Fuck Around & Find Out

Moved On (Andy Barber x Wife!Reader)

A/N: Thanks for this request! I attempted an Andy Barber fic once but tbh I wasn’t happy with it and deleted so thank you for sending this one in so I could have another shot. <3 This fic takes place three years after the series. A few things deviate from the book/television series, but I you like this, anon.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Wife Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, Laurie Barber.

Length: 2.4k words

Andy crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the granite kitchen island as he watches you in pure adoration while you go about setting the table for dinner. He knows that he should probably be helping you out, but he simply can’t help himself as he stands there and stares at you in complete and utter awe—he never would have believed that this was the life he would be living. Sometimes he can’t believe this is the life he’s living, even after all this time. It often feels like a dream, a blissful dream he's afraid that one day he’ll wake up from.

If someone would have told Andy three and half years ago that one day he would be remarried to the love of his life, expecting his second child, and that his teenaged son would be healed, healthy, and happy, he would have scoffed right in their damn face. After everything that had happened—the murder trial, the near fatal car crash, and Laurie being put behind bars for nearly killing herself and their son, Andy could have sworn that his life was over. Laurie had been put in the psychiatric unit of a women’s correctional facility to serve her four and a half year prison sentence and shortly after that, Jacob had come out of his medically induced coma with an incredibly long and painful road to recovery ahead of him. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, Jacob had been wounded so deeply by everything that had happened and Andy feared he wouldn’t be able to be the strength his son needed to go on. He’d been left all on his own to pick up the shattered, jagged pieces of the world he once knew, with no idea of how to even start putting them back together again.

But then you happened.

Andy never saw this coming—never saw you coming.

When he first met you, from the first hello you two exchanged, Andy couldn’t have possibly imagined that you would end up being exactly what he and his son needed.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” You tease, smiling over your shoulder at him.

“Sorry, honey.” Andy chuckles and shakes his head, uncrossing his arms as he pushes himself away from the kitchen island. “What can I help you out with?”

“Can you pull out the salad from the fridge and bring it over to the table?”

He quickly nods and does as you request, bringing over the bowl of salad that you’d chopped up earlier to the table. He sets it in the middle of the table before taking his seat at the head of the table. “Where’s Jake? Let’s get him down here, I’m starving.”

“Jacob!” You call out loudly. “Dinner’s ready! Let’s go, shut off that video game!”

Andy frowns. “Video game? Isn’t he supposed to be studying?”

“It’s Friday, so I let the kid live a little.” You wink at your husband as you take a seat beside him and drape a clean white cloth napkin across your lap. “And besides, he’s been doing really well in his classes. His counselor e-mailed me the other day. Jake’s grades have never been better.”

“He has a good influence.” Andy reaches over and places his hand over yours.

At that moment, your seventeen year old stepson comes down the stairs and takes a seat across from you. He has a white envelop clutched in one of his hands.

“What do you have there, bud?” Andy questions suspiciously as soon as he sees it. He raises an eyebrow at his son. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

Jacob doesn’t reply, and instead, he simply shoots you a nervous glance.

“Go on,” You encourage him, grinning excitedly. “Tell him, Jake.”

Andy glances between the two of you, confused. “Tell me what? What’s going on?”

“It’s an acceptance letter,” Jacob informs him, handing it over. “My first one. It came in the mail earlier today.” He shoots his father a sheepish look. “I was going to wait for all three of us to be together to open it, but I couldn’t wait and neither could she,” he explains, tossing you a quick smile. “We figured we’d just tell you over dinner.”

Andy opens it and he beams with pride as his blue eyes glaze over the document in his hand. “Northeastern University?”

Jake nods. “I’m going to e-mail the school and commit first thing on Monday for the upcoming semester.”

Andy’s smile fades ever so slightly. “Commit? Already? Are you sure this is where you want to go? You’re still waiting on other letters, Jacob. Isn’t it a little too soon to make the commitment?” he asks, setting the letter down. “You still have a couple of months left in the school year. Don’t you want to wait?”

“Not really. This school is the closest to home, dad. I don’t want to move somewhere too far for college, especially since I want to be close enough come and see my little sister after she’s born.” Jacob turns from his father and his eyes meet yours. “I want to be a part of her life as much as possible. I can’t do that if I ship myself off too far for school.”

You place a hand on your growing baby bump. “He’s got a point, Andy.”

“Well, if that’s your decision, than you have our full support.” Andy puts a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you, Jake. We both are. We know you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

“Thanks, dad.”

After dinner, Jacob excuses himself from the table to watch television—normally he’s the one to help you clear the table and clean up, but Andy decides to give him a pass for the night and volunteers to help you himself. You’re in the kitchen tossing scraps into the silver, stainless steel trash can when Andy walks in, takes the plate from your hand and sets it down on the counter. He then grabs you and takes you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss that sends chills up and down the length of your spine. As his hands start to wander, you break away from him ever so slightly, resting your hand gently on his chest.

“Mm, someone’s feeling extra affectionate today,” You murmur against his lips.

“I’m just really happy, is all. Ridiculously, deliriously happy.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Andy moves his mouth to your neck and starts to trail his way down to your chest.

You laugh, lightly pushing him away. “Let’s finish cleaning up first, lover boy,” You tell him, eliciting an impatient groan from him. “I cleared off the dishes for you, can you just load them into the washer for me?”

“Fine.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “But wait until I get my hands on you later tonight. I had dinner, now I want my dessert,” he smirks at you. “My sweet tooth is aching for you.”

“Jesus, Andy! Jake is in the room next door! Save it for the bedroom,” You remind him, blushing as your attention turn back to the trash can. You grab at the bag, tying together securely before pulling it out of the component. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go take this outside.”

Andy shakes his head and reaches out. “Sweetheart, let me do that for you—”

“Andy, I’m pregnant, not wounded. I’m perfectly capable of taking out the trash,” You tell him, shooting him a look. “I’ll be right back.” You make your way through the house and out the front door, stepping out into the chilly, evening air. You walk down the long driveway towards the black garbage can, lift the lid open and quickly toss the bag inside, letting the lid slam shut. As you turn and begin to walk back up to the house, you stop when you get the sudden feeling that you’re being watched by somebody. Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly turn on your heel and let out a gasp when you see her standing there right beside Andy’s Audi.

Laurie Barber.

You and Andy have been hearing faint whispers around town about Laurie’s possible early release due to her improvement and good behavior. After the car crash, Laurie and her defense lawyers had taken a plea deal from the prosecution in order to avoid having to go to trial. While her sentence may have been light considering the serious nature of what she had done, the mandated court order to stay away from Andy and Jacob had been much harsher. She was not allowed to come into contact with either of them after her release or it would violate the terms of her probation. And yet, here she is, standing right in front of you, outside of your family’s home.

You stand there, frozen solid on the spot, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Laurie stares at you, her eyes falling to your swollen midsection.

Instinctively, your hand goes to your stomach.

Her eyes flicker to the diamond ring on your finger. “You must be his new wife,” she says, rigidly. “I heard he remarried. But I didn’t know he was having another baby.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and you clamp it shut.

Unsure of what else to do, you give a small nod of your head.

“I’d heard the rumors that he’d completely moved on,” Laurie says. Despite the stiff, and cold tone of her voice, you can see that her eyes are brimming with tears. “Part of me refused to believe that he could forget about the life we had together, just like that. That he could move on so quickly.”

“Laurie, you shouldn’t be here,” You finally manage to say. “You need to leave.”

“How’s Jacob?”

“Laurie, please, you need to leave right now before Andy sees you—”

She ignores you, firmly repeating, “How is Jacob?”

You let out a small sigh, feeling conflicted.

One on hand, you can’t stand the woman for what she had done. But then, on the other, you can see the remorse in her eyes and you know that she’s desperate to hear about her son. “He’s doing great, Laurie,” You tell her. “Jake is thriving. He’s doing well in school, he’s been accepted into a good university. And most importantly, he’s healthy and he’s happy.”

“I need to see him.”

“You can’t. The judge ordered you to stay away from him.”

Laurie steps forward and grabs your arms. “Please! I need to see Jacob—”

“Get your fucking hands off my wife!” Andy’s growl comes from behind you, startling both you and Laurie. He snatches you out of her grasp and pushes you behind him, his broad shoulders squaring protectively. He speaks again, his tone venomous as he faces his ex-wife for the first time in over three years. “What the fuck are you doing here, Laurie?”

She lifts her chin, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m here because I want to see my son.”

“After you tried to fucking kill him?” He nearly shouts. “Are you fucking insane?”

“I made a mistake, Andy! I wasn’t in the right frame of mind! After everything, after the trial, everything was just falling apart and I couldn’t take it!” Laurie shouts back at him. “It was a fucking terrible mistake!”

“A mistake that nearly cost our son his life!”

You step beside your husband and place a hand on his chest. “Andy, please! You need to calm down before Jacob overhears and comes outside.” You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. You can see the anger, the pain, all of his emotions swimming in them and your opposite hand slips into his, lacing your fingers together. You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please, just calm down.”

Andy nods in agreement and takes a deep breath before turning back to Laurie. “I don’t know where you got the nerve to show up at my door,” he says. He’s certainly calmer than before, but there’s still an angry edge to his tone. “How you can even show your face around here after what you did is beyond me.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurie whispered. “For everything. Andy, from the bottom of my heart, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me, I wasn’t in a good place. Mentally, or emotionally.” At this point, the tears were now streaming down her face. “I love my son, and I live with the guilt and the shame of what I did every damn second of every damn day. I never meant for any of it to happen, Andy. You have to believe me. I love Jacob.”

Her apology doesn’t faze Andy, but it fazes you.

Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones that have you on the sensitive side. But you just can’t help but to feel some sympathy for Laurie Barber.

“Please. I just want to see my son. I want to tell him I’m sorry. At least let me do that,” she pleads. “Let me apologize to him, face to face.”

Andy is about to protest when you place a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Let us talk to Jacob, first. And if he decides he is up to seeing you, then we can contact our attorney. They can speak to the judge and perhaps we can arrange something if he allows it.” You glance between Andy and Laurie. “It’s a decision that Jake should make. And everyone will respect his choice as well as the choice of the judge. Can we all agree on that?”

“Okay. I can agree to that.” Laurie nods. “Andy? Do you agree?”

His lips press into a tight, thin line. “You’re lucky my wife is here to be the voice of reason. Because if it were up to me, you’d never fucking see him again. Not a fucking chance. Now leave my property before I call your probation officer.” He grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the house. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

“Wait!” Laurie reaches for your opposite hand, holding you back.

Andy’s nostrils flare. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

She ignores him, her desperate eyes meeting yours. “If Jake decides that he wants nothing to do with me, can you just do me a favor?”

You nod slowly.

“Look after him for me, please. From a mother to a mother. Please, just look after my boy for me.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing all along, Laurie,” You tell her in a low voice. Before you can stop yourself, it slips out, “I’ve been the mother he’s needed for the last three years.”

Laurie releases you, feeling stung by your words.

“Let’s go,” Andy says firmly, pulling you towards the house.

Rook Book

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!metro!reader

Summary: When you return to the Mid-Wilshire station for a Metro inspection, you don't expect to run into your former TO, Tim Bradford.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, incorrect police procedures

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

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

“Boot, let’s go!” Tim urges. “You can talk to your friends later.”

“Good morning to you, too, Officer Bradford,” Lucy replies. “How’d you-“

“Shop.”

“I just-“

“Shop.”

Lucy sighs before walking away from Tim. She’s used to his grumpiness by now, but she can tell by his attitude that there will be a few Tim Tests today. The war bags are already in the trunk, so Lucy isn’t sure what the rush is.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s been a while,” Wade says as he shakes your hand.

“Too long,” you reply with a smile. “When my captain mentioned this, I knew I had to take the assignment.”

“So, what does Metro want with a station review? Isn’t that usually IA’s thing?”

“Typically, yes. I think my role here is best described as a scout. Cap wants some new blood and we’ve got a couple of Metro openings. We need the best, and for some reason, I get to choose them.”

“You’ve already chosen one, I’m sure.”

Wade smiles as you furrow your brows. He shakes his head and reaches for something on his desk.

