Deacons girl

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! and i love you too🪐🤍

checkered flag:

podium:

15. comfort food?

chicken alfredo

18. do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

yes i do

"Hon?" Bucky gently calls out as he unties his boots

The house is eerily quiet. The usual tired cries of the six month old girl were hushed and you are no where to be found.

"Honey?" he tries again walking into the kitchen. Dinner is halfway done. The dishes that had been in the sink are now washed and put away. And Alpine sits in front of her bowl crying for food. "Hey girl," he bends down to pet her. "Where's your momma?" She butts her head into his hand, clearly annoyed by the lack of food she's receiving. "Okay, okay. I'll go get you something to eat." he laughs. 

He stands up with a groan, walking towards the laundry room. The door is slightly ajar and the light is off. The low rumble of the washing machine and the steady hum of the dryer fills his ears as he steps closer. Pushing open the door, he hits something that won't let it open past a sliver. Alpine slips in before him. Maneuvering around the door, he makes his way into the room, flipping on the light to see what is blocking the door. 

There you are, asleep with your six month old daughter, Rebecca, sleeping on your chest. It had been a long two months of sleepless nights and a baby that would not nap during the day. To say it had put a strain on you both was an understatement. He felt bad that he went to work during the day, and he offered time and time again to take a day off to take care of the baby, but every time you gave some reason as to why you can't leaver her.

"She's still nursing."

"What if she won't settle for you."

He always tries his best to dispel your fears, but he knows that as much as you need a break, you aren't ready to be separated from your baby girl. 

Kneeling down beside you, he gently rubs a hand on your cheek, "Honey." A shuddering breath fills your lungs and your eyes flutter open. A look of confusion spreads across your face; once your eyes adjust a wide, sleepy smile replaces it. "Hi." he whispers.

"Hi," you reply. 

"How long have you been down here?" he questions, settling down next to you. 

"What time is it?"

"4:34."

"Around forty minutes I think." your hand traces Rebecca's cheek gently. "She wouldn't stop crying unless we were in here. I guess the sounds of the machine was soothing to her."

Bucky looks at the girl and chuckles. "Of course… why don't I take her and you go relax on your own. I'll finish dinner and you, my beautiful wife, can take time for yourself. 

As you open your mouth to protest, he presses a kiss to your lips. "No arguments. I'm her father and I want to take care of both of my girls." 

"Baby—"

He takes the sleeping infant from your chest. "I can handle it, honey. Please go relax, you need it."

You let out a sigh that is followed by a yawn. You hesitate for only a second longer, eyes still heavy and fingers reaching out instinctively to Rebecca's small head.

"She's okay," Bucky mummers, shifting her slightly to hold her closer to his chest. "I've got her." The way he says it, so gentle and certain, loosens the your resolve to continue caring for the infant in your state.

You slowly sit up. The ache in your shoulders reminds you how long you had been curled up on the floor. The laundry room feels too bright after drifting in the darkness for so long. Alpine circles your feet and nips at your big toe.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep." you admit, exhaustion wound into your voice.

"I know," he replies with a kiss to your forehead. "You've been running on empty."

Bucky stands up and extends his right hand toward you. "Come on, its us three against you." He brushes a thumb on your cheek and pushes a strand of hair out of your face. "Let me help you." 

That makes your throat tighten. He sways gently with the baby, rocking her out of instinct. She barely stirs in his arms. Her tiny fist curled around his shirt, and the sight of it pulls something soft and aching through your chest. 

"I should be doing more." you whisper. 

Bucky's eyes flick to yours immediately. "Hey, you're doing enough. More than enough," he whispers. "You're keeping her alive, loving her, feeding her, and living on no sleep. If that's "not enough" then I don't know what is."

"I'm her mother, that's what I'm supposed to do." you reply. You run a finger across Rebecca's dark hair. You look at her. Sure you're tired and sure you could use a break, but something inside you can't let go of caring for her. 

"And I'm her father and your husband and it's my job to take care of both of you." he kisses your forehead. "You're so strong all of the time; for me and for her. Let me take care of you for once."

Reluctantly, you sigh. the ache in your bones and throbbing in your head are both now more pronounced than before. He rubs your arm with his right hand. "Doesn't a bath sound so nice without the eyes of our daughter watching you? And you can use that fancy epsom salt that Sarah bought you. Then you can eat dinner without a baby on your hip. It sounds wonderful, right?"

A smile pokes at the corners of your lips. "You're awful."

"I'm right." 

"…I'll go. She ate an hour ago, and if she starts fussing there's a bottle in the—"

His hand goes to the small of your back and he moves you towards the door. "I can figure it out, babe. Do you trust me?"

Your eyes meet his blue ones. "I do."

A smile erupts on his face. "Go, I've got her."

You linger in the doorway.

Bucky notices.

As he always does.

"Hey," he whispers, softly. "You're not leaving her. You're just… taking a minute."

You know that he's right, but your feet still don't move. He kisses your forehead, lips lingering to seal it there.

"I've got her." 

Your eyes flick down to the baby a final time. Her small chest rising and falling in small breaths. She lays completely still in her fathers arm.

The sight of her so content makes the tightness in your chest dissipate. "If you need me, call me."

"I will."

You step out of the bathroom, feeling more refreshed than ever. Stepping out into the living room, you hear a chorus of baby giggles and Bucky laughing along with her. 

You watch as he blows raspberries on her stomach as she grasps at his hair.

You lean against the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the scene.

Rebecca is sprawled across Bucky's lap, her tiny pajamas bunched around her kicking legs and a toothless smile on her face as he attacks her stomach with another exaggerated raspberry.

The sound that leaves her is pure joy. Bright, breathless, baby giggles that you wish you could bottle and keep forever. 

"There it is," Bucky says. "There's the laugh I've been working for all afternoon. 

Rebecca squeals, grabbing a fist full of his hair with surprising strength.

"Ow—" he yelps, carefully trying to pry her fingers away. "Okay, okay. You'll grow hair eventually. I promise. There's no need to steal mine."

Your lips turn up in an effortless smile. 

He finally looks up to see you and freezes. Rebecca, now cradled against his chest.

"There's my girl." he says with a smile.

Warmth spreads to your chest.

You walk over to the couch and sit next to him, curling into his side. Rebecca notices you and lets out an excited squeal, her arms flailing in your direction.

"Oh, now you remember I exist." you tease.

"Please, she was starring at our bedroom door like she knew you were in there."

You laugh, a real laugh, for the first time in months.

Rebecca joins in with those excited little squeals and a wide smile that reaches her eyes.

Something tender settles over Bucky's face as he looks between you and the baby.

"You look better." he tells you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

The bath had helped. And so did the clean clothes. But you know that's not what he means.

For the first time in weeks, you don't feel like you're drowning alone.

Your hand reaches for his instinctively, fingers threading through his metal ones carefully.

"Thank you." you whisper, head resting on his shoulder. 

His thumb brushes over your fingers. "Anytime."

Rebecca lets out an impatient squeal. Demanding that she be the center of attention again.

Bucky grins immediately. "Our third wheel."

"She's your daughter."

He rolls his eyes, "She's also clingy. I wonder who she got that from?"

The house is still a mess. The dishes in the sink are still piled up, and laundry is resting in the machine. But neither one of you want to get up and ruin this moment. 

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── signed, lucie

now, every time it happens, there’s a clear absence of alcohol or a hangover, missing trauma from a hunt gone wrong or something to celebrate, so there’s no reason for it to keep happening. but it does, and each time it gets more real. it’s proof enough for the both of you, though; dean looks at you like you’re the sun and moon combined when you’re in the bunker’s kitchen the next morning, playing it cool with sam, and you’re just happy that he’s content with letting you exist in his life.

it’s funny. if it’d been that one time, then neither of you would be where you are right now (and right now? it’s some backwater state, one you can’t remember the name of because a case of “were-pires” is more important). you know not to get ahead of yourself, like you’ve done in the past; for a start, dean’s about a thousand years older than you– or so you lovingly claim, much to his dismay– and you’re both hunters. sure, there’s no application for this job, but monogamous isn’t exactly a concept to many in this line of work. 

so, what was a casual, one-time thing, fueled by adrenaline-laced blood and god-knows what else, has turned into something else. 

a relationship. love.

and what you like to believe is the sudden realisation that dean is actually very interesting. 

she lies in the dark, exposed, just begging for the monster under the bed to emerge, rub its tentacles up and along her inner thighs and make its way to her wet, aching cunt.  and when it does slip in, her mind goes numb. the tentacle thrusts in and out, whilst another one trails up her body, toying with her soft tits, rolling and suckling against the flushed skin–

yeah. interesting.

maybe if it was just this one time, you could ignore it– pretend you never found this. but you can’t. 

simply put, you can’t get it out of your head. you will never get this out of your head. you’ve known for a while that dean’s got acquired tastes, especially when it comes to sex– heard the snarky comments from crowley about things they’ve done together; rowena’s utterances about how she’s surprised that you’re “not some stuffed sex doll” yet; sam’s grimaces and castiel’s concerns about what you two do in private– but you didn’t expect it to be this. 

tentacle hentai.

you sit on the edge of the motel bed, eyes scouring the screen of dean’s fucked-up laptop that’s been abused by years of viruses from porn viruses and whatever else he does on here. you’re seeking out more than you should, than you need, but you can’t stop it. you want to read this. if anything, you’re getting the best version of dean you’ve ever had; the daddy’s soldier, porn-addicted dean, put together by your snooping through his personal, explicit belongings. and you can’t really pretend that it doesn’t intrigue you. 

whilst it shouldn’t surprise you– you always seem to roll your eyes at his comments laden with sexual innuendos or poorly-timed sex jokes; a part of his personality, you assumed– it sort of does. this is the same man who goes to you, first, after a hunt– no matter how good or bad it is, no matter if you’re in different states or not. he makes you laugh. he (sometimes) makes you cry. he buys you things with that credit card that the charlie girl fixed up for the winchesters, takes care of you like it’s a part-time job that he actually enjoys, even if there’s no pay. maybe definitely, he just wants you.

so. you’re in too deep. you’re both in too deep. the lines between co-workers (wait– is that even a thing when you’re hunters? co-hunters?) and lovers blurs, and suddenly, you find yourself finding interesting, albeit slightly nauseating, hentai and smut on your boyfriend’s laptop whilst he’s out getting beer from the only store in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

nothing could be any more romantic. really.

it fucks her for hours, its appetite insatiable no matter how much she cums on it. her fluids leak down her dripping, stretched hole, run down her thighs as it ravages her body. she drifts in and out of consciousness, wondering if it’s all real–

“what are you doing?”

you grasp the sides of the laptop tightly, freezing up like you’ve become paralysed. it’s as if you’ve been caught with your hand down you pants as you will yourself to tear away your eyes from the glowing screen, only to find dean standing in the centre of the motel room. you were so engrossed with.. whatever it is that you’ve been doing that you didn’t notice him coming in. and, you also didn’t notice that the laptop started playing some of the porn that’d been saved on the hard drive.

“i, um, didn’t think you could read,” you reply, feeling your face warm up as there’s an overdramatic moan from the speakers. there’s an ache between your thighs as you eyes glance back at the screen, and then back to the man who probably definitely wants you to get fucked by tentacles. “is there–” another moan. squelching. your fingers fumble over the keyboard as you finally mute the video. “is there something you want to tell me?”

somehow, dean’s face is expressionless. he crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” and whilst he seems calm, in control, the laugh that accompanies his oblivion is unconvincing. “uh, you seem busy, so i’m gonna come back later–”

now, you could not put up a fight, accept that he’s going to live in denial that you now know about the erotic porn he’s in to, but you won’t. for a start, the evidence is right in front of you– bright, technicolour images of women getting fucked brutally by pulsing tentacles; literature that’s made of stuff that would give anyone a heart attack– and you’re not entirely sure if you can look him in the eyes after this. 

you’re not going to lose him over this– no, that’s too childish, getting embarrassed over your boyfriend’s interests. but, to your knowledge, there’s no wiki-how or anything that tells you how to handle something like this.

“–sweetheart?”

you snap your head back up, lowering the laptop screen just a bit. he’s still keeping a distance between you two, as if your budding curiosity is actually some strange, infectious perversion, and it makes something in your chest ache. 

“i don’t know what to say,” you decide to keep it honest, a little lighthearted, as he nods slowly. he shifts on the spot. “i mean– i don’t see anything wrong with this– it’s just–”

“–it’s just that you’re not into it,” he answers for you, leaving no space for you to confirm nor deny his claim. “and that’s fine, it’s cool– like– i’m not expecting you to be into that shit, ‘cause it’s just– it’s fuckin’ weird–”

between the two of you, neither of you can get out a coherent, complete sentence. your heart beats faster, your body aching with it, as dean rambles on. he’s trying to dig himself out of this hole he’s gotten himself stuck in, and you just can’t help but to imagine what he looks like when he–

legs spread. hand wrapped loosely around himself because, unlike you, he can actually hold himself with one hand– well, just about. head tipped back a little, as he strokes himself, wanting it to be you in the videos–

you shake your head. “dean– i. don’t. care,” even though you do, if the way your underwear seems to grow wetter with each passing second. “i mean, everyone’s got something that turns them on, and, y’know, it could be like child porn or something you were into.. and only then would we have issues,” and, of course, your poorly-phased and ill-timed joke lands with no laughs, but still, you continue. to try and make this as not weird as possible. “i just didn’t know you were into all this stuff, and you could’ve told me–”

“what, you wanna watch tentacle hentai together? let me hold your hand like i do when i eat you out?”

maybe this is because you’re a pervert (which, maybe). maybe it’s because you know that dean likes this, that you now can’t get the image of him touching himself to the vulgar content out of your head, your cunt throbbing like you’re literally on fire as your vision is filled with the lurid colours of cartoon girls getting all her holes filled by some tentacle monster.

but you really can’t forget what you’ve seen. the feeling of your heart pounding– much like the tentacles did into some young woman’s cunt– inside your chest as you try to process this new realisation is something of a heart attack.

tentacle porn. there’s tentacle porn on dean’s laptop. there’s tentacle porn on dean’s laptop and he enjoys it.

and maybe there’s also the fact that you enjoy it as well. you like it so much that it’s taking every bit of your self-control not to look back at the screen, even though you can see slivers of it in the reflection on the keyboard of the laptop, see how the girl writhes and moans. your skin feels hot.

however, this isn’t about you. 

