The Flower And The Serpent : A Walt De Ville X Reader FF : Two

Rook Book to Remember Me By

Part 2 of Rook Book

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Metro!reader

Summary: Tim's delay in transferring to Metro may have cost him everything, and as he and Lucy search Los Angeles for a killer, he only has his memories and a fake rook book to remember you by.

Warnings: ANGST, death, fluff

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: I know this is a Chenford gif but it fits. :)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“What is that?” Lucy asks as she waits beside Tim’s desk. “A bomb?”

“Lower your voice, boot,” Tim snaps. “We don’t need a stampede.”

“Yes, sir. So, what is it?”

“What does it look like? It’s a book.”

“No, it’s a rook book with a bow on it. And I bet I know who it’s from.”

“50 pushups.”

“But-“

“You want double?”

Lucy frowns as she silences, and she watches Tim lift the book. He opens the front cover and shakes his head before dropping it into one of his drawers. Lucy doesn’t move toward the door, and Tim sighs as he leans against his desk.

“What?” he asks.

“Is that just a book? Or a non-rook-book-rook-book? Like the one somebody’s pretty TO used to carry?”

“Pretty TO?” you ask from behind Lucy.

Tim had been too distracted by the book and Lucy’s prying questions to notice you walk in. Dressed in your Metro uniform, you slide your hands into your pockets and smile.

“I’ll assume you’re talking about Tim,” you add.

“Yeah, right,” Lucy snorts.

“100 pushups it is,” Tim announces.

“Tim,” you chide softly. “You can’t blame her for being excited to see this side of you. It took me your entire probationary period to learn you could smile.”

“Chen, give us a minute,” Tim says.

“Do I have to?” she asks quietly.

“Yes,” you and Tim say together. The difference is that you add, “Please.”

You watch Lucy move toward the equipment room before turning to Tim. He furrows his brows and unconsciously blocks the drawer with your gift in it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call last night,” you begin. “Metro raided a speakeasy, and it went a little haywire.” “Are you okay?” Tim interrupts. “That’s what I was going to ask you. I know you tolerate me, maybe even like me a little, but you don’t call unless you need something.”

“I, uh, just wanted to hear your voice. But I’m fine, I promise.”

You nod and run your tongue over your bottom lip as you think. “Still have nightmares?”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, Lucy is ready to pass that test, but in the end moving to Metro is a big decision. One you can do; I don’t doubt that. Just… don’t stick around because you think you have some debt to pay or something. Your boot is important, but your career is too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Your Metro Commander yells your name, and you lay a hand on Tim’s shoulder before whispering a farewell. He watches you go and decides that when he calls you tonight, he’ll ask why you chose the book you did. Hopefully, he thinks, it will allow him to admit some things. He needs more than your voice to calm him in the middle of the night these days.

“Can I just say one thing?” Lucy asks from the passenger seat of the shop.

“Will me saying no stop you?” Tim replies.

“I think you’re really cute together. She’s been waiting for you, and I don’t think you should make her wait just because you’re scared.”

“What makes you think I’m scared? You mean well, Chen, but this is none of your concern.”

“Maybe not. But it’s yours, and you know I’m right.”

Tim wants to keep arguing, maybe threaten Lucy with more pushups to make her leave it alone, but the radio cuts him off.

“Attention all units. Officer down at Wilshire Federal Building. Metro requesting backup. Will advise.”

Tim’s world slows as he pulls the shop to a curb. He and Lucy are too far away to provide backup fast enough, but he can’t move until he knows that you’re okay. Lucy watches him as he stares at the radio, but with each second of silence, she gets more concerned for him.

“She’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispers.

Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative but believing that you’re okay without knowing is more dangerous than being wrong and hearing another officer’s name over the radio.

“Bradford, Chen, Harper, Nolan,” Wade radios. “Get back to the station and prepare to assist Metro.”

“Uh, you- you drive, Lucy,” Tim says as he unclips his seatbelt.

“Attention all units,” the dispatch officer begins.

She identifies the downed officer, and when your name is said, Tim’s world stops. He waited too long, and now he can never tell you how he feels. He had a crush on you, he wants to say, but it turned into so much more.

“Tim,” Lucy calls as she opens the driver-side door. “C’mon.”

Tim doesn’t feel any shame as he leans on Lucy. She ushers him into the passenger seat before she drives to the station with lights and sirens on. Tim’s silence is terrifying, and although Lucy is also feeling grief and is heartbroken to hear you’re gone, her concern for Tim outweighs her own emotions.

As Tim exits the shop, his devastation suddenly makes room for anger. He doesn’t blame any of your fellow officers, but if he had moved to Metro sooner, he would have been there with you, and maybe he could have changed the outcome. He slams the door and ignores Lucy as he storms into the bullpen.

Lucy and Tim slow as they see several Metro teams gathered together, but it’s obvious that something is wrong, something is missing. There’s a gap where you should be, and even the elite tactical officers seem lost without you.

“What happened?” Tim asks.

“Officer Bradford, we can’t release any information yet,” Wade answers. “Metro’s going to fill you in on what you need to know. They need as many of us as they can get.”

Tim clenches his jaw to stop the remark that he wants to make. The Metro teams are talking quietly, and he gestures for Lucy to step to his other side as he moves closer.

“You saw the shot?” one of them asks.

“Yeah,” someone answers.

“Then where’d they take her?”

At the realization that you’re not only gone, but they don’t even know where your body is, Tim begins looking around. He sees his Sergeant, Captain, and the Metro commanders huddled in a corner and walks directly to them.

“I want a position in the task force. You need more people, and I’m one of the few patrol officers who knows how to complete a manhunt like this,” he demands.

“I understand where you’re coming from Bradford, but you’re too invested in this to go out alone,” Wade replies.

“Then let me go with him,” Lucy interjects. “Tim knows what he’s doing, and we can patrol and engage in the manhunt at the same time, right?”

Wade looks to the Metro sergeant to his left, who shrugs noncommittedly. He sighs before nodding and tells Tim to get back out on the street and wait for the information about the gunman.

“Wait,” Tim tells Lucy as he stops beside his desk.

He pulls the book from the bottom drawer and tucks it under his arm before continuing to the shop. If this is his last drive where you’re involved, he wants you there. Or as close as he can get.

“Dispatch released a picture,” Lucy says before turning the dash computer toward Tim.

He looks at the picture until the light turns green, and then he begins a grid search surrounding the Wilshire Federal Building. If that man is still nearby, and Tim finds him first, prison will be the least of his worries.

“What’s the book?” Lucy inquires.

“It’s her favorite,” Tim answers.

“You know what her favorite book is. That’s really sweet, Tim.”

“She’s been telling me for years to read it and I keep making excuses not to.”

“And now?”

Tim nods, and Lucy knows that he is going to not only read the book but devour it and everything related to it to feel close to you again.

“7-Adam-19, assault in progress inside Shell gas station at the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Greenfield Avenue. 9-1-1 caller requested your presence on scene.”

Tim hits the steering wheel before telling Lucy to accept the call. He doesn’t have time to break up a fight in a gas station, not when your killer is on the loose. The gas station is less than five minutes away, but Tim gets grumpier with every minute. As he and Lucy enter the gas station, he’s prepared to jump in the fight just to finish it faster.

“You called the police, what’s the problem?” Tim asks the cashier.

The young girl looks scared; her face is pale, and her hands shake above the cash register.

“This doesn’t look like an assault in progress,” Tim adds with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Lucy steps forward to speak to the girl while Tim looks around. The gas station is empty, but Tim doesn’t make it far before he sees a blood trail on the floor. It rounds the end of the cashier’s counter and disappears under a door. Tim pulls his gun and whispers for Lucy to stay ready as he steps toward the door.

“In there?” Lucy asks.

The woman behind the counter nods, and Lucy gestures for Tim to go ahead. Tim pushes the door open and raises his gun to clear the room while Lucy stays on the other side of the opening. He looks down to follow the blood but freezes when someone speaks.

“Officer Bradford, California Penal Code 217.1 is punishable by what?”

“Chen!” Tim yells as he holsters his gun.

Lucy hits the light switch for the storage closet, and Tim kneels to lift a bloody gun from the floor.

“They said you died,” Tim says as he moves closer to you.

You hear Tim begin asking questions when he enters the gas station and hope the cashier that you scared by walking in covered in blood can point him to your hiding spot in the storage closet. Your gun is on the floor beside your feet and your long-sleeve Metro t-shirt is balled against the gunshot wound in your shoulder.

When Tim opens the door, you ask him about a penal code before your head tips forward. Staying conscious while losing blood isn’t as easy as some may think, and you want to make a joke, but Tim jumps to action before you can.

“They said you died,” Tim says quietly.

He lays a hand over your cheek as his other hand applies more pressure to the fabric on your shoulder.

“I think that was the goal,” you mumble.

“Chen, radio for-“

“No!” you interrupt. Your voice raises at the idea of Chen communicating this news over the radio. “The men who we went in there to arrest have radios. They knew we were coming, but if they think I’m dead we can use that.”

“You need help,” Tim argues.

He reaches for his phone, and you lay a bloody hand on his forearm to stop him. You wait for him to look at your face to smile.

“We find another way to get help. But as far as anyone with a police radio knows, I’m still dead.”

“How am I supposed to get you treatment for a GSW without raising any red flags? Any ER nurse will call the police.”

“What about Grace?” Lucy suggests. “Nolan’s friend? If we could talk to her before we take you in, she may be able to keep it quiet.”

“If you think it will work, let’s do it,” you agree.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “We’re not putting your life in the hands of a rookie.”

“Tim, she’s right. This is a good plan and one we need if we want these guys off the street. Please, just trust me and Lucy for a few minutes. You can yell at us and brainstorm new Tim Tests later.”

“Call Grace,” Tim says as he moves his arms around you. “If this starts going wrong, or something happens to you, I will use my radio.”

“Understood.”

You keep your uninjured arm across your chest as Tim lifts you into his arms. Lucy leads the way out and opens the backdoor of the shop before apologizing to the gas station clerk. She leaves her card and scribbles the number of someone who can clean the bloody scene but reminds the girl not to call the police or tell anyone you were here. As Tim drives through traffic and Lucy talks to Grace, you notice a book in the floorboard and chuckle.

“What?” Tim asks quickly.

“You have my rook book.”

“Guess I don’t have to read it now that you’re not dead.”

“If I didn’t know better I would think you’re mad at me, Bradford.” “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

“Don’t risk your job for revenge, Tim. I know you care about me, and I care about you, too, but this isn’t worth it. We work the case like any other.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tim snaps. “You didn’t think the woman you love was murdered twenty minutes ago.”

Lucy ends the call and looks through the cage at you. It’s not how Tim planned to tell you, but he feels lighter with the admission.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” you whisper.

“Tell me after.”

“I’m not waiting until the end of Lucy’s probation period.”

“Please don’t,” she agrees. “I can only take so much more pining from this one.”

“I don’t pine,” Tim grumbles.

