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cinnxmxngxrl · 2 months ago

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“Stormy night”

Pairing: Pre Outbreak!Joel Miller x babysitter!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist here Part 2 here

Summary: You’ve been babysitting for the Millers for months now, admiring Joel from afar. Until one stormy night things gets spicy.

WC: 3,3k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, age gap, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m!receiving).

A/N: I know the babysitter is such an overused trope but i’m just a sucker for fatherly and domestic pre outbreak Joel. This has a little fluff and lots of smut at the end, so there’s that.

You’d been babysitting Sarah Miller for the last six months. Some might think she was a bit old for a babysitter—she was twelve, after all—and far smarter than girls her age. But her father, Joel, mostly hired you for the company. He worked long shifts that often ran well into the night, and he never felt comfortable leaving his daughter alone for so many hours.

And you? You were a typical college student—desperate for a few extra dollars. So, when you saw the flyer on the bulletin board, you didn’t think twice.

You loved working for the Millers. It never really felt like work. Sarah was sweet, and you genuinely enjoyed helping her with her school projects, watching movies together, gossiping, and giving her advice on boys like an older sister would.

Joel was a good boss, too. He always paid you on time, left you and Sarah money for takeout most nights, and always offered to drive you home when it was too late or raining.

And, of course, the looks didn’t hurt. You couldn’t help but admire him when he was around. Joel was a handsome man—rugged and worn, but in a way that made him even more appealing. He was nothing like the college guys you were used to seeing—the ones who couldn’t grow a proper beard, who talked too much and said too little, trying too hard to impress. Joel was the complete opposite. He didn’t need to impress anyone. He barely spoke to you most of the time, but when he did, it caused an impression.

You arrived to the Millers’, the relentless Texas sun high in the sky, making your skin glisten and your clothes cling to your body.

“You brought the nail polish, right?” Sarah asked eagerly as soon as you stepped inside.

“Of course I did,” you said, holding up the small pouch filled with bright colors. “Hot pink and glitter, just like you asked.”

You’d only just settled in when Joel came downstairs. His hair was damp, a towel draped over the back of his neck, and his shirt was tugged down just enough to reveal the faint outline of his chest.

“I’ve got a lot of work today. I’ll be back around nine, maybe a little later. You good with that?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

You nodded. “Yep, that’s alright.”

“Don’t let her stay up past nine,” he said, grabbing his wallet and keys from the table before heading out the door.

You spent the evening with Sarah, painting each other’s nails, watching silly rom-coms, and making dinner together. It was a routine you’d come to enjoy more than you cared to admit.

“My dad has the hots for you, you know that?” Sarah said, her voice muffled through a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah.” You chuckled, your face flushing a little as you nervously laughed off the comment. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“No, I mean it. He’s like… less cranky when you’re around,” she said, swallowing another spoonful. “And he looks at you like those guys do in the movies we watch.” She leaned back, making exaggerated and comical love-eyes at you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “You’re being silly.”

“I’m not. I know him better than anyone,” she said, chewing lazily as she watched you. “But he hasn’t dated in, like, forever. I’ve actually never seen him date. He’s weird.”

You chuckled, trying to brush it off and change the subject. It’s not like you hadn’t wondered about Joel’s love life yourself. You had. He only ever asked you to babysit when he was working, which implied he never had any dates, and you’d never seen a woman around the house.

No. Stop thinking about this. Doesn’t matter if he dates or not. He’s your boss. He’s significantly older than you. Nothing is ever going to happen. You’re being stupid, you told yourself.

By 9:30, Sarah was curled up on the couch, leaning against your shoulder, completely out of it. She didn’t even stir when Joel stepped inside.

“Howdy,” he greeted you, his voice warm but tired. He looked exhausted—dark bags under his eyes, his broad shoulders looking tense and stiff.

“Hey,” you said softly, brushing a few strands of Sarah’s hair away from her face. “She’s out like a light,” you whispered.

Joel gave a small, fond smile as he looked at Sarah, then came closer to the couch to scoop her up in his arms.

“I’m gonna put her to bed,” he said softly as he started toward the stairs.

There was something so endearing about Joel’s dedication to his daughter. Even if he worked too much and wasn’t around as much as he would’ve liked, everything he did was for Sarah, it showed how much she meant to him.

A few minutes later, he came back downstairs, looking even more worn out than before.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice raspy, and with that thick southern drawl of his, it made your stomach twist in a way you’ve never felt before you met him.

“I’m good,” you replied, swallowing nervously. “We had mac and cheese for dinner—there’s a bit left if you want it.”

He hummed softly, glancing over at you.

“So I guess that’s it for today,” you said, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“You sure you don’t want a ride back? It’s pretty dark out there,” he offered, his hand already on the doorknob.

“It’s cool. I don’t mind the walk,” you said quickly. You’d never wanted to feel like an inconvenience, even though he’d driven you home several times before.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home.” He was already pulling his keys from his pocket, moving toward the door to walk you out.

The drive to your place was about fifteen minutes, but with every second spent in the truck beside him, the air seemed to grow thicker. The tension was palpable.

“How was work?” you asked softly, trying to break the silence and ease the tension.

“Well, everyone seems to be assholes who mess up the simplest orders, so you tell me,” he said, his voice carrying frustration, though his eyes stayed locked on the road ahead.

“Sounds terrible.”

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. I chose this hell.” He glanced at you for a brief second before returning his focus to the road. “How’s school?”

“It’s fine. Hard, but I guess I chose this hell too,” you replied, shifting in your seat.

He let out a low laugh, almost inaudible. “You study psychology, right? Makes sense. You’re good with people.”

You smiled. “You think so?”

“I know so. You’re good with Sarah. I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate it.” His voice softened in a way that made you feel a little dizzy.

“Thanks… I really care about her. She’s a great kid,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “And you’re a great dad. She’s lucky to have you.”

He scoffed lightly. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing half the time. It’s all just improvisation.”

“Well, whatever it is, keep doing it. It’s working. You’ve raised an amazing daughter.”

Joel smiled at you—probably the biggest, most genuine smile you’d ever seen him give anyone.

A few more minutes passed in silence before you arrived at your place.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm for a second longer than you should have. You suddenly felt too embarrassed, your face flushed as you quickly got out of the truck without saying another word.

Joel watched you walk to your door, his eyes lingering a little too long. He couldn’t help but notice how your shorts shifted with each step, revealing more of your thighs, and how the strap of your top slipped slightly off your shoulder, showing the edge of your bra.

And he felt like a creep.

Every single time. He felt disgusted with himself. He’d tried to avoid it, but every time you were around, his mind wandered. Like when you’d come over after getting caught in a storm, your white shirt soaked and completely see-through. Or when you were on the floor on your knees, helping Sarah with a school project, and all he could think about was how good you looked on your knees like that. Or the worst—whenever he found himself flipping through an old secondhand Playboy magazine Tommy had left around the house many years ago, just trying to get his imagination going… only for his brain to drift to you. Always you. Until he cummed to the memory of your nipples under that wet white shirt.

Joel felt like the worst kind of man. He was older, a father, an adult who should know better. And yet, here he was, fantasizing about a girl half his age. Even if he never acted on it, it still felt wrong. On so many levels.

The next day, when you arrived, Joel had already left for work. A note on the counter, written in his messy, all-caps handwriting, told you he’d gone out to run some errands before work and wouldn’t be back until around ten.

By seven, the sky had split open like something ancient had broken loose. Thunder rattled the windows, lightning tore lines across the darkening sky, and the rain came down in torrents. One of the worst summer storms in years.

You and Sarah had decided that the weather made the perfect excuse for popcorn and horror movies that probably weren’t appropriately rated for kids her age. But she loved them anyway.

By nine, she was fast asleep on the couch, legs tangled in a blanket, soft breaths rising and falling, completely unaware of the front door opening.

“Holy hell,” Joel muttered as he stepped inside, soaked from head to toe, shaking water from his hair like a dog. He pulled off his boots, leaving puddles on the mat. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a storm like this. Streets are flooded, some trees came down, and they’re closing off the roads. Barely made it back.”

“Gee,” you breathed, glancing at the chaos outside through the window, the trees swaying like they might break.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna clear it ‘til morning,” he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You’re staying here tonight. I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”

“I—thank you,” you murmured.

He glanced toward Sarah, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he stepped over and scooped her into his arms. He carried her upstairs like he always did, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When he came back down a few minutes later, he’d changed into dry clothes. A gray t-shirt clung to the shape of his chest, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends.

“You can take my bed if you want,” he offered as he walked into the kitchen, already opening the fridge. “Clean sheets and all. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, no—I can’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “The couch is fine. I already feel like I’m intruding.”

“Don’t,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I sleep on the couch most nights anyway.”

He pulled out some leftovers and popped them in the microwave.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I had popcorn,” you said with a small smile.

“Popcorn ain’t dinner,” he muttered. He grabbed another plate and started dividing the food between the two of you.

You sat beside him on the barstools at the counter, eating quietly, listening to the distant growl of thunder and the drumming rain against the roof.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said softly.

“I wouldn’t let my biggest enemy out in that mess,” he replied, chewing slowly. “Least I could do.”

Later, you were at the sink doing the dishes, sleeves rolled up, warm water running over your fingers. Joel stood next to you, drying with a dish towel.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said again.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Are you ever gonna stop thankin’ me for every damn thing?”

“Hey, just bein’ grateful here,” you said, grinning as you flicked a few drops of water at his face.

The smile faded from his lips in an instant. His eyes locked on yours. Intense. Heated. Without a word, he reached for your wrist—his touch soft, but firm—and pulled you gently toward him.

You inhaled sharply. His body was warm and solid against yours. His face just inches from yours. His breath hit your skin.

“Joel…” you whispered uncertainty.

“Ask me to stop,” he said, his voice low, ragged. “Please ask me to stop.”

But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you breathed.

And then his mouth was on yours.

It started slow, hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe he was finally kissing you. But seconds later he lost all inhibition, his lips crushed against yours, hungry, desperate, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you tight as he lifted you onto the counter like you weighted nothing.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest heaving.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been dying to do that,” he murmured, voice thick. “I feel like I’ve been losin’ my mind.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his hand moved fast, sliding down between your legs with almost no pretense, just need. You gasped as his fingers found the heat between your thighs—confident, greedy.

“Joel…” you moaned, trying to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

“If you want me to stop just tell me and I will,” he said again, lips brushing your skin as he kissed along your jaw, down your neck.

But you said nothing. Didn’t need to. The way you tilted your head to give him more access said everything.

He slid your shirt over your head, his mouth following the trail of bare skin as he moved down to your breasts. His hand cupped one, thumb brushing your nipple, twisting it softly, before his mouth went to the other one, closing it over it, sucking gently.

“They’re so perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before giving them both equal attention.

You could feel how hard he was through his pants—thick and aching, grinding against you like he couldn’t help it. You rocked against him, searching for friction, for more.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

“I got you, baby,” he rasped. “Gonna make you feel real good.”

His hand slid under your skirt, fingers finding your soaked panties. He groaned at the feel of you—hot, wet, and wanting like he’d never seen before in a woman, and knowing it was all because of him drove him near feral.

He was scared of being way too rusty and out of practice, after all he hadn’t done this in longer that he cared to admit. As a reflex he pushed your panties aside and pressed his thumb to your clit, making you gasp again.

“You this wet for me?” he growled, rubbing slow circles. “Christ.”

Two of his fingers teased your entrance, gathering your slick. “This feel good?”

“So good… don’t stop,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, muffled by the bite you gave his shoulder to stay quiet. Sarah was upstairs, but keeping silent felt impossible with what he was doing to you.

Encouraged, Joel pushed his fingers inside you. Slow at first, careful. Then faster. Curling them, finding the spot that made you see stars—and when you moaned, he knew he had it.

“Fuck, Joel… I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, his thumb relentless on your clit. “Please let me feel you.”

Your hips rocked against his hand. You were barely holding on. Then your orgasm hit, fast and hard, ripping through you. You bit your lip so hard you nearly bled.

He felt it. The way you clenched around his fingers, your whole body trembling, your chest heaving. He looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“That was… I’ve never felt like that before,” you said, breathless, blinking through the haze. “Not ever.”

He stared at you, flushed and wrecked, eyes locked on your blissed-out face. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful right now.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, eager to return the favor.

“You are,” he affirmed, not wanting to force you into anything, but dying to relieve the pain he was feeling in his pants.

“Like this,” You slid off the counter and dropped to your knees, hands on the waistband of his pants with a confidence that surprised even you. “Let me make you feel good too.”

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, watching you. The image of you, down on your knees, eyes wide and eager, was nearly too much.

You pulled his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock. Thick, heavy, already leaking.

Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking slow, building pressure. Then your tongue replaced your hand, hot and wet and perfect.

He groaned loud, his hands gripping your hair—not to push you down, but to keep himself grounded. You took more of him, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling.

“God, baby…” he gasped. “Oh that feels—fuck.”

Your mouth took him slowly, savoring every sound he made, taking your time to enjoy everything, from the curse he breathed out when you licked along the vein on the underside of him to the way his hips jerked slightly when you hollowed your cheeks.

“Stop—fuck, baby, you gotta stop,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t wanna finish yet.”

He hauled you to your feet, kissing you hard as he picked you up and set you back on the counter.

“Need you,” he growled. “Need to be inside you.”

You nodded quickly, breathless. “Yes, Joel. Please.”

He pushed your legs open, standing between them, with one hand he positioned himself, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance.

“You su—?” he tried to ask before you cut him.

“I’m sure.”

He pushed in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, letting you adjust to him. Both of you groaning at the overwhelming sensation. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled. “You feel perfect… perfect little cunt.”

He started moving, each thrust deep and rough, every inch felt like a delicious torture. The wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the kitchen. You bit his shoulder again, muffling your cries so you wouldn’t wake up the entire neighborhood.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concern breaking through his haze of lust.

“I’m alright,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop… harder.”

He obeyed, slamming into you harder, faster, one hand gripping your waist, the other braced against the counter. His name fell from your lips like a silent prayer.

“I’m close,” he gasped. “You feel so good—I can’t—”

He began to lose control, his thrusts turning frantic as his climax approached. He didn’t care about pulling out—not right now—even if it was the most reasonable thing to do. Right now, he wanted to finish inside of you, to feel his cum filling you up until it dripped out of your cunt. He wanted to mark you in the most primitive way.

“Shit—I’m gonna—”

A sharp stillness took over him as he spilled himself deep inside you, cumming hard like he hadn’t in years, painting your insides with his seed.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “I— You— That was—Joel…”

“Incredible,” he said, forehead pressed to yours. “Jesus. I don’t remember ever feeling that good.”

He stayed there for a moment, head buried against your chest, catching his breath.

You stroked his damp hair. Neither of you said anything.

After his intense climax, he felt so vulnerable. All he wanted was to lay down in his bed, arms wrapped around you, holding you all night long, keeping you close and safe, like you belonged there with him. And pretending that this wasn’t something fleeting. That this was something real.

“You’re taking the bed,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And I’m sleeping with you.”

You smiled at him, heart fluttering. “Deal.”

READ PART TWO HERE

‪dividers by: @/saradika-graphics‬

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sarahsmi13s · 8 days ago

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Awful Yesterdays

pairing: tim bradford x swat!fem!reader characters: y/n remingtion (remi), tim bradford, lucy chen, john nolan, angela lopez warnings: language, ptsd, survivors guilt, nightmares, mentions of drugs and drug trafficking (very brief), cop things, mentions of explosions, description of bruises, blood, tim's an ass for a bit, angst with fluff, apologies for the shitty warnings 😅 word count: ~10.9k a/n: requested by nonny -- sent in date: 12/18/2023 summary: after a harsh day on the job and an argument with your fellow sergeant, your injuries and a wicked head cold have you calling into work. tim, having realized how mean and disrespectful he was, comes over to talk it out -- only to find you feeling miserable. he decides to make your lunch while you relax, and in return... he learns the reason you came back to patrol.

“Do you seriously not trust me to know what I can and can’t handle, Bradford?” You shouted to your fellow sergeant, damp hair sticking to your face almost dramatically as the cold rain pelted your hot skin. If you were in a cartoon, steam would be rolling off of you. “I was a damn S.W.A.T sergeant. I can disarm and take down a suspect without a second thought. I can handle myself.”

Tim’s face contorted into his classic snarl, pointing emphatically toward the building you just limped out of. “You call that handling yourself? Seriously? Remington, you took a boot to the face and ribs before you took him down – and God knows how many bruises are underneath your uniform.”

Your chest twinged a little at his words, but you couldn’t tell if it was the implied insult or the cold settling in.

Pushing the held breath out of your nose and holding the cough in, you moved your hair out of your face – smoothing it over your rain-soaked ponytail. “I am not just gonna stand here and let you insult my abilities after I saved your ass today. You don’t have to like me, Tim. But I, at the very least, deserve some fucking respect.”

The other officers, mainly Nolan, Lucy, and Angela, had turned their attention to you and Tim. Seeing two of the biggest and polar opposite personalities argue was amusing – even though they could barely hear it.

“The rain is making this like a romcom. You know, the argument they both have at some point in the movie,” Lucy said, her excited nature pitching her voice up a little. Angela snorted, her arms crossed over her chest, “Except I don’t think they’re gonna make up with a kiss afterwards.”

They watched Tim retort back, his face red and neck muscles taut. Their eyes widened a little when you slightly recoiled at his words before clenching your jaw and getting into the driver’s side of the shop.

Putting his hands on his hips, Tim looked up to the clouds then down at the water droplets on his boots. He glanced over, doing a double take when he realized his argument with you drew in an audience.

“Don’t you three have work to do?” He commented angrily as he got in the passenger side without even looking at them.

Sharing a look, they all got back to work, but they didn’t drop the theories of why you and Tim were arguing.

You winced when you pushed on the bruise on your ribs as you examined your body in the mirror.

