How About Something Where Peter And Reader Are Having Sex But Reader Gets A Bad Calf Cramp Midway. Peter

Shoulder to Cry On

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (w/ 3 y.o. daughter)

Summary: When your daughter Mia is taken hostage, Tim Bradford holds you together and offers a strong shoulder to cry on.

Warnings: child abduction, discussion of past criminal activity, r has a daughter from a previous relationship, angst to fluff

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Your phone rings, and you reluctantly pull your hand from Tim’s to check it. The caller ID displays ‘Unknown,’ and you send the person to voicemail.

“Everything okay?” Tim inquires. “Was that the babysitter?”

“No, everything’s fine. Where were we?”

“We were talking about your dream date.”

“I don’t remember that,” you reply with a smile. “But I think I might already be on it.”

Your phone rings again, and Tim gestures for you to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Four… hundred… thousand,” the distorted voice says slowly.

“I think you have the wrong number,” you reply.

The voice says your name, then asks, “Mother of Mia? I’ll take that sharp inhale as a yes. The price is 400 grand.”

“Price for what?”

Tim watches you with pinched brows, and you avoid meeting his eyes.

“Say hi,” the voice demands.

“Mommy,” your daughter Mia cries.

“400 grand by tomorrow night.”

Realizing that this unknown person has your daughter, you raise your wide eyes to meet Tim’s.

“What?” he asks.

“Ooh, is that the cop? Put him on,” the man on the other end of the phone demands.

You pass the phone to Tim without a word, then grip the napkin in your lap tightly. Tim doesn’t speak, but his jaw tightens with each passing second. He ends the call and then stands.

“Tim,” you whisper.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he promises, offering his hand. “Let’s go.”

You allow Tim to lead you out of the restaurant. Once outside, your chest grows heavy as an uncomfortable pressure builds behind your eyes.

“Tim, I can’t breathe,” you tell him, gripping his hand as you panic.

He turns toward you, releases your hand, and holds your eye contact. “Listen, hey, eyes on me.” When your eyes meet his, he lifts your hand to his chest and presses your palm over his heart. “Breathe with me. In… and out. Good, again. In… out through your mouth. I have no idea what you are feeling right now, but I need you to trust me. I called it in, and I’m going to the station now. We’re going to get Mia back.”

You nod quickly, keeping your hand against Tim’s steady heart as he speaks. “What am I supposed to do?” you whisper.

“Stay strong for Mia. Can you think of anyone who would do this?”

“No. I don’t… no.”

“Okay, well I know people who can find that out. Do you want to go home or come with me to the station?”

You grip Tim’s shirt as you plead, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Tim pulls you against him and promises, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to bring Mia home.”

“Tim, what do you know about the father?” Angela asks. Tim doesn’t acknowledge her, staring out into the bullpen at you, where Luna Grey is consoling you. “Tim?”

“Hmm?” he hums without turning.

“Mia’s dad,” Angela says. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He hasn’t been in the picture, ever.”

“She hasn’t told you anything?” Nyla inquires. “No name, no complaints, just that he’s gone?”

“It’s not something I’m overly interested in, Harper.”

“You stand from your seat and rush toward Tim. He extends his arms toward you, but you press your ringing phone into his hand.

“He’s calling again,” he tells Angela.

“Answer it,” she tells you. “We’ll try to trace it.”

“Hello?” you greet.

“I’m not seeing any money,” the voice chides.

You hear Mia crying in the background and bite your lip harshly. “Where is my daughter?” you ask.

“She’s fine. Won’t stop crying, but she needs you to get me my money, understand?”

Angela shakes her head and moves her finger in a circle so you’ll keep talking.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” you explain. “Why me?”

“Because he stole it.”

You glance at Tim as you ask, “He who?”

“Mia’s father! I lost half a million because of him. I knocked a hundred grand off but if I don’t see my investment returned, I’ll make a new one.”

“I can’t get that kind of money,” you say through your teeth. “What else can I do?”

“Find a way. You have twenty hours, so find it quickly.”

The line clicks before you drop your hand away from your face. A tear tracks over your cheek, and you don’t do anything to stop it.

“No location on the trace, but I have the internet number’s information,” Angela explains. “Tech might be able to do something with it.”

“Excuse me,” you mumble.

Tim watches you walk into the restroom. He rubs his hand across his face before Lucy pushes him toward you.

“Go,” Angela encourages him. “We’ll find Mia’s dad and go from there. She needs you, Timothy.”

Tim knocks on the bathroom door as he opens it. He says your name as he steps in, but he’s only met with muted crying and sniffles.

“I can’t do this,” you whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, stopping outside your stall. “I can’t take it away, but I’ll do everything I can to get her back.”

“It was… I know it sounds bad, but I don’t know anything. He was working with someone or something, and they lost the money, and then- then he lost everything else. I don’t even know what the money was for or where he went after the fallout. He may not have realized that what they were doing was wrong.”

“It’s not your job to know all of this,” Tim reminds you. “He did something wrong, and he lost the best people I’ve ever met.”

You sniff before you begin crying again, and Tim nudges the door open. He pulls you from your slouched position against the partial wall and into his arms. Running his hand over your hair, Tim grounds you and reminds you that you’re not alone, you’re cared about and loved.

“Wait,” you say against his chest. “Did he say half a million?”

“Yeah, but he dropped it to 400.”

“I remember hearing something about the biggest ‘donor’ and they called him… it was something about a shark, like great white or… maybe it was hammerhead?”

“Mako?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“He's wanted for dozens of crimes. I need to go tell Angela, but…” Tim hesitates and pulls you into a tight hug.

You carry the duffel bag filled with seized money in both hands as you approach the darkened warehouse at the Port of Los Angeles. Tim, Angela, Nyla, Nolan, and Lucy are somewhere behind you, and a Metro team is waiting for their command. After you knock four times, the door slides open, and a man dressed in black steps out.

“Where’s Mia?” you ask.

“She’s close, ready to go with you,” he answers cryptically.

“Stall him,” Angela says in your earpiece. “We’ll find her.”

“Can you- can you tell me what he did?” you ask the man.

“You really don’t know, do you? You have no idea about how many people he robbed, how many lives he destroyed.”

“No, I don’t. All I know is that he left me and my daughter, and now you’re trying to ruin our lives.”

“Fool me once.”

“But I didn’t. I had nothing to do with losing your money.”

The man barks a laugh and tries to snatch the duffel bag from you, but you step back quickly.

“Not until I know my daughter is okay,” you snap.

“She’s waiting in a Corolla on the other side of the building, ready for you to drive her home,” he says. “Money, now.”

“I’ve got Mia,” Tim says in your ear. “Metro, move in.”

You sigh in relief just before a swarm of armed officers surround you and your daughter’s abductor. They pull him away from you just as Tim rounds the corner, your daughter safe in his arms.

“Mia!” you call, running toward them.

You crash into them, wrapping one arm around Mia and the other around Tim’s waist. Mia wraps her arm around your neck and shifts her weight toward you as Tim holds you close. She rambles against you until you wipe the tears from her face.

“Are you okay, baby?” you ask.

She nods, then reaches toward Tim. He takes her hand, and Mia lowers her head to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Tim, standing against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies. “You too, Mia, and I meant what I said.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, and he whispers, “I promised a trip to the toy store and her favorite diner for milkshakes.”

Mia nods against you as you ask, “Am I invited?”

“What do you think, Mia?” Tim asks. “Can Mom come?”

“Yeah,” she answers against you. “Love you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell her.

She mumbles something, then says, “Love you, Daddy.”

You look at Tim and smile as you raise your hand to his cheek. He looks like he might cry, but he has a much better story about how Mia made him cry today.

With You, Even When I'm Not

Requested Here by the amazing @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.

Warnings: angst, car accident, torture (injuries to r), based on 2x11 but this isn't a rewrite (for once lol), crying, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

A/N: I didn't include a scene with Tim threatening someone like he does in 2x11 and I kinda regret it because it was hot, but I also really like how this turned out...

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

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead.”

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Less than eight hours ago, you sat beside Tim in roll call. You force yourself to remember that rather than consider what Ferguson plans to do to you.

- 8 Hours Ago - 

Your day starts like any other: you wake up, get ready, go to the station, and take your seat beside Tim for roll call. The sun is bright, the sky clear, and Los Angeles is event-free for once. So, it has the makings for a good day.

“What is up with you?” Tim asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” you counter.

“You’re all smiley and happy. Someone puked in my shop yesterday and you’re acting like this is the best job in the world.”

“It is!” You chuckle at his look before explaining, “It’s going to be a good day. Just let me enjoy this one for every hundred bad ones I’ve dealt with.”

“Sure.”

Wade enters, and you give him your full attention, though you never forget about Tim. He’s a constant in your life, and you wish you could have him by your side every moment, not just during roll call.

“Nolan, Harper is back so you can return to your TO,” Wade says.

“That’s why you’re so happy,” Tim muses. “You got rid of Nolan.”

You shake your head and smile before you stand. You’re patrolling in one of the nicest Los Angeles neighborhoods today, so you probably won’t see or hear Tim much today.

“Have a good one,” you tell him.

“Be careful,” he replies.

You exit the room, and Tim watches you go. Lucy walks to his side and stops, aware of what he’s looking at and longing for.

“Let’s go, boot, don’t just stand there,” Tim demands.

“Bradford,” Wade calls. “A word? Chen can stay.”

Tim nods and follows Lucy to the front of the room.

“Ferguson was released on parole this morning,” Wade says. “Sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know.”

“He had fifteen years left; how did this happen?” Tim asks.

“Who’s Ferguson?” Lucy inquires.

“Someone I arrested,” Tim answers. “He threatened to kill me when he got out.”

“Oh. Uh, should we-“

“That is up to Officer Bradford,” Wade interjects. “If you want to sit today out, I’ll understand.”

“No. I’m not letting him ruin my life, too. We can handle Ferguson if he’s stupid enough to show his face.”

“The parole board seems convinced he’s reformed, but we both know he’s a good liar and a better manipulator. Keep your eyes open, Tim, and don’t hesitate to call in anything you think is a threat.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s go, boot.”

Tim leads Lucy to the shop, and he's quieter than usual. Lucy hasn’t been a cop as long as him, but she knows what it’s like to have a criminal blame you for the consequences of their actions. She won’t push Tim, not about this, but she has questions about everything she heard.

“Pull up Roscoe Ferguson,” Tim says as he turns onto the road. “Get familiar with his face. If you see him, I want you to know it’s him.”

“You really think he’ll do something?” Lucy asks as she turns the dashboard computer toward her.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-9, are there any alerts in my area?” you ask into the radio.

“Negative, 7-Adam-9.”

You nod to yourself and place the radio back in the console. The morning has been quiet and slow. You know you shouldn’t complain; a sunny drive in the hills is rarely a bad thing, but you’re a cop, and you’re getting bored.

“7-Adam-9, switch to channel 4 for Sergeant Grey,” dispatch instructs.

You turn the channel dial and let Wade know you’re there. He doesn’t answer, and you slow at a stop sign as you bounce the radio against your thigh.

“You’re in the hills, right?” Wade asks suddenly.

He doesn't use your name or call number, only asks a rushed question. It concerns you, but you remain professional.

“Yes, sir,” you answer. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No, stay up there. Just wanted to double-check.”