“Yes, you do,” you and Lucy argue together.

“Bradford, status report?” Wade radios.

Tim looks at Lucy, who apologizes quickly for not communicating a code 4.

“Code 4, Grey,” Tim replies. “But don’t ask any questions right now.”

“Okay. As long as you didn’t break any laws, this conversation never happened.”

Tim glances over his shoulder at you, and you state, “I haven’t broken any laws. Have you?”

“Not yet. If there’s blood on this book later, that’s your fault.”

Tim sighs, and it sounds almost like a laugh. You don’t have time to tease him before he pulls into the emergency room drop-off area of Shaw Memorial Hospital. Grace and several nurses run out and wheel you in quickly, promising to help you without asking any questions or reporting anything to the police.

“What now?” Lucy asks as the doors close behind you.

“Now, we find the people who are getting 15 to life for trying to kill an officer for completing her duties,” Tim answers.

“Tim,” Lucy calls.

He stops, and she points to the blood staining his skin. Tim opens the trunk of the shop and retrieves a pack of wipes from one of the war bags. Lucy watches as he harshly scrubs your blood from his skin and gets angrier with every wipe he tosses aside.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asks.

“Lucy,” he begins as he slams the trunk closed. “I’m pissed off and I have a feeling in my chest that I’m not used to. But how I feel doesn’t matter. We’re going to get every single one of the people involved in this, and make sure they end up in a hole.”

“By ‘a hole,’ you mean prison, right?” Tim walks around the shop rather than answering, and Lucy rushes to repeat, “You mean prison, right?”

“7-Adam-19, report to Sepulveda and Ohio Avenue.”

“What now?” Tim yells.

He steers the shop into an illegal U-turn and speeds down Sepulveda Boulevard. Lucy gasps as they near the intersection.

“Turn left onto Ohio,” she says.

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Second left onto Camden,” she adds after he turns.

Tim slams on the brakes when he sees someone sitting on the curb at the end of Camden Avenue. Lucy exits the shop as soon as it stops and rushes to hug you as you stand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?” Tim demands as he joins you.

“Uh, no?” you guess.

“It’s not your fight anymore. You’re dead, remember?”

“Tim-“

“No, you’re going home. You just got out of the hospital.”

“It was just a flesh wound. Lots of blood, a couple of stitches, but no long-term damage. Besides, when’s the last time you got to watch a ghost slap the cuffs on her killer?”

“Look around Tim,” Lucy encourages.

He already know where he is: the sight of his first arrest with you as his TO, it’s a day he’ll never forget. Tim groans before he waves his hand toward the shop. Lucy cheers and offers you her seat. It’s strange being in the passenger seat with Tim again; last time you were here, he was in long sleeves and fresh out of the Army. He was a great rookie, and he’s a great TO, but you want him to be more.

“Tim!” you alert just as Tim slows to a stop.

“I see him,” he agrees.

“Was that too easy?” Lucy asks.

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Tim responds.

“We can do it,” you tell Tim. “You go left, I go right, Lucy splits the middle.”

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” Lucy whispers from the backseat.

“Alright,” Tim agrees. “Lucy, you do whatever you have to do to get the one in the middle down, okay?”

“3… 2… 1…” you and Tim count down together.

You exit the shop silently and leave the doors open. As Tim goes wide to take down the suspect on the left, you move toward the man who shot you. You, Lucy, and Tim strike at the same time and push the suspects down onto the sidewalk. The man beneath you attempts to elbow you in the face, but you shove his head down against the concrete and warn him against moving.

When you cuff him and pull him up to his knees, the man gets a good luck at your face. His expression changes and he leans away like you’re truly a ghost. He tries to move back, but only tips and rolls into the street.

“Leave him,” Tim says as he reaches for his radio. “Grey, this is Bradford, Chen, and our missing Metro officer. We’ve got good news and three suspects in custody. Send backup to my location.”

“No R/A?” you ask. “Because you seemed really eager to send me back to the hospital earlier.”

“You seem fine,” Tim explains with a shrug.

“Tim,” you call as you exit Wade’s office.

He’s changed into his civvies and is preparing to leave for the night. You can’t let him, though, because there is no more time.

“Can you- do you wanna come over for a bit?” you ask.

The left side of Tim’s lips move up as he nods, and you accept his hand as he leads you to his truck. Tim drives to your home in relative silence, and you use the time to find the right words to say. Once you’re inside, you sit on the couch beside Tim and decide to tell him everything. You’ve let him into your life and your house, now you just have to let him in on how you feel.

“You said you loved me in the shop today,” you say. “But I have been falling for you since the moment you walked into roll call your first day. You’ve always been more than my rookie and I can’t live another day without you in my life, Tim. I want you. Nightmares, embarrassing memories between us, fake rook books, all of it. I need you, Tim.”

Tim leans closer with his arm stretched on the back of the couch behind your shoulders. “This is better than 1001.66,” he murmurs.

“Did you just compare my confession of being in love with you to a penal code about bad checks? Because that is-“

Your words end in a hum as Tim curls his arm around your shoulders and kisses you. He tugs you closer, and you hold his face between your hands as you show him that your words are more than that. Tim has had a crush on you since he started patrolling with you, but now he knows that he loves you and needs you beside him. You push him, and he pushes you, but you do it because you know what you’re capable of.

Tim’s phone rings, but he ignores it as he pulls you closer, so your legs are bracketing his. He leans up to continue kissing you as his phone begins ringing again. You press your hands against his chest and break away to retrieve his phone. He follows your movement and peppers kisses along your jaw, completely uninterested in answering his phone.

You see the name on the caller ID and answer, “Hi, Lucy.”

“Hey!” she replies. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing. And if Tim’s alright after everything that happened.”

“We’re both fine,” you promise breathlessly.

“Wait-“

You assume that Lucy realizes that you answered Tim’s phone, which means you’re still together. She squeals into the phone, and you pull it away from your ear and smile.

“Oh, I have to tell Angela!” she yells.

Tim rolls his eyes and keeps one hand around your waist as he pulls his phone away from you. “Bye,” he says quickly before ending the call.

“Hanging up on your rookie isn’t nice,” you say.

“Like you wouldn’t have hung up on me.”

“You were scared to call because you had a crush on me.”

“Still do.”

“What? Tim-“

Tim cuts you off with another kiss; it’s his answer and a reminder of how he feels. You remember the rook book that was in his truck, but now that you’re a permanent fixture in Tim’s life, you can make sure he reads it.

GRRRRRR I NEED A STILES FIC WHERE'S UR LIKE THE COACH'S KID OR SMTH AND HE FINDS OUT. IT'S NOT FUNNY I NEED STILES IN MY VEINS AAAA. Who said that guys...

ˋ°•*⁀➷ “You’re coach’s daughter!?” ♬⋆.˚

╰┈➤ requested!

pairings(s)- stiles stilinski x reader

Summary- You and Stiles have been talking recently but he finds out who your dad is.

category- fluff

warnings- american school system, coach, greenberg, slight shy!stiles, not proofread

word count: 2670

masterlist; teen wolf masterlist

a/n: I hope this fits what you wanted!!

---------------------------

You had switched to Beacon Hills High School during your sophomore year of high school. Your father is a coach and teacher for Beacon Hills so you went to a different school, you and your dad (mostly you) thinking it was for the best.

But you hated it, the reachers were annoying, the school was crazy strict and you just didn’t fit within the school so you asked your dad if you could transfer to Beacon Hills where be taught at. He was more than overjoyed to now have you attending his school, he signed the transfer papers fairly quickly.

You had only transferred at the beginning of the school year, showing up for the first day like any of the normal students.

Now it was the 3rd month of school and no one knew you were Coach Finstocks daughter except for the two of you, and the principal. Your parents split up when you were little, your dad getting full custody of you though you do see your mom here and there. When you were born you got your mothers last name, something to do with her culture or the way she was raised so that was another reason no one knew you were Bobby’s daughter, you guys didn’t have the same last name.

When you arrived at the school your attention was immediately taken by a certain boy. His name was Stiles Stilinski. As soon as you saw him you thought he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen, everything about him was literally perfect in your eyes. So what did you do? You talked to him…but not until like a month and a half of school had already passed

On the first day of school when you walked into class is when you noticed him, you also noticed him staring. So you walked towards the empty seat behind him and sat down. That day when you had sat in that seat, he and his friend turned around slightly and you just gave them a smile.

Almost 2 months had passed since the first say of school and that was when the two of you first spoke. The both of you remembered that day distinctly.

You walked to your usual seat in first person and sat down, right behind Stiles like usual. When the teacher began class you took a breath. You had finally grown the balls to talk to him, since he wasn’t going to be the one to do it. Leaning forward slightly in your seat, your hand reaches forward and gently taps his shoulder twice, your hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment, not enough for someone else to notice, but enough for just the both if you to notice.

The boy quickly turned around, he knew it had to have been you since you sat behind him but when he turned around and actually got view of you actually trying to talk to him he lost his breath. His mouth dropped open slightly, his jaw slightly moving as if he was trying to talk but the poor boy just couldn’t get the words out.

In response to his awkwardness you let a smile overcome your face, trying your best to not laugh at his expression. “do you have a pencil I could borrow?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb the teachers lesson. Now, after a while of wanting to talk to him all you did was ask if you could barrow a pencil (which you had in your bag anyways), but it was better than nothing!

Stiles’s mouth snaps shut and he swallows, nodding quickly he turns around and grabs a perfectly sharpened pencil out of his bag. He turns back around rapidly and holds the pencil up between the two of you like it was a prize. The smile on your face grows wider all while he just stares at you with wide eyes, as if he’s in a trance. You reach forward and grab the pencil from his hand, purposely making your hand graze against his. The boys expression hadn’t changed, still looking at you as if you were a princess or something.

Stiles could have sworn his heart skipped a beat and no actually probably stopped when he turned around to see you looking at him with a gentle expression.

He had wanted to talk to you since the very first day of school when he saw you. Before that day he had never seen you, so clearly you were new to Beacon Hills, or at least new to the high school. He just never had the guts to actually speak to you, he was never good with girls. Especially very pretty ones like you. When he first turned towards you he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, you were up close and asking him a question and you looked like a princess. In that moment he would do anything you asked, when you asked for a pencil and finally snapped him out of his haze he was grateful. One of those reasons being because he thought he looked like an idiot staring at you like that, and second because he really liked your voice.

From that point forward the two of you spoke regularly. After a couple of days you guys ended up exchanging numbers and you talked 24/7. He still didn’t know that your dad was one of his teachers and his coach but you were going to tell him soon.

Last week Stiles was shockingly able to ask you on a date. You were shocked that he was able to stand in front of you and get the words out but you obviously said yes, happily. And when he got that answer he lit up like a kid at a candy store and did a celebratory movement. You had compromised a day in which you knew your dad wouldn’t be home, you didn’t want your dad to know just yet and you didn’t think Stiles would want to be heavily interrogated on your first date.