“Who?” you ask.

“If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.”

Someone knocks on the door, and you turn around as Smitty steps inside.

“I thought you quit,” he says when he sees you.

“I think I know who I won’t be choosing,” you tell Wade.

He tosses you a set of keys and waves. You leave his office and glance around. The station hasn’t changed much since the last time you were there, but you’re sure the people have. As you walk through the bullpen, you see someone you recognize.

“Bradford?” you call.

Tim freezes at the sound of your voice. He hasn’t seen you in years, yet hearing his last name come out of your mouth takes him back to when he was a rookie. Walking several steps ahead of him, Lucy stops and turns at the call of Bradford’s name. She’s expecting to be held up for a minute or two, but when she sees Tim turn slowly toward you, she knows that it’s more than that.

“Hey,” Tim says.

When he sees your smile, he relaxes and steps toward you. You don’t miss his initial reaction, though, and it makes your smile grow.

“I did not think you’d still be here,” you begin. “Maybe I should’ve done a better job.”

Tim nods, and Lucy rushes to his side. She smiles and extends her hand toward you before she speaks.

“Hi, I’m Lucy, uh, Officer Chen. How do you know Officer Bradford?” she asks.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply before telling her your name. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Tim’s rookie.”

“You’re a TO?” you ask incredulously as you turn to look at Tim. “Seriously?”

“Lucy,” Tim begins, “this is my TO.”

Lucy’s jaw drops and you chuckle. Wade calls your name, and you look over your shoulder at him. After he beckons you to return to his office, you turn back to Tim.

“I’ll see you around,” you say.

“Why?” he inquires.

“Metro’s recruiting.”

Tim watches you go and doesn’t move until you’re out of his sight. His shoulders are tense, but there’s a small smile on his face that Lucy hasn’t seen before.

“You never mentioned her!” Lucy exclaims.

“Because she was my TO, not yours,” Tim argues.

“She doesn’t seem that much older than you.”

“I’m not that much older than you.”

Lucy raises her brows but remains silent this time.

“Our ages don’t matter. Aren’t you supposed to be in the shop?” Tim argues.

“Aren’t you?”

Tim tilts his head to the side, and Lucy decides this isn’t a battle worth fighting. She’ll ask about you later, anyway. After Lucy walks away, Tim glances towards Wade’s office once more. He remembers every moment he spent with you, and the memories are making it hard to focus.

“You drive,” Tim tells Lucy as he enters the garage area.

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever unserious?”

Lucy nods and takes the keys from him. As she climbs into the driver’s seat, she realizes why he doesn’t want to drive. He can’t, for some reason.

“You had a crush on your TO,” she accuses quietly.

“Do you want me to quiz you on everything in the rook book?” Tim replies. “Because if you keep this up, that’s what you have to look forward to.”

“You don’t have one.”

“No, because I actually know everything in it. Now, you can pick. Be quiet and drive or I start asking questions about cavity search procedures.”

“I will be quiet and drive,” Lucy decides. “For now.”

Tim takes a deep breath as he remembers the rook book you kept with you when he was a boot. Every memory he has of you is good, and now he’s concerned that Lucy is right. Not that he did have a crush on you, he knows he did, but that he still does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “I need you and Chen to return to the station.”

“Copy that,” Tim responds.

“What do you think that’s about?” Lucy asks.

“The Metro inspection.”

“I didn’t know about a Metro inspection.”

“I can tell you’re about to burst, so you can ask one question before we get back to the station,” Tim offers.

“Ooh! Wait, just one? How am I supposed to choose? Because I want to know about what kind of TO she was, but I also need to ask if she knows that you liked her.”

“Choose one.”

Lucy taps her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before smiling. “Did she test you like you test me?”

“Are you asking if she had a version of Tim Tests?”

“Yes.”

Tim nods as he answers, “Yeah. She gave me tests. It’s one of the reasons I started doing Tim Tests. Practical knowledge and experience are important, but she’s the one who taught me that.”

“That’s so cute! You based your teaching style on your teacher crush.”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

“Okay, okay. Then did she quiz you on the rook book, too?”

Lucy knows she is pressing her luck with asking another question. Tim doesn’t answer, and as she nears the station, Lucy expects he’ll make her do pushups later.

“Yeah, she did. Always had a copy of the rook book with her. Sometimes, she’d read it while I drove around and would only talk to me to ask me questions.”

Lucy smiles to herself, now completely convinced that Tim had a crush on you. The way he talks about you and remembers you, though, makes her think those feelings may still be alive. Once the shop is parked at the station, Lucy decides to get to the bottom of Tim’s relationship with you, and if there isn’t one, she needs to make something happen.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford, thanks for coming back so quickly,” Wade says. “Head into my office. Chen, I’ve got an assignment for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies.

“There’s a Metro inspection happening today, and I need you to take the Metro officer around, show her everything she needs to see, make introductions, whatever she asks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucy tries to hide her smile because she suspects that you are the Metro officer she’s about to spend a bunch of time with. Maybe you’ll be more open than Tim. When you approach her with a smile, Lucy knows that her investigation of your relationships will be more fun than your inspection of the station.

“Officer Chen, sorry to pull you from patrol, but Sergeant Grey said you were one of the best,” you greet.

“No problem,” Lucy says. “And you can call me Lucy if you want.”

“Okay, Lucy, I would love a tour of Mid-Wilshire station. It’s been a long time since I was here, so walk me through like it’s my first time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy turns and leads you toward the front desk, to start the tour as she would with a visitor.

“Lucy?” you ask. “What’s Tim like as a TO?”

“He’s great. I mean, he’s grumpy and has a ton of Tim Tests, but I like riding with him.”

“Tim Tests,” you murmur under your breath. “Cute.”

Lucy smiles at your reaction before she begins the tour. You don’t mention Tim again for a while, and Lucy thinks that you are too focused on your inspection to think about him. As you near the bullpen at the end of the tour, Tim is exiting Wade’s office.

“You abducted my boot for a personalized tour?” Tim asks you.

“Lucy mentioned Tim Tests,” you say, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me copied my rook book move, too.”

Tim rubs his thumb across his jaw before answering, “I didn’t.”

“He told me that you used to carry a rook book around and would ask him questions,” Lucy interjects. “I’m really glad he didn’t take that idea.”

You look at Tim with a smile as you ask, “That’s all you told her?”

Lucy looks back and forth between you and Tim, but neither of you seems to remember she’s there.

“The rook book wasn’t a rook book,” Tim says after a moment. “It was just a book that she put the cover on. Those days that she didn’t want to talk to me, she’d just read through our shift and ask me random questions to make it look like she was doing her job.”

“Yeah. Because I’m the one who had trouble doing my job,” you reply with a laugh.

Tim shakes his head, and Lucy suddenly feels the urge to interrupt before he says something out of line.

“How’s the inspection going?” he asks instead.

“How’d your meeting go?” you counter. “Because the inspection is just a cover and we both know it.”

“Cover for what?” Lucy asks.

“She’s recruiting for Metro,” Tim explains. “Looking for the best talent in our station to move to a new team.”

“We’ve got three openings,” you remind him. “Just think about it, okay?”

Tim looks toward Lucy, but you give him a knowing nod. Lucy feels lost like a kid listening to her parents talk about something she hasn’t experienced yet.

“Thanks for the tour, Officer Chen,” you say. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You say bye to Tim before walking past him. His fingers flex at his side as you pass, close enough to touch. Tim closes his eyes for a moment before turning to Lucy.

“Let’s go. Patrol isn’t over yet,” he says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a book first?” she responds. “I know, shop. I’m going.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After the day of your inspection, Lucy doesn’t hear your name again. Tim returns to his high-stress tests, driving, and random procedural questions. You clearly made an impact on Tim just by being near him, and as Lucy’s rookie exam gets closer, she wonders if Tim pushed you away.

“Can I ask a question?” Lucy asks.

“Depends. Is it about the exam? Because that’s all you should be concerned about,” Tim says.

“No. Well, sort of. Did your TO help you study?”

“Are we talking about my experience as a rookie or about my TO?”

“Your TO,” Lucy answers softly.

“Fine. Ask away.”

“Why hasn’t she been back?”

“She has a job. Metro is busy, so she doesn’t have a lot of time to make personal visits.”

“Did she offer you one of the positions?”

“She did.”

“And you didn’t take it? Why not?”

“Because you’re still a rookie. I have to get you through this.”

“You could’ve handed me off, that happens all the time. Did you say no because of her?”

“I didn’t say no, Chen. I said not yet.”

“Metro positions don’t open every day! You can’t throw away your career to drive me around for a few more months!”

“Lucy!” Tim yells. “Drop it.”

Lucy sits back and presses her lips together to stay quiet. Tim’s cell phone rings, and he glances at it before raising it to his ear.

“Hello?” Tim answers.

Lucy looks over in shock. Tim has never answered a personal call in the time they’ve been riding together. Whoever is on the other end speaks for a moment, and Tim listens intently.

“Got it… Yep, see you then.”

Tim ends the call and drops his phone to continue driving.

“Who was that?” Lucy asks.

Tim looks over but doesn’t answer. He says, “Read your rook book,” and keeps driving.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call as he and Lucy enter the station.

Tim leaves Lucy and walks to you. He stops beside Wade’s office and waits for you to begin. You told him on the phone to come straight to the station when his shift ended and he’s ready to know why. Nolan and Jackson enter behind Lucy and silence as they watch Tim talk to you.

“Who is that?” Nolan whispers.

“Tim’s TO,” Lucy answers.

“My captain wanted to call you, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person,” you begin. “You passed the Metro test, and your spot is waiting for you.”

Tim smiles, glad he has his back to the rookies. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything I haven’t done before.”

“Which is?”

“See potential in you.”

Tim nods and thanks you again. You look over his shoulder and the rookies look away quickly, but they’re less than stealthy and it is obvious they’re trying to listen in.

“Has Lucy been asking about me?” you ask.

“Nonstop. Don’t look so happy about it, though.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Mostly if I had a crush on you.”

“We both know you did,” you say.

Tim doesn’t argue, and your smile grows.

“I know you told her about my tests and the rookie book, but what else does she know?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s interesting. Because I don’t know any more than that and I’ve known you a whole lot longer.” You glance down at your Metro uniform before adding, “Oh, and my captain also said that Metro officers are allowed to have interpersonal relationships as long as they don’t interfere with work.”

Tim looks up quickly with wide eyes. You stifle a laugh, and he rolls his eyes.

“So… are you ready to admit you had a crush on me?” you ask.

“Something like that.”

You wave at Lucy and step away from Tim. He reaches an arm out to stop you, but you only wink at him before you continue walking.

“Are you going to do something this time?” Wade asks as he exits his office.

“We’ll see,” Tim answers. “Lucy has to pass the rookie exam first.”

“It looks like she just got herself a tutor.”

Tim turns and finds you and Lucy talking excitedly. You smile at him, and Tim feels like a boot again.

“This is gonna be fun,” Wade and Lucy say simultaneously.

Neither you nor Tim hear them, too busy looking at one another.

> part 2: Rook Book to Remember Me By

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Description: Y/N Wayne brings a very special guest to dinner.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: Cursing

It was rare that all of the bat children were summoned for a reason outside of their nightly duties. It was a sign that shenanigans were about to ensue and Bruce normally took this as a sign to drink heavily. Usually, it was because of Y/N but these little gatherings always left strong memories on each sibling.

"Do we need to be here for this?" Jason asked feeling a bit stuffy in his white button-up shirt. He already rolled up the sleeves and undid the first two buttons.

"Yeah, Y/N gets a new boyfriend like every week," Duke said looking through his comic book. He didn't have anything else to do but this was not how he wanted to spend his day off.

"This is different apparently. She said and I quote 'It's serious this time. I would have his kids,'" Tim used air quotations when explaining why all of them are waiting for Y/N to show up for dinner.

"Hell, maybe I will stick around," Jason said intrigued by the idea of his sister wanting to have someone's kids.

"Whoever sticks around the longest doesn't have to patrol for the next three days." Bruce walked into the parlor where all the children were currently relaxing. No one knows how Bruce does the things that he does but Tim's working theory is that there are secret passages throughout the manor.