“it’s– god–” you whine, you catch how dean looks unreasonably pleased, bobbing slightly on the balls of his feet when you do so. “like, i’m all for kink exploration, and i’m definitely down to do whatever you like–”

“so you’d be into it?” there’s more excitement in his voice than necessary, and you feel yourself grow even hotter. you realise your face is sort of in line with his dick at this height, and you have to drop your eyes to the slightly-closed laptop so you don’t think about how hard he is from all of this. it's all-too obvious as his dick strains against his jeans.

“no, it’s just– but i– i mean, this?” you find yourself saying to him, ignoring the visceral demand from your body to say “yes”. you push the laptop open, your eyes hurriedly looking for an excerpt to read aloud. to prove a point to him– that you are not into tentacle porn like he is. “here– and i quote; ‘each time the tentacles enter her, a spurt of liquid seeps from her pussy, joining the sheen of sweat on her body. they fuck into her relentlessly, brutally, never giving her a chance to’–”

and before you can continue, he’s gone. like, ‘out the door and probably not coming back’ gone.

you sigh to yourself, putting the laptop to one side. in hindsight, you should’ve known this was bound to happen;

maybe you’re just not perverted enough for someone who has enough trauma to fill the grand canyon. for someone who’s used hyper-sexuality like a shield to get through life, fucking one woman after random woman. daddy’s little soldier, or so you’ve heard over the years. 

but it’s weird– you’ll admit it because you can’t deny it any longer without feeling insane– fucking bonkers, and yet so undeniably intimate– even if he didn’t exactly share this with you. that, yeah, he may have run away, but he didn’t lash out, or even try to throw hands or some shit (compared to some guys you’ve been with, who lost their minds when you suggested they might have a mommy kink). 

you’re pretty sure the tightness in your chest is guilt. heavy-laden, sticking your bones and all to your muscles, restricting your breathing. it’s stupid– stupid– to feel like this, because you haven’t done anything wrong. neither of you have, actually. it’s just that you’re here, alone, and dean is somewhere, alone. 

all over fucking tentacles..

..but, to your surprise, he does come back. about five or so minutes later. bursting through the door whilst he’s slightly flushed in the face, looking as if he’s ran a marathon.. and the suspicious damp spot on the front of his jeans. naturally, your eyes wander there, and it doesn’t take you half a second to work out why it’s there.

“okay, uh– sorry ‘bout that–“

you blink slowly. “you jerked off?”

“hey, i’m only a man,” he points an accusatory finger your way, like you’re to blame for all of this, as if he wasn’t the one who had to go and jerk himself off over the thought of hentai. but he must catch your guilt-ridden face, because he’s straightening up soon enough. “i just.. i know there’s a lot of freaks out there, but i didn’t think you would be, y’know, into that.”

“what do you mean?” you laugh nervously. “i’m down for.. it.” you try to sound convincing, even though the words feel like barbed wire in your mouth as you force them out. 

“sweetheart, i’m not judging you or anything, but your version of ‘down for it’ typically consists of some apple-pie level shit– and, y’know it’s not that i’m not into it, but..”

you wave a hand, nonchalant. “it’s fine,” it’s not. “i get it.” you don’t get it.

you’re not very convincing, it seems, because he keeps going. “seriously, sweetheart? should i remind of when i tied you up and we did anal?” you feel that guilt dissipate, instantly replaced with horny nostalgia and mild shame. you know where he’s going with this. “how much you cried? jeez, even sammy cries during sex, but it’s nothing like the way you did– or do, really.”

you can’t decide if that’s an insult or a compliment. 

“so, uh– yeah, i can see it in your face that you wanna try it, but you really don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it,” dean pushes the laptop across the crumpled motel sheets, before sitting down next to you. you’re glad he’s now next to you, instead of before you– he can’t see the way your eyes glass over. “but i know you, and i know you won’t let this go no matter how much i say it, but i’m tellin’ you– we don’t have to do it.”

..so. you aren’t a pervert.

what you really are, is just a girl in love. a girl in love with someone much older than her, who knows things, is into kinky things. 

you swallow that uncomfortable ache in your throat, realising that he probably finds you endearing, enamoured by your innocence. empathy and sympathy don’t really exist in the dean winchester dictionary, but with you, they do. and you notice it– how, when he’s with you, those parts of his brain and heart are active. 

and as a man who thrives on repressed emotion and bloody hands, he’s going to have more.. perverse tastes. it’s only natural, because never in his life has he had something like this– precious and delicate, something to be kept behind glass and observed. 

simply put, it consumes you. the overwhelming peace you’ve seem to brought upon him, with that deep pit of senseless dread as you wonder when the impending end of your cookie-cutter relationship will hit you. because this isn’t him. this is not dean. he’s not made for domestic solitude. the yearning.

and all because you’re not–

“i want to do it.”

“wait– are you sure?” dean’s got your face between his hands, his eyes intent on your own. “‘cause, we really don’t have to, sweetheart, i’ll survive.”

you shake your head as best you can. “no, i’m serious. i want to do it.”

and it’s the first time you’ve sounded confident throughout this whole conversation.

of course, dean being dean, he just can’t help himself. with his mouth suddenly on yours, you can’t will yourself to pull away, and especially not when he drags you harder onto him, crushing his lips against yours. it’s sloppy, eager, loving. 

and when he pulls away, he grins at you– lovingly, unbelievably wide. you’re pretty sure you’ve died. 

“you’d really do it.. for me?”

fuck.

you can’t tell if this will be a bad idea or not. 

in hindsight, you should’ve known dean would pay for express shipping. 

however, you’d downplayed his excitement a little too much; not realising that the next morning, he’d been online and looking at custom-made dildos that were shaped like tentacles, talking feverishly about how many inches he could stuff inside your cunt. all the while you silently nodded and smiled, pretending you were not internally freaking out about those.. things going inside of you. 

(also, you don’t think sam will ever look at you the same way again, considering dean was hypothesising about how much tentacle dick you could take at the goddamn breakfast table). 

and now, you’re in the bedroom on the bed– the shared bed– elbow on your knee and your hand over your mouth. nothing’s actually happening at the moment, but your adrenaline-ridden anticipation is threatening to make an appearance in the form of a scream. or vomit.

every minute noise sets you more on edge than you were before. you’re merely waiting, something you’ve done before, but this feels different. it is different. you’re waiting, because dean’s gone to pick up his “special delivery”, and you wanted to get ready. for what, you’re not sure, as he’s kept his plans for you quiet. and dean’s not one to be quiet.

your mind feels like a never-ending hamster wheel of thoughts. the other hentai he has that he showed you earlier– and, yes, he did hold your hand like he said he would– plays on loops in your mind, making your cunt even wetter than it already is. and you just kept saying “yes” over and over, agreeing mindlessly to whatever he said or suggested, until you ended up here. feeling like you’re two seconds away from an euphoric-induced heart attack. because, soon enough, it’s going to be you.

using an anthropomorphic toy isn’t the type of thing you do in front of people (unless that’s your job, of course), let alone allow your boyfriend fuck you with a tentacle dildo and have a front-row seat. since this discovery, you thought about telling him how you used to ride his pillow to get off, make it fair and all, but you’d rather die before you did that. whatever this is, it’s enough extremely sexual intimacy for now. 

(though, you doubt that dean would judge you for that, considering what you’re about to do. it was only like.. just around one hundred times. but to be fair, you lost count in the end, so it was probably more).

the door to the bedroom creaks open, and dean strides in. he’s got something behind his back. as he catches the sight of you, his face lights up with that predatory grin, and that’s when you see it.

the box.

you gape at it. for something small (because he was kind enough to not want to kill you with this.. thing), it’s thirty-five, maybe forty inches. and whilst you know that’s only the size of the box, you’re more concerned with the contents inside.

silently, you pray there’s ice at hand. 

“you put that in.. someone?”

“yeah? that’s the whole point?” dean frowns, but softens up soon after– he must see the disturbed concern that’s etched into your face like a second skin. and, of course, he interprets it as you being concerned for him. “don’t worry, sammy didn’t see this,” he gently shakes the box, and you swallow thickly when you hear the dull, heavy thudding from inside. “you’re gonna be alright, promise. i know what i’m doing.. sort of–“

and when you find the words you really want to say, you cut him off and ask, “i still can’t believe you’re into this.”

“well, you never know what a guy may be into,” he shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing to admit to. it’s fucking tentacle porn, your brain screams. “and, i mean, i know what you’re into, sweetheart.”

it’s your turn to frown.

“it’s– just–” you lose your thoughts as he begins to hurriedly unbox it. something flips in your stomach when you hear him let out a quiet, low whistle. “sex doesn’t always have to be so.. violent.”

he turns to you slowly, raising a brow. “i know that,” his hand lingers over the half-open box. “and i’m not sayin’ there’s anything wrong with it, sweetheart. i’m happy enough to do what you like.”

“and that’s the thing!” you jump up from the bed, making your way over to dean. when you reach him, you feel a shiver of dreaded anticipation rush over you as you see it; the dildo. dark pink and swirled with purple glitter, probably definitely about ten or so inches. it’s obviously bigger than him, already making your insides hurt from the look of it, as you take in the pointed tip and thick base. the ridges that run up and down it, the slight curve at the end. as you freeze up from the sight of it, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in, your noses touching. anything to get rid of your fears. “you always do so much for me, and what do i do? nothing, that’s what. please– i just wanna– want to–”

“let me fuck you silly because i deserve it?”

it’s not the exact phrasing you’d use, but he’s not wrong. even outside of the bedroom, he’s doting; a downright lover-boy. there’s also the small things– showering you with affection and gifts, like he needs to anything and everything to keep you happy, even though you’ve told him countless times that he doesn’t need to. rakes his hands through your hair, buys you the ice-cream you like (even though it’s a flavour he hates). you’re something for him to take care of.

it’s sick– sick– how much he loves you. you’re in debt to him. and so, you’re going to push yourself out of the comfort zone, be a big girl, even though you’ve never been one to willingly get yourself hurt, let alone do something like.. this.

but all you want is for dean to feel good, just like he does for you.

“i– sweetheart,” he sighs, bringing you back to the present. you meet his eyes– ones you’ve looked at time and time again, but right now? they seem too intent; too serious. he must pick up on the anxieties that wash over you. “none of that matters to me, okay? all that i care about is how you feel. but the fact you want to do this– do this for me? okay, yeah, it means the world to me, but you..” he cups your face with one hand, lips grazing yours. “now. shall we get this plug out and.. stuff you?”

you nod shyly, feeling your cunt clench around nothing as he reaches around to palm your ass, his fingers fumbling blindly to find the plug. he’d wanted you to be ready– ready for you to take his cock as well as the dildo he bought for you. 

and because you’re nice and kind– and, well, you– you said yes. 

he’s quick to strip you down– drags your jeans off with no hesitation, chucks your panties onto the bed along with the dildo. when he’s gotten himself comfortable on the bed, he pulls you onto his lap, his hard cock brushing against your cunt and making you gasp slightly. you shift your position as you grind a little on him, your ass feeling strangely empty and loose now without the plug. but you don’t even have a chance to think of a complaint, before he’s pushing himself into your ass, making you cry out. 

“shh– ‘s okay,” dean gently clamps his hand over your mouth, forcing you to look at him through blurring vision. “‘m not gonna hurt you sweetheart; you know that. you–” he hisses through his teeth as your nails dig into his flannel. “you’re gonna be okay. just gotta trust me.”

every inch of him has you whimpering against his hand, you teeth wetting his skin. it’s nothing short of a lot, made possibly more painful and pleasurable as he begins to grind upwards into you, pushing himself further into your ass. the stretch isn’t like what you felt with the plug; new, moving, but it begins to mellow as you feel your breathing return to normal, your body (and ass) adjusting to his cock. 

“you good?” he asks, one hand on your waist as he finally removes the other from your mouth. you don’t trust yourself to speak, but nod firmly, blinking away the tears.