The date had went great, the two of you were just as amazing together as you were outside of romantic feelings. Although you guys just recently met, both of you could see a great relationship together and it was definitely something you both wanted to explore.

Just five days after your date with Stiles it was now a Wednesday and you were at school, the two of you were supposed to be having another date tonight. Right now it was your free period, usually you would go to the library to either read or catch up on work but the library was currently closed for the day seeing as the librarian had to leave early. It was too cold to go outside seeing as it was transitioning from fall into winter. So you decided you would go to your dads classroom seeing as his office is connected to the room and you knew he would let you chill in his office while he taught his class, what you didn’t know was that Stiles was in that current class.

You walk through the halls of the school, bag over one of your shoulders. Your phone in your hand with headphones connected to your phone and one of the buds in your ear.

When you make it to your dads classroom you bring your hand up and knock on the door. He opens the door and looks down at you with a confused expression “what are you doing here?” he asks, not rudely or in his usual tone of voice but in pure confusion and slight worry which shocks the other students, never having heard him using an abnormal tone of voice on a student.

Bobby steps aside and lets you walk in even further slightly. Upon seeing your frame Stiles perks up, a smile immediately casted onto his face and his curiosity spiked. “Free period and library’s closed. Can I chill in your office?” you ask your dad, slightly stepping further into the classroom, avoiding looking at any of the other students. “yeah go ahead” he looks down at you a nods. He moves back towards the front of his desk while you walk past.

As you were walking you felt eyes on you. You were about to turn around when your dad speaks up. “Greenberg! Stop looking at my daughter!” he says harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut slightly and turn towards your dad with raised eyebrows. Still feeling eyes on you, you turn your head slightly and see Stiles looking ahead at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. At further notice everyone in the classroom was looking between you and your dad in shock, well except for Greenberg, he had his head down after your dad’s comment.

“shes your daughter?” Stiles says loudly in shock, his finger pointing at you. His mouth was open in a jaw dropping way and his eyes were wide. You take a deep breath and walk into your dads office, ignoring the eyes of your fellow students and more importantly Stiles

It was now the end of the school day and you were getting longer stares from students, clearly word had gotten around. You truly didn’t care but now everyone would be questioning why neither of you said anything.

And let’s just say you were slightly avoiding Stiles, well not really…you only avoided him after that class. You were now at your locker, packing up your school bag so you could head home when a presence is suddenly next to you. “Coach is your dad!?” the voice exclaims, breaking slightly at the end. You let out a breath and grab your bag, then closing your locker.

Stiles’s face was revealed once you closed your locker. His face was filled with pure shock, he looked at you as if you had two heads. Your lips press together into a thin line and your grip on your backpack adjusts. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I was going to I swear!” You try your best to reassure him.

His face confronts from shock and into confusion, looking at you with pulled eyebrows but his mouth still slightly open. “Wha- I just cant believe your Coaches daughter!” he exclaims loudly, everyone in the hall turns towards the two of you and in response to his loudness you raise a singular brow at him. He grimaces slightly “sorry” he whispers. “I just cant believe you, like you standing in front of me came from him, it makes no sense!” he exclaims, definitely more on the quieter side this time around.

You fight a smile on your face, Stiles always brought one to your face. When he sees you smiling a smile is immediately pushed onto his face as well. “Well I am” you respond quietly, looking up at him.

“And you know thats very scary but who cares?” Stiles shrugs, one of his hands coming up to grip onto his backpack strap. Your face lights up in response, you were scared he would want to see you anymore just because of who your dad is. You let out a small laugh at him saying your dad was scary but then you look up at him happily “so, our dates still on?” you ask, swaying your body lightly.

He pulls a face and looks at you as if you asked the dumbest question ever. “Are you serious? You’re the best girl ever of course I want to go on that date, you’re like amazing, your pretty, funny, kind, great clothes- Well uh um unless you dont want to go on the date which is totally-“ He rambles, moving his hands theatrically.

During his rambling you couldn’t help but smile. Sure the compliments weren’t out of this world creative or poetic but when you could tell they actually mean something from who they’re coming from means a lot. Before he could continue to ramble and stress about if you wanted to go on the date or not you bring your hand up and cover his mouth. “I want to go on the date, Stiles.” you assure him, nodding your head slightly with a smile

Stiles lets out a little nervous laugh and nods as you remove your hand from his face. He tucks one of his hands into his jean pocket and looks down at you bashfully “good, cause I was- am really excited about it” he tells you, bouncing on his feet lightly.

“me too” you respond, looking up at him with a matching smile.

It was now later in the day and you were ready for your date with Stiles. You were dressed in a cute turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans, Stiles said he was surprising you so you had no clue where the two of you were going.

Now, since the cat was out of the bag you didn’t see too much of a problem in the fact that your dad would indeed be home all night. So he would be here when Stiles picked you up and dropped you off, which was definitely nerve wracking knowing who your dad was and knowing how Stiles is, Oh! and the fact that your dad had no clue you were going on a date.

You were putting in your last earring when the doorbell rang, you quickly grab your jacket and throw it on, as well as grabbing your purse as you walk out of your bedroom. As you were walking down the steps you hear your fathers naturally loud voice ring out so you stop, not being seen by either of them. “What are you doing here Stilinski? and with flowers?”

“uh um your-“ before Stiles could even finish his sentence where he was going to tell Bobby the flowers were for you he jumps in.

“for me?” He asks dryly, knowing they weren’t for him yet at the same time not knowing they were for his daughter that was currently eavesdropping.

“Yeah! actually! As a thank you for being the best coach” Stiles stammers, pushing them forward and into your dad’s hands. From on top of the steps behind the wall you let out a giggle and finally decide to put Stiles out of him misery.

Your dad looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand then back up at an awkwardly smiling Stiles in pure confusion. Not a single thought in your dad’s brain or a feature in his face didn’t hold confusion.

You walk forward, now stepping in between the two boys. “Dad. Stiles and I are going on a date” you tell him confidently. To be sure to win your father over him you show him one of your award winning smiles that always had an effect on your dad.

“Stilinski? You’re going on a date with Stilinski? Actually no, my daughter’s going on a date?” Bobby exclaims, pointing his finger at each of you accordingly.

“yup” you say happily, popping the p

“oh god” Stiles whispers, silently praying for his safety

“since when do you go on dates?” Your dad asks uncomfortably yet in his usual stern voice. He didn’t like seeing his little girl grow up.

“since now, dad” you respond, quickly pulling him into a hug and pecking his cheek. “Make sure to put those in water!” you say hurriedly while grabbing Stiles’s hand and speed walking to his car

“Have her home by ten!” Your father exclaims, his hand holding the flowers raising and shaking sternly with his words.

“Yes Coach! Oh uh Sir!” Stiles exclaims back to him, clumsily almost tripping over his feet but your hold was there to balance him. He opens the door for you and lend you a hand to get inside before running around to the drivers side of his precious Rosco.

“At least it wasnt GreenBerg” Bobby mutters, running a hand over his face and through his hair as he closes the front door.

fuck around & find out

summary: y/n is curious to how aces devil fruit powers work

a/n: i wanted to do ace cuz first, uhmm that’s my man. and second!!! the vibes are sooo fall rn & i love the cold weather,,,, so enjoy <3

warnings: MDNI, pussy eating, backshots, cowgirl, soft!ace (i luv him)

☆彡

~

it’s the cold months on the ship that have you cravinggggg some warmth, whether that be from your heated blankets, your warm coffee in the mornings, or late night fires with the crew… you just loved the warmth, especially this time of year. the ocean was getting colder the more up north we sailed causing freezing mists to come up and hit the deck. you’ve been hanging around ace more often too, attracting to him like a moth to a lamp. while he was back on board, you took advantage of your friendly little flame~

you are laying together with ace all cuddled up and cozy in his bed, he has a campfire scented candle burning brightly in the corner of his room. admiring the man before you makes your tummy feel warm and nostalgic.

he has you so close, arms pressed side to side as you’re both laid against the pillows resting on the back of his headboard. one of his hands start to peak out of the blankets, he stretches his fingers before hyping you up, getting you ready for his next move. “mkay i call this,,,, wizard fingers.” you can never take him seriously, your cheeks are so sore from all the smiles he’s stolen from you. wizard fingers??? this can’t be real.

ace wiggles his fingers before you as you see each one of them ignite with small little flame. you giggle. “shouldn’t they be called lighter fingers? you literally look like you’re about to go burn a candle.” he groans next to you. “oh my god y/n. you didn’t let me finish!” you stare at his hands as he starts to manipulate each of the flames from his fingers.

he pulls four of them back into his fist leaving just his index finger ignited. the flame starts to form little letters. each flash was a letter from your name. flash. flash. flash. you smile even more, he’s such a dork.

“it’s pretty cool, i know.” he smirks “wasn’t like i was even practicing or anything.” you think he’s so full of himself but you can’t help but admire, he warms your heart. your cold hands are on his body as he still has you close. his powers are so interesting. all of this came from just eating a fruit? you can’t contain your thoughts as you think of all the possibilities, he’s so warm.

maybe it was the skin on skin that were feeding your delusions but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of what he feels like.

he tucks his hands back away under the covers moving to hold your hands in his. you still haven’t answered him, your mind was still deep in the clouds. “okay maybe i was practicing,, getting it legible was kinda hard.” he laughed and you felt his chest move against your arm. “hmm?” you recollect your thoughts. ace looks at you. “were you for real not listening, y/n. that was cool! right!?” he looks at you to make sure you are finding this entertaining. “ahh sorry just not thinking right haha-” you mumbled and he looked puzzled, he shifted under the blankets to wrap his arms around you and pull you in a hug. his chin rested on the top of your head. “what do you mean.” his body burned hotter trying to warm you up.

“jus thinking about you- err well your devil fruit powers.” you curse yourself. but glad that you’re faced with his chest instead so that he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face right now. he laughed at you again. “what’s so special y/n. i just get warm. ‘m happy you like it though.” his arms tighten around you, squeezing you softly. your tummy was doing flips again, the way he had a grip on you sent shivers to your core. the feeling of his firm, scorching arms had you craving more from him. you knew he was teasing you though. he always would, he knew how much you loved his fiery touch and playful behaviors.

you’re face to face with him again, seeing red flames in his eyes. heat spreads to your face as his eyes lock on yours, waiting for any reaction from you. you’re lips hesitate to speak. “you- you get warm… everywhere?” your eyes avoid his. his hand gripped your thighs right below your ass, softly tugging on you to get your leg wrapped around his torso. you feel his hot fingers brushing away the stray hairs that were messily covering your face. it burned hot. his face proved that he found your embarrassment amusing.

“wanna find out?”

~

ace kisses you softly. his hot hand reaching up the softness of your shirt and leading themselves to your perked nipple. his hands are so rough, much different than the way his lips feel. he kisses the side of your mouth and whispers softly to you, “you’re still so cold?” he giggles as he watches you squirm at his touch.

