#hyperfixationthingss fics

That... shouldn't have happened. The thought flashes through your mind as you watch the remnants of your chemical mixture dispersing into the air. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth and nose, but you know it's too late. You've already inhaled some of it. Though not lethal—which is somewhat reassuring—the real problem is that you have no idea what effects these chemicals might have on you.

You had been experimenting—against everyone's warnings—to discover how the supersoldier serum worked. Not to recreate it, but out of pure curiosity because of Bucky. While you claimed your interest stemmed from the chemical aspects, how it had altered his DNA to transform his body, deep down, you knew you were doing it to learn more about him.

Bucky was always there with you—training, watching movies, sharing midnight snacks when he found you awake at night. You had learned that he rarely slept, and when he did, nightmares would wake him. Sometimes you would stay with him after he dozed off during a movie or show. You didn't know if your company helped him sleep better, but you hoped it did.

You two were close, but a part of you ached for even more closeness. These feelings sometimes kept you from getting closer to him, as you didn't want to risk heartbreak—not when you needed to stay focused on the missions assigned to all of you.

The mask that should've been on your face sat on the table behind you, and you now regretted not wearing it. Thankfully, you were alone in the lab; the risk of exposure for others was zero—or so you thought until you saw the laboratory door open.

Your hand left your face in a quick attempt to yell, "Do not breathe in!" But it was too late. Bucky was already inside and right next to you, breathing in the compounds that lingered in the air.

"I heard an explosion. Are you okay?" He looked at you with worried eyes, trying to see if you had been hurt, ignoring your warning about not breathing in.

"I'm okay. It was just some chemicals, which we shouldn't be breathing in," you reminded him again, but it was too late. You both had been exposed to them already, consequences unknown.

Instead of covering his face, Bucky's hand moved to cover yours. It was bigger than your hand that had been over your mouth before, and it felt warmer.

"That was not what I meant," you mumbled against his hand. He needed to protect himself, too.

"I'm sure it won't affect me, but what if it affects you?" His question showed genuine concern. He wanted to protect you, but you wanted to tell him that being a super soldier didn't mean he was immune to everything.

"You have to go and change clothes. Let's go."

Before you could even reply, Bucky was rushing you out of the laboratory. "I need to clean before anyone else enters," he said. Finally, outside, he removed his hand from your face, and you could speak clearly.

"You change. I'll clean it." Bucky nodded as if it was the most logical solution, but you worried. He wasn't a lab guy. And you really didn't know what effects the mist could have on both of you.

You had been analyzing DNA and its effects on hormone enhancements. Adrenaline, oxytocin, dopamine... you'd probably be okay.

He was pulling you to your room, checking on you as you both walked—or more like, ran.

Inside your room, he checked on you once more before he left to go clean. "Get rid of those clothes. You need to change. What if your skin starts turning red?" Bucky had no clue about the things you did in the laboratory, especially when it related to studying his enhancement. You wanted to explain that it was unlikely to happen, and that even if it did, you both had inhaled enough that it would affect more than just your skin.

That was a thought you didn't want to entertain.

Bucky had left you to go back to your lab. Inside, he could see dust particles floating in the air, though the atmosphere had settled compared to when he first arrived. He grabbed one of the masks and put it on before starting to clean—knowing you'd be upset if he hadn't taken this precaution.

Cleaning was straightforward: wiping down the floors and counters. He expected to finish quickly, but suddenly his entire body began warming up.

It was strange; he'd been fine just moments ago. Sweat trickled down his back. When he wiped his forehead, his skin felt like it was burning.

He tried to focus on his task, ignoring how his body seemed to be on fire. Worried it might be from the chemicals you both had inhaled, his thoughts turned to you—were you experiencing the same reaction?

The thought of you brought more than just concern. It unleashed something he'd buried deep inside himself for so long—something he could no longer contain. Longing. Desire. His mind drifted to your touch against his skin, your body pressed against his, his metal arm pulling you closer—he wanted you. He wanted you so desperately he felt he might explode.

His pants tightened uncomfortably, making his breathing quicken. Thinking about you only intensified his condition; his cock pulsed beneath his jeans, and he craved nothing more than to be buried inside you.

His mind fought against these feelings, but Bucky was losing the battle with himself. He wanted to regain control, to push these thoughts back where they belonged—at the edges of his consciousness—but he couldn't. He considered relieving himself right there, but anyone could walk into the lab.

He was in agony, with no clear solution.

It didn't take long for the chemicals to affect you too. As you removed your clothes, you felt your body burning.

Maybe Bucky was right, you thought—perhaps it could burn your skin. But this thought vanished when you noticed your racing heart and your nipples—now exposed to the air—becoming hard and sensitive.

Being a scientist, part of you understood what was happening, but you couldn't focus. All you could think about was the sensation overwhelming you, and Bucky.

Bucky. Was he experiencing the same effects?

You wanted to ask him, but getting dressed and walking to the lab seemed impossible. Instead, you grabbed your phone, dialed his number, and left the call open as you headed for the shower.

Logically, calling him and abandoning the phone made no sense, but logic had abandoned you. All that remained was heat and need.

With each step toward the shower, you felt yourself growing wetter, the friction of your thighs rubbing together made your breathing heavy and uneven.

A phone call distracted him enough to focus on something other than his intense desire for you. Then he realized who was calling.

"I'm still cleaning," Bucky tried to speak normally, too embarrassed to mention what he was feeling.

There was no answer, just the sound of running water. He figured you might be showering and had called by mistake—until he heard your voice.

"B-Bucky," it was soft and distant, but it was enough to make him abandon the laboratory like a man possessed. You had called his name in a way that would be etched in his memory forever. The phone call was forgotten by the time he reached your bedroom.

He should have knocked or announced himself as he entered your room, the bathroom door wide open. But he couldn't. Following your voice into the bathroom, the sight of you nearly brought him to his knees.

You were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, fingers moving desperately against your clit. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Your eyes were closed—Bucky wasn't sure if you'd heard him enter—but then you called his name again. A broken moan that he longed to hear from closer.

Bucky kicked off his shoes before stepping into the shower, still fully clothed—not that he cared about that now.

It was only then that you realized he had entered the room. In any other circumstance, you might have covered yourself or shied away—especially from him—but as he entered the shower, his clothes clinging to his body, your need for him only deepened.

