So Cute Especially The End, Im In Love

so cute😭😭 especially the end, i’m in love🫶🏻

hi! could i make a tim bradford x shy!reader request where shy!reader is pregnant, and she decides to visit tim at the station since she’s on maternity leave. but while she’s visiting tim at the station, all of a sudden her water breaks, so her and tim both start to panic and rush to the hospital. luckily, they make it in time to the hospital, and then eventually she gives birth to a baby girl.

hopefully that makes sense!🤍

It absolutely makes sense! Thanks for the shy!reader request, I love it so much!! This could probably act as a part 2 for the firefighter fic or any of the other pregnant!reader x Tim stories, too!

Warnings: pregnancy and labor, teasing, fluff!! 2.0k+ words

Is it My Turn to Panic?

Standing in the new nursery and organizing the freshly washed baby clothes, you’re happier than you anticipated. People warned you that the last month or two of your pregnancy could be agony, always hot or tired, or worse, on bed rest. But you feel good – great, even. You know that’s because of Tim, though. He’s been by your side for every mood swing, weird craving, and uncomfortable moment. Glancing down at your stomach when you feel a kick, you think your baby is probably thinking about Tim, too.

Once the clothes are folded, you put them in the dresser Tim assembled last night while you took a hot bath. He asked you not to do anything, to take it easy, but you get bored and lonely when he’s not home. As the pile on the dresser dwindles, you sit in the rocking chair by the window, enjoying being in your home, the one you share with your husband and soon your child.

When you pick up your phone, smiling at the picture of Tim on your lock screen, you get an idea.

“Want to visit your dad?” you whisper, rubbing your hand over your bump.

You laugh when you feel another kick as you rise out of the rocking chair. Your phone rings, and you pause, answering it quickly.

“Hello,” you greet.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

You’re glad Tim can’t see you because you duck your chin shyly even though he’s miles away.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I was putting the clothes away,” you answer softly.

Tim chuckles before reminding you, “I said I’d do that.”

“I got bored.”

“And lonely?”

You huff, a half-sigh, half-whine that makes Tim know he’s right.

“How are the contractions?”

“They’re okay.”

As you say it, another contraction hits, and you slide your hand under your bump as it passes.

“Yeah, they sound okay,” Tim says.

“’S just Braxton Hicks, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I know you will be. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You don’t say anything, walking into your bedroom to get shoes. Tim sighs before telling you he has to go.

“I love you,” you say, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you gather your things.

“I love you, both of you,” Tim replies. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The call ends, and you put your phone in your bag before locking the front door behind you. You miss Tim, and he’s right, you’re bored and lonely, so you’re going to visit him. He has been upset that he’s missing so much of your pregnancy and when the contractions started a few weeks ago. So, you’re doing it for him, too.

Once you’re in the car, another contraction seizes you, and you furrow your brows in pain. It’s the most intense you’ve had, but you soon forget about it. The doctor assured you everything was okay, and your baby was healthy at your last visit, that the contractions would continue until you went into labor and would just be an inconvenience.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford!” Wade yells. He turns to you and smiles, lowering his voice to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Big. Tired,” you answer quietly.

Wade laughs and pats your shoulder before stepping away while Tim hugs you. You wrap your arms around him, smiling against his chest as your baby kicks excitedly.

“Someone missed you,” you mumble.

“I know you did.”

You push your face further into Tim’s uniform before he eases your shoulders back gently.

“Been kicking like that all day?” he asks, smoothing his hand over your cheek.

Humming, you don’t notice Tim looking down at you.

“Soccer player,” he adds softly.

“Of course you’d pick a unisex sport.”

Tim smiles as you raise your head to look at him. “You’re the one who wanted to be surprised by the gender.”

“So did you!”

Tim drops his chin as he laughs, and you shake your head before backing away from him.

“No,” he grumbles, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his side. “Are you here for a while?”

“Sure,” you answer, moving your free hand to hold Tim’s wrist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. That’s why I keep calling.”

“Is this the new normal until we have a baby at home?”

“It is.”

Tim leads you into his office and closes the door, and when his hands land on your hips, you’re not sure if you like the privacy or wish you were back outside where he wouldn’t engage in such affection.

“Are you…” Tim begins, trailing off when you lean against the corner of his desk, gripping the edge in pain.

Tim’s hands hover beside you, watching you until you relax, slumping forward slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asks softly.

Nodding, you say, “They’re going to get worse the closer I get.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim murmurs, cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “Do you need anything?”

Your shoulders move with a silent chuckle, and Tim steps back, offering a hand. Every time you leave him to use the restroom, Tim acts like it’s some form of treachery, alternating between blaming you and the baby pushing on your bladder.

“I won’t miss this part,” he says as you enter the hallway.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim says your name, cracking the door open.

“Tim,” you reply, unsure what else to say.

The door squeaks as it opens, closing softly as Tim’s footsteps echo in the empty stalls. When you see his feet stop in front of the door you’re behind, you sigh.

“Let me in,” he demands.

Opening the door, you wipe your hands on your pants.

“What happened?”

Tim takes your face in his hands, searching your face and then your navel for any sign of a problem.

“My water just broke,” you whisper.

While you clench your jaw against another contraction, Tim’s eyes widen as he realizes what this means. He takes both of your hands, walking backward as he leads you out of the stall. Laying an arm around your shoulders, he takes you to his office to grab his wallet. You wait in the doorway, and Tim looks around frantically.

“Tim, calm down, handsome,” you say. “I’m not having this baby now, just take a breath.”

Shaking his head, Tim finds his wallet on the floor and squats to get it, arguing, “I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“I’m right behind you,” you whisper. “We’ll take turns. Can I panic now?”

Tim takes your purse, putting it over his shoulder as he leads you back toward the bullpen.

“Bradford,” Smitty says, “I have a question.”

“Ask someone else,” Bradford replies, his voice strained as you stop suddenly.

“Are you in labor?” Wade asks, rushing out of his office.

Tim nods, holding both of your shoulders as he stands before you.

“Do you need an ambulance?”

You shake your head, sniffing softly before nodding at Tim. Wade goes to the door, holding it open and yelling for people to get out of the way as Tim leads you to his truck.