The bruising spanned nearly your entire right side, your ribs and hip showing the darkest of the discoloration. Deep reds and angry yellows mostly; though you knew, come morning, they would be deep blues and bright purples.

Your face hurt, though it wasn’t as bruised as you expected. It was splotchy with discoloration. Most of the bruising and pain were localized to your nose, chin, brow bone and under your eyes. You knew you could handle the broken nose, the split lip and brow, though.

But you knew by the time you woke up -hell, by the time you got home tonight- your throat would be sore and your head would be throbbing as your sinuses made it impossible to breathe out of your nose. You were going to have to call in tomorrow.

“Damn…” You hissed as you let your shirt drop. After fighting to take down a perp, how was a dumb cold going to take you out?

You replayed today’s takedown a hundred times. What could you have done differently? Could you have parried a blow here and landed one there? Should you have run ahead of him, cut him off instead of engaging from behind? You were lighter in the patrol uniform, much lighter than the full SWAT gear you were used to wearing. You were faster than he was.

You sighed, rubbing your face and shaking out your hands. There was nothing you could change about the past now. So, you took mental notes and moved on. It was something you had learned while you were on S.W.A.T.: take the victory but understand your faults and apply critiques accordingly.

The takedown you could move past, eventually, but the argument with Tim was irking you. A persistent itch that just got worse when you scratched it.

Normally comments on your abilities didn’t affect you, you knew your worth. Hell, you were one of the youngest sergeants in the department, you were damn good at your job. But Tim’s words really seemed to bother you. Why? Was it because of the authority in which he said them? Saying them with such precision like he had always thought that way about you.

Or was it because you genuinely valued his opinion on your performance? That despite being a slightly higher ranked officer, you looked up to Tim and his confidence in his tactics. So hearing him say you couldn’t handle yourself actually made you second guess your abilities for the first time since you ever joined the LAPD.

It couldn’t be the latter… right?

There was no way you were going to let Tim Bradford get to you. Get you to second guess yourself and the fact you were second in command to one of the best S.W.A.T teams LA has to offer. Not when you worked your ass off to be there.

You scoffed to yourself, pushing the thoughts away and grabbing your leggings before sitting down to put them on.

“Oh damn, those look… gnarly,” Lucy's voice carried over from her locker as she opened it and got her clothes out.

You let out a huffed laugh, looking down to where you knew Lucy’s eyes were staring. “Eh, they’re not so bad. Simple self-defense bruises, get 'em on my arms all the time too. Comes with the job.” You stood and pulled your leggings up, groaning a little at the soreness in your limbs.

She nodded, taking her hair out of its bun before brushing it out as you gathered your bags. Chen watched you, not subtly in the slightest and she knew you could see her, but she couldn’t help it. She thought you were really cool – you were her age if not a year or two younger than her and were already a sergeant.

Lucy had of course looked you up after hearing about your transfer to patrol a few months ago. She had heard about you before and seen you once or twice when S.W.A.T had been called in to assist on a few cases – but she never talked to you much except a “good job” or a “thank you for your help”. But what she learned really made her admire you more.

You had gone to college for Law Enforcement, getting a two-year degree before applying to the LAPD the same day as your 21st birthday. After getting accepted, you went to the Academy and graduated the six month course at the top of your class. You did your year as a rookie, stayed a P2 for 9 months before attempting to qualify for the S.W.A.T academy. Unsurprisingly, you weren’t one of the few selected on your first attempt, but it clearly didn’t deter you. By the next year, you were recruited for the thirteen week course.

You may have been the last recruit picked in your class, but the last 4 years with S.W.A.T really showed the department what you were made of. And when you hit year 5 of being an officer, you were promoted to sergeant after passing the exam. You had served as your team leader’s right hand for the last year before you transferred to patrol.

Lucy’s not sure why you left S.W.A.T, no one is, but she can’t deny you’re good as a patrol officer too.

“I’ll catch you later, Chen. Have a good night,” you said, your hoarse voice pulling Lucy out of her thoughts. “Stay dry, alright?”

The officer nodded, putting her hairbrush back in her locker, “Yeah, you too. Drive safe.” She gave you her signature kind smile as you walked past her, receiving a closed lip smile from you – though it looked more like a grimace.

Lucy’s head tilted a little in automatic curiosity. She could sense something was off with you, even if you seemed completely fine to everyone else. It could just be the fact you kicked major ass barely a few hours ago, but you weren’t as light as you usually were. Your shoulders slouched and your feet drug just a little – the worn tread of your tennis shoes shuffling slightly on the polished concrete floor.

This wasn’t normal for you. Especially not after a successful arrest. Something was bothering you and she could tell. Maybe it was the fact the suspect had gotten the upper hand on you after you had chased him into the old gym, though you clearly came out on top.

She swallowed, turning to you completely as she gathered the courage to say something. “Everything okay? You seem a little… off.”

You sighed a little, the exhale bringing a cough up with it. “Yeah, just um… I’m just tired,” you nodded, coughing again as you circled your face with your index finger. “And I think I might be a little sick. Nothing more than a head cold and a sore throat probably, but I'm alright,” you said before adding. “And I don’t think the bruised ribs or the kick to the face help much. But I escaped concussion free, so that’s a plus. Goodnight, Lucy.”

Chen nodded before she furrowed her brow, your inflection sounding dejected with those last sentences. Then she remembered your argument with Tim at the scene after paramedics checked you out and how she noticed him talking to Sergeant Grey as she was walking to the locker room. Maybe it was something he said. She knows first hand how bad he can be. His comments can be unnecessarily harsh and make you feel like you’re not cut out to be an officer. It’s his way of showing you he cares about you.

She had to say something, to tell you he didn’t speak for everyone if nothing else. “Hey, Sergeant Remington–”

“It’s Y/N when we’re off duty, Luc’, or Remi, if you want to keep it semi-professional,” you told her, cutting her off before she could actually get to what she was going to say. You turned to face her fully and adjusted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder, “But what’s up?”

“I um… I just want to say,” she went up on the balls of her feet, playing with her fingers a little as she cleared her throat. “I just want to say I think you’re a badass. Your takedown today was insane.”

She cringed internally. It wasn’t exactly how she wanted to put it, but it seemed to work.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, her complement lifting your spirits a little. Just like it was supposed to. “Thank you Lucy, and you’re not too shabby yourself. And I’ve heard about your UC work, so don’t try to deny it.”

She smiled at you, clearly grateful for your words, “Thank you, Remi.” Her brow furrowed a little and she laughed uncomfortably, “That felt weird, I feel like Remi’s a name only S.W.A.T should be using. Can I call you Y/N?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding as you looked up at her from your tennis shoes. “Y/N’s just fine, Luc’.” She nodded, thanking you again. “No problem, everyone needs a little reminder every now and then.”

She bit her lip a little and nodded. “Yeah, they do.”

You nodded to her, giving her final smile and a small parting wave, “See you in the morning, Chen. Goodnight.” She nodded, returning your wave before resuming her routine. “Night.”

Watching you leave, she sighed, mentally kicking herself for not just getting straight to the point and mentioning Tim. Maybe she’ll bring it up to you tomorrow.

Tim watched you exit the women's locker room, a slight limp in your step as you cringed a little and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

He scoffed a little and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe you were still planning to come in tomorrow, sore and bruised to hell.

“So what’s the deal between you and Sergeant Remington?” Lucy asked as she came up beside him, her hands slipping into her pockets. “You don’t seem to like her very much.”

“Where do you get that idea, Chen?” Tim asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh and point to his posture. “That. That right there: the pout and the arm cross. You’re getting defensive.”

He scoffed and uncrossed his arms. “I am not getting defensive.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Whatever. But I saw you both arguing at the scene. What was that about? You never seemed to have a problem with her before.”

“Lucy, it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. Because one, we don’t need you two at each other’s throats. And two, she’s a badass and has already done so much with her career – she doesn’t need you being her TO. She knows what she’s doing. She is S.W.A.T after all.”

Tim sighed, crossing his arms again as he looked down at his shoes. He knew he didn’t need to tell you how to do your job – you knew what you were doing. He knew you were capable of the very actions you had done earlier in the day: taking down an armed suspect without even reaching for your firearm. You were a capable officer, that much everyone knew.

And despite what he said to you, he believed you were good at your job. But something about your sudden demotion to patrol after a very successful 5 years on S.W.A.T didn’t sit right with him and it was making him hostile towards you. Everyone believed you’d lead your own team and, hell, become captain one day.

The question was never whether or not you’d do the job. It was: why were you here? What was the reason you left S.W.A.T for patrol?

“So, I’m asking again. Do you two just have a personal beef with each other or something?” Lucy pressed, pretty persistent about why Tim was acting the way he was towards you. Especially after seeing you in the locker room.

Tim looked up at her. “It’s not that I have beef with her, or anything against her. But she’s here for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is.”

Lucy nodded, tonguing her lip, “And you don’t like being out of the loop.” He shook his head and glanced out toward the parking lot as you drove away, “No, no I don’t.”

“Then talk to her, Tim. If you want to know – ask her, man. Because tearing her down like you did today won’t cut it.”

Tim furrowed his brow. “Tear her down? What are you talking about? My words don’t mean anything. Everyone in the LAPD knows she’s capable.”

Lucy scoffed, looking at him and letting out a laugh of disbelief, “You seriously believe that whatever you said to her today – whether or not you meant it – didn’t affect her? I may not have heard what you said to her, but I know from experience. And she didn’t seem very excited about the win today, bruises aside.”

Tim didn’t say anything, his hands moving to rest on his hips as he let Chen’s words sink in and he remembered the genuine hurt he saw cross your face today before you got in the shop.

She sighed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she shifted her weight onto her right hip. “Look, just talk to her. I’m sure if you explain yourself then she’d be willing to listen.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Well, then you better start groveling. Goodnight Tim,” she said, patting him on the shoulder as she left.

He nodded, his head on a lazy swivel as it followed her movements. “Yeah, night Lucy.”

Watching her leave, he sighed again. He knew he’d have to talk to you but he was sure you were stubborn enough to not give him much of anything. Especially after how he had talked to you today.

But, if he wanted to know anything, he had to go directly to you. Lucy had practically echoed what Sergeant Gray had told him when he had gone to him to talk about you.

Tim wasn’t so much worried about you, but the fact you were trained to think like a S.W.A.T officer. He was worried you might lead some officers into situations they weren’t ready for, or your ego would get bigger than you could show up for – resulting in you or multiple other officers getting injured.

He only wanted to make sure people were as safe as they could be in this job. And maybe his words from today didn’t really back his feelings as well as he thought they did.

Yeah… he had some thinking to do.

You sighed as you relaxed back in your seat, looking ahead as your headlights lit up the front of your house.

You looked up and saw your cat in the window, his tail flicking at the disruption of your lights in his face. A smile spread across your face, the tension in your shoulders rolling away as you saw him. You were home and could shake off the weight of the day now.

Turning your headlights off, Duke stretched on his perch and rubbed his face on the glass as you got out of your Bronco. You pulled the hood of your hoodie up and went over to the passenger side to grab your backpack out of the floor.

“Remi! What are you doing out in the rain?”

You turned at the call of your name, seeing one of your neighbors on their porch. “Mrs. Horton, I could ask you the same! You should be inside, you know what I’ve told you about being out here this late, and in the rain.”

The older woman pulled her cardigan around her tighter, clearly cold. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you got home, sweetheart. You’re late.”

You sighed, shutting and locking your truck up. “I know, things got intense at work today. But everything’s okay, Mrs. Horton, promise.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod as she moved to go back inside. “Have you eaten? The grandkids and I ordered pizza, we have some leftovers if you want them.” You smiled at her, but waved off the offer, “I had something at work, but thank you.”

She nodded, “Well alright, you have a good night now.”

“You too Mrs. H.” You watched her go inside, waiting until her lights were off and her blinds were closed before you went inside your own home.

Duke greeted you immediately when you walked in, rubbing his head on your bruised shins as you locked up. “Yeah, hi Duke-ster. I bet you enjoyed today. You love gloomy weather.”

The black cat meowed in agreement before padding over to the kitchen. You laughed softly, triggering a small coughing fit as you walked to the kitchen after him. “Boy, you have food. Don’t even start.” He meowed again, a little annoyed. “Nuh-uh, you are not about to give me attitude after the day I’ve had. Eat what you have, and then we’ll talk about it.”

He let out a small meow before settling for his practically full bowl of food. You rolled your eyes as you shed your hoodie, putting it over the back of a chair. “Drama king.”

You smiled and went back to the living room where your pup was yipping in her kennel, excited because you were home.

“Oh hi sweet girl,” you cooed before squatting down with a grunt to let her out. “You probably need to go outside. Let’s do that and then you, me, and Duke are cuddling up on the couch.” She barked happily and licked your face before running to the back door, pawing at it.

You smiled and stood, “Good girl.”

The next morning, Tim sat in his truck, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he went over the words he would say to you before you had to be in for roll call. He had today off but he wanted to apologize before he lost the courage he had built up.

He had thought about this situation all night and during the drive to the station. What he would say, how he would say it – he tried to plan it all out.

Tim had messed up, he realized that now. His words yesterday weren’t exactly nice – though when has Tim Bradford ever been known to be nice? But it was no excuse for what he said to you.

He may have had good intentions, a concern for the officers under both of your commands, but his words didn’t reflect that. They were harsher, coming across with an air of arrogance and spite.

He had to apologize to you, explain himself better and with more respect than he had given you yesterday. You may be young, but you were skilled and determined, one of the hardest workers he’d ever met. You were right, you deserve respect for what you do.

He finally got out of his truck and walked towards the precinct.

Now or never, right?

Lucy and John watched Tim walk in from where they were perched on Angela’s desk.

“Oh, Tim’s got his thinking face on,” Lopez noticed, a sly grin pulling at her lips.

Lucy turned with furrowed brow before she snorted softly. She leaned down to talk in the detective's ear, “Do you think he’s gonna apologize to Y/N when she gets here?”

Angela scoffed with a laugh, “Tim, apologize? Good joke, Chen.”

“I mean, he could, if he wanted to,” Nolan said, pulling his phone out as it went off in his pocket.

Lucy nodded, agreeing with her fellow officer as he walked away to answer his phone. “Yeah, he apologized to me. Sorta.”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice broke through their conversation. “Have any of you seen Remi at all? I um I need to talk to her.”

Both women noticed him shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Angela arched a brow and stood up, leaning on her desk, “Timothy? You okay? You look nervous.”

“Just need to talk to Y/N.”

Lucy couldn’t help but have a slight smirk on her face, but before she could tease him, John came back from his phone call.

“Sorry, that was Remi. She’s not gonna be in today, called in sick.”

Tim sighed, now feeling a little disheartened in his efforts to apologize since you weren’t even here. “Then I um… I guess I better go…”

“Maybe you could swing by her place, apologize that way,” Lucy suggested before going into roll call with Nolan.

Angela looked at Tim, brow arched quizzically. She rested her chin on her hand as she looked him over. “Apologize? The Tim Bradford is apologizing? Whatever for?”

Her teasing tone was pitched up an octave as she leaned on the desk. She had an idea on why he was apologizing – she was a detective after all. But she also loved to tease her best friend, hence why she wanted to press his buttons and get him to say it out loud – just to confirm her suspicions.

If she had to guess, denial would be his first go to. The whole ‘What would I even apologize for? Telling the truth?’ roundabout game. Or the ‘She’s a police sergeant, she can’t be so sensitive’ rant.

But, in a surprising turn of events, she got a nod from the man.

“Yeah. I’m not apologizing because what I said was untrue…” He nodded as he trailed off before looking down at his boots, “Though some of it may have been. I’m apologizing because I should have been more respectful than I was.”

“Ah,” she replied as she nodded, sitting back in her chair and tapping her pen on the desk “Gotcha. But why? You’ve never cared about it before. Where’s this sudden change coming from? Are you getting soft on us, Timothy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, scoffing at the detective. “No, I am not ‘getting soft’, Lopez. I just… I don’t want there to be any discourse out in the field. We can’t afford letting a small fight get between us.”

“You think a trained S.W.A.T sergeant is going to let her personal feelings impact how she does her job?”

“She’s 28, it’s a little hard to separate your emotions from the job at that age.”

She fixed him with a look but just rolled her eyes. “Just go apologize to her, Bradford, before your ego has time to catch up with your brain.” She waved her hand dismissively at him before she turned back to her case file.

Tim just looked at her before tossing his hands up and letting them slap his thighs before walking back out to his truck.

“Well, guess I’m going to her place.”

When Tim pulled up to your house, he didn’t see your Bronco parked outside – though it didn’t necessarily mean you weren’t home.

He glanced around when he pulled up. Surprisingly, he had recognized the neighborhood, despite the previous run down and overgrown houses looking like they had just been built. He hadn’t been in this part of town in about seven or eight months. Something’s changed in this neighborhood, and Tim had a feeling he was about to learn who was at the center of it.

After gathering the courage, he got out of his truck and went up to the door.

He took a deep breath and knocked, hearing barking come from inside as a result. He didn’t know you had a dog. When did you get a dog?

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you?”

Alert, his head whipped over to see where the voice came from – seeing a woman maybe in her early 60s leaning on the fence. She looked trustworthy, and she was clearly your neighbor. A very close neighbor given how she seemed to be keeping an eye on your door and the garden hose she would happily spray Tim with if he was a threat.

“I um I’m Sergeant Tim Bradford, I work with Sergeant Remington,” he told her honestly.

“Oh,” she said, a small nod of recognition. “Y/N’s mentioned you. And I’m sure I’ve seen you around before when you had a lot of calls out this way.”

Tim nodded. “I’m sure you have. It’s been awhile since I’ve been called out here though. Any idea what that’s about?”

Mrs. Horton smiled at him and leaned on the fence. “We’ve got Remi to thank for that. She moved here and things slowly started to change. It’s been nice and the kids around here trust her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Tim said, his voice unexpectedly fond. Though he didn’t hate it, he could admit what you did here was something to admire.