Your fingers moved faster against your clit, craving as much friction as possible. Your eyes locked on the man before you. He looked different—like a predator who had finally cornered prey he'd been hunting for ages. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. You could see him struggling for control, but control wasn't what you wanted. Not now.

"Bucky," you called louder this time, reaching for him with your free hand and pulling him closer. His chest pressed against your nipples as you guided his hand to replace your fingers. You needed him; he was the only thing that would satisfy you. "P-please."

Something broke inside Bucky when he felt your body against his. The last thread of his self-control snapped. He couldn't take it anymore—his cock throbbing painfully, desperate to be freed.

"Are you sure?" he asked while sliding his fingers through your slick folds, gliding easily through your wetness. "Fuck—you're so wet." Bucky wanted to wait for your answer, but his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. "Yes—yes, please, Bucky. I want you." You begged, grinding your hips against his hand, urging him to touch you more. The way his fingers moved against your skin sent shivers down your spine. "Kiss me."

Everything about you was driving Bucky closer to the edge, and when you finally said yes and asked him to kiss you, he couldn't wait any longer.

He moved you so quickly it left you dizzy. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you in one swift motion. Your legs encircled his waist, arms clinging to his shoulders before moving around his neck. Before you could think or speak, he kissed you. His mouth opened yours, his tongue seeking entry. He wanted to taste you, to feel all of you.

You moaned against his lips, returning his kiss with equal fervor. The shower surrounding you was forgotten as he consumed your senses. Your hips ground against him, seeking friction. Instinctively, you pressed against his hardness, whimpering at the contact—even through his clothes.

That slight touch had Bucky seeing stars. The pressure of his water-soaked clothes against his skin was unbearable, and feeling you against him only made it worse. "Fuck, doll, you're driving me crazy."

"Fuck me, Bucky." You needed it and couldn't wait any longer. If he made you wait, you felt you might explode. One hand moved to his pants, trying to unbutton them while still grinding against him. You couldn't get enough.

Bucky lifted you higher for a moment to help, yanking his pants and underwear down in one quick motion. It was your first time seeing him like this—naked, or half-naked—and hard. For you. He was impressively large, making you wonder if he would fit, but you desperately wanted to try. He was hard and ready; you imagined that without the water cascading over you both, he would be glistening with pre-cum.

His grip on your waist was firm, but you still struggled against it, trying to lower your hips to feel him against you. "Sweetheart—" Bucky began, somehow finding words despite his foggy mind, "I'm trying to control myself. I don't want to hurt you, but all I want to do is pin you down and fuck you."

A whimper escaped your lips at his words. They made you burn hotter, your core clenching around nothing. Everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough.

"Bucky. Fuck me. Make me yours," was all you could say. Finally, something shifted in his eyes. His metal arm moved you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall as he lined himself up and thrust into you with one swift movement.

You cried out—but not from pain. He felt perfect inside you, even though you weren't used to his size. Your body welcomed him as if made for him alone.

"Bucky!" Your nails dug into his back as he began thrusting relentlessly. You could only try to match his rhythm. He was stronger, and his grip barely allowed you to move.

Nothing had ever felt so good. Every touch scorched your skin, every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you—and all you could do was take it. With his pace, you knew you wouldn't last long. "Fuck, you feel so good," he praised between moans and grunts. Tension built in your core as he continued driving into you. "Bucky, I'm going to—" Your words were cut off by the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Another cry tore from your throat at its intensity. Bucky didn't stop, your walls clenching around him as he rode out your orgasm until he finally released inside you. "Fuck—" he groaned, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he filled you, warming you from the inside out. You felt complete and blissful, yet something within you still craved more. Your hips moved against him again as you pulled back to look at his face, finding the same lingering need in his expression.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered, leaning to kiss you—softly this time. The desperation remained but was now controlled. "Technically, it was a mix of chemicals that—" You giggled as he kissed you again, cutting off your explanation of what you were sure was happening to both of you.

He reached to turn off the shower and kicked his wet clothes aside before carrying you to the bedroom, still inside you. The small movements as he walked were enough to keep him hard. He knew he would need more than one round to satisfy the feelings overtaking him.

When he reached the bed, he withdrew briefly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. You could feel his release dripping from you, making your cheeks flush. Bucky didn't give you much time to think before he was above you again, sinking back inside. "So good. You take me so well." With one hand, he removed his soaked—now nearly transparent—white shirt. You reached for his dog tags, pulling him closer. "I'm yours. Make me yours," you begged, your mind clouded by sensation and the thrill of finally kissing him, being with him. You loved him.

"My needy girl," he murmured against your mouth, though he was just as desperate—not that he needed to admit it. He simply enjoyed knowing how much you wanted him.

Each moment you shared that night felt better than the last. Even as the chemical effects began to fade, neither of you could get enough. It was as if your bodies were making up for all those months of silent longing.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but now you lay wrapped in Bucky's arms, eyes closed, head resting on his chest. You had never felt as content as you did in that moment, your heart full and cherished.

"Who would've thought that all I needed to get you to want me was a bunch of chemicals exploding in my lab," you joked, not bothering to look up. You were too comfortable to move. "Darling, I've wanted you for so long before this. The chemicals only gave me the courage to risk everything to have you," he replied, and you knew he wasn't joking.

"God, I love chemistry, and you."

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @skullfacedlady @fanaticsnail @mermaniaa @decaffeinatedscreaming

“You are not gonna find me!” Giggles spilled out, slipping through the playground found on a late-night walk with Deucalion. He was leaning against a tree, offering you time to hide—or run as far as you could— even if half of the time that didn’t change the fact that he could find you in a heartbeat.

“I like the challenge, dear, “ he replied, loud enough for you to hear, a hint of his smug, teaseful tone showing in his words. He was confident about his skills—eyesight or not—he had promised once that he would always find you. Or he would die trying. A dramatic thought for such a playful night, but Deucalion stayed vigilant. Danger was around the corner everywhere they went.

It was dark enough that you had to focus on your surroundings more than usual. The lack of light around you forced you to tread carefully, avoiding unseen branches or benches.

To outsiders, two adults playing hide and seek might seem odd, but you never cared about others’ opinions. What mattered most to you was that Deucalion had always encouraged you and played along with anything you wanted, even if it was the last thing he could’ve seen himself doing.