“Can- I’m going to pick you up,” Tim says.

“No,” you argue.

“No for a real reason or because you’re still really shy?”

You don’t answer, and Tim chuckles as he lifts you into the passenger seat. You’re glad to see him calm down briefly, even at your expense.

“Tim!” Angela calls, walking out of the station. “Care for an escort?”

You shake your head vehemently, but Tim agrees, climbing into the driver’s seat as Angela pulls a shop out to drive before him.

“This is ridiculous, Tim,” you whine.

“Hey, you’re having my baby, we’re pulling out all the stops,” he replies.

When you look over at him, his jaw is tight, and his knuckles are white from his grip on the steering wheel. You want to say something but then decide not to distract him.

“Did you bring the hospital bag?” Tim asks suddenly.

“No,” you say quickly, breathing through a sudden contraction.

“Where is it? Still in the closet at home? We don’t have time to go get it, but-“

“Tim, Angela or someone can get it later,” you remind him. “You really need to calm down. We’re going to be fine.”

Tim nods, but his demeanor doesn’t change, even as he ignores your protest and carries you inside to meet the wheelchair.

“Contractions are nothing compared to that,” Angela muses, standing beside you while Tim negotiates to get you a private room.

“I thought he was going to need the hospital more than me.”

“It gets better after the first kid.”

“I can’t survive this again,” you mumble, spinning your wedding ring on your finger.

“I’m going to go get your stuff, so he doesn’t yell at me again,” Angela adds. “But I’ll be right back. Try not to let him get away with anything, okay?”

“Tim,” you say, and he immediately turns around, his shoulders dropping when he sees your smile.

“I’d apologize,” he begins, squatting to look in your eyes, “but I’m not really sorry.”

“Rarely are.”

“You’re getting a private room in just a few minutes.” Tim squeezes your knee as he says, “We got this. You said so, and you’re always right.”

You close your eyes, and Tim isn’t sure if it’s because of him or his baby.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, you’re alright,” Tim soothes, brushing your hair off your forehead. “You can do this.”

You shake your head, your throat tight, and tears brimming in your eyes.

“I thought I was the only one allowed to panic,” Tim teases.

“It’s my turn,” you whimper.

“Alright, Bradfords, it’s time to push,” your doctor says kindly.

Tim offers his hand, and you take it, gripping the bedrail on the other side. This is the first time in your relationship that you haven’t considered getting shy; the intensity of the contractions, the focus it takes to have a baby, and the number of people in your room distract you.

“One more,” the doctor urges. “You’re almost there.”

Tim lays his hand on your shoulder, uncaring that you’re stronger than you look, and his hand is bending at the pressure of your grip. The moment you relax, hearing the hospital room fill with healthy cries, you look over at him.

Tim is already smiling at you, his eyes glassy as he turns to watch the doctor. Several nurses help you move, adjusting the bed and prepping you quickly. When you take your baby into your arms, you whisper a hello, looking over at Tim as he stands beside you.

“It’s a girl, healthy and happy,” the doctor says quietly, smiling at you and Tim before exiting the room.

A nurse takes her away from you, promising to bring her right back. When you’re alone in the room, you look at Tim and are surprised to see tears streaming down his face.

“Tim?”

He smiles, laughing as he bends over the bed to hug you. “We have a daughter,” he says against your shoulder.

“Move,” you demand before sliding over in the bed and welcoming him to your side.

His arm wraps over your shoulder, and you kiss his hand before the nurse returns, giving Tim a turn to hold his daughter.

You somehow fall more in love with Tim when you see him: calloused hands holding a tiny baby against his chest as he smiles through the tears, whispering about how much he loves her.

“There’s an Angela Lopez here to see you,” someone says at the door.

Tim turns toward you, kissing your forehead and his new daughter’s before going out to get Angela. She’s quiet when she enters, pouting at the sight of you.

“She looks like Tim,” she coos, extending a finger as she pats your shoulder.

“Thank you for everything,” you tell her, moving one arm to give her half a hug.

“You really think she looks like me?” Tim asks, setting your bag in the corner.

“Absolutely,” you and Angela say together.

“I guess we’ll have to try again then,” Tim sighs.

“Why?” you inquire.

“I wanted a mini-you, someone else to make shy,” he answers with a smile.

His smile grows when you and your daughter tuck your chins, almost in sync.

“Or maybe not,” Angela says.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Tim adds, sitting beside you again as you look at your daughter together.

“What’s her name?” Angela asks, and you and Tim look at each other with wide eyes.

“I knew we were forgetting something.”

shhebenejeiwien so wholesome, i feel like you captured his behavior so well😭🤌🏻🤌🏻

pure fluff, i had 3rd year katsu in mind when writing this :3, kissing and katsuki in a suit <3

“i look fuckin’ stupid.”

you throw your head back and laugh, katsuki glares at you from the mirror he was just glaring at himself in.

“no you don’t, silly !”

“so why’re you lauging, you moron ?” he pouts, shoulders slouching as he stares at your figure in the glass. you lean against his shoulder and smile at his reflection. it squints at you.

“‘cus you’re a baby,” you cut him off before he can continue opening his big mouth, pressing a kiss to his cheek which makes any noise die off awkwardly in his throat “i think you look super handsome.” you whisper, leaning back against his shoulder just in time to see your words register in his brain, the tips of his ears and cheeks dusting into a cute pink. he scoffs and you giggle, shaking him by the shoulders a bit. he grumbles, pretending to nudge you off.

“hate this fuckin’ tie.” he decides to not respond to your compliment, trying to ignore his reaction to it all together. “can’t you just come with me ? you know the hag wouldn’t mind. pretty sure she loves you more than she does me.” you poke his side at the sarcastic remark, he growls at you. this is probably the fifth time he’s asked you to come with him to this business dinner his parents got invited to.

“don’t talk about your mom like that, katsuki. and i can’t just come with, this is like, a family thing right ? i’d feel way out of place” he scoffs hard at that. he wants to tell you that that’s total bull, his mom keeps making jokes about you’ll be part of the family soon anyway, but he’s too embarrassed to tell you that. “tch. whatever.” he ends up scoffing.

