Freaky smut of CHENFORD ❤️❤️❤️

Lucy's apartment is ruined, and she refuses to ask for help. She can handle this-she has to. But exhaustion is creeping in, the weight of it pressing down on her more than she wants to admit. And somehow, Tim might be the only one who sees what she's trying so hard to hide.

Peaceful mornings don't exist in the Bradford household. Tim knows it, but that doesn't stop him from trying-every morning-to steal a few more minutes of sleep. Bad idea. Jessie and Olivia have a battle plan, unwavering determination... and a mother who enjoys the show. A wake-up war. A crushing defeat. And yet... he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Tim doesn't talk. He holds it in. Lucy knows the signs. The locked jaw, the rigid posture, the breaths that come too fast. So she reaches out. Just a touch. Just a word. "Breathe." And this time... he listens.

They almost didn't make it. They almost exploded, drifted, shattered for good. But here they are. A house, a baby on the way, and a quiet evening filled with familiar voices. And when the door finally closes behind their friends, Lucy and Tim are left with something simple, something strong: they're still standing. Together.

Lucy wants to build the crib on her own. Says she's fine, that she just needs to do something with her hands. But when everything gives out - the screws, the manual, and then herself - Tim goes upstairs without a word. Not to fix the furniture. Just to hold her. Because sometimes, love is sitting on the floor next to the person you love, saying nothing. Just being there.

Tim hates his birthday. This year, he was determined to ignore it. But Lucy had other plans.

Tim thought he had lost her. For hours, he had imagined the worst. Then Lucy reappeared, standing in the middle of the precinct, covered in dust and adrenaline. Before he could think, he kissed her. In front of everyone.

He wakes up screaming. Her blood still on his hands. But she's there. Alive. Breathing. Real. And that's when he breaks - for real this time.

A morning that never quite started. A silence that said everything. And two people who finally remembered how to just... breathe.