Behind the playfulness that you shared with him was something else, something that he understood without needing to hear about. He knew that growing up, you never had chances like this to enjoy the day, to play, to do things without overthinking them. You had been locked away, forced to face reality far too young. If playing hide and seek, or any other games you could think of, could bring back some sort of happiness for you, he would do it.

The Big Bad Demon Wolf, the one who was feared by most, but never by you. He had never expected to meet someone like you— someone who shifted his plans and made him want something other than power. He had never expected to fall in love with you. Yet, he had.

His eyes were closed ,and the cane he used to seem normal around people was left at home. When it was dark you knew that no one would see you, and if they did, he could always grab your arm and pretend as if you were guiding him and not the other way around.

Not having his eyesight was something that had made him stronger. Something that had made him even more aware of his surroundings. You joked sometimes and told him that he must have eyes on his forehead or something, because even without his red—glowing alpha eyes, he never stumbled.

It was one of the things you found fascinating about him. That, and everything else he had done and become for you.

You wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t someone who could kill others without hesitation anymore, but you could see behind his actions and reasoning now. And you were safe with him. You were so sure about that.

“Ready, my love?” he asked, voice teasing. You bit back a giggle, staying silent behind your tree, heart racing with anticipation. It was one of his tricks that you had once fallen for. He could recognize where your voice had come from and found you so fast, but not this time, you stayed quiet and hidden behind the tree you had chosen, trying to control your rapid heartbeat.

Even in the safetiness of your relationship your heart jumped at the feeling of being chased. It wasn’t a bad thing now. Not with Deucalion. It was thrilling.

He walked slowly around the playground, listening to the sound of his own footsteps to make sure he was stepping on steady ground, using the tip of his shoe to find any surface that could be in his way. Then he heard it—the familiar sound of your heart, a rhythm he’d nearly memorized.

Deucalion moved slowly, his footsteps soft on steady ground, senses sharp. ‘We should have discussed my prize for winning,’ he teased, voice carrying a playful edge. “Although, considering I win every time, I think we should establish a prize that applies to any game.”

He’s too cocky, you thought, though his confidence was justified—he always won.

“Maybe a kiss?” He kept going, his footsteps closer to you now, which made you try to keep your breathing as quiet as possible. “No, I would kiss you either way, you know I can’t resist you, angel.” Now, that was what made you giggle. You quickly covered your mouth to stop the sound from being too loud, but it hadn’t mattered. A second later, Deucalion was standing right next to you, leaning against the tree that had been your hiding spot.

“That’s my prize. Hearing your laugh. Most beautiful sound.”

Your face felt warm at the compliment, and you reached for his hand before moving closer to kiss his cheek. “That’s not fair, you made me laugh on purpose, that can’t count as a win,” you said with a pout, even if you were not mad about it. “Oh, it can’t? Then maybe we have to try again,” He smirked and with a hand he guided your face closer to kiss your lips for a sweet kiss, his thumb caressing your cheek. “And this time you’ll choose my prize.”

“What if it’s ice cream and a hug?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Then I’d say it is the perfect prize. Having you with me is,” he murmured, his embrace already promising it.

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @skullfacedlady @decaffeinatedscreaming

Living in two different apartments had been fine for a while, especially when you and JJ were just getting to know each other, but now? That just seemed like the worst idea.

The more you got to know each other, the more you both wanted to share each other's space. It was already hard enough when you both had to be away from each other due to JJ's unpredictable schedule, so you didn't want to miss any chance you could get to be with her when she was actually there.

You loved being able to wake up and see her laying next to you, her arms always close enough to touch you, as if she wanted to know—even in her sleep—that you were there and you were safe. It was one of the reasons you had fallen in love with her.

The next step had been obvious, moving in together so you didn't have to worry about missing each other.

It should've been a simple task, one of you taking their stuff and moving it to the other's apartment, but you both decided to make it complicated.

You chose a new apartment, symbolizing a fresh start for your relationship, of your life together. You had chosen the perfect place, it wasn't huge, but it was ideal for the both of you.

One thing made the move exhausting: hauling all the furniture into your new place. Choosing what to keep and where to put it—and especially—lifting all the heavy things you both had.

JJ insisted the move would be simple. She took two vacation days to pack and decide with you what to keep or sell. Over two days, one in each apartment, you sipped wine, laughing and reminiscing over shared items and moments, your bond growing stronger.

There weren't any fights or issues over the items. You knew that things were replaceable. It was the idea of having a place together that would make it all worth it. And even then, you could always buy things together that were perfect for the new space.

The two days had gone by way faster than you had expected, which meant that you were going to finish all the packing on your own—or so you thought. Instead, JJ surprised you by asking Hotch for more days so you could finish moving into the new apartment.

Hotch was too nice, you thought, he agreed and said that the only condition was that he needed to be invited over for dinner once the place was done. It was an easy ask, especially since you enjoyed the company of JJ's work friends and bosses.

Her presence moved things along fast, and soon enough you had the truck ready and full of your things to drive them to your new home. You had needed to ask for help to lift the heavier things, such as the fridge, but the rest had been a job between you and your girlfriend. It was nice, even if it was exhausting.

The different rooms at the new apartment were slowly getting full of your things. Pictures, paintings, little tokens that you had for decoration.

The place wasn't empty anymore, and it felt nice. To be able to walk inside a place that you knew wasn't just yours, that it was for you and your girlfriend to share and live in. It made your heart flutter.

The last room to be done was your bedroom. JJ had mentioned that it was the one place she didn't want random people walking in and moving your things. She wanted it to be something that was yours alone— and you couldn't say no to those words.

Although, you were regretting that now.

“This is not fair. You're stronger,” you grunted as you tried to push inside the room a big drawer.

JJ was inside the room finishing the bed. She had taken care of it with ease, carrying your mattress as if it weighed just a little.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't find that hot. The way her shirt got tight around her arms when she flexed her muscles to lift things, or the way she did things effortlessly and always willing to help you when you struggled with something too heavy. She was hot.

Your face was flushed, not only because of the heat and sweat from the move, but because you felt your cheeks warm every time you saw her, even now after dating for so long.

Suddenly the drawer was moving faster and you felt it lighter. Without looking to the other side you knew that it was her helping you to place it in the right spot.

“See, it wasn't too bad,” Jennifer said as she walked over to you once you were done with that and leaned to give you a quick kiss.

“Because you helped me,” you replied with a small smile, face warming all over again, eyes full of love as you kept talking, “my strong girl.”