“ace, your portholes are open. it’s fucking cold in here.” you whine trying to keep his heated fingers on you. his amused grin has you needy and irritated. you reach for his hands again. “just a second babe, let’s get ya shirt off.” ace helps to fully undress you with sturdy hands. a shiver leaves your body, covering you in goose bumps as the cool sea breeze hits your skin. “i’ll getcha all warmed up baby.”

he takes his hands and starts massaging the creases of your hips. kneading and pulling on your plush skin, slowly working his tepid hands all the way up your torso. the heaviness in his touch relieved so much within you, moaning at his warmth and his strength. he is manhandling you with you such softness and love.

hot palms come up to cup under your breasts tenderly, dipping his head down and sucking against your pretty nubs. his tongue swirls around each one leaving a string of warm saliva connecting from your buds to his lips. “are we gettin there, pretty? how do you feel?” wanting more, you pull him so that his chest meets yours. he buries his face into your neck and softly suckles. his breaths are hot there. “m still cold ace, wanna feel you” you whine for him.

his lips curl into a smile against your skin, he knew exactly what you craved. “how do you want it angel?” his clothed thigh pushes against your needy cunt, collecting many fifty whines from you. his fire ignited something warm inside of you, you need it to burn brighter.

his body shuffles down the bed, inching his face to be face to face with your sleep shorts. ace wants your juices dripping down his face, seeing you twitch for him has him starving. impatiently, he removes your shorts and panties, tossing them to the floor. he takes your hands with his own while he plays with you devilishly with his tongue, squeezing your palms slightly when he feels you try to move away.

his tongue attached to you like a magnet, chasing every move, he wouldn’t let you get away. he squeezes your hands again, “that’s it baby, such a good girl.” his tongue drawing little clouds on your swollen clit. “doin so good, can’t get enough of ya y/n~” he gulps all of your juices, sucking you clean. “haah- fuck acee. mm so close.” the tip of his nose brushed against the point of your clit as he slid his lips to your weeping hole, drinking even more of you.

he flicks back and forth from your hole to your clit with his tongue. removing one of his hands from yours, he reaches for the plump of your thigh. he squeezed harshly, assuring you to cum for him. his tongue moved swiftly with your slick allowing you to reach your orgasm. “ace! ‘m cuh- cumming!! shiiit right there haa-“ the sight of his glistening face sent an aftershock to your cunt, his smirk was so sexy while he was covered with your juices.

ace’s cock ached in his boxers, there were little dark spots littered across the fabric from his precum. “can ya do one more for me baby doll?” whimpers leave your lips while your head slightly nodded for him. “you did so good fa me y/a~ now you ready to feel this dick cupcake?”

~

your pussy was already sopping for him but still there was a little resistance when he slid into you. ace moaned breathily at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. “fuuu- shit y/n- feel so fuckin good mmmf~” his hot hands pushed down on your low back as your pussy was busy sucking around his cock.

your eyes watered at the shear width of him, he was spreading your sore cunt so deliciously. you felt your second orgasm start to form within your overstimulated core. he reached your cervix with one final slow push. once fully fitted around his length, you fucked back on him, slowly grinding your ass against his hard thighs.

ace tried to muffle his moans with his hand but you stripped them from him, he couldn’t be quiet. his deep moans echoed in his small cabin, ricocheting deep in your pulsating cunt. you throbbed for him, he curved upwards directly hitting your sensitive spot. ace gripped both sides of your ass to speed up his pace. pulling you hard against his reckless thrusts. he was getting sloppy. each thrust was met with the clapping of your cheeks on him, he groaned with each contact hit.

“wanna look atcha-“ he flipped you around to face him. you whined at the sudden emptiness but sighed as he soon filled you back up again. “don’t worry mama, wasn’t gonna take it from you.”

his voice was going blurry in your ears, dick so good you’re hearing auditory hallucinations. he took hold of your hips again while you sat on top of him, he rocks against you slowly.

you miss his mouth, his warmth~ wanna taste him again. your arms detach from his shoulders to hang loose around his neck, forehead rested against his while he fucks up into you. you’re ready, you wanna cum around him. pussy numb from feeling his tip abuse your cervix. “mm so close ace, please fuck me-” nonsense spilling from your lips, he is fucking you dumb.

your eyes are heavy as you try to line your lips up with his, drool sliding around both of your faces. he connects with you and sucks feverishly on your swollen lips. ace begins to pull you up and down on his veiny cock, bouncing you sporadically. the tightness in your eyes not helping you postpone your orgasm. “mmm ahh huhh- f-fuckk gonna- agh i’m cumming baby!!!!” the pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, it’s almost too much. your legs start to tremble as you effortlessly squeeze and clench around his width. “fuck cum in me ace- warm me up~” your wall’s are contracting around his poor, twitching cock while you milk him~ his breaths were shaky and irregular as he chased his own release.

“y/nnn-“ his husky voice filled your ears as you saw him cum inside of you. hips shuttering as his orgasm strikes him. pretty black hair sticking to the beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, his eyes tightened as he grunted out your name a few more times. glistening before you, he looked so ethereal..

~

* we are cuddling and warm and soo in luv !!! *

Anniversaries

The Bradfords Series Masterlist (6/?)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader

Summary: As a difficult anniversary approaches, Tim struggles to deal with his past. Torn between giving into his desire for you and remaining strong, he puts everyone on edge before he finds the perfect place to heal.

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: Catch the song reference and I’ll give you a cookie.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Tim,” you call, taking quick steps to catch up with him. When he stops and turns toward you, you tip your head toward a nearby door. “Do you have a second?”

Tim nods once, then tells Lucy to get the war bags and ready the shop. He spreads his hand across your back and leads you into the empty office.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, his arms stiff by his sides.

You don’t answer. Raising your arms, you move closer to Tim. As you wrap him in a hug and press your chest to his, you can feel him tense beneath you. Then, nearly as quickly, he relaxes, seeming to melt into your touch.

“Breathe,” you encourage, measuring your own breaths. “You’re here, Tim. Everything’s okay.”

Tim nods, but when he wraps his arms around your waist and clings to you, you know he needs more. In the time you’ve known Tim, you’ve learned his cues. Since you got married, you’ve developed a system for doing what you can to help him in moments like this. Though it seemed harder than learning to decipher his needs, you have also discovered what you should avoid. Some days, Tim can’t handle touch, but right now, the trauma his mind is cruelly reminding him of makes him need you, even if he’s too proud to ask.

You remove one hand from Tim, bring it to your collar, and unbutton the top three buttons on your uniform. Carefully, you pull one of Tim’s hands off your side and guide it beneath your shirt. His palm spreads across your chest, warm and steady against your skin.

“You’re home, Tim,” you whisper.

“I… Thank you,” Tim replies.

You nod. Tim stays in place for several breaths, then brushes his thumb over your collarbone before he steps back.

“You know where to find me,” you remind him. “Don’t bury it.”

“I’ll try.”

Tim leads you out of the office, and you straighten your shirt as you walk toward the garage. Lucy smiles when she sees you, and you wave to her. Watching Tim get in the driver’s seat, you wish you could do more.

“Do you think your future kid will want to be a cop?” Lucy inquires.

Tim doesn’t reply. His eyes are steady on the road ahead, his shoulders are tense and drawn up, and his eyes are puffy.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks softly. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Not important,” Tim murmurs in reply.

“Okay. Just let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Tim clenches his jaw but nods. He couldn’t help himself then, so why would he ask for help now?

You wake just after 2 a.m., rubbing your eyes as you yawn. The bed shifts, and for a fleeting moment, you think it’s an earthquake.

“S’a trap,” Tim mumbles.

He flips onto his back, pulling the sheets around his legs. You shift, sitting up as you wait. Some nights, his nightmares pass without a problem. He never talks about them, and you don’t press him too. But, on the other nights – the bad nights – you have to pull Tim back from the battlefield in his mind.

“Tim,” you whisper.

He shakes his head against his pillow.

“Tim,” you repeat louder.

“Too late,” he says in his restless sleep.

“Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim grumbles as his eyes blink open slowly. He sees you, and the tension in his shoulders lessens.

“I’m sorry,” you offer.

“Sorry I woke you,” Tim replies.

“Do you need anything?”

Shaking his head, Tim declines. His hand moves toward yours, and the soft smile you send him acts as a promise that you won’t lead his side. Tim has trauma, and he understands that it will continue to affect him for the rest of his life. You understand just as well because you know what it’s like. Being together, you have a support system – even if it relies on someone who isn’t always emotionally available and gives more terse nods than verbal affirmations. But it works. You work.

Since you got married, you’ve learned that nights are worse for Tim. When he deals with nightmares, you hold him when you can and give him space when he needs it.

“Friday will be twenty years,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence around you.

You don’t respond, giving him the space to think and talk as he needs to. Anniversaries are stressful, especially when it comes to milestones. Twenty years is a long time to be stuck in a vicious cycle, damned to relive your nightmares forever.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Tim admits, leaning against the headboard.

“It’s a Sisyphean task,” you remind him. “But you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s… it’s heavier now.”

“Don’t let it drag you down.”

Tim nods, then raises his arm. You move closer to him, leaning toward him. With your head on his chest and your hand against his stomach, you find comfort in your husband’s presence as you attempt to ground him and bring him back to this moment.

“Get some sleep,” Tim urges.

“Only if you do, too,” you stipulate.

You can feel your blinks slowing, and Tim’s heartbeat in your ear and warmth beneath you threaten to pull you under.

“I’m right behind you,” Tim whispers.

He feels your breaths even out, then drops his chin to press a kiss against the top of your head. When Tim first met you, he saw your potential. Then, he saw your heart and someone he could love. After you married, Tim realized that you’re his salvation. This life is an anchor holding him down, but you keep him above the water when his inner critic tells him to give up and sink to the bottom. You saved Tim Bradford, yet he hesitates to share his past with you because if it’s too heavy for him to bear, why would he weigh down the one good thing he has left?

Your trauma and the long-term effects manifest uniquely. As do Tim’s. On the day of the twentieth anniversary, the morning after you fell asleep on Tim’s chest, giving him a moment of clarity and peace, Tim feels all of it. He hasn’t been sleeping well, he is under a tremendous amount of stress, and his past has gone from weighing him down to eating away at him. Everything is at risk, but Tim can’t show how much he’s affected. Sighing, he exits the locker room and encourages himself to keep everything inside for one more day. One more shift, and then he can decide to face this head-on or hide in the privacy of his shared home with you.

“Can I give him a warning?” Lucy asks during a traffic stop. “He’s trying to get to his favorite restaurant to catch up with his friends; he’s been out of town for a few months.”

“Then the ten minutes added by going the speed limit shouldn’t make a difference,” Tim snaps. “Ticket.”

“But Tim-“

“Ticket,” Tim repeats sternly. “Stop buying their sob stories, Officer Chen.”

Lucy inhales but nods and says, “Yes, sir,” before she returns to the car.

Lucy deals with Tim in the best and worst moods, but this differs. She takes his aggressive comments in stride, but after an hour of being so close to Tim’s bad mood, she feels as burdened as he does. She’s watching her steps rather than where she’s going, and if Tim were present enough to notice, he’d have something worth reprimanding.

