm came down upon your ass to get you back to work, “make yourself cum on this cock.” 

Shakily, you tried to pick up your rhythm once more, dropping your hips to meet his, though he couldn’t remain still for long before he began to fuck up into your warmth. Heavy taps echoed throughout the room as his balls slapped against your slick skin at his efforts. As he met your movements halfway and drove his cock much deeper than you could muster on your own, your left hand drifted down to strum your buzzing clit. 

Already dangerously close to the edge, your hazy gaze flickered down to watch not only how your pussy magically swallowed his big dick, but your eyes also caught sight of the dull bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, making your brain feel even more fuzzy than before. As your glance flickered back to try and catch his, you found his own stare to still be fiercely locked on the same spot where yours had just strayed from, watching intently at just how deep he went, nearly rearranging your guts just to mould you perfectly to fit his shape. 

When you finally reached your peak, your cunt nearly choked his cock as your silky walls clambered down on him, a small accompaniment of sinful gush squirted around him and drizzled to soak the sheets below. 

While you were still foggy with your eyes barely open, Bucky rolled you both over, his dick still throbbing deep within you. Welcoming the softness of the bed beneath you with a gentle sigh, he then captured your lips in a kiss and swallowed the whimpers that promptly bubbled up as he began to fuck you once more, offering you long, deep strokes that sank you so far into the mattress that you began to wonder if you might rock through it completely.  

“O-oh, so fucking d-deep,” you blubbered. A rhythmic cry forced its way out of your lungs each and every time the tip of him kissed your cervix, nearly bullying the deepest parts of you in a manner that made you feel like the wobbliest of jellies. 

“You scared I’m gonna break you, baby?” his soft lips ghosted against your cheekbone. 

“I–, maybe,” you admitted, blinking up at the way his frame eclipsed your vision, “but it feels so good, I don’t care if you do,” though your confession ended up not only exclusively being about the purely physical entanglement you currently found yourselves in. 

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as his hands scooped down beneath your bottom, before he let himself manhandle you, repeatedly dragging your hips up to grant him a better angle for him to fuck into. A bit of drool trickled out the corner of your mouth and found the pillow below your head when his cock soon throbbed within you, pumping you full of his hot load. 

When he pulled back out of your warmth, your pussy didn’t get to stay empty for long as his cool metal fingers swiftly took his dick’s place. Plugging you full, his frame shifted slightly to grant him a good view of the leaky mess he’d made of you. As he pushed his cum deeper inside of you, scooping it back in as his fingers forced it out, he increasingly added more and more digits till the amount matched the girth that had just split you apart, before he withdrew them all at once and grinned proudly at the way he made your hole gape slightly for him, before winking back to a closed as if he’d never even tickled you before. 

It didn’t take long with all of his molten motions before your pussy wept for him once more, a display he only drew out as his fingers stayed hooked inside of you while his other palm came down to offer your puffy pearl a few taps. 

A hazy giggle was bubbling out of your shaky frame as his attentive touch finally faded and his kisses fluttered back up your body till your arms wrapped around him and drew him in close. 

As you layed there in the plush bed and stared up at the ceiling, you didn’t know yet that the man sprawled out beside you was awake as well. 

You just couldn’t find rest no matter how hard you tried, for how could you as tonight was your last night in the chateau. 

Carefully, you slipped out from under the covers, grabbed your long robe from the armchair it was draped over, and tip-toed towards the wide French doors that lead out onto a balcony. Pushing the doors open, a mild gust of wind rustled the robe as you fastened the tie around your waist and crossed over the threshold. 

Though you knew that you didn’t have any other choice, the thought of returning home in the morning still broke your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was burst that dreamlike bubble that you and your bodyguard had built together and go back to a world completely desaturated of colour. 

Not only had you made the grave mistake of repeating history, but putting it under such an intense microscope didn’t help matters either, as well as your feelings, those having become terrifyingly clear over the past two weeks. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard the doors behind you creak and you tore your hazy gaze away from the dark gardens below to spot Bucky gently leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” you breathed, keeping a flat palm on the ivy-covered stone railing as you twisted your frame slightly to glance at him, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake,” he shrugged slightly before joining you outside in the pale moonlight, “you okay?”

“Yeah…” you sighed, casting your gaze back upon the woods blooming in the distance. 

“…well, that didn’t sound very convincing,” he chuckled gently as he settled in beside you, leaning both his forearms against the half-wall, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes flickered over to catch his own, “I just–…” you hesitantly began before admitting, “I don’t wanna go back to Paris…” 

“Why not?” though a crinkle found his brow, his expression still softened, “is there something going on with you and your mother?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you shook your head, “I just don’t wanna go home yet…” staring at him a moment longer, you then heard yourself confess, “…I–… I don’t want this to end yet…”

Watching closely as his lungs expanded with oxygen, for the first time you witnessed the gruff man look utterly and completely stunned, simply staring down at you with bated breath. 

Parting your lips once more, you nearly whispered, “…I don’t wanna go back to pretending that I’m not in love with you…” 

Bucky didn’t say a word, only continued to stare as he tried to comprehend the truth you’d just professed.

“I love you,” you gathered up the nerve to spit out, “I love you now… I loved you this morning… I loved you after you’d probably only worked at the embassy for a few weeks…” your vision became blurred as tears began to form in your eyes and you continued to babble, “and I don’t think those feelings are planning on changing anytime soon, so it only seemed fair for you to be aware of that for when I ask you in two seconds if you wanna keep this thing between us going, because I do, though probably for different reasons than you–, not that I don’t enjoy that part, you are an incredible lay, I just didn’t think it would be fair for you to be unaware of the feelings I've developed for you, because I don’t know how to ignore them anymore, and–, oh my god, please just say something, I feel like I arrived naked at school or something–”

But before you could ramble any further, Bucky seized your face and fiercely pressed his lips to your own. A shiver ran down your spine and nearly caused your knees to buckle as he kissed you, and when he withdrew, slowly pulling back, he found your stary gaze and uttered, “…I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he then sucked in a breath before confessing, “because I–… Y/n, I love you too…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[genderless-naper]

half asleep

trafalgar law x gf!reader

themes: sleepy reader, pillow humping, assisted orgasm w/ fingering, some sweet talk, desperation

waking up in the middle due to the cold couldn’t stop your mind from thinking dirty thoughts. law decides to help you when he sees you humping his pillow while you’re half-asleep

smut, wc: 1.4k, lowercase intended !