“stop making that face.” you chide playfully.

“i don’t like this shit.” he clenches his fists, shoving them in his pockets.

“i know you don’t baby, but you’ll get wrinkles.” you tease again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and they shake as you hear him scoff in response, but he cranes his neck to give you more space. the button up he’s wearing tightened by that god awful tie as he calls it make it a bit hard to, but you make due. peppering kisses all the way from his neck to his ear, he grunts.

“what if i just..” he trails off.

“just..?” you mumble against his skin.

“don’t. go.” you giggle at his childish complaints and pull away, to which he glares at you in the mirror like you’d betrayed him. you stick your tongue out at his reflexion. it glares harder.

“katsu !” the giggles bubbling out your throat make him throw his head back with a loud groan. “c’monn, look at you !”

he cranes his neck further away, out right refusing to look at his own reflection that has beet red cheeks now, too much praise for one katsuki. “cut it out.” he pushes at your hands wrapped around his middle.

“look at this face !” he growls when you grab onto his cheek and you wrestle with him to get him to just look at himself, but ever the stubborn little shit he is your boyfriend will not. “you’re so handsome ! it’d be a waste not to go. and you spent so much time on your hair !”

“cut being dramatic, took me like five minutes” his eyes look down towards his dress shoes, kicking at the them and voice dying down at your praise. you sigh “you want me to come with you that bad ?”

at that, he looks up at you, not at the mirror but at you. you’re faces are close. he looks hopeful for a second, before he’s hiding it again as his eyes lower to your lips, a habit. “‘m just sayin’..it’d be less unbearable if you were there.”

“awwww—”

“nevermind, fuckin’ take it back.” he groans, you let out a loud laugh. his lip trembles like he’s holding one of his own back. “fine then, suit yourself !” you giggle. he cracks a smile when you jokingly turn your nose up at him. swiftly turning towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. and something about his slightly gelled back hair and the suit and that smirk just does something to you. he really does look handsome (not like he doesn’t usually) you’re sure you have hearts in your eyes.

“thought you didn’t even wanna come.”

“i don’t, but i still wanted you to want me to !”

“that’s confusing as fuck.” he snorts, rolling his eyes again. then he leans in towards you and quickly presses his lips to your before immediately pulling back, he still wants to look at you before he has to go spend time with his parents and pretentious old fashion industry bastards. least you could do was allow him to keep this image in his mind to keep him company.

“i still want you to.” he admits to you, voice gruff from how low he speaks. it’s suddenly very quiet now. and wow, he looks very handsome in that suit.

“i know, handsome. but i can’t. ‘m sorry.” you reach a hand up, trying your best not to mess up his hair too bad even as he leans into you more. maybe he thinks if you mess up his hair enough it’ll foil his plans and make him late so his parents will decide to go without him, nice try.

he sighs, long and very dramatically loud. “ ‘s fine.”

“yeah ?”

“mm,” he grunts “ ‘s not, but i’ll be fine. you owe me though.” a smirk breaks onto his handsome face and it’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you’re glad he’s not actually upset.

just because, you decide to humor him “sure. what do i owe you ?” you catch a peek of his teeth when his smirk widens and he’s on you again, practically dipping you to kiss you. it takes you by surprise and you squeal loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying your best not to wrinkle up his blazer as his hold on you tightens.

he’s about to explore your mouth further when you hear a car honk, katsuki groans and cranes his neck to look out his window just in time to see his mother look up at him. she waves at you but points to him and back to the car, basically telling him to “get his ass over there, stat.” you’ve known katsuki’s mom long enough to decipher it and you feel like you can almost hear her speak. you send your grouchy boyfriend off with a final kiss to his cheek when his mom looks away.

“try to have fun tonight, yeah ?” he grunts in response. “and not to blow anything up ?”

he snickers lightly “no promises.” you share a laugh, and he grabs your hand “i’ll walk you out.” well it’s not like you could’ve just stayed at his house, but you know neither him nor his parents would actually mind that so you stay quiet.

“oh, but you never told me what i owe you..” he freezes, then blinks. a grin settles on his face and he leans in until he’s just a breath away. then he surprises you again by pressing his lips to yours, less roughly than a moment ago but still just as heart racing. he eyes your lips one last time when he looks away like he wants more, instead he smirks, low eyes set on yours.

“just make sure you’ve got one of those ready for me when i see ya next, and we’re more than good.”

i love all of these, they are so cute😭❤️❤️🤌🏻🤌🏻

‘what’s trending?’ | the series masterlist

# tiktok trends featuring... the boyz !

11 different trends paired with each member, 1 for everyone!

incoming message from leona ?!?

happy leona’s 200 days with the boyz!!!!! at first i was gonna make this a normal reaction thing but then i realized it was becoming way too long to be called a reaction for each member so i decided to make it into a series, sorry if this wasn’t what you were expecting but i can write what i want :p

i decided which member should get which scenrio using a wheel picker so i apologise if i make them a little ooc !!!

profiles one. | profiles two.

disclaimer. some drabbles might be shorter than others :o

lee sangyeon | # reject holding hands with him — click here!

jacob bae | # dodging his kiss — click here!

kim younghoon | # pretending to break your back — click here!

lee hyunjae | # i can't see when i close my eyes — click here!

lee juyeon | # pretending to hide someone — click here!

kevin moon | # smile if you wanna break up — click here!

choi chanhee | # pretending to get your arm stuck in a bottle — click here!

ji changmin | # act like you broke his things — wip. . .

ju haknyeon | # calling him husband — wip. . .

kim sunwoo | # he said he doesn’t love me anymore — wip. . .

eric sohn | # pretending to game with another guy — wip. . .

fill in this google form to be in the series/permanent tag list!

their banter is the best thing i have ever read, i’m obsessed😭 i love the way the tease each other, it is so cute

Home, Sweet Home – Dick Grayson x Reader

A/N: wjsksksksjd hi. almost 6k of dick grayson flirty fluff. restraint??? i don't know her. i've never heard of her. but i'm back on my dick grayson / jason todd bullshit so! is this ooc?? probably. do i care?? no. did i just want to write some fun flirty charming boyfriend dick grayson fluff because i'm in love with him?? yes. so here you go. shout out to @bvcksmunson for reading this for me before i posted i love you shan!!!!! sorry for any mistakes or typos or wHatever and sorry if you read this in advance !!!! <3 mwah big kiss.