“What’s going on?”

Wade goes silent again, and you repeat the question.

“Nothing, I hope. Just trying to keep everyone connected to Bradford out of the heart of LA today.”

“Why?”

“Ferguson was released.”

“He has 15 years left on his sentence!” you exclaim into your empty car.

“I know. I’m trying to get everything figured out and petition for it to be reversed, but for now, just keep working.”

“Yes, sir.”

You turn the channel back and set the radio down. Roscoe Ferguson hates Tim and would do anything to get to him. Tim knows you're here for him, so you focus on your assignment. The Hollywood hills are quiet this morning, but you know better than to let your guard down.

As you turn onto Tahoe Drive, you notice a black truck in your rearview. He gets close to the tail of your shop but slows suddenly and turns onto Tahoe Place. You roll your eyes; the people who live in the Hills drive like they own the hills. They probably do, but it doesn’t excuse unsafe vehicle operation.

You round the bend where Tahoe Drive turns into Lake Hollywood Drive, and the Hollywood Reservoir comes into view. When you glance up, you see the black truck speeding toward you again. You hit the lights and leave them on for a few seconds as a warning, but the driver doesn’t slow. If they pass you, you’ll stop them and issue a ticket, you decide.

There’s a point on Lake Hollywood Drive where there’s less than 200 feet of terrain between the road and the reservoir. It’s covered in sparse foliage, but it would be easy enough to get to the water or hide in the trees. You realize too late that the truck isn’t slowing down or moving to pass you as you near that point. It rams into you from behind, and you lurch forward before the seatbelt catches and snatches you backward. Steering is pointless as the shop slides into a small patch of dirt. The truck is still driving, pushing your car forward. The driver stops just before you collide with a tree, and you reach for the radio.

It's fallen from the console, and the seatbelt holds you uncomfortably tight to your seat. As you wrestle to free yourself and get the radio, you don’t see the man exit the truck or approach your window. He hits it with an illegal tool used for breaking into cars, and you turn your face away as glass showers over you.

“Hi,” he greets. “7-Adam-9, right?”

“And you’re Roscoe Ferguson,” you answer.

“Bradford, get back to the station,” Wade radios, “Now.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he makes a U-turn.

“Ferguson stole a truck. We don’t know where he went after or what he’s planning to do.”

“We should find him,” Lucy says.

“And don’t say you should go look for him,” Wade adds. “You’re too close to this.”

“He’s not going to kill me, Grey,” Tim argues. “Let me help. I caught him once; I can do it again.”

“Get back to the station. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs as he continues driving toward the station. The last time he worried about Roscoe Ferguson, you were sitting beside him. Though you’ll never take the credit, Tim thinks you’re the main reason he finally got Ferguson in cuffs. 

“What now?” Lucy asks.

“We find a way to help find Ferguson,” Tim replies.

“Get out,” Ferguson demands. 

He pushes the gun closer to your face, and you raise your hands slowly. Your left shoulder aches from the impact of the seatbelt, and as you reach through the broken window to open your door, you feel the tiny scratches littering your face and neck sting. Ferguson pulls you away from the shop and pushes you toward the reservoir.

“What’s your plan here, Roscoe?” you ask.

He taps the gun against your back to make you keep walking. With your back to him, you slide your hand into your pocket and remove the laminated piece of paper you keep in it. It falls to the ground, and you hope it’s enough to help Tim find you and Roscoe. 

“Kill me to get to Tim? Hurt him without touching him because you know he won’t let you get the chance?”

“Shut up!” Ferguson yells. “Walk!”

Taunting him may not be your brightest decision, but making him mad will make him careless. When you reach the water, he grabs your belt and pulls you backward. Your breath rushes out as your back hits the ground, but you smile through the pain.

“You will never beat him,” you say.

“Tim Bradford took everything from me. Let’s see how he likes the feeling,” Ferguson responds.

He raises the gun to your face and pushes the barrel against your forehead. You keep your eyes on him, unwilling to flinch in the face of death. He changes his mind, however, and brings the butt of the handle down against your temple instead, and everything goes dark as the water blows in the wind.

Tim and Lucy have been relegated to desk duty. With Ferguson on the run and numerous threats against Tim’s life, Wade decided it would be best for him to stay here. Wade watches them from his office and shakes his head when Lucy begins twirling her handcuffs around her finger. His phone rings and Wade steps away from the glass door to answer it.

“Sergeant Grey,” he answers.

He listens silently before lowering the receiver and stepping out into the station. Tim looks up, and his expression drops immediately.

“What happened?” Tim asks as he stands.

“They found the stolen truck. It was involved in an accident near the reservoir. He, uh… Ferguson ran a cop off the road, and they’re both missing.”

“Who?” Tim asks, urgency and panic lacing the syllable.

Before Wade can answer, dispatch reads your badge number in a missing officer alert, and Tim’s blood runs cold. He freezes, staring at Wade as he realizes what has happened and that it’s his fault. Tim never anticipated Ferguson going for the people Tim cares about – loves – and he should have.

“Let me go out there,” Tim demands lowly. “I can find her.”

“I shouldn’t,” Wade answers. He looks to Lucy and adds, “But I will. Don’t try to do this alone, Bradford. Take help where you can get it.”

“I don’t want the credit; I want her back,” Tim snaps.

“Then get to the reservoir and do what you do best, Tim.”

Lucy nods at Wade, an unspoken promise that she’ll do her best to help him and keep him from spiraling. They both know that it’s easier said than done.

“Tim,” you call out when you wake.

“Nope, just me,” Ferguson says.

He’s sitting across from you as he carves a piece of wood into a chipmunk. Your arms are tied tightly behind you, and one of your ankles is secured to a metal pole with your handcuffs. Whatever he’s planning to do to you will hurt you, but it will hurt Tim much worse.

“I hope you’re asking for a lot of ransom,” you mumble.

“You and I both know this isn’t about money. It’s about that little partner of yours and what he did to me.”

“Making you pay for your crimes? Yeah, he’s a terrible person.”

Ferguson moves forward quickly. The half-finished wood carving falls to the floor as he presses the knife under your jaw.

“These whittling knives are small, but I can cut an artery before you can call out to him again,” he threatens.

You swallow, causing the knife to bob in his hand. He presses harder and turns to the left before standing. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and you wonder what he plans to do to you before he kills you. If you didn’t have so much faith in Tim, you’d be tempted to anger Ferguson and trick him into killing you early. It’s a terrible thing to think, but at the end of the day, you’re a cop, and you know when your chances aren’t good enough. Right now, they are.

“When he gets here, he will put a bullet in you this time,” you tell Ferguson.

“You stopped him last time,” he answers.

He’s planning to use you as a human shield; let Tim be the one to finish you off in the darkness. Perhaps that’s why you’re underground. The only light you see is from a small lamp; when it goes off, you will be plunged into complete darkness.

“Stop talking,” Ferguson demands as he retrieves his chipmunk. “We don’t have much air in here.”

You try not to let your shock show, but as you look around and fail to see a single air vent, you worry that Tim won’t make it in time. Forcing yourself to take a steady breath, you close your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Ferguson chides. “No napping. We have to stay awake for the pre-game, and the final score.”

He tips your head back, and your eyes open instinctually. When he sees that, he tightens his grip on your jaw and circles you. Looking at him upside-down, you tug against your restraints. He raises a foot and places it on your bound hands before stepping down hard and fast. Your shoulders pull backward at a painful angle with no room that makes you yell in pain. Ferguson’s laugh drowns out your scream, and he keeps his hand on your jaw as he lays a rope over the back of your neck to hang over your shoulders.

“He’s going to kill you,” you say between pants when Ferguson releases your face.

He hinges at his hip, invading your personal space as he smiles and says, “You too.”

“Bradford, there’s blood,” an officer alerts.

Tim steps to your open shop door and sees a few small, oblong blood drops on your seat. Based on the shape, you were in motion when they fell, and it wasn’t enough blood to kill you.

“Probably from the glass,” he decides. “Let’s move toward the reservoir. We can’t tell footprints apart but watch where you’re stepping!”

“Tim!” Lucy yells from just past the tree line.

He jogs to her side and looks down. She found a small, laminated piece of paper, and Tim recognizes it immediately. Your self-proclaimed “perfect fortune” from one of your first dinners together as P2s rather than rookies. He picks it up and looks toward the water. He’s looking in the right place, you made sure to tell him that, but he feels like he’s missing something else.

“Please,” you whimper, even though you know he can’t hear you.

“How many more times do I have to tell you?” Ferguson asks. “He’s not here.”

The only thing on your mind is Tim because if you stop thinking about him you’ll only know the unbearable pain and the man inflicting it. Ferguson places his foot between your legs, pushing against the chair slowly. It tips back, and you close your eyes and imagine Tim catching you. It doesn’t stop the initial pain of your leg being held in one place by the handcuffs as the rest of your body moves back or the scream you release as you hit the floor, but it does give you a reason to keep fighting. Ferguson pulls you up nearly as fast as he tipped you over, and the rope digs in against the side of your neck.

“This is the best workout I’ve ever had,” he says.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and you notice how hot and thick the air seems. Ferguson admitted that the air supply was limited, so if you start wasting it, maybe he will leave.

“If you call him…” you begin slowly. “Let me hear Tim Bradford’s voice one more time, and I will lure him here for you.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Ferguson asks.

You nod and immediately regret it when he pulls the rope and forces your head down toward your chest.

“I’m not letting you take control. This is my plan, and it ends beautifully.”

“I can’t do this!” Tim yells.

He runs his hands over the back of his head and down his face as he squats by the reservoir. There are no other hints about where Ferguson took you, nothing to guide Tim toward saving you, only dirt and broken promises. He told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you; Tim whispered the promise in the dead of night when you were asleep during an overnight patrol, yet he’s holding himself to keeping it like it will kill him if he doesn’t. Because it will.

“Tim don’t give up yet,” Lucy encourages. She lowers beside him and lays a hand on his back. “We can do this, but we have to work together. The paper means something right? Could it be more than an indication she was here?”

Tim wipes under his eye, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks. He stops them quickly, but she pats his back to remind him he’s not fighting alone. You’re fighting, too, and Tim needs to remember that.

“Lucy, I lo-“ Tim stops suddenly, though Lucy is confident she knows where he was going. “I know what it means.”

He stands quickly, and Lucy follows him to the place where they found the fortune. The little strip of paper from a fortune cookie has been in your pocket since you read it, but not only for the encouraging message on the front.

“34831,” Tim says.

“Your badge number?” Lucy asks, tilting her head to the side. “What about it?”

“It was on the back of my fortune that night. Hers, though, didn’t have a number. So, we wrote one on it.”

“What’s the number?”

“2 25 12 9. I didn’t think she’d know what it meant.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s an alphabet cypher, but backward.”

“B, Y, L, I,” Tim rattles off. “If she had this, she may have left more clues at those points: 2, 25, 12, and 9.”

“This would have been about 2,” Lucy says, gesturing to the ground. “That’s what, 2 meters from the car?”

Tim furrows his brows at Lucy’s use of meters but nods anyway.

“We can’t walk 25 meters forward, we’d be in the water,” Lucy points out.

“Then we need to spread out in every direction we can go 25 meters… Unless I’m wrong.”