⇣ credits to original artist (gokujounomaguro)

the coolness of the polar tang wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. this particular night though was freezing cold. being wrapped up in a blanket with your lover wasn’t enough to keep you from waking up and shivering.

you look around the room hardly awake. you lifted your head from your boyfriend’s chest and looked at the clock which read 4am. you glanced up at law, who was slightly sat up, starring at the wall seeming to be lost within his own intricate thoughts. why he was awake at 4am was beyond your comprehension.

the sudden movement caused from you sitting up in bed made him look at you. surprised, he spoke to you in a soft tone, “oh you’re awake y/n? did you have a bad dream?”

you shook your head and muttered, “its freezing law. you don’t feel that??” you rubbed the sleep out your eyes.

once understanding the situation law responded, “i’ll get an extra blanket and a sweater for you. i’ll get some water too y/n-ya.” law preceded to wrap you in the single blanket that was not able to do you justice in the cold.

law makes his way out the room to fulfill your needs. you laid in bed wrapped in your blanket. the pillow next to you was positioned vertically. most likely from law moving it to sit up while you were asleep. you rolled to your side and lifted a leg to wrap around it.

your closed eyes couldn’t stop your mind from wondering. the picture of law still painted in your mind from when you woke up. something about his chest tattoo peeking through his shirt’s collar and his serious gaze as he was lost in thought. it all made him so handsome.

thoughts of your absent lover swirled in your mind, and made your body warm. you tightened your leg around the pillow to feel it press against your clothed core. you bit your lip as you proceeded to shift your hips back and fourth to rub the cloth core. the slight friction between you and the pillow was enough to part your lips and moan quietly. your pace slightly quickened, but it was still done with lethargic energy. as good as it felt you could still feel like you were about to fall back to sleep.

so distracted by your current task you failed to see your boyfriend walk into the room after getting the things you needed. he was taken aback from the sight of you rocking your hips against his pillow.

maybe it was his scent on the pillow that made it feel all the more better. either way it was obvious you were trying to reach a climax of pleasure. your laziness prevented you from being able to reach that point, so you drowsily humped law’s pillow hoping to reach an orgasm one way or another.

law makes his way over to you. he lets you continue your activity as he lays out a bigger blanket over your smaller one. it was heavy, so it weighed you down and staggered your already desperate attempts of satisfaction.

law sits back in bed and shares the blankets with you. your frustration from not being able to please yourself enough was starting to get to you. you shove the pillow to the other side and pull yourself closer to law.

law looked at his used pillow to see a wet spot from where you used to satisfy your core. it earned a chuckle from the man, “did you have fun y/n?” he clearly wanted to tease you.

you whined and rubbed your thighs together desperate for some kind of friction, “i can’t feel good.. too tired..”

law pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his chest, “do you need help so you can feel good? you just woke up so it might be harder for you to do it on your own.”

you nod tiredly. eyes barely opened you take law’s hand into your own, and pulled it under the blanket and towards your thighs.

law pushed your rubbing thighs opened, and ran his fingers against your cloth core. he could feel the outline of your pussy because your pants stuck against the wetness so well. it exposed you to your boyfriend’s fingers even though you were covered.

the new attention given to your core made you whimper. heading you made law feel bad for you, “don’t worry baby. i’m gonna help you feel good.”

you nodded mindlessly ready to take whatever your boyfriend was willing to do to your sleepy self.

his hand slowly made its way into your panties. you naturally spread your thighs more in order to grant him access. law appreciated your cooperation, “just relax and i’ll do the work. i’ll make sure you feel good y/n-ya.”

like a cue law began to brush his fingertips against your clit gently for you to adjust to it. the feeling if your boyfriend touching such an intimate part of you cause electricity to circulate inside you. he could make you feel good by doing the bare minimum.

law’s 2 fingers started in a circular motion around your clit. he circled around where he knew would be the most sensitive. he wanted to stimulate you as much as possible.

you shut your eyes completely letting the man do what he pleased in order for you to reach your peak. the sensations from your core travelled throughout your body pulling it closer to an edge.

law applied more pressure to his fingers tips. he slowed down his circular motions around your clit, and decided to start flicking motions. he moved his finger back and fourth against your sensitive bud. this earned slight moans from you.

law whispered encouragements into your ears, “you’re doing so good y/n-ya. i bet it feels good too doesn’t it sweetheart?”

you nodded to the man’s words sweet words as his fingers made you feel pleasures you would’ve never accomplished on your own with a pillow.

law continued, “you looked so gorgeous earlier. i wish i could always see you humping my pillow like that.” law abandoned your clit and made his fingers to your opening. his fingers naturally became coated in your core’s wetness.

you bit your lip, “i-i looked gorgeous?”

law hums, “absolutely beautiful. next time you should hump my thigh like that baby. i’d rather you use me than just my pillow.”

as law spoke he steadily pushes two fingers into your opening. the sudden action made you feel strangely full. you body naturally responded by rocking your hips against the fingers.

law continued his praises, but they went in through one ear and out the other. your mind felt absent while your body took in the pleasures of law’s long fingers pressing against your walls. you felt them go in and out, and you imagined his finger tattoos becoming covered because they repetitively make their way inside of you.

your whimpers start to become more vocal as your body climbed towards your climax. law continued to penetrate you with his two fingers, but skillfully used his thumb to rub your clit. he knew his actions were doing numbers on you by the way your body naturally tensed up, and how you became more vocalized.

you bit your lip, “law it feels so good, i-i think im close~”

law hums and quickens his pace, “then cum for me baby. i wanna hear you moan my name. who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

your body slightly arched up as your orgasm crept upon you. you moaned his name loudly, “law you make me feel so good! only you can make me feel so amazing~”

your orgasm washed over you turning you into a shaky moaning mess. you tightened around law’s fingers. he could feel his fingers inside of you become coated in your juices again. he pulled them out of your core and panties. he voluntarily sucked your juices off his fingers not wanting to waste a single drop.

you drew yourself closer to the man. you started to feel the exhaustion of the orgasm bearing over you. law found your middle-of-the-night horniness compelling. he also thought it made you cuter. knowing that he was the first thought on your mind after you woke up was satisfying for him.

law kissed your hair, “you should go back to sleep now sweetheart. it’s late.”

you barely responded, already on your path towards the realm of slumber, “you have to sleep too…”

law hums and gets comfortable with you by his side. he pulls your pillow so you two can share since you discarded of his earlier. he’d have to add washing his pillowcase to his to-do tasks for the next day.

masterlist

[one-green-frog]

Hi!

Can I request your yandere platonic batfam with a reader who gets bruised easily (bc i bruise so easily and it freaks everyone out) and what happened when they see them ♥️

Held Tight

The first time the family noticed a bruise on your arms they were ready to burn the world down. There was a bruise on your wrist, as if someone had hit you. It was strange, since usually someone was with you at all times, no one from the family would hurt you and they regularly made sure that you didn't have any mental health problems.Did someone break in? Was it one of their enemies. You're probably too scared to tell them.

Oh how it pained them to know that you are hurting, but too scared to tell them. Have they not been trustworthy? Had they now shown you that they loved you so deeply, they would never judge you? And they couldn't just ask, no, it would make you uncomfortable, maybe lead you to shut them out. That would be the worst case.

You noticed a shift in the family. Before they were already clingy and constantly showering you with love, but now it was even worse better. Nearly every minute they reminded you how important you are and that no matter what, they would always stand by your side. You didn’t mind, not really. In all honesty you loved the attention, but you also noticed their Desperation. Something was wrong.

Dick looked at you with such pity behind his eyes, yet he would never say anything, silently suffering. He was also the one to constantly remind you that you are family and the most treasured member, that they all cared and would always listen if you ever have any troubles. It was sweet, being reminded that the family loved you, but you noticed that he wanted to tell you something without outright saying what. Dick was always the supportive big brother everyone needed.

Then came Jason who now constantly patrolled every area you were in. He was looking for something or someone, yet he wouldn't tell you what it was. Not only that, but he was also way more physical. Jason was, unlike the others, a bit more repulsed with physical touch. You knew it was because of some scars and juts the way he thought of himself. This change was something you could accept with open arms and oh did you miss out before. You were constantly wrapped in his arms, practically swallowed by his stature, hiding in his arms while he hugged you. You soaked up every single second you could spend cuddling and snuggling him. Jason looked as if he was trying to protect you from something, clinging to you, a slightly tighter grip around you, small things you noticed, that set you off, but small enough to not bring it up.