W/C: 5.8k

Warnings: language, sex references because it's me what did we expect, slight references to violence (hopefully i got everything, if not let me know!!)

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated !!! <3

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Dick is quick to react to your harsh greeting, throwing himself against your refrigerator dramatically, one hand gripping at the metal corner while the other clutches at his heart through the thick material of his suit. You watch him with raised eyebrows as he sinks down to your kitchen floor with a groan, biting back a smile because you'd hate for him to see that his little display more than amuses you; you're not sure you could live with yourself if you let him have that ego boost.

Dick Grayson is a major pain in your ass, but you'd be lying if you said you're not happy to see your boyfriend.

The hand on his chest flops to the floor, his legs spread out in a V shape, and he leans his head back against your refrigerator, eyes closed. It's quiet between the two of you as you watch him play dead, occasionally cracking open his right eye to make sure you're still watching before screwing it shut again.

You've let him have his moment; indulged in the dramatics enough to satisfy him you think, so you fold your arms over your chest and cock your head, asking, "Are you finished?"

Dick gasps for air suddenly, hyperventilating and choking for at least a minute before hurling his body with a loud thump. He lays on his back, arms and legs splayed out across your kitchen floor. One final, strained breath, and he falls silent again.

Oh, the poor fuckers in the apartment below.

You unfold your arms and give him a slow round of applause as you make your way towards him, looking down at him from above. "Wow. That was really something. I mean, what a show. Truly."

Blue eyes open to meet your own. He's already discarded the domino mask, left it sitting on your countertop along with an array of loose items from his suit. You can tell he's trying so desperately to keep a straight face as you stare down at him. "It's not a show. You've wounded me." He tells you.

You pout, mockingly. "Aw. You poor thing. Give me a minute and I'll cry about it."

"Feels like I've been shot through the heart."

With a roll of your eyes you step around him, opening the cupboard above the sink and grabbing a glass. "Don't tempt me. I might think about actually shooting you next time."

He springs to his feet as you flip the tap on, your back to him while you fill your glass. "Wow. A cold welcome and a threat. Is that any way to greet your favourite boyfriend?" You can practically hear the boyish grin in his tone.

You spin around, leaning against your counter, finally getting a good look at him. He's standing just over a metre away from you, hands on his hips with a smile on his lips that reaches from ear to ear. His black hair is ruffled, falling in his face; probably a consequence of the wind working against him on the way over to your place. There's a few scratches on his cheeks, and one on his chin, but that does nothing to take away from the fact that he's so damn handsome. You know it, and he does too. It's something you curse him for whenever he's around; it makes you falter, you lose your edge a little.

"Who says you're my favourite boyfriend?" You raise the glass to your lips and take a small sip. You're not particularly thirsty, it's more of a tactical move to distract yourself from caving into him immediately; a way to mask the smile that's been teetering on the edge since you saw him stood in your kitchen, raiding through the fridge before you caught him and he began his little performance.

Dick is unfazed by your slightly cutting words, however unserious they are. He knows he's your only boyfriend, there's no one in Blüdhaven who could even begin to compete with him. That grin of his refuses to shift as he asks, "Did I crack the top ten?"

"Barely. I'd place you at number nine."

He shrugs, "Good enough for me. Just don't tell me about these other boyfriends. I don't think my poor heart could take it."

You'll never resist an opportunity to wind him up, so you glance up at the ceiling and sigh, heavy and dreamy, "Well, the guy at number one—..."

Before you can conjure up a fake name and story for your very fake other boyfriend, he's already taken two long strides towards you, trapping you between his body and the counter. He raises his gloved hand up to your face, running it across your cheek down to your jaw, before pressing his index finger against your lips. "Didn't I just tell you not to tell me about your other boyfriends?"

Had anyone else tried their luck in silencing you, attempted to tell you what to do, you're certain you'd have them laid out in ten seconds, flat. Maybe five, if you're feeling particularly vicious. Dick Grayson is the exception. You've known him for years, been dating him for almost three, yet you still enjoy the back and forth of it all; that 'thrill of the chase' feeling is still there, and it still excites both of you just as much as it did all those years ago.

So you play along, a smirk on your lips, "I've never really liked being told what to do."

Dick chuckles quietly, "Don't I know that."

"Yeah. You do." More than anyone.

Your history with him is a long one.

It started back when you were operating in and around Blüdhaven under the alias 'Thorn'. Not very original, you know, and Nightwing made sure to remind you of that every time your paths crossed. You were a little spiteful, feeling as though Nightwing's transfer to Gotham's so called 'ugly sister city' made all the hard work you'd put into protecting the city look like nothing in comparison. You got on his radar pretty quickly, tracking his leads and making sure you got to them first, just to see the look on his face when he turned up and realised he was too late, that you'd already handled the situation. Sure, you didn't have half of the technology that he had from the big, bad Batman himself, but you still found a way to get the job done.

It continued like this for a while; the two of you working against each other, trying to be smarter and faster – better – than the other. Until you came across a threat bigger than the both of you, and a reluctant partnership was established. It was supposed to be a one night only kind of thing, but it quickly spiralled into an every night ordeal, with a sexual tension between the two of you that could've given Hollywood a run for it's money. He'd try and give orders – Batman style – and most of the time you'd blatantly defy him, because you've never really been the type to follow orders, and you knew he got a kick out of it, too.

You really, truly tried to keep your distance, to not allow yourself to be taken in by his dumb flirty comments, his cheesy grin whenever he made you smile, or that light blush that crept across his cheeks whenever you decided to have your own fun with him and flirt back. You tried really hard not to stare at his ass when you thought he wasn't looking, too. But were you ever going to tell him no when he pushed you up against the wall in a dark, wet back alley after a particularly stressful mission, hopped up on adrenaline and just aching for a release?

No, you weren't; you definitely didn't deny him.