“Don’t question it.”

“No, she would’ve fought. He wouldn’t have been able to make her go anywhere if she wasn’t willing to. We should assume that she couldn’t leave a trail after this point.”

“Then we’re back where we started?”

“Exactly.”

“Tim, what does that even mean?”

“She’s still here. They both are.”

Tim turns and yells for someone to get satellite imaging of the area and the camera footage from your car. Your body cam and police uniform shirt were discarded by the water but the cameras could tell them what happened before and during the initial attack.

“We’ll find her, Tim,” Lucy promises again.

“Thank you,” Tim whispers.

Running footsteps echo over the top of the tin deathtrap you’re in. Someone yells, and Ferguson ducks his head as he moves out of your sight.

“Tim!” you yell.

Your voice cracks, and as you prepare to yell again, Ferguson pulls the rope around your neck. It digs into your skin and compresses your windpipe. Tears begin leaking from your eyes, and after the day you’ve had, you don’t care to stop them.

“Tim, please,” you whisper.

“Welcome to the final round,” Ferguson says into your ear. 

He loosens the rope and pushes your chair forward. His foot pulls down against your hands again, pulling your shoulder muscles cruelly as they stretch to accommodate the impossible movement. You scream in agony as Ferguson pushes you past the point he stopped at previously.

“Did you stop to ask yourself what he’s thinking? Wouldn’t he have found you sooner if he cared? I’ve been out long enough that he knew, yet he let you out by yourself,” Ferguson taunts.

“You won’t win,” you say between ragged breaths.

Ferguson pulls your head to the side to hold the whittling knife against your windpipe, and the cut he made earlier pulls open. Your white shirt is stained with blood and tears, and even as your blinks slow and breathing begins to feel impossible, you trust Tim.

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead,” Ferguson says.

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Throwing your head backward, you ignore the sting of his knife sliding across the tender skin of your neck. Your skull hits Ferguson’s nose, and he staggers backward with a hand holding his face. Suddenly, you can’t pull a full breath into your lungs. Time has run out, and Tim isn’t here yet. You hold your breath as Ferguson stumbles behind you. He drops, and you see his hand and face are covered in blood. His chest rises and falls slowly, but you’re safe until the rest of the oxygen is used up.

“Tim,” you whisper toward the metal sheet above you.

“Wait!” Lucy calls. “The ground is hollow here.”

Tim returns to Lucy’s side and hears his footsteps echo. It sounds like there’s a metal sheeting under the dirt beneath his boots. He raises a hand to call a few officers over before someone screams. It’s muffled by the metal and earth, but it’s a clear sign of pain. Better than that, it means someone is still alive.

“Find a way in,” Tim demands quietly.

As he searches the area around the hollow spot, he wishes to hear your voice again. Not another scream, but an acknowledgement that you survived whatever caused you such agony.

"Bradford!” Janssen calls.

He waves Tim over and points to a small opening. Together, they lift the heavy steel cover away from the round hole. Another barrier of cloth and metal sheets blocks the entrance, and as Tim digs through, he wonders how much air is getting through, if any. The moment he can see inside the fortified bunker, he pulls his weapon and drops silently into the metal housing.

What was likely meant to be a storm shelter has been converted into a survivalist’s nightmare. A small corridor leads to a wider opening, and a dim light is the only sign that anyone is inside. Tim raises his guns and stays ready to shoot as he nears the opening.

“Tim,” you whisper.

Tim hears your voice and doesn’t hesitate to step into the open room and swing his gun as he clears the small, square area. Ferguson lies unconscious in the corner, and Tim can only see your back, the restraints keeping you in place, and the rope loosely wrapped around your neck and shoulders.

Your shoulders shake as you exhale slowly. When you notice that you can breathe again, you take a deep breath before letting your head fall forward.

“Tim,” you repeat, trying not to think of anything else.

Tim says your name as he holsters his gun. You sit up straight and try to turn your head to the side but are stopped by the pull of the rope and the pain in your shoulders. You hiss in pain before returning to your previous position.

“You can’t trick me, Roscoe,” you mumble.

Tim steps toward Ferguson and handcuffs him. He repeats your name as he moves into your line of sight. His hands are raised to his shoulders, though his expression is pure concern. When he sees the blood, sweat, and dirt covering you and your clothes, he has to fight not to rush to your side.

“Tim,” you say again. Your voice is louder than before but still has an untrusting quality. “Tim.”

When you start crying and lean toward Tim, he kneels before you. He reaches down carefully to use his key and remove the handcuff from your ankle. Your head rests on his shoulder as he moves, and when he sees the damage done to your ankle, the swelling, deep bruising, and handcuff-induced gash, he looks back at Ferguson.

Tim sits up slowly and raises a hand toward your face. He pushes your hair back softly and waits until your eyes meet to speak.

“I need to go get backup,” he says.

“No, no! Please don’t leave me, Tim,” you plead through your slowing tears.

You lean forward and wince when your shoulder meets its new range of motion.

“I need to get Ferguson out of here,” Tim explains. “There’s a lot of people above us waiting for me to signal.”

“Tim, please.”

“Can I yell?”

You swallow as Tim moves closer to you. He stops an inch away from you, with your knees almost touching his ribs.

“I’m not going to yell unless you say I can,” he adds.

Tim waits for your nod, then leans away from you slightly to yell for Janssen and Lucy to come in.

“Help me,” you whisper when Tim’s eyes return to you.

He sits back on his heels as he unloops the rope from around you. It’s heavy, and he sees your shoulders drop once it’s away from you. They drop unevenly, though, and he knows you need more help than he can give you.

“I’m staying with you,” Tim promises, “but I have to untie your hands.”

You shake your head quickly, and Tim moves his hands to the sides of your thighs as he agrees not to leave. He asks Lucy to free your hands and keeps his hands on you as Lucy cuts the restraints.

“Thank you,” you say.

Tim doesn’t answer before you pull your arms forward. With them free, you don’t hesitate to raise them and wrap them around his shoulders. It hurts, and you sob as you fall forward and cling to Tim. He welcomes your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, but he doesn’t touch you, too mindful of how injured you are and where those unseen injuries are.

“I knew you’d come,” you say through your tears.

Tim looks over your shoulder as Janssen and a few other officers carry Ferguson to the opening. He should call an EMT to meet you here, but he can’t let you go yet. His grip tightens around your waist without thinking. When your only reaction is relaxing against him, Tim holds you as tightly as he needs to. Your tears are drying, and you turn your face toward Tim’s neck to speak.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave more clues,” you begin. “But I knew you didn’t need them.”

“The paper was smart,” Tim replies. “And I will always find you.”

“He wanted to lure you down here and trick you into killing me. Every time I called out for you he reminded me that we would both die.”

Tim exhales deeply, unsure how to tell you he knows you and he’d never make that mistake. He sits back, twisting you so that he’s holding you against his chest rather than letting you support your own weight.

“It hurts,” you say softly.

“Can you get out of here? Go up the ladder?” he asks.

“There’s a ladder?”

Tim’s brows furrow at your question. How did Ferguson get you down here if you weren’t conscious when you came in? He shakes his head; the detectives (and Tim) will look into the details of your abduction later. For now, your safety is the priority.

“Can you climb out?” Tim asks.

“Not without help,” you answer. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Tim looks at your ankle again, and his eyes catch on the fresh blood pooling against your collarbone. He leans closer to you to find the source. When he sees the cut across the front of your neck, he knows you need help sooner rather than later.

“Hold on,” he instructs you.

“I- I can’t move my shoulder.”

Tim lays you against the metal floor and looks at your left shoulder. It’s out of its socket, but Tim can’t risk pushing it back in without knowing if your muscles or ligaments are still intact.

“Please just get me out of here.”

Tim nods and turns around so your hips are beside his shoulders. He leans down and pulls your legs over his shoulder rather than your arms. With one hand pressing your shoulder to your side, Tim stands and pulls you up in a modified fireman’s carry. You stifle the yell that tries to escape, and Tim’s heart breaks when he hears it. He spent so much time fighting, desperate to find you, that he didn’t consider how different things would be when he did.

With the help of Janssen, Nolan, and Lucy, Tim gets you back above ground. He collapses to the ground but makes sure you’re set down with care. You reach out for him immediately, and Tim pulls your chest to his again. The paramedics are close, but until they arrive, Tim will hold you like he never has.

“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispers.

“You found me,” you reply. “You found me.”

Your right hand squeezes Tim’s shirt in your hand as you hold onto him. You didn’t doubt him for a second. Being in his arms gives you the safety and comfort you need to fall apart because you know he’ll hold you together.

“I know what it means,” you say. “Or I think I do. B-Y-L-I; it’s backwards, right?”

Tim nods against you, and you smile through your tears. The paramedics arrive, and you’re carefully removed from Tim’s grasp, though his hand stays in yours. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to let go, but Tim has already made a new promise, and he won’t leave your side until he’s forced to.

“Where’s Kojo?” you ask as Tim leads you into his house.

“He’s staying with Lucy tonight. He gets excited when he sees you and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Tim answers.

He guides you to the couch and sits beside you after placing your things in his guest bedroom. Tim refused to let you return to your apartment alone after being discharged from the hospital, and you didn’t need much convincing to stay with him while you heal.

You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder, careful not to jostle your shoulder in its sling. He moves his arm to welcome you closer and tilts his head to rest beside yours.

“It’s I love you backward, right?”

Tim looks down at your hand, surprised to see your fortune in it. He takes it from you and flips it to see his handwriting. He nods and sits up straight. When you turn toward Tim, he wipes under your eyes as if he can still see the tears you cried when he saved you. Your skin is littered with scars and reminders of what Ferguson did to you, but Tim still seems to only see you underneath all of it.

“It’s I love you, Bradford,” he answers. “Whether you wanted that to mean ‘from Bradford’ or something else.”

“I begged for you to save me while I was down there with him.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize. I just- I need you to know I trust you that much because I know you love me. I’ve known for a long time. But I also knew that even if you didn’t find me in time, I would die loving you. And life was worth living because you were in it.”

Tim’s hands rise out of his lap before freezing. He looks down at your neck and back to your eyes before smiling. His eyes look misty, but you know yours are, too, so you decide not to tease him about it this one time.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands to kiss you,” he mumbles.

You hold his shoulder as you lean in and kiss him. His hands raise to your waist without thought, and other than the soreness of using your obliques to search for Tim while tied in place, it’s a painless touch. Tim moves slowly and intentionally as he kisses you, reminding you of everything he said and did, even what you weren’t present for.

“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you say against his lips.

“I love you. I will always love you, and I will never lose you again.”

Tim slides the fortune into your pocket as he kisses you again, and every pain and fear you faced disappears because you know Tim will always find you and make you whole.

Being Replaced

The Bradfords Series Masterlist (5/?)

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

Summary: During your yearly physical, your doctor brings up a surprising series of questions. You take several tests, and as you continue policing, you forget to tell Tim about what you're waiting to find out. When Lucy overhears your conversation, she wants to know everything.

Warnings: discussions of pregnancy/menstrual cycles + symptoms, fluff, brief angst, banter, protective!Tim

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

Tim sighs when Lucy slows on their way to the shop.

“What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Mom,” she answers. “Where is she? I didn’t see her during roll call.”

“She’ll be here later. Let’s go, boot.”