“Shut up,” Tim demands, glancing at the suspect in the back of the shop.

“Lawyer!” the woman replies.

“You’ll get one when we get to the station.”

“I know my rights!”

“Then please invoke the one to remain silent, before I-“

“Officer Bradford,” Lucy interrupts. “Stop.”

Tim looks at Lucy as he slows to turn. His glare causes her to apologize, but he doesn’t say anything else to the perp behind him.

While Tim books the woman, Lucy watches the bullpen. You arrive as Tim fights to get her fingerprints, and Lucy rushes to meet you.

“Officer Bradford!” she calls.

“Hey, Lucy,” you greet, looking up from a folder. “How are you?”

“Uh, I’m fine. I wanted to ask how Tim is, though. He seems… off. Is he okay?”

You close the folder and see Tim through the clear glass pane separating you. His shoulders are so tense you can see the muscles through his uniform. Shaking your head, you wonder what he’s done or said today to make Lucy so concerned.

“He will be,” you answer. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s done.”

“Oh, it’s fine.”

“I’d do something if I could, but he’s- you know. He’s working through some stuff on his own, and I can’t make that go faster.”

“I get it,” Lucy assures you. “Thanks.”

“Chen!” Tim yells from the doorway. “Let’s go!”

He sees you, and when you smile, his eyes soften. But as Lucy passes him and his mind returns to work, his gaze shifts again. You pull your radio from your belt and ask dispatch to alert you of any calls Tim accepts.

“7-Adam-19 responding to a 242 call on Wilshire,” dispatch alerts.

“Code 1,” you reply. “Responding Code 2.”

You pull in behind Tim’s shop and exit your vehicle. Then, you hear yelling. Keeping close to Tim’s vehicle, you anticipate seeing an active battery, with your husband and his rookie in the middle. Yet, the silhouette of someone in the backseat of the shop tells a different story.

At the front bumper, Tim and Lucy are face-to-face.

“Because that is not your job!” Tim yells.

“You’d be just as mad if I didn’t!” Lucy counters.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask, moving toward Tim.

“You’re going to get yourself or someone else killed, Chen! You do not want that on your conscience!” Tim continues.

“I will worry about my conscience.”

“Did you think that maybe I don’t want your blood on my hands?!”

“Whoa,” you say, pushing between Tim and Lucy. You place a hand on Tim’s chest and push him until he steps back. “Stop.”

“I’m not sure my boot knows the meaning of that word,” Tim exclaims.

“Officer Bradford,” you interject. “Stand down.”

He looks at your face, then down to your hand on his chest. He nods once and steps back, letting your hand fall.

“Lucy, take this guy to booking,” you instruct. “I’ll alert Grey that you’re returning without your TO. You may get desk duty, but I can’t change that, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Lucy murmurs, walking around the shop to avoid going past Tim.

After she pulls away, you turn off your body camera and call Sergeant Grey. You explain that you’re bringing your equipment back to the station but need some personal time this afternoon. As does Tim. With his permission, you end the call and rub your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Tim offers.

You show him your hands, then pull his body cam off his chest. As you climb into the driver’s seat, he collapses into the passenger seat and stares at the floorboard. You knew Tim would explode if he bottled everything up. You didn’t expect him to do it on Lucy, the boot he cares for, even if he’s terrified of admitting it.

The drive back to the station is silent, and when you lead Tim into your home, you find your place in the kitchen and give Tim all the space he needs. It is his decision whether to leave or be alone for the rest of the day, and you allow him every opportunity to make it.

Tim returns from the bedroom dressed in an old Dodgers t-shirt. He stops by the door, and you look up from the cookie dough on the counter. You'd be touching if you both extended your arms, but it feels like miles between you. You assume there will be miles soon.

But, as you prepare to tell Tim to be careful wherever he’s planning to go, he steps forward. Tim closes the distance, waiting at your side. You wipe your hands on a nearby towel before you turn toward your husband. When you look up at him, he moves forward another inch. His eyes are red and glassy, and the tension you noticed in his muscles earlier today is gone. Tim looks deflated as if he’s moments from giving up and letting the pain consume him.

So, you do what you know he’s inviting you to do. You wrap your arms around him, holding him up. Slowly, you lead him to the couch, and he sits beside you, content in your arms.

“I came by here to get lunch yesterday,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along Tim’s back. “Kojo was asleep in his bed when I came in, so I tried to stay quiet and not disturb him.”

Tim shifts in your holds, clinging to you as he presses his face against your chest. He clings to you like you are the only thing holding him together.

“The second I opened the fridge, it was like he teleported,” you continue, smiling. “He was just there, looking up at me and waiting for food.”

Tim exhales, and you can feel the tension in his back release. The cords of his muscles seem to unwind as he relaxes against you. In your embrace, the pain fades, driven away by your kindness and love, as your arms act as shields around him. Rather than the racing memories of heartbreak and devastation, Tim refocuses, and he sees you. He listens to your story of Kojo, which is meant to distract him, and sees his family.

“You,” Tim mumbles against your shoulder.

“Hmm?” you hum, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

Tim pulls back, keeping his hands on your waist, tucked beneath your shirt. “You make the pain go away,” he confesses. “In your arms, my mind quiets. Nothing else is like this feeling.”

You smile, slipping your hand along his shoulder before you trace the top of his pec. Tim sits up, his eyes clearing as he sees you. Gently, he removes his hands from your stomach and holds your face. He leans forward and kisses you, and every touch communicates his gratitude. Tim may not offer endless praise or deliver romantic speeches, but there is no doubt that you are loved and appreciated and that Tim needs you.

The following morning, you meet Tim and Lucy in the bullpen after roll call. His mood has improved, thanks to you and a new morning. Lucy looks between you carefully, and when you smile, she perks up.

“Tim,” she says. “I was going to ask you yesterday, but… Anyway, do you need a hug?”

Tim looks at you, his eyes shouting that he loves you. He glances at Lucy and deadpans, “Not unless you want your arm dislocated.”

“Be nice,” you chide.

“Yeah, Dad, be nice,” Lucy echoes.

“You didn’t call me Dad yesterday,” Tim realizes.

“Well, you probably scared her,” you interject.

“Mom’s right,” Lucy says. “You really should be nicer to me. You’re trying too hard to act like you don’t like me. Which we both know isn’t true, because you really love me, way deep down.”

Tim rolls his eyes. You step past him, brushing your fingers against his hand. Tim nods once when you look over your shoulder to wish them a good day. Another unspoken promise.

“You guys do know I can see all of that, right?” Lucy whispers.

“Fifty pushups,” Tim replies.

“But it’s cute! It’s not a bad thing,” she defends.

“One hundred.”

“Dad-“

“Two hundred.”

Strong Enough

0.8k+ fluffy words of Karadec getting fed up and proving you wrong. (it's not a prank blurb but it is a from a trend so I'm tagging it the same!)

The Major Crimes unit is silent. It’s disturbing and unsettling, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat while waiting for someone to make a noise.

“Is Soto back?” Oz whispers.

Daphne shakes her head no, then taps her mouse to check if the computers are back up. “We’re still dark,” she replies softly. “So… what’s the worst date you’ve been on recently?”

You don’t have to see Karadec to know he’s rolling his eyes. Still, you smile at the distraction and move closer to Oz and Daphne’s back-to-back desks.

“I haven’t been on one in a while,” Oz says. “But a few months back, she asked me to get her an Uber to her backup date.”

“Oh, no,” Daphne exclaims with a laugh.

“That’s awful,” you agree. “She didn’t have to tell you where she was going.”

“No, she really felt like she needed to,” he explains. “What about you, Daph?”

“Went on a second date with a guy and he asked what kind of wine I wanted and then ordered something completely different.”

“Don’t tell me he pulled the I’m paying and I’m sure you’ll like it,” you ask, pinching your brows sympathetically.

“Better. He told me that my palette wasn’t refined and offered to help with that.”

“Gross,” you and Oz respond simultaneously.

“I went on a date last week, and he offered me his jacket,” you offer.

“That’s sweet,” Oz argues.

“It didn’t fit, so he asked if I was working to lose any weight so I could wear his clothes if things got serious.”

Daphne’s jaw drops as her brows rise, and Oz shakes his head.

“Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever dated a guy whose clothes I could wear. Let alone one who could lift me or anything. I’m not sure they exist in my circle.”

Karadec scoffs, and you turn in your seat to look at him.

“What?” you inquire.

“Nothing, just working,” he answers, opening a file.

“Sure. What’s the worst date you’ve been on?”

“Nothing as bad as this moment.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” you stage-whisper over your shoulder to Daphne.

“You work with cops, there’s fifteen gyms within a mile radius,” Karadec explains, “so you must be choosing the wrong men.”

“Okay, one, the cops I actually work with day-to-day are mostly desk jockeys. No offense, Oz.”

“None taken,” he interjects.

“And two, Karadec, I’m not going to go hang out beside a gym to get some testosterone-fueled meathead just because he can pick me up. I’m saying realistically, naturally, in everyday life, I don’t know anyone who could just romantically manhandle me for the sake of it.”

“Romantically manhandle?” Morgan repeats, incredulous, as she enters the bullpen. “What am I interrupting?”

“Detective over here thinks there are no men in Los Angeles who could lift her onto their shoulder,” Karadec explains flatly.

“Ooh, like the video?” Morgan inquires, pulling a chair to your side. “Ava has shown me a few, they’re cute. Not so much when the scrawny-armed boys don’t succeed, but still.”

“We’re not going to get any work done today, are we?” Karadec inquires.

“Not with Soto busy and the system down,” Daphne reminds him. “So, try to let loose for a few minutes, would you?”

“You really don’t know anyone who could do it?” Morgan asks.

“Nope,” you answer. “Not for lack of trying, contrary to what Karadec will tell you.”

“Tell her about the jacket guy,” Oz encourages.

Karadec stands and gestures for you to do the same.

“Fine, we’ll change the subject,” you sigh.

“Stand up,” he demands.

Morgan moves her seat back as you stand, and Karadec steps closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, bends slightly, and then your feet are off the floor. You clutch his wrist at your side as he effortlessly lifts you onto his shoulder. From the elevated position, you look down at him with wide eyes.

Carefully, Karadec lowers you back to the floor and removes his hand from your side. He raises his hands to his sides and asks, “Happy now?”

Before you can answer him, Lieutenant Soto returns.

“Are workplace crushes frowned upon?” you ask her.

“Shut up,” Karadec grumbles as he returns to his desk and retrieves hand sanitizer from his drawer.

“What did I miss?” Soto asks, looking between you and Karadec.

“Oh, we can’t explain what just happened,” Oz muses.

“Luckily, I filmed it,” Daphne announces, raising her phone.

“You did not,” Karadec snaps, spinning to face her.

“She did!” Morgan answers, smiling brightly, as she watches the screen over Daphne’s shoulder. “And right… there is the moment she falls in love.”