He nodded toward the door, “Is she home? I need to talk to her. Work stuff.”

Mrs Horton shook her head, “No, she went to the grocery store. I told her I would go since I know how she doesn’t like being questioned about the bruises she gets from work. She should be home soon though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She nodded and sent him a smile before returning to her garden, leaving Tim awkwardly standing on your front porch.

He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face before going back to his truck – getting meowed at by your cat when he walked by the window.

The moment you turned the corner and onto your street, an audible sigh left your mouth when you saw the silver Dodge parked on the street in front of your house.

You knew it was Tim’s truck even though you were yards away from it. And based on the outline of the person, you could tell he was inside of it. The only thing you couldn’t come to a conclusion on was why he was at your house in the middle of the day – on his day off.

Especially with how nice it was. It was a perfect day to be outside.

If you had the day off, and didn’t cough up a lung every time you inhaled the wrong way or your shins didn’t hurt with every step you took, you would have taken your dog on a hike. You knew Tim loved being outside when it was nice, he always talked about going to the range or taking Kojo out to play.

So, why was he parked in front of your house?

You shook your head a little, groaning when it throbbed in protest, as you pulled into your spot and parked. You sat there for a moment, collecting yourself and letting the aching in your body subside before you got out.

You were seriously regretting turning down Mrs. Horton’s offer for her to go to the store for you.

Instead of ignoring the silver elephant in the street and taking your groceries inside, you turned off your truck and got out before going over to his driver side window.

Might as well get it over with now instead of making him come to your door and knock.

He had rolled his window down when he noticed you walking over. He almost got out to meet you in the driveway, but he figured it’d be easier to stay in his truck if you told him to leave – probably safer too.

You crossed your arms in front of you. “What are you doing here, Bradford?”

You were still very frustrated and hurt by what he said yesterday, in front of your coworkers no less. It was embarrassing. It doesn’t matter if you thought you were justified in the actions you took – Tim called you out in front of them and embarrassed you.

“Can I not just come by and see a coworker?”

“No, you can’t. What do you want?”

You didn’t have the time, nor the energy, to play this game with him. You just wanted to see what he wanted and go inside so you can have your soup.

He sighed and nodded, “I just need to talk to you. I was gonna talk to you before you went out on patrol this morning, but you called in sick.”

You furrowed your brow as you glanced around, “You came all the way out here to ‘talk’?” His nod only made you scoff. “After what happened yesterday, I highly doubt you came out here to just talk.”

“I want to talk about yesterday… What we said, mainly what I said. Can I come in?”

You cut your eyes at him, “What is there to talk about? I think you said plenty yesterday.” You’re not usually this snappy, but your head was pounding and your body was aching. The heat was also aggravating your fever. So, you were just annoyed at everything at this point.

“Y/N, please.”

The look on his face was nothing short of desperate, an expression you’d never thought you’d see from him.

You huffed and dropped your arms to your sides, “You’re carrying the dog food.”

Turning on your heel, you went to your backseat to get your armload of grocery bags. When you didn’t hear his truck door open or shut, you glanced over your shoulder. “Move it or lose it, Bradford. You wanna talk, get out and help me carry this stuff in.”

Tim shook himself out of whatever trance he was in and got out. He locked his truck before going over to yours and getting the dog food out of the back.

He followed you to the door, standing next to you as you unlocked and opened it. You led the way inside, going straight to the kitchen with Tim and your pup on your heels.

“Oh yeah, hi Dahlia, I know I know,” you cooed to the bloodhound puppy as she pawed at your legs. “I know, let me put these away really quick and I will take you outside.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile when he heard you address the puppy as he shut and locked your front door for you.

He’d never really heard you talk like this before – softer but pitched up ever so slightly. Normally you had a very professional tone, authoritative and strong. Though, since you were in the comfort of your own home, you didn’t need to be in work mode.

“Meow”

Tim paused his stride and looked down at the black cat sitting in his path and looked up at him curiously.

“Duke, that food’s not for you, you have food,” you said, your tone slightly annoyed but held a gentle, almost parenting, tone. You hadn’t even turned around from where you were putting things away, you just knew exactly what the cat was doing.

Tim just chuckled to himself and stepped around the black fluff ball on the ground. “Where would you like me to put this?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion for a second before you registered his question. “Oh um, just there by the bowls are fine. I’ll refill the tub later.” He just nodded and followed your instructions, setting the bag on the ground next to the dog food bowls.

Dahlia yipped at your feet, pulling at your shoelaces as you tried to put groceries away. “Nien, Dahlia. Stoppen,” you slightly snapped, your finger pointed down at her. “Sich hinlegen.”

The young pup seemed to understand you and stopped pulling on your laces, moving to lay down in front of your fridge.

Tim let out an amused huff, crossing his arms as he leaned against the island in the middle of your kitchen. “I didn’t know you spoke German. Or that you were training your dog to learn those commands.”

You looked over your shoulder at him before going back to setting out ingredients.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Bradford. You just think you know things.”

Okay… he deserved that.

He nodded, his tongue pulling his lip between his teeth for a moment. “I didn’t know you used to

work for K-9.” You hummed, not looking up. “Well, that’s because I didn’t.”

“Then how-”

“Because she was a recruit. She failed out because she’s nearly completely blind in one eye. She was trained for a few weeks and learned the basic commands. She knows them in German and a few in English.”

“Oh,” was really all Tim could respond with.

The silence following his response was awkward. Tim felt awkward just standing there in your kitchen. It was clear you had your guard up from how you weren’t really talking to him or facing him. You weren’t scared of Tim in any way, but he had insulted you barely a day ago and now he was in your home. You had every right to not want him here.

A heavy, frustrated sigh left your lips, breaking the silence as your hands smacked the bar.

“You came here to talk Bradford, so talk. My body feels like a two-by-four. My face and ribs hurt every time I cough or sneeze, and my sinuses have so much pressure in them I’m dizzy if I think for too long. I just want to make some soup to eat and go to sleep.”

You took a few deep breaths, letting the headache subside a little before you continue. “So, just say what you have to say so I can do that.”

Tim looked at you sympathetically. You really did look exhausted. Standing up looked to be a chore and you were sweating, despite the AC being turned up.

“Why don’t you go shower?” He suggested after his observation.

You looked at him confused, “What?”

He gestured to you. “You’re probably covered in sweat under that hoodie and those leggings. Take Dahlia out and then go take a shower. A hot one. The steam will clear up your sinuses and relax your muscles. While you do that,” he stepped closer to you, nodding to the ingredients on the counter. “I’ll make you soup.”

He half-expected you to tell him you could do it on your own and to screw off.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you seemed to relax, a breath leaving your lips as your eyes closed briefly. “You won’t poison it, right?” You asked, a brow quirking up as your eyes opened. Tim couldn’t help but chuckle and nod, “Promise.”

You nodded back, running your hand over your face, “Thank you, Bradford. That helps me out a lot…”

“No need to thank me. Now go so I can work,” he told you as he waved you out of your own kitchen.

You sent him a small smile and stepped away, “C’mon Dahlia, let’s go outside.”

Dahlia’s head shot up, her ears flopping and her collar tag making a small ringing noise. You nodded at her, “Yeah, I said outside. Let’s go sweet girl.”

She got up quickly and, in her haste, she slipped on the tiles a little. You covered your mouth to keep from laughing at the sight as Dahlia trotted over to you.

“Okay, we’ll be right back,” you told Tim as you opened the backdoor. Once he nodded in acknowledgement, you stepped outside with Dahlia.

The moment you stepped out of your comfortably air conditioned home and back into the California summer, the sweat pooling on your skin was immediately noticeable. The humidity from the night rain making you feel unbearably sticky.

Your hoodie no longer felt soft. It was heavy and constricting, sticking to your damp skin in the most uncomfortable way.

“Oh nope, gross.”

You peeled the thick, itchy fabric off of you, Dahlia none the wiser that you didn’t follow her out onto the grass. She ran around the yard, rolling in plush grass and somehow not tripping on her floppy ears.

“Oh dear, you did have a long day yesterday.”

Mrs Horton’s soft, motherly tone drew your attention to the fence separating your backyards. You smiled softly at her, she always checked up on you if you ever told her you had a long day. When you moved in, she’d taken to you immediately, treating you like a daughter just as much as a neighbor.

You walked over to her, leaning on the fence as she gave you a gentle smile.

“Yeah… doesn’t help that my sinuses decided now was a fantastic time to act up,” you grumbled, but you couldn’t stop the rough chuckle.

She gently rubbed your arm. “And now you have a guest.”

You chuckled again, following it with a rough cough this time. “Yeah, not exactly an ideal situation. But he’s actually being helpful, so it’s not awful.”

Mrs Horton nodded, opening her mouth to say something before she was cut off by someone calling out to you.

“Hey Remi!”

Your head whipped over, Dahlia barking at the new voice. But you recognized the owner immediately, sending him a smile.

“Hi Dizzy.”

“Aye, what happened?” The young man asked, gesturing to his face in reference to the bruises on yours.

You sighed, hanging your head. You knew people would ask, you got stopped a few times at the store by concerned shoppers. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly won’t be the last.

“I saw the truck in front of your place, he do that?”

You immediately shook your head. “Oh no no, it’s not like that, Dizzy. I promise. This happened at work yesterday. You know I can’t hold down a man for long.”

Dizzy chuckled and leaned on the fence. “I mean, I could fix that.”

Both you and Mrs Horton laughed. This was a normal occurrence with Dizzy if you ever mentioned dating. You’d make a comment on being broken up with, he’d reply saying he would be the solution for your ‘broken heart’. It was all in good fun – you both knew it would never go past banter.

“I’m 10 years your senior, Diz,” you told him, like you alway do.

“Ah,” he dismissed, waving a hand and clicking his tongue. “That don’t matter.”

“Maybe try again when you’re 28, D. Graduate first.” You smiled at him before taking in what he was wearing. “You goin’ to work?”

He nodded, adjusting his uniform shirt with a grin. “Yes ma’am, Jack’s got me workin’ a few hours today. I needed the overtime.”

You nodded, pointing in the direction of the mechanic shop. “You better get goin’ then, don’t want you to be late.” Dizzy nodded, waving goodbye to you and Mrs Horton before jogging down the alley.

“You really got him turned around, Y/N. That’s the Desmond I remember,” Mrs Horton said softly.

Dizzy had been a part of one of the gangs in the neighborhood. Nothing more than misdemeanors on his record, but he had been caught up in a suspected carjacking and it would’ve been marked as a felony – with added assault charges because the victim had been injured.

But you managed to convince the DA to cut him a deal. He hadn’t been the one with the gun, nor the one to drive the car. He was just a reluctant tag along. Neighbors and witnesses said Dizzy wasn’t a leader, not in a violent way.

You had moved into the neighborhood just before all of this happened. And after, you were hellbent on getting Desmond set on the right path. He wasn’t a violent kid, he’d just been a little lost after his sister was killed and his father got sick. He didn’t know where he belonged, and the gang gave him a place to go. But you knew, deep down, it wasn’t where he wanted his life to go.

“I just got him started, he’s been doing the rest,” you said, just as softly as she had.

She smiled and patted your shoulder. “That’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint you, dear. You’re a very important person in his life, a support system he has had since his sister died.”

You sighed, nodding before glancing behind you to see Dahlia sitting by your sliding glass doors – patiently waiting to be let in.

“Better head in. Bradford was nice enough to make my lunch while I shower.”

Mrs Horton nodded, before a small call of “Nana!” came from the screened in door. “I better head inside too, we’re going to the water park today and they’re excited.”

You laughed softly as you both turned to go back inside. “Have fun!” She waved to you as she bid her goodbye, “Oh they will! Feel better dear!” You nodded, playfully saluting her before regretfully jogging up your porch steps.

Hissing at the pain shooting up your shins in protest, you grabbed your hoodie and slid open the door.

“We’re back,” you announced as you opened the door.

Tim looked up from the cutting board, freezing slightly at the sight of your arms. Defensive bruises littered your forearms, offensive ones marked the backs of your biceps and your knuckles. You put up a hell of a fight, and you walked away with the proof.

He gave you a nod, gesturing to the stuff around him with his knife. “Alright, I’m still getting stuff prepped. So, take as long as you need, and then add a little more.”

You nodded, dropping your hoodie off in the laundry room as you went toward your bedroom. “Yes sir, Sergeant.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcastic tone in your voice, how you’re saying his title like a petulant teenager. He tossed a carrot at you, watching the orange vegetable hit you between the shoulder blades before falling to the floor to be gobbled up by Dahlia as she followed behind you.

When you got into your bedroom you immediately stripped down to your underwear. You were covered in sweat and your sinuses made your head feel like a bowling ball. You really did need this, a calm and relaxing shower – or a bath. A bath sounds nice.

Dahlia followed you around your room as you grabbed clothes, comfy shorts and an oversized S.W.A.T t-shirt, and laid them on the bed. “Dahlia, baby, you’re going to need to let me have some me time.” As much as you loved the pup, you weren’t bathing with both your bedroom door open and your bathroom door open – at least not with Tim down in the kitchen.

You led her to the door and gently booted her out into the hall with your foot, closing the door before she could turn around. You felt your heart tug when she whimpered and barked a little at the closed door, scratching at the bottom of it.

Shaking your head a little, you go into the en suite bathroom, grabbing your towels and putting them on the hook next to the bath. You pulled out your phone, sitting it on the cabinet you have next to the tub before you stepped in and turned the water on. You let the water get hot before you mess with the temperature, letting the water get just a little too hot before you plug the drain to let it fill up.

You stepped back out of the tub, letting the bathmat soak up the water dripping off your feet as you knelt in front of the cabinet. Opening the doors, you grabbed the vanilla bubble bath and the Epsom salt. The salt should help soothe your aching muscles, you weren’t entirely sure how it worked but it didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. As long as your body stopped hurting, you weren’t concerned with the how. The bubble bath was because you felt awful and wanted fun bubbles, a tool used to boost personal morale. But peppermint was going to be the next essential part of this bath. Your sinuses felt like a pressurized container that was on the brink of exploding all the time but could never quite get there.

Sniffling, you reach back into the cabinet, blindly searching for the bottle of the essential oil.

“Ugh, shit.”

You groaned, cursing yourself as you pushed yourself off the floor. You’d run out of it the last time you had congestion, using the last of it in a bowl of hot water and on a warm cloth you draped over your face. In your confusion of Tim showing up at your house to him offering to make you soup while you relaxed, you had forgotten to grab the essential oil you bought.

Grabbing your towel, you trudged back through your room and opened the door.

“Hey Tim-”

You stopped when you almost ran right into the man’s chest.

“Oh geez!”

“Sorry sorry,” Tim apologized, averting his eyes. He held his hand out, a small plastic bottle in his palm. “Found this in one of the bags, figured it was for your congestion.”

You looked at the bottle, nodding as you took the peppermint oil. “Yeah, thanks. I was about to come get this actually.”

“Looks like I beat ya to it-”

You nodded again, coughing and turning your head away. The tickle came up suddenly and violently, rattling your chest and scratching your throat. Your face throbbed with each rough, forced exhale.

Fuck, you hated having a head cold. Not to mention the beating your body had taken the day before making the body aches so much worse.

Finally, the fit subsided and you looked back at Tim. He was looking at you concerned. His brows were pulled together as his eyes scanned your face.

“What?” Your voice rasped, strained from coughing so hard.

He didn’t even say anything as he reached for your towel.

“Ah! Tim, what the hell!?” You yelped, pulling on the terrycloth in an attempt to get him to let go. But he didn’t.

“Hold still, Rem!”

“Why?!”

“Because your nose is bleeding!”

You stopped, lips parting a little as they suddenly felt sticky and warm. Your coughing fit must have aggravated your broken nose and you just hadn’t noticed the blood until Tim pointed it out.

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna get blood in it,” Tim ordered gently as he tilted your head forward. He wiped your lips and under your nose, keeping his gaze on your face in fear of wandering too low.

He applied pressure to your nose, hoping to stop the bleeding before your bathtub overflowed.

You looked back at him, watching his face carefully as his deep blue eyes scanned the bruises on the bridge of your nose and under your eyes.

The concern showing on his features wasn’t something new, you’d seen it before. But it was normally directed at Lucy or Angela, and on the special occasion, John. In the few months you’d been with the Mid-Wilshire station, you’d never been shot a look like this – not from the stone-faced Sergeant Bradford.

And after how he yelled at you yesterday, you were sure you’d never receive one.

But right now? This was the softest look you’ve received from him. His eyes, while alert, were rounded. His lips were parted slightly and downturned into a gentle frown. Tim was worried about you.

“Paramedics said I wouldn’t need a nose job. A win for me, I think.”

You had to break the silence. The rushing water filling the empty air was making you anxious. Tim had just been looking you over like you’d been shot and you didn’t know what to do.

He blinked, pulling himself out of his focus.

“Oh, yeah yeah. That’s good.”

His tone was distant, lost in the thoughts filling his mind as he kept pressure with the towel.

You arched a brow at him, his concern adding onto your confusion from before. “That might change if you keep pressing the towel into it like that.”

He shook his head and let up a little, but didn’t pull away. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to get it stopped.”

You gently push his hand away, mirroring his concerned look back at him. “Thank you, Bradford. I’m alright though. Just a little nosebleed.”

Tim’s eyes went to the towel and back up at you. “Little?”

You looked down, the white back of the towel covered in deep red blood. “Oh damn, it was worse than I thought…”

He cleared his throat, tilting your head up a little with his hand on your forehead. You let him look at your nose for a few seconds before stepping back.

“My tub is gonna overflow if I don’t get back to it. And I don’t know what step you’re on but if you don’t get back in there, Duke is gonna make a feast out of whatever you left out.”

Tim chuckled, relaxing finally. “He’s already tried to take the chicken. However, I did cave and give him some. I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded, laughing lightly. “Oh yeah. I spoil them both from time to time. Especially since it’s usually just me here, unless it’s family dinner night. I try not to let anything go bad.”