You grabbed her hand to keep her close for a second and pulled her in to kiss her one more time. “Not complaining, though, you look so hot when you lift things.” You couldn’t help admitting it, and JJ’s laugh suggested she knew you’d been admiring her. Dammed profilers.

“You mean the way you stop and stare every time I walk into the room with anything on my hands?” She asked with a smirk, lifting her brow. “I saw you.”

“You never miss anything, huh,” you giggled, hand moving to cover your face, faking embarrassment.

“Of course not, baby. I pay attention,” her smile and words made your heart feel warm and full of love. She cared about you and was never afraid of telling you that she did.

“I love you,” you whispered, foreheads pressed together. JJ’s soft laugh warmed you. “I love you too,” she murmured, lingering in the moment before she said, “we're not going to finish the room if we keep going like this.”

You pouted in response, even if you knew that she was right. You needed a room to sleep in that night. “You're right, but you're lifting the last few things while I stare.” Jennifer rolled her eyes with a laugh and nodded. “You got it baby.”

“Our own bedroom. This is the perfect place for us.” You were excited, but most of all, you were happy and full of love at that moment. And you hoped that it didn't change.

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @mermaniaa @skullfacedlady @decaffeinatedscreaming

The Pack was sitting close together, listening to Derek speak as he mentioned that there were some rumors about a new pack arriving in Beacon Hills— a dangerous pack. They had many questions, wanting to know who they were and what they wanted, but no one knew the answers to all those questions. At the end of the day, these were supposed to be just rumors, but in that town, even the rumors ended up being true. They had to be ready for anything. You looked at everyone, the tension was palpable in the air as the thoughts of having to prepare for a new fight, for a new unknown enemy, filled their heads. You hadn’t been there for the first “Big Bads”, as they called them, all you knew was what Derek had mentioned when you asked about the pack. You had your fights and struggles in the past, but they felt different. You had never been in a pack that supported you through them or with people as close as the rest were. It felt lonely sometimes, as if you didn’t exactly fit with the rest. It wasn’t on purpose— you were just older than them. The one closest in age to you was Derek, but he wasn’t the most talkative person. 

Seeing the way they sat together, close enough that it made you think they didn’t believe in personal space, made your heart ache. It made you want to have that connection with someone. You had your favorites in the pack; you couldn’t hide that. There was Isaac, who you could see had gone through so much and was still trying to have a normal teenage life— even as a werewolf—and Erica, who showed up as rough and mean, but was always clinging to Boyd and wanting to spend time with her friends. They were nice to you, they all were, but those two had been the ones that included you the most, the ones that kept you updated in all the love drama that Scott went through, and even joked with you about how you would be the perfect match for Derek. Which always made you laugh and remind them that just because you were old enough, it didn’t mean that you had to date him. 

The truth was, it had crossed your mind before. It was impossible not to even consider it for a moment. He was Derek Hale, and he was handsome and smart. But he had never shown any interest in you, at least not in that aspect, so you had to tell yourself not to get your hopes up. You weren't there to find a mate; you were there to have a pack to confide in. 

Derek was the one who had found you. You had recently been turned into a werewolf, lost and hurt. You had escaped from a group of people, one of whom kept mentioning how he was going to wait for you to turn so he could kill you. “To be stronger”, he had said, or that's what you believed you had heard between your sobs and screams of pain. The bite had been painful, and it had taken too long to heal. For a while, you were convinced you were dying, as the skin the wound was turning black. Even the man who had turned you thought that you weren’t going to survive, and that had been the thing that saved you. They left you alone and scared, but they left you, and you healed. You weren’t sure why, but you were glad you did. 

It was then that Derek found you. He was running deep into the forest, tracking any scent that could give away other wolves around his town, trying to catch the pack that was rumoured to exist before they got to them. He wasn’t sure how far he had gone that day, but when he smelled blood and saw a body lying on the ground, he had been even more alert. 

The bite was still visible when he found you; the wound looked black, and you were passed out, barely moving at all. The images of Paige danced through his brain as he checked for your pulse. Black was never a good sign, but your pulse seemed strong, and the wound seemed to be healing under the dry black blood. 

He had carried you to the loft that night, cleaned your wounds, and left you to rest in his bed. Sometimes he would come in to check if you were still breathing, even if realistically he could hear your heartbeat from outside the room, but he couldn’t shake away the fear of seeing someone die from the bite again. It didn’t matter that you were just a stranger to him. 

That night you slept the whole night, no fevers and no cold. It wasn’t until you woke up that you realized that you weren’t in the woods anymore. You were lying in a comfortable bed in an unknown place. Had the man come back for you? You checked your wound, and it was clean, visibly better than before. And you weren’t shaking from pain anymore. You felt better—still weak—but better. 

That was the day you met Derek. You were trying to sneak out of the room to find a way to escape from the man who had bitten you, when you found a completely different person standing in the kitchen and making food that smelled so good to you at that moment. 

Knowing that the man who bit you wasn’t there relaxed you a little, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t scared or worried. “Where am I?” Your voice sounded rough after all the crying and screaming you had done in the last few days. Your eyes scanned the room for anyone else, and to look for the door, ready to run. “My house. Don’t try running, you’re still not fully healed.” The man said, looking at you as if he knew what you were thinking of. “That didn’t answer my question. Who are you, where am I, why am I here?” You had a million things you wanted to know, and you wanted to run before someone else found you. “Is the man with you?”

Derek wasn’t the best at explaining things to people or calming them down when things were stressful, but he was trying his best to look relaxed and not startle you. He placed some pancakes on a plate, with eggs and bacon, and placed them on the countertop in front of you, as an offering. “My name is Derek. I found you in the woods and brought you here to take care of your wounds.” He served you a glass of orange juice as you tried to process what he was saying and decide if you trusted him enough to eat the food he was offering. You were hungry, so you decided to trust him enough to eat the food he was offering.. 

“Please eat. I’m not sure how long you’ve been without food, but your stomach was growling a lot earlier,” he said, and you frowned. He was listening to your stomach? Had he been in the room with you? “What man?” He asked before you could even say anything else, and that made your focus shift for a moment. “The crazy man who bit me. He… his teeth were huge, and the pain was so bad. Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? This wound can get infected—” You looked down at your arm, now able to see that not only had it been cleaned, but it was barely there anymore. You didn’t understand. Did you make it up? Did he drug you? You wanted to run away again, your fears rushing back to the surface once again. Everything felt like too much at that moment. You took a few steps back before rushing to the door, but before you could even get to it, the guy— Derek—was standing in front of you. “What—”

“Don’t run away. I am not going to hurt you, but if I don’t know who did this to you, then someone might. I will explain everything. Please.” He looked at you with soft eyes, and you got lost in his eyes for a moment. All you could do was nod, and slowly you walked back to the kitchen and sat down in front of your food. 