Karadec shakes his head, and you murmur, “I was kidding. I know it doesn’t mean anything.”

He tips his head to the left, then nods and reboots his computer. “Of course not,” he replies, though it’s the least convincing you’ve ever heard him sound.

Sleeves

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: Deacon's son Sam loves giving you temporary tattoos. When Deacon comes home to find you with a full sleeve of them, he admits he could get used to seeing you like this.

Warnings/Word Count: 1.6k+ words of fluff (in which Deac flirts a lot)

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You step out of the car and sigh. It’s been a long day; you’re tired, stressed, and want to decompress. Before you move toward your door, someone calls your name.

“Sam!” you reply, smiling brightly as you lower to hug him.

“I brought you something,” he mumbles, reaching into his pockets.

“I wonder what it is,” you muse lightly. “Can you give me a hint?”

“No!” he exclaims with a laugh.

After another round of checking his pockets, he withdraws a small square of white cardstock with a plastic film over it. The temporary tattoos have become an inside joke between you and Samuel Kay. Since you did his dad Deacon a favor several months ago and babysat the boys and Lila while he embarked on a late-night raid, you’ve been the happy recipient of more tattoos than you can count. You’ve borne firetrucks, robots, planets, and animals on your skin. Deacon saw the first one, but you’re not sure if he knows that his son enjoys giving you tattoos nearly as much as he enjoys receiving them himself.

“Sam!” Deacon calls, walking into your yard. “What did I tell you about speaking to ladies?”

“Right,” Sam says, pinching his brows as he stands up straighter. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing well, Mr. Kay, thank you. How are you?”

“Better when I give tattoos,” he answers honestly.

Deacon shakes his head, and you thank Sam for the dog tattoo he gives you.

“How are you, older Mr. Kay?” you ask Deacon.

Sam looks between you and his dad, then returns to his brother and sister. You watch him go, smiling at his joy.

“Better when I see you,” Deacon answers.

“You’re teaching your children to be flirts, you know that, right?”

Deacon shrugs. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

“My team was invited to an event the mayor is hosting. It’s tomorrow night and my usual babysitters aren’t available on such short notice.”

“I can absolutely watch the kids for you,” you offer. “As long as I can order them pizza.”

“Pizza!” Matthew shouts.

“They’d love that,” Deacon says, shaking his head. “Thank you. I can pay you or find another way to thank you.”

“Flirt,” you exclaim softly.

“You’ve done a lot for us,” Deacon explains. “Made this transition to single parenting easier. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“You deserve it all and more, Deacon. I’ll see you tomorrow, what time?”

“5?”

“See you at 5,” you promise. “Thanks, Sam!” you call. “Hi, Lila, hey, Matthew!”

They stop playing long enough to wave, and as you walk into your home with the smile only Deacon can bring you, you wonder if Deacon has any idea that you are the lucky one in this arrangement.

“Uncle Luca got it for me,” Sam explains after his dad leaves.

You’d had trouble speaking to Deacon before his teammate Street picked him up. With his form-fitting dark suit on, he’d been more attractive than usual, and your eyes and brain were working overtime.

“Very cool,” you tell Sam, looking at the oversized tattoo booklet with him. “Which one do you want to do first?”

Sam hums as he flips the page, and you stifle a laugh when you realize that he’s acting exactly like Deacon. He reaches a page of tattoos that are all pink and purple. He hesitates, then looks at your arm.

“Can I give you some?” Sam asks.

You shrug before you answer, “Sure. Whatever you want, bud.”

While Deacon regrets leaving you and his kids when he could have stayed home or brought you, you realize that giving Sam permission to do whatever he wants might not have been your best idea.

Deacon’s tie is loosened at his neck when he enters his home. The time with his team was enjoyable, but the night felt long, and he was distracted. By you, even though you were miles away.

“Hello?” Deacon calls softly. “Anyone home?”

“In here!” Lila replies.

Deacon smiles as he follows her voice to the living room. You’re lying on the center cushion of the couch with Sam asleep against your side, Lila lying across your legs, and Matthew fighting to stay awake as he watches an animated movie play on the television screen.

“Thank you,” Deacon whispers.

Half an hour later, he’s carried his children to bed, tucked them in, and wished them goodnight. You’ve straightened up the small mess you made during dinner when he returns to the kitchen. The urge to wrap his arms around your waist and hold you tight startles Deacon, but he realizes quickly that he should’ve seen it coming.

“We had a lot of fun,” you tell Deacon. “Thanks for letting me hang out with my favorite neighbors.”

Deacon smiles, dipping his chin in a way that makes your heart flutter. He pauses, tipping his head to the side as he looks at your arm. Reminiscent of an intrigued puppy, he gently reaches for your arm and lifts it in front of you.

“Nice sleeve,” he muses after a moment.

You laugh at his teasing, unconsciously leaning against him as he traces his fingers beneath a few tattoos, his touch featherlight yet addictive and enlivening.

“I like it,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

Deacon trails his fingers down your arm, then links his fingers in yours to hold your hand.

“How was the thing with the mayor?” you whisper.

“Something was missing,” Deacon admits, using your joined hands to guide you closer.

“You’re jealous of my sweet tats,” you joke softly. “They would look good with your suit.”

Deacon nods, clearly not listening to you. He lifts his other hand to hold the back of your head before he tilts your head, gentle in his movements as he guides you into the perfect position.

“I could get used to it,” Deacon says.

“It?” you repeat, glancing down at his lips.

“Coming home to you, seeing you with my kids, watching Sam cover you in tattoos.”

“I could get used to it, too,” you whisper.

That’s all Deacon needs to hear, and he closes the distance between you. He holds you gently, lovingly, and reverently. Deacon makes the world around you disappear. In this moment, you know him and him alone. Then, he spreads his palm over your tattooed bicep and traces an already flaking mark that sends shivers down your spine.

Three months after Deacon first kissed you in his darkened kitchen, you find yourself against his side during a movie night. Samuel is drawing on your arm with skin-safe markers and a printed picture, but you’re not allowed to look until he’s finished because he wants to surprise you. Lila’s hair remains in braids after your girls’ lunch earlier today. This feels like home. Like you’re where you’re supposed to be.

“Looks good, Sam,” Deacon says, his chest moving against your back as he speaks.

“Can I look yet?” you request.

Sam caps a marker, then nods and bends your arm so you can see it. The flowers and shapes lining the top and bottom of your forearm are messy in the most perfect way, but it’s the handwritten note that catches your attention. Sam tried hard, and from how slowly he moved the marker along your skin, you know he was copying his dad’s handwriting.

“Thank you, Sam,” you say before you turn to face Deacon. “Yes,” you tell him, smiling brightly as you reach for him.

Deacon smiles, pleased by your answer to Sam’s tattooed ‘Will you be Daddy’s girlfriend?’ tattoo. “Nice sleeve,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest to kiss you.

“Which one?” Lila asks, holding up two temporary tattoos.

You point to the one on the right: two interlocked rings. Your arm has slowly become covered from your shoulder to your wrist. With less than thirty minutes until you walk down the aisle to marry Deacon, you already know his reaction will be great.

Lila takes your unmarked hand, and you smile as you look down at her. She looks adorable in her dress, and how she looks at you like she loves you and the life you’re creating for her with Deacon makes your heart thump harder in your chest.

“Can I call you Mom now?” she asks.

You fight the tears threatening to build in your eyes, unwilling to disturb your makeup. “If- if you want to, Lila, of course you can.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she says.

She skips toward the small table by your vanity table and takes a mint as if she didn’t just change your entire life with a single word. Luca knocks on your door and smiles at you before he tells you it’s time to take your place at the end of the aisle.

Deacon’s eyes are on you the moment you come into view. His gaze drops to your arm, but then he sees you. His eyes are watery when you reach the altar, and you shake your head as a warning not to cry.

“That’s my favorite sleeve yet,” Deacon tells you before the ceremony begins.

As your reception closes, and only your closest friends and family remain, you hold a sleeping Sam in your arms, and Deacon spins Lila around the dance floor. You're in your new life now, your family. If every moment feels half as perfect as this – temporary tattoo sleeve or you as you are – then you can never ask for anything more.

Bonus:

“So, what are you planning to do with your dress?” Deacon asks.

You look up from your phone, where you’d been scrolling through crafts to preserve your wedding decorations. “One side of my dress is covered with temporary tattoo stains,” you remind him. “I’m going to treasure that forever.”

“We can just give you new tattoos next time you want to ruin an outfit,” Deacon points out. “Or when we get back from the honeymoon, or when-“

“I get it,” you interrupt. “You like the sleeves.”

“Yeah, I do. But I love the girl under them.”

Welcome in Barber's Production! Beforehand the stories are connected but only by characters meaning that you can read them as standalone.

Every star has their own masterlist which will be added after their first fic is posted! (the first fic will be Lloyd and dropped 28th August 2022).

dividers by @firefly-graphics / other actors will be mentioned and in the future added! all readers are female!!!

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑

CEO; founded the production, his friends were his firsr stars

Kinks: daddy, praise, breeding, cream pie, house wife, degrading, spanking, general authority kink — DOM

Acting: since founding

pairing: pornstar!ceo!andy barber × darling!publisher!reader

𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍

Kinks: choking/gagging, degrading, bdsm, spanking, knife/gun, anal, pain, bondage — DOM (can be switch)

Acting: since the beginning

pairing: pornstar!lloyd hansen × sunshine!pornstar!reader

𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

Kinks: size, manhandling, innocence, dumbification, anal, spitting, possesive, brat taming, daddy, corruption — DOM

Acting: since the beginning

Pairing: pornstar!ari levinson × jellybean!pornstar!reader

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄

Kinks: mommy, overstimulation, squirting, nipple play, creampie, thigh riding — SWITCH (mostly dom)

Acting: two years after founding

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐏

Kinks: biting, chasing, face riding, face fucking, slapping/spanking, pain kink humiliation, pussy worship, bondage — DOM

Acting: one year after founding

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐑

Kinks: bondage, orgasm denial/edging, spanking, dumbification, pain kink, degrading, slapping — DOM

Acting: three years after founding

𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒

Kinks: pussy eating, pussy/body worship, degrading, praise, daddy, breeding, spanking, overstimulation, cream pie, choking, possesive, dry humping everything, fingering, mommy — DOM

Acting: one year after founding

Creepy, But Special

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x goth!fem!ME!reader

Summary: Tim sees a woman in a cemetery after dark and can't stop thinking about you. When he calls for the M.E. and you arrive, he gets a chance to find out more about you.

Warnings: spoilers for 5x22, r is an ME and performs an autopsy, mentions of past judgement and insults, fluff, Tim gets kinda flirty even while there's a dead body between them?

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: The request said shy reader, but she's pretty open with Tim so I didn't include it in the pairing dynamic. R is very professional with the other characters, though, so that could be considered shy, I think. And, as always, ignore the Chenford gif🤭

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Kojo, c’mon,” Tim urges as Kojo tugs the leash away from Tim.