"Oh, you're on," Cass said appearing behind Bruce. She was on a new mission to make Bruce flinch. She hadn't been successful yet but she could feel herself getting close.

"Everyone please meet in the dining room. Y/N and her guest have arrived," Alfred said with a smile playing on his lips because he knew that shitstorm that was about to occur.

"I wonder who we're meeting now," Tim thought aloud.

"Probably another model or actor," Damian said holding Pennyworth the Cat. He was only excited to threaten someone else for dating his sister. It had been one of the few times deemed acceptable to threaten people outside of patrol.

"You think I'll be able to get an autograph?" Duke asked. Unfortunately, no one was able to answer because they saw who Y/N's guest was.

"Slade? How the hell did you get here?" Dick asked, noticing how Slade Wilson's arm was wrapped around his sister's waist.

"Y/N get away from him. Is he holding you captive?" Bruce asked. If there's one thing that Bruce was going to be, it would be a concerned father, especially when it came to Y/N.

"What? No, he's my boyfriend," Y/N exclaimed so her family wouldn't start pulling out the weapons that were hidden all over the manor.

"I always knew one of you would give me a heart attack, I always thought it would be Damian or Tim," Bruce

"We're dating," Y/N said happily while looking up at Slade. He placed a kiss on her lips and all of her siblings immediately gagged.

"You're dating my nemesis," Dick accused Y/N with a nagging finger.

"Yeah, he was like thirsting after me real bad so I made him promise not to do dumb stuff," Y/N explained while adjusting her long box braids that were in a ponytail.

"It's true. I haven't plotted against you or anyone close to you in almost one hundred and fifty days," Slade said it was like some kind of accomplishment. He was captivated by Y/N, there was something about her that made him do whatever she wanted without hesitation.

"Thank you, I think," Dick's confusion was written all over his face.

"You're welcome," Slade responded before pulling out a chair for Y/N to sit in.

"Bruce, you're not going to say anything?" Tim asked. Bruce was indeed a man of few words but this was odd even for him.

"I mean I could but then I'd be a hypocrite because I did some stuff with Talia last week and I'm trying to be better. Alfred, please get our finest bourbon, make that three bottles," Bruce may not trust Slade but he still wanted to eat the dinner that Alfred painstakingly prepared.

"Y/N, can I speak to you before we start dinner?" DIck asked in his best big brother voice.

"Sure," Y/N followed him to a nearby hallway.

"He tried to kill me," Dick whispered a little loudly.

"But he's hot," Y/N admitted without shame.

"He's old," Dick was willing to try anything to deter Y/N from dating Slade Wilson, Deathstroke. A mercenary who had tried to kill him multiple times.

"He's a silver fox," Y/N argued back.

"Why are you with him?" Dick asked looking for a genuine answer from his sister.

"I like him and he's kinda funny. Plus he's got a real big-" Y/N's eyes widened as her arms widened to show the size of what she was talking about.

"Eww. I don't need to know that," Dick said covering his ears.

"I was going to say, heart," Y/N tried to be convincing.

"No, you weren't," Dick deadpanned.

"Okay, probably not,"

Damaged

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After a bad evening with your parents, Tim Bradford reminds you that you aren't damaged, and if your family won't be there for you, he will.

Warnings: abuse (emotional, verbal, and physical), 3rd party alcohol consumption, fluff and comfort, protective!Tim, platonic leading toward romantic

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Slacking off?” Tim asks. “A little early for civvies.”

You look up quickly, surprised by his presence outside the locker room. “I’m leaving early,” you explain weakly.

“I remember,” he replies, observing you. “Dinner with your parents.”

“Right.”

“Enjoy.”

Dropping your eyes to his boots, you nod and answer, “I will. Bye.”

Tim watches you go, wondering why dinner with your parents puts you on edge. Every time you mention them, your eyes shift, you grow nervous and jumpy, and the strong, confident cop he knows retreats into the shell of a scared woman. It’s a change he recognizes, one he understands, and he knows you lied when you said you’d enjoy yourself.

“You know what I think?” your dad asks.

You’re going to tell me no matter what, you think.

“Your job is bad enough,” he says, interrupting himself to take a drink. “But you could at least dress like a woman while you’re off the clock.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you try not to let his words affect you. Your parents have been like this for your entire life. Some might call it verbal abuse, while others consider it an absence of a filter. Regardless, your parents have never hesitated to point out your every insecurity. The worst part of seeing them, you think, is that they see your scars and rip those old wounds open again, tearing you down with every word they speak.

“Can you afford some new clothes?” your mother asks. “Maybe then you could find a man who’d give you a second thought.”

Chewing your inner lip, you nod silently. You feel like you’re twelve years old again, too big for the frame they try to shove you into. It’s been years since you gave up on trying to please them, but it doesn’t take away the pain.

“Although,” your dad continues, “who would want to start a family with a beat cop who could get shot at any moment?”

“Beat cops are a real family,” you mumble under your breath, fiddling with the napkin in your lap.

You don’t see your mom move, but the sharp slap sound of her palm hitting your face startles you enough that you finally look her in the eye. Your hand raises to your stinging cheek without thought. You know it won’t bruise, and something deep inside you tells you to stand up for yourself, to leave, and never look back.

“I’m getting another drink,” your dad states, stumbling slightly as he stands.

You’ve been in this exact spot too many times, you realize. So, you decide to play the part until they’re ready to leave. Sitting still, you listen, nod, and apologize as you hold back the tears threatening to spill.

“Look at the time,” your mom mutters after you serve dessert.

“And we have people who give a crap about where we are,” your dad adds, laughing at you. “We better head out. Next time we do this, don’t make the- the food like that and buy more drinks.”

“Will do,” you answer, standing.

“That didn’t sound like an apology,” your mother patronizes.

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I’ll do better next time.”

“That means we have to come back,” your dad grumbles.

Not if we can help it, you think.

“Sweetheart,” your mother says, wrapping her hand around your wrist. Her nails dig into the sensitive skin above your pulse point, but you level your expression. “You need to try harder.”

“Sure. I will.”

She releases your hand, but your dad takes it just as quickly, his grip tighter and stronger than hers. You pull back instinctively, and he raises his other hand. When you cower away from him, dropping your chin, he laughs and twists the skin of your arm harshly.

“Better food,” he seethes. “Better news. If we come over here again and you’re still a disappointment… Just don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” you force out.

You stand in place, staring at the dirty dishes on your table as the door slams behind them. Alone, you stumble backward until you hit the wall, your vision growing blurry with tears. Sinking to the floor, you let yourself cry, and within a minute, heavy sobs shake your entire body. You feel paralyzed, your mind viciously reminding you that you and your parents are on a crashing course that only worsens with time.

But, you remember, they are your parents. They loved you at some point, but it’s always been like this. Maybe you are the problem, a voice you don’t recognize says in your mind.

You want to forget tonight, forget the pain in your chest and along your skin, so you reach for your phone. You’re texting Tim before you think about it. You don’t know what to say, but you’re desperate. Anything would be a welcome distraction, so you ask if he’s busy.

It changes from Delivered to Read, but he doesn’t reply. So, you toss your phone aside and pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself as if it will make the world disappear. 

A knock on your front door pulls you out of your teary reverie that is on the constant brink of returning to the nightmare of reality. Walking to the door, you hope that it isn’t your parents. You look through the peephole before you open the door, sure your surprise is evident.

“What happened?” Tim asks, his face softening when he sees your tear-stained face and red cheek.

You shake your head as you step back, and Tim follows you inside, closing the door softly.

“Did your parents come over?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, laughing humorlessly. “They were here.”

“Hey,” Tim says. You hold the back of your chair and stare at the table again. “Hey,” he repeats firmly. “Look at me.”

You turn your chin toward him, your eyes glassy and your skin blotchy.

“You’re okay,” he promises, spreading his hands with his palms toward you. “Whatever they said, whatever they made you believe, it’s a lie. Your parents are… they’re abusive.”

“They just-”

“Crossed a line,” Tim interrupts. “I see it every time you mention them. I don’t know what they said or did, but if it brought you here, they are the problem. Not you.”

You rub your chest, failing to lessen the pressure there before Tim steps toward you. When you don’t stop him, he lays his hand on your shoulder.

“What if they’re right?” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Tim looks between your eyes, then says, “What if my dad was right?”

Your eyes clear as you look at Tim. His question, his vulnerability, brings you back into this moment. Tim is here because he saw something in you. Despite his gruff exterior, he cares about you. And now he’s sharing something about himself to help you. To save you.

“My dad was abusive,” he says. “He shoved my head through plaster, yelled at me, belittled me, made me doubt myself and all that I could do. You? You’re stronger than you think, stronger than your parents make you feel. You are not what or who they say.”

“Then why am I like this?” you wonder.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Tim repeats, his thumb brushing kindly, comfortingly over your shoulder.

“They…” you begin. “Their voices are in my head constantly, and it’s so loud.”

“They talk with razors on their tongue just to provoke your combat, use new weapons to snap those final strings just to watch you fall back,” Tim replies. “I get it. Their voices, their lies, they follow you everywhere because they’ve ingrained them into you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, wiping the tears from your face. “How do you do everything that you do, and do it well and confidently, after going through it?”

“You know who you are and what you can do. Place your confidence and your belief in that, not the words they yell trying to make themselves feel like they’re better than you.”

“I don’t think I can do that, Tim,” you argue, shaking your head as you sink into your chair.

“Then shut them up, drown them out, listen to me,” Tim encourages, moving with you. “Whatever it takes.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy. I’m not as strong as you Tim.”

“You’re stronger,” he insists. “And I’m here for you. You’re not alone, okay?”

You nod, willing yourself to believe him. Tim takes your hand, and when your sleeve shifts, he sees the bruise forming around your wrist. Without hesitation, he pushes the fabric up to your elbow, revealing the darkening patch and angry red scratch marks.

“They touched you?” he asks, his voice different than before as he stares at your arm.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Was it the first time?”

“I…”

Tim releases your hand as he stands. Your unwillingness to answer was better confirmation than he would have received if you had said yes. Tim moves toward the door, on his way to leaving you alone. Again.

“Tim,” you call, your voice strained as tears well in your eyes once more. 

He slows, his hand on the doorknob. “They touched you.”

“Please,” you plead.

“I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Tim, please don’t leave me,” you whisper, fresh tears running down your face, the salt stinging your raw skin.

He sighs, turning toward you. As he returns to your side, he makes a promise to himself. No one will ever hurt you like this again. He let his dad impact his life for years after he moved away from home. When his dad got sick, it felt as if a strong current was pulling him into the nightmare his dad created all over again. If your parents are so willing to take you for granted, to hurt you, then Tim Bradford will be at your side to stop them from damaging you.

You’re not alone. As long as Tim is breathing, you never will be.

Potions

Pairing- Usopp x reader x Zoro

Summery- Based off this ask

Warnings- drinking, sex pollen (kinda ig??), sex while under the influence, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), penetration

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Usopp explored the plethora of booths at the market he got Nami to bring the crew to this specific island for a specific booth. “Ah, here it is!” He spotted the place he had so eagerly sought out.

Although, it was strange he could have sworn the name of the booth he was searching for was Amil’s and not Amel’s but oh well!

Stepping up to the man who stood behind the booth. He greets Usopp. “Ah, good sir! How can I assist you on this fine day?”

“Oh, yes.” Usopp clears his throat, pulling his glasses down covering his eyes as he leans in closer. “You see, I may have heard you have procured a certain strengthening potion.” He tries to sound laid-back, almost tipping over once his arm doesn’t find support on the small booth.

“Oh….” the man's voice trails off as his eyes scanning across his almost empty cart before he sees a random bottle. “This!” He pulls it out eyes trailing over it, he’s been meaning to find someone to take this off his hands.

“And you’re sure this is it?” Usopp eyes the mixture that reminds him of a beer bottle or maybe wine. The red and pink sealant that protected the substance dripped down almost covering the peculiar drawing on the gut of the bottle. Depicting a creature with three heads, one of a goat, one of a human and one of a bull.

The bottle itself definitely didn’t scream potion but never judge a book by its cover y’know.