“Why isn’t she here now?”

“Why are you still asking questions instead of getting in the shop?” Tim counters, his patience wearing thin. “Now, Chen.”

Lucy looks around once more, then leads Tim to the garage. As she sits in the passenger seat, she considers texting you. She notices Tim’s relaxed grip on the steering wheel and decides that you must be okay. If there was something wrong, Tim would show it even if he denied it. When you get to work later today, Lucy will ask you herself.

“The guy that robbed my apartment is going to trial this week,” Lucy says. “Prosecutor said he has over a dozen people testifying.”

Tim shakes his head slightly and raises his fingers from the steering wheel. “Why do I need to know that?”

“It’s called sharing. When two people care about each other-“

“Stop.”

“But, I-“

“Stop.”

Tim looks at Lucy as dispatch alerts them of a nearby call, and she changes the subject to focus on the matter at hand.

While Tim and Lucy deescalate a fight at a high-end cookware store and take details from the employees about the preceding robbery, you flip through a magazine. Stopping at a page with a ‘Couple Compatibility Test,’ you roll your eyes. The magazines in the waiting room are well over a decade old, yet you read the first question and smile. You and Tim would undoubtedly fail one of these tests, but you’ve already proved to be great together. A few pages later, someone calls your name, and you abandon the magazine to follow a nurse’s assistant into the heart of the doctor’s office.

You get weighed, your height is checked, and then you sit patiently as your temperature, pulse, oxygen levels, and blood pressure are measured. After thanking the assistant, you sit alone on the examination table to wait for the doctor. Nothing is wrong; you’re just here for a yearly check-up and physical, yet you’re hit suddenly by a feeling that something unexpected is coming.

“Whoa, this is nice!” Lucy exclaims as she runs her fingers over the lid of a Dutch oven.

“It’s one of our best sellers,” an employee interjects. “Luckily this stuff is heavy so the thief couldn’t have gotten away with much.”

Tim ignores their conversation to look around the store. By the seasonal sale display at the front, he looks out the window and sighs. “They could if they had a vehicle parked outside.”

“What?” Lucy asks, moving toward Tim. “How did they do that without opening the door more than once? This is a state-of-the-art security system.”

“Is that what they said?” he asks quietly. “The sensor on this door can be tricked with a magnet. That’s why the alarm wasn’t responded to, I’d guess. Short enough disruption that the dispatchers figured it was a false alarm.”

“Officers?” the second (and more helpful) employee calls. “I have a list of the missing items.”

Tim takes the printed sheet of paper and reads the first few items before looking to the bottom. “15 items worth $4,000. Is that before tax?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that important?” Lucy asks.

“Only if they try to resell it.” He turns to the employees to explain that several detectives are on their way and will have many of the same questions and need the same list.

“Call if you need anything else,” Lucy urges them, leaving her card on the counter.

Tim stops outside the door and looks at the tire marks on the concrete. He straightens and follows them until they lighten and disappear around a corner.

“The merchandise was transferred somewhere near here, or to a larger vehicle. Whatever cart they had all that stuff in to begin with was weighed down,” Tim tells Lucy. “Let the detectives know.”

“Overall, you’re very healthy,” your doctor says after her exam. “There are a few questions I’d like to ask. Have you noticed any swelling or bloating in your abdomen?”

“A bit,” you admit.

“Missing or late periods?”

“I’m about a week and a half late. It’s happened before, my gyno said it was nothing to worry about.”

“Okay. And, last one, have you experienced any nausea or vomiting? Especially any occurring around the same time as the swelling?”

“There have been a few mornings I’ve been really nauseous, but I haven’t actually gotten sick.”

She nods as she jots a few notes on her tablet. After a moment, she asks, “Are you going to work today?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m supposed to be there in about twenty minutes actually.”

Setting the tablet aside, she leans forward and rests her elbows on her legs. “I want to run a pregnancy test. I’m not thoroughly convinced you are or even could be pregnant, but I’m also not willing to say you’re completely in line with last year’s physical based on some of those symptoms. Unfortunately, we can’t get it all done before you need to leave.”

“I…” You trail off, trying to process what she’s telling you. You don’t feel pregnant, but now that you think about the swelling, the nausea, and the other changes you’ve experienced, you don’t know what to think. “Could I call later to get the results?”

“That is an excellent idea.” She calls a nurse into the room and instructs her to prepare a pregnancy test. “I’m going to give you my cell number,” she tells you. “Whenever you have time, whether it’s today, tonight, or tomorrow, give me a call and I’ll go over the results with you. When’s the last time you ate or drank?”

“About eight hours ago because my shifts were oddly spaced this week,” you remember.

“In that case, I’d like to run a blood test to check your hormone levels as well. We’ll get you out of here in less than ten minutes. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“No. Thank you,” you reply.

In the empty room, you stare at the wall and try to think but don’t come up with anything before the nurse returns to give you directions.

“What’s up with your boot?” Angela asks, sitting across from Tim at their favorite food truck. Tim mumbles an answer, to which she raises her brows.

“She misses my wife,” Tim says. “Has been asking about her all day.”

“Where is she?” Angela inquires.

Tim groans, but he’s saved by Lucy yelling your name. Tim looks up, but you’re locked in conversation with Bishop. She lays her hand on your upper arm, and after a moment, you smile and nod. She walks past you and toward her shop as you move farther into the circle of food trucks.

“Hello,” you greet as you approach your fellow officers. “Nolan, you’re with me for the rest of shift.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

“I think you and Bishop planned this,” Angela muses.

“We absolutely did,” you answer with a smile. “Her appointment got changed last week.”

“Appointment for what?” Lucy asks.

“Yearly physical. We got them on the same day in year one, so we tend to go around the same time every year.”

“Oh, that’s where you’ve been. Dad wouldn’t tell me.”

“Dad?” Angela repeats with a brow raised.

“It’s because they argue like parents,” Jackson explains. Tim turns to glare at him, so Jackson raises his hands and defends, “We all know it; don’t shoot the messenger.”

“You let your boot call you Dad, Timothy?”

Tim turns his glare to you, but his brows drop momentarily. He can read you well – too well. You send him a small smile to communicate that you’re okay. Tim is your husband and is possibly going to become a father soon, so you need to tell him. But something makes you pause.

“She’s persistent,” you answer for Tim. “And he cares.”

“He loves me,” Lucy agrees.

Tim pulls his eyes from you but can’t berate Lucy before a speeding car drives by with several people screaming in the trunk. Everyone at the table jumps up and runs to their respective shop. You completely forget that you may be carrying precious cargo.

“Where’s Officer Bradford?” Tim asks Nolan as he and Lucy enter the station.

Nolan points to a nearby hallway, and Lucy begins talking to him about the car chase. Tim follows Nolan’s direction to find you. He slows when he hears your voice, then stops.

“Hi,” you greet before saying your name and providing your phone number. “Sorry for calling late, but I had some time and wanted to ask about the results of the pregnancy and blood tests. If you can give me a call back when you have some time, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

You turn, then freeze at the sight of a wide-eyed Tim Bradford. Your mouth opens, but words fail you.

“I should have told you,” you begin.

“You’re pregnant?” he exclaims, finally moving closer to you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t- but you could be?”

“Well, I didn’t think so, but then the doctor started asking all of these questions and I answered them and apparently that made her think I could be. Honestly, Tim, if I thought I was, you would’ve been the first person I talked to, you know that.”

“Why’d you get a blood test?” he asks.

“Hormone levels.”

Tim nods, then takes your hand. “Do you want to be pregnant?”

“I want to have kids with you, someday, but… Don’t you think I would have felt something? If I’m pregnant and had no idea, what kind of mother would I be?”

Tim presses his lips together, then says, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

His lips quirk up at the corners, and you laugh. Falling forward against his chest, you complain, “And you’re the expert on human reproduction.”

“I’m getting pretty good at understanding you, I think.”

“Bradford!” Wade calls. He sees your hand slide off of Tim’s waist, and though he can’t see you, adds, “And Bradford, Metro got ambushed looking for your thief from this morning. We need you in the bullpen. Now.”

“You can sit this one out,” Tim says softly.

You shake your head and say, “I’m not leaving. We- when we find out, we’ll go from there.”

Tim hesitates, then nods and follows you to the bullpen.

Tim hovers. Since you started dating, you have known that he’s protective, caring, and doting when no one is looking, but this is different. Even the mere idea that you could be carrying his baby makes him move closer to you. He keeps his arm within inches of you, and his hand seems to be halfway to your stomach. As you receive instructions for extracting the Metro team, you struggle to keep your attention off of Tim and how much you love him.

“Officer Bradford,” Wade says. “Bradfords, actually, I want you two guarding the southern exit. This warehouse is laid out in a split-level configuration, so the only door on the south side has a second-floor exit. Metal grate stairs lead up to the door, and that’s where we need your cover.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

Tim glances at you, then nods. He doesn’t want you working this specific job, you’re sure, but an entire team of your friends, your brothers, and sisters in arms, are in danger; you’re not going to leave them there for a restless night of sleep, not knowing if you’re pregnant or not while Tim puts himself in danger.

You glance at the wire hanging from the earpiece tucked carefully into your ear. With your hair pulled out of its usual hairstyle and secured away from your face and off your neck, you resist the urge to fan yourself. Los Angeles isn’t always hot like some people think, but it’s a warm night, and the disturbing heat radiating from the metal wall beside you has the potential to make you miserable.

“Watch your step,” Tim requests quietly.

You slow several steps from the second-floor door and glance over your shoulder. “The landing isn’t big enough for one of us to stand and the door to open.”

Tim moves to the step behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he looks at the top of the stairs. “If someone walks out, grab the closest body part and throw them.”

“Where?” you ask, your brows raised dramatically.

“Over the rail, down to me, I don’t care, but don’t give them time to grab you or raise a weapon.”

“Is this how Lucy feels all the time?” you muse, turning to face the building.

“Car approaching from the west,” Angela alerts in your earpiece.

“Thermal scans show at least a dozen people inside,” a SWAT officer announces. “Two are moving south.”

“Be careful,” Tim tells you as you move your foot to the top step.

The door opens, and you grab the unsuspecting man’s arm and pull forward, twisting your hips as he trips down the steps. He extends his arms to catch his fall, and his gun slips through the grate before his wrists shatter on impact. His strangled scream of pain is silenced when his face meets the metal step beneath him. Unconscious, he slides down a step and stops at Tim’s feet.

Tim looks at him, then back up at you. He raises a finger to remind you that there’s one more. Watching the door, you see it begin to open before it clicks closed again. You wrap your fingers around the handle while Tim handcuffs the unconscious gunman behind you. Pulling the door open, you don’t hear Tim’s warning hiss.

There’s no one inside, so you let the door close again. Less than thirty seconds later, the door opens again, but you’re too close, and only an arm exits. You’re pulled inside as Tim moves his hands up the rails. The door locks behind you, but Tim jumps over the man on the stairs and radios to alert other officers of your entry. Kneeling on the top step, he shoots up through the lock to ensure he can’t accidentally hit you if you’re still standing by the door, then rushes in, his gun raised.

Simultaneously, three different SWAT teams enter the warehouse and begin yelling demands. Tim lowers his gun and looks at you, standing above the man who pulled you inside.