Tim also changed. No longer would he spent hours upon hours in his room behind a monitor. Now he actively sought you out, even joined you on daily walks. Normally you would be extatic, Tim was often busy with Wayne business, be it important meetings our just paperwork, and you would have loved to think that a stressful period was over, but you noticed his looks. His even more sunken eyes, dark circles under his eyes and the way he would seemingly drift off into space during a conversation. It was obvious to you that he forced himself to stay awake to be with you, and while you loved your brother very much, it hurt worse to see him in such a bad state.

Damian didn't change much, in all honesty. Before he was a little brother who loved to cling onto you, now he was your little brother clinging onto you even more. It was once every blue moon that he would "sneak" into your bedroom to snuggle with you, now it was practically every night. You were usually awake reading a book when the door would creak open just slightly, Damian would peek inside and just look at you expectantly, waiting to be invited in. You scooted over to one side and lifted your blanket and almost in the same instant he would lay in your bed beside you. Whenever that happened you usually went to bed, not wanting Damian to lose any sleep. Together you laid there, Damian climbing into you like a cat seeking every bit of warmth you fand of. You like these social little moments with your younger brother, so it came as a surprise when suddenly he came to you nearly every day. You also noticed how he was on the lookout, trying to find some sort of intruder or something. It really freaked you out at first before you simply thought of it as his child mind.

The weirdest one was Bruce.

Bruce just hovered. That's it. Whenever, wherever, he always seemed to just be there looking at you. It was weird. He too looked at you with an almost pleading look, almost begging you to do something, but you simply didn't know what. What everyone was suddenly on to act so weird.

Bruce was also the one to bring "the problem" up. One day, he sat you down, he had this devastated look on his face. It was obvious something troubled him and at first you thought he had some bad news.

But then he started to talk about how he noticed some bruises on your arms. He went on a rant about how sorry he was that he couldn't protect you, that he just wanted what's best and that if someone hurt you to tell them. For your defense, you didn't mean to chuckle, the whole situation just made sense. Their sudden change their strange behavior, because they thought someone hurt you.

"Oh, I just bruise really easily," you explained, "it just happens sometimes"

To say Bruce was shocked was an understatement. Never had the thought crossed their mind that it was just such a small thing and not one of their enemies trying to take away their most precious family member.

After the talk everyone's behavior changed again, this time for the better. You noticed how everyone seemed more relaxed, no longer on edge and looking for something. You also noticed that they were more careful whenever touching you. Hugs are now more gentle, dragging you around was now just leading you by your hand. You didn't mind either thing. It showed how much they cared, immediately noticing something and trying to fix it, never once trying to make you uncomfortable in any way.

Words could never describe the care that went into everything they did for you.

Taglist: @lilyalone

Thank you so much for requesting!

My inbox is always open for you, so please don't worry about sending too many request :) ❤️

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How will your future spouse pursue you ⋆˙⟡

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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✧˚. My Masterlist🫶🏻

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: king of swords, knight of cups reversed, king of pentacles, the sun, the tower, 2 of swords

This spread is literally chef’s kiss, like, it starts cute, dips into delulu, explodes your world, then somehow ends up in wholesome husband material land?? I’m SCREAMING. Okay.

Right off the bat, you’re gonna think this person is cold. PERIOD. I’m sorry, but King of Swords as the first card, this ain’t some gushy softie sliding into your DMs with heart emojis and “wyd baby.” Nah, theyre giving emotionally disciplined, calculating, and “I only let three people see the real me and you’re not on the list… yet. YET” they might come across lowkey intimidating at first, like, the kind of person who’s quiet in group settings but throws out that one sarcastic comment that’s so sharp it makes everyone laugh and feel personally attacked. 😭💀

BUT TRUST ME, they’re watching you. Like… a hawk. They’re the type who is taking mental notes on your coffee order, your laugh patterns, the way you furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought, stuff even you don’t know you do. But honesty love….. they’re into you from day one, but they plays it off like he’s unbothered. Classic King of Swords move. Strategic af. Theyre lowkey fighting himself. Like, internally they got this soft, romantic, borderline poetic thing brewing, he fantasizes about running into you by “accident,” planning the most aesthetic dates, imagining you in his hoodie😭but he’s actively repressing it. Because vulnerability? He’d rather eat glass, thanks. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He’s convinced if he lets on how deep he’s feeling this, he’ll lose the upper hand or get hurt. So what does he do instead? Weird passive-aggressive things. Acts uninterested one minute, then gives you eyes across the room like he’s trying to telepathically undress your soul the next. Sir. Pick a lane. He doesn’t chase, he builds. He slowly starts showing up for you in the most tangible, grounded ways. Need help with something? He’s already on it. Mentioned your favorite snack in passing? It just “randomly” appears next time. The way this man provides?? You’ll be SHOOK. He’s not flashy about it either. He’s like, “I got you” and means it. That’s when you start going: “Wait… are they… serious?” Because once this person is IN, he is IN. Like, no games, no pullbacks. Suddenly it’s "have you eaten?" and "text me when you get home" and "do you want me to fix that thing?." Husband mode activated. 

BUT THEN. Omg. THE TOWER. 😭 Baby this is where it goes OFF. Something will shift drastically. And honestly, You might be the one who triggers it, ofc we are talking about you here so. Like maybe you call him out for his hot-and-cold vibe, or you walk away ‘cause you’re done playing Guess Who: Feelings Edition™. Whatever it is, it SHATTERS his cool-boy facade. The Tower is giving “omg I fumbled” realness. He suddenly realizes how much he could lose and spirals. Might even go quiet for a second, lick his wounds, have a whole emotional breakdown. But then… boom. THE SUN. This is where the magic happens. The pursuit becomes warm, honest, and loud. He stops hiding. He owns it. Like, “Yeah, I like you. Actually, I love you. Actually, I wanna grow old with you and argue about what brand of detergent we’re using.” You’ll feel seen, adored, and finally safe in this connection. It’s that post-breakdown glow-up. He starts expressing himself clearly, no longer scared to let you in.

But now. Girl. YOU are gonna be the one hesitating now 😭. That Tower moment hits you, too. You start overthinking: “Can I trust this sudden 180? Was he always this into me and just hiding it? Do I want someone who couldn’t be vulnerable from the start?” Like, your brain starts weighing everythings. And that’s valid! It’s hard to unsee someone’s walls once you’ve bumped into them. So how do you perceive him throughout this journey? At first, cold and confusing af. Then… weirdly magnetic. Then dependable and lowkey daddy-coded. Then chaotic and heartbreak-y. Then sunshine and deeply, deeply sincere. You’ll feel like you’re watching him peel back layer after layer, and each one gets softer, realer, and more him.

His hints would be subtle but intentional. He remembers small things. He lingers a bit longer in conversations than necessary. He suddenly shows interest in the things you love, even if they weren’t his vibe before. He gives you those “you’re the only person in this room I care about” eyes. He’ll NEVER say it first… until he breaks. And when he does? You’re done. Stick a fork in you. Soul snatched. Game over.

I am seeing like he might dream about you before things really pop off. He might tell you later like ,“I had this weird dream we were married lol” and laugh it off, but internall,y he’s BLUSHINGGG because the dream felt real. Also… idk why I’m seeing like… rain or some stormy weather being important??? Maybe the Tower moment literally happens during a stormy day and you both cry under the rain like a movie scene? (i mean…..idc… if i am getting me personal main character moment. It’s all part of the process, i guess💁🏻‍♀️).