Salesman's eyes trails down for a sly second before answering, “Yes, of course friend. I would never lie.” Before Usopp could question him any further he quickly gives the price before shoving it into Usopp's hands.

He found the man's behavior odd but didn’t question it as going off to explore the island now that he’s got what he came for, or at least what he thinks.

A few hours later

Walking into the kitchen with Zoro your eyes land on the decorated beer bottle on the table. Usopp sat on the other side, clean glass in hand. He goes to pick it up but you swiftly swipe it up you turn the bottle to its back not caring to look at the label.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the cap off the bottle smelling it. A pungent smell hits your senses, nostrils flaring before you hand it off to Zoro, himself smelling it trying to suppress the surprisingly sharp smell.

Usopp debates on whether to tell then he sees you going to take a swig. “A Potion!” He yells reaching for the container. You stop right before the bottle touches your lips, pulling away your cock a brow at the man across the table.

“Potion?” Zoro questions.

“Okay so, a week or so ago I overheard someone talking about a potion so strong it gives you the strength of ten horses, ten horse man! Could you imagine what I could do with the strength of ten horses.” He rambles stopping once he sees the uninterested expressions of the two in front of them. “But it’s rare and could only be found here.” He finishes his rather short explanation you sit the random liquid down.

“And you how this is the exact potion? How?” You ask and Usopp just smiles sheepishly. “Well I mean if it’s not what’s the worst it could do?”

“Uh–I don’t know. Mutate us, shift our bodies. Change out Genders!!” You list out the tame possibilities but Usopp just shrugs as he pulls out two more cups for you and Zoro.

“I mean other than that, what could happen?” Usopp asks, taking the bottle in hand pouring double shots in each cup. The color of the drink was akin to blood and makes you judge their carefree attitude to the strange concoction.

“Zoro what do you think?” You turn to the silent man.

“I mean, I don’t need a strength potion but if it gets me drunk, sure.” Zoro says taking the cup Usopp hands him.

Huffing in annoyance you look down at the cup Usopp offers to you. Rolling your eyes you take it; “Fine, I’ll drink it. But not because both of you are doing it.” You grumble shooting the drink back in one gulp the sappy flavor overcoming your tastebuds.

You all wait for something, anything, to happen. But nothing, no bulging muscles appearing out of thin air, no ghastly mutation. Just a really, really strange taste.

“Well, then let's get this party started.” Usopp sounds disappointed as he pours another drink, this time normal bourbon.

You drink that one rather quickly, wanting to get the strange flavor of the other out of your mouth.

It only takes a few minutes for what you suspect is the ‘potion’ to kick in and it definitely makes you feel something. Your stomach felt queasy all the heat in your body going down.

You look at Usopp, who was already looking at you. You blink a few times, head feeling foggy, “Usopp..” You say stopping mid sentence for some peculiar reason. You want to finish, say ‘are you sure this is a strength potion’ but you can’t focus on anything but Usopp and his lips. When had his lips become so attractive?

“Y/N?” Usopps’ voice was dry making your thigh quiver for a second, Zoro definitely doesn’t miss it watching from the interaction from side taking another sip of bourbon.

You move to sit on your knees in the chair, head tilting to the side, eyes trailing over Usopp, low-lidded eyes, no jacket allowing you to see all of his muscles. With ypur gaurd down, no logical mind to stop think, you grab Usopp by his jaw pulling him into a soft kiss.

His lips felt exactly how you thought they would be, heavenly. The kiss slowly morphed from gentle to hungry. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you closer and guides you to his lap. You pushed deeper into the kiss teasing, testing to see how far he would go. He pulls away from the kiss, both of you gasping for air. His hands gripped your hips, both of you waiting for the other to attack.

You could feel how wet you were, surely your panties were already soaked; at this point you would take anything.

He flips you around sitting you sit in his chair now. His hand moves across the top of your shorts hand dipping inside. Moving your panties to the side slips two fingers teasing your slit before pushing past your folds.

He does a few experimental circles around your clit seeing what made you twitch and twist. “Oh..” you say heat grows through your body like a wildfire taking over a forest. Your legs spread, letting him move deeper, fingers teasing your tight entrance. He pushes inside, quickly opting for two digits he explores your body. Your bodies seemed to be hypersensitive as every touch felt like coals being thrown in a fire. Your hips moved in sync with Usopp's thrust, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

The way your walls pulse around his fingers, Usopp knows you're close.

“Be a good girl and cum,” He whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his slender fingers pumping in and out of you; thumb moving perfectly on your clit. Usopp looks up at Zoro who’s observed the entire situation but has yet to do anything. “If you cum you’ll get Zoros’ cock.” Your walls clench around him. “Oh, poor baby needs some cock.” Zoro mockingly teases, finally speaking once he sees the way your cunt responds at the mention of getting fucked.

And just like that you cum. Body shaking, the air in your throat catches as pure pleasure controls your mind, soul, and body.

Usopp pulls his fingers from you, looking at them they shine with arousal. On a sudden power trip Usopp stands up straight, smirking before shoving his fingers in Zoros’ mouth.

Taken back a bit he eyes Usopp but once your tangy flavor seeps into his mouth he doesn’t mind it, Zoro allows Usopp to have this little ego trip as he cleans you off of his digits.

You wish you could paint this moment, it was beautiful, they were beautiful. Usopp pulls away from Zoros’ warm mouth, fingers whispering against the green haired man’s bottom lip.

Zoro gets up from his seat, not once breaking eye contact with the other male. Usopp gulps once Zoro is at his full height, “Get over there.” Zoro instructs him to stand right next to you.

Allowing Zoro to lay you on the three chairs you once occupied, his lips connect to your neck leaving rough hickeys. Yelping when he hikes your leg up with a deathlike grip your foot hits the bottle knocking it to the ground, the rest of the elixr pouring out.

Zoros’ lips travel down your body, strong hands tearing your shirt down exposing your hardened peaks. He holds them his tongue exploring your chest, his hips moving slowly trying to suffice the need to be in your cunt. You can feel him harden beneath you.

Turning your head back to the spilt bottle your eyes center onto the illustration that covers the label.

You try to place where you’ve seen it before and then it clicks;

Asmodeus. Demon of lust.

Your face twists into a smile as you realize, it was never a strength potion.

You giggle as Zoro rips your bottoms and panties down, tip of his cock slipping and sliding on your soaking pussy. You can’t hold the pornographic cry that falls from your lips once he pushes in, bottoming out in one big thrust.

Zoro kisses you harshly once more if both of you were not under extreme influence you would have thought it gross how both of your saliva gathered as you made love to each others’ mouths.

He pulled away spit string pulling with him. He began to thrust, quickly becoming lost in your tight cavern.

As your body rocked you never lost eye contact with Usopp whose eyes were buglike and his bulging cock sat right in your face.

Moving your hands up you untie Usopps’ slacks letting them fall to the ground the only thing hiding his cock thin briefs. You palmed him biting your lip in anticipation and trying to keep in the moans Zoro seems so adamant to pull out.

He helps you pull his briefs down, his dick springing free. You thrust him in your hand, pre-cum leaking out. Using your thumb swiping over his crown using it as lubricant as you jack him off over your face.

You try to keep up the pace of your hand to Zoros’ thrust but your efforts were in vain making tears well in your eyes, the overwhelming need to please both of them consuming your mind. Opening your mouth you take him in, a raspy sigh leaves Usopp as you hollow your cheeks out, tongue swirling over his tip, egging his hips on to move.

Slowly he does his movements start slowly, his long cock quickly hitting the back of your throat but you take the rest of him.

Your air supply goes tight when he pushes on your throat feeling it wrap around his cock. He slides out letting you suck in as much air with your nostrils as possible before sliding back in. He tries to keep his thrust calm, collected. But it’s just so hard when you feel so good. He fucks your throat hard, almost as hard as Zoro torments your cunt.

Groans falling from the men and the muffled moans that could escape between Usopps’ wild thrust bounce throughout the room.

The coils in your tummy tighten with each thrust from either man. The lightheaded euphoria overtook you, possessing you. Your nerves shock as a volcano inside you erupted. The world went still, your lungs tightened as burning pleasure blasted its way through your body.

Zoro stifled a moan as your pussy spasms around him, he grabs onto Usopp's arm, shoving his face into your neck inhaling your pheromones and with one quick thrust both of them cum. Drinking down the salty liquid that feels your throat your cling to Zoro as he rides his high out.

The men pull out of you both helping to clean you up before all you're left with is silent.

Zoro grabs the bottle that didn’t fall off the table and pours two cups. One for him and one for you.

“Well, that just happened.” Usopp says sitting, shirtless, in his chair.

“Yeah, that did.” You say taking the shot with Zoro.

eddie teaching venom about love languages <33

"Physical touch is," Eddie starts, shoulder bumped up beside yours on the couch, but Venom cuts in, head hovering over Eddie's shoulder.

"That is the one where we fuck her." Venom announces proudly, toothy grin aimed in your direction. You stifle a laugh and Eddie groans, head tosses back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's the one where we fuck her," Eddie drawls, exasperated, "But that's also, like, holding hands, kissing, that kind of stuff."

"That one is my favorite." Venom declares, "I do not care about the other ones."

"Yes you do," You counter, and Venom's milky white eyes turn to you again, "'Cause there's gift-giving. That's when I bring you chocolate. And chickens."

"I gave Eddie the gift of a decapitated man once," Venom reminisces, "But he hated it. Does that mean he does not love me?"

"That's not a gift, buddy." Eddie shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the gory memory, "That's- I mean maybe you thought that was a gift, but gifts are supposed to be nice things, like flowers or a teddy bear."

"Teddy bears are useless!" Venom roars, and you know he's only speaking out of deep-seated loathing for your own stuffed animal, which the symbiote is rather jealous of.

"I would much rather receive a head," He huffs, turning back to Eddie, "Does it mean that you do not love me because you do not give me heads to eat?"

"No," Eddie rubs a tired hand over his face, "Let's- let's just move on. Uh, words of affirmation."

"You're so handsome," You croon at Venom, who blinks as you stroke the back of your hand along his goopy cheek, "And you're a great protector, I always feel safe around you."

"See?" Eddie nods, "Just like that. Nice things you say to the person you love."

"You are very small," Venom practices, and while it's true compared to his gargantuan size, it's not much of a compliment, "And I like that you feel safe around me even though I could easily rip your head off. And eat it. You would not stand a chance."

"We'll work on it," Eddie mutters, "Alright, acts of service."

"Like when Eddie gives me a shoulder massage," You hum, stretching out the tense muscles in your neck, "Or when I wash his hair for him in the shower. That's nice things you do for the person you love."

"I am good at that!" Venom boasts, "I make you breakfast sometimes."

"Yeah," Eddie nods, voice strained, and you play along even though you know that the attending to the mess that comes with Venom's cooking is more effort than doing it yourself, "Yeah, buddy, that's good. You're right, that's really nice of you."

"I am very nice," Venom agrees, bobbing his head up and down, "Are there more?"

"Quality time-" You and Eddie speak in unison, laughing sheepishly at each other. It's Eddie that continues, "Like what we're doing now. Sitting together, talking, just hanging out and being with each other."

"When he takes me on dates, too," You chime in, your voice a soft hum, "Or when you take me around the city, big guy."

You tap at Venom's cheek and he nods, blinking once in understanding.

"I like quality time," Venom decides, the thick black ooze connecting his head to Eddie's shoulder sucking him back in until his face is nestled between yours and Eddie's. It's an odd feeling on your hair but you and Eddie hold your positions anyways, intent on drilling non-sexual physical touch into the symbiote.

"Me too," You nod, and Eddie pitches in his confirmation, "Which one is your favorite, V?"

"Mm," The symbiote hums, but it sounds more like the revving engine of a car, "I do not know. I like getting gifts, but I like sitting with you, too. I like them all."

"Too hard to choose," Eddie agrees, "You?"

"More of the same," You conclude, turning your face so that your nose nudges Venom's cheek. He purrs, not unlike a cat, sounding more engine-like than ever, and his large eyes slip shut.