“I told you to stay back from the door,” Tim says.

“Well, I couldn’t pull him through a half-closed door, could I?” you counter.

Tim sighs, then pulls you against his chest and hugs you tightly. It’s quick, and he steps back before you can get your hands around his waist. As officers rush up the stairs to assist you, someone alerts you that there’s one missing suspect.

“My car’s close,” Tim tells you. “Let’s go find this guy and go home.”

Tim’s plan to get home quickly doesn’t work, and the sun is rising over Los Angeles when you finally hear that the last suspect has been taken into custody. Dropping your head back against the headrest, you sigh. A moment later, your phone rings.

“It’s the doctor,” you tell Tim.

He pulls over in an industrial area and shifts into Park. You tap your screen to answer the call and put the phone on speaker before you greet your doctor.

“Good morning, I hope I didn’t wake you,” she says.

“No, ma’am, you didn’t,” you assure her.

“Alright, well, first, sorry I missed your call last night. And, most importantly, I have your tests back. The short answer is that you are not pregnant.”

Tim takes your hand, and you squeeze his fingers.

“In my opinion, you’re experiencing a pseudopregnancy,” she explains. “Following your most recent ovulation, your prolactin levels remained elevated while your progesterone took a dramatic dip. I’d also guess that some of the emotional difficulties of your jobs played a role in causing the false pregnancy. That combination of psychological and hormonal factors likely contributed to your symptoms. Based on the blood tests, your hormone levels should regulate soon, and I’d recommend you take it easy and eat well, get good rest, and assist your hormones in balancing however you can.”

“Will do, doctor,” you reply. “Thank you.”

After you end the call, Tim brushes his thumb against your hand and waits until you turn in your seat.

“Are you disappointed?” he asks.

“No,” you confess. “I don’t think I’m really anything. I was so confused and taken back by everything she said that I didn’t really think about it either way.”

“When or if you are ready for that test to be positive, I’ll be right here,” Tim promises.

His phone rings, and he rolls his eyes before he says, “Yes, Chen?”

“Hey, Lucy!” you add.

“Oh, good, I need to talk to both of you,” she says. “Tim, can you help me get reservations for Friday night?”

“Do you think I’m your assistant, Chen?” he barks into the phone.

“Is that a no?”

Tim doesn’t answer, so you ask, “Another date with Alex?”

“Yes!” Lucy exclaims. “But I need a new outfit, which is what I wanted to ask you about.”

“We can go shopping tomorrow after end of shift if you want.”

“I do! And if you can change Dad’s mind, I’ll bake you cookies.”

“Don’t bribe my wife,” Tim interrupts.

He taps his phone screen and sighs. You laugh as he steers the car back onto the road and drives toward the station to get his truck.

“She’s more work than a baby would be,” Tim complains.

“Does that mean you’re going to help her?”

“Not until I get some time with you that she doesn’t interrupt.”

“Yet you answered her phone call without hesitation,” you muse.

“And you hid your pregnancy from your husband.”

Tim’s phone lights up, displaying that his call from Lucy is still connected. She yells, “What?!” so loudly that Tim swerves, and you begin laughing as he tries to explain.

“You’re not being replaced?” he repeats. “Chen, what is wrong with you?”

Mom and Dad are Fighting Again

Requested Here!

The Bradfords Series Masterlist

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

Summary: You and Tim become Lucy's station parents, and you show your care for her in different ways.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, grumpy!Tim to softie!Tim, "mom and dad are fighting again" is a Castle reference

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

“Bradford!” Wade calls.

“Which one?” you and Tim ask together.

Wade sighs, and Angela adds, “He’s tired just thinking about the conversation. That means he needs Tim.”

“Tim,” Wade clarifies. “Let the other Bradford help Chen prep the shop. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Ooh,” Angela and Lucy taunt.

You roll your eyes, but it is a bit like being called into the principal’s office. Luckily, Tim and Wade get along well. You tap Lucy’s shoulder and wave for her to follow you. After you sign for your gear, Lucy gets hers and Tim’s. Once you’re in the garage and your bag is in your shop, Lucy turns to you with a pout.

“If a Bradford had to be my TO, why couldn’t it have been you?” she asks.

“Tim is the best there is, Luce. I know he can be grumpy and push a little too hard, but I promise learning from him is worth it,” you reply.

“At least I have you to stand up for me.”

“Ah, so that’s why you wanted to be my friend.”

“We’re cops, not friends,” Tim interjects as he walks out of the doorway behind you. “Let’s go, boot.”

“We’re not friends,” Lucy murmurs under her breath. “Says the guy who’s married to another cop.”

“What was that?” Tim asks.

“Tim,” you warn gently.

You shake your head, and he takes a deep breath before getting in the driver’s seat. As you climb into your shop beside him, Lucy rolls her window down and gestures for you to do the same.

“Dad says he loves you,” she says with a wide smile.

“Chen!” Tim yells.

“I love him too. Be safe, both of you,” you call before pulling out.

“We need to talk about boundaries, Chen,” Tim grumbles.

“Better than not talking,” she argues.

Tim leans against the side of the shop and stares straight ahead. It’s an interesting situation, but no matter how long he looks, he can’t decide what the best approach is. Lucy has spouted numerous ideas, and he’s vetoed each one.

“We could call for a lift truck,” she suggests as she paces on the sidewalk.

“Can’t get close enough,” Tim replies.

“Then you know what we have to do.”

Tim looks at Lucy, who now has her hands on her hips and a determined look.

“We have to call smarter reinforcements. Call Bradford,” she demands.

“I’m not calling my wife because we can’t- how could she even help?”

“She’s brilliant. You of all people have to know that.”

“Sounds like you should be running her fan club,” Tim complains.

“Having a hero isn’t wrong. If you don’t call her, I will.”

“And I’ll write you up.”

Lucy sighs and turns to look at the scene again. Tim runs through a few more ideas in his mind, but they all end in a worse situation than the current one. He sighs as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey,” he greets when you answer.

Lucy turns around quickly and claps quietly. Tim glares at her, but her excitement doesn’t diminish as he continues talking to you.

“Are you busy?” he asks.

“Just tell her we need help!” Lucy implores.

“Yeah, that’s Chen. And we do need help.”

Lucy pumps a fist over her head in victory. When Tim ends the call, though, she steps back and quiets.

A few minutes later, you park beside Tim’s shop and exit your car with a smile.

“Someone called for the cavalry?” you joke. “So, what’s so strange Tim Bradford had to call for backup?”

Tim doesn’t answer but grabs your waist and leads you to stand between him and Lucy. He points up through a gap in the trees and you follow his finger. Your responding “huh” does little to make Tim think you’ll have an easier time solving the problem.

“What am I supposed to do about it?” you ask.

Tim turns to glare at Lucy again, and she ducks behind you. You look at Tim from the corner of your eye and he accepts your silent reprimand and gives Lucy some space.

“Did you try to get up there?” you ask.

“No. There’s no good approach,” Tim answers.

“I thought we could climb onto the roof beside it for recon and find a way to reach it,” Lucy says. “Or maybe get a ladder truck in the yard.”

“Roof recon isn’t a terrible idea,” you agree. “Why didn’t you do that?”

“Because I don’t agree that it would get us any more information than we can get from the ground,” Tim explains.

“We can’t get to it from here, though,” Lucy argues. “This park is protected, and we can’t bring CSU out here to traipse all over it. That house is our best bet.”

“Chen, you are not in charge,” Tim snaps.

“Tim,” you warn softly. “Just hear her out.”

“She’s my rookie. I don’t have to do anything she says.”

“I’m not saying to do exactly what she says, but you’re training her, not dictating her. Give her a chance to work this.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breathes out of his nose. The situation is stressful, you know, because every element of being a cop is. But Tim arguing with Lucy will only delay the inevitable.

“Please?” you add. “If her plan to scout from the roof doesn’t work, then I will call the park service and tell them to deal with it.”

“We don’t even know who owns that house.”

“One way to find out,” Lucy says.

You let Lucy take the lead and stand beside Tim on the porch as she talks to the owner of the home. He doesn’t seem inclined to let three police officers climb onto his roof to deal with something that he can’t see.

“I’m done talkin’ to ya,” he says before slamming the door in Lucy’s face. It opens a moment later and he adds, “One more thing.”

You can tell he’s prepared to do something stupid and pull Lucy back quickly. His fist misses her face by an inch, and you move her toward Tim before turning toward the homeowner. His second hit is luckier and lands against the side of your nose, but he’s not trained like you are. When you hit him in the same spot, he goes down hard and fast. You raise your hand to your face and immediately feel blood coming from your nose. There’s likely no real damage, just a busted blood vessel or two.

Lucy begins apologizing as Tim calls for backup and another unit to deal with the issue in the park. He returns his radio to his belt and lays his hands on your shoulders to look at you.

“We’re going back to the shop. Stay with him until backup gets here, Chen,” he commands.

“Yes, sir,” she answers quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Lucy,” you offer.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Tim interjects. “Let’s go.”

Tim keeps a hand on you during every step of the short walk back to the shop. He presses a wad of gauze under your nose and uses his other hand to tip your head slightly forward. When the top of your head hits his chest, you feel him sigh.

“What would you have done? If Chen wasn’t here?” he asks.

“I don’t know, Tim. A huge, gaudy murder confession nailed to a tree in a park is a new one. Park department wouldn’t have been much help, so it may have been one to pass off. Or trespass.”

Tim looks away from you when Lucy returns. You cover his hand to pull the gauze from your face, and when you see there’s no fresh blood, you pull an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit and clean the dried blood from your chin and Tim’s hand. Lucy waits silently, and now she looks like the one waiting to be called to see the principal.

“What were you thinking?” Tim demands when you release his hand. “You never just stand in front of someone’s door. If we hadn’t been there, or if he had opened the door with a knife, what would have happened, Chen?”

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

“You’re right it won’t! I don’t know why you refuse to listen to me or remember basic, common procedures, but it will get you killed, and I’m not going to let that happen. I will take your badge if this is the kind of police work you’ll do once you’re out on your own!”

“Tim!” you interrupt. “She messed up. We all have. Maybe let her prove that she learned something before you threaten her career.”

“No! I don’t want her on the streets alone. I don’t want to imagine what I’d hear if she was partnered with you someday.”

“Drop it,” you demand as you stand.

Your chest presses against Tim’s, and his eyes bore into yours. Lucy watches on with her hands pulled tightly behind her back and guilt in her eyes.

“Or what?” Tim asks.

“You’re making it about me. But you’re done yelling at Chen. Lucy, get in my shop, we’re all going back to the station.”

“For what?” Tim scoffs.

“To learn some human decency, apparently. And if you’re still acting like this when we get back, I’m taking Chen for the rest of the week.”

Tim watches you toss the keys to Lucy before she walks away. His brow furrows and you realize he thought you were leaving him to drive back with Lucy.

“You trust her to drive your shop?” he asks.

“What is this about?” you counter. “Because she was just in a bad place, which is the best that could have happened.”

“She doesn’t apply what she knows. Lucy is smart and she’s got instincts, but she gets excited and jumps too soon.”

“Then walk her through everything. Standing back and being a drill sergeant is only going to make her rush more.”

“When did you become an expert on being a TO?”

Tim smiles softly at you, and you pat his chest.

“Guess you’re teaching me, too.”