Derek wasn’t the best at explaining that werewolves were real, and that now you were one too. You thought he was just trying to scare you until he had shifted in front of you— you wanted to run away then— the flashbacks of the man that hurt you coming back to you as you saw his fangs and the way his face shifted. But still, with Derek, it didn’t feel as scary. 

“I’m dreaming, right? Or, I died and my brain is trapped in this weird reality—” Derek’s hand had reached for yours as you started rambling once again. “You are not dreaming nor dead. This is a lot to process. But I’m here to help you through the changes that you will experience.”

A few days ago, you had been living a normal— or as normal as could be—and now you were turning into a werewolf. It seemed incredible, or like a joke, but it was real. 

Derek had mentioned that you probably needed to stay there until your first full moon, because that was going to be the hardest one. And in reality, you were in no rush to go back to your old life. Especially since it felt now dangerous. Beacon Hills wasn’t that close to where you lived before, and you realized you didn’t have clean clothes, money, or any belongings of yours. And, most importantly, you had no place to stay. 

Which is how you ended up living in Derek’s house, taking his room since he insisted you needed to heal and rest more than him, and wearing his clothes. They were a little too big on you, but comfortable. You met the pack a day after, and the way they had reacted to your presence there made you believe that they thought you were just someone whom Derek had over… as in dating. The thought made you blush, but Derek had quickly explained what had happened. 

The next day, Isaac and Erica appeared at Derek’s place to steal his card and take you shopping for some clothes that fit you way better. 

You felt bad for taking so much of Derek, but there was another part of you that liked how he seemed to worry or care. Even if it didn’t mean the same for him as it did for you. 

Or so you thought. 

You had gotten used to spending time with Derek. You two had a routine. Waking up to breakfast together, most of the time in silence since none of you was a morning person, and then spending some of the day reading and the rest “training” to control your shift and control the urges that came with being a werewolf. It wasn’t easy. At all. 

A lot of the time, you ended up fighting with Derek out of frustration and locking yourself in your room, or, well, his room. You didn’t mean to get angry, but it seemed that being a werewolf had made you angrier than ever before.

Sometimes it made you angry when Derek explained that everything you felt was normal. You hadn’t signed up for any of that. And now you were suffering the consequences. 

After a while, it became easier, and you saw the kids in the pack and thought about how much more they were probably struggling with all the teenage hormones and problems at school. You were glad that time was over for you. And another part of you wished that they had been your group at school, to have some good friends to trust and who supported you. 

After everyone left Derek’s place, worried and alert about anything that could tell them about the pack that was coming for their town, you stayed sitting in the same spot you had been all meeting. Quiet, your mind running from one thought to another. 

You didn’t think that Derek would notice, but you felt him sitting right next to you before he said, “What’s wrong?” 

You looked at him, slightly confused about why he was asking. “I’m okay, just thinking”, you said with a small shrug of your arms. “No, you’re not. You were distracted all meeting, and you looked sad.” You wanted to claim you had been paying attention to everything, but you hadn’t. You knew what the meeting was about because Derek mentioned it to you beforehand— perks of living in the same place. What surprised you the most was the mention of you being sad. You thought you were good at hiding those feelings. “What’s wrong?” he asked again. 

You couldn’t lie this time, and you prepared yourself to be embarrassed about whatever was going to come out of your mouth at that moment. “It’s stupid… I just feel alone. I don’t think I fit in the pack. They all study together, spend the day together, and are the same age. I’m the outsider. The new one here. I’m alone.”

Derek heard your words and pretended that the fact that you hadn’t even considered him in the equation hurt him, because this wasn’t about him. It was about you. He looked at you and saw a small tear fall down your cheek, which he reached to wipe away. “There’s one thing you’re missing there.” You frowned in confusion again, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks from Derek’s touch. “Me.” He added, not waiting for you to say anything. “I’m here, with you. I never planned on being Alpha, or having a pack full of teenagers. You… you are the first bit of normalcy that has appeared in my life since everything changed. Maybe in an unconventional way, or a way that you didn’t want. But you appeared in my life one day, and you made me feel less alone.”

This was the most Derek had spoken, at least about his feelings, with you or anyone. You always tried to make him talk to you, but the man was hard to crack open. 

“You are not alone. Not as long as I’m here with you.” Those were the last words he said to you, not wanting to overwhelm you with more of his feelings. What he didn’t know was that all you wanted to do now was hear him talk about how he felt about you. You couldn’t find the right words then, so you did what your whole body told you to. You leaned closer to him and pressed your lips to his. A soft kiss that told him how much his words—and he—meant to you. Because during all that time together, you had fallen in love with Derek Hale. And the way that he kissed you back made you believe that maybe he had fallen for you, too. Maybe you weren’t alone, after all. 

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @decaffeinatedscreaming @skullfacedlady @mermaniaa

Dinner had felt weird without your presence there. Robin had noticed immediately that you hadn’t left the room when Sanji called out to eat. She had asked Sanji if you had told him anything about it, but he had said no after a long list of compliments he had given to her. No one else seemed to comment on it, mainly because the guys were too busy eating, and Nami was focused on the map she was updating after they visited the last island. Whenever they left a place, her free times would continuously consumed by her drawings as if nothing else mattered.

A small frown on Robin's forehead accompanied her throughout dinner, until she was done and decided she was going to find go see you.

Before Robin had left the kitchen, Sanji had mentioned that your plate was ready if she wanted to bring you the food, just in case you were hungry. And with a thank you and a few extra hands that she made appear to grab the plates and your drink, Robin left the kitchen and headed for the bedroom chambers.

Across the bed, the book you’d pushed away in frustration seemed to mock your inability to understand its codes.It wasn’t that you couldn’t read, you absolutely could, it was just that the book was written in codes.

Ones that only Robin was able to understand, but you had been practicing, studying the books and notebooks she shared with you— all because you wanted to impress her.

And now, you felt like a failure.