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: the tower, king of wands, 5 of pentacles, queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

PILE 2, Okay but… why does this feel like a well written kdrama with 16 episodes??? I mean i could literally make a movie out of this pile 😭 my reaction to the cards were literally: oh, OH, ahh—, TF, Oh. My. GOD.😭 

The drama. The rawness. The "I didn’t see this coming, but now I literally can’t look away" energy is off the charts. And I’m already obsessed. So let’s talk about how this chaotic yet painfully magnetic future spouse of yours is about to come stomping into your world like they own the place, with all their trauma and broken broken parts and this weirdly hot charisma that shouldn’t be attractive but is. And somehow?? You fall for it. But like… respectfully 😭.

this person doesn’t approach you like your average person in love would do. No flowers and shy glances. Nope. It’s giving, "I just burnt my life down and now I’m rebuilding from scratch and oh look, you’re here too," vibes. Like you know when someone walks into a room and they don’t say much but their energy is SCREAMING "I’ve been through the trauma you couldn't even imagine"? That’s them. Tower card energy straight up. Something’s just collapsed in their life—could be a major breakup, a career flop, family drama, or literally an existential crisis. Honestly? Feels like all three, let’s not lie 💀. But instead of moping around, this person grabs that chaos and turns it into… ambition. Swagger. Power. This is someone who knows how to lead. They pursue you like they’re chasing their next purpose. With intention. With clarity. And this lowkey intimidating confidence that says “I know what I want, and it’s you.” But let’s not pretend it’s smooth sailing here. Bc 5 of Pentacles? Babe. This person has been abandoned, emotionally iced out, or felt major rejection in the past. Like it’s giving "I’ve loved and I’ve lost and now I trust NO ONE but my dog”. And because of that, Their way of pursuing you is… messy. Not in a manipulative way, but in that "I’m trying to be a lover while still patching up my own wounds" type of mess. So expect mixed signals. Hot and cold. Deep talks followed by withdrawal. And you’re gonna be like, “Sir?? Do you like me or do you need therapy??” honestly: it’s both 😭.

Queen of Cups as the next card is where things get interesting. You. Literally you. You're intuitive AF, emotionally intelligent, and probably catch onto their emotional damage in the first week and are like “Yup. You’re hurt. But I see the softie under all that wreckage.” And here's where it gets wild: they know you see it. That’s what makes them pursue harder. You’re the first person who doesn’t just want them for their outer confidence and King of Wands hotness, you want to know their soul. Their weird inner child. Their guilt. Their hidden sadness. And that?? That shakes them. In a good way. You start noticing little things. Like how they’ll work on themselves just to be better for you. They start showing up. Maybe it’s slow, but you’ll see them trying, healing their abandonment issues, learning to communicate, showing effort in tangible ways. Like planning little dates, asking how your day was (and ACTUALLY listening….woah rare, ngl), sharing parts of their past without you asking. They might even pick up new skills or hobbies because you like them. A little "if she likes books, I read books now" moment?? 😭😭 Despite how mature and scarred and big-boss they may appear, at their core, they’re a newbie when it comes to actual healthy love. Like yeah, they’ve loved before. But not YOU kind of love. Not “you see me even when I’m not performing” kind of love. And that humbles the hell out of them. They're awkward about it. Like, "I wanna give you the world but I also don’t know how to wrap a gift box correctly." 😭 It’s so endearing, you can’t help but melt. They pursue you like someone relearning love from scratch—and you become their soft place to land. They’ll stumble. They’ll overthink. But babe, they’ll try. And that’s what makes them fall harder. Because this ain’t about seduction. It’s about growth. They're not gonna outright confess their feels in the beginning. It’s gonna be hidden in acts of service. Like fixing your broken lamp. Or sending you a meme with a weird caption like, "reminds me of u" Or casually saying “I don’t talk to many people like I do with you,” and then acting like it wasn’t a full-on emotional proposal. Their love language is subtle till it’s not, okay?? But your intuitive self picks up on every damn sign, and you’ll know before they even open their mouth. That’s the connection here, psychic soulmate level. You’ll feel their love way before it’s said.

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards Pulled: king of wands, 3 of cups, knight of swords reversed, the devil, 8 of cups, the star

OKAY, PILE 3 is here and… GIRL this pile has such strong, “Dark romance” vibes and also that “enemies to lovers but we’re obsessed with each other” trope energy like NO OTHER 😮‍💨🔥. Your future spouse? It’s that person who shows up outta nowhere and instantly throws your life into disarray because the connection is too much, too fast, too real. They pursue you like they’ve waited lifetimes to find you and now that you’re finally here, they’re not gonna risk losing you—even if it means accidentally traumatizing you with their intensity first 😭.

So let’s start with the vibe of this person, okay? Immediately I’m seeing someone who is dominant AF in presence, the type of person where the second they walk into a room, your attention shifts without your permission. But they’re not all flash and no depth, this person has that charismatic, “traumatized but make it aesthetic” confidence LOL. Think: the guy who’s lowkey too cool for everyone but gets soft for you 🫠. But it’s not just charm. It's calculated. They choose to pursue you. Like, they spotted you from across the damn soul contract timeline and were like, “Yep. That one. Mine.” LMAO.

Here’s where it gets juicy though, this person doesn’t make their pursuit clean or safe. We’ve got the Knight of Swords reversed mixed with The Devil and 3 of Cups… BABY. I’m not gonna lie, their approach is gonna have you shook. This isn't some slow-burn "lemme get to know you" type of chase. Nah, it’s giving intoxicated obsession. Like they’re coming at you way too fast, might say things they haven’t thought through (hello chaotic confessions??), maybe even making moves when you’re like “Wait… tf is happening?!” . And I SWEAR this person gives off the vibe of someone who might try to "just be friends" first… but they absolutely fail at it. Like... you’re not slick, sir. The way they look at you? Not very "friendly." More like "I wanna pin you to the wall in a meaningful way." 😭 it’s like you look into their eyes once aand you are going inot their crib TONIGHT. 

BUT. Their pursuit of you isn’t just lusty and impulsive, it’s coming from a place of deep yearning and soul ache. You’re literally the star they’ve been trying to find after walking away from a bunch of superficial crap. I’m getting that they’ve already been through a lot emotionally, they’ve had to let go of people, addictions (literal or emotional), maybe even success that wasn’t fulfilling. So while their approach is messy and extra (like “sir pls chill”), it’s coming from a place of craving real healing, real light, REAL connection. And guess what? That’s what you are to them. Their fkn North Star. And trust me, they don't even realize it at first, like they’re thinking they’re chasing a thrill, but gets, spiritual awakening outta nowhere. Bestie… you’re gonna think they’re too much. 😂 Straight up. You’ll be like “This person is hot, sure……but wtf is this energy??” It’ll feel like you’re constantly trying to decide between “should I kiss them or block them?” Energy chaotic AF. You’ll clock them trying to play it cool, but their eyes? Screaming "I'm feral for you." It’s also possible they’ll show up when you’re trying to move on from someone/something else, and you’ll be hesitant because you’re finally healing, vibing, living in peace, and here comes this walking temptation in human form, knocking on your aura like “hey 😏.” i mean really this emoji is the perfect example of how i am imagining this person.  There’s definitely a karmic undertone here, like you two have danced this dance before in past lives but it was let uncompleted. So now, they're NOT playing around. And the way The Star closes the reading? OOF. After all the chaos, the push/pull, the temptation, and messy little love games… they want peace with you. You are the peace. The wish. The endgame. But it’s not gonna come pretty.