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “The guy you booked for assault on an officer is claiming that Chen harassed him. I need your body cams as soon as you return.”

Tim pulls the seatbelt too hard and locks it. You answer Wade that you’ll all be back with your cams shortly. After replacing the radio on the dash, you lay a hand on Tim’s arm and encourage him to take a deep breath.

“That’s not Lucy’s fault,” you remind Tim.

“It was her plan,” Tim responds.

“I agreed with it. Does that make me a terrible cop?”

“Of course it doesn’t, but this isn’t about you!”

“Then what’s it about?” you ask, your voice raising to meet his.

“I feel like I’m failing her and that’s why we keep ending up here!”

Tim huffs as he finishes, and you watch him carefully. His shoulders drop, and you want to hug him but know better than to try while he’s driving.

“You’re not failing her. But there is always room for improvement. Being a teacher doesn’t mean you can’t learn, too.”

“How do you trust her like this?”

“You said it yourself. She’s smart and has good instincts, but she needs a bit of room to learn and hone those skills without feeling pressured to be perfect.”

Tim nods, and you whisper an apology for yelling at him. He shakes his head, and you agree that he doesn’t need to apologize either.

When you exit Wade’s office after surrendering your body cam and making your statement, you hear Angela ask Lucy where you and Tim are. Or, as you’re referred to at the station, The Bradfords.

“Oh, Mom and Dad are fighting again,” Lucy jokes.

“About you?” Angela asks, playing along but aware that Lucy isn’t completely wrong in her phrasing.

“What else?” Lucy counters.

“Chen, a word?” Tim asks as he moves around you.

You watch as he apologizes, and smile to yourself. Angela winks at you as she passes, and you join Tim and Lucy.

“Wade said I could stay with you two for the rest of shift. What are we up to?”

“We still have to deal with the murder confession in the trees,” Tim groans. “Hey, Nolan, have you dealt with a murder confession yet?”

Nolan shakes his head, and Tim looks around for Bishop. When he sees that she’s not close, Tim steps into Wade’s office and asks him to transfer the call to Nolan.

“Thanks, Officer Bradford!” Nolan replies happily.

“No problem,” Tim says.

Lucy hides her smile as she walks beside you. Every moment spent with her requires a level of parenting, and though you’re relatively close in age, you and Tim feel responsible for Lucy. As more than a cop. You show it in your own ways, but she knows how much she means to you and Tim and feels the same.

During one of your very few days off, you want to surprise Tim with dinner. The recipe that you want has seemingly disappeared, though, and you’ll have to call Lucy to get it again. 

When her phone rings, and she answers, “Hey, Mom,” Tim shakes his head.

“No personal calls in my shop,” Tim says.

“You answer for her.”

Tim’s brows furrow until he realizes Lucy isn’t talking to her biological mom, but her station mom. He nods to let her know she can continue talking to you.

“Dad says hi,” she says, just to bother Tim.

“Dad says he needs a day off, too,” Tim grumbles.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Tim says against your lips. “Date night, not LAPD night.”

“It’s Luce,” you argue as you reach for your phone.

Tim catches your wrist and brings it to his lips to distract you. Your phone rings again, though, and Tim’s chimes with an incoming text. He releases your arm hesitantly and pulls you so he can lay his head against your shoulder.

“Hi, Luce,” you answer.

“Put me on speaker!” she requests happily.

“Alright. Tim and I are both here.”

“I passed my rookie exam! I know you’re both off today, but Sergeant Grey knew we couldn’t wait to hear the results. Thank you, both of you, so much!”

“Congratulations!” you and Tim say together.

“We’ll celebrate when we get back,” you add.

“I knew you could do it,” Tim says. “Good job, Lucy.”

“Okay, okay, I need to call my mom and tell her that she was wrong. Enjoy the rest of your time off.”

The line beeps as she ends the call, and you and Tim lock eyes.

“She called us first, didn’t she?” you ask.

“We really are turning into her parents,” Tim says with an exaggerated shudder.

“You look pretty good for a dad,” you tease. “And you care about Lucy no matter how much you pretend not to.”

Tim looks at you for a moment before asking, “You know Lucy’s real parents set the bar low, right?”

“Let me have this. She’s my daughter and she’s no longer a boot.”

Tim groans, but before you can tease him again, he pulls you down to continue kissing you. Until your phone begins buzzing nonstop with excited texts from Lucy, at least.

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

Not my kid!

Tim Bradford x Rookie!reader [PLATONIC] — Ongoing series: Like Father, like Rookie.

Summary: When Angela and Lucy are wholeheartedly convinced that you and Tim have the most ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ father to ‘I love making Tim’s life harder!’ child-like dynamic in the precinct, Tim is stuck with the fact that they won’t shut up about it.

Tim Bradford had been through a lot in his years as a cop. He’d survived war zones, worked under some of the worst training officers the LAPD had to offer, and somehow managed not to strangle Aaron Thorsen on a daily basis. He’d seen it all.

And yet, nothing in his career had prepared him for you.

“Kid, I swear to God—”

You guided the criminal into the backseat of the shop with a grin, entirely unfazed by the exhaustion in his voice as you shut the door. “I got the guy, didn’t I?”

Tim exhaled through his nose, standing on the curb and leaning against the shop. “You got the guy by jumping off a dumpster, nearly breaking your neck, and landing on top of him like some kind of rabid squirrel.”

“Worked, though.”

“You are going to give me a stroke.”

“Eh, you’re too tough for that.”

Tim turned his head just enough to shoot you a look—one of those deadpan, barely-contained irritation looks that had made rookies before you crumble under the weight of his judgment.

But you? You just smiled, perfectly comfortable in the way you leaned back against the shop like this was just another normal day.

Meanwhile, Lucy and Angela were having the time of their lives eavesdropping into you and Tim’s conversation as they walked towards youse.

“I mean,” Lucy mused, arms draped over the front seats like she was settling in for a show, “it’s kind of impressive. You have to admit, Tim—”

“I do not.”

“—that it was a solid takedown.”

Angela, arms crossed but clearly holding back a smirk, nodded. “If a little reckless.”

You lifted a hand, like a lawyer presenting evidence in court. “A calculated risk.”

“Bullshit,” Tim and Angela said at the same time.

Lucy snorted. “You’re getting soft, Tim. Back in the day, you would’ve—”

Tim’s glare cut through the air like a warning shot. “You wanna ride with me for the rest of the month, Chen?”

Lucy grinned but lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?” you asked, head tilting in curiosity.

Angela smirked. “The way you two act like a single dad with a hyperactive kid.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

Tim groaned. “No.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up, her smile downright smug. “Absolutely. He’s all rules and structure, and you’re just out here doing parkour, making his life miserable.” Her expression practically screamed, ‘Did I lie, though?’

Angela tilted her head, considering. “And yet, if anyone else tried to parent them, they’d end up in a ditch.”

You turned to Tim, expectant, eyes bright. “Sir?”

Tim exhaled sharply, staring dead ahead like if he ignored the conversation long enough, it would cease to exist. His jaw tensed, hands gripping his vest as he muttered under his breath—

“I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Lucy let out a delighted laugh. “Oh my God, that was the most dad thing he could’ve said.” She exclaimed to Angela, the two of them borderline snorting of laughter as if you and Tim weren’t there.

Tim made a mental note to start requesting solo patrols.

Meanwhile, you were still grinning like you’d just won the precinct lottery, leaning into your seat with the kind of self-satisfied energy that made Tim’s eye twitch. “So does that make Lucy the fun aunt?”

Angela snorted. “She wishes. If anything, I’m the cool aunt, and Lucy’s the big sister who has to keep you alive while Dad’s at work.”

Lucy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d just been hit. “That’s… painfully accurate.”

Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he could physically wipe away the conversation. “You’re all insufferable.”

You, unfazed as ever, nudged his arm with your shoulder, practically radiating warmth and mischief. “C’mon, sir. You know you love us.”

Tim had been a cop for a long time. He knew how to lie. Knew how to keep a straight face. Knew how to bluff his way through situations that should’ve killed him.

And yet, when you said it like that, with all the unshakable confidence of someone who had already decided he was stuck with you, Tim didn’t have it in him to argue.

He sighed instead, looking into the shop windows as if there was something more important to focus on besides this conversation, and muttered under his breath.

“Not my kid.”

Angela leaned against the shop, arms crossed, the smirk on her face downright smug. “Oh, please. You act like it’s just us seeing it, but literally everyone knows.” She said, holding a hand up as if to say ‘Oh, you don’t get to talk just yet.’ when Tim opened his mouth to protest.

“Grey watches you suffer on purpose. Nolan says you remind him of when he first became a dad,”

“Lopez, shut the hell—“

Angela only continued, “West told me he once saw you instinctively put an arm out to stop them from stepping into traffic—mid-lecture—like a stressed-out parent.” Her voice laced with a knowing tone as she crossed her arms, “And me? I’ve personally witnessed you yank them back by the collar when they tried to chase a suspect barefoot because, and I quote, ‘I had to know if I could.’”

A small ‘Ohhh, I remember that.’ left your lips, huffing a laugh at the memory that was personally hilarious to you, but excruciating to Tim.

“Not to mention, just last week, you scolded them for getting blood on their uniform like it was grass stains on a kid’s soccer jersey.” Angela raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “So tell me again how they’re ‘not your kid.’”

Lucy whistled, “Damn, Wesley been teaching you a thing or two.” she smirked.

The sidewalk fell into a momentary silence, save for the hum of the engine and the distant chatter of dispatch over the radio.

You, still grinning like you’d just won some unspoken battle, hopped into the shop and settled into the passenger seat, clearly pleased with yourself.

Lucy exchanged a knowing look with Angela, both of them reveling in Tim’s suffering as they walked back to their own shops.

And Tim? He just exhaled slowly, staring at the road like it held the answers to all of life’s problems—like if he focused hard enough, he could pretend he wasn’t stuck in a moving circus.

But deep down, buried beneath the exasperation and the ever-present headache that came with being responsible for you, he knew the truth.

He’d never admit it out loud, but he was stuck with you. And worse? He didn’t actually mind.

taglist: @its-ares @nevereclipse @chezze-its @mcckunty

Tim Through the Years - The Sibling Dinner

Series Masterlist

Summary: Tim meets your overprotective brothers. 0.7k+ words.

“Mashed potatoes... corn... chicken... croissants... gravy,” you mumbled while running around the kitchen of your home. You wiped your forehead and smeared flour on yourself as you checked on the chicken. 

“Hey babe! I’m here!” Tim shouted from your front door, letting himself in with the key he had gotten from you so he could take care of your many houseplants when you were gone for a week. Tim walked into the kitchen with you running around trying to get everything done and wearing a very messy apron.

“Oh! Hi, honey, I didn’t see you come in,” you said while mashing the potatoes.

Tim gave you a soft smile and walked up to you. “Baby, why don’t you go get ready and I’ll finish up.” He took a wet cloth and started to wipe away any stray food that had landed on your face.

“But... tonight has to be perfect!” You said while mashing harder and sloshing milk everywhere. You felt eyes on you and made eye contact with Tim and he gave you the look. 