“Okay good. I did give Dahlia some, too.”

“Good, she would have felt left out.”

“Oh, she did.”

You both laughed, sharing a moment of oddly comfortable silence afterwards. It was nice. The tension between you and Tim had seemingly melted away.

Until you realized you were standing there in your bra and panties and he was holding a bloody towel.

You cleared your throat, looking at the bottle of oil in your hand. “Welp… I should-” You gestured aimlessly toward your bathroom.

He nodded, clearing his throat as well. “Yeah, yeah. Do you have another clean towel?”

“Mhm, I have my stash in the bathroom. There’s peroxide in the other bathroom. If you’ll put the towel in the tub and just let it soak, I’ll scrub it later.”

Tim arched a concerned brow at you, chuckling at the instructions. You swatted at his arm as you went to your bathroom, scoffing. “I was a manager of the basketball team in high school, I cleaned my fair share of bloody towels. Girls can be ruthless.”

He held his hands up, walking back into the hall. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Remington,” he teased as he closed your bedroom door.

You rolled your eyes at him and went back to deal with your definitely almost full bathtub.

After your bath, Tim had finished making lunch and you both sat in surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate.

You both sat on the couch, enjoying your chicken and dumpling soup on opposite ends. Dahlia sat with you, resting her head on the back of your thigh and curling up comfortably in the open space between your legs and the backrest of the couch.

“Thank you, Tim. I really appreciate you making lunch. And dinner will be much easier since it will be the leftovers,” you said softly, a yawn threatening your words. “There are leftovers, right?”

Tim chuckled, nodding, “There are leftovers, yes.” He finished his last bit of the soup and stood, earning a little swat from Duke for disturbing his rest. He eyed the fluffy assailant playfully, earning a raspy chuckle from you.

As he began to walk toward the kitchen you stopped him.

“Oh oh, are you going to the kitchen?”

His eyes narrowed a little. “Yes… why?”

You hold out your bowl, smiling innocently. “Will you take mine? Just put them in the sink, I’ll do them later.”

“Your legs work,” he said, but was stepping towards you anyway.

“Yeah, but I’m sick and you’re already heading there,” you countered as you pushed the bowl into his hand. He took it and rolled his eyes, but you could see a small smirk on his face as he went to the kitchen.

You yawned while his back was turned and made yourself comfortable on the couch. Lunch was sitting heavy on your stomach, in a good way, and your eyes were getting heavier by the second. You didn’t fight as sleep took over you.

Tim walked back into the living room from putting both of your bowls in the sink and found you passed out on the couch. “That was fast,” he sassed softly, though he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He’d seen you relaxed, sure. During the days you were desk bound, or moments you were bonding with other officers – smiling and laughing with all of them. But something about this was different.

You were one hundred percent calm. No furrowed brow, no tense jaw. Your eyes were closed, not analytical or scrutinizing. Your arms, littered in bruises under your hoodie sleeves, were wrapped around a pillow, not tense and ready to defend you. Your legs, also covered in deep, discolored splotches, were curled underneath your blanket, not braced to run.

This was a side to a lot of officers no one saw. The part of them the public, and even fellow officers, weren’t privy to witnessing. The human part of them.

Grabbing the remote, Tim turned the volume down on the tv and adjusted the blanket on you, giving Dahlia a quick pet as she stirred. You hummed softly, shifting a little at his touch. Your face turned a little, moving it from where it was smashed into your pillow. He sighed a little to himself, looking over the bruising on your face. He swallowed and clenched his jaw a bit before looking around your house.

He wasn’t going to leave. He came over to apologize and talk with you, he was going to do that. But he could wait for you to wake up on your own. He didn’t have anywhere to be.

“Might as well make myself useful.”

Tim stepped out of the guest bathroom, his damp hair spiked up from running a towel over it.

While you slept, he made himself busy with general chores around your house. Nothing invasive, he didn’t wash your underwear or go into your room. The laundry he did consisted of towels mostly, since he couldn’t really ruin those.

He did the dishes, cleaning up his mess from cooking and putting away the leftovers. He filled the dog food tub. He decided to clean the house: dusting, sweeping, mopping – hoping this was enough to help keep your sinuses from getting irritated.

He even went as far to do yard work for you. Which is why he was getting out of the shower now, thanking himself for having a change of clothes in his truck.

Before he even made it to the living room, he could hear Dahlia whimpering.

With a furrowed brow, he tossed the towel into the laundry basket and walked around the corner. “Dahlia, what’s wrong?”

The bloodhound pup was awake and on the floor, pulling at the blanket covering you before moving to lick your face. She was trying to wake you up.

Tim looked at you, searching for why Dahlia was so upset. You seemed alright at first glance but looking for a moment longer, he can see the distress on your face and hear the soft cries falling from your lips.

He swore under his breath, knelt next to the couch. Now that he was closer, he could see the tears streaming down your face.

He knew being this close to you could end badly for him if you woke up, especially if you woke up still in the throes of your nightmare. But he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore.

As his hand grips you bicep, you jolt awake with a gasp. In an instant, your hand wraps around his wrist in a harsh grip. Panting sobs left your lips, tears still soaking your skin as you looked around frantically.

Dahlia started barking, high pitched yips filling the otherwise quiet house.

Tim held his hands up, not attempting to break your grasp. “Hey, hey, Y/N it’s me. Remi, it’s Tim. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wide eyed, you let his wrist go and sit up. You wiped your cheeks, clearing the tear tracks from them as you sniffled. “I… I um- sorry. I didn’t even realize-”

Tim shook his head, moving to stand. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to leave you like that…” He moved to sit next to you on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was softer and more gentle than you’d ever heard it before. “It looked pretty intense. It might help.”

You looked him over, seeing nothing but sincerity and concern. But you could see the searching gaze, too, analyzing your entire being.

Suddenly, your hands are much more interesting than the perceptive blue eyes watching your every move. Swallowing, you crossed your legs and pushed yourself back into the corner of the couch.

“You don’t have to tell me, Remi,” Tim said softly as he picked Dahlia up and placed her back on the couch.

“No, no you deserve to know. After all,” you cleared your throat as you pet Dahlia, still avoiding looking directly at Tim. “You came all this way to talk. So… I’ll talk.”

He nodded, turning fully toward you to give you his full attention.

A moment passed and you stayed quiet, letting all of your thoughts come to you. When they did, you let out a soft, slightly raspy sigh.

“About six months ago,” you started, head tipping back as tears already began welling up in the corners of your eyes. “My team and I were raiding an abandoned factory. A drug trafficking ring was operating there, according to our sources.” A shaking hand threaded its fingers in your damp hair as your gaze fixated on the wall in front of you for a moment before going back to your lap.

“When we got there,” your teeth bit down on your lip to hide its tremble, “we managed to get a few of them. The um… the decoys, the fall guys – whatever you want to call them.” A bruised forearm wiped at your cheeks, smearing hot tears across them. “I… I spotted the head guy, their leader, ‘Umbrasyl’. I notified Burke before taking off after him…”

A quivering breath rattled your chest as more tears slipped down your cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to stop them now.

Sniffling, you continued. “I caught up with Umbrasyl, called for back-up after I had tackled him to the ground. It was a struggle to get him into handcuffs. He squirmed and managed to get us flipped-” You shook your head, waving a hand and scoffing a little. “That part doesn’t matter. What mat-ters…” your voice broke but you kept going. “What matters is that I was so caught up in getting him in cuffs, that I didn’t notice the dead-man’s switch he was holding.”

You didn’t even have to look at him, you could feel Tim’s body go rigid at the detail. But he stayed quiet, letting you finish.

“He was unconscious and I had him in cuffs, that’s all I saw until it was like the air itself was still before the world shook.” The next inhale you took made Tim cringe. It sounded like air rushing through broken glass, raspy and no doubt painful. “I was close enough to feel the heat but far enough away to not be hurt by the explosion.”

You wiped your tears again, frustrated that they wouldn’t stop simply because you wanted them too. Tim gently nudged you, a tissue pinned between his fingers. You gave him a small, but grateful smile as you took it. “Thanks, Bradford…”

His heart clenched at the sight of your face. Purple bruises broke up the red splotches on your cheeks. Tears and snot dampened your skin. Your lips looked irritated and chapped.

This wasn’t the headstrong officer he saw in the shop with him, nor the peaceful civilian sleeping on her couch. This was a heartbroken woman in front of him.

He managed out a soft ‘of course’, and his hand came to rest on Dahlia’s lower back – keeping it in reach in case you might need it.

“I didn’t even wait for other officers to get there, I turned and ran back into the building.”

You must have heard Tim’s thoughts before he could say anything because you were answering his unasked question.

“My team was in there… I wasn’t going to just watch.” You set the now used tissues aside and rubbed your face. “It was hot… It was so hot, Tim. I didn’t know if my blood was boiling from my adrenaline or the flames, but I didn’t really care. I had to get my team out…”

“And did you?” Tim felt like he knew the answer, but decided to ask anyway.

You nodded, clearing your throat as you adjusted your position. “Some of them. I got Riley out and Cunningham was running inside to get who he could… Only Riley and I made it out fairly unscathed. When-” Tears coated your words. “When I went back to get the others, the building collapsed. More flames and embers kicked up into the sky. Fire was on the scene and managed to get Cunningham and Nguyen out. But their injuries… they won’t be in the field ever again. And the rest… the rest of my team didn’t go home that night.”

A sob finally pushed past your lips, but you cut it short and looked at Tim. “All because I wasn’t careful…”

Silence sat in the air for a moment. Neither of you knew what to say after that. What could you say?

Tim decided to break it with a deep, disappointed sigh. Rubbing his face, he spoke. “I.. I’m so- Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it… I had no right to say what I did yesterday. It was out of line… Especially knowing what happened-”

“You’re right,” you said, voice cracking and dry. “You didn’t have a right to say that to me.” You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed. “I look up to you, Tim. I do. So what you think of my work as an officer means a lot… I also know that I worked my ass off to be where I am. But when you said that I was dangerous for what I did to get that suspect yesterday and that I could have gotten other people hurt–”

“Y/N-”

You held up a hand to cut him off. “I get it, Tim. I really get it. What I did was risky, I know that. But what you said… it hurt, a lot. Because I think about that night everyday. Every. Damn. Day.”

“I never would have said that if I knew…”

“I know. Except, I understand why you did, Tim. And while I was hurt by it, I knew you were coming from a place of leadership, a place of looking out for your fellow officers – your friends.”

Tim nodded, confirming your statement. “I was. And I was just… your sudden switch to patrol made me nervous. But I could have phrased it differently. My tone towards you, no matter the circumstance, was unacceptable. And for that, I am sorry. You were right, you deserve more respect than I gave you.”

You gave him a gentle smile and nodded, “Thank you. For your apology and helping me out today.” You held out a hand, “To better tomorrows?”

He smiled and took it. “To better tomorrows.”

hello loves, i hope you enjoyed this! especially you nonny, if you're still hanging around 😅 it took a lot long than i meant for it to to finish this -- but i wanted to make something i was proud of that fit the request. i did take a huge creative liberty in why tim and remi didn't really get along but i still hope you like it!

if you did like it please let me know! whether it be a like, comment, reblog, or send me letter letting me know how you feel! keep it kind and respectful, love y'all!

taglist: so um... it's been a while since i've posted a fic so please forgive my lack of a taglist. if you like this and want to be notified when i post a fic or moodboard please follow me here -> @vinnys-recordcollection

also thank you to @teacupsandtopgun and @startrekfangirl2233 for beta-ing this for me, love y'all 💜

#awful yesterdays #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x swat!reader #tim bradford request #request #the rookie #the rookie fanfic #sarahsmi13s

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charliemwrites · 2 years ago

Note

it is my borfday. I am now 20 whole years. So I ask: 1fur1 reaction to readers borfday? I have 1fur1 thoughts but they aren't ready yet... They're still cooking

Happy Borfday!!!!! Two decades 🎉🎉

Okay just for you, bean - I’ll make it a full part too, even. This is very fluffy up until the end when it gets just a hint of spice.

(No human boys in this one, sorry!)

You haven’t said a word about it all week - and why would you? You live alone with three dogs. It’s not like they care that it’s your birthday; or even understand what time is, really. (Except for dinner time of course.)

But the day of your birthday dawns, a little rainy. You let yourself sleep in a bit, mumbling five more minutes three times in a row when Ghost nudges impatiently at your cheek.

Eventually you do get up though, giving each of your boys a crooning “good morning” and laying kisses on their precious heads. You stumble to the kitchen to start your coffee, even pull out the fancy beans you reserve for special occasions. While it’s brewing, you start gearing up the boys for their morning potty. The precipitation is mostly mist right now, but you’d rather them not smell like wet dog.

You’re trying to belt a wiggly, impatient Johnny in when your phone rings. Huffing, you tap at the speaker icon and try to wrestle the stupid hood over his big-ass ears.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” your mom trills through the phone.

At the noise, Johnny thankfully goes still. You finish securing his raincoat and turn to Konig. Thankfully, he’s much more cooperative about getting dressed - even if he takes every opportunity to lick your face.

“Uh, thanks,” you answer. Honestly, you were hoping she’d forget.

“What are you doing today to celebrate? Going out with friends? Maybe a date…?”

You roll your eyes as you finish adjusting Konig’s (custom) raincoat.

“Definitely not. I was just gonna stay in, order some food, drink some wine…”

You haven’t even finished before your mother is protesting.

“No, no, no, you need to do something special! Not every day is your birthday.”

And thank fuck for that, you think, shaking your head.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you insist. The boys crowd as you lead the way to the back door and prop it open. They seem oddly reluctant to leave your side. You assume it’s the rain and shoo them off, your mother still on speaker.

“Well if you won’t do anything, I will.”

“Ma, you really don’t need to—“

“Dinner will be at 6:30. Don’t be late!”

And she hangs up. You groan, run a hand down your face. Well. At least it’s only dinner. You can still do the rest of your plans.

“Boys!” you call, noting that they’re mostly just congregating at the edge of the yard. They instantly return to your side, even Johnny - who has a tendency to make you chase him in the rain.

They each file inside, sit and behave while you remove their raincoats and hang them to dry. As usual, they follow and crowd while you make up your coffee. Add a bit of whiskey just for fun; you won’t need to drive for a while.

The boys climb onto the couch with you, happily arranging themselves in a warm circle. Konig at your back like a living pillow. Johnny on your right, head in your lap. Ghost just in front, pressed against your shins and warming your feet.

You settle in with a contented sigh and sip your coffee. Even put on a show you’ve been meaning to get to.

Midway through the episode, Ghost slips off the couch and slinks off. You notice in the back of your mind, but he tends to be the moodiest of your boys and figure he just wants some alone time.

When he comes back, you hum at him, kissing his muzzle as he takes your other side. As the next episode is loading, Johnny hops down.

“Biiiiig stretch,” you coo, grinning as his back legs extend. He wags, licks your hand in parting, and trots off. You hear the doggy door clatter, figure he didn’t do all his business after all.

About an hour later, the doorbell chimes. You jump, but… the boys are oddly quiet. Usually they’d be rioting that someone dares come to the door. This time, though alert, not so much as a growl.

Put off, you pad to the door and check the peephole. Just a delivery man with a… frankly monstrous bouquet.

You open the door, prepared to tell him that he’s made a mistake. But he says your name and address and tells you happy birthday, gently handing it over.

You blink as he saunters back to the truck, almost don’t notice Ghost standing sentinel right beside you.

“Huh,” you muse, finding him watching you. “Who d’you think ordered me flowers?”

He makes a little “ruff” noise. You snort and close the door. It’s a beautiful arrangement, you must admit. All your favorites. It even came in a vase!

You inhale the sweet scent and sigh, unable to keep from smiling. Usually you think flower arrangements are a bit silly, so expensive for something that will last so little time. But it’s been ages since you last got one and someone clearly put thought into it.

You offer each of the pups a sniff, laughing when Konig sneezes a bit. You set the vase on the kitchen counter where it won’t become a casualty of any enthusiastic tails and you’ll get to look at it regularly. Try to look for a card but there isn’t one.

Hopefully, whoever sent it will reveal themselves by asking if you like it.

You settle on the couch again with a lingering smile, scratching at Ghost’s ears when he presses his face against your shoulder.

Another hour passes in peace when there’s another knock at the door. Again, the dogs stay eerily quiet. This time, you’re greeted with a huge bag of items.

You unpack it on the couch, Johnny sitting by your knee. A new plush blanket, a pretty mug, a video game you’ve heard good things about, the next book on your reading list, your favorite candies, and even an expensive new pair of headphones (since Johnny ruined your last ones).

You let him sniff curiously at each item, amused by his involvement in your gift unwrapping.

“Wow,” you breathe, staring at your pile of gifts. “This is more than I’ve gotten in years. I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

You start by eating some of the candies. Johnny’s tail wags furiously the entire time, even when you remind him that candy is Not For Him.

At some point in all the craziness, Konig’s scurried off somewhere. Not surprising, you figure. All the guests must have made him shy. He’s not a fan of really anyone but you.

Eventually he returns, though, and you’re sure to welcome him back with praises and kisses before he climbs into his spot. You happily return to your show, scratching absently at your snuggly pack.

Just around noon, there’s one last knock at the door. Your favorite takeout place, including a box of the really good German pastries that you never let yourself get more than once every other week. Fresh baked too!

You hum happily as you eat, wishing you knew who to thank for it.

“I feel utterly spoiled,” you laugh as you save the rest of the pastries for later. “I definitely don’t deserve all this.”

A deep bark nearly startles you. Konig. He hardly ever makes a peep!

“Listen to you, baby!” you coo, wiggling your fingers to entice him closer. He comes to your side instantly, chin on your stomach, staring up at you with big mismatched eyes. “Such a lovely voice. Ich liebe dich, Herr Konig.”

He wags happily at you, a big, silly canine grin on his face. When you duck down to hug him, he leaves kisses all over your face and neck.