“yeah, i’m– ‘s just a lot,” you manage to get out, even if your stomach tenses every time your cunt clenches around nothing. he hums in response to this, his fingers wet as he drags them lazily over your cunt. “it’s– dean–”

“already so wet f’me,” he mutters, wet teeth grazing your jawline. you whine in response, feeling so exposed and vulnerable, as he pushes his fingers in. “bein’ so good right now, yeah?”

you let out a stifled gasp as he rubs against your clit. “yeah, i– i am.”

dean laughs softly at that, his mouth finding yours, as he continues to finger you. making you as ready– and loose– as possible, ready for what he’s about to do. and all you can do to contribute to this is whine and writhe, tell yourself over and over that he’s never anything but gentle and kind with you. he’s not going to hurt you. 

and, once you’re reduced to a begging mess on his lap, he pulls his fingers from you and picks it up. your brain goes numb at the sight of it, your mouth dry as he guides the fat, silicone tip to your wet cunt. the firmness of it startles you, threatening to push forcefully into your wet folds as he pokes and prods at you with it. in another time– one where you’re not about to get fucked with a tentacle– you’d have laughed, but not now. 

now, your breath catches when he pushes a bit harder, the fat tip grazing up against your clot and making you whimper. you press your face into his shoulder, his cock pulsing slightly in your ass. 

he’s most definitely getting off on this alone. 

you decide that by doing this– hiding your face away, because out of sight; out of mind is applicable here– it won’t be as bad, but as soon as the head pushes past your folds, stretching you ever-so slightly, you’re more than ready to chicken out. but you won’t. you will not do that to dean. 

a shiver runs over you as your cunt tried to grasp onto the couple of inches he’s got in you; those thick and ridged and thick inches. he’s still got you by the waist, hand wrapping around to the small of your back to pull you closer to him.. and also the toy. 

“don’t have to do this,” he reminds you, hesitating. “it’s fine, we can–“

you pull quickly away from his shoulder, shaking your head. “i can do it,” slips from your mouth, before you place your head back where it was. he doesn’t complain. “i’m– just–”

you take in a deep breath, holding back a whine as the girth of the dildo becomes too much. he’s still pushing it in, going as slow as he can, until he’s got as much as humanly can into you. he holds it there as he gives you time to adjust; the stretch is enough to bring tears to your eyes, you cunt tightening and spasming around the toy. you can feel the ridges against your walls, the corded veins of varying shades of pink that are never to soften. it’s just so fucking big.

it’s nothing short of overwhelming, even with dean ensuring you that this is safe and comfortable. but you can tell– he’s desperate to shove the toy into you. and you can’t deny that you also want him to do that. however, the two of you both know that this needs to be slow, taken at a certain pace.. though, you’re beginning to grow restless.

his hand gropes at the small of your back and your ass as you breathe in and out deeply, trying to regain control of your overwhelmed senses. his other hand leaves the toy where it is, sandwiched between his abdomen and your cunt, coming up to cup your cheek and bring your eyes to meet his.

“you promise me that you’re fine?” he’s smiling softly, but his tone is concerned. he brings your face closer to his, your noses touching. “‘cause you sound like you’re seconds away from a heart attack.”

and despite how your head is currently swimming, everything feeling like you’re on cloud nine, you nod lazily. it can’t have been more than five or so minutes, but it feels like you’ve been doing this for forever.

“look so fuckin’ pretty f’me like this,” he comments, planting soft kisses on your lips inbetween his words. “feelin’ good?”

“‘s good,” you find his hand on your face, removing it entirely and bringing his fingers to your mouth. “but i want you to fuck me.”

his brows furrow. “and i will– but let’s take this slow, yeah?” he’s looking at you in a way you’ve never seen before– all soft and tender; almost vulnerable– and it melts you, even if you’re whining and pawing at him. 

“wanna feel you,” you mutter. dean sighs, laying back against the headboard of the bed like he hasn’t got his cock shoved entirely up your ass, or an eleven-inch dildo in your cunt. despite the claims that you’re okay, that you can do this, you’re already sweating and panting. “‘s so deep–”

“yeah, i know,” he stifles a laugh, before he’s guiding your head back to his shoulder. he’s working the dildo in and out of you slowly now, his other hand either petting your hair or holding onto your waist and pulling you down onto him. he keeps praising you as you pathetically ride the two cocks stuffed in you. “and you’re doin’ so well, sweetheart. gonna be so gentle with you, ‘kay?”

his hand gently gropes the fat of your ass as he begins to push his hips up into you a bit harder– even though his cock is buried in you– making you whine. your face burns when his fingers scrape against your scalp, keeping you down on him. “just gotta– gotta stay where you are,” dean’s gritting his teeth, and if you weren’t so delirious, you’d pick up on his purposeful obliviousness. “helpin’ me out so much..”

his groans fill the sex-stained air, along with your own noises of either discomfort or pleasure (and with the way you currently are, you’ll never decide which one it is), as his hand tightens on your waist– especially when you tighten around him a little too much, whimper because you’re struggling to take two cocks. in a way, it’s comforting, having him to do, but it’s also not. it’s slightly humiliating, letting your boyfriend have his way with your body, stuffing you full in two very special places. it’d be rude to start complaining.. right?

when he pulls back the dildo again, using a bit more force than the last time to thrust it into your wet cunt, a sob slips past your lips and you grind your hips into his. you hear him hiss through gritted teeth, before his hand is leaving your waist and finding one of yours. 

“i’m fi– fuck,” your voice is all high and strung-out, the way it tends to do when you’re deeply overstimulated. though, on this occasion, you’re deeply, deeply overstimulated. “you’re just really good at this.”

without moving your head, you hear him huff. he places his jaw on top of your head as his fingers intertwine with yours. the sanctity, if you can call it that, of the moment invades your body with a certain warmth, some invisible and inexplicable promise. it makes you shiver.

“so fuckin’ good f’me, sweetheart,” dean mutters into your hair, pushing the toy into your faster; deeper; harder. the feeling of something so big and unruly being stuffed into your gaping cunt each time only makes you grind down onto his cock even more feverishly. “god, ‘m so glad you did this. gonna fuckin’ fill your ass, yeah?”

you let out a muffled mumble, something incoherent that even you don’t understand, trying to comprehend the pleasure you feel from the weight of both cocks against your walls. truthfully, there’s nothing left in your head– all you can hear is your own pathetic sobbing, his slight pants and strained groans. your cunt makes the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard– sounds that would put those porn videos to shame– and leaking, getting him and the bed all wet. and he seems to show no mercy as he repeatedly starts to shove the toy into you over and over, even when you stop grinding entirely.

dean pushes your legs further apart over his thighs, giving himself a better angle to fuck the dildo into you. you’re opened up enough for him to get one, maybe two, more inches in you, as you begin to writhe and grind on his lap again. you bite down on your bottom lip, ignoring the sheer burn that comes with the new stretch– deep, a little forceful, but soften slightly when his hand lets go of yours and finds its way to your clit.

with your face still buried in his shoulder, you open your eyes to a blurred, watery vision. you pull away entirely and meet his gaze. even as the tears start to fall more freely, your brain feeling like mush from the overstimulation that you think should definitely be considered a crime, he’s suddenly cooing at you, wiping away the stray tears from your face. 

“jesus, sweetheart,” he chokes on a laugh as his cock pulses in your ass. “y’see, i told you– you always cry durin’ sex. but at least you look pretty when you do.” 

slews of praise fall from his lips as he keeps fucking the toy into you, his thumb moving from your cheek and to your mouth, sliding it over your bottom lip and right in. you whimper around the digit as he starts rutting his hips up into you a bit more feverishly now, that tell-tale sign he’s close to orgasm. 

he’s rutting needily, desperately, whilst still thrusting that damn toy into your cunt that clenches around it tightly each time. you can tell he’s going to finish first– after all, this is his fantasy– wanting to get as much of himself in you as possible.

his breath hitches as he cums, a final, deep and hard roll of his hips, and you feel warm cum seep into your ass. you moan loudly around his thumb, your cunt and ass spasming around the two cocks shoved deep inside of you. you’re also close, and when he suddenly grabs your face by the jaw and gets you to look at him, you think you’re done. you’re completely fucked raw; covered in drool, eyes half-lidded as you gaze hazily at the man you so perversely love. 

“put it in,” you sob, your head aching with a nasty case of overwhelmed euphoria. he’s shaking his head, his hips stuttering under yours again as you feel more cum being pumped into you. “put it all in.”

“fine– fine. y’want me to put it all in?” dean asks, and you catch the way his hand shakes slightly with anticipation. you nod fervently, mutter something that comes out as incoherent nonsense. you’re determined to do the right thing for him– the best thing for him– and right now, that’s letting him fuck you raw. in both holes. “‘kay, then, just gotta– gotta take a bit more..”

through wet lashes, you notice how he looks down; admiring your gaping cunt, the one he made gape. the same cunt he’d worship any day.

the small yelp that you let out as he forces the final inches of the dildo into your cunt make him pause momentarily, before he’s grinning wickedly at you. with that, he manages to bury the toy into you right to the base, reassuring and cooing at you. “look at that.. fuckin’ did it for me, sweetheart,” dean admires, before thrusting all of it in and out of you. 

you don’t know if it’s all of the toy, or that you’re just too damn overstimulated, but you’re pretty sure you die when you do cum. the whole world seems to disappear, except for the feeling of two cocks in your body, the constant motion of them moving in and out of you. if you felt dumb before, enshrouded in a tranquility that you can only refer to as cockdrunk, you have no clue what it is that you’re feeling now. your grinding becomes extremely sloppy as your orgasm gets the better of you, leaving him to do all the heavy work again.

he keeps shoving the dildo into you over and over, at such a harsh pace until you’re sure that you’re blue in the face. your face is pressed to his, cheek-to-cheek, as he thumbs your face, still brushing away your tears, whilst you keep crying and whining. and by the time you’re both done, there’s at least three loads of cum stuffed into your ass, more of it leaking out and onto the sticky bedsheets. you’re both overstimulated, nerves shot straight to hell, but dean keeps up his promise of never hurting you; just holds you in his arms, his cock still pressed up inside of you, the toy buried in your sore cunt. the two of you aren’t moving any time soon, so, through laboured breaths and whispered sweet nothings, he keeps you in his lap, treating you like you might break at any moment (and you’re pretty sure you will). just like a lover would.

You can just about croak out the word, voice throughly shot.

“So good, baby.”

He rolls over from his back to his side, gently moving your hair from your face and running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away your smudged mascara.

“Proud of you.”

You can’t help but glow from the praise, his words washing over you all warm and golden.

You stretch your arms above your head, loosening up your muscles after being in the same position for a while. Eddie watches you roll your wrists and ankles, his fingertips tracing absent minded patterns over whatever skin he can reach.

He wriggles down the bed, kissing along your body as he does it. He stops when he reaches your ass, pressing gentle kisses to the sore flesh again and again and again. You giggle at the sensation, looking over your shoulder and catching his eyes with a cheeky grin.

“I’m gonna run you a bath with a shit ton of bubbles. And that lavender stuff you like.”

“Eds, it’s like eleven in the morning. The lavender will send me straight to sleep.”

“Oh, sorry - do you have plans?” he teases as he wraps you in his arms, both of you tangled in the sheets. “Because I was under the impression that we have absolutely nothing to do today. Other than each other.”

He winks and you can’t help but laugh in his face, which in turn only makes him smile harder.

“Come on, hermosa. You take a bath, relax, and I’ll make breakfast. Then we’ll have a nap, and I’ll fuck you again, then we’ll make dinner, and I’ll fuck you again, yeah?”

Who are you to say no to an offer like that?

“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling into his warm chest. “Sounds perfect.”

“Knew you wouldn’t disagree,” he whispers into your ear, pressing kisses into your hair. “Smart girl.”

You bathe in the afterglow for a little longer, perfectly content being nestled into the man you love on a Sunday morning.

For the past few weeks, your and Tim’s relationship has become strained. Most likely, it’s because his career has taken off, in terms of being promoted to Sergeant. You were happy for your husband though. You knew how much it meant for him to get the promotion. But ever since the promotion, he has been working longer hours, getting more work calls during his days off, or even getting called into work at the last minute. You have tried to be understanding of that, but it has been getting exhausting. You miss having your husband around. The house has been feeling so empty with him working more. You knew that you should say something, especially since it's been bothering you so much.

“How long is this going to go on?” you asked when he got home from work. In the morning, he mentioned to you that he might get lucky and be home past six for once, depending on the workday that would end up having. That didn’t happen though, he ended up coming home shortly after eleven.

“Probably for a while. I just got promoted, so I'm still learning how to adapt to being a field sergeant, so that’s why I’m working these long hours,” Tim said as he closed the safe where he keeps his weapon. “Why?”

“Because I miss you, Tim. I miss my husband,” you stated. “Before you got the promotion, you were home more. We were able to spend time with each other. And now, we don’t. When I come home from the hospital, after working my full time shifts. I come home to a quiet and empty house. I feel like I have been doing everything alone lately. Whether that be doing laundry, cleaning around the house, making breakfast, or taking Kojo for his daily walks, you name it. I’m alone, Tim.”

You had tears rolling down your face now. You know that you shouldn’t really be crying over the situation, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You were hurting, and what you have been feeling lately has just been eating you up. You just needed to let it out.

Tim didn’t know how to react. He has seen you get upset before, but not like this before. It broke his heart to see you crying. Tim took a step closer to you so that he could comfort you, but you stepped back.

“No, don’t” you sniffled. “I don’t need your pity, right now.”

When you told Tim that, his heart broke. He couldn’t believe that you said that, but you had every right to.

Tim just nodded his head.

“I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight,” you informed Tim as you were about to walk out of your shared bedroom.

Tim just nodded his head again. He wasn’t going to stop you. He knew that you needed your space for now.

———

It was your day off from work, so you were able to sleep in for a while. You didn’t have that much planned besides taking Kojo out for a walk. When you walked out of the guest bedroom, you woke up to an empty house. You weren’t surprised about that though.