Okay so their hints are not actually hints. They’ll accidentally drop the biggest signs , forgetting they’re supposed to pretend. They’ll joke about being obsessed with you? Deadass. They’ll mention you in every convo “by accident.” They might post quotes on their stories or make weird comments like “If I ever fall in love, it’ll be someone like you” 🙄, SIR. STOP. WE SEE YOU.  The 3 of Cups energy is also giving “I’ll use mutual friends to get close to you,” like casually showing up at a party where you just happen to be?? Please.And listen, not everything will be smooth sailing. That Devil energy is LOUD. There will be moments where you’ll wonder if you’re drawn to them because it’s fated… or because it’s toxic. But that’s part of the growth arc. They’re not here to ruin your life, they’re here to crack your heart open with messy hands. And once they realize that they can’t control you? That’s when the real magic starts. That’s when they fall so damn hard, they start building a whole new version of themselves just to be worthy of your light.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while they’re on patrol they run into someone who knows the reader’s abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea 😅

Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • john nolan fic  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you

word count: 10.4k

warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff

a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.”

     The dispatcher’s voice filled the silence of the car.

     “7-Adam-19 responding.” Officer  Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.

     “What’s the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?” Tim asked you after a moment. 

     “Why did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?” you muttered.  

     You’d been Bradford’s rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?

     “Is that your answer, Boot?” 

     “No, um, I guess it would be that he’s armed. But no, that’s too obvious for you. Ok, what about what they’re stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?”

     Tim sighed, looking bored. “Wrong. It’s—”

     “Suspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,” came the dispatcher’s update, interrupting your TO’s answer.

     “Looks like we’re headed east,” Tim said, turning sharply in the direction you’d just come from. 

     “Saved by the suspect,” you joked. 

     “Don’t think this is over,” Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. “Lessons don’t stop for crime.”

     “Ok, batman.”

     Tim glared at you.

     “I mean, Sir.”

     After you’d first been assigned to Officer Bradford, you’d been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.

     Well, technically your first thought was damn, because you’d have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But you’d quickly quelled that thought—crushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer. 

     So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him. 

     You would be lying if you said that wasn’t how things still were between you two, to a degree—you trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible. 

     But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more. 

     “There!” You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.

     Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off. 

     You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford. 

     “Police! Drop your weapon!” Tim shouted at the man. 

     The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his options—how easily he could take out two cops. 

     “Set the weapon down, nice and easy,” Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.”

     The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground. 

     “The answer was dialogue, by the way,” Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. “Dialogue is the most important  thing when dealing with an armed suspect.”

     “Good to know,” you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. “Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

     The man’s gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands. 

     “Hey, lady cop, you look familiar,” the criminal squinted at you. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said. You’d never seen this man in your life. 

     “I swear—”

     “Hands on the car!” You ordered 

     The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop. 

      “Wait a minute,” the man sized you up before smirking slowly. “Your Paul Cranston’s girl, ain’t ya?”

     You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms. 

     “No, no I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere,” the criminal whispered. “He told me all about you. Hey, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a friendly tip?”

     You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.

     He winced. “So you didn’t hear then? Paul’s out.”

     No. That couldn’t be true. Paul wasn’t supposed to be out for—

     “Boot, you going to cuff him or not?” Tim called impatiently.

     “Right.” You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.

     Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it. 

     Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.

     “Wait, Paul’s got a message for you!” the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. “He said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasn’t gotten his revenge. He’s out—and he’s coming for you.”

     “That’s enough, get in the car.” Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the man’s words played over and over again.

     He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     “What the hell was that?” 

     You looked up to Bradford’s questioning—and furious—face. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him. 

     “Sorry, I—”

     “‘Sorry’ doesn’t stop criminals from escaping,” Tim shouted. “Get your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, don’t you, Boot?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     So much for Tim trusting you. You couldn’t believe you’d almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that name—

     Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. “You know, I should write you up for that.”

     You noticed his wording. “But you’re not going to?”

     He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying, 

     “I didn’t say that. First you’re going to tell me what just happened between you two.”

     You flinched. “It—nothing. It was nothing.”

     “Uh-huh. It didn’t sound like nothing. Who’s Paul Cranston?” 

     You swallowed hard. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

      A million images flashed through your head. Paul’s face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital. 

     You shook yourself out of it. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You swore you’d never talk about it again. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we get back to the station. Don’t we have to book this guy?”

     Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

     “Control, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,” Tim spoke into his radio. 

     And so much for not talking about this now.

     “Can you do that without suspicion of a crime?” You asked him.

     “You can when dispatch loves you.” He winked at you. 

     You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking. 

     “Paul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.” 

     Tim turned his gaze to you. “How do you know this man, Boot?”

     “It’s—a long story,” you told him. 

     “Well then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,” Tim commanded, making a left turn.

     “Can’t you just let it go?” You asked him. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

      He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     You couldn’t fight the shiver that racked your body. 

      Tim’s eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you. 

     “If this is another one of your ‘I’m dying, where are we’ tests—”

     “Boot, focus,” Tim barked. 

     “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern if—”

     “Of course it’s my concern!” Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat. 

     He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, “It’s my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I can’t do that if you’re withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.”

     “Fine,” you breathed. “It was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.”

     “Until?” Tim prompted.

     “Until he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?”

     You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.

     “Apparently, he’d been stealing since high school and turns out he’d lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop and—”

     You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station. 

     “—and he hit me. It didn't stop after that—once he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyone—about the robberies, the beatings—that he’d kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, he’d make good on his promise.”

     Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didn’t speak.

     “But then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested and—and that’s all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.”

     You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and you’d moved on with your life. 

     But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed. 

     “It’s actually why I joined the academy,” you finished. “I wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.”

     You were both silent for a moment. 

     A muscle in Tim’s jaw ticked. “Does the department know?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s all part of my file.”

     “And the guy back there?” 

     You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. “He must be one of Paul’s partners or goons or—I don’t know. I guess he’s been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.”

     The thought made your skin crawl. 

     “I don’t know what came over me,” you kept going. “It’s been years, I just—I didn’t expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it won’t happen again.”

     Tim ignored that. “Do you think it was an empty threat?”

     “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I sure as hell hope so.”

     Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.

     The radio crackled to life. “7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.” 

     “Negative,” Bradford answered the dispatch call. 

     You stared at him, shocked. “Why aren’t we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.”

     “Yeah, I agree,” the suspect chimed in from the backseat. “I think you should take that first.”

      Tim payed him no attention. “They’ll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.”

     “You’re not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?” You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you. 

     “What’s a 215, Boot?” 

     “Carjacking.”

     “Correct.” Tim nodded. “And we’re going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

    “Paul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.”

     You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriend’s file. You stared into Paul’s face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles. 

     Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall. 

      “The department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)’s history with Mr. Cranston,” Grey continued. “And will take necessary action should the situation progress.”

      “So, what’s the course of action here?” Tim crossed his arms. 

     “I’m afraid, as of now, there isn’t one,” Grey said. “Since there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, we’d essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesn’t exactly consider it a threat.”