Kojo has been taking his time on this walk, more of a stroll to sniff everything than a walk, but Tim is ready to get home. When Kojo returns to Tim’s side and begins trotting again, Tim rewards him with a whispered compliment: “There’s the best boy.”

As they near a cemetery, however, a cat meows inside the open gate, causing Kojo to stop again. Tim shakes his head but watches Kojo as his ears perk, and he looks into the narrow gate opening.

“No, Bazinga,” someone says from inside the fence. The cat meows again, and this time the voice - pretty voice, Tim’s mind corrects – laughs. “How are you going to do a séance if you can’t talk, Bazinga?”

Tim and Kojo step to the inside edge of the sidewalk for a better view. Tim should know better than to let his guard down here, but when he realized that the creepy cemetery cat had supervision, he needed to know more. Standing at the fence, he can see a gray blanket spread across a small clearing. You’re sitting on the blanket with a large book open across your lap. A black cat, Bazinga, presumably, roams around you before jumping onto your shoulder.

Tim can’t help but be intrigued by you. He can tell you're young in the dim light of a nearby streetlight. While he’s simultaneously drawn to you and put off by your odd choice about where you relax, Tim lets his logic win and snaps for Kojo to heel beside him. With one final glance at you, Tim leaves you in the dark but remembers your voice long after you ask your cat, “What do you think about the black cat stereotype and how well you fit into it?”

When Tim wakes the following morning, his first thought is you. Part of him wonders if he imagined you, a young woman dressed in black reading in a cemetery in the middle of the night, yet he can’t get you off his mind even as he rises and gets ready for work. Now that overtime has been approved, he has to focus on catching the masked individuals who attacked Aaron and Celina just hours after he saw you.

Once he hears Aaron and Celina’s statuses, it’s easier to forget you and your cat. When they find Roy Gracco and prepare to enter his house, Tim doesn’t even remember his previous cemetery-side walk.

Tim leads the alpha team into Gracco’s home, prepared for anything, but is surprised to find the house clear and cold.

“Drop the gun! Drop it!” he demands as he rounds a corner.

“I think he’s dead,” Nolan calls.

Tim approaches him slowly and confirms that Gracco is dead, 10-5-5.

“It’s a trap,” Nolan realizes aloud.

“Abort! Abort! Abort!” Tim yells. As he exits Gracco’s house, he radios, “Control, I need the bomb squad to the target house for a full sweep. Send the M.E. and TID out here, standing by for a priority search once the house is clear.”

“Yep, got it,” you reply to the police dispatcher.

Your work phone buzzes with a message containing the address where you’re needed. The van is prepped and ready to go, so you only grab your phone, keys, and seal-wrapped black coveralls. When you arrive at the house, dozens of police officers, crime scene investigators, and city officials are waiting.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask as you approach him. “Has the house been cleared?”

“Almost. Bomb squad’s doing a final walk-through,” he answers. “The officers who found the body are inside and ready to assist you.”

“Dispatch said the air had been cranked down to delay decomp. Do you know if anyone touched the thermostat?”

“No. Sergeant Bradford made sure the house stayed in the same condition as how they found it.”

“Perfect.”

“All clear,” one of the bomb squad members calls as he exits. “Your people are free to enter.”

“Hold up,” Grey calls to TID. “Let the M.E. get what she needs first.”

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder as you approach the front door.

“Hi, I’m Officer Chen,” an officer greets you as you enter. “Bradford, M.E.’s here.”

“Sergeant Bradford, I hear you preserved the scene and the body. Thanks,” you tell him as you set your bag down.

Tim doesn’t reply, too intrigued that you, a woman who hangs out in cemeteries with her black cat, is the M.E. That and your age, to be more precise.

“What’s the temperature in here?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Fifty-eight,” he answers quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughts and reminding himself not to stare.

“Fifty-eight,” you murmur as you scribble something on your paper. “Then I’m putting time of death between 1 and 2 a.m.”

“Before Aaron and Celina were ambushed,” Lucy says.

“How can you limit it to an hour?” Tim asks. Not because he’s overly interested in your method but because everything you say and do interests him. He wants to hear you talk again. To him, preferably.

“The air temperature and confinement slowed decomp but also affected the blood coagulation. Because of that, and knowing the average maintained temperature since death, I can calculate it with a bit more accuracy,” you explain.

Tim nods and looks at Lucy, who seems to know why he took a sudden interest in forensic science. He has a dozen more questions he’d like to ask you, very few of which are about the case, but you frighten Tim Bradford just enough that he falls silent to let you work.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say suddenly.

“Is everything okay?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, just this little guy.” You straighten and extend your hand to show Tim a moderately large spider. “There’s a web in that windowsill, he must have been confused by the temperature drop.”

You cup your hand as you walk toward the window and gently place the spider back on its web. Tim watches every little move you make, trying not to be convinced that you were in a cemetery and are still dressed in black merely because you’re creepy.

“So, based on positioning, lividity, and blood coagulation around the wound in his hand, I’m confident that my estimate of 1 to 2 a.m. today is accurate. More, I’d say that he was unconscious when both the bullets and the knife entered his body. There’s no sign of jerking or resisting, and the stiffness in his spine suggests that he’s been positioned like this for closer to a day.”

“A day?” Tim repeats. “How could he be in one position for nearly ten hours before being shot and stabbed?”

“Was he alive when he was stabbed?” Lucy inquires.

“Yes,” you answer her. “He didn’t react in any way to that pain and the lack of naturally dried blood around the wound, so he was likely already in a state of statis. His heart rate was likely low, the temperature was impeding the healing process, and, as I’m sure you know, bullet wounds don’t close on their own.”

“Then why lead us here?” Tim wonders.

“This is related to the cops that were attacked this morning?” you ask. “I heard about the riddle.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Tim asks.

“I don’t think you’ll find much in this house other than him.”

“I agree.”

“If Gracco is a patsy,” Lucy interjects, “then we should be asking why him?”

“He’s a felon with a history at Mid-Wilshire,” Grey answers as he walks in.

“Sure, but there are hundreds of guys like that. So, why Gracco? Did they pull his name out of a database or is there some kind of connection?”

“You think it’s personal?” Tim asks.

“Look, if I was gonna go to the extreme of targeting police officers, why not take out some of my enemies along the way?”

“That’s gotta count as a goth point,” you murmur.

“Costs us nothing to run with that,” Grey points out. “Get back to the station, check Gracco’s known associates, family, coworkers, anyone he did time with that might hold a grudge. Run them against people that we arrested. And say a prayer while you’re at it.”

“Actually, Grey, can I escort the M.E.?” Tim asks.

You look up from your spot on the floor, and Tim looks away quickly because he suddenly thinks that in that position, you look like a cat.

“Do that,” Grey agrees. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Chen, Nolan and Harper are at the station and ready to assist you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies as she exits.

“Why do I need an escort?” you ask once you’re alone with Tim.

“Because we don’t know what we’re up against and I don’t want to find out the hard way that we’re closer than we think,” he answers.

You nod as you stand, then remind Tim that you have to prepare the body to take back to the morgue. He nods and steps aside, hands clasped, happy to watch you.

“Got it,” Tim says into his phone. “Pine’s got Metro mobilized; do you need me to come back?”

You pull your gloves on as Tim ends his call. He steps toward you and says, “I’m clear to stay with you.”

“Why?” you ask.

“All of our bases are covered. So, if you find something, we need to know.”

You shrug as you concede. It’s not that you don’t want Tim with you; you are confused about why a decorated Metro Sergeant would want to keep you company while you perform an autopsy.

“If you want a mask or anything, they’re in the black case behind you,” you tell him.

“Of course it’s black,” Tim muses.

“Meaning?” you inquire as you mark your incision points.

When you look toward him, Tim gestures to your outfit. You certainly don’t dress like other medical examiners. Or act like them, for that matter.

“What do you have against black?” you tease. “Or are you just jealous of the Converse?”

Tim smiles as he tips his head and replies, “I would rock some studded black Converse, right?”

“Totally. I’ll hook you up with my shoe guy. He might want to see you in the heeled version first, though.”

“So, why’d you become a medical examiner?” Tim asks as you begin the first cut in Gracco’s chest.

“What do you think?”

“Love for science?” Tim guesses.

You lift the scalpel and narrow your eyes at Tim. “Most people just assume I’d like to dig around in dead people.”

“Why? Because you wear black and pick up spiders?”

“Amongst other things.”

“What other things?”

You shake your head and argue, “You have to tell me something about you first.”

“I like the Dodgers.”

“Wow,” you drawl. “Mark me as shocked and surprised.”

“I’m a cop, there isn’t much time to do things worth telling.”

“Fine, I’ll go first but you better have something when I’m done.”

“Yeah, of course. Just, one more thing. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Don’t you dare say oh, you look older, or wow, you must be smart, I really can’t take hearing that again.”

“I didn’t think you must be smart. You clearly are,” Tim replies.

“Good answer. You still want to know about me?”

Tim nods, and you tip your chin down to continue the autopsy as you speak.

“So, you can tell that I like black and spiders… I feel most alive in the fall, Halloween is my favorite day of the year. And cats! They’re much better than spiders because you can watch horror movies and Beetlejuice with them, and birds bring out their violent sides. But cats will also read witch books with you and listen to music, hang out in cemeteries. All the stuff that gets you labeled a ‘creepy weirdo’ is more fun with a cat.”

“Has someone called you a creepy weirdo?” Tim questions.

“More times than I can count. But I have another list that’s longer.”

“A list of what?”

“The coolest tattoos I’ve ever seen.”

Tim hesitates before he asks, “On dead people?”

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Most of them are on live people, though. They’re not as cool when the skin underneath isn’t moving or filled with blood.”

“Interesting.”

“Is this where you call me a creepy weirdo?” Tim shakes his head, and you add, “I guess I’ve just always felt drawn to stuff like that, and it makes me happy, so why should I care what people say about that?”

Tim leans against a table across the morgue from you as you continue to work. He asks a few questions as you work, but the autopsy is as simple as expected. Gracco was killed. There’s no additional evidence about who killed him or why, and his body is relatively clean and well-preserved.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” you tell Tim as you discard your gloves. “If it was a full moon I may have been more help.”

“Because you like full moons, I assume.”

“It was actually a weak werewolf joke, but yes, I do.”

“Does Bazinga?”

You freeze beside Tim before you look up at him to ask, “How do you know my cat’s name?”

“You said it,” Tim answers.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Not today, uh… I saw you in a cemetery a few nights ago.”

“I knew there was someone out there! Bazinga thought it was a ghost.”

Tim nods, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. You both want to keep talking, but there’s something Tim can’t ask, and you aren’t sure you can answer. So, you trace the shape of a crescent moon on your wrist to encourage yourself.

“Will you go out with me?” you ask quickly.

Tim opens his mouth to answer, but you add, “You don’t have to! If I’m misreading this or you’re just being nice and really do think I’m crazy, I understand.”