“Sigh, okay. Thank you.” You kissed him softly on the cheek and quickly left to get ready. You peeked around the corner to watch him. “Pie needs to come out of the oven in 5 minutes and I make homemade gravy so the recipe card is in my cookbook...” You stopped when Tim crossed his arms and stared at you. You looked away, embarrassed, and ran off to your room.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smoothed down the outfit you decided to wear. Three sharp knocks hit the door before Tim announced, “They are here!”

You ran to the door and opened it to see your twin and older brother standing in the doorway. 

“Hey munchkin,” your eldest brother said while giving you a big bear hug.

“You're squishing me!” you tried to say loudly but it came out muffled. Your older brother laughed, let you go, and pushed you to hug your twin. He made eye contact with Tim and stood in front of the both of you. “Who’s this?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, this is Tim... my boyfriend. Tim, meet my older brother Dean and twin brother Sam,” you said nervously.

The staring didn’t stop. Dean stared and Tim stared right back at each other. Dinner was very awkward. No one wanted to say anything for fear of what could happen. You nervously bit your bottom lip and moved your fork around the plate, a little too nervous to eat. 

“So Tim, what do you do?” Sam asked to try to break the tension.

“I’m a Sergeant for the LAPD,” Tim said, breaking his stare to look at Sam.

You heard Dean snicker next to you and you kicked him under the table. “Don’t do this,” you whisper-shouted at him.

Dean gave you a mean look and rubbed his knee. Dean turned his attention to Tim, who sat across from him at the table. 

“So Tim, you're a police officer. What are you going to do when you die on duty and leave our sister here?” Dean asked with an evil look.

“I don’t plan on ever leaving her. Ever,” Tim stated firmly as he stared right back.

“You don’t know that. And I don’t like the idea of my little sister being here heartbroken because you wanted to be Mr. Hero.” Dean sneered.

“Oh, like you left her and Sam when you ran away from home because of your alcoholic father?” Tim sneered right back. 

Dean’s face contorted into anger quickly. “I did that so I could provide a safe, healthy environment for my siblings."

“Um, let’s change topics shall we?” Sam interrupted. “Munchkin, could you pass the croissants?” 

“Fine, tell me, Tim. Have you ever killed anyone? You might be a danger to my little sis,” Dean stated while stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

You don’t know what happened after that, but there was lots of shouting. Doors slamming and you, sitting in your seat with tears in your eyes. As Dean left your house in a rage, Sam stayed to support you.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” Tim hugged you and kissed your head softly, repeating it over and over. Dean’s support meant everything to you... you didn’t know what you’d do if Tim and Dean could never get along. 

𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: author! ransom drysdale x touch starved! girlfriend! reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You have the perfect cure for Ransom's writer's block.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k+

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content! filthy smut, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, swearing, creampie

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

“Fuck!” Ransom slammed his fist down on the dining room table. He ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. With a sigh, he slowly closes the lid of his laptop. He had made no progress on his novel despite working for hours on the first draft, all the words he typed out seeming forced and not flowing right, resulting in him deleting everything and starting over.

“Ransom!” Y/N’s voice rang out, drawing his attention as she entered the dining room. His eyes lifted to meet hers, taking in her appearance in the silk nightgown that stopped just above her knees.

For a moment, he contemplates telling her to leave, but he can't bring himself to do so. Instead, he sighs and runs his hand through his tousled hair once more.

She approached Ransom, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind as she stood behind his chair. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine, but he remained steadfast in his determination to meet his deadline.

Her concern and desire were palpable in her tone as she whispered into his ear, "You've been working all night. Come to bed. For my sake, baby?"

He sighed, his lips slightly parting. "No. I've got a deadline. You know how important this book is to me." His stubbornness was clear in his tone, but Y/N wasn't yet done. She knew how much his writing meant to him, yet she was unwilling to give up.

After hearing Ransom's response, her desire to be with him outweighed her concern for his writing deadline. Her hands slid down his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, her lips brushing against his jaw. He still refused to give up writing, but at that moment, all she wanted was for her boyfriend's attention to be directed at her...and her only.

“Ransom, I need you,” she begs, one hand inching closer to his belt buckle. And before she can move another inch, he snatches her wrist, surprising her.

He smirks when he hears her gasp. “You’re a persistent little thing, aren’t you?” Still holding her wrist, he pulls her down onto his lap, his arm snaking around her waist to hold her in place. 

While the other glides down her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You think you can just waltz in here and I’m gonna give you what you want? Hm?”

“Ransom, please—?” He interrupts her, cupping her mouth with his palm. His other arm still holding her against him, his growing bulge pressed against her ass. “You feel that? That’s all me, baby girl.” She clenches her thighs together, a familiar honeyed heat pooling in her lower belly.

Ransom grins when she doesn’t answer. “Here’s what’s going to happen; you’re going to do what I say, and if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

She nods as he leans back against his chair, arms loosely falling to each side. Leaving Y/N free to move about, but she remains sitting. Eyes pleading for some sign of what she’s meant to do, Ransom takes note, but he says nothing. He hums, his fingers trailing over her shoulders, pushing down the thin strap. “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to ride my thigh. Show me how much you want me,” he whispered in a seductive tone.

Y/N takes a deep breath and forces herself to move, shifting so she's now straddling Ransom's thigh while he sits in his chair. She can already feel the tension in her own body, as she stares at his handsome face in anticipation. She can also feel the heat building within her as his fingers trail over her shoulders and down the thin straps of her nightgown.

Hands clinging to the fabric of his sweater as she started to move against his leg. Soft whimpers and moans escaped past her glossy lips, and he hummed his approval. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat when his hands trailed up her bare thigh, the cold of his rings grazing the sensitive skin. 

“Mmm. Good girl,” he praised. His hands moved up her sides, dancing under the fabric of her nightgown, slowly teasingly inch by inch. 

With her eyes closed in pure bliss, she threw her head back. He pushed the hem of her gown up, licking his lips as he felt his thigh begin to get damp from her arousal.

“Fuck, you’re doing so great for me, sweetheart,” Ransom groans against her ear, and a moan escapes her lips, rocking back and forth against him faster, losing all composure.

“C’mere,” he drawls as his thumb slides to her front, brushing her swollen lips, collecting her wetness. Ransom smirked devilishly, a hungry gaze overtaking his lust-filled blue eyes when she gazed down at him, finding satisfaction in the neediness her body provided.

She trembled at Ransom's devilish smirk, her breath catching in her throat as his thumb brushed against her swollen folds. As his thumb continued to collect her wetness, she felt herself growing even more aroused, yet she couldn't help but feel vulnerable as she gave in to Ransom and his touch.

She rocked back and forth, her body pressing harder against him as her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, her lips seeking his own. Ransom grunted in appreciation and pleasure as he tightened his grasp on her thighs and leaned in closer to her. His hunger for her was palpable in the way he gazed at her with longing and lust in his eyes.

Ransom smirked, taking his thumb into his mouth. His tongue curled around his thumb with a guttural groan. He loved it—craved the taste of her desire. He gripped her chin, forcing his lips on her.

She melted into the kiss, tongues swirling as their breaths melded into one. Y/N groaned softly when the loss of contact, only to shiver when his icy blue eyes pinned her with their intensity.

"Get up. Bend over, arms spread out on the table," he told her after a moment, his voice still filled with lust. But as she started to move toward the table, Ransom pulled her back, turning her toward him again.

"On second thought," he told her, “I want to see that pretty face as I pound into that tight cunt. Face this way, like that... yes, baby—perfect.” His fingers trailed between her slit, his fingers dangerously close to her entrance.

Y/N whimpered when Ransom pressed his knee between her thighs, spreading her open for him. Leaning forward to capture his lips, her nipples hardened against his chest. “Uh-uh. Hands-on the table,” he snapped. “Spread.”

She did as he ordered. He looked down at her, taking her in, and bit the corner of his bottom lip. His mouth pressed into a smug grin. “Fucking perfect.” Ransom slid his hands back down the softness of her inner thigh, gripping tighter as they made their way to the apex of her sex.

Two digits teased her soaked opening, plunging them both inside of her warmth at a slow pace, dragging in and out. Her hips bucked upward against his hand, and he groaned at her eagerness.

Her hands curled, gripping the edge of the table. Her breath grew heavier and heavier as his fingers moved in and out of her. “Mmmm,” she whimpered.

“You are so wet and hot,” Ransom hissed into her ear. “Do you know what that does to me?” She watched him unbuckle the clasp of his belt, her eyes heavy with lust, watching every movement he made, admiring the muscles that danced underneath his thick white sweater as he slowly dragged it over his head and cast it aside.

He smirked at her, enjoying her wanton eyes, needing him as much as he did her. He stepped close to the table, pulling his cock free, and stroking it in his hand. She felt her mouth salivate.

“This is mine... all mine,” his eyes narrowed on hers. He brought the head of his cock against her slit. It jumped and pulsed against her slick core. The hardness was driving her mad. She pouted up at him.

“That look,” He exhaled harshly. “is why I’m going to give you whatever you want. Tell me what you want...don’t hold back. If you want my dick, then tell me, be the dirty girl I know you can be.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, leaned down, and kissed her deeply. “Let go... give into the pleasure. Release the pent-up desires you’ve kept bottled inside.” Y/N couldn’t handle it; she’d gone far too long without having the weight of him over her body and the touch of him upon her skin.

The words flew from her lips freely. “Ransom, fuck, I need you...” she muttered, followed by a quick hitch, “I need to feel it in me.”

He smirked, pleased. “Yeah, baby?” She nodded; the next thing, his cock plunged deep inside of her with a grunt. “Ransom...” she moaned as he pulled back out slowly, leaving his tip to catch on the edge of her throbbing sex.

 Her fingers gripped the edge of the table for purchase when he pushed his way inside, filling her so completely with himself. There was nothing between them, they were one.

Ransom placed his hands on her hips, his fingertips biting into her flesh as he ground his cock deeper and harder against her. She wrapped her arms around his body and held on as he pumped into her.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Is my dick what you missed when you touched yourself? Did your own hand bring you pleasure?” She mewled out her approval when his thumb caressed against her lower abdomen, making it press harder on the spot that made her head spin faster until, finally, her cunt pulsed with every wave of electricity that crackled through her body. She felt every nerve within her clamp down and cling to his length as it filled her to her brink.

His palms pressed to her breasts, pinching the perked buds as her pleasure rose. Ransom picked up the pace, pushing into her harder, hitting that delicious spot that had her back arching.

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it, baby.” Her walls clenched tighter around his length, sucking him in and not releasing. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, nibbling on the sensitive spot beneath her jawline, earning more melodic moans from her.

“You. I want you, all of you—God, fuck yes,” she cried out as he slowed the pace of his thrusts, holding her still as his pelvis hit her clit. Each time he drew back, it left her needy and wanting. Ransom placed her ankle atop his shoulders, looking down between them as his cock slid into her, glistening with her slick. 

The sounds of their pleasure mingling echoed off the empty walls of the Drysdale residence. Ransom groaned loudly as his eyes closed, letting the sensations roll over him like a thunderous storm. She rolled her hips to meet his thrusts. His balls slapping against her ass. He grunted, loving the feeling of her pussy, the tight heat, and velvety walls.

“Such a greedy girl, always wanting to be full of my cock—fuck! Just like that baby, cumming already...” He slapped his hands onto her hipbones and rode her harder. She could see stars behind her lids, a telltale sign that she was nearing release. 