“I guess, it’s just you and I for the day,” you crouched down to where Kojo was lying on the living room floor and petted him. When you stood back up, you looked over to where his food bowl was to see if he was fed or not, and he was. Tim must have fed him before he went to work.

———

“You’re tense,” Angela said as she and Tim were at her desk, just catching up about stuff. They had some free time since they just finished up the paperwork of a murder case that they both worked on. “Is there something that you wanna tell me?”

“Nope. Everything is fine,” Tim lied straight through his teeth. He didn’t even look at Angela when she said that. Right off the bat, she knew that was a sign that something was bothering him.

“Bullshit,” Angela deadpanned. “I know you too well. So, I know when something is bothering you. So, talk to me,” she said.

Tim sighed and looked around the station. “Let’s go to my office and talk,” he suggested. “I don’t want anyone listening to our conversation.”

“Works with me,” Angela nodded her head.

Angela and Tim sat up and headed over to Tim’s office which was down the hall. When they reached his office, she closed the door behind them.

“Okay, what’s wrong? Why have you been so tense ever since your shift started this morning?” Angela asked as she crossed her arms across her chest.

Tim leaned against his desk and sighed. “Y/N and I got into an argument last night.”

“About what?”

“About me getting my promotion,” Tim said. “She’s upset about the fact that I have been busier with work because of it. She told me that she misses me. She told me she hates coming home to a quiet and lonely house. She feels like she’s alone. Also, during the argument, she ended up crying,” he added. Tim felt like beating himself up now. He felt like a horrible husband.

Angela gave Tim a soft look. She felt bad, but that was more for you. She was more annoyed with Tim, “You made her cry, Tim? Why would you do that?” She asked with a fed-up tone in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know that she was going to end up crying when we got into the argument,” he objected.

“Well, did you at least apologize to her?” Angela asked.

Tim looked down and started to fiddle with the black silicone wedding ring that he wears when he’s at work. He didn’t want to look at Angela. Tim has an idea of what Angela’s reaction is going to be when he gives her an answer.

“Tim?” Angela raised her eyebrow at him. She was waiting for an answer.

Tim looked back up at her and sighed, “No.”

Angela pinched the bride of her nose and then put her hands on his hips, “Why?”

“Because she didn't want my pity. That's why,” Tim said as he sat up straight. “I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. I fucked up, Angela,” Tim ran a hand over his face.

“Tim. You need to apologize to her.”

“I know that, but how?’ Tim asked as he looked back at her. He already knew that a simple apology wasn't going to work.

“I can’t just say Sorry and that’s it, because I know she won’t forgive me that quickly,” Tim said. “Do you have any ideas on how I can apologize to her?” He begged.

Angela looked at the ground and started to tap her chin as she was thinking of ways that Tim could apologize. Then an idea popped into her mind.

“Oh!” as she snapped her fingers and looked back at Tim. “You could treat her to a spa day,” She suggested.

“I mean…that’s a good idea,” Tim nodded as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Plus, it’s been a while since Y/N has been treated to a spa day.”

“See! That would work,” Angela cheered.

“Okay then. Spa day is for Y/N,” Tim nodded his head. “Let’s just hope that accepts my apology though,” Tim sighed.

Angela didn’t say anything back to Tim. What she did instead, was that she took a step closer to him and slapped the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Tim asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

“For making Y/N cry,” She pouted. “I should have done it earlier though,” She added as she opened the door of Tim’s office and walked out.

Tim just stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe that his very good friend just did that, but Angela had every right to do that to Tim.

———

Tim was lucky enough to arrive back home from work at a reasonable time. It wasn’t too late, and he was so glad about that. He was planning on apologizing to you the moment he walked through the door. Tim shut off his truck and grabbed his stuff and got out and headed to the front door. Tim unlocked the front door and stepped in. He closed the door behind him,

When Tim stepped into your shared home, he saw that the back porch light was on and that you were out there with Kojo. Tim dropped his stuff on the dining room table and then walked over to the back screen door. He slid it open and stepped into the backyard where you were. You were sitting up on one of the lawn chairs, having a glass of wine. You looked up to your left when you heard the glass sliding door open.

“Hi,” Tim quietly said.

“Hi.”

“Can we walk?” Tim asked. Tim isn't usually nervous about anything, but for some reason, this situation felt different.

You just nodded your head. You put down your glass of wine on the table next to you and turned your attention to Tim.

Tim sat down on the lawn chair that was right next to you. “I need to own up to my mistakes and say that I’m truly sorry about the argument that we got into last night. The last thing that I wanted to do was to make you cry. That’s never my intention to do so. You have no idea how shitty I truly feel now about the fact that I have been working longer than usual in the past, and getting more work calls, and even getting called into work at the last minute. I don’t wanna become the person who is married to their job,” Tim shook his head. “I only wanna be married to you, and that’s it. So, once again, I’m truly sorry about last night.”

You wiped the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. Something about Tim’s apology really tugged at the strings of your heart.

“I’m sorry for last night too. I shouldn't have walked away and slept in the guest bedroom. We should have talked it out instead,” you shook your head and looked down at your hands in your lap.

“Hey, don’t do that. You had every right to do that last night. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded your head.

“Come here,” Tim motioned as he stood up, opening his arms.

You stood up from your spot and wrapped your arms around Tim. Tim embraced you in a hug. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. “I have something to share with you,” Tim informed.

You looked up at him, “What is it?” you asked.

“So, besides me apologizing to you. I went ahead and booked you a spa appointment at the Four Seasons this Saturday.”

“Oh! I do love a good spa day,” you exclaimed. “I can’t wait for Saturday then.”

Tim didn’t say anything back. He just placed a kiss on your lips instead. ‘Am I forgiven?” he asked as he pulled back from your lips.

“You’re forgiven,” you said as you pulled him in for another kiss. As you kissed him, Kojo barked at the two of you.

“See! Kojo is even happy that we made up,” Tim smiled as he pulled back from the kiss.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed.

You were glad that Tim owned up to his mistakes and came forward to apologize to you about it. You were relieved that you two could leave the argument in the past. You two can now just focus on what’s in front of you.

He had one hip cocked out to the side and a knee arched forward with his jeans hanging low on his hips.

It still felt strange to see Tim in 'casual clothes' rather than his work uniform, no matter how many times (Y/n) stayed over at his place. And to see him changed out of his uniform at the station when he was ready to go home was even stranger.

They both seemed to realise that she hadn't given him an answer to his earlier statement, and Tim shifted one hand out to point to the shirt (Y/n) was currently wearing.

It was his.

Tim had been wondering where that particular shirt had disappeared to. It wasn't anything special or memorable, just a simple black shirt that had Police written on the back in white block letters. Something that had made Tim smile when he saw it a month after joining the force so he decided he had to buy it, like it was a sign.

And now that shirt was draped over (Y/n)'s frame, hanging low down one shoulder and barely long enough to reach her thighs. Allowing Tim a bird's eye view of her underwear, since she wasn't wearing any jeans.

"Do you mind?" She already knew he didn't, but it felt appropriate to ask anyway. And the way his smirk morphed into a smile that caused his eyes to crease made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter.

"Suppose not, when you look like that."

(Y/n) glanced her eyes down when Tim walked towards her and she felt like she was floating on air when his arms circled her frame. It wasn't like this was the first time she had stayed over at his place, nor was it the first time she had stolen one of his shirts because it was comfortable and close to hand. But everything still had that air of anticipation and newness about it when it came to Tim.

This was a side that no one else got to see. This was the softer, calmer side that no one else knew existed. The side that (Y/n) had seen creeping through from the very beginning, or so she liked to think.

The feeling of his arms bound around her waist was grounding, and she felt like melting when she felt his chest merge down against her back like he was trying to mould them together. His lips attached to the side of her neck and (Y/n) hummed, tilting her head to one side while her hands reached down to clasp over his wrists once she set her cup down on the counter.

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) remembered he was on shift today. A lot of their shifts had lined up recently, but there were still the odd few where one would work and the other would be at home. And they sometimes passed at the station when one was leaving and the other was just arriving.

"Yep." There was almost an air of annoyance to Tim's voice, but he tried to hold it back.

It wasn't as if they actually got to work together when their shifts lined up, but at least they could see each other in passing and at lunch or when they were going to file paperwork and get signed off on arrests.

(Y/n) was still a rookie.

She had been on the job for almost a year now, but she was still seen as a rookie, one of the newbies, someone that might not make it on the job because it was hard at the best of times.

And with (Y/n) being a rookie, someone that needed to be trained and shown the ropes, being in a relationship with Tim wasn't strictly allowed. Although he wasn't her own training officer, he was still higher up than her and (Y/n) knew what the others would say if they found out.

They would say that she was getting preferential treatment, that Tim would put in a good word for her or go easy on her. They would say that (Y/n) was only dating him to advance her career, and she would gain a reputation.

None of that was true, but gossip spread like wildfire and it stuck like glue. For the time being, they had to keep their affections secret and that was fine with them both.

"You're working tomorrow, right?" Tim's voice sounded awfully distant in (Y/n)'s ears and she almost didn't reply as if the words had drifted through one ear and gone straight out the other.

"Hm."

Her eyes fell closed and she couldn't help dropping her head back onto Tim's shoulder like he was her personal leaning post, the only thing stopping her from hitting the ground.

She didn't feel the way his arms tightened around her, elbows imbedding in her sides as his brows furrowed slightly.

"You okay rookie?"

Her bare feet steeled against the ground like she was trying to be a flower spreading roots into the soil. She tried to hold her weight up a bit better so she wasn't fully leaning back on Tim but the twisting in her stomach was starting again.

She hadn't felt too good during the night between a headache and something similar to stomach cramps. Perhaps downing two mugs of coffee on an empty stomach in the hopes of perking herself up hadn't been the best idea this morning.

Although his words caused a flood of adrenaline through her stomach and she peeked one eye open to glance up at him.

"I'm not your boot," She spoke with an air of humour in her words because she knew that wasn't what Tim meant. From the first time they hooked up, he had taken to calling her rookie as a term of endearment and slight teasing rather than just a name for one of the newbies he worked with.

"No, but you're my rookie." He retorted in a tone so soft it didn't fit the tough-guy Bradford image he liked to give off at work. "You good?"

They both knew that whenever he said that, (Y/n) would turn to putty in his hands. There was just something sweet about that particular term being used affectionately rather than a slang or a crude slurr at work. It was normal for the traininng officers to call their trainees 'boots' but Tim could never call any trainee 'rookie'. Not now that it was his pet name for (Y/n). He wouldn't be able to look at anyone in the same way if he did.

"Just a headache, I'm good." There was no point worrying Tim when she was alright. Besides, she wasn't on shift today, she could go home and try to relax and take it easy and build herself up for her shift tomorrow.

Tim rose a brow as he looked down at her. He didn't seem very convinced until (Y/n) flashed that smile that always made his stomach tighten and had his heart adding in a few extra beats.

He pressed closer against her and craned his neck down until their lips were touching. He could taste the remnants of coffee on her lips and his heart almost gave out when one of her hands reached out to cradle his jaw. Her touch was so soft, so tender that it was like he was floating amongst the clouds.

His lips vibrated against hers as he hummed into the kiss and swiped his tongue across her parted lips before they both pulled up for air, and Tim let his forehead nudge down against hers.

He just knew today was going to feel like a long day when he wouldn't get to walk past (Y/n) or catch her eye at any point. He had always loved the job since the moment he started out, but now with (Y/n) there, Tim had an extra reason to enjoy work and say that the job was his life.

A horrible round of trembling set in (Y/n)'s system as she tried to hurry. Her feet were almost skidding against the floor and she prayed no one would come around the corner and catch sight of her. This wouldn't be her finest moment if anyone saw her in this state.

She wasn't going to make it.

One hand moved to cover her mouth whilst the other clenched into a fist at her side. She knew she looked like she was doing some kind of strange power walk and it wasn't something (Y/n) wanted anyone to witness.

She could feel her mind clouding over like her head was being stuffed with cotton wool and her eyes were starting to blot with white dots like thousands of tiny stars twinkling in front of her.

The door was finally within view. (Y/n) stretched her free hand out and bashed her palm into the centre of the door, slamming it open with so much force that the door swung back and hit the wall. There was no time to care about that.

As soon as she was in, (Y/n) dithered for a split second debating whether to rush towards a toilet cubicle or to the sinks. The sinks were closer.

Her knees almost gave out once she grabbed onto the nearest sink and doubled forward. It was hard to lock her legs in place and imbed them into the underside of the sink basin to stop herself from going down to the floor.

The sound her nails made scratching into the side of the sink made her shudder but it was the feeling of bile at the back of her throat and that awful twisting of her gut that made her feel worse.

Static built up in (Y/n)'s ears that were starting to ring and her head felt so heavy as she slumped forward, bowing her head over the sink in time to throw up the little amount of water she had managed to keep down today.

Eating hadn't been an option yesterday, even though she had gone home and tried to rest, every time she tried to eat she just felt like her stomach was tearing itself apart from the inside out. She felt tired and run down yesterday, eating hadn't been on her mind and she hadn't been that hungry. And today, it just seemed safer to abstain from food and try to keep her fluids up instead until her system was settled and back to normal.

Clearly that wasn't happening today if water wouldn't stay down. (Y/n) would have to try and keep drinking though, she couldn't be doing a twelve hour patrol shift with no energy and no fluids.