Your head dropped against the pillow, followed with a frustrated sigh, a hand covering your face as if that could hide you from the world. You were trying so hard, even if you knew that Robin would tell you that you didn't need to do that, but it's something that you had set yourself up for. And you were going to succeed one way or another.

After a moment of self-pity, you had sat down once again with the book opened and resting on top of your legs, decided to keep going. You had been so focused that you never heard Sanji calling out for dinner or when Robin opened the door to look for you.

Robin had figured out where you were without having to search all over the ship. She knew you better than anyone else, enough to know that you rarely skipped meals. It was one of your favorite parts of the day, not for the food itself, but for the moment in which everyone was gathered together, without fighting or complaining about anything, just enjoying the company of each other— unless something had happened, then there was definitely drama.

Only two reasons you would skip a meal for were: you had fallen asleep, or you didn't feel well. She certainly hoped it wasn't the second one. She hated seeing you sick.

But what Robin hadn’t considered in her equations was that you skipped a meal because of a book—correction, because of her book.

When she opened the door to your bedroom, she saw you sitting on her bed, staring at the page of the book as if it had personally offended you.

Robin's first thought was that you looked adorable. The rest of her thoughts were questions about what you were doing. You hadn’t seemed to notice her as she walked in— too lost in the book to look up.

Robin closed the door, her extra hands setting the plate down on the nightstand next to you. Her throat-clearing startled you, making you jolt and hit your head on the bunk. “Ow,” you said, a hand moving to gently rub the spot you hit and the other quickly pushed the book behind you to hide it.

“Oh, baby, I didn't mean to scare you,” Robin's soft voice was followed by a soft chuckle. She wasn't laughing at you getting hurt, just at the way you had reacted when you saw her. As if you could hide something from her. “You missed dinner, I was worried.”

Your hand was still on your head, massaging the spot softly when it was suddenly replaced by a hand that appeared next to you to continue with the action. You knew how Robin's devil fruit worked, but every time she used it, especially with you, you were always in awe.

“I missed dinner?” You asked, looking up at her and then at the plate that rested in the nightstand next to you. “I didn't hear Sanji calling, thank you, flower,” you called her by one of your favorite nicknames for her. Your flower girl.

Robin smiled at you softly, walking closer to you so she could take a seat on the bed with you. “You don't need to thank me, silly, you need food,” her words were followed by her leaning to kiss your cheek, and then her hand reached for the book behind you. “Now, what do we have here?” Her curious tone was mixed with a hint of playfulness, knowing exactly what the book was.

“I—” you started, trying to find a way to explain what you were doing with it, but no excuse was good enough. You had to tell the truth, “I was… trying to understand it. So I could surprise you.”

Robin had expected anything, except that. “Surprise me?” She looked at you with bright and curious eyes, “why do you want to surprise me?”

Your face warmed up as you felt the blush rushing from your neck to your cheeks, “because you are so smart. You are a scholar, the one that can read mystery languages, understand clues that no one else sees. Because I want to be half as good as you are, and worthy of you.” The last part made you look away, embarrassed of admitting it, but Robin didn't accept that, her hand was quickly cupping your cheek and making you turn your head again to look at her.

“My darling, you don't need any of those things to surprise me. I love you for how you are and the things you do. You don't need to do anything else, not for me” Her face moved closer and she pressed your foreheads together, Robin needed you to know you meant every word.

“But I would like to, I want to share more things with you,” you whispered, brushing your nose against hers. It was easier to admit now that it was all out in the open. In the safety of your shared bedroom, only the two of you.

“Then, let me teach you, my little scholar,” Robin smiled widely before she tipped her face to the side to steal a kiss from you. You were quick to kiss her back, never getting enough of her. Of her kisses and patience she had for you. “For the record, I said I'd teach you the language, not how to kiss,” Robin joked as you two pulled away, and giggled when you jokingly pushed her shoulder.

“For the record, I said I'd teach you the language, not how to kiss,” Robin joked as you two pulled away, and giggled when you jokingly pushed her shoulder.

“Maybe you can teach me both things, flower.”

“That sounds like a better plan, darling,” she replied.

That night, after you had finished your meal, Robin and you sat on her bed while she read the book for you. She explained what the symbols around it meant, what she had learned from other books, and even shared things that didn't really belong to that book, but that she found interesting.

You listened to her for hours—not missing any details— as if it was the most beautiful sound that you could hear.

And for you, it was.

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @mermaniaa @skullfacedlady @decaffeinatedscreaming

“Kneel for me,” was all you needed to say before Nanami was slowly getting down on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours, with anticipation written all over his face.

For anyone else, Nanami was a strong man, stuck in his ways, focused, and disciplined. He had techniques that could destroy curses in the blink of an eye; he was someone that people looked up to. But behind closed doors, you could see the other side of him. The side that he only showed you. All that power was gone whenever he saw you, and he was under your spell.

He had the strength to fight you—you weren’t nearly as powerful as him yet—but he didn’t try. Especially not after getting home from work and needing to forget all about it. You were the best at that. His focus was on you and you only; he was at your mercy. And you loved every second of it. Knowing that one of the strongest sorcerers was willing to kneel for you, let you do whatever you wanted to him, that was the power you craved the most.

You leaned down to grab his chin and give him a quick kiss, “good boy,” you whispered after, pulling back to look at him and the way his body moved forward—a signal that he wanted more.

“While you were out, I bought something—” you started moving around the room, pulling out of a bag the item you had been waiting to use on him all day long. Red rope, “do not damage it with your energy. I like the color.” You warned him, raised a brow as he looked at you and the rope with excitement. You could see the bulge growing inside his underwear just from the thought of what might happen, and that brought you even more satisfaction. “I won’t, promise.” His voice wasn’t as strong or demanding as usual. It was the tone he reserved only for these moments. Compliant. Soft.

His shirt was already off, nothing but his underwear remaining to cover him, while you were still fully clothed. “Hands behind your back—” he obeyed immediately, and you moved accordingly, tying his hands behind him, ensuring the hold was strong but not too tight to hurt—“you look so pretty like this. Just for me.” You walked around him like a cat stalking its prey.

“Ple… please,” he said, looking at you and wiggling in his place. “Please, what?” you asked in response, “use your words, baby.” “I need you, please.” He said in almost a whimper. Discipline and control vanished, surrendered entirely to you.