    “Doesn’t consider it a threat?” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. “How about a charge for threatening an officer?”

    “But Paul didn’t threaten an officer,” you sighed, thinking. “The armed robbery suspect did.”

     “Exactly, Officer (Y/l/n),” Grey agreed. “Basically, our hands are tied.”

     “Then untie them,” Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. “There’s gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure to—”

     “That’s enough, Officer Bradford,” The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. “I appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)’s safety, but we’ve done all we can do. And, for now, that’s nothing.”

      Tim’s concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldn’t figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadn’t exactly done anything to make you believe he’d care so much.

     “Failure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,” Tim said, his jaw clenched. “Who’s to say this guy won’t make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)’s residence.”

     “Tim, its fine,” you said, your voice firm. “Let it go.” 

     They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you again—and that was a good thing. 

     But, then, you couldn’t get those words out of your head.

     He’s out and he’s coming for you.

     Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked so…resolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when you’d walked in on him in the training rooms.

     Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time. 

   “We’ll send a surveillance team to Paul’s location in the morning,” Grey said, turning to address you. “But for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?”

     “Yes, Sergeant.”

     “Good. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way that’s less than exemplary. I trust that’s not the case?” 

     You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier. 

     “No, Sir,” Tim said instead. “My rookies don’t do ‘less than exemplary’. Don’t worry about (Y/l/n)—she’s proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.”

     “Glad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,” Sergeant Grey waved everyone away. 

     You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so. 

     You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.

     “Thanks,” you said. You couldn’t believe he’d told Grey all that—it was the most complimentary thing he’d said about you in your whole time riding with him. 

     “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Tim stated, shrugging. “I expect you to live up to any praise I’ve given you.”

     “Yes, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling.

     “Besides, you’re being trained by me. You’d have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.”

     “And he’s humble too,” you teased. “But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

     “Whatever, Boot.” Tim smiled, shaking his head. 

     “Be nonchalant all you want,” you said, feeling brave. “I know you like me.”

     For a brief moment, Tim looked like you’d slapped him. But then, the flash of—whatever that was—was gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference. 

     “In your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),” he stated. “It’s not about liking you. It’s about training you.”

      You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like you’d just met. “Of course, how could I forget.”

     Tim stayed silent. 

    “Well, I should head out,” you told him, “I’ve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.”

     You’d meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than you’d care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room. 

     You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Tim’s retreating figure. 

     “So how’d you do it?” Bishop looked you up and down.

     “Do what?” You asked, confused. 

     “Get Tim wrapped around your finger,” Lopez answered for her, smirking. 

     You felt your eyes widen. “Tim’s not—” 

     “Please,” Lopez put her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched him train dozens of rookies and he’s never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured you’re either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.”

     You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Tim—together. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it. 

     “No, that’s not—neither one of those things,” you answered quickly. “Trust me, Tim doesn’t give me any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. I actually can’t tell if he hates me half of the time.”

     “We’re not implying anything,” Bishop replied. “Only observing. And he doesn’t hate you.”

     “How can you possibly know that?” You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Tim—that you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you weren’t friends. 

     “Because I’ve seen him hate plenty of people,” Bishop spoke. “And he definitely didn’t look at them the way he looks at you.”

      The way Tim looked at you? You weren’t aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.

     “What are you guys trying to say?” You asked them. 

     “I’m saying watch out,” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Because Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.”

     Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?

     “Um, ok,” you said, blinking. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

     “Don’t believe us if you want, it’s your call,” Bishop shrugged, backing up. “But I’m telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.”

     And with that she walked out of the room.

    “Bishop can be intense,” Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. “She’s got that whole ‘anti-cops-dating’ thing going on—but I do think she’s right about this. Tim’s tough, and I’m sure he gives you hell—but it’s not because he doesn’t like you. I actually think it’s quite the opposite. ”

     Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldn’t even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie. 

     “Well you’ve certainly left me with a lot to think about,” you said finally.

     “Then I’ll let you start thinking—you’re welcome for the peace of mind.” 

     You wouldn’t have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didn’t look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didn’t feel like dealing with right now.

     “And take care,” Lopez said knowingly. “We have your back if anything happens.”

      With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.

    “Right, that. You—you think something’s going to happen?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

     “I think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,” she corrected. “But I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.”

     She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.

     You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.

     You hoped she was right—you just couldn’t say which you hoped she was more right about.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later. 

     When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day would’ve been a police chase or a shootout.  You never would’ve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.

     Funny how things could change so fast.

     Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot. 

     Get a grip, you told yourself. 

     You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.

     You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.

     “What are you doing?” You asked. 

     “Driving you home, Boot,” Tim said. “Get in the car.”

     “Tim, you don’t have to—”

     “That wasn’t a question, give me the keys.”

     There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didn’t really want to fight him. 

     You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh.  

     Tim started the engine. 

     “If this is about Paul, this really isn’t necessary,” you said after you’d been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. “I can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.”

     “You’re a rookie,” Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. “And if the department won’t do anything, then I will.”

     “What—we’re not going to go looking for him, are we?” You asked.

     “Of course not,” Tim scoffed. “I’m not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?”

     “Take a left at the light,” you guided. 

     Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys. 

     “Thanks,” you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.

     You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.

     “You didn’t think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?” 

     “Tim—”

     “No more protests,” he said firmly. “As your TO, I—”

     “No, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldn’t I have just driven my own car?”

     “I don’t let my rookies drive,” Tim walked past you and to the front door. “Even off-duty.”

     You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.

     When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the space—it wasn’t exactly like you’d been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.

      “How many entrances and exits are there?” Bradford asked. 

     “Um, just the front door. And there’s windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,” you said. 

     You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadn’t noticed.

     “Please, Boot,” Tim made a face. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

     “Ok no offense, but I usually don’t let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,” you joked.

     “If that’s an offer, I’m going to have to politely decline.”

     “What—no,” you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. “I just meant—”

    Tim interrupted. “I’m going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

     “Is that really needed?”

     “I’m not taking any chances.” He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor. 

     Your TO returned a few minutes later. “All clear.”

     “See, everything’s fine,” you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim. 

     “Well,” Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say everything is fine. Your storage closet’s a fire hazard.”

     Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?

     “I’ll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,” you said sarcastically. “And if you keep insulting my living space, I’m going to be forced to kick you out.”

     “Bold for someone whose career I could end.”

     “You can’t end my career for that,” you shot back. Paused. “Can you?”

     Tim raised his eyebrows.

     “Only one way to find out,” you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the closet trap you on the way out.

     “Nice try, Boot. But you’re still stuck with me for,” Tim checked his watch. “eight hours.”

     “Nine hours,” you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.

     “You’re right, I should get us drinks,” Tim joked.

     You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

     Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen.  

     “Is all you own ginger ale, Boot?” He called. 

     “There’s six year old tequila in the cupboard,” you suggested.

     “Ginger ale it is.”

      Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. 

     You noted the careful distance he put between you. 

     “What’s this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?” Tim asked, inspecting the couch.

     You smothered a laugh.

     “Get comfortable. It’s where you’re sleeping,” you answered. 

     “Won’t be necessary. If you’re not awake you’re not aware.”

     “So, what, we’re taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?” You asked.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t come here to sleep.”

     “Tim I can’t let you stay up all night while I’m unconscious.” you sighed.

     “You can if it’s an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response time…” 

     You tried not to take offense at that. “Right, Eagle Eye.”