This had to stop, (Y/n) couldn't be feeling like this when she was out on patrol. Pulling over for her to throw up or driving around with her head hanging out the window wasn't going to be an option.

Not with (Y/n)'s training officer. Hanks wasn't the kind of person who accepted someone being unwell on his shift.

Part of (Y/n) wished she had Tim as her TO. As bad as it would be to date her training officer, (Y/n) would have preferred Tim to Hanks. Tim was sometimes harsh and he was always on the ball and straight down the line, but he was fair. He made sure whoever was on patrol with him was understood and taught properly.

Hanks wasn't like that. He liked to tease, to taunt and to do that sometimes he would go against the rules or sit back and do nothing and let situations get bad so he could 'teach her a lesson'. When (Y/n) had felt unwell not long after she first joined him on patrol, he made it clear that if she tried to take a back step or had to leave early then she would be seen as weak and he would make sure to tell the Sargent that she was slacking off.

Another cough burned deep within (Y/n)'s chest and she could feel the water trickling past her lips and spitting into the sink that was the only thing stopping her from crashing to the floor.

This feeling had to pass, (Y/n) was due to go out on patrol and she couldn't do that when she felt like this. She needed to go and get ready before Hanks went in a mood if she was late.

Trembles and shock seeped into her bones when the door opened and (Y/n) could barely hold her head up when she tried to look and see who had walked in and caught her in the midst of feeling unwell.

"Oh, sorry." Lucy wasn't quite sure why she was apologising, it wasn't as if she had opened the toilet stall and found (Y/n) indisposed. But it still felt like an intrusion when there was no one else in the toilets and (Y/n) was clearly feeling unwell.

She didn't look good. Lucy bit her lip as she stepped forward and let the door close behind her while her gaze looked over her friend. (Y/n)'s skin was flushed with sweat and she looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. She was positively shaking as she clung to the sink, taking deep, ragged breaths like she was trying to calm herself down.

"You don't look well, maybe you should go home." There was nothing rude or sinister about Lucy's tone, in fact she looked and sounded very sympathetic.

She took a step closer until she was at (Y/n)'s side, watching as (Y/n) took a deep breath before she straightened up.

Her hands were shaking as they roamed up and down her shirt, making sure it was tucked in and there were no creases on her uniform before she looked up at Lucy like she was in a daze. Her smile was almost drunken as she turned on the tap and splashed some water on her face.

Going home wasn't an option, (Y/n) was here to work and this is where she would stay until the end of her shift.

Her hands flexed at her sides, shaking off the droplets of water that felt cold and refreshing against her burning skin. She was going to have to drive with the windows down like she was an engine that shouldn't overheat.

"Yeah, not possible. Hanks has it in for me, if I go home sick o- or if I admit I'm ill, he'll fail me in evaluation. I'm good."

(Y/n) offered Lucy a tired smile and squeezed her arm before she weaved around her. Her senses were already coming back to her and unbelievably, she felt better now. Maybe an empty stomach was what she needed until she could get rid of whatever was wrong with her system. She would try and eat something tonight, maybe a bit of bread or a small bowl of soup and then try again tomorrow.

Deep down, (Y/n) knew she didn't sound believable. She knew that one look at her showed she wasn't one hundred percent and that she looked dishevelled at best. But everyone here was a hard worker, no one took personal days or sick days for a minor inconvenience and (Y/n) didn't want to be like that.

She wanted to be someone that the squad could rely on, not someone they thought was always slacking off. And she didn't want Hanks to fail her evaluation, that would put her one foot out the door if he did. She was a rookie, and everyone would look down on her until she had been here for longer and had proved her worth.

Her right hand reached out to prop against the wall when she turned the corner and tried walking like a normal person. Without the wobbling or wavering or doubling forward like she was going to throw up again.

She had work to do.

Lucy felt bad. She gnawed and chewed on her lower lip as she left the toilets and made her way down to the parking garage where she knew Tim would be waiting at the shop for her.

Her hands fiddled with the belt looped around her hips and she tried to keep her eyes peeled, but she had a feeling (Y/n) had already gone out on patrol.

Maybe she should have said something. Maybe she should have tried to reassure (Y/n) that she wouldn't be in the wrong or doing a bad thing if she took a break or went home for the remainder of her shift. There was a reason they had sick days, they were there to take not just for statistics.

But it made her wonder as she walked, would Tim be the same as Hanks if she were ill?

Thoughts and questions rolled around in her head which kept her oddly quiet and pliant as she climbed in the car and buckled up without a word. And clearly Tim noticed her silence.

His eyes kept glancing towards her with furrowed brows and growing confusion.

Tim wasn't sure he'd ever had a boot as nervous yet somehow confident like Lucy. She was always contradicting and questioning him and she didn't seem to like any silence, at any point. But she hadn't said a word since she climbed in the car.

"Alright boot, what's wrong?" If this was going to be some kind of personal drama then Tim would cut her off. He didn't need to know if that was the case and he didn't want to delve into her personal life. It would truly distract them if they had a call and they couldn't afford to be distracted. That was how accidents happened.

But if it was something to do with a job, or a specific question she had in mind then Tim would try to answer or set her straight. At least Lucy was willing to learn, more than the other rookies he had trained.

Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like if he had been assigned (Y/n) instead of Lucy. He wondered if they would still have gotten into a relationship if they had been paired together and spent each twelve hour shift in one another's company.

Tim knew he could be evasive and abrupt at the best of times and he was no picnic to patrol with. But he and (Y/n) seemed to have clicked instantly and a relationship just sort of happened, despite Tim knowing much better and understanding that it wasn't within the rules to date a rookie. The only blessing was that they weren't assigned together, so not as many rules were being broken here.

"Boot?" He asked again when he received no answer, a sigh entwined in his tone as he waited slightly impatiently for her to answer.

"Say if… if I wasn't well, would you still expect me to work and have your back?"

A frown pulled at Tim's features and he quickly glanced to the right to check whether she was trying to catch him out, but her tone and that worried glance told him that she wasn't. She was genuinely asking for his opinion and what he would expect of her in that situation.

She didn't look ill. Did she feel sick? Was something on her mind that might distract her from the job? If that was the case Lucy should have told him before they got in the shop and started driving.

Straightening in his chair a little, Tim moved one hand to run along his freshly shaved jaw while his other hand flexed around the steering wheel.

"How ill are we talking?" It felt like they were playing a game, like this was an exercise he would do to try and test Lucy on her codes and violations and her rookie handbook.

"Throwing up and sweating kind of ill." She cringed as she spoke, like she couldn't believe she was doing this.

But if Lucy got into the same state as (Y/n), she thought it best to find out whether Tim would react the same way Hanks clearly would with (Y/n). She would hate to take a sick day and then have Tim be annoyed with her if he expected one hundred and ten percent commitment whether she might make him ill or be a liability or not.

Again, Tim took the time to glance over at Lucy but she looked fine. She wasn't sweating through her uniform or going a pasty colour. Her eyes were in focus and she was alert, she wasn't groaning in pain or wriggling in discomfort or looking like she was about to pass out.

"I'd expect you to go home, boot. You can't have my back if you're throwing up in my shop- which I won't allow by the way. If you're not at your best you need to rest until you are. Why, you not feeling good?" His tone softened around the edges as they locked eyes.

Tim was all for being the harsh TO, the one people feared being partnered up with, but he liked to think he was fair. He wouldn't ride around the shop with someone if they were ill and needed to rest and go home. He wouldn't make Lucy stay on patrol if she had to take a day.

He would rather her go home and look after herself or sort out any personal drama so she could be fully committed to the job each day. Distractions always proved to be dangerous.

"No, no not me… I saw (Y/n) earlier, she didn't look great. She said Hanks will fail her evaluation if she admits she's sick."

Lucy slouched down in her seat and started to entwine her hands together to keep her mind occupied. She felt like she was snitching on a friend to a teacher.

But with her eyes focused on her hands, she missed the fire that flashed across Tim's eyes. His hand that was on his jaw suddenly clenched tight and his nails pierced into his skin, pinching at his jawline that looked like it had been chiselled and carved out of stone.

That better not be the case.

Tim better not find out that Josh Hanks was going around telling all the rookies placed with him that if they were ill then it would put them at a disadvantage or worse, he would fail their evaluations.

That wasn't how things worked, that wasn't how anyone should be trained when they joined the force. None of them were immune to sickness or mental health days or having personal issues and if they needed to take a day or two then that's what they did.

God knows when Tim's marriage went south, he had to take a few days off. Maybe not as long as he should have to get his head back in gear- because work helped keep him focused and stitch together his fractured reality- but he still took some time because he knew he was of no use to anyone when he had been that volatile and angry.

"Then he's not a good TO. We're not machines, boot, we have sick days for a reason."

It took all of Tim's effort to bite down on his tongue and refrain from asking about (Y/n).

He wanted to ask if (Y/n) seemed okay or how ill she looked or what Lucy thought was wrong. Tim knew while he had been on shift yesterday (Y/n) said she tried to rest and she told him last night that she felt better. But clearly she still wasn't well and she hadn't said exactly what was wrong.

Tim knew if he started asking questions then Lucy would get suspicious. He never asked about any other rookies because in his own words, Lucy was the only boot he was responsible for. And if he let slip that he knew (Y/n) more than just to say hello to, then questions and rumours might start flying around the station and he didn't want that happening. Not yet.

He knew that Hanks wasn't the best officer out there to be training the new recruits, but if these were the kind of games he was playing, then Tim was going to have to keep an eye on him.

***

The sound of a car boot slamming echoed through the garage and pulsed around the bricks like a heartbeat. It echoed and vibrated in Tim's ears like the sound was following him as he hauled the equipment bag up onto his shoulder and locked the shop. Lucy had already gone ahead to start processing the person they'd arrested.

A sigh parted Tim's lips and he started to circle the keys around his finger, swirling them until the metal was clinking together like the toll of a church bell. It gave his mind something to focus on, that was, until Tim walked out the garage and into the corridor.

The very person that had been playing on his mind was now stood ahead of him like he had managed to conjure her up all on his own.

He stuffed the keys into his pocket, leaving his hand free as he took a quick look around to make sure no one else- particularly Hanks- was within sight or earshot.

(Y/n) had been staring down at the floor like she was in her own little world, right until a large hand suddenly curled around her arm.

Her lips parted with a strangled sound and her head shot up, eyes locking with Tim just as she was about to raise her other hand to grab or slap him, her mind hadn't quite decided. The tension started to fade from her limbs until she felt like she was turning to jelly but she quickly glanced around. Although deep down (Y/n) knew Tim wouldn't be holding onto her at all or standing this close if he knew someone was nearby.

There was a strange look in his eyes.

(Y/n)'s head angled to one side and her tired eyes narrowed as she stared up at him, wondering what was running through his mind. Those pale pink lips of his were pressed together in such a way that they were almost invisible and his jaw looked square from how tightly he was clenching his teeth.

But it was his eyes that made (Y/n) quiver. Those pale eyes were piercing into her like he was trying to look right through her into her soul. She watched his orbs gaze her up and down, and not in the way that she was used to when they were in private.

He wasn't smiling and his pupils weren't blown or glazed over as he stared at her. They were constricted and focused like Tim was looking for something in particular.

"Are you alright?"

His question took her by surprise and before she could think better of it, (Y/n) curled her hand around his bicep, her upper arm still in his rather tight grip. Her thumb began to brush and stroke across his short sleeve, ruffling the cuff and tickling his skin.

"I- I'm fine, why?" What had gone through Tim's mind to make him panic? He didn't usually interact with her like this when they were at work and he'd never been this bold to reach out for her before when he knew anyone could walk down the corridor and see them.

Had something happened to another patrol unit? Did he hear something over the radio and think she had been caught up in it? (Y/n) knew if it was the other way around she would have panicked if she thought Tim had been involved in a shooting or people being taken hostage. He could handle himself, but (Y/n) would still worry.

"Chen said you didn't look well earlier. But you told me you were feeling better." Tim tried to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice, but there was a tiny flicker in his voice as he looked down at her.

She told him she felt okay last night, but clearly Lucy had seen something different today and she had no reason to lie. She had no idea that (Y/n) and Tim were seeing each other.

The end of his nose twitched and his upper lip curled when (Y/n) wouldn't look at him or keep eye contact. So Tim was right in guessing that she wasn't as well as she tried to tell him she was.

"I- I felt dizzy, but I'm alright now." It felt like a lie and (Y/n) tried not to grimace at her own words and the lack of passion in her voice.

She had cranked up the aircon in the shop while she and Hanks had been out on patrol and sitting down for a while had settled her system. But she knew she was still sweating through her uniform and when Hanks sped up, her head spun in circles. But she was up and walking about now and as long as she didn't have to do any running or anything too over-exerting, then she would be okay until the end of her shift.

"And you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" There was a hint of emotion in Tim's voice that he just couldn't hide and it made (Y/n)'s heart soar and had a genuine smile forming on her lips.

"Yeah," Her reply was instant and it made her debate about asking him what she should do, but she only had a few hours of her shift left. Surely she could make it to the end.

When she felt Tim's hand loosening on her arm, she gave his bicep a squeeze and focused her gaze on the name tag pinned to his shirt. "I'm back out on patrol now, need to clean the shop before we go."

Her heart fluttered when Tim's fingers curled surprisingly softly around her chin and he nudged her head back so their gazes interlocked again. He had one brow arched up and that scrutinising, calculating look was back to his features like he was debating whether or not he truly believed she would be okay.