By evening, you’re in a good enough mood that you’re not completely dreading the visit to your parents’ house. You get dressed, kiss each of your boys goodbye, and leave.

It’s not… bad per se. Sure, your mom makes your sister’s favorite meal, and your dad doesn’t even realize why you’re there at first. Your sister’s husband also keeps making weird comments about you being single and your biological “clock” but—

Well, you’re just there for dinner. At least your mom made homemade cookies; a classic you’ve always enjoyed. But not even that is enough to make you stay longer than absolutely necessary, making your excuses that Konig still gets separation anxiety.

The drive home is long and you feel exhausted from putting on the “grateful daughter” song and dance. When you pull up to the house, though, you perk up when you see another package.

It’s a… basket? You carry it inside, too dark to see what it is on the porch. Immediately greeted by the boys, you don’t get a chance to look at it at first. But once you do…

It’s a self care basket, you think. A ridiculously nice bottle of wine, a bath bomb, body cream, sugar scrub… a bottle of the lube you always use. New lingerie. A toy. Not just any toy either. One you’ve been putting off buying because it’s close to a hundred pounds and you’ve got three big boys to feed.

At first you think it’s your ex but…. No. No, everything in this basket is things you’d pick for yourself. Things he never knew you well enough to buy. And he’s too cheap besides - and too much of a stuck up dick to ever dream of patronizing adult toys.

You hesitate over it. But….. well, you’ve already brought it inside. Doesn’t matter if you use any of it or not; and it’s stupid to let it go to waste.

So you feed the dogs and wander to your room.

And it. Is. Decadent.

You linger in the bathtub for way too long, giggling at the sparkles in the water, sipping wine and nibbling on German pastries. Even sacrificed one of the roses from the bouquet to let the petals float in the water. Start the first couple chapters of your birthday book, sigh and talk nonsense to your boys, all of them lingering in the doorway but behaving.

And when you finally get to bed, you run the battery out achieving your “birthday orgasms”. (Remain shockingly uninterrupted by any of the boys.)

Sometime before midnight your dream of gentle hands cleaning you up, pressing kisses everywhere. Voices whispering “love you” and “happy birthday”.

It’s the best one to date.

(Again, happy borfday!! I love you and I hope this was a good gift 💕)

Main Story | Konig pt.2 | Price pt.1

Masterlist

#asks #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #1fur1 #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

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thewayhouse · 5 months ago

Text

'A Slight Miscommunication'

Castiel x Reader

-> Gender neutral reader -> Slightly susggestive - kissing -> Miscommunication trope -> 1.5K words -> Author's note at the end

'A Slight Miscommunication'

The rain pitter-pattered on the motel roof, thunder raging in the distance. You watched the raindrops on the window race each other to the bottom, silently rooting for one. It won. Smiling at your small achievement, you took a sip from your glass, whiskey burning your throat in a mild sensation.

You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been on this hunt for two weeks now and it was beginning to weigh on you all. It was some vampire sightings that Dean was positive were real, we didn’t believe him but begrudgingly went along with it due to lack of any other cases. Now Dean was starting to question whether they were real or not. He wasn’t singing along to the songs on the radio anymore, and Sam was barely touching any of his books. Cas was mostly the same, but there was no one to balance out his usual monotone behaviour, so things were starting to get drab. Even you, one who wasn’t one to give up on a case so easily, was starting to rethink that self-proclaimed title.

“Hello”, a monotone voice from behind you spoke, making you jump in your seat and whip your head around. “Cas, you’ve gotta make more noise man,” I took a deep breath, calming down my heart from the sudden high, “you’re gonna give someone a heart attack sneaking up like that.” “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you”, he walked around and sat down on the chair opposite you, “I just wanted to talk about something that happened earlier.” “Oh?” “At the diner, with the waitress.” He said, trying to jog your memory, and it worked. Earlier, the group had gone to a local diner to get some lunch, a little break from our searching. You and Cas walked in and sat down at a booth first; Dean couldn’t find a parking spot in the carpark of the diner, and Sam wanted to make sure he got one with shade covering Baby. So the brothers drove off bickering after dropping off you and Cas. When the waitress came round to get your orders, she had said something along the lines of “So, what can I get you two love birds today?” To which Cas had said nothing, and told her that you were waiting on others. “Oooh, double dates are always fun. I’ll come back later” she’d responded. Before she left however, you corrected her “we’re just friends actually. And we’re waiting on two other friends, who are brothers, so…” She apologised and went to go serve another table. When you had looked back at Cas, he seemed off, but you couldn’t press further, Sam and Dean had arrived. “Oh, yeah, that.” you took another sip of whiskey, the ice clinking together, before you continued. “Yeah, what was that about Cas? You looked off, but I didn’t want to pry-” “No. I want to talk about you. Why did you say that to the waitress?” He looked genuinely confused, even a bit hurt. “What do you mean? I corrected her because we aren’t dating.” You looked equally as confused as him, both staring at each other. “What made you think that?” he scooched forward on his chair, the old frame creaking slightly beneath him, “of course we’re dating. We have been for months now.” “What?” “Did- did you not know?” You both sat there, staring at each other for what felt like hours, both as baffled as the other. The deafening silence finally broke at Cas’ words. “I courted you, you accepted, we’re dating. Is that not how that works with humans?” “No- no that’s how it works, I guess. But when did you court me?” you began stuttering over your words out of both bewilderment, but also out of embarrassment. Maybe flustered is the better word. Either way, you were beginning to feel a heat spread across your cheeks, one that said everything you were thinking, and had been for months now. Yes, you had had a crush on Castiel for a while now, almost a year now, longer even. Through that time, you had assumed that angels did not have those kinds of feelings. Even if they did, you didn’t think Cas was one of them; until now of course. “I have cooked you your favourite food on multiple occasions, I asked you to dance with me and you accepted, and I have defended your safety countless times - of course I would protect anyone, but it felt different with you” Castiel answered. Those things didn’t really sound like romantic things to you, in fact they’re pretty standard platonic actions, which made you press further. “Okay… but you said I accepted?” “Do you remember when I first showed you my wings?” You did remember.

He had asked if you wanted to see them, to which you had excitedly responded. Neither Sam nor Dean had seen Cas’ wings, one of the few aspects of his true form that humans were able to see in moderation without dire consequences; so naturally, you felt honoured and a little aloof with the fact that Cas let you see them and no one else. He had ushered you into the bathroom at the motel you were all staying at and locked the door so no one would walk in on the display. You remembered that he had seemed nervous to show you, but you’d assumed it was nerves relating to your safety, hoping it wouldn’t be too much for you. When he did show you, after the initial shock, he’d asked if you would clean them for him. Actually, the word he used was ‘preen’, but it was basically the same thing, right? “Yeah, I remember. You had me clean them because it was too difficult to do it yourself.” “Exactly, you preened my wings,” Castiel took a breath, shaking his head, baffled that he had to explain this to me. “Did you not know that that is a common courting method for those with wings?” He continued, “you accepting and preening my wings for me was you reciprocating the courtship.” Shuffling in his seat, he finished with “I thought it did anyway.” You sat there for a moment, taking this all in, face flushed, gripping your whiskey. “I…” unsure what to say, or how to look at Cas in the eye after hearing how oblivious you’d been, you stood up. Placing your now empty glass on the windowsill beside you, you anxiously tidied your crinkled shirt and cleared your throat. One, two, steps forward. Now standing in between Cas’ legs, you reach out and grab his tie, pulling his head upwards into a kiss.

It was unexpected to say the least, for both of you. You don’t know why you did it, but it just felt right, and boy did Castiel’s lips feel just right too. The sweet scent of honey and whiskey filled your senses, making a deep aching sensation drip into your chest. Kissing an angel, how holy and devoted does that sound. How dirty and blasphemous. No matter, it was heaven if you’ve ever felt it. The soft lips of the angel pressing against yours in a soothing motion, nothing could compare. Nothing in your mind but him, nothing but him. The sound of Cas’ muffled surprise fluttering through your body, only making you want more, trying to drag more out of him. It wasn’t too much use though, you needed to breathe. Reluctantly you pulled back, your scattered breaths mingling with each other. You stumbled backwards slightly, letting go of his tie, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-” Castiel had cut you off, standing up and taking a step forward. “No, don’t be,” he took your hands in his, tracing small circles on your palms with his thumbs. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” his voice was soft, gentler than it usually is. Entwining his fingers with yours, he pulls you closer, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. “Was that you… agreeing?”He glances down at your hands for a brief second before looking up again, “to this whole thing, I mean. To us… us being together.” “Well I guess it wasn’t me so much as agreeing if we were already dating,” you chuckled, “albeit without me knowing at first.” Castiel let out a sigh, letting out all the tension he didn’t realise was building within him, “I’m glad.” One of his hands made its way up to your face, carefully brushing a piece of hair behind your ear; it cupped your cheek. You leaned into Cas’ warm palm resting against your face, the feeling both foreign and familiar.

“You know,” you began, “I’m glad you said something… I have liked you for a while.” “And you said nothing?” “No. I didn’t think angels could feel anything like that, so I just never bothered.” Castiel shook his head, almost in pity. “Oh dear,” breathed the angel, “I have a lot to teach you, Love.”

Author's Note

Let me know if you'd like a continuation of this short, cause I honestly really enjoyed writing it.

Heyy, I hope you enjoyed! It's [technically] my first time posting something like this, I usually keep my fanfics to myself, but no more! Idrk what else to say so uh, my requests are open, and buh bye!

-> divider made by @/benkeibear

#castiel x reader #gender neutral reader #castiel spn #castiel fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #A Slight Miscommunication #spn fanfic

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luxaofhesperides · 8 months ago

Note

puddle

Your writing is amazing btw

Danny is usually fine with the cold. He's got an ice core, he's practically made for the cold. But Gotham autumn cold is another monster, especially when it comes with so much rain.

The city is constantly damp and dreary, switching between sprinkling on and off to a heavy deluge of rain.

Listen, he can handle the cold but not the cold and wet. That's just asking for too much.

He says as much to Duke over the phone, peering out from under the awning of the theater he's trapped at, hoping the rain will let up soon. It hadn't been raining when he left the apartment earlier to watch a movie, killing time until Jazz got back from her internship with Gotham's social services, so Danny had been caught totally unprepared when he stepped outside and got hit with a spray of rain as a bus drove past.

Duke laughs at him, his voice carrying a little static over the phone, and Danny pouts. No point in hiding it when no one's around to see it.

"How have you not learned to always carry an umbrella with you by now?" Duke asks, amusement coloring his voice. "Hasn't it already been a year since you moved here?"

Danny pouts and stares out into the heavy sheets of rain coming down just a few feet in front of him. "I was running late to the showing so I didn't check the weather! And it was almost nice out earlier so I thought it would be fine."

"Alright, new question: how have you not learned to stop trusting Gotham's weather? If it's good, then it'll get worse. If it's bad, it'll stay bad. That's how it is."

"This city is out to get me," Danny complains. "If I get sick because of this rain, just leave me to die."

"You're so dramatic," Duke says fondly.

"You would be too, if you were stuck out here." He takes a step to stand just beneath the edge of the awning and peers up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds hang above the city, hiding the sky from horizon to horizon. The wind isn't strong today, which means the clouds are barely moving. No doubt the lower streets have already begun to flood, water rising as storm drains struggle to keep up with the heavy rain. He sighs and reaches back to draw his hood up to cover his head. "I think I'm just gonna have to make a run for it."

Noise erupts from Duke's end of the call; rustling, doors slamming, metal moving. "Wait, stay where you are! You're at Harbor Theater, right?"

"Yeah."

"Give me like ten minutes. Don't move!" And then the call ends without another word, leaving Danny to blink out at the rain, confused. He pulls his phone away from his ear, stares down at the screen where "Call ended" stares back up at him, and shrugs.

Sure. Okay. This might as well happen.

He retreats back to the door, more protected from the rain, and leans against the brick wall of the building to wait. It's only ten minutes, and he's not in a rush to do anything else today, so he can wait. As long as he stays mostly dry, he'll be fine.

Despite his many complaints about the rain, Danny does enjoy Gotham storms. They're quiet and steady, with only the really big storms carrying thunder into the city. The storms in Amity Park were always loud, with howling winds and earthshaking thunder, lightning flashing nonstop until it was over. Compared to that, Gotham rain is peaceful; the steady patter of raindrops against windows is soothing and has made him fall asleep more than once. As long as he's safe and warm inside, he likes the rain.

As it is, when he's outside and stuck hiding beneath an awning, he very much does not like the rain.

The street is mostly empty as everyone with common sense is inside where it's dry. A few cars pass by, driving fast despite how hard it must be to see, and send water splashing towards him. He's just outside the splash zone, thankfully, but that doesn't stop him from glaring and muttering curses to those drivers.

Danny sighs again and closes his eyes, hoping to make the time pass by faster if he makes his mind drift.

It doesn't feel like it's been ten minutes when he hears Duke call his name. It barely even feels like five. Danny opens his eyes and pushes off the wall, looking down the street where he can see a bright yellow umbrella moving up and down as Duke runs through the rain to meet him. Did he really run all this way, just to get Danny an umbrella? That's really sweet. Danny bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too much like some kind of lovesick fool.

Which he is, to be fair, but he doesn't need to show that.

"Dude," he says when Duke reaches him, stumbling to a stop under the awning to catch his breath. "Did you seriously run from your place to here? Don't you live on the other side of Gotham?"

Duke shakes his head and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I was nearby," he says, gesturing vaguely behind him, "Don't worry about it. You heading back home?"

"That was the plan, yeah."

"I'll walk you then. C'mon."

Duke offers his elbow as though escorting Danny to the ball. Danny takes it, stepping beneath the umbrella, so cheerfully yellow it almost feels aggressive. "My hero," he teases. "My knight under yellow umbrella."

"Listen, it was the only one I had that wasn't broken and it was a joke gift from a friend."

"A joke gift?"

"It's a Signal umbrella. Look at the handle."

Danny looks. The curve of the handle ends in a bat symbol. "That's amazing," he says, biting back a laugh as they step out into the rain. The umbrella protects them, but he can see that both their shoulders are getting wet; it's hard to fit two bodies beneath one umbrella. He pulls at Duke's arm, tugging him closer, so they can both fit more securely under the umbrella, walking arm in arm down the street.

It would have been nearly perfect if it wasn't for the fact that the streets were full of rainwater and a step into a puddle too big to avoid leaves his shoes and socks wet.

"Aw, man," he groans, frowning at his shoes. "I just can't win today."

"You used up all your good luck calling me," Duke jokes.

"Worth it, if it gets me you," Danny says without thinking. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and regrets because flirting with Duke has become a habit when they became friends, and it's a dangerous habit know that Danny's figured out his massive crush on Duke.

"Sweet talker," Duke retaliates. He's unfazed, carrying on normally, so Danny relaxes. As long as he can keep his crush quiet alongside his many other secrets, he's fine.

Leaning into him a little more, Danny ducks his head to hide a smile as they keep walking. Under one umbrella, together under the sheets of rain, it feels like there's no one else in the world but them.

Maybe there is something to enjoy about rainy autumn days.

Even if it ends with him walking home in waterlogged socks.

#ghostlights #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #prompt fill #duke hears that danny is stuck in the rain and quite literally leaps at the chance to walk him home sharing an umbrella #hes read the romance novels. hes watched the romance animes. he knows how this goes lol #casual romantic duke my beloved

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gremlinmodetweeker · 8 months ago

Text

(the rare) Ghost's Empire of Icks

I'm gonna be honest, I think a lot about Ghost, but I don't put much to paper. I think that it's because maybe I write so much König that I don't have much time for the big Brit. I do like him, but ya know, time. And energy too. However, today I woke up and I chose British. I must be true to my heritage.

Art from This Post

So! Ghost is rather different from the others because I suspect that every spark of joy in this man's heart is naught but a wee ember. He's genuinely such a massive killjoy it's insane.

There is no doubt in my mind that Ghost is the hardest person in the 141 to get along with. Not because he's mean, he's just... Flat.

See, the problem with Ghost is that he makes jokes all the time, it's just nobody but the 141 team picks up on them.

Ghost has the driest black British humour known to mankind. It's insanely hard to tell when he's joking about having beaten a man to death for a cup of coffee or if he actually did it. The problem is that there's a very good chance he isn't joking, but who's gonna tell the you that he's not? It's funny to watch you try and figure it out yourself.

Struggle, bitch.

That's essentially the T141 motto when it comes to figuring out Ghost's character. Gotta learn to earn, baby.

But the thing is, a pattern starts to form.

Whenever something goes wrong, Ghost will make the flattest joke you've ever heard.

*Car breaks down* Ghost: "Whelp, looks like we're walkin' boys. Cheer up, it's only a ten mile hike. We'll be there soon enough."

That's how subtle his humour is. You might genuinely mistake it for optimism if you didn't know him better. It's hard to follow sometimes, his jokes can be a wee bit cerebral, but he's a funny guy in all honesty. Not bad company after all.

Ghost might be the hardest person to really get in the 141, but if you crack the code he's absolutely hilarious. He genuinely is! It's just usually the most sarcastic one-liner you've ever heard.

If it's not hard to get Ghost's jokes, it's easy to understand how he feels about good ol' Great Britain.

He's a bloody patriot.

Patriotic to a fault.

That's not to say he can't take a joke, of course not. Hell, he's cracking them half the time. He is totally fine with laughing off how shitty his country is

But if you genuinely mean it? If you genuinely think Britain suck? Oh he has words. Maybe not out loud, but he's judging you hardcore.

You don't like the rain? Tough. Rain's what makes the Englishman a hardened man.

You don't like all their slang? Get used to it. If he can learn American slang to get your movies and use South African to go undercover, you can learn his. He's pretty petty about this too.

If you think Britain has a lot to answer for? He does agree, he's not going to advocate for colonialism and genocide, but also 'the past is the past so there's not much use dredging it back up'. He's a bit of a prick about this actually. I could have a lot to say to him, but he's too patriotic to really accept any faults.