"Naptime," Eddie chimes, reaching over to grab your hand in his. You smile, puckering your lips to send him a kiss that you can't press to his cheek unless you break away from Venom. He pretends to catch it where the symbiote can't see, slapping it onto his cheek and acting injured at the recoil.

"Oh," He groans while you giggle, "You throw a mean kiss."

You settle against Eddie's side, and it's odd having Venom's face in between you to where you can't rest on the man's shoulder, but he's a nice pillow in and of himself. You're only seconds away from fully drifting off to sleep when Venom's jaw moves against your face, and he whispers (terribly), "Eddie. Are you awake?"

"Yes, Venom." Eddie groans, but by the sound of his voice, he wishes he wasn't, "What do you need?"

"I decided on a favorite," Venom informs Eddie, and you listen under the guise of closed eyelids, "I like the sex one best."

You can't help it; you let out a snort.

"Nice going, V," Eddie squeezes your hand, shutting his eyes once more and attempting to get comfortable, "I'm sure that's just the answer she wanted to hear."

I read your hc for Andy and i love it! I read it like 5 or 6 times. I have crush on Andy (crush on a fictional character is Silly i know) and Andy in this hc is sooo close to my imaginations. Exept that he got divorce after ten years from his wife (not laurie) which they always had problems an at the end she cheated on him and Andy saw them in bed! So if u accept request i want to ask for a hc Andy and young reader that she give him a BJ. Andy was just with her wife for like ten years and she really wasn't into it so this BJ is after long time and sooo diffrent from what he had in the past :)

notes: first of all, i’m so glad you liked that hc - it’s very near and dear to me and probably one of my favorite things i’ve written for andy! so i appreciate this ask as well :) i won’t lie, though, i did take some liberties with this because i felt more inspired keeping it in the same universe of the original hc! hopefully that’s okay, and you still enjoy this because i had an great time writing it - consider it our second look into fresh start!andy as i’ve started calling him! post break credit to the lovely @evansyhelp!

pairing: andy barber x reader.

warnings: 18+ / minors dni, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking but the tender kind, all in all sweet andy getting back into the swing of dating. you don’t have to read this previous headcanon to get this one, but it does add context for everything reader and andy are worried about! 

wc: 1.7k

The first night you spend at Andy’s house is an accident. You’ve only been dating a few weeks at that point; each one more wonderful than the last but moving, at his request, at a snail’s pace.

So, waking up in his bed, head pounding from wine the night before, feels like a foot on the gas that you can only hope hasn’t ruined things. From the looks of it, he didn’t join you – leave it to him to be so selfless — but you can’t decide if that makes this better or worse. And when you finally emerge from his room, face washed and tongue stinging from mouthwash, it’s with a heart braced for the cold shoulder. For Andy, aching from a night on the couch he wasn’t expecting and irked by the crossed boundaries. 

Instead, you’re met by his usual warmth; a broad smile when he sees you peek into the kitchen and a hand squeezing your hip when you’re close enough to reach. “Mornin’, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks like it’s nothing - like you’re right where you’re supposed to be - and when he presses a cup of something warm into your hands ( made just the way you like it ), you nod, preening.

Crisis averted.

The second time you spend the night, it’s storming. It’s in the depths of Massachusetts winter, just one month after the first night; so a blizzard isn’t all that shocking. But, it had been unexpected, the skies opening up to dump a few feet of snow in just a couple hours.

Andy had hosted dinner again and you’d taken extra care to pace yourself, not wanting to repeat the mistake from the month before. But after just one glance out the window as you pull on your jacket to go home, Andy himself nips that plan in the bud.

“Absolutely not,” he huffs when you insist you could make it back with your ‘state of the art tires’. “This isn’t stopping any time soon and there’s already a few feet down - just stay here and if it’s still bad in the morning, I can help take you back.” 

The invitation isn’t the problem — in fact, your chest warms at his worry, tender spreading through every part of you. But, you worry, still, about imposing after the last slip-up. Even with your wits about you, there’s so much that could go wrong; so much you could do to overstay your welcome the first time you’ve actually earned it. 

Caught up in your thoughts, you don’t notice Andy getting closer until he’s upon you, hands moving to guide yours off your coat. His touch draws your eyes to his face where he, again, has that big smile, this one laced with softness as he works your jacket off you. “Not sure what you’re thinking about so hard over here,” he muses, folding the coat over his arm once he’s done. “But, you’re not arguing with me anymore, so I’m going to take that as a win and get some blankets out here to keep us warm.” 

His lips come down on the swell of your cheek before he turns and as you watch him pad towards his bedroom, you feel your heart flutter in anticipation. 

There’s something about this you could get used to.

The third time you spend the night, Andy can’t stop kissing you. 

It isn’t the first time you’ve made out, now four months into your relationship and long past the nerves that made him clam up at anything beyond a peck. But, it is the most intense, the most indulgent it’s ever been.

It’d started with a night out; with dinner at his favorite restaurant and drinks at your favorite bars. Each new spot found you closer, touching more and more until the levee buckles and you’re in his lap, head spinning equal parts from the alcohol and him.

He gets you home without putting much distance between you, fingers skimming any skin he can reach as you wait for a ride and pulling you into him once you’re both in the backseat. But he doesn’t kiss you again until you’re alone; until you’re back in that small apartment that’s started to feel empty when you aren’t there and he can lick into your mouth until your knees knock. 

That’s all he really wants that night — to kiss until you’re both sick of it. But, some things have a way of taking a life of their own and it would seem tonight that that’s you. Or rather, the desire between you; this pent up, heavy thing that’s grown steadily for some time, but is at a full rage tonight, inevitably landing you here —-

You, on your knees before him while his chest squeezes with a desperate need.

He can’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this; could count on one hand the number of times Laurie took him into her mouth after those early years together. But, he knows better than to write his excitement – and the throbbing in his jeans – off as simply lust for what’s about to happen.

It’s because it’s you. It’s you who wants it, breathing the ache against his mouth so prettily – “Can we — could I taste you, Andy?” — he couldn’t deny you. It’s you sitting there, mouth moist from his kisses as you fish his cock out. It’s you sucking in that hungry breath, eyes watching the precum at his tip leak down over his veiny underside. And it’s you, his sugar-sweet girl, leaning up to trace it with your tongue until you can wrap your mouth around him.

The heat of it sends a jolt through him, something guttural rising from his chest as his hand finds the back of your head. You feel incredible; tongue slipping around him as if gauging the girth before your cheeks hollow and sets his entire body ablaze. “Jesus Christ,” he grunts, embarrassed by the way he actually has to work to keep his hips from bucking up.

You don’t make it any easier, of course. As if you can read his struggle in the tension at his shoulders, you start to move, head bobbing at a pace that’s slow to start. So much so that he’d think you were baiting him if he didn’t know any better. But, there’s something in your eyes, something in the way you devour his expression as much as you devour him that makes it clear that you just want to learn him - see what he likes, what makes it good.

The thought of it makes his body tremble and his fingers tighten some in their grip on the back of your head. It’s only slight, but you notice enough to move faster, the increased pace bringing with it messy sounds that make Andy lose his resolve, if only briefly, and rock his hips to meet your mouth. 

Horrified, he’s stuttering out an apology before you notice, even starting to sit up as if to guide you off, but your hand on his hip stops him cold. You pull off of his cock, but only enough to be heard; he can feel your lips against him as you talk, in butterfly kisses that make his legs jump. “‘S okay,” you breath, giving his hip a reassuring squeeze. “‘S okay.”

You smile then, the curve of it plush against his cock, before you’re taking him back into your mouth, this time to the hilt. Andy’s head falls back against the couch, lips parting in a silent groan that starts to rise as you take on the fastest pace so far. 

This time, he’s convinced you are baiting him, goading him to let go with the way you watch from under your lashes. And when his hip twitches under your hold, pulling one word from you before you’re back on him – “Please,” – Andy’s an absolute goner. 

Eager, but still nervous, he fucks up into your mouth slow at first; cursing at the depth and slick that comes when you’re coming down to meet him too. He’s only a couple, careful pumps in when your fingers dig into his hip and tug; needy, demanding.

You want more.

It bowls him over; how much you want, how much you’ll give. And even with some lingering concern about going too far, he’s finally started to lose his head. Inhibitions lowered, he’s fucking up faster, more intently, as he pants your name into the still of his apartment. And you’re there to meet every stroke, mouth so wide you’re practically drooling just to make it easier for him to press into your throat.

Before long, he’s close, embarrassingly so, and thinks he should at least warn you before he goes over the edge. But, the words don’t come, not in any way that matters, and he’s stuck with stuttered gasps to try and make do. “Baby, s-shit – I’m–” 

You catch on, quickly at that; but to Andy’s surprise, you don’t stop. No, you go faster, take him deeper until he’s lost to his climax, hips lifting all the way off the couch as he cums down your throat with an intensity that takes his breath away. And it’s only when you’re absolutely sure that you’ve gotten every drop that you pull off, a pleased sound rolling in your chest.

You barely have a chance to swallow or even wipe your mouth before Andy’s on you, hoisting you into his naked lap to bear down on you with kisses. His tongue fills your mouth like it’s seeking himself out in the edges and every time he tastes it, he grunts; kisses harder. 

You’ve unleashed something, you think.

But, you don’t have much time to dwell on it when he’s breaking the kiss, nose knocking yours gently before he gives you a sated smile. It’s different from those big, beaming ones you’re used to – dopey and not as wide, but lovely all the same. It stirs you so much, you plant another kiss for good measure before pulling him forward to catch his breath in the crook of your neck.

Content, Andy settles right where you want him, mouth to your still-stuttering pulse. He decides right then that there’s something about this he never wants to lose. 

Why We Pretend We Can't

Part 2 of Pretending You Can't

Requested Here!

Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!cop(analyst)!reader

Summary: Months after he realized how touch starved you are, Karadec continues helping you overcome your touch starvation and get used to touch.

Warnings: touchstarved r, emotional vulnerability, canon-divergent backstory for Karadec, minor injuries, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

High Potential Masterlist | Masterlist Directory | Request Rules/Info

“Lieutenant Melon asked to see you,” an officer tells you.

You look up from your desk in the Major Crimes bullpen and nod once. You’ve spoken to him a few times since you were transferred out of Robbery/Homicide, but an early-morning call can’t be anything good. Coming in early to complete reports has become a habit, but your routine is interrupted. You lock your computer screen before you stand, and when you brush your hands together, you realize that the muscles in your arms and hands have tensed.

Last night, you didn’t sleep well, thinking about your loneliness and relationships that aren’t where they should be. It’s a cycle you’re used to, but one you thought you left behind when you found a group of friends and realized that Adam Karadec’s hands feel like home. Yet, it’s been a long few months since his unexpected house call, and not every day can be good.

“Good morning,” you greet, knocking on Melon’s open door.

“Morning, traitor,” he replies. “I’ve got something I could use your help on.” You open your mouth to argue that you have a new job, but he cuts you off. “I promise it’ll only take a few hours. I need some intel and no one else seems to be able to find it.”

“What intel?” you inquire.

“String of robberies in the nicest neighborhoods of Los Angeles. The thieves seem to be targeting houses with expensive safes.”

“Marketed as impregnable?”

“Some, but not all. Most of these safes run upwards of $10,000, and they’re opening them like pocket doors. Current estimated losses from the insurance companies is around $2 million.”

“Homes have security systems?”

“They do. I’ve got a list of addresses, safe makes and models, security system information, and how much time the crew spent in each home.”

“How big is the crew? And how much time are they averaging?”

“Five people, from what we can tell, spending less than 9 minutes inside.”

You hum, somewhat impressed by the criminal crew's efficiency. “Email me the information and I’ll see what I can find.”

“You’re the best!”

“I’m not coming back,” you reply with a smile.

“It was worth a shot.”

Back at your desk, you organize Melon’s quickly-typed reports into a spreadsheet. Then, you pull up property records to look for any connection between the homeowners. You don't hear anyone enter the bullpen as you compare and analyze the information about the different security systems and safes.

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you jerk away from the unexpected touch. Morgan lifts her hand when you move and sends you a close-lipped smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she offers.