But Tim had to trust (Y/n)'s judgement. If she thought she was okay then he had to go with that, he couldn't decide for her or go to the Sergent and say she wasn't well and needed to go home. That would just cause chaos and raise too many questions. And he certainly didn't want to stand here and order (Y/n) to go home, that wouldn't be caring of him, it would be controlling.

With a sigh, Tim nodded and let go of her chin though he didn't want their touch to part.

"Be careful."

He meant to weave around her. He was going to walk past her and be on his way, he really was. But it was an opportune moment with no one else around them and that uncertain, slightly dazed look on (Y/n)'s face was doing something to his heart that had been in a frenzy since Lucy said (Y/n) wasn't well.

Tim leant down and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. Nothing lavish, the touch seemed to disappear before it was ever there. But (Y/n) could feel her skin igniting and her nerves sparking from where the touch had been and her lips formed into a smile even as she listened to Tim's retreating footsteps.

But he looked back. He looked over his shoulder as his brows furrowed. Walking away felt like he was making a big mistake; her temple was flushed, like he had pressed his lips to a flickering flame.

***

A sigh rumbled through Tim's chest as he rolled his head from side to side, clicking his neck into place with such a snap it sounded like it had broken. He thought he'd come out of the fight earlier in the afternoon unscathed, but clearly the person he had pursued in chase had fought Tim harder than he thought. His neck was aching and his shoulders were tender in a way that suggested he would have bruises in the morning.

All part and parcel of the job, he thought to himself. At least he could go home now, and Tim would be able to keep an eye on (Y/n) now. She had already agreed earlier that she would come round to his place after their shifts ended.

He wrangled a fresh shirt carefully over his head, trying not to strain his shoulders too much and he pulled the hem down over his jeans and his belt.

Once he'd patted down his pockets to check he had everything, he nudged his locket shut and pulled out his phone.

He barely scrolled past his lockscreen before a loud bang echoed around the locker room and had everyone jumping in panic. Tim resisted the urge to reach for his belt. He knew instinctively that the sound hadn't been a gunfire and it would only be other officers in here, no chance of any gunfire or anyone trying to cause a scene or take hostages. Guns weren't needed.

But it was Talia's voice that caught Tim's attention over all the rest and had his attention peaked.

"Shit- oh God."

The room was spinning. (Y/n) felt like she was standing on a hoverboard that was being shaken from left to right sending her every which way. Her sense of balance had been distorted, whatever way her head was leaning, her body was following.

She could feel the sweat soaking through her uniform and she was sure if anyone else looked close enough at her, they would see it too.

She should have told Tim the truth, she should have admitted that she didn't feel great when she saw him in the garage. He would have helped her, he would have squared it with the Sargent that she could leave early and go home to rest.

Pushing through this for the sake of pride and to keep the peace with Hanks hadn't been worth it. He knew she had been feeling crappy too because his driving had been almost erratic; he had caused (Y/n)'s brain to turn to mush from being rattled when he sped in the patrol car.

Each beat of her heart was felt throughout her body, her skin was vibrating and pulsing like a boombox and she was sure that if she looked down, she would see the skin on her arms lifting and moving like it was breathing with her pulse.

All she could hear was the ringing in her ears but it was so consistent that it seemed to turn silent.

Her left hand clenched around her locker door but she could barely feel the cold metal against her skin.

Everything was overwhelming. Her body was too heavy to hold up on her own anymore, and her locker door was too flimsy to prop her up. She couldn't even lean on her locker, her grip had already loosened and her hand was flagging by her side.

The sound of her knees bending and hitting against the door created shockwaves, but it was the sound her body made when it slapped against the cold tiled floor that seemed to stun the room into silence. The moment her head hit the cold ground, (Y/n) was out like a light and her eyes were rolling to the back of her head.

It was a relief to have her brain shut down.

Tim didn't like that echoing sound, not did he like Talia's reaction to whatever had happened. His hands were flexing at his sides as he sped up to the next row of lockers and leaned around to see what was happening.

His blood ran cold when he looked down. (Y/n). His (Y/n), his secret rookie, crumpled down on the floor like she had been shot in the line of duty. With Talia knelt down beside her and Lucy stood close by, her shoulders pressed back into her locker as she stared down at (Y/n) like she didn't recognise her.

Even though Talia was already one step ahead and clearly about to try and check (Y/n) over, Tim knelt down. He took charge, and he didn't care who was looking or what they might say about him hustling in.

(Y/n) wasn't well, and he wanted to know why.

He ignored Talia who was about to reach out for (Y/n), and he ignored the look she gave him with knitted brows and pinched lips as he seemingly took over. His knees hit the floor with a bang and he shuffled closer until he was able to arch over (Y/n), his dominant presence being enough to make Talia lean back out the way.

His hands reached out so he was cupping either side of (Y/n)'s neck and he carefully turned her head so her cheek was no longer meshed against the floor.

He stroked his thumbs along her cheeks to try and rouse her, but she was out cold; her unconscious state being the only thing about her that was cold. The rest of her was heating up. So much so that Tim shifted one hand to press the back of his hand against her temple to feel a sticky layer of sweat gluing them together.

"(Y/n), are you with me?"

No response. Not like Tim was actually expecting one, but it still tore away at him that (Y/n) couldn't even nudge her cheek into his touch or give out a little murmur that she was alert. And when he slid his thumb down and tried to pull her eyelid to check her pupils, he couldn't even see it; her eyes were rolled to the back of her head exposing only the whites.

His breath held deep in his lungs while he pushed his index and middle fingers against her throat, counting each throb of her artery which told him that her pulse was too high.

A huffed "Okay," passed Tim's lips along with the click of his tongue as he started to move (Y/n).

One hand cupped the back of her neck while the other moved to slide beneath her thigh and he carefully rolled her so she was lying on her left side with her back facing him. Once she was in place, Tim leaned over her to stretch her arms out towards Talia so they weren't squashed or crumpled beneath her.

He could feel his breaths starting to run away without him when he looked around and noticed that everyone was simply crowding round like this was some kind of game or a free show just for them.

"Don't just stand there, someone call for a fucking ambulance." Was he the only one qualified to do anything? Did they not think it was appropriate to call an ambulance since (Y/n) had clearly collapsed rather than just falling asleep or tripping over?

Part of Tim was relieved when he saw that it was Lucy calling for an ambulance. At least his boot knew what the Hell she was doing and how to be helpful in this situation.

And he was glad when he watched Talia wave her hand and utter for everyone to back off. They didn't need an audience, if no one else was going to do anything to help then they could make themselves scarce.

When he looked back down at (Y/n), he couldn't help but reach his hand out and loop his index finger into the collar of her shirt. He pulled it back just a little, brows knitting together as he noted how much she was sweating. She had to be feverish to be this flushed and soaked with sweat. If (Y/n) were a temperature gage she would have blown by now.

"She's burning up… there are ice packs in the kitchen." There was no room for debate in Tim's voice when he glanced his eyes up to look at Talia. He was telling her what to do rather than giving a suggestion or simply making conversation.

And she didn't hesitate. They all had to look out for each other here and she would happily try and make herself useful, even if she wasn't too sure why Tim had taken charge. Unless it was because he wanted to prove how accomplished and useful he could be and to get the glory of helping a fellow officer.

Within moments she was hurrying back into the locker room, weaving through the crowd that had shifted to stand near the wall so they could see but weren't too close that Tim would argue with them to get back.

Four ice packs were juggled between Talia's hands and she crouched down opposite Tim, spreading the packs out on the floor so they could each grab one.

Tim placed one against the back of (Y/n)'s neck, tugging her collar out the way so it was flush against her skin. And he took a deep breath before he leant back on his heels and tugged (Y/n)'s shirt out from where it was tucked into her waistband so he could press the second ice pack against her lower back.

He was glad Talia took the initiative to press one against (Y/n)'s chest just beneath her collar bone. Tim didn't want to be seen doing that in front of others, despite being platonic and professional it might have been seen as overstepping by some. Talia placed the last ice pack in between (Y/n)'s arms that were pressed together while they were stretched out in front of her.

Having them near her pulse points and on her chest would help to bring down her temperature until she could get to hospital and the doctors could get her fever properly under control.

"She's not injured?"

Tim wasn't sure whether Talia's question was rhetorical or whether she was asking him for his opinion. Either way, his brows furrowed and he glared at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Does she look ill to you or could this be from an accident on patrol? Gray won't be impressed if this is the result of an injury."

Tim's teeth punctured down into his lip to stop himself from responding too quickly. He couldn't very well admit that (Y/n) told him she wasn't feeling well yesterday either, it would raise too many questions and Talia knew Tim well enough to know when something was up. She would start to suspect.

But she was right in asking because if (Y/n) had gained an injury from work and didn't tell anyone or wasn't allowed to seek medical attention for some reason, then Grey would blow a fuse. He wouldn't be impressed if one of the new rookies was hurt and they were liable for it. They were all supposed to look after and train the new rookies, not let them get hurt.

"She looks ill to me." Turning to the right, Tim glanced up at Lucy. "Chen, you said she was sick today?"

"Wh- uh yeah, yeah she didn't look well this morning, I think she's sick."

Whether an ambulance was close by or this was deemed as a high priority call due to it being at the police station, Tim couldn't be sure. But an ambulance turned up within minutes and he was secretly relieved. The longer they stayed here, the more questions would be asked and the more people would start to crowd round to gawk at (Y/n) and find out what was wrong with her. That wasn't fair. And she needed medical attention.

When the paramedics came through, Tim shuffled to one side but he stayed relatively close. With one knee imbedded against the floor and his other foot planted on the floor with his knee pushed up and his arm resting against his thigh.

Something tugged at his heart when (Y/n) moved. It was hard to steel his expression and try to keep that neutral, blank expression on his face that he adopted whenever he was out on patrol. He tried hard and his teeth chomped down on the inside of his cheek to stop his lips from twitching in any direction when (Y/n)'s hands started to move.

Her movements were uncoordinated, floppy and still ever so shaky like she had developed Parkinson's overnight.

Whatever sound muffled past her lips, no one could make out or gage whether she was trying to say a specific word or just making her voice heard and known. It didn't really matter though.

(Y/n)'s hand scraped along the floor and her arm lifted similar to the way a minute hand would tick on a clock. Her arm shuffled along the floor until it was raised near her head and as soon as her fingers touched against Tim's jeans, she dug her nails into the fabric. She scratched and pulled weakly to gain his attention.

Tim took her hand before he could think better of it. To anyone else, it would look like she was simply trying to gain some help from a friendly face nearby. She wanted reassurance and Tim was more than happy to do that. No one else would know that (Y/n) was secretly reaching for Tim specifically and that she was after his comfort and affection.

"(Y/n), it's Bradford." His voice was quiet and there was a usual gritty edge to his tone because he knew Talia and other onlookers might hear him. He couldn't risk saying anything that would give their relationship away.

He gently curved his fingers around her clammy hand, peeling her touch away from his jeans so he could grip her hand instead. His thumb stroked along the back of her hand while his eyes focused on watching the medics get to work.

They set her up on an IV drip that she barely felt, they checked her rising blood pressure and tried to ask questions, none of which (Y/n) was in any state to answer- if she even heard them.

(Y/n)'s fingers stayed deadlocked around Tim's hand even as the medics got her onto a stretcher and began to wheel her out of the locker room. Tim had no choice but to walk alongside her, but he would have followed whether (Y/n) was gripping his hand or not.

"You're gonna be fine." Tim gave her hand a squeeze and kept his eyes on (Y/n) rather than all the officers pausing and gathering in the halls to witness what was going on. Anything to get the gossip that seemed to run this place.

A silent debate began in Tim's mind as they neared the main doors to the station where the ambulance was parked directly outside. He debated whether to go along in the ambulance or to hang back and make out that he would drive home so he could drive to the hospital and be with (Y/n).

He might get a few looks for going in the ambulance, but he would be able to brush it off as trying to be a good officer and friend when no one else seemed to be willing to go along with (Y/n). Tim knew what it was like to ride in an ambulance alone and be taken to hospital, it wasn't a pleasant experience and not one he would want any fellow officer to have to do alone.

The debate was put on pause in the back of his head when he just happened to glance to the right.

Josh Hanks.

(Y/n)'s training officer. The person that had spent the whole shift alongside her; the one person that should have noticed she wasn't well and known something wasn't right. It shouldn't have taken Lucy spotting (Y/n) in the toilets or Tim helping her collapsed in the locker room to find out that she wasn't well.

It was Josh who should have seen her deteriorating and told her to go home or get checked out by a first aider. He should have sensed that something was wrong. There was no way he couldn't have known.

"Hold that ambulance." Tim uttered to the paramedic and he carefully managed to peel his hand out of (Y/n)'s tight grip.

He turned, taking large strides with hands clenched into fists at his sides and his sights solely focused on Josh. The closer he got, the angrier he started to feel, especially when he looked at Josh and could see him trying his best not to smirk, but he was failing badly.

He was actually gloating and smiling as if this was a prank that had gone in his favour. What did he think he was doing?

Rage started to bubble over within Tim and before he could stop himself, he reached out and gave a harsh shove to Josh's shoulder, causing him to stumble back three paces.

"What the Hell did you do to my- to the rookie?"

Shit; he almost gave himself away. The petname always rolled off the tongue when he was referring to or around (Y/n) but the last person he wanted to find out about that was Josh Hanks.