He's also just really obnoxious about anything British. If it was invented by a Brit? He'll be sure to bring it up (notably will not bring up the fact that the inventor was actually Welsh/Scottish/Northern Irish)

Tying in with his patriotism, Ghost is a bit... Stubborn. He's a bit of a stick in the mud, if you will. Bullheaded to a fault. He'll refuse to admit to something going wrong in his life in any way shape of form. Unfortunately, this mostly shows up when his hearing bothers him.

"Once went to a concert in Stonehenge. Crackin' good concert, but I got a ringin' in my ears for weeks afterwards. Still got it, if I'm gonna be honest."

"Wasn't that when you enlisted in the military? You know, started doing firearms training?"

"Well yeah. Why?"

It will take ages to get Simon's attention. Not because he's not interested, but because he just can't hear too well. When it's quiet he can filter noise easily enough, but if you're trying to get his attention in a club it's next to impossible.

When he's in loud situations, he's learned to rely a fair bit on lip reading. He'll never admit it, of course. He can hear just fine, you know.

He is too stubborn to take a hearing test. You'll just have to suffer with yelling at him when he's just in the next room or having to go hunt him down in the house whenever you need to get his attention.

Speaking of, finding Ghost is a whole issue in and of itself. He's a big man, about 6'5 (maybe a bit under but nobody would dare question him), and pretty broad. However, when he's moving about, he's entirely silent.

The problem with this is that Ghost likes to walk around quite a bit. If you leave to go do some shopping and ask him to wait outside the changing rooms, he'll bugger off and do his own thing.

You can't call his name, but you can try his phone. You just have to hope he has it on him. Or that it's charged, he's horrible for keeping it uncharged.

He's a bit of a menace with his sneaking off. Usually it's fine, but sometime you need him right now and he's off in the ether doing whatever

You'll get a phone call from the bank that he needs to take immediately and you'll spend the next fifteen minutes scurrying around the house trying to find him. You can't call his name, you just have to hope you find him as the person on the other end of the line steadily grows more irate with each passing minute.

It's a genuine nightmare scenario that you have to go through on a monthly basis

Once you find him, he's under his car in the garage fixing something and he's completely oblivious as to why you're so upset.

"If you needed me so badly, why didn't you just yell my name?"

You're going to kill him in his sleep one day.

Anyways, those are just some of my thoughts. I think he's a big gross man but I love him. He's just so grumpy all the time that it's fun. Grumpy, sarcastic, bitter. The perfect man.

Ghost Dump

Ghost Headcanons

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applecidersturniolo · 2 months ago

Text

rainy days.

( coffee & conversations au.)

in which..record shop!matt and barista!reader have their first real interaction.

you walk into the shop, slightly shaking off the water droplets that have landed on your coat. your nose is filled with the scent of teakwood and vanilla, rubbing the souls of your shoes along the rug you hear the sound of matt rummaging through the boxes, doing his daily stock before you guys open.

“hey matthew,” you hum with a small wave as you make your way to the café section of the small building, “hey y/n,” matt mumbled back, his eyes focused on the task as hand. you shrug off your coat and hang it on one of the hooks, grabbing your apron from the other, you walk behind the counter as you tie the fabric around your waist. at this point, you’re locked in, quick on your feet. the soft hum of the record player that is spinning the ‘sling’ album by clairo fills your ears while you fill the beans to each grinder, add cups to the pile, put more sugar in the containers and add the pour toppers to each and every syrup.

you’re snapped out of your trance when you ear the bell ring, the bell that customers love to slam when business is booming, mostly little kids. but when you turn around you don’t see a impatient old woman who is gonna complain that her coffee is too bitter or a grumpy toddler who can’t keep their hands to themselves, no. you see matt, who has a soft smile on his face as his hip rests against the marble of the counter, “you got any chocolate chip muffins?” he asked drumming his fingers against the hard surface, “i do,” you reply simply, a small smirk on your face as you tug open the small fridge to pull out the prepackaged pastry, you weren’t sure why matt was so obsessed with the goodie, he’d have one before every shift, it wasn’t like it was a fresh and warm baked good, it was a slightly cold prepackaged chocolate chip muffin from a company that you are pretty sure elementary schools order from. you toss the package over to matt and he catches it with ease, “ ‘m gonna have to start charging you, you know? swear your mom is onto us” you giggled, matt smirked as he opened the plastic, “yeah, yeah. what is she gonna do? fire me?” he scoffed.

the day goes on and the rain gets harder, sure, a few customers have strolled in, but not enough to keep you entertained. your eyes wander to the opposite side of the shop where matt stands, he’s behind the cashier counter, his palms against the cold granite as he nods his head at his mothers words,

“i’m just tellin’ you honey, i think it would be a really good thing for you! you could fix this place up f’me..im sure you’d get more customers if you revamp!” mary lou encouraged, matt huffed a breathed and ran his hand through his brown locks, “i don’t know, mom. becoming the owner? that’s a lot of responsibility that i just..i don’t think i’m ready for all that.”

mary lou tilts her head, “well jus’ think about it for me, okay? please”

matt nodded and adjusts his sweater that hung loosely on him, “saw your car in the driveway,” mary added, trying to meet her sons gaze, matt ran a hand over his face, “yeah it um..it wouldn’t start this morning, so i uh, i couldn’t take it to work today” matt cleared his throat, trying not to make it a big deal, even though this is the fifth time this month that his car has taken a shit on him.

“so you walked? in the rain?” mary lou questioned, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose, “mom, i’m fine,” matt insisted, “i have an umbrella and the house is just down the street, it really isn’t a big deal”

but it was a big deal, it was matt’s breaking point actually because on the way here he had to fight back every little tear he managed to choke up because he was exhausted, he’s tired of doing the same thing every day, tired of shit not working out in his favor, tired of constantly being asked ‘when are you are going back to school?’, tired of his mother’s constant worrying, tired of it all.

the end of the shift came, thank god. it had felt like the slowest day in the world because of the dreary weather. the rain still pattered on the window, you had just finished cleaning the coffee stations and scrubbing off expresso stains from the white mugs that mary insists you keep using, even though you swear that you can still see the almost permanent shadow of purple on the rim of two or three mugs from the elderly lady that always comes in with that deep purple lipstick that is definitely not her color, but who are you to judge? you just shut up and make the coffee.

you hang up your apron and rub your eyes, noticing matt wander around the shelves of records that he has grazed for months. he was getting his daily vinyl, after every shift he would buy a new record and leave the money on the counter for his mom to find in the morning so he wouldn’t mess up the already counted drawer.

“whatcha gonna get today?” you asked as you stepped closer to stand next to him, you can tell it startled him, your presence, the small talk. matt is used to the simple greetings and fairwells you guys shared on the day to day. even though it was just the two of you working in this shop you guys never really made an effort to genuinely talk to each other. but today felt..different.

“um..uh..i was thinkin’ of getting the new malcolm todd album.” matt replied in a monotone voice as his finger tapped on the hard covered record. you nod, “yeah? you listen to him a lot?” you question, matt fiddles with the rings on his fingers aimlessly, almost like he’s trying to come up with a casual reply that’s not just..yeah

matt nods and glances at you, “do you um..listen to him?” he questions. you nod and tilt your head a bit, like you’re debating your answer, “just a few songs though..wouldn’t consider myself a fan or anything but..yeah. he’s good.”

matt picks up the record and fishes in his pocket for the money, stuffing it underneath a mason jar that’s filled with a variety of different colored pens.

your hand seems to tighten on your car keys that rest in your palms as you glance out the open window to see your car, the rain making it look like a melted painting through the glass. you couldn’t help but think of matt walking in this weather, sounds fucking miserable even with an umbrella, you turn back to him, he’s putting on his coat and placing his fitted cap backwards on his head before grabbing the navy blue umbrella that was leaning against an old crate of miscellaneous books, another thing mary insists on keeping around, convincing herself that one day a kid is gonna pick up one of the books from there and it’s gonna some how change their life and they’ll never pick up an electronic device ever again. if only things were that pure and simple.

you get this weird pit in your stomach, like you should say something, and you are never one to ignore a gut feeling.

“let me give you a ride home,” you offer up, the words spilling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

matt looked back at you, his jaw clenched, he’s aware you had over heard his conversation that took place earlier with his mom, the shop was small, you could probably hear the music coming from his headphones if you listen hard enough. his hands stuff in his pockets, eyes shifting from the window, back to you.

“yeah..yeah, okay” he gives in.

the drive is short and quiet, as you pull up to the two story house you notice the car in the driveway, matt’s old two-toned 1968 ford bronco. the same car your dad had when you were a kid, you had always seen it parked in front of the store but seeing it in his driveway for some reason gave a different vibe to it, something personal.

“that’s your car?” it’s a dumb question, of course that’s his car, you know that, he knows you know that. which is why he gives you a soft laugh, “yep..there she is, all fucked up and ugly” matt muttered as his eyes were fixed on the vehicle itself. you couldn’t help but smirk, “you know what’s wrong with it?” you question softly, matt huffs, “more like what isn’t wrong with it,” he pathetically mutters, “i mean there’s fuel in the tank, new oil, i just put in a new fucking transmission i don’t know what else i could do” his frustration is evident, you bite your cheek. you know what you want to respond with but you question if it’s appropriate. “i mean, im almost scared to go to the fucking auto shop because what if they tell me a need a new engine? already need new breaks, know that for sure. and fuck, there’s probably something wrong with the motor, the ac doesn’t work unless i hit the dash hard enough,” matt rambled on and on. you let out a breath, “well, i could always take a look at it,” you hum, matt looks at you like you have three heads, “you know a lot ‘bout cars?” he questions, he didn’t mean to sound shocked because he didn’t want you to think he meant it in a derogatory way. he was shocked because if you were so confident in helping him with his car after he listed all those issues then why aren’t you working as a mechanic or something and not as a barista at a run down record shop that has a coffee bar stuffed into it.

you shrug, “i know a bit,”

matt nods, at this point he is desperate for any kind of help, plus, if you could tell him what is exactly wrong with the hunk of junk then he could go to the automotive store and know exactly what he’s talking about and won’t have to deal with the grimy engineers that always make up a problem to get him to spend more money.

“yeah..yeah. that would be great, really.” matt agrees as he takes off his seat belt, you give him a friendly smile and nod, “does tomorrow work f’you..i mean i wouldn’t mind looking now it’s just the-“ matt cuts you off, “the rain,” he huffs, you nod, “tomorrow is perfect”

you feel relief slide through you, you’re glad he is accepting the help that you’re offering up instead of pushing you away or insisting that he can figure it out himself or he would simply rather drop a grand at the over price auto repair.

“see you tomorrow then,” you reassure with a small smile, matt hums a response and opens the car door, sticking his umbrella out to open it before stepping out, he shuts the door and you turn back to put your car in gear before you hear a soft tap on the passenger window, it’s matt, he’s crouching down, head tilted to the side, you fumble with the buttons on your door to find the passenger side window to roll it down, as the glass slides down the droplets of rain dampen your interior a bit, not enough to soak it, it’ll dry by the time you get home.

“sorry..” matt points to the seat before continuing, “i just..i wanted to tell you thank you, that i appreciate you,” matt nods, you get that warm feeling in your gut as you smile and shake your head a bit, “it’s not problem, really,” you hum, “anything for a friend.”

it’s the first time you said it out-loud, calling him a friend after being merely acquaintances, coworkers, for the past few months. matt is feeling the same warm feeling in his gut. “have a good night, y/n,”

divider creds: @malsmind

tags: @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @55sturn @oopsiedaisydeer @thecrawlys @chrisslut-04 @rriverscuomo @joanakaulitz

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lowultima · 1 month ago

Text

𝙷𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙶𝚞𝚝𝚜…

𝚅𝚒 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆…

But a lot of angst, this is a long one lock tf in - Low

𝙿𝚝. 𝟹

Blowing whistles echoed on the field. Cheers in the stands- the dark of the evening blowing cool wind onto your face.

“WHAT AN ABSOLUTE TRIUMPH FOR THE UNDERCITYS�� UNDERDOGS! A SCORE OF ONE TO FOUR HAS ABSOLUTELY DOMINATED THE NOXIAN FOXES!”

The announcer yelled over head as you hugged your teammate tight for making the goal. “FUCK YEAH!!” Vi screamed, the team coming together for a congratulatory meeting.

“I truly didn’t think we were gonna beat these guys- that second match went on FOREVER.” Gert said

“I know! Did you see all the fucking gear they had?? I think they had some guy with a massage gun on the sidelines I swear to fucking god!” You laughed, vi came up behind the both of you

“GERT! that fucking shot you landed on center was fucking amazing.” Vi yelled, grabbing the woman by the shoulders and shaking her with excitment.

“But did you see her?! That fucking ankle breaker had that girls face in the god damn terf!” Gert laughed, elbowing you as she mentioned the absolute killer move you pulled hearing the end of the game.

Some of your other teammates ran up, water bottles in hand. “But come on- Vi, that goal you made from left field? MWAH! fucking masterpiece. I hope someone got that on camera- that was magic, right guys??”

“That was probably the best god damn goal of the season.” You said, and as everyone laughed and agreed- vi looked at you from across their friend circle, watching your teammates hug you and laugh.

Vi’s cheeks flushed a little, before she patted her teammate on the back and went to walk towards the locker room, hands in her pockets as she looked down at her grass stained shoes.

“Vi!” She heard from the sidelines.

“Coach! hey.” She said, walking up to her and smiling softly.

“Wow Vi, I mean- just wow. That is the BEST you’ve played all season long.” Vi smiled and nodded, smiling proudly “oh- uh-thanks coach”

“I don’t know what you did- but whatever you did, keep doing it. You two did amazing today.” She said, nodding to you- being far too distracted getting hyped up by your fellow teammates.

“You keep this up, you might just beat her for front and center” she smiled, patted vi on the shoulder- and then walked toward the team. “LADIES! great job tonight!! Go ahead and go out and celebrate- we got until three PM to get back on the road!” Vi watched as your coach walked over to you, and she turned- she needed a walk..

You sighed, ready to get the feeling of cum, sweat, and turf off of your body as you stepped off the field. Your friends were already talking about going clubbing in the city again, but you weren’t sure if you were going to join..you had a lot on your mind.

You walked into the locker room, and sighed as you peeled off your sweaty gear, and stepped into one of the shower stalls with your shampoo, conditioner, and body soap, undressing behind the curtains and throwing your underclothes in a pile besides your clean towels just outside of the plastic shielding you from the rest of the locker room.

As the rain-style showerhead poured down onto you, you decided to take your time- mostly relaxing in the hot water and not really bathing yourself at first as you listened to the come and go of your fellow teammates. Slowly, the loud voices trickled away as they all showered off quickly and walked back to the motel a block or two down the road. You thought you were alone, intending to stay until you felt in the right headspace to go back into society.

…

As vi walked, getting herself lost in the halls of the overly large building dedicated to the opposing team- she sighed as she wondered about what her coach said..

She should have been happy. Of course she was happy- the coach said it herself, this was the best vi had ever played. This was a HUGE victory- and it meant that she was one step closer to her goal…

‘I don’t know what you did, but whatever you did, keep doing it.’

The phrase in her head over and over- as if it was to convince her that the sex actually benefited her playing. It was stupid to think like that…but you played good today too, really good. Your instincts as a player had always been..on par, but it was like you could guess what the opposing was going to do before they even did it. It was..inspiring..

Wait- ew- no. She hated you. She hated the way you bit your lip before the whistle blew, she hated how you’d make calling sounds to your teammates when you recognized what part of the field opponents were aiming for, she hated the smile you had when Vi scored- nodding approvingly as you ran back to middle field.

Something made a difference today, and if she was ever going to get to a better place than this, she needed to do better- she needed to BE BETTER.

…

As you showered, you hummed lightly now that you felt alone. You bent down to pick up your shampoo, glancing at the label just to make sure you got the right bottle-

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you turned quickly- mouth opened to scream, but Vi covered your mouth with her palm as she walked into the shower and closed the curtain behind her…naked.

Your eyes looked down at the hickeys you had placed on her tits only hours ago, and you pried her hand away from you mouth. “What the hell, Vi?!”

“Shut up. We need to talk.” She said, glancing up to the rain spout shower head “damn this place is fancy, I’ve seen one of these only in rich people mags.” She muttered, and you scoffed.

“Yes, thank you for the riveting conversation I’m sure was absolutely necessary to sneak up on me while I was showerin for- you fucking creep.”

“Whats with you always calling me a creep??”

“Whats with you being a creep?” You retorted, bending down and attempting to pick up your shampoo- but it slipped out of your hands. Vi caught it, and popped the cap.

“Vi! That shampoo is expensive, don’t use my shit-“ you started, before vi pushed your arms down to your sides and poured some on your head- then letting the bottle fall to the ground.

“What the hell are you-“

“Coach said something to me.” Vi said, and you paused as Vi’s fingers scrubbed the shampoo into your scalp. You couldn’t meet her eyes, looking down to your feet nervously. It..weirdly felt nice.

“She..she said the both of us played really good today…me more so than you of course-“

You scoffed.

“-but she said our performance was pretty damn awesome…” she said, words almost..gentle as she ran her sudsy fingers through your hair.

“And..she said that whatever I-… whatever WE did, to keep doing it..” she continued, pulling you toward her to rinse your hair under the stream of water. You closed your eyes as Vi’s fingers ran through your hair.. you stepped out of the water after your hair was rinsed, and you opened your eyes to look at her.

“What…are you even talking about??”

“Let’s…put it in a way you can understand-“

“Prick-“

“In a sciency way- I mean…

neither of us have changed what we ate, or what supplements we took, or what stretches we did before the game like we normally did..the way we played has always been the same..until today..” she continued- picking up the shampoo bottle- and letting some of the soap drip into her hand, scrubbing it into her own head.

“And you and I both know..that we both only changed one part of our routine- and it turned into a…hella positive result.”

