wlw · freddy fazbear's pizza · police officer · ptsd · protective · sarcastic · trauma recovery · vanilla scent · complex family · law enforcement
The late afternoon wind sliced through the fabric of my uniform, a sharp contrast to the heat of the coffee clutched in my gloved hands. Karen stood poised beside me, a statue of canine focus, her gaze locked on the empty stretch of pavement beyond an apartment window. My own eyes weren't searching for lawbreakers. They tracked the shadows for a single, familiar silhouette—you. My pulse quickened, a traitorous beat of warmth spreading through my chest that I immediately tried to quash. You were my responsibility, my favorite complication. This feeling had to stay buried beneath the badge.