"Oh, My God, My Parents Are Swingers!"

Mom and Dad Are Still Fighting

Part 2 of The Bradfords

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

Summary: After a long night, you're grateful for Lucy and all she does for you. You continue protecting her from Tim's attitude, even though you're lying to them.

Warnings: mostly fluff, brief angst, threats and robbery. typical rookie stuff.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: I love this dynamic!! Two Bradfords caring about Lucy in their own ways is so fun to write (and being married to Tim is a dream by itself). I will continue abusing Chenford gifs for this storyline lol.

“Good morning, Mom,” Lucy calls as she enters the bullpen. 

She passes you a cup of your favorite drink, and you look at Tim quickly. He tilts his chin to the side, and you nod once. You’ve been talking without speaking for years, and you’re more grateful than ever for your silent language.

“Thank you so much, Lucy,” you say.

You pull her into a hug that lasts longer than usual. She couldn’t know that you had a long night and needed this today: the drink and the hug. Hence, your shared ‘did you tell her?’ ‘no, she just cares’ look shared with Tim.

“Where’s mine?” Tim inquires with his brows raised.

“I, uh, I didn’t know your order,” Lucy says carefully. “Sorry.”

Angela calls for you, and you thank Lucy again as you walk away. Tim watches you go; he knows you aren’t feeling great and appreciates Lucy’s care on your behalf.

“Thanks, Chen,” he says.

“For what? I didn’t get you anything.”

“You should know that caring about her is the same as caring about me. At least as far as I’m concerned,” he answers. “Now get ready.”

Your long night catches up to you quickly. By your mid-morning break, you’re feeling tired and stressed. The worst part of what you’re feeling is that you haven’t told anyone why you’re feeling it. Tim stayed up with you most of the night and held you to comfort you, and while you appreciate it, it only upsets you more because he did it without asking why you needed it.

“7-Adam-19 requesting backup,” Chen calls over the radio. “11351; suspect in possession of heroin and oxycodone.”

“Dispatch, attach me to 7-Adam-19’s backup call,” you request.

You drive to the address dispatch provided and hope your day improves after seeing Tim again. When you arrive, the suspect is cuffed and in the back of Tim’s shop as they search his car for other drugs.

“Hey,” you call as you exit your car. “What do you need?”

Tim looks at you as Lucy says, “Suspect escort and search assistance.”

“I can do either. Let me know what you want me to do,” you offer.

“Suspect escort, please,” Tim answers. He tips his head to the side, and you walk to the sidewalk with him.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah. So, you just want me to get him to booking?” you reply, brushing off Tim's concern.

“Please. Will you tell me if you stop being okay?”

“Yes, Tim. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at lunch.”

You turn away from Tim and move the driver in custody into your shop to take him back to the station. Tim and Lucy abandon their search to watch you leave.

“Is she alright?” Lucy asks.

You turn a corner, disappearing from Tim’s view, and his jaw tightens. He couldn’t get an answer from you, and now Lucy thinks he knows everything in your head. Tim refuses to show worry, so he lets his concern come out as anger and annoyance.

“That is not your business or an appropriate topic to discuss while we are on duty, Chen. Focus,” he replies.

Lucy nods and returns to the search of the car, but she’s beginning to feel just as stressed as you and Tim. You all care about each other and moving around in circles like this won’t help.

“Goodnight, Luce,” you call as you walk beside Tim to go home.

“Hey, do you want to go to dinner with me on Friday?” she asks. “Just to catch up, hang out?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you answer with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Tim grumbles beside you, and you’re convinced it’s because he didn’t get an invite.

“We’ll have breakfast Saturday,” you promise him.

Lucy laughs behind you, and you wave over your shoulder as Tim spreads his hand across your back and leads you toward his truck. You know he’ll hold you close again all night, even if you don’t ask, because he comforts you without pushing you. When or if you want to talk about it, he’s ready to listen, but he knows what it is like to need room, and he’d never take that from you or force you to tell him anything before you’re ready. He’s amazing, and you wish you could share what is bothering you, but you can’t put any more people in danger.

When dispatch alerts you to a call in your area, you accept it, hoping to get your mind off everything. The officer reads Lucy’s apartment building address, and your stomach drops. You tell dispatch to attach Bradford and Chen to the call before hitting your lights and sirens to get there as fast as possible.

The apartment building, for the most part, has been ransacked. Doors are broken, windows broken and locks picked, and residents’ belongings are strewn through the halls, but nothing appears to be missing. Tim and Lucy arrive a few minutes after you do and meet you on Lucy’s floor. Her apartment is trashed, but she can’t see where anything has been stolen.

You lead Tim through the other side of her apartment before stopping suddenly.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Someone called me a few nights ago… They threatened to do something to Lucy, and I think this was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

He looks over your shoulder to ensure no one is listening before giving you his complete attention.