     Tim glared at you. 

     “Angela told me.”

     “Of course she did. And at least I didn’t leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.”

     “Sparky could’ve been involved in the crime,” you said, indignant. “And that was one time!”

     “One time too many,” Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling. 

     “Ok, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?” You shot back.

     “Damn straight.” Tim nodded. 

     “You made no mistakes, at all?” You prompted.

     “Well,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “There was one thing.”

     “Aside from the graffiti incident?”

     “That wasn’t a mistake because it wasn’t my fault. I was following direct orders and—you know what, never mind. If you don’t want to hear it—”

     “No, no, I do!” you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. “And none of that ‘I worked too hard and too efficiently’ crap.”

     “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically. “My first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which was—”

     “Boring and tedious? I can imagine,” you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.

     “I was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,” Bradford corrected. “But anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppy—”

     “You? Sloppy?” You interrupted.

     “Do you want me to tell you this story or not?”

     “Right, sorry. Continue.”

     Tim did. “I’d just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide was…a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.”

      You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you now.

     “Forensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,” Bradford sighed. “But the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my locker—apparently Smitty has a guy.”

     “Tell me you kept them,” you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.

     “Of course not!”

     Tim blinked.

     “Well, not all of them—Isabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,—”

     “Tim—”

     You’d heard about Bradford’s ex-wife. How she’d become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadn’t said so. 

     She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him. 

     “I’m fine.” Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to talk about her…before. She’s on the right path now.”

     You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails. 

     “Are you still in love with her?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t know why you asked—didn’t know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldn’t have even dared to ask that question.  

     But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.

     His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.

     But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. “No. I’ll always care about her and she’ll always be someone that I did love. But relationships change—people change.”

     You nodded. “I get it—I mean, I’m kind of rusty on relationships—but I get it. I actually haven’t dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.”

     It was the first time you’d admitted that to anyone. You wouldn’t have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before you’d just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasn’t on the clock. 

     You imagined this happening more often—you and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didn’t have to end before it started.

     You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely. 

     “Hey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,” you told him, you’re voice soft. 

     “Don’t take it personally, Boot,” he said. “My house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.”

     “I’m honored,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “But you have to admit this has been fun—hanging out.”

     Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.

     Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from you 

     “Listen, Boot—”

     He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound. 

     You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Tim’s hand went to his gun. You did the same. 

     Tim turned to you. “Stay here.”

     “Like hell,” you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.

     If that sound was someone—Paul—breaking in, you weren’t going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you. 

     He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following. 

     “Clear,” he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.

     The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadn’t checked yet. 

     You glanced to Tim, but he hadn’t heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom. 

     You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.

     Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth. 

     Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window

     Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut. 

     Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you. 

     “Did you miss me?” Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand. 

     You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man. 

     “I guess you got my man’s message,” Paul continued. “Because you don’t exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.”

     Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.

     Paul shook his head, laughing. “No, no. If you move even an inch I’ll shoot you right in the forehead.”

     You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.

     “Listen to me,” he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. “I know there’s someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you.  I’d like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, I’m not picky. Is that clear?”

     You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.

     You gasped in air. “Backup’s going to be in here any second and then you’re going back to prison.”

     Tim would notice you were gone. He had to. 

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” Paul smiled. “I’ll be long gone and you’ll be long dead before that happens.”

     You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?

     Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. “Just as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, that’s right. You betrayed me.”

     “And that was the best decision I ever made,” you spat. 

     Paul backed up, shaking his head. “You’ve gotten feistier, baby. It’ll make this so much more fun for me.”

     He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. “This’ll be just like old times.”

     Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Get down on the ground!” Tim growled.

     Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting. 

     You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.

     “You have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,” Tim bit out, his expression murderous.

     “Come on, baby, you’re not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?” Paul appealed to you. 

     You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. “You heard him. Get on the ground.”

     Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists. 

    You took a moment to be amused—of course Tim had off-duty cuffs. 

    “So this ends the way it starts, huh?” Paul shook his head. “You getting me locked up?”

     “Just like old times,” you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.

    Anger sparked in Paul’s eyes before he took on a smug expression. “You’re right. You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

     “Don’t listen to him, Boot,” Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground. 

     “You know I’m right,” Paul’s manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. “You’ll always be that person I knew—the person who loved me. Because you did—love me. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitch—”

      He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.

     “That’s enough!” Tim shouted. “If you ever threaten—no, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you don’t get to make her feel small. If I didn’t think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, I’d kill you right now—screw the department.”

     Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. “Tim, stop.”

     Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody. 

     “And she’s not a victim,” Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. “She’s a survivor.”

     With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.

     “Probably hurts like hell, but you won’t need stitches. Any other injuries?”

     “Um, he hit me in the back of the head,” you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.

     Tim’s hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.

     Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position. 

     “What’s the damage?” You almost whispered.

     Tim’s eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. “You’ll have a nasty bruise, but there’s no external bleeding.”

     Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

     “Are you—are you ok, Boot?” He asked carefully. 

     How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened. 

     “I will be,” you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.

      Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat. 

     “I’m going to call for back up, you go clean that up,” Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. “You need help?”

     “No, I got it,” You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.

     “911, what’s your emergency?”

     “This is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 4.”

      Tim’s voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.

     You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples. 

     Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counter 

     Images flooded your senses. 

     The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.

     Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.

     He’s in custody. You told yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore. 

     You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

      Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.

      You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm. 

      You pictured Paul’s grip on you. His words rang in your ears. 

     You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.

     The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head. 

     You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldn’t. You couldn’t—

     The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.

     You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.

     I’m ok, you tried to tell yourself. I’m ok. I’m ok.

     You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body. 

     “Boot?”

     The muffled voice was closer than the others had been. 

     “Boot?” The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice. 

     “Boot, I’m coming in,” he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open. 

     “Dammit,” he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didn’t look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.

     “Hey, look at me,” Tim coaxed. “(Y/l/n), breathe.”

     He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.

     “Hey, Boot, I got another test for you,” he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.”

     “What?” You rasped, barely hearing him. 

    “Bishop’s an easy target,” he said. “And Lopez is a slob, so you can’t go wrong there. West’s got the whole daddy issues thing. Don’t even get me started on Nolan—”

     You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.

     “And then there’s me. I mean, I’m annoying right?”

     You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly. 

     Tim smiled. “Oh so you agree? It’s ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.”

     When you didn’t say anything, Tim kept talking. “Personally I’d go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and I’m convinced he doesn’t own a decent looking tie.”

     “L-like the—the green one from last week,” you managed, trying to slow your breathing.

     “Leprechauns would call it tacky,” Tim agreed. “Now, since we’ve discussed this from all angles I’m going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.”

     You gulped. “Are—are you going to get me fired if I say you?”

     Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. “I knew it. Guess who’s going back to long-sleeves on Monday?”

     “In this heat wave? You—you wouldn’t dare,” you joked, sniffing.

     “I don’t know, I am the most annoying person you work with—sounds like something I might do.”

     You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal. 

     “There you go.” Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.

     “Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer. 

     “For what, doing my job?”

     You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. “Sorry for um—”  

     “Having a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Don’t apologize for being human,” Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.

     “So, he’s gone?” You’re voice came out small.

     Tim’s expression softened. “He’s gone.”

     You nodded again, looking at the floor.  Tim sighed, reaching an arm out. “Come here.”