“I’d love to,” Tim answers when you fall quiet. “Maybe Kojo and I could join your next cemetery picnic.”

“You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“Really creepy,” Tim answers dramatically. “But you like it, so I’d like to see why.”

“What’s your shoe size? I’ll bring you some black Converse.”

“With studs?”

“Wouldn’t you be the stud?”

Tim laughs as he follows you into your office, but his phone rings with an update from Sergeant Grey and he quickly exchanges numbers with you before he leaves. Later, you remember that you never asked who Kojo was, and the picture Tim texts in return to your question makes you smile in your lonely office.

“How nervous are you?” you ask as Tim and Kojo meet you outside the cemetery.

“Probably not as much as I should be,” Tim answers with a smile. “Just don’t tell me we’re eating with someone, uh, someone in there.”

“No, of course not.” You open the gate and joke, “We’ll ease into that.”

“Where’s Bazinga?”

“Bazinga is a cat. In the picnic basket.”

You help Tim spread your favorite blanket on the grass and join him and Kojo as you set the food out. Tim watches you and realizes you’ve never been creepy, scary, or a weirdo. You’re special and if this spot beside you has been left open for him by people underestimating or judging you, he’ll make sure you know how special you are.

Friends From Here

Requested Here!

Pairing: (platonic) Tim Bradford x fem!MP!Chen!reader (r implied to be Lucy's twin)

Summary: When you return to the States, Tim Bradford confuses you for your sister Lucy. That night, you realize why he seemed so familiar and gain a new friend.

Warnings: platonic relationship but allusions to future romance, fluff!

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: While it is implied that r and Lucy are twins, this can be read as sisters, half-sisters, or an adopted sister that happens to look similar to Lucy! I tried to keep it somewhat inclusive so there are no physical descriptions for r other than Tim thinking r was Lucy from the back!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

It has been far too long since you saw your sister Lucy. You joined the Army immediately out of high school and have worked through the ranks since then. Now, you’re an officer with the Military Police. Though you may never know, your determination and success are part of why Lucy became a cop.

Your phone rings as you wait for your plane back to the States. Lucy’s picture on your screen makes you smile, but you answer it quickly.

“Hi!” Lucy exclaims when the line connects. “Are you busy?”

You glance at the boarding screen above you and see you have fifteen minutes to spare.

“No, I’ve got time. What’s up?” you reply.

“I’ve got good news! I’m getting short sleeves!”

“Lucy, congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you! I wish you were here so we could celebrate together. Have you heard anything about when your next leave is?”

“I wish I was there too, but we’re so busy here that I haven’t even had time to ask.”

“Okay,” Lucy says. She’s trying to sound as excited as before but doesn’t quite manage it.

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“No, I understand. I just…”

“Miss me?” you tease. “Because I’m the best sister and friend you’ll ever have, and I’m just so amazing and smart that you-“

“Stop,” Lucy begs through her laughter. “I have to go before my TO yells at me, but I really miss you. Talk soon?”

“Super soon,” you promise. “I love you, Lucy, and congratulations again.”

“I love you too,” Lucy replies before the line ends.

The landing in Los Angeles is smooth, but you barely look around as you secure a car and head for the Mid-Wilshire police station. You changed out of your uniform at the airport, but you have to see Lucy before you can do anything else. The man at the front desk tells you to wait, and he’ll find your sister for you. With your back to the desk, you check your phone to get caught up on what you missed during the flight.

“Chen!” someone yells behind you. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“Excuse me?” you ask as you turn to face the officer. Your brows raise when you realize he’s attractive, but his attitude keeps you from enjoying it for long.

“Just because you graduated to short sleeves doesn’t mean you can come and go as you please, boot,” he adds.

You desperately want to laugh because you don’t think you and Lucy look that much alike, even though you’ve heard it all your lives. Rather than laugh, however, you decide to play along with Officer Bradford.

“It means something,” you argue.

“You’re on the clock, boot-“

“Bradford?” Lucy asks behind him. “Is everything okay?”

You press your lips together at the shock on his face. His brows furrow as he looks at you, and then he turns slowly. When he moves, Lucy sees you standing before him and nearly shoves him out of the way to hug you. You happily wrap your arms around her and say hello but level your gaze on Bradford, who you think owes your sister an apology.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles. “So, you’re…”

“My sister,” Lucy answers.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Tim says. “Sorry again.”

“You look so good in your short sleeves!” you cheer once he’s gone.

“I feel so good in them!” Lucy agrees.

“Have you told Mom?”

“I’m going to tonight over dinner. Does she know you’re back?”

“No,” you answer with a laugh. “I didn’t tell her anything.”

“How long are you here? Can you come to dinner tonight?”

“I can come to dinner tonight and I’ll tell you everything after dinner, how’s that? I mean, you are on the clock, boot.”

Lucy laughs at your impression of Tim before she hugs you and invites you to stay in her apartment. You gladly accept, but as you exit the station, you wonder why Tim Bradford’s voice and attitude seem so familiar.

The door slams as your mom storms out after belittling Lucy over her success. You reach across the counter and take Lucy’s hand to keep her calm.

“Lucy let’s get out of here,” you suggest. “We’ll celebrate the way you deserve to be celebrated.”

“Was she like this with you?” Lucy asks weakly.

“I was on the other side of the country, then the world,” you remind her with a shrug. “She didn’t take my calls the first few months, but eventually she started calling me. Mom is… you know Mom.”

Lucy nods and hands you the keys to her car.

“Yeah, let’s go party, sis!” you cheer. “Short sleeves!”

“Wait, why did I give you the keys? You don’t know where to go,” Lucy remembers.

“Party!” you yell over your shoulder as you lead her out of the apartment.

“What do you want?” you ask Lucy as you stand.

“Surprise me,” she replies happily.

You nod and tap the back of your chair as you walk away. At the bar, you see someone you recognize. You aren’t sure how you didn’t remember him sooner.

“Sergeant Bradford,” you greet. “You know, I took credit for you leaving the Army.”

“Chen,” he replies. “That’s why your sister looked so familiar. And I didn’t leave because of you.”

“Really? Because I’m the last soldier you gave orders too. Explain that.”

Tim shakes his head, but his lips quirk into a small smile at your teasing.

“You were actually my favorite Sergeant I met. The rest of them seemed to think that I was incompetent.”

“Did you talk back to them?” Tim asks. When you don’t answer, he replies, “I thought so.”

“I’m here to celebrate my sister graduating to short sleeves, but…” you pause and pull a napkin toward you to write your number on. “We should talk. When you know who I am and don’t call me boot.”

Tim takes the offered napkin and nods. “Sure.”

You wink at him as you pick up your drink and Lucy’s. When you return to the table, you forget about Sergeant Bradford for the night, but he doesn’t forget about you.

Several hours later, you steer Lucy to her bed and promise her you’ll still be there in the morning. Once she’s asleep, you collapse against the couch and take a deep breath. You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and are exhausted. Your phone buzzes, and you scroll through your notifications until a text stops you.

Breakfast tomorrow? I’ll remember your name this time. -TB

You reply that you’d like that and suggest a restaurant nearby. Back in town with your sister, a new station, and a breakfast ‘date’ with Tim makes falling asleep with a smile easy.

Before you leave, you text Lucy where you’ll be and leave her a note with a promise to bring her food. You don’t mention who you are meeting, but you have much more to tell her when you return.

“Good morning,” you greet as you join Tim in a booth.

“Morning,” he replies. “How was your first night back?”

“How’d you know I just got back?”

“Your sister talks a lot.”

You nod knowingly before a waitress arrives and takes your order. After she leaves, you lean back in the seat.

“I think we should try to be friends,” Tim says.

“You make it sound like you could fail,” you reply. “Why don’t we just say we’ll be friends?”

“Then, I think we should be friends. Unless you’re leaving? Just… I think it would be nice to have a friend who understands what we’ve been through.”

“Lucy made it sound like you were a cold, un-friend-able grump. But I should warn you, if you really want to be friends with me, I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had and you won’t be able to ditch me.”

“I think I can handle that,” Tim assures. “But you didn’t answer my question about leaving.”

“Let me tell my sister the big news and then I’ll tell you, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Also, as my friend, I hope you’re prepared to pay for my breakfast,” you say as your food arrives. “Because I have to buy Lucy a celebration breakfast and confetti pancakes have gotten more expensive since I was here last.”

“Sure,” Tim answers with a laugh. “What else are friends for?”

“You should come back to Lucy’s apartment with me. Big news is for friends, too.”

When you walk into Lucy’s apartment with Tim, you’re not surprised that she’s still in her room. You knock before entering and tell her that you’ve got breakfast and company. She smells the pancakes and rushes to wake up and get ready.

“Tim?” she questions as she enters the living area.

“He’s here as my friend and he’s going to be nice to you. Right, Tim?” you ask.

“Right. We’re celebrating your short sleeves. Yay!” Tim cheers sarcastically.

“You’re the one who kept me in long sleeves,” Lucy accuses.

“He threatened to make me clean the latrines the first time we met,” you say. “I think it’s part of his charm.”

“Sure,” Lucy agrees, unconvinced. “Confetti pancakes are for very good news.”

“You did something amazing, Lucy. You’ve got your dream job and you’re moving up; that deserves celebration,” you point out.

“And…”

“And,” you begin. “I’m staying in the states. I am now working in domestic investigations.”

“You’re an MP?” Tim asks as Lucy jumps to hug you and shouts, “Yes!”

“I am,” you tell Tim. “Have been for a few years now. I was working overseas, traveling constantly, so when a domestic position opened, I jumped at it.”

“The sisters are back!” Lucy cheers. “This definitely deserves pancakes.”

“Told you,” you tease her.

“Would you have said yes if you weren’t staying?” Tim inquires as you slide a pancake toward him.

“Yes to what?” Lucy asks around her fork.

“To being friends,” Tim rushes to explain. “Not a date or anything.”

“I would have told you that I wasn’t staying long, but we could’ve been friends from anywhere, Tim,” you say.

“But you would not have gotten the weekly phone call,” Lucy adds. “That was mine.”

“No more weekly phone calls now. The furthest I’ll go is DC and it’ll only be for a few days at a time. Now I just have to get a place to live.”

“Live here with me!” Lucy suggests excitedly. “I have a spare room.”

You look at Tim, and he shrugs. “I’ve never had a friend live close by, don’t look at me.”

“Oh, I have so much to teach you,” you muse.

“Which you can do from here,” Lucy points out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐟𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐫˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫 .𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ andy barber x fem!reader

summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ packing couldn’t be easier

word count ☽˚⁀➷｡ 3134 DO YOU DIRTY SERIES

warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡ PART THREE OF SERIES laurie making a move on andy grr😡, andy packing up a box, talking about tomatoes, shower sexy sex, fingering, praise kink, having to be quiet, andys hand over your mouth yum, breeding, laurie being literally crazy, school stuff, intentions kidnapping, trauma, crying, bad bitch vibes

authors note ☽˚⁀➷｡ PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

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