It was nice. You were fine with quick, desperate sex in the most private place you could find after a mission followed by a night of sitting on rooftops, talking about anything and everything. One night, he unmasked himself, told you who he really was, and you returned the favour with little to no hesitation because you liked him – despite the embarrassment you felt about having a silly little crush – and you trusted him, most importantly.

It was an unspoken thing for the most part; you were both more than okay with avoiding the 'boyfriend' label because you liked being independent, and Dick – well he seemed to have commitment issues that were, truthfully, unmatched. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when he slipped through your apartment window one night (the one you leave unlocked purposefully for him), crawled into bed next to you and told you very sincerely that he wanted to try 'the boyfriend thing' – he wanted it to be just you and him. You're not sure what brought on his little outburst of romance, but you never doubted him when he told you he loved you that night.

You hung up your suit a year later, choosing to move on from your days of protecting the city, opting instead for a life of normality. Well, as much normality as you could get whilst dating Blüdhaven's very own Bird Boy. It felt right, but a small part of you feared Dick would get bored of you and your new oh-so-normal life – that he wouldn't want to stick around and just exist with you. Your fears were unwarranted, though, because nothing changed for either of you.

Dick is still here, with you; he's still aching for your love and your touch and your everything. You share an apartment. The cupboards are stocked with continental condiments, shelves full of weird knick knacks and multicoloured ornaments he's found abandoned over the years on his nightly patrols. The walls are lined with little plaques that read 'Live, Laugh, Love' and 'Home Sweet Home'; things he claimed to find funny and you detested for the longest time until it hit you one day that he really just loves having a place – a person – to call his. Somewhere he can just be with someone who loves him unconditionally.

As you look up into his eyes, his finger still on your lips, you can't help but think how truly head over heels you are for him, and you know he feels the same. Blüdhaven is, to be frank, a wasteland. Full of grime and grit, with a tainted history that it just can't seem to shake off – one that continues to this day. Dick Grayson is the one thing that keeps you grounded to this city; makes you feel like all of the hours, blood, sweat and tears you poured into the city to protect the people was all worth it, because you found each other. He's the bright light shining above the darkness, the only thing that keeps you here and still has you calling it your home.

But despite your feelings towards him, you still take every opportunity you can to bite at him – literally.

You bat your eyelashes at him and part your lips, taking the tip of his gloved finger into your mouth. He visibly tenses when your tongue swirls against the leather; lets out a breath – almost a moan, when you suck ever so slightly. You're insistent on maintaining eye contact, but he's struggling to look you in the eyes as his face flushes bright red.

You bite down.

Not too harsh, but also not so gentle. It's enough to stun him, makes him jump away from you rather comically. You break out into a laugh while he shakes his hand, looking at you like you've just made him suffer through the ultimate betrayal.

"Ow." He pouts.

Through your giggles, you say, "Aw, did that hurt you, Bird Boy?"

"A little." He mumbles, trying his utmost to keep that sad, little pout on his lips as he watches you laugh at his misery.

"You're a liar, Dick Grayson."

Dick scoffs, "I'm not lying." He points an accusatory finger at you, the same one you sank your teeth into moments ago, "You bite hard."

"You never complained about that before." You say with a shrug, chewing down on your bottom lip.

He raises his hands in surrender, because he knows you're right. "And I'm not about to."

"Good." You let out a content sigh and push yourself off the counter, stepping towards where he stands in the middle of the kitchen. "So what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in Gotham?"

Dick shrugs, "Just got back. I thought I'd fly by our apartment. No pun intended." But that dumb smirk on his lips tells you that he meant all pun intended. His hands move to your hips, pulling your body close to his. There's earnest in his voice when he tells you, "I missed you. A lot."

You smile up at him, your hands on his chest, fingers tracing the blue symbol on the front of his suit. "Missing someone you love is usually what happens when you haven't seen them in more than two weeks." You joke, poking at his chest.

Despite your lighthearted tone, his face still falls. Guilt clouds in his eyes, and his smirk flips into a sad, little frown. "I'm–..."

You stand on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his and cutting him off before he can even begin to apologise. He tastes like strawberry chapstick and all the coffee he's been drinking to keep himself awake over the last two weeks. It's a weird combination of flavours, but one that you've become so accustomed to that you wouldn't change it for the world.

You swear you hear him moan quietly against your lips as he kisses you, so desperate to touch you and be close to you and love you. He pulls you towards him by your hips, your body flush against his, so close you can almost hear – no feel, his heartbeat.

You relish in the moment, allowing him to take control for a second because you've missed him too. You started missing him the minute he left your apartment, Gotham bound. You've missed waking up beside him. His bed-head. His smile. The way he sings power ballads in the shower when he doesn't think you're listening, even though you are because how the hell are you not supposed to hear him? You've missed every single piece of him, and you're glad he's been returned to you in pristine condition.

You pull away from him before things can get too heated, before he can even think about slipping his tongue into your mouth and lifting you up on to the counter. Dick is breathless, already wound up. The pale skin of his cheeks flooded with heat that stains them crimson, and you can't help but take a second to appreciate how cute he looks like this. And he's looking at you – in all your glory, donning old pyjamas and a crazy bed head – like you're the most beautiful, precious thing he's ever laid his eyes on. It makes you feel weak in the knees.

"I missed you too." You mumble, pushing a few wayward strands of hair out of his face.

He sighs, "Listen, dove, I'm really–..."

You throw your head back, letting out a loud ugghhhh mixed in with a giggle. "Shut up. I don't need to hear the famous Dick Grayson 'I'm sorry' speech again."

"Things just got–..."

"A little crazy!" You walk away from him, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room area; he follows your trail like a lost puppy, as he always does. "I heard what happened. Read it in the Gazette. You don't have to apologise for it. I get it."

Dick stands next to the couch as you walk over to the open window that he slipped through earlier tonight, hands on his hips. "So... You're not mad at me? Not even annoyed?" He sounds unsure, as if he's just waiting for you to blow up at him, even though he knows you're past that point. Hell, you've never been at that point. You've always been understanding of him and his situation; you were in the same boat as him for god knows how long, struggling to keep a relationship because you couldn't seem to find a balance between your life in and out of the suit. You've never held it against him, and you wouldn't think about starting to.