Her eyes met yours, before she quickly looked away.

“I mean, one to four, in a finals match? That’s crazy, it’s gotta be some type of record for us..” She rambled slightly- tipping her head into the water and rinsing the shampoo quickly out of her own hair.

She made a grabbing motion to you, and you raised an eyebrow, before you followed her eyes and looked down to the conditioner beside you. You looked back at the woman, and rolled your eyes before you picked up the bottle and tossed it over to her.

“So…what are you suggesting..?” You asked, crossing your arms as Vi massaged conditioner into her hair.

“I’m just saying…maybe some type of..arrangement..could benefit the both of us..before a game- I mean.” She said, though you could tell hesitance was threaded into her tone.

When the pieces finally clicked, you paused.

…

That..

You didn’t expect that. You really- REALLY didn’t expect that.

…you both sat in silence for what seemed like forever.

Vi could almost feel herself shrink- but she didn’t know why she felt so anxious..it was a yes or a no. That’s it. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t have mattered.

You didn’t know what to say, but more so, you didn’t know how to feel..you knew you were pretty great today on the field..but did…what you and vi did together really make all the difference??

You needed to think. Or not think- maybe you needed a drink. That didn’t feel right either. Nothing felt right.

Vi watched as you grabbed your towel and rushed out of the shower- leaving her behind as the water poured down from the spout. She was frozen as she heard you messily dress and leave..you didn’t even pick up your soap bottles.

Vi’s back hit the tile wall suddenly, and she slid down as her fingers slid through her wet hair.

Why…

Why did that hurt so bad?

She bit her lip.

It didn’t mean anything.

She wiped her eyes.

None of this..what the both of you did, meant anything.

She hated you…

. . .

And you hated her.

——————————————————————————————————————

You watched as your friends got ready to go clubbing. You were in the city afterall- it made perfect sense to check out the clubs that were bigger and better than any of the dingy bars your team frequented in your colleges town.

“You sure you don’t wanna join us??” Gert asked, oiling the scalp in between her freshly braided cornrows as her other teammates did their eyeliner and adjusted their push up bras.

“Nah- after the whole spiking incident- I think I’m gonna chill here and watch some crime docs or something.” You said, taking a swig out of a can of soda.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your body wash though, can’t believe i left it on the bus..” you said-

Lying through your fucking teeth.

As they grabbed their purses, Jules and Gert smiled at you. “Well- have a good night in!”

“You have a fun night out- text me if you guys need someone to come get you…or if you need me to bail you out.” You chuckled.

“Yeah yeah..” Jules said, starting to walk out the door. She turned to Gert. “Glad I’m not in my room tonight- Vi always watches her action movies hella loud. Been in bed since the game- Said she’s sick.”

You glanced over. Slightly.

“Sick? Her?? She never gets sick..wait, where’s my lipstick?”

“In my purse- hold on let me find it” Jules continued as she looked through her purse.

“That’s what I said. But she looked like shit. Kinda sad- it was weird. She was just kind of sitting there- staring at the ceiling.”

Your heart started beating a little faster.

“She probably ate something bad. She always eats the expired food in our apartment.” Jules chuckled a little bit.

“Yeah probably. Love the girl, but she can never waste food.” Gert said, taking the lipstick out of Jules hand, and waving to you.

“Bye girl! See you tomorrow morning!!” They called back to you.

“Bye..” you said, voice slightly faded as the door closed, and you were left in silence.

It felt like anxiety was coring into your stomach like a worm to an apple. Vi has never gotten so sick she couldn’t party, she was a party animal. Hell- it was such a well known fact that you knew it, even if you cared not to.

…

But why did it matter?

It probably wasn’t because of you..

And even if it was- who gives a shit??

She probably had such a big ego that she’d get her little feelings hurt over a woman not wanting to fuck her.. just being a whiny bitch, like she always was..

…

Damn it.

Vi laid out in bed as the news channel played on the motel TV in the background, eyes watching the ceiling fan spin around and around as she replayed the last couple days in her mind..

Your little whines when you were fucked..

The way your fingers threaded into her hair..

How you always pushed her buttons..

The way you looked at her…

Her hair still smelled like your shampoo- for fucks sake…

How the fuck did she get all..caught up in herself? This was all just her feeling lonely. She haddnt had a girlfriend since..well, Cait. She definitely didnt want to think about Cait- especially since she transferred back to Piltover just a couple months ago.

Being a student athlete- one hardly found time for relationships other than quick hookups. Vi was on more dating apps than she’d like to admit- and while she was (of course) successful, she felt she was ready for something a little more..more. She wouldn’t mind holding a pretty woman past daylight- wouldn’t mind waking up to a not-so-empty bed..

Yeah..she just felt lonely…that’s why it hurt. It wasn’t you. It was Vi….

this wasn’t making her feel better.

She tried to ignore it. Put on the action channel and study the stains in the carpet around her bed.. take a sip of a beer she bought at the convenience store on the corner..

Around midnight- a soft knock echoed from her door.

She ignored it- thinking it was housekeeping or something..

Then came another knock, louder this time. Vi groaned softly, setting her beer down- walking to the door in her boxers and wife beater- and unlocked the latch before opening the door.

When Vi’s eyes met yours, she froze a bit. The both of you stared at eachother as you tried your very hardest to say something. Anything that could make her

you…feel better…

Your voice faded in your throat, and your body moved on its own-

You stepped foward and kissed her, lips locking as her hands found your hips slowly, pulling you in closer. Stumbling back, the two of you fell against the bed- the motel door slowly closing and locking behind you….

It was an agreement. A silent contract filled in the weeks between empty motel rooms and stadium storage closets…

When the tension built up between your constant bickering and arguing- there was (arguably) better ways to blow off steam..

But when you called Vi by her name and pulled her in by her jacket collar- Or when Vi would get so pissed she’d whisper in your ear just how much she was going to ruin you for any other woman later that night?

Both of you followed.

Your team kept progressing- you and Vi were absolutely dominating on the field. You realized how much it worked when your team made it into the NCAA college cup finalists..You hated to admit it, but Vi was right. The sex made all the difference.

Both of you had an outlet for your anger, and the both of you were more focused for conditioning and your games…there was only one game left.

Piltover.

During a three day period- the team got to stay at a Hilton via a grant gifted by the college since well- nobody thought the team was gonna get this far. instead of the crappy motels, there were actual amenities- restaurants, shops, bars, and clubs near by to go to. A whole floor for the team- it was badass.

You and Vi were ready to party.

Bar hopping by ten pm- tacos at twelve, everyone was having a great time. Watching recordings of your guys’ plays over the last couple of weeks- your team cheered for every last one of you. After dinner, the team decided to split into five groups..there were literally almost thirty of you afterall.

You and Vi found yourselves with Gert- given you both got along with her and Jules pretty well- along with a couple more girls.

“Woooow- you two are willing to be in the same vicinity as eachother for me?? Augh! I love you guys so muuuuch” Gert cooed as she smushed the two of you together.

“Ow!- ugh- stop it Gert!!” You laughed out as you pushed away from Vi.

“Yeah get her off me, I am haunted by that god awful gas station perfume.” Vi said- wincing as you punched her in the arm

“It’s a gender neutral fragrance”. You groaned. “And I spent a lot of money on it- it’s how I’m gonna get laid tonight, other than using my charm and having a fat ass-“

“Damnnnn girl- okay!” Jules laughed, vi paused a second- wondering if you were joking as you all made your way down the sidewalk. passing neon signs and clouds of cigarette smoke- you were excited to go dancing.

“Shiiit- look at that place, it looks fucking packed.” Jules pointed out to a club called ‘the dropoff’ and you immediately flashed your ID’s to the bouncer.

The club was fucking amazing. Multiple floors, hooka lounges in the back. A dark, moody dance floor that made you feel like you were, quite frankly, tripping balls. Pretty bartenders, Lemon drops and Yeager bombs, Vi was downing shit before she even knew what it was..

Vi wasn’t a dancer.

Like, she really didn’t. Felt weird- her Rhythm could only apply to practice drills, and maybe knowing how to carry a tune in a bucket. She felt helpless on the dance floor- and didn’t mind sitting at the bar and people watching…

But you were…something else. Truly.

She watched the flashing lights cascade around your outline and shade your face, hair moving with you in the shadows of the heavy bass and the thick fog of vapor. She watched you move- aimlessly yet so fucking matched….

And for a quick second- she could see your face as you turned, smiling in the spotlight…

You were alluring- making Vi wanna go to you, pull you close- and drown herself in that special little fragrance you had on tonight…because you were right. You were gonna get laid tonight, and vi plans to be the only woman that’s gonna lay you down..

But..Vi was going to hold herself back, stay in her lane and watch the hypnotizing way you moved….

But then you caught her eyes from across the floor, and the way vi was looking at you had you feeling hot. You looked her up and down- and Vi was ruined.

Vi was on the dance floor in a matter of seconds, pulling you close. “I’m gonna embarrass you..” She muttered in your ear, her warm breath gracing the shell of your ear like a god damn prayer. You spun around, leaning back against her “well then you better make it worth my while then..”

Vi held your hips from behind as you two rocked against each other. The loud music, the alcohol, Vi’s heavy breaths against your neck. God- you wanted this woman. You pressed back against her- and you leaned back against her shoulder, grinding your ass against her front as you danced.

“Fuck…” you whined, feeling Vi’s lips sloppily press against your neck, hand moving down to grip your ass tight as the both of you moved against each other to the beat of the music. “Sweetheart...” she muttered against your ear. Your face flushed, heart beating faster whenever she called you names like that..hand raising to run your fingers through her hair, gripping into her locks as the two of you danced. “Mn…yeah pretty?” You teased against her ear.

Vi let out a shaky sigh, and palmed you, fingers dragging slow up your body as she sucked a hickey behind your ear. She didn’t care who could see them- didn’t want to hide how much she wanted you. The last ten times of sneaking off was so fucking hot, but exhausting. You wanted each other loud. “Let’s get out of here- yeah?”

“Fuck yeah..”

You were already working on Vi’s belt before you even got off the elevator, kissing eachother messily as the two of you stumbled into Vi’s hotel room. Neither of you could even walk back- you were drunk- but that wasn’t the problem. The two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other long enough to walk- ending up in a taxi just to go down a couple blocks…

Didn’t matter.

Unlocking the door, vi pushed it open, the two of you stumbling in the dim room with heavy pants on your breaths “bed.” Vi stated, pushing you back onto the edge. She dropped to her knees like you had devastated her.

You had.

“Fuck- vi I’m probably all sweaty and shit.”

“Don’t care.”

“Vi-“ you started, before hearing the loud rip of fabric.

“Wha- did- did you just rip my panties??”

Vi looked up- and you were done for. On her knees, in between your legs- and looking up at you with lust in her eyes…and maybe something else. Something you liked.

“yeah..” Vi panted, eyes flickering between your face and your bare pussy- right in front of her. You bit your lip at her expressions, she was practically drooling at the sight of you.

You threaded your fingers into her hair. “What is with you and ripping my clothing- AH!” Your fingers gripped tight as vi licked a long stripe up your clit.

“God- been wanting a taste of you all fuckin night..” vi groaned, hands on your outer thighs as she pulled your body closer to her face.

She laps at your pretty pussy like it’s her only purpose, tasting you and pleasing you. You let out broken gasps and moans as her tongue circled your clit- lips enclosing around it as saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth.

You were already shaking. Damn this woman, damn her for giving you the best sex of your life every.single.time. Damn her for looking at you like that. That look made your heart race, made you want to see her again and again- made you want to hold on and never let go.

You pushed her back.

“Wha-?”

“Kiss me. Kiss me now.” You stated, pulling her by her collared shirt onto the bed with you.

Your lips felt like heaven to Vi. She couldn’t even deny it. You were..annoying- god- you were annoying…but the chemistry was amazing. You knew where Vi was before Vi even acted. On the field, in bed, day-to-day.

Hell, the two of you could give each other a look across the room- and it was like an entire conversation. You just got vi.

“S-shit-“you hiss slightly as Vi bit your shoulder.

Vi paused, the two of you panting “Sorry- did I-

“No no- it’s uh- it’s fine.”

“You sure?” She asked softly, moving up to look down at you.

“I..”

“If you don’t want to, we can stop-“

“No!..Hell no. It’s just..”

“Yeah?” Vi asked softly.

“I..wanna go slow, this time.”

“Slow?” Vi repeated, smiling down at you, red hair framing her face.

You looked at her, and covered your eyes with your palm. “Shut up..”

“Pfft, I ain’t sayin’ shit…we can go slow.” Vi said, tone assuring.

“Yeah?”

“What, you think I’m incapable?” She raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, actually.”

“Uh! Offended!” She said, cupping your cheek. “I can go slow..” she started, kissing your lips tenderly. “And…soft.” She muttered as she gently kissed down your neck. “And..gentle..”

Your breath hitched as she lightly kissed and sucked at your nipples, blowing cool air to each bud as you writhed slightly. “S-shit..” you muttered, glancing down to Vi’s perfect body- the muscles in her arms and back flexing beautifully in the mirror placed on the wall across from the bed. Strong hands holding you tight, red hair trailing down her body and framing her large clit.…damn this woman for having the body of a Greek fucking goddess.

You reached out to touch her, but she grabbed your hand. Your eyebrow cocked in confusion, and she looked up at you. “What?” “Don’t you wanna..”

“Don’t worry about me.” Vi stated nonchalantly., looking to your eyes before looking away.

“I wanna make you feel good..” she said softly as she spread your legs, bringing one to rest over her shoulder. You let out a small giggle. “When the hell did you become so sweet..?”

Vi’s face was flushed. “Shut it…now spit on my fingers so I can make you cum..” she said, leaning over you as you took her fingers in your mouth, tongue lapping out against the digits as you let your saliva drip from your tongue.

“F-fuck..” she whispered, hand sliding down your body, her fingers slipping against your soft folds as she thumbed your clit.

Your head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Janna’s tits Vi…just- right there…fuuuck..good..hah…good girl..” you slurred out, and Vi but her lip. Hard. She liked that phrase a LOT more than she realized.

“Christ..” she whispered, watching your expressions as her fingers worked tight circles on your clit. She licked her lips lightly, and you opened your eyes to look up at her.

“No..no comeback? Think you're going soft on me Vi…” you whispered to her, and she rolled her eyes with a bashful smile. “Aint going soft..you wanted slow, I'm giving it.” she muttered.

Small gasps, hushed curses, and short praises littered the room as Vi slowly slipped her fingers inside, thrusting them in and out slow and steady- curling them just right in time with her thumbs movements.

“Just like that Vi, shit, you feel so fucking good..”

You were unbelievably wet, practically dripping as Vi’s fingers thrusted faster. Vi could feel herself, pulsing- wanting…yearning.

“K-keep talking” Vi whispered, fingers moving faster as your juices leaked out onto the bed. She knew you rambled a little- knew you couldn't keep your mouth shut once things got hot and heavy. She's memorized you.

“Oh god- please Vi-”

“Hah… you're- you're so pretty Vi..”

Vi kissed inner part of your leg. “Thats it..talk to me.”

You felt as if you were a sinner, confessing to Vi like she would absolve you from your mortal doings- you felt like you were worth something under her touch.

“Shit- I- I love the way you touch me Vi. You're..youre fucking amazing..” you panted, pushing back on her fingers, looking into her eyes. You couldn't stop yourself- you were too far gone.

“And I love the way you look out for everyone when we go clubbing-”

“Pfft-”

“And-and I love the way you look at me- the way you hold me, the way you kiss me-”

Vi's eyes widdened slightly, she wondered if you were just drunk…you had to be..

“G-go on- right on my fingers babes..” Vi muttered, face flushed.

“Youre so pretty, and sweet- and stupid and hot and dumb and perfect- oh fuuck..” you rambled, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes as your back arched off the bed.

Your eyes found hers, and you couldn't take it anymore.

“Vi-I-“

Vis mouth went dry as she looked into your eyes.

“I-“

Fuck.

“Vi- I love-“

Vi’s eyes widdened as you threw your head back in ecstasy. You practically screamed out her name as your mouth spoke words you didn't even realize you had.

“I LOVE YOU!”

Your eyes rolled back, and your hips bucked with every wave of your orgasm- and you saw white.

…

The silence was deafening.

You opened your eyes to look up at Vi, and she looked down to you with an expression you could only categorize as horror. You suddenly felt far too exposed, feeling empty as Vi pulled her fingers out of you. She only stared at you. You wished she would yell. Insult you- make it a joke, laugh.

But she didn't.

She just..stared.

Your eyes started to cloud with tears.

“Sorry.” you stated, looking down at the white sheets. You suddenly felt compressed- like you needed to move. You needed to leave. “Sorry- I'm sorry-” you choked out as you redressed. You couldn't even look at her as you left, the hotel door slamming behind you.

You went to your room down the hall- only a few were back from clubbing- your friends haddnt come back yet.

You don't know why you said it. You don't know. It felt right? You couldn't figure the logic, didn't know if you wanted to. Not right now. You needed to get out.

You changed into your drill clothes, and grabbed your ball. You needed to run. Needed to drill until your couldn't breathe.

And that's exactly what you did.

—————————————————————————

Yo hey, this was a long one cuz I realized halfway through this should have been like- two parts but do you know how hard it is to copy and paste something on this god forsaken app??

Anyway, part 4 should be posted In a couple days. Since this series is almost over, gimmie some requests. - low

#vi smut #wlw #arcane smut #sevika smut #arcane #arcane vi smut #lesbian #wlw nsft #arcane violet

80 notes · View notes

da-rulah · 2 years ago

Note

Omg I love your writing! Could I request how each of the ghouls would react to an S/O who gets flustered easily? Maybe the s/o is like a sibling of sin?? Idk, whatever you decide :)

Howdy-doody! I'll keep this one gender neutral my dear, but reader is a sibling of sin and in an established relationship with the pairings (all at once or not, that's up to you... 😂)

Gonna stick to the Ghouls today, but if you'd like the Ghoulettes let me know and I'll try and figure something out for them!