“It’s fine,” you reply, smiling as you shake your head. “I just didn’t hear you come in, lost in the work. Sorry.”

“What work?” she inquires, setting her bag on Karadec’s desk. “I thought we closed the last case yesterday.”

“The last case for now,” Oz corrects as he walks to his desk.

“I’m assisting Melon with a string of safe robberies.”

“He does remember that you’re not his gopher, right?” Daphne inquires.

“Do you guys carpool?” you wonder aloud.

“No, we just get to work on time,” Karadec answers, looking between you and Morgan. “You should try it sometime.”

“If you’re not early, you’re late.”

“And you’ll sleep when you’re dead?” Karadec challenges. “Thin line between dedication, obsession, and avoidance.”

“Are we taking a break from murder and mayhem for philosophy?” Soto interjects.

“Something like that,” Daphne replies. “Have anything for us?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then we can help with the safe cracking!” Morgan announces.

“I think I found the connection,” you say. “Every one of these safes was manufactured in California, and the homeowners purchased them from West Coast Safes. The safes are installed by a five-man team.”

“You think the installation team is robbing the safes,” Karadec clarifies.

“I do.”

He nods, and Daphne calls Morgan to her desk for her opinion. Karadec moves to stand beside you, and his gaze drops to your tense shoulders, your muscles tightened from holding your shoulders back and up as if you’re guarding yourself against something.

“What are they stealing?” he asks.

“Guns, jewelry, silver, the standard safe contents.”

“Are the safes specific to those contents?”

You hum, pulling up the specs once more. “All but one. The most recent robbery was a tactical safe, but the insurance claim lists precious metals as stolen.”

“They could be looking for something specific, then.”

“I’ll pass that along to Melon,” you offer. “Thank you.”

Karadec nods, watches you email your spreadsheet and findings, and then steps toward the door with you.

“I’ll be right back,” you remind him.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

You purse your lips, then nod. As you walk away, feeling Karadec’s eyes on you, you’re reminded of Morgan’s unexpected touch this morning. Karadec sees you past your professionalism and analytic abilities and sees the loneliness and touch deprivation you hide behind your smile. A few hugs from Karadec will help, but the emotions beneath longing for a caring touch won’t disappear if he stays close.

When you return from lunch – which you ate alone in your car because your friends are investigating an attempted assassination – there’s something in your chair. You pull it away from your desk and smile when you realize what it is. Last week, you investigated a stabbing in a neighborhood grocery store and saw a police officer Squishmallow. You couldn’t justify buying a stuffed animal for yourself, especially at a bloody scene. As you pull the soft koala into your arms, you smile. You suspect you know who may have noticed your infatuation with Detective Kirk. But there are no real clues as to which of your new friends gifted you the perfectly huggable detective. With him safe in your bag, you open a report and return to work, your heart feeling lighter with the knowledge that someone cares.

Running your finger along your opposite forearm, you attempt to soothe yourself and go to sleep. Your blankets are arranged comfortably, your new Squishmallow is cuddled against your side, and the mellifluous melody of white noise fills your room. Still, you can’t fall asleep because you feel as if you are drowning in your loneliness and sorrow. Your mind races with the idea that you’ll never be in a meaningful relationship, held just for the sake of it, or kissed breathless because someone can’t help but show you they love you.

Fighting the urge to reach for your phone, you close your eyes and try to imagine you’re somewhere else, living a different life. Your doorbell ringing interrupts that attempt to induce slumber. You ignore it, but the knocks that follow make you groan. Rather than looking at the doorbell camera, you remove yourself from your comfortable imitation of a nest, pull your robe on, and walk to the front door.

“Karadec,” you greet, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but you pulled back. I know I told you that you decide how far this goes, but if you don’t get some help, this is going to get worse.”

“I know,” you murmur. You open the door wider, tip your head inside, and close the door behind Karadec.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“I don’t want to pull away when someone I care about reaches toward me, but I can’t stop it,” you admit. “Morgan laid her hand on me this morning, and it hurt so much. I didn’t even think about it before I moved.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Why are you being so nice to me about this?” you inquire.

“Because I’ve been there,” he offers. “My old partner and I were friends, we hung out, slapped each other on the back, and then he left. I was alone, and before I even realized that I hadn’t been hugged in months, I was recoiling from every little thing.”

“How’d you make it better?”

Karadec shrugs. “I don’t think I did. I’ve always had a problem with touch-“

“The hand sanitizer,” you interject.

“Yeah… so when I started dreading people touching me, I kind of accepted it. You can’t do that.”

“You did.”

“You aren’t me. This is hurting you. It’s not just the pain of unexpected touch; there’s anxiety, stress, loneliness, and based on the fact that you opened the door, I’m betting you’re having trouble sleeping.”

“You Googled touch starvation, didn’t you?” you ask, lifting your brows.

“No,” Karadec answers, incredulous. “I asked Morgan.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you step closer to Karadec.

“Do you want to talk to someone?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to become a cat person and have them to cuddle?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want any help?”

“I… I don’t know. The only time I can remember enjoying being touched was with you.”

Karadec doesn’t reply, and you close your eyes, realizing how it sounded.

“Sorry,” you offer. “I just mean- I don’t have many people in my life, and that was new. But it was different.”

Karadec nods, but your eyes are still closed. He reaches toward you, stops an inch short, and lets his warmth linger. With his eyes on your face, he doesn’t notice you lean forward until your hand bumps into his.

“Why me?” you ask, blinking your eyes open but not moving your hand.

“Why not you?” Karadec challenges.

“That’s not an answer.”

You turn your hand, pressing your palm to Karadec’s larger one. He swipes his thumb across your knuckles, and you shiver at the feeling. Your shoulders drop at his touch, your tension loosening at the physical statement that you are not alone, that someone cares about you.

“Detective Kirk,” you say.

“Who?” Karadec asks, his brows lifting.

“The Squishmallow,” you explain. “Was that from you?”

“Cuddling something can help.”

“Thank you.”

“The less touch-starved you are, the easier it will be to encounter unfamiliar touch.”

“So, you’re saying that if I want to stop overreacting to being touched, I need to be touched more. That sounds like a solid plan,” you deadpan.

“I’m saying that this isn’t 0 to 60, you’re going to have to warm up to being touched. Hold someone’s hand sometime, shake a stranger’s hand, and then ask for a hug. Little things to adjust.”

“I can’t just do that, Karadec.”

He looks pointedly at your interlaced fingers, then back up at your face. Settled on the back of your couch, he’s shorter than you, and you look over his head as you smile.

“You know what I mean.”

“Then do it with me, but don’t let yourself spiral in this.”

“We’ll have to invest in bulk hand sanitizer,” you muse.

Karadec’s gaze wanders around your home, and when he sees your fridge - and the to-do list on it - he tilts his head in thought. “You’re task-driven, analytic, right?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you murmur.

“Here’s your first task-“

“Are you my therapist now?”

“First task,” Karadec repeats sternly. “This week, find an opportunity to comfort someone with touch. A hand on their shoulder, tap the back of their hand during a shake, whatever it may be. It can be 2 seconds or 20 minutes, but you initiate it.”

“I… okay, I can do that.”

“Good.” Karadec lifts his free hand to your waist, and you step into his touch. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much now,” you whisper.

Karadec smiles, then jokes, “First two visits are free of charge.”

“… doesn’t get me.”

Karadec hears Ava but hasn’t seen Morgan all morning. He walks toward the office where he thinks she is and stops when he hears another voice.

“Do you get her?”

Aware that he’s intruding, Karadec turns away, but he sees you through the blinds. Your hand rubs comforting circles on Ava’s back, and Karadec returns to the bullpen with a smile.

“Where is she?” Karadec demands as he enters the emergency room. “Now.”

“3rd door,” the nurse answers quickly, pointing down the hall.

“What was he thinking?” Karadec asks Daphne. “She’s an analyst.”

“She’s really good at more than analyzing, you know that,” Daphne reminds him. “It was an audible, and she could have said no.”

“He shouldn’t have asked!”

“Hey, you need to calm down before we go in there.”

Karadec slows, taking a deep breath as he heeds Daphne’s advice. The call that you were injured came as a surprise. You were going to look at a safe, accompanied by three police officers, yet you’re in the emergency room, and they’re unharmed back at the station.

“Hey,” Daphne greets, smiling at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you answer. “They’re overreacting.”

“Melon said someone tried to put a drill bit through your head,” Karadec says, stepping inside the curtain. “They’re allowed to overreact.”

“He didn’t,” you reply. “I’m fine.”

Karadec looks at your face and then down your arms. You sport a few scrapes and a forming bruise or two, but otherwise, you look the same as you had at the station.

“Daph, give us a minute?” you request.

“Of course. Need anything?”

You shake your head, and she winks at you before she leaves. Morgan, Daphne, and Oz have known about your feelings for Karadec since you walked into the Major Crimes bullpen a few months ago to answer questions about a suspect you’d investigated before.

“Karadec, I’m okay,” you assure him.

“You shouldn’t have been put in a position to be injured,” he argues.

“Come here?” you ask, beckoning him closer.

He walks to the side of the hospital bed, and you push yourself to sit up before you drape your legs over the side. Karadec holds his hands toward you, ready to assist you.

“Can I please have a hug?” you request.

“Are you sure?” he checks.

You smile and nod, so Karadec leans forward, wrapping his arms lightly around your waist as you circle your arms over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you say against his shoulder.

Karadec feels you relax, and he tightens his grip on you. You’re adjusting to touch – slowly, but it’s happening – and now you’re asking for it. He knew things were improving when he saw you comforting Ava earlier. Still, he didn’t expect you to initiate a hug this quickly.

“Only for you,” you say.

“Hmm?” he hums in question.

“You’re the only person I can touch without panicking,” you repeat. “For now, at least.”

Karadec pulls back to look at your face and brushes his finger over a scrape on your temple. “Then take whatever you want,” he offers.

A week after your unfortunate encounter with the safe crackers, you accompany Melon to arrest them and accidentally abandon your team in a time of need. Repentant, you get Karadec’s address from Soto and approach his apartment a few minutes before 11 p.m.

You hesitate before you knock on Karadec’s door. His late-night visits to check in on you seemed very out of character for him and still do, despite his explanation that he has been through what you’re struggling with and wants to help. You know he’s awake, but you won’t press him to talk or knock again, you decide. A minute passes, then two, and you shift on his doorstep as you prepare to leave.

“Hey,” Karadec says, pulling his door open.

“Hi,” you greet, wringing your fingers together. “I’m sorry for just showing up, but I heard about what happened with Oz. I should’ve been there.”

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes to your shoes. “None of us should have been there.”

“You got everyone home safe, though, Adam. That’s what matters.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Daphne told me you saved his life. He’s still here, focus on that.”

Karadec shakes his head again, and you step into his door, raise your hands, and cup his face. “Don’t think about what could have happened. It’s a slippery slope.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you inside before he pushes the door closed behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“You told me to comfort someone. I told you that I didn’t mind when you touched me.”

You move your right hand to his neck, tipping his face toward yours.

“Stay here with me,” you plead. “You’ve been helping me since we met. Let me return the favor.”

“It wasn’t a favor,” he argues, shaking his head in your hold. “You don’t have to repay it.”

“Then let me stay, just because.”

“Why?”

Your hand slides off his jaw, surprised by his question, but he catches your wrist and uses it to pull you closer.

“Why do we pretend we can’t do this? You feel it, I know you do. But we circle around each other, terrified that we’ll bring out the worst in each other.”

“Maybe the worst is all we can see in ourselves.”

Karadec presses his lips together, and you don’t hesitate this time. No more pretending, giving yourself excuses, or finding reasons it won’t work. That you won’t work together.

You press your chest to his, angle your chin toward his face, and kiss him. He freezes, flexing his hands at your sides before he holds you like he never wants to let go. Karadec is the one source of touch you can never be scared of, grow tired of, get enough of, and as you move together, you begin to see the good. You can’t regrow the trauma from before now, even if you left, because Karadec is one of a kind. You’re where you belong.

“Still think I’m your therapist?” he mumbles when you pull back for a breath.

“My place?” Morgan asks the following morning.

You hug Morgan rather than answering. She pats your back awkwardly, then returns the affection.