You glance over your shoulder and give him a soft, sweet smile as reassurance while you try to shove the old, stiff single-hung window shut. "Your family's in Gotham, and they needed your help."

You've only met his strange, mis-matched Gotham family a handful of times, but you care about them like they're your own, because in a way they are. The first time you met them, after the initial surprise of finding out you're Thorn – 'the one Dickie-Bird never shuts the fuck up about', as Jason put it – they welcomed you with open arms, even Bruce. You receive regular check in texts from Cass (usually a meme), and Damian calls you demanding to speak with Dick whenever he suspects he's being purposefully ignored.

"I'd rather you be gone for two weeks straight than hear any bad news coming from Gotham. Especially about you or your family." You give the window one last, hard shove, stepping back when it finally closes with a thud. You turn your attention back to him, "So, no. Not even annoyed. But I do wish you'd close the window after yourself."

Dick shrugs, a small grin on his lips, "I think the breeze is nice."

You scoff, "It's not a breeze. It's wind. Seriously, if you don't start closing the window when you come in, I'm gonna lock it. I'm gonna make you use the entrance. You're gonna have to knock on the door to get in here."

He lets out the most petulant whine you've ever heard, one that you're sure he's used on Bruce one too many times to get his own way – it probably worked, too. "That's not fair."

You just whine back at him mockingly as you walk over to the couch and flop yourself down on your back. "Oh, how tragic. You'll have to use the door of the apartment we've been renting for over a year. My heart hurts for you."

"What if you're asleep?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised.

You shrug, smirking at him, "Then you'll have to wait outside allllll night until I wake up."

"What if it's an emergency?"

"Then you'll have to make sure you knock extra loud."

"You're so cruel to me. Always out to hurt poor Dickie's feelings." He climbs up onto the arm of the couch, knees pressing into the soft cushion, ready to drop his body onto yours and melt into you. But you stick your foot out before he can, pushing against his chest and keeping him stationary. He gives you a look of offence, slapping your foot gently in a weak attempt to make you move. You don't.

"Stop leaving the window open."

"I will." He affirms, tapping your foot again.

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise." He says, with a childish roll of his eyes.

You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, a slight warning that tells him he better take his promise seriously, before dropping your foot. Without hesitation, he lets his body free fall on to yours, although careful not to crush you under his full weight. Still, you let out a quiet oof, because he's heavy – even heavier in that suit of his. You don't have time to think about asking him to shift his weight a little, because his legs are on either side of your body, hands have already found their way to your waist, and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Passionate and slow to begin with, making up for the weeks he's spent away from you; though it seems to turn heated quickly. You let him take the lead, allow him to nip on your bottom lip gently and slip his tongue into your mouth. You give him a minute to re-explore the familiar territory before you decide to have some fun of your own, biting down on his tongue gently and sucking against it. Dick lets out the most delicious, pathetic moan you've ever heard: one that has you giggling whilst pressing your thighs together in an attempt to keep yourself under control.

He pulls back, nose pressed against your own, shooting you a playful glare while your shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "What?" He asks, voice low and on the gruffer side, a bad cover up for what he'd just let slip from his throat seconds ago.

"Someone's excited tonight."

"Hm. Told you." He kisses your nose gently, then your cheek, trailing kisses all the way down to your jaw. "Missed you." He tucks his face into your neck, and you let out a gasp when you feel his tongue drag against the sensitive skin, your back arching into him. "'Nd m'sorry." He mumbles.

"I thought I told you not to apologise." You say, though it's strained; his lips are attached to your neck, and you're finding it hard to even think, let alone form sentences.

"I still wanted to."

You breathe out a laugh, though it turns into something of a moan when you feel his teeth scrape against your skin. "Can't help yourself, can you?"

"Nope." He says, popping the 'P'. Without warning, he bites down on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder. You let out a noise – something between a yelp and a loud moan, and when you look down at him with a pout on your lips, he's grinning at you. "Payback."

"You're a fuckhead."

"You started it."

"....Touché."

You fall quiet, allowing him to continue on with his revenge attack on your neck, whimpering when he sucks down on your sweet spots; cursing under your breath when he slips his cold, gloved hand under the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Don't you have somewhere to be tonight?" You ask. A throwaway question, really. Just a cheap little dig at him to distract yourself from the fact he's getting you riled up.

But then he pauses, his whole body tensing for just a moment, before he answers with a, "No..."

And now your throwaway question is a serious inquiry. "So you do have somewhere you need to be tonight?"

He hums against your skin, "It can wait."

The truth is, it probably can't wait. You try not to read up on crime in Blüdhaven so often, try to keep your days of being a protecter of the city in the past as much as you can (Dick is the exception, of course), but even you know that the city has suffered massively from Nightwing's two week leave of absence in Gotham. Gang and mob activities began to rise the second he left; Blüdhaven always seems to deteriorate into madness when he's not around to keep everyone and everything in line.

With a sigh, you grab on to the back of his suit and pull him away from you, choosing to ignore his whiny protest, making him look at you. "If there's somewhere you need to be, you should go."

"I already told you. It can wait."

You smile at him, brows raised, "Can it? You've been gone for two weeks. You have a lot of catching up to do. Blühaven's really been missing its Boy Wonder."

Dick smirks, "Has it missed me as much as you?"

"I don't think that's possible. I've been crying, like, every day. Total devastation while you've been gone."

"And not a single word of comfort from your nine other boyfriends?" His jaw drops in mock disbelief. "I don't know why you like them more than me."

You hum, "I only like eight of them more than I like you."

He snorts, "Oh, well that makes all the difference."

You smack his shoulder playfully, "Get up."

With a groan, he uses the back cushions of the sofa to push himself off of you, "Can't believe I'm being kicked out of my own apartment. I've been here for, like, fifteen minutes, and I'm already being told to leave." He stands up, stretching out his back as he trudges back to the kitchen to pick up the discarded mask and gadgets he left on the counter. "I'm starting to think you're just dying to get rid of me."

You gasp, "Me?! Never!" You sit yourself up, back leaning against the arm. "I'm just looking out for you. You've already fallen behind schedule."