You took a step towards him and then you were in his arms, his embrace strengthening you as he rubbed your back. You stood there like that, not wanting this to end. Not wanting to put distance between you again. Finally, he pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze weighted, before taking a few steps towards the door. You looked over Tim’s shoulder.

     “Hey, (Y/n), look at me.” Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. “He is never going to hurt you again, ok? I’ll make sure of that.”

      You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. “I know. And I’ll understand if after…all this, you don’t see me fit to—to be a police officer anymore.”

     Tim’s eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. “With all do respect, Boot, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back there—you’re a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Don’t let it define you because then he wins. You’re a great cop, (Y/l/n). It’s rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.”

     You listened to Tim speak. He sounded so…passionate. Bishop’s words came back to you.

     Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.

     You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. He’d been so kind to you in this past hour—staying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in. 

     And then this. Talking about you like he…like he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that. 

    “So what I’m hearing is, I’m getting a promotion?” You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence. 

     Bradford put up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.”

     You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory. 

     You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century.

     “Now come on,” Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

     “Let me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?” You teased.

     “That’s not true.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Nine-thirty,” he admitted. 

     You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.

     You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself. 

     “Since my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess we’re both crashing out here,” you sighed, gesturing to the couch. 

      Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming. 

     “Or, right, I guess you can go now. Danger’s over.”

     “Are you kidding?” Tim said. “And get to bed even later? I’m not going anywhere.”

     You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational. 

     “I’ll get the blankets and stuff,” you said, turning back the way you’d came.

     “Let me go with you,” Tim offered.

     “I would but they’re in the closet and I don’t want it to trap you or something,” you said. 

     “You think I can’t take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,” Tim challenged and you led him down the hall. 

     A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bed—you were grateful you’d opted for this couch instead of a regular one—and you stood back, admiring your work. 

     “Take the couch,” you told him. “It was your bed originally.”

     “Not gonna happen.” Tim crossed his arms. “It’s your house. And you’re injured.”

     “I’m fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?” You asked him. 

     Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed. 

     “Are you sure you’re ok on that?” You asked. It didn’t exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.

     “Trust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.” 

      You smiled. “So, what, you’re just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?”

     “I can leave, if you’re—”

     “No,” you’re voice came out faster and more sharp than you’d intended. “I mean, you came all this way, I don’t want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.”

     You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change. 

     “We should get some sleep, it’s been a long night,” Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room. 

     “Damn, boot,” you heard Tim’s voice even though you couldn’t see him anymore. “It’s pitch black in here. You don’t sleep with a light or anything?”

     “Well I don’t usually sleep in my living room,” you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. “Wait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?”

     Tim scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

     “Your secret’s safe with me,” you teased.

     “There is no secret,” Tim shot back.

     You winked. “Exactly.”

     “You’re impossible.”

     “Thank you.” You smiled.

     The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down. 

     You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by. 

    “Do you—do you think he really would’ve shot me?” You asked, finally.

     “I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fear—on desperation. He couldn’t have that if you were dead. In his mind, he’d be losing his power over you.”

     He paused. 

     “Besides, I don’t think he would’ve gotten the chance,” Tim said. “He clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.”

     You snorted. “Did you just say ‘badass-ness’?”

     “It’s a word!” Tim defended. 

     You laughed, turning over on your side. 

     “But seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,” Tim said, sounding earnest. “I mean it.”

     “I may just take you up on that,” you responded. “Do you tell that to all your rookies?”

     You could barely make out Tim’s frame in the dark. “No, not all of them.”

     “I’m going to take that as I’m special,” you said. 

     Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.   

    “You know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “But I told them it was just that—crazy.”

     Tim didn’t speak.

     “It is crazy right?” You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. “Right?”

     “Boot, look—” Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadn’t talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears. 

     “Tim?”

     You could hear more than see Tim’s movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat. 

     “Dammit, Boot, I can’t do this,” he finished. “I can’t do this right now, (Y/n).”

     Your pulse quickened. He hadn’t denied it. 

     You stood up. 

     And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secret—made you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragement—or, lack of discouragement.

     But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him. 

     Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.

     And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back. 

     His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.

     It was desperate and raw and passionate—it was perfect.

     You broke apart, both gasping for breath.       

     “Listen, Boot,” Tim started. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You’ve had a long and confusing day—”

     You interrupted him. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. But I’m not confused about this.”

     You brought your lips to his again. This time he didn’t hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt. 

     When you came apart again, he was smiling. 

     “Well, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,” you whispered. 

     “I don’t hate you, Boot,” Tim said. “I actually hate how much I don’t hate you.”

     You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.

     “Boot—”

     “If you’re going to say that this is a bad idea, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” you said. 

     “I thought that was obvious.” Tim stated matter-of-factly. “I was going to say actually I’d appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, because—”

     You laughed, kissing him again. 

     “But seriously,” Tim continued. “You know we can’t do this.”

     “Why not?” You pouted. “If it’s what we both want.”

     “It’s not about what we want—we could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.”

     You knew he was right. Of course he was right. 

     “But is it—what you want?” 

     “God yes,” Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. “It’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard it’s been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do was—”

     He broke off, running a hand along his hair. 

     “Then do it.” Your heart pounded in your chest. “You’ll only be my TO for a few more months, we’ll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.”

     Tim looked at you. 

     “Ok you’re right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know something’s up,” you admitted.

     “I guess I’ll just have to transfer,” Tim joked.

     “What happened to ‘Tim Bradford finished what he starts’?” You asked.

     “Oh I intend to do just that,” Tim whispered. “Are we really thinking about doing this?”

     You thought about the consequences you could face—Tim could face—if it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge risk—one that could get you cut from the program.

     You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long you’d wanted this, even if you didn’t fully know it until tonight.

     And the decision seemed clear.

     “Yeah,” you beamed. “Yeah I think we are.”

     He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.

     “You need rest,” Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. “As much as I’d love to do this all night.”

     You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.

    “What’re you doing?” You asked him.

    “Going to bed,” Tim answered, as if it was obvious. 

    “Get over here,” you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.

    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tim smiled. 

     You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.

     You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.     

    “You know, this will kind of be like doing undercover work—minus the threat of getting killed,” you said. 

     “I don’t know about that—I wouldn’t put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.”

     “We’ll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,” you said. 

     “I’ll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,” Tim agreed. 

     “And that’s different from any other day how?” You shot back, sitting up. 

     “Hey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think I’m going to throw your education out the window simply because—”

     You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

     Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face. 

     “What?” You asked.

     “You’re so beautiful, (Y/n),” Tim breathed. “I’m so glad I can finally tell you that.”

     “Me too,” you said. “Even if it took…this for it to happen.”

     “Speaking of which, maybe I’ll take a sick day tomorrow,” Tim said. “Since there’s no way Grey—or myself—is letting you go to work. What’d you say?”

     You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up. 

     “I say I’m glad your house is being repainted,” you teased. “Because then you’ll have to stay with me.”

     Tim smiled knowingly. “My house isn’t being repainted, Boot. And I’m all yours.”

     You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

     You felt safe, protected in his arms. 

     The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.

     But for now, this was enough. He was enough. 

     “Tim?” You whispered.

     “Hmm?”

     You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. “Thanks for…everything.”

     “What are TOs for,” Tim shrugged. 

     “Apparently keeping the night light business afloat.” You giggled at the look on Bradford’s face. 

     “Shut it, Boot.”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed loves!! i’m so down bad for tim it’s not even funny 😵‍💫