Almost gave himself away.

"What are going you on about?" His response was half-arsed and he was quick to fold his arms back over his chest once he regained his sense of balance.

Tim's eyes furrowed and his lips morphed into a snarl as he tossed one arm back to point in (Y/n)- and the ambulance's direction. "(Y/n). She collapsed, because she's under the impression that you'll fail her evaluation if she's ill. Did you seriously tell her that? Didn't you fucking see that she was getting worse?"

"She was fine-"

"Does she look fine now to you?" Tim looked over his shoulder, his glare now set on the ambulance that (Y/n) was being put into. She certainly didn't look fine. He knew- he knew, he should have done something back at the parking garage when he saw her.

But he didn't want to be seen as controlling or pushy so he kept his mouth shut and backed down. Maybe if Tim insisted on (Y/n) taking a break then she would have said how worried she was about Hanks and Tim could have done something. He could have mentioned something to Gray or collared Hanks and told him to teach the newbies properly. Then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

"Oh come on, she's not the first rookie to feel queasy in the shop. I only told her that I don't take slackers. She can't be on the force if she can't handle the shifts."

Red.

That was all Tim could see when he looked at Josh. He hadn't told (Y/n) anything of the sort. He'd practically blackmailed her by telling her that if she took any sort of time off or left early, she would be a liability and not worthy of the job.

And something about the way he spoke about (Y/n) feeling ill in the car made Tim sure that Josh had been the one driving; and he hadn't gone easy on the corners.

"You tryin' to tell me you've never gone hard on a rookie before, Bradford?"

Something close to a laugh cackled at the back of Tim's throat and he shook his head in disbelief. "We're training officers, we don't set them up to fail. Your boot is going to the hospital, you think there won't be a report on this?"

Glee dwelled in Tim's stomach when he saw a flash of something cross Josh's eyes. Worry perhaps, maybe a glimmer of anger directed at Tim, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to forgive Josh for this and Tim certainly wasn't letting this one go.

He took a step back before he felt the urge to start throwing his fists. He couldn't start a fight here at the station when there were enough colleagues around to point the finger and risk his job. As if he wasn't risking everything already by falling head over heels for (Y/n).

“Hey deac” Luca spoke up as Deacon entered the locker rooms. “Morning guys” he replied greeting the rest of the team. “Tan was just telling us about how Bonnie is jealous” Chris spoke up while they all got ready for their shift. “Bonnie is not jealous; I’m telling you guys she isn’t like that” Tan tries to defend. “What happened that everyone things she jealous?” Deacon asked.  

“Last night we went on a date and when we were walking to our apartment in the hallway this girl was getting harassed by this idiot and I helped her out. After he left, she told us she just moved in and it happen to come up she also spoke Cantonese. I happen to mention it was so rare to find another person who speaks it by coincidence and after that Bonnie’s mood has been off. She won’t talk, she’s basically doing everything she can to avoid making eye contact with me.”  

Deacon hisses feigning pain when he hears the story, “hate to break it to you man but that’s jealousy. I can’t believe you can’t wrap your head around this, she is jealous because that woman who speaks your language probably shares your religion and values growing up in a Chinese American home is now living next door to you. She feels less than now that she has someone to compare herself to.”  

Tan took a second to process his words before he finally understands how it all went wrong, he never even thought Bonnie would think like that. “How are you still single? You should have girls falling at your feet” Tan jokes.  

“Jokes on you bro, he does” Street says making everyone laugh as they walk out of the locker room to meet Hondo. Before much words can be exchanged, Hicks walks in with a case assigned to the team. “20-David, we’ve been handed over a case, apparently the financial crimes and the narcotics division can’t solve it and they want us to wrap up this up. Also, we have intel the man doing the money laundering are armed and dangerous.” 

Hicks goes on to explain the details of the case to the team, saying a man who supposedly goes by the name Authur Lopez has been moving money around through other people’s business. He also may be using them as a stash house. The problem is no one can seem to figure out which business he is using to clean his money. “They know he’s dealing but they can’t prove it, we need to find the proof to bring this guy in” 

“We may have a lead though, detective Chase that was previous the lead on this case said he found Auther has an old high school girlfriend who recently moved to town, we aren’t sure if they have had any contact but it’s worth checking out, she might know somewhere he might hide” Hicks finishes up letting the team take the case. Street and Tan both start researching your home and workplace addresses and they found something. 

“She owned a bookshop, just opened a couple months ago, around the same time we caught wind of Authur and around the time she moved into town, her business could be the one she’s using, she sells books, it can be a good cover if her business gets traffic, and judging by the location I think she’d be doing well.” Street says as he pulls up the location of your shop on the screen for the team to see.  

“I found her home address, it’s an apartment complex about 3 blocked from the shop.” Chris says and pulls the location for them to see. “Okay Street, Tan with me we’ll check out her apartment. Luca, Chris and Deacon you can check out her shop she might be there, she what she knows if she’s willing to talk.” Honda hands out their assignments and everyone jumps in a car their destination.   

When Deacon, Chris and Luca arrive at the bookshop they walk in and don’t immediately see anyone around. They walk a little deeper into the shop and you step out from one of the isles the shop isn’t so big that someone can hide, unless they are in the back room. “Hi there, is there something I can help you with?” you say in a sweet voice.  

At the sound of your voice Deacon whips his head, he stutters a bit when he sees you for the first time. Your hair fell curly down your back, you wore jeans that fit your hips but flared down over your ankles with cute brown sandals, you wore a gorgeous floral top that complimented your skin tone so perfectly. “Hi, Ms. Y/n? I’m Sergeant Kay, this is officers Alonso and Luca, we are here to ask you a few questions.”  

You look up at the handsome sergeant standing in front of you and your brain almost lags. “Sure, happy to help” you smile at him clasping your hands together. You gesture to the chairs and small sofas scattered around the room for them to sit and you do the same. “Ms. Y/n, we believe a man you know has been involved in some illegal activity and we wanted to know if you had any information you could share” the girl who’s name you learned was Chris spoke up. 

“Who?’ you asked her, “The name Auther Lopez ring a bell?” Luca asked you. Authur Lopez, you were never able to look at men the same after him, he was your high school sweetheart. You were going to marry him. That was until you found out he was dealing in high school and left him. “A couple months ago he found my shop, said he was keeping tabs on me and asked if I would consider giving him a job. Auther and I dated in high school, I broke up with him when I found out he was dealing, not only that but he was on them. I’m not sure what I never asked. When I hired him, he promised he was clean and so I agreed. Actually, his shift is meant to start in about 10 minutes, he has to come here.” 

“What is he involved in?” You asked them directly your question to no one in particular. “We believe he dealing again, or maybe he never stopped who knows. We need to bring him in a find the location of his stash house before he can distribute his product.” Luca spoke to you.  

“You’re welcome to wait here until he shows then, I had no idea he was still dealing” Luca made a call to someone while Chris asked to look around the shop and you agreed. Deacon didn’t move though, he sat right there in front of you the whole time. “Are you back together?” his voice was quite as he spoke but you heard him, “No, I’m not interested in starting things back up with him, he has done nothing but disappoint me, I only gave him the job because he said he needed it and he was getting clean.” you matched him tone while you looked at him. 

He was so pretty you could barely take your eyes off him, if you weren’t looking at his chest printing out in the tight SWAT t-shirt you were looking at his chocolate brown eyes, if not that, the you have never seen a man look so good with a beard and that usually wasn’t something you’d go for, the hints of grey just did something to your brain.  

Deacon wasn’t any different, he was too busy staring at you to realize you were staring back, he admired the way your curls look so full but not frizzy at the same time, the way he so easily got lost in your beautiful eyes, and let’s not talk about your figure, he has never seen anyone look so beautiful before.  

“So, Sergeant Kay-” 

“Deacon, call me Deacon” 

“Deacon, you’re a SWAT sergeant what is that like?” you smile when you ask him. He was confused for a quick second how did you know he was in SWAT? Until he remembered he was working, he was dressed in uniform. “It’s good, I like it, it’s dangerous and it’s a lot of work but it pays off in the end. So, books?” he returned the question.  

“Yea, I've always been a reader” you giggle as you continue, “It’s very calming to read, takes my mind off things when I’m stressed, a way to pretend you’re someone else.” 

“How could you want to be someone else?” his tone was breathy, it had a hint of a chuckle in it, it made you blush. It was so easy to get caught up in him you forgot all about what he was here for. Luca walked back into the shop; the noise of the chimes pulled you back to reality. He was met with the sight of you and deacon staring at each other with flirtatious smiles and cleared his throat to get your attention. 

“The others arrested Authur on his way here, they have him in custody. Hondo said meet back at HQ” Chris moves out with Luca and Deacon was about to follow them, “Wait!” you stopped him resting you hand on his arm to stop him from walking. You ran into one of the isles and grabbed a book off the shelf, “Here, an excuse for you to come back that isn’t work related. Now you can go” you smiled at him sweetly and he chuckled at your sweet gesture. “I’ll take you up on that.”  

Deacon walked out the bookshop with a wide grin in his face and he sees Chris and Luca waiting for him with matching grins, seems Luca had filled Chris in and they both clocked the book he didn’t walk in there with. “Ouu someone’s got a crush” Chris said in a sing song tone.  

A few days later the case was wrapped up and Deacon was sitting on a comfortable chair in the SWAT main room with his legs propped up as he read the book you gave him. He isn’t you paid attention to the book you handed in when you grabbed it but it was an interesting book.  

He has been teased non-stop by the team since they all heard about what happened, no one can see him sitting with that book in his hand without saying something about you. They even went as far as to make a bookmark with your face on it and stick it in his book so every time he opened it, he would see you. It was entertaining the say the least but now that the book was in his hand and finished, he felt nervous to see you again, this time he had no motive to hide behind other than he just wanted to see your pretty face again. 

“Hey Deac, we’re gonna hit up Luca’s food truck, do you wanna come with?” Chris asked Deacon as she packed up her things at the end of the shift. “I’d love to but, I have to swing by the bookshop and return this book y/n gave me” He waited patiently for the teasing and right on cue, “You going ask her out?” Chris was grinning like a school girl.  

“I want to, I will, I’m gonna...maybe”  

“Sergeant Kay is nervous? There is a first for everything. But seriously all jokes aside, I saw the way you looked at each other. She will say yes, no need to doubt yourself” Chris smiled at him and punched his shoulder as they walk out of the locker room.  

Deacon rushed to his car saying a quick goodbye to the team and driving to the bookshop before you closed. He opened the door and say you writing something sitting on a high chair behind the desk. “Hey” he said with a small smile.  

You look up from your book and smiled when you saw him, “You came back” you said matching his smile as it grew larger, “I guess my excuse to come see you worked, great book by the way, never thought I’d be into enemies to lovers but apparently I am” he chuckled and put the book down on the desk. 

“I’m glad you liked it; I wasn’t sure you were the type” you giggled. There was a moment of silence between you. A moment where you just stared at each other, admiring. “I have to close up the shop now, it was really nice of you to come back Deacon, it was nice to see you” Deacon smiled at your words knowing exactly how you feel.  

“It was nice to see you too.... hey do you want to join me for some dinner? I know a great food truck not far from here, we could swing by and get something” you wanted to burst with happiness, you didn’t think he had it in him to ask you out but he did.  

“Of course I’ll go with you, let me just grab my purse and lock up” you smiled you sweet smile at him and you giddily ran to the back room to get your stuff, hearing him laugh at your antics.  

When he opened the car door for you at the food truck you smiled and took a big inhale. He watched you fall in love with the smell of the food and you walked right up to the menu, “I don’t know what to get” you said to him, “Order for me”  

Deacon was about to speak when he heard his name being called out, his team was still here. He turned his head in sync with yours and watched a bunch of people walk up to you both. You instinctively stepped closer to Deacon but you quickly recognized Chris and Luca from earlier in the week.  

“I see you asked her out” Chris said. 

“I can’t believe it took him so long” another boy said who introduced himself as Jim Street 

“Oh, give him a break, it’s been a week” their team leader spoke up, Hondo. Their comments made you blush and you hid your face with your hands giggling. Deacon put his arm around your shoulder to shield you from the teasing while they laughed at the situation wholeheartedly. You're so happy Sergeant Kay came to your bookshop.  

🔹I hope you all enjoyed reading! I’d love for anyone to Reblog my work, Like and Comment so it can be shared! I’ve been wanting to write for Deacon for a while and I’m finally starting!

🔹On another note. Deacon is hot as fuck. And I want to write him in a nsfw kind of way. Eventually not atm I’d like some feedback on how you would feel after reading my work.

Taglist:

In the Beginning 

When you first began working with criminals, you never expected your life to be threatened. Sure, there were risks of taking a job like this, but all you were asked to do was to determine whether or not a person was classified as fit to go to trial. That meant oftentimes you had to postpone hearings and trials due to a person's mental capacity. 

You understood how upsetting it could be and you understood why people would blame you for justice not being brought forward. It was easy to empathize with those people, but it didn't mean your life needed to be in danger. 

The first night your life was threatened you were just getting home from a grueling day in the office. Your feet ached and your stomach grumbled. Upon your arrival home you found a note taped to your front door. You tilted your head inspecting the letter before you ripped it off the door. Bile rose in your throat as you read the letter. 

I will kill you for what you've done 

The note was scribbled haphazardly and hardly legible, but you were well aware of what it said. Never in your four years of working had you needed to go to the cops. People you'd worked with time and time again. 