“Thank you,” you say against her shoulder.

“Not necessary,” she replies.

“Why don’t we all go out to dinner?” Oz suggests.

“I’m in,” you agree, pulling away from Morgan. “We’re a family, right?”

“Well, that answers that question,” Daphne muses.

“What question?” Karadec asks, pulling his eyes from you.

“The will they portion of what I told you to avoid.”

“It took my nearly dying to get you two there?” Oz deadpans.

“Don’t say it like that,” Karadec chides.

“What are we talking about?” Soto inquires.

“Family dinner,” Morgan answers, laying her hand on your shoulder.

California Dreams

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Nolan!reader (John's younger half-sister)

Summary: You move to California to be closer to your brother John after your mom dies. There, you meet Tim Bradford and begin dating. When your boyfriend and brother meet each other, you're surprised to learn it isn't their first interaction.

Warnings: r and John have the same mom, mostly fluff, brief angst, flirty and soft Tim

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Pennsylvania and California are completely different. When your older half-brother John flew out to Pennsylvania after your mom passed, he kept you at arm’s length. You were close growing up and stayed close into adulthood, so the sudden distance confused you. It wasn’t until after the funeral that you realized he was protecting you from the drama that may have tainted how you remembered her. More than what you already knew, at least. That wasn’t what shocked you the most, though. Most shocking was the question John asked before he left: Would you consider moving to California? We’re family. It took a few weeks, but once you were alone in the place where you grew up, you decided that John was right. So, you packed up your life and moved across the country. That change was the first of many.

“John,” you groan over the phone. “You practically raised me, but you won’t help with this? You’re not a very good brother.”

“I’m an excellent brother if I made you the person you are,” he counters. “But I have work, so it’s not that I won’t help you buy a mattress, but that I don’t have time.”

“Bailey would help.”

“Bailey also has to work.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll just move back to Pennsylvania then.”

“You sound like Mom,” John says before he laughs.

“Hurtful. I have to go.”

“Enjoy shopping. Love you.”

“Clearly,” you mumble. “Be safe.”

You end the phone call and look around the neighborhood. Maybe walking aimlessly while talking wasn’t the best idea. Every house looks the same, and you don’t remember if you turn right or left to get back to your house.

“Excuse me,” you call to a man walking a dog across the street. “Sorry, I just moved here, and I don’t remember how to get back to my street. Could you help me?”

He nods before he jogs across the street to talk to you. “Sure. Which street?” he asks kindly.

You tell him and he looks toward his right to explain, “Turn left at this corner, go down two streets, make a right, and it’ll be on the right.”

“Left, two streets, right, right,” you repeat. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

His eyes drop to your Penn State shirt, and you roll your shoulders to stand straighter. If you knew you were going to meet a gorgeous man on this walk, you would have changed out of your moving/cleaning outfit.

“Can I ask you a favor in return?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, pinching your brows together.

“Join me for lunch?”

Your brows unfurrow quickly to raise. He must feel bad for you, being new in the area.

“Or dinner, whichever works better,” he adds after a moment of silence.

“For what?” you inquire softly.

“A date, or a welcome, if you prefer.”

“You’re asking me out? Why?”

“Why not?” he counters with a heart-stopping smile.

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with questions?”

“Are you going to accept my invitation?”

You shake your head to clear it before answering, “I’d love to go out with you. Lunch sounds amazing. Give me a few minutes to change?”

“I’ll come pick you up in twenty. Meet you at your corner?”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good,” you ramble. You take a step to go past him before you stop. “Can you tell me how to get there again?”

He tips his head back to laugh before repeating the directions. As you walk, you repeat left, two streets, right, right; left, two streets- why did he ask me out? – right, right.

When you exit your house twenty minutes later, he is waiting at the corner just as he said. He leans against the driver’s door and smiles when he sees you walking toward you. Your decade-old Penn State shirt and paint-stained bottoms have been exchanged for a date-worthy outfit, yet he looks at you the same way as he had before.

“Before we go on a date, I thought I should at least introduce myself properly. I’m Tim,” he says, offering his right hand.

You shake it, surprised by how gently he touches you. He repeats your name softly after you introduce yourself, and as he helps you into the passenger seat, you know that moving to California was the right choice. For more reasons than John.

“I’m stealing his best brother ever mug. He doesn’t deserve it,” you huff.

Your hands are on your hips as you look at the mattress on your driveway. When John said he’d drop it off for you after work, you thought he’d bring it in. No. He left it in the middle of the night and sent you a text to let you know it was there. Based on what he’s told you about being a cop, you should be grateful that it wasn’t stolen, but now you have to figure out how to get it inside and on your new bed frame by yourself.

“I can do this,” you tell yourself.

Someone clears their throat on the sidewalk behind you, and you turn quickly.

“Tim,” you breathe out, relieved to see him rather than a stranger. “Hi.”

He nods in place of greeting before he looks to the mattress. “Did your brother drop that off?”

“How did you know that?”

He points to a piece of cardboard taped to the end closest to the road. You walk toward him and sigh when you read it.

“Enjoy. Love, your favorite brother,” you read. “He’s such a jerk.”

“Really?” Tim questions.

“No,” you admit, rubbing your jaw briefly. “He had to work late and didn’t want to wake me up to get it in.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, it’s fine.” You turn toward Tim to ask, “Did we have plans?”

“I was hoping we could make some. But seeing as you have a mattress to babysit, maybe I’ll come back later.”

“Give me twenty minutes,” you request quickly. You look at the size of the mattress and amend, “Thirty, tops.”

“Or…” Tim begins, leaning in. “You could just let me help.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Get the mattress inside and then we can go?” you agree.

Tim shakes his head, betrayed by his smile, as he steers you toward the mattress.

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“I just told you. I’m here to take you on a date.”

“No, I mean, why aren’t you at work?”

Tim shrugs as he squats. He flips the mattress on its side effortlessly, and you step back as you watch his arms flex under his sleeves. “Do you want to watch or help?”

You clear your throat quickly and walk to the other end. “Help,” you whisper.

“Do you trust me?” Tim asks dramatically.

“Run me into a wall and you’ll regret it,” you answer.

Tim scoffs before he instructs you to walk backward toward your front door. Within a few minutes, Tim has the mattress inside, out of its protective wrapping, and placed on your bedframe. He leans against the end of the mattress while you change, and rushes to hug you when you emerge.

“You’re happy today,” you murmur as you return his tight grip.

Tim hums in reply before he leads you to his truck. The bouquet waiting for you on the passenger seat makes you happy, but suspicious. His dropping by mid-morning to take you out isn’t inherently odd, but the rush to get you wherever it is he’s taking you is interesting.

Tim parks outside the restaurant he took you to the day you met. You said you loved the food, but Tim has been expanding your California taste by taking you to different restaurants on every date you’ve been on in the last two months.

“Are we going to go in?” you ask softly.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks quickly.

You grab Tim’s hand as your smile grows. “Tim, look at me?” you request. When he turns his face and sees your smile, you answer, “I’d love to. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Fine, not much would make me happier,” you correct with a chuckle.

“Thank you.”

“Is that the proper response?” you tease.

Tim rolls his eyes but leans across the console to kiss you before lunch. Moving to California was certainly life changing.

“You’ve been busy,” John says as he walks into your house.

“I know we’re family, but there’s this thing called knocking. It’s all the rage in Pennsylvania, you should try it,” you call from the kitchen.

“Then why’d you give me a key?”

“Because California is scary.”

John shakes his head as he joins your side. You shove him away from the oven before he can touch the food, and he scoffs as his hand raises to his chest.

“After every meal I’ve made for you!” he exclaims.

“Thanks for the mattress. I think you could’ve dropped it off a little nicer, but I appreciate it.”

“Where is it? I thought I’d be helping you carry it in when I came over.”

“One of my neighbors saw me staring at it and mumbling about how terrible you are and helped me get it in.”

“You let a stranger into your house?” John asks loudly. “Have you learned nothing?”

“John-“

“This is not Pennsylvania. We don’t know everyone and their dads. That was incredibly stupid. He could’ve been casing the place!”

“I never said it was a man,” you mumble.

“Okay, she could’ve been casing the place!”

“Hello?” Bailey asks from the front door. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you answer while John yells, “She let a stranger in here!”

“Let her explain,” Bailey requests calmly.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “John, I know you’re worried about me, but I wouldn’t let anyone that I didn’t trust into my house. You know that.”

“And you trust your neighbors after two months?” he asks.

“When he’s my boyfriend, yes, I do,” you answer, tired of arguing with him.

Bailey looks between you and Nolan, and mouths Good job when you meet her eyes.

“Since when?” Nolan asks after a moment.

His voice is back to its normal level, and he’s your half-brother again, not a protective cop who thinks you’re in danger.

“Officially? A couple of hours. We’ve been dating for two months, though. We met the week I moved in,” you explain. “He helped me out. I didn’t tell him anything personal until I got to know him better, I promise.”

“I trust you, I do,” Nolan assures. “Sorry for yelling and worrying.”

“I want you to meet him soon, John. Just give me a little time, okay?”

“That sounds nice, and I won’t pry before then. Promise.”

“I will,” Bailey interjects. “What’s he like?”

“He’s amazing,” you answer.

Nolan lets his head fall back; he hasn’t listened to you talk about boys since you were in high school, and he thought he would never have to again. That doesn’t mean he isn’t happy for you, and you know that.

“Hey,” Tim greets as you open the door. “I brought your favorite snacks and popcorn.”

“I love you,” you sigh dreamily.

“Should’ve brought popcorn sooner,” he muses.

“I need to ask you something before we start the movie, though.”

Tim freezes in your kitchen.

“I didn’t say we need to talk, Tim. Just have something to ask,” you clarify. “It’s not bad.”

“Go ahead,” Tim agrees.

“Will you come over for dinner on Friday and meet my brother?” you ask, wringing your fingers together.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. He’s- he’s all I have left since my mom died. I know that it’s a lot to ask-“

“Yes,” Tim interjects. “I’ll be here. Tell me what to bring.”

“That was easy,” you mumble.

“I have a hard time saying no to you,” Tim admits.

You smile, and Tim shakes his head. He points to the couch, and you walk away from him to get comfortable for movie night. You understand his dilemma completely. All you can do now is hope that John doesn’t do anything to push Tim away; you don’t think he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but he can be overbearing and protective.

Tim parks on the street in front of the house beside yours. He sits in his truck for a moment before he gets out. You told him he didn’t need to bring anything (repeatedly, because he asked a lot), yet he carries a case of your favorite drink as he approaches your driveway.

“Bradford?”

Tim looks up from the sidewalk and sees a familiar truck and face in your driveway.

“Nolan?” he asks.

“What are you doing here?” they ask simultaneously.

Neither answer but square their shoulders and stare at one another. They’re both protective, for different reasons, and the surprise of seeing each other brings that out. As they continue evaluating one another, trying to think of a logical explanation but failing because they’re thinking of you, the front door opens.

You step out and see your brother and boyfriend staring at one another in your driveway. They don’t look up, so you walk toward them. Your smile drops as your excitement evaporates. Maybe one of them said something or they came in with assumptions. Whatever is happening between them, you can’t risk losing either of them.

“Why is Tim Bradford here?” Nolan asks suddenly.

“I’m her boyfriend. Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“Boyfriend?!” Nolan repeats incredulously.

“Stop, both of you,” you say. “Just- just come in and I will explain everything.”

Tim tears his attention from John and follows you inside. He whispers an apology as he sets the drinks on your counter. When John walks in, though, Tim goes back to the hardened cop John knows. You’ve seen Tim’s protective side before, so you aren’t surprised by his change in attitude.

“Tim, John is my big brother. Half-brother, technically, but we’re incredibly close, so I wanted you to meet him. John, Tim is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a couple of months, so I thought it was time to let you meet him,” you explain.

“Why didn’t you tell me I worked with your boyfriend?” John asks.

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell her you were a cop?”  he asks Tim.

“He did,” you interrupt. “But he’s Metro, so I just assumed you hadn’t met. That one’s on me.”

“Well,” Tim begins, “nice to meet you, John.”

“What are you talking about?” John inquires.