You undressed in front of him, taking your time with each item so the man before you could enjoy the view, tension building between you two. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, legs wide open for him to see you. “Go on then, suck.” Nanami didn’t waste any time as he moved closer, still on his knees, until he was positioned between your thighs. Slowly, he started kissing your inner thighs as if he was worshipping every inch of skin he could touch. “Kento,” you breathed, every kiss lighting your skin on fire. The praise encouraged him to keep going, each kiss higher, closer to where you needed him most. You were desperate for more by the time he got there, his careful licks and sucks targeting all the spots he knew would drive you crazy. Your eyes threatened to close at the feeling, but you forced them open to look at the man between your legs, desperately taking anything you’d give him, arms straining from his impulse to move them and touch you. It was a beautiful sight.

Your hand went to his hair, which you pulled on to get him to continue. Tightness was building inside your stomach with every one of Nanami’s moves. “That’s my good boy,” you said with a moan, a compliment that made him whimper. He undeniably loved the praise and wanted to make sure that he was worthy of it.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to wash over you, accompanied by a loud moan and praises for the man who made sure you felt that good. “That’s it, my baby,” your voice cracked as you tried to breathe steady, but you never missed an opportunity to praise him.

Nanami didn’t move, resting his head on your thigh as he waited for you, patiently, kissing the skin softly and not saying a word. This was all on you, no matter how much he needed to be touched or to touch you.

Your hand moved against his hair, caressing him with soft touches while you regained your composure and grabbed his chin to pull him up for a kiss. A whine escaped his mouth as you kissed him, showing you how much he wanted you, and you responded by deepening the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hands moved around Nanami’s waist to undo the restraints you’d placed earlier, freeing him to touch you. And still, he didn’t do anything until you gave him the order.

“Fuck me, baby, you earned it.” You pulled back just enough to say that, and without a moment of hesitation, his hands were pulling his precum-stained underwear down and moving to lie on top of you. Your eyes remained glued to his as your hand travelled down to his cock, stroking it a few times just to hear the sounds he made for you. He felt like he was losing his mind, and he loved every second of it. “Please,” he begged, not knowing what he was begging for, but you did. You guided his cock to your hole. Nanami’s mouth on you had left you ready and wanting for more. “Go, baby, I’m all yours.” He didn’t need to hear more before he was sinking himself inside you.

Your night didn’t end there; you needed him just as much as he needed you. You both complemented each other well in that aspect—in any aspect.

“I love you,” he whispered before you both closed your eyes to sleep. Cuddles and soft kisses had followed the intense moments, as well as helping him clean himself and making sure you both got a snack. And now both of you were content and sleepy.

“I love you too, my boy.”

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @skullfacedlady @mermaniaa @decaffeinatedscreaming

That day was not going to go as expected. The weather forecast had predicted a heatwave the day before, and everyone had prepared for it. Lucy knew what to expect after enduring a heatwave and the chaos it unleashed on the streets—it was typical for Los Angeles. But she woke to dark skies and the sound of wind battering the windows. She turned to look at Tim, his bare back facing her, still fast asleep. Lucy wasn’t sure what time he’d gotten home. His hours at Metro varied daily, and she could only help by making his coffee extra strong. She’d helped him get that job, even if he had not known that at that time, but he enjoyed it, even if it was tough on him and their relationship. They barely spent time together now, except at work.

She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could and headed to the kitchen, where she found Tamara, still in pajamas, preparing breakfast. “Hey, you’re not going to school?” Lucy asked, puzzled, knowing Tamara rarely skipped classes. “We got an email half an hour ago. Classes are canceled due to the storm.” Tamara shrugged and continued making one of her favorite ClipTalk recipes: scrambled eggs and Pop Tarts. Three plates sat in front of her, a sign that she knew Tim was home and was cooking for him, too. Lucy thought it was a sweet gesture, but giggled at the memory of Tim waking up to that breakfast before. The first time Tamara had made it, he’d shot Lucy a pleading look, silently begging her to take his food away and spare him. Lucy had laughed and eaten her breakfast; she didn’t want to seem ungrateful for Tamara’s effort. Plus, it had been worth it to watch Tim struggle to finish his plate with a forced smile to avoid hurting Tamara’s feelings. He cared about her probably just as much as Lucy did, even if he did not say it out loud. That same day, Tim had made Lucy promise to tell Tamara never to make it again—a promise Lucy might have conveniently forgotten. Oops.

Her focus shifted from the food to the window when a loud crash—probably a branch slamming against it—snapped her back to the storm mention. It wasn’t good news, and it meant they’d need to head to work early. Who knew what chaos this weather would bring? “You’re not staying here. Get dressed, the station’s safer if this gets worse,” Lucy told Tamara. Before Tamara could protest that she’d be fine at home, Lucy cut her off. “I’m not taking no for an answer. This building isn’t safe in a storm. Get dressed. I’ll wake Tim.”

Tamara rolled her eyes, turned off the stove, and abandoned the food as she headed to her room. Before she entered, she glanced back, yelling with a grin, “Wake up, Tim! Your favorite breakfast is ready!” She laughed, clearly aware Tim hadn’t enjoyed it last time. Little menace. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh before heading to the bedroom, where she found Tim hiding his face under a pillow. “Not the Pop Tarts again,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric, but Lucy knew exactly what he meant.

A moment later, she climbed onto the bed, straddling Tim and resting her face against his chest briefly. She needed the closeness. His arms wrapped around her waist instantly, pulling her as close as possible. “You’re in luck. We might not have time for breakfast. There’s a storm coming, and it looks bad,” she said, lifting the pillow from his face. His brows furrowed as he registered the howling wind outside. “I take it back. I’d take Pop Tarts over a storm any day,” he sighed, pulling her in for a brief kiss, shorter than he’d have liked. “We need to get dressed. Last night I was following a lead, and storm or no storm, I need to make an arrest.”

He started to get up, forcing Lucy to slide off him. “Take me with you. I’ll be your partner today,” Lucy said, excited to learn who they were arresting. She moved quickly around the room, gathering her clothes while Tim did the same. She loved being part of special operations, even if it wasn’t as a detective. She was determined to use her skills without losing hope about her future..

That is, until Tim said, “No. I’m taking someone from Metro. You shouldn’t patrol today.” Lucy froze, caught off guard. She knew Tim was overprotective of her. He worried too much, and it had sparked arguments before when she mentioned jobs he deemed risky. Still, she wanted him to trust her and believe she could handle herself. “If the weather’s as bad as they say, people will need help. I’m patrolling today, with or without you.” Her tone was firm. She knew her job was to help people, and she’d do it no matter what.