The Los Angeles Police Department was unhelpful when it came to answering your pleas. It wasn't until you went to your childhood friend Jim Street that you were finally heard. 

You hadn't seen Jim in over 3 years. After he left for swat the two of you hadn't had much time to get together anymore. You spoke occasionally, but had no time to really see each other anymore. 

When you showed up at his door he was surprised to see you. The greeting was cut short, you were rushed and scared. As you explained everything to Jim, Luca, Jim's roommate and coworker listened carefully. He was actively trying to think of a way to get you helped out. 

"What about Deac's security business?" He piped in. 

The two of them looked at one another.

They spoke briefly to one another about their old coworker. Explaining to you how Deacon departed from SWAT and took up doing security details full time. You nodded as you listened to them. It wasn't a bad idea, but you didn't know how long it would be before something would take place. 

As if they heard you in your head they had already made the phone call. Luca spoke briefly with someone on the phone, you assumed it was Deacon. Jim smiled softly at you, trying his best to give you some kind of comfort. 

You stayed with Jim and Luca while you waited for Deacon to arrive. You felt safe with them and you took advantage of the opportunity to rest. With eyes closed you lulled to sleep for the first time in days. 

Your slumber was rudely interrupted by a warm hand on your shoulder. The action made you jump, and your eyes searched for the culprit. Jim smiled at you sheepishly, apologizing with his eyes more so than with words. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He told you. 

"It's okay, just, jumpy is all." He nodded his head in understanding. 

"He's here." Jim stated. 

You got up and followed Jim out of the den and back into the living room. Luca talked to another man, you assumed it was Deacon. 

Luca turned when he saw you come into the room. His face lit up, he had already accepted you as one of his people. 

"Hey Deac, this is her." He patted the man on the shoulder and he turned to face you and Jim. 

You hadn't paid him much attention before he turned, but you were shocked to say the least. He was a surprisingly handsome man, and it made your heart pound in your chest. 

In the few seconds before Luca introduced the two of you, you allowed your eyes to trace over him. The hair on his head was mostly gray aside from the occasional dark strand here and there, his beard joined in the majority of gray. The black t-shirt he wore hid no ounce of his muscled form. You wondered if he wore a shirt two sizes too small on purpose.

A clearing of a throat disturbed your thoughts. You blinked rapidly and pulled your eyes away from Deacon. Luca introduced the two of you and you shook Deacon's hand. Heat creeped up your neck as he stared down at you, with a soft smile. 

The smile slowly faded and he crossed his arms over his chest becoming serious. 

"Luca tells me you need some protection? Care to explain the story to me a little bit?" He asked. 

You nodded, and took a seat on Luca and Jim's couch. You explained the story to him as thoroughly as you could. Jim grabbed your shoulder in comfort a couple of times when the emotions overwhelmed you. 

"This isn't the usual detail my team and I take on, but you're a friend of a friend. I'll make sure you're safe. I'll work on this personally." He nodded to you and to Jim. 

Tears welled in your eyes. 

"Thank you Deacon." He smiled and nodded again. 

"Of course. Now, first things first. You need a safe house of some sort while I work with my team to track down the people after you. Is there somewhere you can think of that won't be public knowledge?" He asked you. 

You thought about it for a moment before you nodded. 

"I do.”

Present 

The cabin air was frigid as you made your way back inside. Placing the firewood in its rightful place you take a piece and set it on the fire. Rubbing your hands together you enjoy the warmth seeping into your skin. A car pulling into the driveway draws your attention away from the fire. 

Getting up you make your way to the window on high alert. Your guard falls when you spot Deacon getting out of his car. You watch as he scans the area before coming to the front door. He knocks twice on the door and you go over to it to open it. 

When he enters he hands you the bag in his hand. 

"What's this?" You ask. 

Deacon smiles softly, "Dessert." He states and you peer inside. 

Your smile widens upon seeing apple pie and vanilla ice cream in the bag. 

"Damn, Deacon, I'm surprised you got something so unhealthy." You laugh. 

He shakes his head, "I eat ice cream." 

"Doesn't look like it." You mutter to yourself. 

"What did you say?" He asks. 

"Nothing. Ignore me." You shake your head. 

Taking the bag into the kitchen you unload everything into the freezer.  You notice dishes still left over from this morning in the sink and go over to wash them. Under the running water your thoughts drift over the past 2 months. 

It felt like nothing was happening. You felt stuck, and frozen. Like a prisoner with nowhere else to go. This was meant to be for your own protection, but being stuck in your family's old cabin in the woods was driving you to madness. Plus, being stuck here with Deacon, alone for all hours of the day was testing every amount of strength and willpower you have. Which was just about none when it came to the older man. 

Since the beginning of month 2 things have felt different between the two of you. In month one Deacon wouldn't even sit on the same couch as you. He always sat in the chair furthest from you at the small table in the dining room, and he never looked at you for a moment more than necessary. 

Now, something was different.

He sits next to you on the couch and actually joins you when you watch tv. Now, he doesn't hide his lingering gaze, nor does he sit in the chair furthest from you when you eat. The subtle changes in his behavior drove you mad. 

From the very beginning you were heavily attracted to him. Now, even more so. 

"Hey," Deacon's voice draws you from your thoughts. 

"You okay?" He asks. Coming forward and leaning against the counter. 

Your eyes are drawn to the way his arms bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and look away. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He chuckles and leans forward, your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He switches the water off and leans back against the counter. You let out a breath and close your eyes. 

"You were washing the same dish for 10 minutes. Obviously something is wrong." He states. 

"10 minutes?" You ask and he nods. 

You let out a deep sigh and grip the edge of the sink. Tears well in your eyes and you decide not to hold them back any longer. You let yourself cry and put your head in your hands as you lean on the sink. Deacon touches your back and you allow yourself to lean into it. He rubs soothing circles on your back and allows you to cry. 

After a while you sniffle and wipe your face. 

"I'm sorry." You wipe at your eyes and look over at him. 

His smile is sad as he looks at you. Deacon swipes a stray tear from your cheeks and cups your face in his hand. He leans in as if he's going to kiss you but, then the moment is broken when something clicks in his head and he pulls away clearing his throat. 

"Don't be sorry. I'm gonna go contact my team. See if there's any updates." With that he exits the kitchen. 

Fuck. You think to yourself.

For the rest of the day Deacon avoided you like the plague. It made you feel even worse than you already did. Loneliness pangs in your chest as you sit on the couch and aimlessly scroll through the channels. 

Deacon busts into the room and you jump. 

"We have to go now." He states, throwing your jacket at you. 

Jumping to your feet you throw the jacket on and follow Deacon to the back of the cabin. You grip his jacket tightly in your hand trying to stay close to him. He turns and looks at you, pressing one of his fingers to his lips. 

He opens the door quietly and inches out slowly. Deacon grasps your hand in his and drags you out into the woods. The two of you run for a while before he stops. 

"You see that ridge up there?" He asks pointing. 

"Yes," You pause looking at him. 

"Go. Get up there and hide. Don't come out until I come get you." He instructs. 

You grip his arm. "Deacon, what if you don't come back?" 

He grips his phone in his back pocket and places it in your hands. 

"Call, Street. Tell him where we are. Tell him to send the team." He states. 

You nod, with tear filled eyes, and trembling lips. Releasing his hand you take off up the hill and hide. Pulling Deacons phone out of your pocket you dial Jim. 

"Hey Deac," 

"Jim, it's me. Deacon told me to tell you to send the team. Hurry Jim. I'm scared." You sob. 

"Where are you?" He rushes out. 

"Near the Oregon border." You stutter out. 

"Keep the line open, we're tracking Deac's phone." You nod, but he can't see you. 

Gunshots could be heard in the distance. Tears fall freely now, rolling down your cheeks. 

"Got it, we're on the way. Stay hidden." He urges and the line goes dead. 

You pull your knees as close to your body as you can trying to hide away in the dark nook. The gunshots fade in the distance and your heart races faster. Every part of you wants to run and see if Deacon was okay, but you listened and stayed put.

After what felt like forever a helicopter could be heard overhead. Staying in your hiding spot you close your eyes and hope they make it to you soon. You were freezing. 

After a few more minutes you could hear voices and footsteps. Some shouting out how many people were dead, others asking where Deacon was. You heard Jim's voice in the distance calling for you. Now you got up from your hiding spot and went tumbling down the hill. You ran as fast as you could back in the direction of the cabin. 

"Jim!" You yell his name when you finally see him. 

He comes running towards you and you slam into him. Hugging him tightly, tears once again falling freely. His hand goes to the back of your head as he holds you close. 

When you pull away you search his eyes seeing if they hold anything. 

"Where's Deacon?" You ask. 

There it was. Jim averts his eyes from you for a brief moment. Something the normal eye would never pick up. You grip his arm tightly. 

"Jim please, tell me." You beg.

"He's alive, but he's been shot. Plus some other injuries. He wasn't conscious when we wheeled him out of here." He tells you truthfully. 

Your shoulders sag. "Is he going to be okay?" You ask. 

"We don't know yet. Come on, let's get you out of here." Jim wraps his arm around you. 

"But, it's not safe." You stop. 

"It is now. Has he not told you?" Jim asks. 

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?" 

"Deacon, and his team were able to locate the men who threatened your life. He had me, Hondo and the rest of the team go in and take them down." He pauses for a moment. 

"Some got away. They had found your location and we couldn't get to them before they left. We were just barely able to warn Deacon before they showed up." He finishes. 

You haven't cried this much since your childhood pet died when you were 16. A part of you died that day with him. Now, here you were crying over a man you may never get to see again because he too might be dead.

Jim leads you to the helicopter and helps you get in the seat before doing so himself. You watch the land below get smaller and darker the higher into the air you go. Jim grabs your hand and squeezes it for a moment. You know it was him trying to comfort you. Jim had never been good at that. 

Being able to go back to your home felt wrong. It was crazy to think that two months living in the unknown would change your entire view on your life. You desperately want to go to the hospital to see Deacon. Make sure he's okay for yourself, or see for yourself he's not okay. 

Jim agrees to take you to the hospital. Upon arrival you notice how many people were there for Deacon. He was held in high regard amongst his former teammates. It was a sight to see. 

Someone calls your name and you look in the direction of the voice. The man you knew as Hondo approaches you. 

"We've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you." He tells you with a genuine smile. 

You nod, unable to form words of any kind. Your throat was sore and scratchy. Making it feel impossible to speak at the moment. You need water. Once again reading your mind, Jim appears with a bottle of water in hand. You smile thankfully at him. 

"Thanks." You croak out.

You find a seat and wait with the rest of the people in the waiting room. The hours tick by as all of you wait for an update on Deacon. 

Three hours after you get to the hospital a doctor comes out of the OR doors. Everyone stands, and the doctor's eyes widen. 

"Are all of you here for Mr. Kay?" He asks. 

Everyone nods. The doctor takes his glasses off and wipes them before adjusting them to his face once more. 

"He's going to be fine. Recovery will suck, but he will recover. Gunshot wound, cracked ribs, fractured arm, the list goes on. It's a good thing he has all of you." He nods. 

"Can we see him?" Your quiet voice pokes through the crowd. 

"It's after visiting hours, but I can allow one of you back." He states.

You expect someone to go back and see him, but when no one does you step forward. Jim nods at you. You found it odd the people who have known Deacon the longest would allow someone who's only known him for two months be with him while in this position. 

The doctor nods and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you down the hall of hospital rooms and stops when he reaches Deacon's door. 

"I'll have them bring in some blankets and pillows. If you don't plan to stay, let me know." He states. 

"No, I'm staying." He nods and leaves. 

You examine the small hospital room. The monitor beeps to the rhythm of Deacon's heart. This is the first time you've seen him in over 5 hours. You weren't sure if you ever would. 

Taking him in you frown at the sight of him. A bandage on his left cheekbone, busted lip, a splint on his right arm. He was a mess, all because he was protecting you. 

You pull the chair over to him and sit down beside him. 

"Damn you, Deacon." You whisper. 

You grab his open hand into your own, looping your thumb around his. He didn't close his hand around yours, but that didn't matter. Feeling his pulse thump in his wrist was enough. You lean your head down and place it on the bed, closing your eyes. Allowing yourself to take in his warmth. Meaning he was very much alive. 

A nurse enters the room and gives you a soft smile before setting up the small bed in the corner of the room. You silently thank her. Your eyes snap to Deacon when you feel his fingers wrap about your hand. 

His eyes are just barely open as he looks at you. 

"I'm sorry." He croaks out. 

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." You raise your eyebrows at him. 

"Scaring you." 

"Deac, you saved my life. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I'm the reason you almost died." You grip his hand tighter. 

He laughs, then groans in pain. 

"It was my job sweetheart. You don't have to apologize either." He reassures you.

"I guess we both need to stop apologizing." You laugh out. 

"I guess so." He gives a small smile. 

You rub his arm softly and he watches you do so. 

"You should get some rest." You tell him as you stand up. 

He watches as you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as you linger a moment longer contemplating things in your head. His beard scratches your cheek as you loop your arm around his neck in an awkward hug. 

"I'll be right here if you need me." You tell him. 

He nods. Flicking the light in the hospital room off you make your way to the small bed in the corner and try to sleep. 

"Goodnight Deac." 

"Goodnight Sweetheart.”

Tagging a few who may want to read it : @obiknights @chelseasdagger @streakyglasses