“I’ve only met cop John, not brother John. Does he talk less?”

“More,” you mumble.

“That’s enough out of you,” John tells you.

“I have to go finish dinner,” you say. “Be nice.”

“I’m not going to give you the whole talk, but don’t hurt her,” John says quietly.

“I wouldn’t,” Tim promises. “I promise you that.”

“She’s happy. Thank you.”

“She’s amazing.”

“That’s because I raised her.”

Tim presses his lips together and slaps Nolan’s shoulder as he says, “No it’s not.”

“Thank you both for coming,” you say after you clear the table. “And I’m sorry for making everything awkward by not mentioning you to each other.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tim replies.

“You had no way of knowing,” John agrees. “We’ll stop fighting.”

“In front of you,” Tim says into his glass.

“I’ve got an early shift, so I have to head out,” John says as he stands.

He hugs you and says goodbye, and you walk him to the door before returning to Tim. You perch on his leg rather than sitting across from him now that you’re alone. He tilts his head to kiss you, and you relax against him. Dinner was both better and worse than you hoped. It worked out, though, and that’s what matters.

“I’m so glad you don’t act like your brother,” Tim says as you pull back.

“Don’t make this weird,” you reply as you lean in to kiss him again.

When you lean away and stand, Tim follows you wordlessly. You retrieve another drink from the case he brought but set it aside to wrap your arms over Tim’s shoulders.

“Who won the staring contest?” you ask.

“Clearly, I did. I wouldn’t have stayed otherwise,” he answers.

“You and John… you’re both protective, but you put that aside to do it together, or whatever that quiet conversation was. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I’m supposed to thank you. You’re the one who introduced me to your family. I just asked a yes or no question.”

“That’s not true. I met Kojo.”

Tim smiles as he pulls you closer. He and Nolan may not get along perfectly (who does? you remind yourself), but they both love you in their own ways. When Nolan said dreams come true in California, you thought it was a cheesy ploy to convince you to move, but he was right. Your dream is kissing you right now, and you’ve never been happier.

Tastes of Home and Cake

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!baker!reader

Summary: You own a popular bakery frequented by celebrities, but when the Mid-Wilshire police station hires you for a luncheon, you go out of your way to make cakes, cupcakes, and favourites to make the day special.

Warnings: fluff, Tim bring grumpy toward everyone except his wife who makes him a softie

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“The cast of Rings of Power will be here at 10:00 tomorrow instead of 10:15, is that okay?” your assistant, Kasey, asks.

“Of course,” you respond as you spin a tart pan to remove an air bubble from the filling. “Did you hear back from the Scuderia Ferrari people?”

“Oh, yes. I fit Charles and Lewis in for a lunch and tasting five days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix in November of next year.”

“Perfect!”

You pass the tart to one of your bakery sous chefs before you follow Kasey out of the kitchen. The small dining area of your bakery is full, and the door has been closed and locked to give your clients a private meal.

“Good afternoon,” you greet after removing your apron and straightening your outfit. “It’s a pleasure you have you here, and I hope you enjoy everything.”

After several minutes of speaking to your customers and promising to fit them into your booked schedule when they finish filming in several months, you return to Kasey’s side.

“How do you keep your cool talking to celebrities every day?” she inquires. “I talk to their agents on the phone and get a little starstruck.”

“Well, he’s one of the nicest people on the planet,” you point out, referring to Pedro Pascal sitting behind you. “And, at the end of the day, they’re still people. Well-known and sometimes really mean, but they’re customers, just like the small population of Los Angeles that we serve for a few hours every morning.”

“Speaking of that, I need to get back to the people in the LA Times about the feature they want to do on the bakery. Do you want to do it?”

You stop by a tray of cookies and sigh. “I don’t know. Part of me says yes, but then the side that isn’t caught up in the business wonders if it’s worth it to get longer lines and higher wait times.”

“Did you talk to your super-secret boyfriend about it?”

“I did. He wasn’t much help, basically said to do what I thought was right. Just… tell them not right now. If they take that as a no, that’s fine.”

Kasey nods and jots a note in her always-present journal before she notices the whiteboard where you make plans for tastings and events.

“Is all of that for the LAPD luncheon you’re catering?” she inquires, wide-eyed at the quantity and quality of items. “You know they’re paying a flat rate, right?”

“Kasey, I’m going to tell you a secret,” you reply as you slip your apron over your head. “My ‘super-secret boyfriend’ that you constantly ask about… He’s a cop. And my husband.”

“That explains the Madagascan vanilla shortbread cookies,” she mumbles. “Wait, can I meet him?”

“Me first!” one of your regular celebrities yells from the dining area.

You roll your eyes in amusement and then begin working on the croissants for the sandwiches and the dulce de leche cake for Mid-Wilshire’s annual officer appreciation party.

“This is Officer Thorsen,” Kasey introduces as you exit your car at the police station.

“Aaron,” you greet, welcoming his hug.

“Please tell me the department sprung for my favourite,” he replies.

“I might have thrown in a few goodies.”

“You are the best. I was honestly surprised when I heard they’d chosen your bakery.”

You shake your head at Kasey to remind her not to say anything. To her surprise, they didn’t contract with you because your husband works here, just because of your reputation in Los Angeles. The people working in this station don’t even know you have a relationship with one of their own, so your expanded menu should appear to be a nice surprise, showing your appreciation for the brave men and women who keep you and your city safe.

“This is my watch commander, Wade Grey,” Aaron introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer as you shake his hand.

“You, too. My wife has been wanting to visit your bakery, but we never seem to make it in time,” he replies.

“I’ve got some extras packed away in the van if you’d like to take her something. It’s the least I can do.”

“Baker to the stars… how do you like dealing with so many high profile people every day?”

“Most of them are great, just looking for a place to eat some carbs without the paparazzi. There are a few that I try not to have availability for, of course, but it’s the baking that I really love. My assistant handles most of the people side of things.”

“Well, we can’t thank you, and Kasey, of course, enough for fitting us into your schedule. We’ve been looking forward to it for a while.”

“Of course. I hope you don’t mind but I did throw in some free treats, just my way of saying thank you.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you. Let me know if you need any help setting up or finding anything.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Grey.”

After he returns to his duties, you try to let Aaron return to work, but he insists on helping you set up. Thirty minutes later, the bullpen has been turned into a space of food, appreciation, and more cakes and cupcakes than you remember making.

“I thought you said a few freebies?” Aaron murmurs. “Did you leave anything in the bakery?”

“I hope so. Ryan Reynolds will be a little disappointed if I didn’t,” you respond lightly. “I think I’m done here. Thanks for your help, Aaron.”

“Of course- I’m sorry, Ryan Reynolds?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

Someone gasps, and a moment later, Officer Chen runs up to Aaron’s side and smiles as she says your name.

“I watched the Food Network special on your bakery,” she exclaims. “I’ve never been more excited to eat in my life.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” you reply. “Thank you for all you do.”

“You might want to get food now, Lucy. It looks like a lot but it won’t last forever,” Aaron suggests.

“Precisely my plan,” Wade agrees as he exits his office. “It looks great.”

Standing back, you watch officers come in, chat with one another, and get plates of food and treats.

“That’s a lot of cake,” someone says behind you.

“It’s like you’re trying to set up the joke, Tim,” you respond without turning.

His fingers dance across your back before he moves to stand beside you.

“Too much?” you ask.

“No. I for one appreciate it. I’m glad my getting shot at equals roughly that much cake.”

You lean sideways to hit Tim with your shoulder, and he smiles as he rights himself. He moves away from you when he sees several officers walking toward you with cake and cookies on their plates.

“This is by far the most delicious cake I’ve ever had,” one says. “My mother-in-law is throwing me and my husband an anniversary party and if I have this cake, I’ll actually go.”

“She’s booked through spring of 2027,” Tim interjects. “So, unless you want to get on the waiting list for a tenth anniversary cake, it’s not gonna happen. Tell Mrs. Evers you can’t make it.”

“2027?” the woman beside her muses. “Good for you.”

“Thank you,” you answer. “You all have much more important jobs than me, though. Maybe my assistant can fit you in, so you don’t have to miss your own party.”

“See, Timothy? That’s what being nice gets you,” Angela taunts.

“Well, he’s actually the reason I even brought that cake,” you point out.

Angela cocks her head slightly, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth as she looks from Tim back to you. The woman beside her, who you assume is Nyla Harper based on Tim’s detailed stories, watches you with similar interest.

“It’s not even my favourite,” Tim grumbles.

“Don’t start with me, Bradford.”

“You made me taste test a bunch of stuff last weekend and I told you it’s good but not Malibu Rum cake good. There is no Malibu Rum cake.”

“Tim, she brought way more than we expected,” Lucy says as she joins your small circle. “Be nice.”

Tim sees your smile and rolls his eyes. Kasey walks by, on the phone with assumably another agent, and passes you three small boxes.

“For you,” you tell Tim. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it now.”

He sees your writing on the corner above the clear plastic top, Malibu Rum <3, and tugs your belt loop to reach a plastic fork on the table behind you.

“Officer Chen, this is for you,” you say, passing her a box. “And this one is for Aaron, who-“

“I’m here. Don’t give it away,” Aaron says, seeming to appear out of nowhere to take the box of his favourite cake with a new cookie.

“Maybe I should get on your waiting list,” Angela muses as she finishes her slice of cake.

“You can jump the line,” you promise.

“What do I do to get Bradford’s taste testing position?” Nyla inquires. “Because if everything you make is a quarter as good as that Pumpkin Maple Biscotti cupcake was, I’ll do anything.”

“I think that privilege is limited to marriage,” you explain with a frown. “But next time I make an entire test batch, I’ll bring some by.”

Sergeant Grey stops behind the three silent women standing before you. They watch you, ignoring Tim as he enjoys his cake.

“So…” Angela begins before shaking her head.

“You bake for celebrities, and you’re married to Tim Bradford?” Lucy inquires.

“You turned down my proposals for him?” Aaron interjects, his brows furrowed together as he returns with a croissant sandwich (after his cake, you notice and make a mental note to tell his mom to watch his reaction).

“One, you proposed just because you like the way a caramel apple souffle tasted, and two, I was already married to Tim,” you reply. “Which seems to be very surprising for some reason.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I said I wanted to hire her for this?” Wade asks Tim.

Tim shrugs and says, “I didn’t think she’d work you in regardless. Kasey and I told her to charge double.”

“Hypothetically,” Nyla begins, “if I invite you over for dinner and ask for your help, would you cook like this?”

“She wouldn’t help,” Tim answers. You elbow him gently and say, “Of course. It’s the only way I can cook, I think. I prefer baking though.”

“I have so many questions,” Angela murmurs.

“Me too,” Lucy agrees. “Like where’s the farthest place someone has come from to eat at your bakery? Are you allowed to say names?”

“Most of the time I can, after they’ve left, of course. And I think Chris Hemsworth coming from Australia was the farthest.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know Tim was married,” Nyla points out.

“Yeah, yeah, you can ask questions later,” Tim interrupts.

“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly.

“You can ask, didn’t say I’d answer.”

Tim takes your hand and pulls you away from them, but you wave over your shoulder and thank them once more before you’re in the privacy of a hallway.

“I could fit Angela in,” you tell him.

“Don’t really care,” he admits – honest and blunt as ever – before he kisses you.

“You taste like cake,” you whisper as you pull back.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“Probably before you. I’ve got an appointment at three and then I’m done. You?”

“Around six. I’ll bring dinner?”

“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Bradford.”

“And you want me to give Angela and Lucy your number,” he guesses, squeezing your waist playfully.

“Smart and handsome! Yes, please, oh and Nyla and Wade. I need to make sure his wife gets to come in, apparently she’s been trying.”

“Isn’t this Kasey’s job?”

“Kasey is mad that I didn’t tell her I was married, and you have to see them all the time. Be nice and help me out and I’ll bring more of the rum cake home.”

Tim kisses you once more before you leave the station to prepare for your next celebrity visit. His subsequent interrogation at the station makes him more eager to get home to you. When he finally walks in with your favourite takeout, welcomed by the smell of brown sugar and butter, Tim knows he’s home.