His mouth dipped low, suckling at the peaks of her breast and pulling one taut nipple into his mouth, alternating between them. “I fucking love these tits...” he mumbled against her skin. “Just seeing you like this—fuck, baby, you make me feel things I never thought possible.”

“I love you, Ransom,” she whimpered when he drove into her in short, brutal jabs. He slowed and stared down at her. He smiled and caressed her face.

“I know,” he said as he kissed her. Her orgasm slammed into her, shattering her from the inside out, and she trembled from the sensation as she lost control of all faculties.

Her toes curled against his back, and her heels dug in. She shook against him and clawed at the smooth wood as Ransom continued to slide into her, slowing his movements while she rode the high.

His chest rumbled in a feral growl as his seed shot forth and flooded her core. He stilled for a moment and waited until he was spent. Pulling from her, he admired the sight before him. His cum slowly seeped from her slit and dripped from her folds onto the floor. A dark sense of satisfaction settled over him, and he gave a smug smile.

When she recovered, she sat up slowly, wincing slightly. Her sore muscles ached, but she felt sated in all ways. Ransom pulled her up against him, wrapping his arms around her. She breathed him in, sighing happily. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Sorry, I got carried away,” he kissed her neck.

She laughed. “No, but I will be tomorrow, but it will be worth it.”

“What am I going to do with you?” he mused.

“I have a few ideas,” she grinned as she looped her arms around his neck.

Ransom laughed and peppered kisses over her neck. “It seems I created a monster,” he quipped, “but don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of underwear. You knew what you were doing, you little devil.”

“What can I say? When it comes to you, I can be quite needy. Besides, how else would I get you to stop working?” Ransom scoffed, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her, kissing the top of her head.

“You head up to bed. I’ll be there soon. Okay, baby?” he asked. She nodded.

“Okay, baby, I’ll be waiting for you,” she replied as he helped her to her feet and walked over to grab his discarded clothes. He watched as she left the dining room.

Once she was out of view, Ransom sat back down in his chair. As he tried to resume his work, all he could think about was his girlfriend upstairs in their bed. The sounds of her soft cries, the feel of her under his touch. He licked his lips.

Who knew writer’s block could be such a blessing?

As he saved his document, he smiled and shut the lid of his laptop. Work could wait another day. For now, he had something more important to take care of.

banner credit: @.saradika

First Day to Live

After Last Day to Live

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: Tim leads you into forever together, making the first day of the rest of your life perfect.

Warnings/Word Count: 1.1k+ words of fluff

A/N: Thank you @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for this idea! It was supposed to be a blurb but I got carried away😅 | Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

You sigh, rolling your stiff shoulder forward as you push the door closed behind you. After you set your bag aside, you walk farther into the house, listening for Tim. He’s off work today and the rest of the weekend. After the last few days of being in the field with your team, you’re looking forward to a quiet weekend with him. 

As you enter the kitchen, Tim looks up from the counter. He’s got a dish towel tossed over his shoulder, and your favorite food is cooking behind him. 

“You’re the best,” you sigh, smiling as you lean against the end of the cabinets. 

Tim smiles, but his eyes flit between your shoulders and your face. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re favoring your right arm,” he points out. He sets his utensil aside and then wipes his hands on the towel as he walks toward you. 

“Yeah,” you admit. “It’s fine though, just a little stiff.”

“From?” Tim asks, brushing his fingers lightly over your collarbone toward your left shoulder. 

You shiver under his touch and unconsciously lean closer to him. “I landed on it. The impact rolled it a little. Might bruise overnight, but nothing serious.”

Tim smiles and repeats, “From?”

Sighing, you answer, “Street, Tan, and I had to jump off a roof.”

“You jumped off a roof and it’s nothing serious?”

“Tim,” you say, laying your hands against his chest. “It was a patio roof and we landed in soft dirt. We’re fine. The alternative was way worse.”

“The explosion this morning,” Tim remembers. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Remember my promise?” you ask. 

“The promise to think about the outcome before you act? Yeah, and clearly you considered all the possibilities of jumping off a roof.”

You smile at his sarcastic tone, but you both know you did what you had to do. There were no self-sacrificial motives, no better options, and a stiff shoulder truly is the best outcome you could have had. Tim cares about you, and you’ve been more thoughtful about what you do since he accused you of treating every day like it was the last to live. You want to come home to him… and you don’t want to get yelled at again. 

“I’ve got ibuprofen in my system,” you say. “So I’m ready for anything.”

“No, you’re not,” Tim argues. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“I can smell that,” you reply, smiling brightly. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

Tim taps your waist softly, then directs you to change. He’s already put your favorite comfortable outfit in the bathroom. You return to the kitchen once you’re ready for a night in. Tim is putting prepared plates on two trays, and you lift your brows. 

“What are we doing?” you ask. 

“Follow me.”

You take Tim’s hand, following him to the back door. He leads you to the patio, and your jaw drops when you see the evening he’s prepared for you.

“This is amazing,” you murmur, looking at the decorations and comfortable setup beneath the Los Angeles sunset. 

“That’s all you,” Tim replies, gently patting his front pocket.

Tim pushes your sleeve out of the way to look at your shoulder before he pulls you against his side. Every moment you spend with Tim is perfect, but a quiet evening is what you both need. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Tim asks. 

You look toward him, and he gestures to Kojo, sprawled across Tim’s lap and keeping him in place. 

“Sure,” you answer. 

“Can you get some socks out of my drawer?”

Pinching your brows, you remain in place and stare at Tim. 

“Please?” he adds softly, brushing his hand over your hair. 

You nod, despite his odd request, and stand. Kojo grunts behind your back, but you don’t turn around as you pull Tim’s drawer open. You reach for a pair of socks but stop when you see a small black box atop the neatly rolled socks. 

“Tim?” you ask softly, lifting the box. “What is this?”

You turn as you speak, not expecting to see Tim smiling up at you on one knee. He nods toward the box, and you inhale shakily as you open it. The ring inside is perfect. Pressure builds in your eyes as you run your finger over it. 

“I love you,” Tim begins. “And I don’t want to live another day without you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Every moment at your side is like a breath of fresh air.” He smiles, taking the ring box. With the ring in his fingers, he tosses the velvet box aside. “I love you with every part of me. Will you marry me?”

You don’t answer, but Tim’s smile grows as you sink to your knees before him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He removes your left arm from his neck, lowering it gently before he cups your chin in his hand and kisses you. 

“I love you,” you reply. “You are all of my tomorrows. You make every day feel like the beginning.”

“Is that a yes?” Tim asks. 

“It’s a yes. It will be a yes every day for the rest of our lives.”

Tim slides the ring carefully onto your finger before he kisses you again. Kojo whines from the bed, and Tim chuckles against your lips before he lifts you into his arms as he stands. On the bed, you pull back and press your forehead against Tim’s. 

“Wait, that’s why you mentioned your sock drawer?!” you exclaim. 

“I thought you took away my chance to propose,” Tim defends. “It slipped out.”

“You… I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Kojo pushes his head between your stomach and Tim to rest in your lap. You pet him, looking down at your engagement ring as Tim moves to your side. 

“You know how to plan a proposal, Mr. Bradford,” you applaud. 

“I try. You made it pretty easy.”

“So you mean my reckless behavior didn’t interfere?” you tease. 

“Which one of us jumped off a roof today?”

“Street jumped first.” Tim rolls his eyes, and you seize the opportunity to mess with him. “Did you ask Deacon for his blessing?”

Tim’s eyes widen comically. “Should I have? I mean, I know you’re close, but-“

“No,” you interrupt with a laugh. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“And we’ll be perfect tomorrow,” Tim adds. “Maybe this can be the first day to live. The first day or forever.”

“Tim!” you exclaim, moving carefully to hold his face. “You said something romantic!”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, softening under your affection. 

“You’re going to be my husband, that means I get what I want. I stop being reckless and you start being like this all the time. Deal?”

Tim kisses you rather than shaking your offered hand. As it grows later, you look forward to a new day, a new beginning, and forever at Tim’s side. 

hey I was wondering if I could request a Wally x batsis!reader x Roy where the two are fighting over batsis and the batboys are taking sides and getting a little too invested in her love life, thanks luv!!❤️

Warnings: references to sex, cursing,

word count: 0.6k

Y/N Wayne was the crush of hundreds of thousands of people and it was obvious why. Her gorgeous brown skin managed to shimmer under the Gotham clouds, her smile that could replace the sun, and she had a heart that was pure. Her track record was not as clear. Having dated a few professional basketball players, a few cheerleaders, and even a few actors, no one really stuck around. Not like Wally and Roy, at least.

Wally had a crush on Y/N from the first time that Dick invited him over. Of course, Y/N was a year or two older than him but that did not stop him from flirting with her. Dick always hit him in the back of the head after he did but Wally thought it was well worth it. Especially, because Y/N was his first kiss, not that he told Dick that. He figured that he would grow out of his childhood crush but he never did. Sure he dated other girls but something about Y/N kept drawing him back.

Roy had a crush on Y/N since Jason broke into her apartment while they needed a place to lay low. He remembers the night like it was yesterday. Jason had slipped the both of them into a rather nice safe house, which ended up being a condo. Y/N was supposed to be at fashion week in Paris but she ended up not going. When she heard footsteps in her apartment, she threw two batarangs at Roy's head and he'd been infatuated ever since. Not to mention, she babysits Lian from time to time and he nearly melts every time he sees them together.

"I'm telling you, she's gonna end up with Roy," Jason spoke as he and Dick were playing Super Smash Bros. It had been a big debate between the two.

"Nah, Wally doesn't have as much baggage. Love the guy but not for my sister," Dick was honest. Wally seemed to be the option with the least difficulties. However, they were Waynes and if their love wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be them.

"Oh, so you'd rather our sister be with someone who regularly disappears into the speed force," Jason countered as he unlocked his special move in the game. He regularly kicked Dick's ass in this game but for some reason, Dick insisted on playing it.

"What are you guys talking about?" Y/N asked as she walked into the home theater. She couldn't find her other siblings so she was stuck with these two for now.

"You need to pick between Roy and Wally," Jason stated as he put the game on pause. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the sudden statement. No one in her family had ever demanded something of her before.

"First of all, I don't have to do shit but stay black and die. Second of all, I am trying," She whined a little.

"I mean it can't be that hard," Dick said hoping to lighten the mood.

"How's Kori? Or are you with Babs?" Y/N asked looking him in his eyes. Dick was taken aback as he put his hand on his chest.

"Damn," Jason mumbled, he was suddenly grateful that his love life was not being broadcasted.

"Low blow, man," Dick sniffled.

"I like them both," Y/N admitted. She wasn't sure which one she liked more. They both were great in their own ways. She also didn't want to be a heartbreaker.

"Which one do you like better?" Jason asked, wishing for a little clarity. He was really hoping she was leaning more toward Roy.

"Well, Wally can vibrate his entire body but Roy does this thing with his tong-," Y/N started. She knew saying this would allow her brothers to leave her alone.

"No! No! I do not need to know," Dick started screaming while covering his ears. He quickly left the theater room and did not bother to look back.

"So, what'd we learn?" Y/N asked while looking at her remaining brother.

"Not to ask about your love life." Jason made a face of disgust while Y/N just smiled.