“Do you know how many people get lost in a storm? Have you ever worked through one? No, you haven’t. I have. This isn’t the time to test yourself,” Tim said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to make his point. He just wanted Lucy to be safe.

“When will it be the time, then? Take me with you, and I’ll be safe,” she countered, frustration rising. It was too early for this argument—any time would be too early for it. 

“Lucy, it’s dangerous.”

“It’s as dangerous for you as it is for me—” She saw him open his mouth to argue and cut him off. “And don’t try to convince me otherwise. You’re the one who’s been shot before.” She turned her back, dressing quickly as she ignored Tim’s loud sighs.

After a long silence, Tim finally relented. “Fine. But if I say stay in the shop, you stay there.”

Lucy, finishing her tight hair bun, looked at Tim with a wide smile and stepped closer to kiss his cheek. “I’m not staying in any shop, and you can’t take it back now.”

It was going to be a long day, Tim thought. “Let’s get you through your first storm. Come on, Boot.” Lucy rolled her eyes at the old nickname but let it slide since she’d won their little argument. Lucy 1, Tim 0—at least for now.

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @decaffeinatedscreaming

Rosalind Dyer was dead, yet her shadow lingered for Lucy. Avoiding news at home, she relied on work updates, dreading the constant reminders. She didn’t even try to turn on the radio on her way to work, knowing it would be the same— her music playlist was her new companion. But even if she avoided all those things, she couldn’t avoid the way people looked at her at the station whenever someone mentioned the case, or the worst of all, the fact that she had been called to testify one last time about her crimes.

Even in death, she was still making Lucy think about her.

Lucy did her best not to let it get to her head. She had worked through the trauma; she was calm and collected even in the worst undercover missions, but the memories were there with her, in the tattoo she kept under her clothes, in the loud noises when she was alone and distracted. Some things could never be fully forgotten—and she had to learn to live with that. Lucy thought she hid her feelings well, believing no one noticed her struggle, but Tim saw through her.

Tim was the one person who could see through Lucy. The one who was silently looking for any sign that would let him know that she wasn’t okay. Especially after everything that happened. Every time he saw her tattoo, especially the first time she let him see her body, he had to ignore the feeling of guilt that sometimes followed him around. Even if it wasn’t his fault—something that he learned to accept—he wished he could take it away.

And now, he was aware of how Rosalind’s and Caleb’s presence was once again haunting Lucy like her own personal ghosts.

It was court day. Lucy made sure to tell everyone—especially Tim and Tamara—that they didn’t need to go and that she was okay, which they both knew was not true.

Tim asked Grey to give him the day free so he could go support Lucy, to which he agreed instantly. Lucy was loved by the people at the station—almost everyone, at least—and now that her relationship with Tim was out in the open he was free to show his concern to Grey. Even if he hated looking vulnerable, he did it for Lucy.

He had picked Tamara up from her new apartment, and after gathering Lucy’s favorite snacks and coffee, they headed to the courthouse. Tim and Tamara bonded over their love for Lucy, Tim quietly seeing her as a daughter, though he kept that thought unspoken.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. Tamara stole the control of the radio and started singing her favorite songs. Tim complained—jokingly— just to annoy her, but he didn’t stop her. It was just a small moment in which they could both focus on something other than not being there on time for Lucy.

When they arrived at the courthouse and headed to the courtroom where the hearing was held, they couldn’t find Lucy. Tim immediately worried, asking the rest of the officers present if they had seen her. Most of the answers were that she had mentioned going to the bathroom.

Tamara headed there while Tim asked more questions, the snacks forgotten on the bench she had selected to sit in. Tim couldn’t stay still, walking towards the bathroom to wait for Tamara to tell him to come in, but before he could even get there, a text from her saying that Lucy wasn’t in the bathroom arrived. He told Tamara to go back to the room and wait there just in case, and he ran to look at every possible place he could look for Lucy.

It took him longer than he had liked to find her, entering random courtrooms and interrupting—mistakenly—hearings, only to apologize and do that all over again with another judge. He was sure that some would recognize him and complain about his behavior later, but he didn’t care.

Courtrooms, bathrooms—nothing. Then, under the staircase, he saw Lucy, curled up, hugging her knees. His heart broke as he sank beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

Lucy flinched for a second, but when she realized that it was Tim, she physically relaxed, a quiet sob escaping her lips as he moved to sit on his lap and wrap herself around him. Her safe place.

“I told you that you didn’t need to come,” she said after a moment of quiet, voice soft and not reproaching him. She was glad that he was there. “You know I never follow instructions,” he smiled softly at her, not wanting to overwhelm her with his feelings and just letting that moment be about her.

“You are safe, you know? I am here. Tamara is here. We are here for you.” He added, fingers brushing against her hair to bring her some extra comfort. Lucy looked at him with confused eyes at the mention of Tamara. She was at college, not there. “Tamara?” She asked, part of her already thinking about telling her that skipping classes is not ideal.

“Yes, and we have coffee and those terrible gummies you love,” he wrinkled his nose to add to his disgusted expression, which made Lucy laugh, tension easing. “Oh, yes, so terrible that you never steal more than half of the bag when I bring them with me.” She rolled her eyes with a smile when Tim gave her his ‘I’ve been caught’ look. He was adorable.

“You didn’t have to do this. None of you.”

Her smile faded, her expression serious, wanting him to know she meant it. He was missing work, and Tamara was missing school. It was not worth it—in her mind.

“Yes, we did. For you. You are important, and you’ll never be alone when you have us.”

“I love you, Tim.” Her eyes were bright and full of tears. She was grateful for him, for his presence and worry. And for Tamara. Her kid. It was perfect—so perfect it made her forget her anxiety of before for a moment.

“Let’s get some snacks then, the sooner I do this, the sooner we can all go for a nice lunch.” Lucy stood up and reached for Tim’s hand to pull him up. She hugged him quickly, before she pulled him into the courtroom she was supposed to be almost half an hour ago.

The anxiety was still there when she finally got to testify, the memories flooding her mind once again, but now she had Tim and Tamara there, her anchors. If anything went wrong, she had them. She would be okay.

Tag list: @loganwritesprobably @fanaticsnail @skullfacedlady @mermaniaa @decaffeinatedscreaming