He chuckles as he straps his gear back into place, "Then why don't you dust off that suit of yours and help me get back on track?"

"Absolutely not. My vigilante days are over." You say with a scoff.

"Don't you miss it?" He asks, shoving his escrima sticks into the tight straps on his back.

"If by 'it', you mean having to haul your ass out of a mess every night because you can't help but bite off more than you can chew, then no. I don't."

"Hey! That's unfair!"

"Is it?"

Dick scoffs, "Yeah. We all know you're the worst at following orders."

You fling your legs over the side of the couch and push yourself up, "Yeah, I am. But you're impulsive."

He fits the domino mask on, and you can't help but feel slightly satisfied at how it sits on his face so perfectly. "Yeah, well, I'm doing fine on my own. Very much alive, actually."

You saunter over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, looking up at him through your lashes, "Thanks to me. I kept you out of the shit for god knows how long."

"And I'm continuing to keep myself out of it." He taps your nose. "Learnt from the best." You smile softly at him, but then he follows up with, "I meant Batman, by the way." Before he can even gauge your reaction, he's already cracked himself up with his own joke, like he'd been planning it in his head the whole time. He probably – no, definitely had been.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest and shoving your tongue into your cheek to stop yourself from laughing along with it. "You're an asshole."

"I'm your asshole, though." Dick gives you his cheesiest grin as he struts over to the window, patting his body down to check he hasn't forgotten anything. You follow him, stand beside him as he slides the window open with ease and curse him internally because that window – the one he leaves open almost every night – is usually your greatest enemy. But of course, it plays ball for the golden boy. Typical.

With a rather dramatic sigh he climbs through, only partly though, sitting on the sill with one leg dangling freely above the city and the other still in your apartment, foot pressing against the hardwood floor. "I won't be too long. Promise." He tells you.

You snort, "That translates to 'I'll see you in the morning', in Dick Grayson terms."

Dick lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, a soft smile on his lips, "Maybe. But I'll be home for breakfast, for sure. What do you want? I'm feeling..." He pauses for a second, chewing on his bottom lip before he comes to a conclusion, "Pancakes."

"You're always feeling pancakes. They're like, the only thing you're good at making. Unless we want our whole apartment building to burn down because you decided to branch out for breakfast."

"Pancakes it is!" He announces.

"Cool."

He nods, "Yeah. Cool."

Then it falls quiet between the two of you. Dick rubs his chin, staring right at you – specifically a certain part of your face – as you chew down on that something and glance around the room, feigning cluelessness. He won't leave without a kiss goodbye; not once has he climbed through the window and disappeared into the night without planting his lips on yours. You'll give into him, because you always do, but you love to tease. Not to mention the fact he's only just come back, and although you're more than happy for him to go out and take care of whatever's going on in the streets, you're willing to delay Nightwing's return to Blüdhaven for a little while longer.

You're making a point to look anywhere but at him, and the longer the silence drags on, the more you begin to feel the giggles rising in your throat. You can't even look at him for more than a second, his lips pressed into a thin line as he tries to fight back hysterics because he knows what you're doing.

Eventually, you take it upon yourself to break the silence, covering your mouth with your hand and asking through stifled laughter, "Are you gonna leave?"

Dick breaks, bursting out into a fit of laughter. He leans his head back against the window frame, shoulders shaking. "I can't leave yet." You shoot him an amused look that says 'oh really?'. "You know what I want."

You let out a lighthearted groan which quickly descends into a giggle, "Do I have to?"

"Uh-huh. Got two weeks to make up for."

"And whose fault is that?"

He shrugs, "Mine, and I'm dead set on making up for lost time. Bring it here, Thorny." He leans over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

"Don't fucking call me that." You try to say it with as much malice as you can muster, which is hard considering you can't seem to stop grinning at him.

"Wow. Someone's feeling prickly tonight. I can see why you called yourself Thorn." His hand rests on the small of your back, gently commanding you to stay put.

"Fuck you, Grayson. I'll push you out of the window."

His brows shoot up in amusement at your meaningless threat. "That'd be rude."

"Yeah?"

Dick nods slowly, "Yeah. Could kill me." That's a lie. Both of you know that even if you did mean it and you were planning to push him out, he'd find a way to counter. You live on the top floor of your building, but he's a trained acrobat and a quick thinker with enough gadgets on his person to ensure he'd be back at your window in two minutes, tops.

Still, you play along. "Maybe that's the goal."

"You love me too much to kill me."

"Oh, you think?"

He blows out his cheeks, "Wow. You're so mean to me."

You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, "Yet you keep coming back."

"Well, I do live here." He deadpans. You stare at him for a good ten seconds before you break out into another fit of giggles, punching his shoulder and breathing out a 'fuck you'. He raises his free hand, "I'm just saying. Wouldn't wanna go through the moving out process. Y'know, having to pack my stuff and hire a moving service—...."

"Get out!"

"Nuh-uh. Gimme a kiss first." Dick leans closer to you and puckers his lips, screwing his eyes shut. He gives you a moment, and when he doesn't feel you move he raises his hand and taps his index finger against his lips. "I won't leave until you kiss me."

With another groan, you lean in and plant your lips against his. You try to pull away quickly, short and sweet, but he keeps you close. He kisses you again, and again, and again. Until you're practically balancing on the heels of your feet, held up only by his strong hand on your back, and he's almost back inside of your apartment.

You let out a breathless laugh against his lips, your hands pushing against his shoulders, "Go, or I won't let you leave."

"Is that a promise?" He murmurs.

"Go."

With a sigh, he turns his body and lifts his other leg over the window, gripping on to the top pane to keep himself seated for the time being. He looks over his shoulder at you, "I'll see you soon, okay?"

You give him a smile, "Okay."

"I'm gonna make you the best pancakes you've ever eaten."

"I'm sure."

He rolls his eyes playfully, because how dare you doubt his pancake making skills. "See you in the morning, babe. Love you!" With that, he pushes himself off the window and free falls.

You've watched him do it countless times, but you can't help the way it takes your breath away every single time; panic sucker punches you right in the stomach and you can't help but yell out 'Richard John Grayson' as you throw yourself towards the window and lean the upper half of your body out into the cold city.