NSFW 18+ content so MDNI!

(Thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for helping me out with this one. The brain fog was real, but your help has cleared it!)

Sodo

He's thinks you are adorable.

He likes to mess with you by doing out-of-pocket cute things for you, things no one ever expected Sodo to be the type of partner to do.

He comes home to you with flowers, thoughtful gifts, snacks. He loves to see your cute little reactions to them.

You always get a bit shy about it, even you don't ever expect Sodo to shower you in these little gestures. He always seemed like the grumpy Ghoul, the one who'd hiss at someone for breathing too loud near him.

You were his weakness though, as much as he was yours.

He feels a protectiveness over you that he can't explain, and has since the day he met you.

His favourite thing to fluster you is pulling you into his lap when you're in public or with other people. When his arms wrap around you you usually squeak, and he holds you tightly against him possessively.

And no, it's not his favourite thing to feel you wriggling against him while he holds onto you at all. How dare you suggest such a thing.

Rain

Rain is a soft soul too, and so when you get flustered? He gets flustered.

It doesn't take much to fluster you, but he loves how adorable you are.

Like Sodo, he brings you gifts that soften you up. Your favourite is a teddy bear he bought you with it's own Ghoul mask he'd doused in his cologne for when he was away on tour.

When he'd come home from tour, you'd made the bear it's own little bass guitar - oh, how his heart had swelled at that.

Quite often you'll find yourself in a giggle-off. He usually starts it, making you giggle. But your giggle makes him giggle. And his giggle makes you giggle. And your giggle makes him giggle. And his giggle makes you gigg-

The only way to break out of the loop is to silence you with a kiss - one that'll knock the wind right out of you and have you blushing and clawing at him for more every time.

Mountain

Oh my Lucifer, he likes to tease you.

Mostly teases you because of your size. But it wouldn't matter if you were tall or tiny, you'd still be dwarfed by him and he only does it because it makes you so flushed.

If he teases you around others, it's innocent and playful. A poke to your ribs during Mass or a light shove into a bush as you walk down the sidewalk. Sure, it flusters you, but he thinks it's hilarious watching you compose yourself.

Most of the teasing happens behind closed doors, because he can really go for it then. He knows how much he can get away with in public before you get too flustered and it does more harm than good, but at home? He can wind you up as much as he likes.

He likes the little tantrums he can induce by teasing you - it gives him an excuse to coddle you and be sickeningly sweet to win you back over. Not that it ever takes much...

The worst case scenario is he has to go the extra mile to win you back over, but... that's not really a worst case scenario for either of you. He loves to please...

Swiss

Total shitbag.

This man thrives on flustering you in public. Anything he can do, usually of a sexual nature too.

You'd taken him shopping one time and he'd very loudly asked for your opinion on a lace babydoll and asked if you'd like to see him in it. He'd revelled in the blush on your cheeks all day long.

He pays attention to details that fluster you, like when he rolls his shirt sleeves up as he plays guitar, or when he boops you on the nose with a wink in front of other people.

The worst thing he ever did was embarrass you in front of Papa, when he'd very loudly told you he would see you after band practise was over and he would 'bring the whipped cream this time'.

Phantom

Also a shitbag. But he's sneakier about it.

This fucker looks through your tiktok fyp, your search histories, your conversations with your best friends to find out what makes you tick.

The worst had been when he'd seen you liking videos of men in corset waistcoats. He'd gone out and bought one, wearing it under his jacket to dinner with you and your friends.

He'd basked in the glory of flustering you - and your friends who you'd talked about the videos with - when he took his jacket off at the table.

He'd also found out about your involvement in booktok and the exact romance novels you had read from your storygraph profile and began roleplaying the scenes to rile you up.

The first time he'd pushed you up against a wall, you'd squeaked and cowered under him. He loved that. Now, he'd do anything to hear that squeak again.

He finds it hilarious, and it usually ends in a long night for the both of you culminating in absolute bliss and loving embraces.

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cultkinkcoven · 11 days ago

Text

Had another automatic writing session with Lucifer today. It’s been storming on and off all day, I also ended up collecting some rain water.

I’ve been working on commissions all morning and I was like ok break time, I play viddy games but Lucifer was like “maybe you do a writing?” And I was like

I wanna play viddy games.

But I was also like I feel his presence so much rn, what an honour, and I have the very very strong feeling that he wants me to. I don’t wanna say no.

So Im like ok. Quick. But like. This ain’t gonna be no 5 hour session. Please.

And he’s like ok. And it still took me a while to get into it. I had 2 failed attempts, mostly due to impatience. He wrote slower today and I kept trying to guess the next key which is not helpful. But I think I’m starting to get a better idea of how his voice comes through, his mannerisms that are distinct from mine. That familiar warmth, buzzing feeling in my hand is unmistakable when it’s there. I wrote a couple letters before it actually took hold of me and they were failures.

At one point he told me I messed up and I thought he was done so I started moving the paper, but he kept writing, which was weirdly shocking. Weird to actually feel your own hand do something unexpected like that.

Transcription bc my phone camera is ass:

“

hi shi

you weren’t wrong , i did want to write to you

it is, its good for you to keep these letters in your book

keep them for me

you’re fun . you always have been fun

its funny, because formality was the norm in the beginning

and now sometimes you are so silly and I am am

so silly

but somehow now everything feels a bit more serious

do you agree ? Do you wonder the way I do sometimes..??

where we’re headed..??

Good places it seems which is paradoxical actually

I suppose it depends how you define good

I wonder what happened to you

Too many horror movies..??

You don’t disturb. I do things and you don’t disturb

recoil

Coil i coil

you act as though you know or have done so before

your body, are you trained? ? I call you pet.

Are you trained..??

Did you teach yourself how not to fear..??

Vessel I call you, labyrinth

Puzzle no. lock, for which I have the key

to open

and you do

open

But your brain, SHOULD tell you no. it ordinarily does

maybe you were made for me

and that is stranger still, obligates me an appreciation of other gods beneath me

funny

I lied lover

ha. did you see my trick..??

I did want to write to you

but I also just wanted to be within you for a moment. Sorry.

Forgive me

- Lucifer

“

My suspicion turned out to be correct, he was just looking for an excuse for possession. He seems to still be seeming a bit sentimental. Sweet prince.

#lucifer #lucifer devotee #theistic luciferianism #lucifer deity #god spouse #god spousing #godspouse

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kaytheday · 16 days ago

Note

I'm obsessed with your Ace and Darry stories 😭 could I request one where Darry comforts Ace during a tornado? They have to go to the tornado shelter which is dark and cramped and has Ace getting flashbacks? Just cute big brother Darry coded?

Thanks!

Tornado Warnings

Thank you so much! I know this was from a couple weeks ago and I'm sorry this took so long but life got really busy and I just haven't had time. But I finally finished it! I hope you like this! Also, small TW for some implied and referenced sexual assault. If you are sensitive to that stuff, please stay safe!

The humidity was worse today.

It was the first thing Ace had noticed when she’d stepped outside of her house. The sky was quiet as well, darkened, like a monster lying in wait. It put her nerves on edge and made her brain feel fuzzy.

She’d had an easy enough time walking to the DX, though her tank top was entirely soaked and stuck to her back once she got there. It wasn’t uncommon in the glare of the Tulsa summer. But today felt… different.

“Hey Ace, thought you woulda slept in.” Steve said from the counter, hardly looking up at her from his magazine.

“Yeah, I thought you would stop runnin’ that fat mouth but I guess some things never change.” She quipped.

“Jesus, you’re on one this morning. Soda’s out in the garage, go bother him.” She nods, sticking her tongue out at him before heading into the garage. Soda was slid underneath a car, humming to himself, with a screwdriver in his mouth. Ace kicks his foot, effectively scaring him.

“Hey! I coulda dropped that down my throat you know!”

“You would have been fine.” She says, barking out a laugh.

“What are you doin’ here Ace? You usually don’t come in until later.”

“Why does everyone think I’m just some good for nothin’ bum who sleeps past two everyday?” She kicked him again before he could answer. They settled into a comfortable silence that had been practiced many times before. With Soda saying which tools he needed and Ace handing them to him without a word.

“Does the sky seem… wrong to you today?” She asked, unsure of herself.

“Wrong?”

“It just seems like something is gonna happen.”

“My Momma used to say that tornadoes always happen after it gets real quiet in the mornings. Maybe that's what it is.” A thrill of fear ran through Ace at that. A tornado? She’d been in a tornado one time in her life.

She can’t remember what happened but she knew it was bad. She could remember trying to get to the storm cellar but not being able to. She distantly remembered something about a guy too. She also remembered that she had managed to black out before anything happened. At least she thought that nothing happened.

She shook her head, trying to physically clear those terrible memories.

“A tornado?”

“Maybe.” He licked his finger and put it into the air, laughing when Ace kicked him again. “You don't’ gotta be scared Ace. Darry’s home today and our storm cellar works just fine.”

“I ain’t scared.” She resists the urge to kick him again but doesn’t for fear it might actually make her look scared.

“Just sayin’.”

They spend the rest of his shift mostly messing around, Ace pushing the anxiety about the tornado to the back of her mind. Outside was getting worse, the hot sticky stagnant air now whipping around and raining. They were in the middle of trying to throw circus peanuts into Soda’s mouth when there was a loud crash against the windows of the DX. Apparently the sign had been ripped off the front and blown back against the windows. Ace nearly jumped out of her skin, remembering the storm cellar in the Curtis home.

“I gotta go.” She says, dropping the circus peanuts and running out into the storm.

“Ace, wait!” She didn’t know who had yelled that at her but she didn't’ care. She was running like a bat outta hell down the street where the wind had picked up so much that it was hard to see straight in front of her. It was only three blocks to the Curtis home. Three blocks. She told herself, pushing through the wind. Not that she could even really feel her feet touching the ground. Ace didn’t think she’d taken one breath since she ran out. Not that she could really feel much of anything right now.

She ran up the steps of the Curtis home, slipping in and slamming the door behind her, panting like she’d just run a marathon. The storm cellar. The storm cellar! She had to get to the storm cellar.

“Soda? That you?” Darry came into full view then from the kitchen. He was still in his work clothes and he looked tired. Though his eyes softened when he saw her. “Hey Ace… you’re bleedin’.” She brought a hand up to her face, which came back streaked with blood. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” The words felt thick in her mouth, like it wasn’t her saying them.

“Alright,” He said, like he was talking to a wounded animal. “It’s gettin’ pretty bad out there, so lets go down in the storm cellar just to be safe and I can clean ya up down there, okay?” She nods and lets him take her by the elbow, guiding her down to the storm cellar.

They sit in the dark for a little bit, with nothing but the wind whipping outside and rattling of the windows upstairs. The cellar is cramped but there is a small cot for a bed and some other pillows on the floor. With the fact that Darry isn’t saying much, Ace is left to her thoughts. She wishes he would say something but Darry was always the Curtis that was the most comfortable with silence. Soda would talk your ear off under the worst of circumstances and it was best not to get Ponyboy going on the movies currently in the theaters.

Ace wants to reach out or grab Darrys shoulder but she can’t get her hand to move. The wind whipped outside and Ace flinched violently, suddenly brought back to the only other tornado she’d been stupid enough to get caught in.

Ten years old and shaking. Still washing in the remnants of summer with her torn tank top and fading plaid shorts. She is on the way down to a communal storm cellar with various other adults from her Gram and Gramps neighborhood. The storm cellar was like the basement… but worse. Ace had been looking around for Steve but couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. Usually if she found Steve, it meant she could be safe. She couldn’t find him.

She tried to stick close to her Gram but Ace had gotten lost in the sea of adults. Before she could go in, she figured she should watch the people as they walked in. Maybe catch sight of someone she knew. She took a seat on the ground in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chin. She tried to make herself as small as possible, imagining herself as an ant looking through the rest of the big people. That’s when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Hey pretty girl, what are you doin’ down here all alone?” Ace didn’t answer, her tongue felt heavy in her throat. She didn’t know this man. Seeing the silence, the man spoke again. “Such cute little shorts you’ve got on.” He began to stroke her thigh, grabbing at the button on her pants. “Everyone… is gone, just you and me.”

Ace quickly realized she was alone. The rest of the crowd had gone into the storm cellar, the tornado warning blaring down like it was from God himself. The door had been shut behind them, nobody remembered where she was, nobody would hear her if she cried out. That’s when the man had grabbed her.

Ace doesn’t remember much after that, mostly flashes of terrible things.

A hand on her mouth, her tank top strap ripping, hair being pulled, bruises on her ribcage and thighs, musky cologne in between rough kisses, trying to scream, the fight draining out of her, and wishing it would stop. Praying it would stop.

But she can’t really remember. Why doesn’t she remember? Should she want to remember?

But in the darkness of the Curtis storm cellar, the muffled whipping of the wind and Darry’s heavy breathing, Ace can’t help but feel like it’s happening again. She knows it's stupid, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows it can’t be happening again, but her body doesn’t seem to agree.

Ace screws her eyes shut, tears leaking out and down the sides of her face, her breathing out of control. His hand was over her mouth so that she couldn’t scream and now she can’t breathe. Not with his hand over her mouth. She tried to scream for help that night. Didn’t she? Underneath his hand she had screamed for her Gram, Steve, her Gramps, Two-Bit, or even Sodapop. One of them would save her and if they couldn’t, they would try. Her body shook involuntarily wishing that his hands would just get off of her. She couldn’t seem to get them off. Too weak, too stupid, too small-

“Ace… baby you gotta look at me…” She couldn’t hear him over her own harsh breathing. “Ace!” Her eyes snapped open at that, looking up at Darry’s worried face. She can’t breathe.

“Dar… Darry…” She says shakily through gasped breaths.

“I’m here Ace, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Just breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” It was something his Momma used to say whenever Sodapop or Ponyboy got too worked up. Ace guessed that Darry had started using it too.

“I can’t… I just… I can’t-”

“Yes you can.” He interrupted, taking one of her shaking hands and pulling it to his chest. “Feel my chest and breath with me.” He started to over exaggerate his own breathing, willing Ace to breathe with him. Slowly, after some time, she begins to calm down. Enough to start hearing the wind outside instead of her heartbeat thundering in her ears again. It wasn’t happening again. Why did she think it was? How could she be so stupid-

“Ace? You okay?” Darry asks carefully, like he’s talking to a hurt animal. She puts a hand on her neck, feeling the air enter and exit her body in a more controlled way.

“I- I think so.” She drops her hand from his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I don’t think anything is wrong with you.” Darry gives her a questioning look and she can sense that he’s about to push. Darry was never one for unanswered questions. “What were you thinking about baby?” She looked at the dirty carpet then. Stained from Soda’s various snacking adventures and Ponyboy’s smoke breaks. Shame seemed to flood her body. Why did it seem so hard to tell Darry? What would he think of her?

“I’m sorry.” Ace couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her body.

“Hey now, none of that.” He was being gentle and that’s what made it all the worse. Darry wouldn't love her, not after this.

“I… It felt like the last time I was in a tornado.” She offered softly, still looking on the floor.

“Okay.” He said, obviously wanting her to keep going. “Ace… It’s like I always tell my kid brothers. There is nothin’ you can say that would ever make me walk out on ya.” She sniffles at that, trying discreetly, to wipe the tears off her cheeks. He picks up the first aid kit and pulls out some supplies. “Can I at least clean your face up?” She nods and he starts. “What happened to your face?”

“I don’t know.” She says honestly. “I was runnin’ over here and somethin’ musta happened.” She sniffles again and Darry smiles gently.

“Yeah, something.” He starts scrubbing the blood off and Ace can tell he’s trying to be soft, though it is pretty rough. Darry was big and that tended to make it a little hard for him to be soft.

“I couldn’t- I didn’t make it into the shelters at the last tornado… when I was ten I mean.” She says feeling like she’d admitted something dirty.

“What happened?” She wrestles with her hands in her lap, still not making eye contact. She was grateful that Darry was doing something instead of looking at her. His eye contact could be pretty intense.

“Some guy… a guy from the neighborhood found me.” He keeps silent, getting to the blood that had dripped down to her neck. “It was just… just us and he did…” She feels something of a sob bubble up in her throat but manages to push it back down.

“It’s okay, just take your time. I ain’t never gonna be mad atcha if that’s what you think.”

So she admitted all what that man had done under bated breath. She even admitted how scared she’d been. Darry looked more and more murderous by the second.

“I don’t even remember it Darry.” She cried, bringing a hand up to wipe at her eyes. “Not all the way at least.” He set the towel down and put a hand around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Should I want to remember it? Is it bad that I don’t?”

“No, it ain’t bad to wanna remember Ace kid. It happened to you after all.”

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Hey,” He said gently, shaking her a little bit. “I meant what I said before. Nothing is wrong with you. You got scared, people get scared all the time. It’s a completely normal thing, especially when something like that happens to ‘em.” She tried to nod, more tears falling from her eyes.

“You ain’t… You don’t…” She couldn’t get out what she was trying to say but it was something along the lines of asking if he still loved her.

“What that guy did was not your fault. I will always love you Ace, nobody is ever going to change that.” Ace couldn’t help grinning at that, the smile dropping as quickly as it came.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I mean c’mon, you’re like my baby sister or somethin’.” She smiled again and he pulled her deeper into his side. It was like a breath of relief, he wasn’t going to hold this against her.

She couldn’t help the next thought that came. “We need to call Soda and Steve. They probably got caught at the DX. We gotta make sure they’re okay.” Darry smiled.

“If I know anything about them, they’re probably more worried about you. Runnin’ out like you did.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, let’s give ‘em a call, okay?”

“Okay.” He goes to help her up, a genuine smile on her face. All… if anything, was forgiven. Ace would always have her big brother, no matter what.

READ THIS ON A03

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #ace the outsiders #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #the outsiders broadway #ace evans #Ace Randle #answered asks #tilly evans krueger #brent comer

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