That wing-suit of his will be the death of you one day.

You look down at the dimly lit streets, looking for any sign of your boyfriend who's just allowed himself to drop from the top floor of the apartment building, but he's nowhere in sight. It's only when you hear his voice calling your name that you realise he's standing atop a lower roof across the street, a dumb grin on his lips.

"That was really funny, Dickie!" You yell out sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest.

"It's my party trick!" He shouts back, resting his hands on his hips. "You know what I always say: you'll never know if you can fly unless—...."

"You take the risk of falling! Whatever! Get out of here!"

You hear him laugh, despite the distance between you. He turns, ready to take off into the depths of the city, but not before yelling another, "I love you!"

With an eye roll, and a soft smile on your lips, you tell him, "I love you too! Be safe!" You're just about to retreat back into the warmth of your apartment, but you remember you still need to tell him something very important. "Close the window when you get back!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know!"

The next morning, you wake up to a sleep-deprived boyfriend cursing under his breath at a bowl of homemade pancake mix, and a very open window.

i love hitoshi😫🫶🏻

Hitoshi offers to stay.

950 words

You puttered around your new apartment tending to your guests. Having a party with the rest of your pro-hero friends seemed like a good idea to celebrate your new place. However, you failed to remember that the one thing about heroes is they work hard and drink harder.

Getting everyone together to celebrate soon resulted in your apartment being filled with drunk friends. Laughing, dancing, catching up, but also plenty of alcohol spills.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry in your new place too,” Mina apologized, eyes glazed over from the alcohol, she looked around the room for some napkins.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it! I’ll be right back,” you assured her and quickly took off for the kitchen.

You rounded the corner too fast, in a hurry, and half buzzed. Trying as quickly as possible to clean the spill, you weren’t paying attention and crashed into Hitoshi.

His red solo cup squashed between you both soaking his shirt.

“Shit! I’m so sorry Shinso,” you apologized backing up embarrassed.

“It’s alright,” he replied, glancing down at his drenched shirt.

“I got to clean up a spill in the living room, but then I’ll come back to remake your drink!” You said hurriedly grabbing the napkins.

“You don’t have to,” he replied, but you had already vanished back into the living room.

Mina continued to apologize as she bent down to the floor with you to soak up the spill.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents were bound to happen with all of us together again,” you laughed.

Mina giggled, “Guess we both need another drink, don’t we?” She suggested.

“I actually bulldozed into Shinso so, I’m going back to remake his drink. I’ll bring you back one too,” you offered.

Mina glanced up at you, ready to make a joke but you had already grabbed the soiled napkins and headed back to the kitchen.

When you entered the kitchen, Hitoshi had already remade the drink you spilled.

“I told you I’d remake it for you,” you spoke, alerting his attention.

“It’s fine, seems you got your hands full,” he commented, noticing your out of breath appearance.

“Let me at least get you a shirt and dry that one up,” you offered. “I’ve got a clean oversized t-shirt somewhere.”

Hitoshi smiled; it was sweet you were so persistent. He really didn’t care about his wet shirt, but he didn’t mind you wanting to tend to him.

“Alright, if you feel so inclined,” he agreed.

“Ok come with me,” you motioned for him to follow you to your room.

You poked around the room searching for a shirt that would fit him, while Hitoshi gazed around your room. Most of your things still in boxes. Very few items decorated your room, but on the bed a stuffed animal was laid out neatly. Something about that was cute and innocent. It made him feel as though he was stealing glances into your private life.

“Here you go! I think this one should fit, at least while I throw yours in the dryer,” you declared, holding up a plain black t-shirt that you sometimes used for bed. “I promise it’s clean.”

“Hold this for me for a second?” He asked handing you his drink. You grabbed the solo cup from him, and Hitoshi pulled off his soaked shirt.

“Oh,” you mewled out accidentally. Maybe it was the buzz you had going, but the sight of Hitoshi shirtless made your fingers tighten around the solo cup. The spill from the alcohol caused his toned abs to glisten in the low light of your room. Hitoshi peered up at you, an eyebrow raised at your reaction.

“Sorry!” You blurted out, “You um- must be doing a lot of hero work, you look good.” You said honestly.

“Thank you,” he replied, cheeks turning rosy at your compliment.

“Oh, uh here,” you handed him the dry shirt, hands shaking. It was clear you were nervous.

Hitoshi thought it was amusing. A beautiful woman like you nervous because of him? He couldn’t deny how much he loved it.

Grabbing the shirt from you, your bedroom door suddenly bursts open.

“Ops,” Mina giggled. “Was wondering when you were coming back with my drink. Didn’t realize I was interrupting,” she commented glancing over at Hitoshi who was still shirtless.

Your face darkened with embarrassment, “No! I was just giving him a dry shirt!” You explained.

“Uh hu, sure sure,” Mina laughed, leaving and closing the door behind her.

“I’m sorry!” You said to Hitoshi, face completely scarlet.

“Do you always apologize this much?” he asked, finally grabbing and putting on the dry shirt. “I haven’t seen you relax since I got here. Everyone seems to be letting loose but you.”

You let a sigh, and what felt like the first time since the party took in a breath. “To be honest I thought it would be fun to celebrate my new place with everyone but- it’s turning out to be overwhelming.”

“Mm,” Hitoshi hummed understanding. “It’s definitely a rambunctious group. Hard to keep up with all that energy.”

“Exactly! I’m trying to be a good host but I’m exhausted.” You confessed.

“If you’d like I’ll stay till everyone leaves and help clean up,” Hitoshi offered.

Your eyes flashed to his. Was that an innocent offer, you wondered? If his kindness had an ulterior motive, his lilac eyes gave nothing away. His gaze rested on you lazily, with a calmness that you envied.

You swallowed as your mind raced at the possible implications, deciding to accept his help.

“Yeah… I’d like that,” you smiled, part of you hoping Hitoshi did have another reason for wanting to stay.

sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams

this was a-maz-ing🤌🏻 kojo and tim? i’m sold.

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. You’re considering taking Tim’s offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim is staring at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”