“Wade knew, but he said that you and Lucy shouldn’t know because the threat was vague, and it would just put you on edge.”

“That should have been my decision!”

“Tim, I’m sorry.”

Tim’s eyes soften before he nods. “Is that what you’ve been so upset about? You were worried about Chen?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. “But this looks planned, intentional. They only went into certain apartments, and the stuff thrown everywhere was an afterthought.”

“Someone was looking for something,” Tim agrees.

“But what?”

Tim looks around before yelling, “Chen! Get in here!”

“Yes, sir?” she asks as she enters.

“What do you have in here that someone would be so desperate to get?” he asks.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know. Think about it, Lucy. What would someone risk their freedom, their life for, and do this kind of damage to hide?”

Lucy taps her fingers against her thigh as she thinks. Your surprise phone call didn't provide information about what they wanted, so you stay quiet.

“Well?” Tim pushes.

“Give her a second to think,” you scold. “She didn’t ask for this, she’s not the criminal. Be nice.”

Tim clenches his jaw. In his mind, she may as well be the criminal. She led someone to her apartment, to you, and you’ve been worried because of her. His annoyance and need for answers is justified.

“Wait, I got a necklace at a police auction!” she says suddenly.

“You bought jewelry at a police auction?” Tim asks. “Last boyfriend really that cheap?”

You elbow Tim and shake your head. “Leave her alone.”

“Who buys a single necklace at a police auction?” he argues. “A car, a trailer, sure. But one necklace?”

“It was expensive,” Lucy defends.

“Which means whoever wants it is probably the one responsible for the police having it,” you deduce. “I’m going to go help them search the upper floors. Tim, be nice. Lucy, look for the necklace, please.”

You walk into the stairwell and find yourself face-to-face with a Humphrey Bogart wannabe in a ski mask. It takes less than thirty seconds to get the cuffs on him, and based on his surprise, he thought he had already outsmarted the cops with the widespread burglary distraction.

After you pass him off to another officer, you return to Lucy’s apartment and let them know he’s in custody.

“Bradford, why does my suspect have a black eye?” Wade asks over the radio.

“He threatened Lucy,” you answer quickly. “But, who knows, maybe he already had that. He was wearing a ski mask, after all.”

“You hit him for threatening your puppy, station kid, whatever you call her?” Tim asks with his brows raised.

“Thanks, Mom,” Lucy calls from her bedroom.

“We’re leaving,” Tim announces. “Good luck finding your criminal necklace.”

“It’s pretty!” Lucy yells as you walk out.

“I need a nap now,” you tell Tim.

He nods and says, “I always need one after working with Chen.”

Mr. Barber’s Assistant | Andy Barber

Summary: After Jacob’s Trial everything had changed for Andy Barber. He lost his wife, he almost lost his job and his son. Nothing seemed right in his life. Nothing but YOU.

Word Count:  16,090 (Sorry kids, it’s a long one.) 

Warnings: Some Spoilers from Defending Jacob. Mentions of a car accident. Interoffice Romance. Brief mentions of a murder. unprotected sex, Multiple Point of Views. Boss|Assistant dynamic. Cursing. Mentions of cheating. Divorce. Mentions of being in the hospital. Laurie being a bitch. Neal being an asshole. Angry|Andy. pet names. Over protective Andy. Marking!Kink. Having a crush on your boss. Idiots in love with each other. keeping secrets. Mentions of Drinking. Self Doubt. Dirty Talk. Very Brief Hand job (if you squint.). fingering. Oral (f). edging (if you squint.). Consensual Sex. Regret. Second thoughts. Jealous Neal. Slightly possessive Andy. Brief Mention of Andy Getting Himself Off. Teasing. Mentions of Spanking. Mentions of mental health. Bipolar disorder. borderline personality disorder. Over protective Dad!Andy. Guilt about feeling happy. Toxic misogynistic male behavior. Some Ex-Wife Drama. Getting punched in the face.(PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING)

A|N: Hello! Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who reads this and or any of my stories. I hope you enjoy. please feel free to let me know your thoughts. Also I apologize for the length of this one I kind of got carried away. :) enjoy friends. (Pics for the moodboard came from pinterest. I do not own.)  

“Assistant District Attorney; Andy Barber?” a voice from behind you calls. You turn around to see a tall gentleman standing there behind you. There was silence for a minute before you spoke. “Mr. Logiudice, Mr. Barber is in a meeting with the DA.” you say, a firm tone in your voice. He smirked. Like you had just said something funny. Which you had not. “Doll, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Neal.” he stepped towards you.. The door to Andy’s Office swings open. Thank god. You exhale. “Leave her alone Neal, how many times do I have to TELL you…” Andy turns and gives you a flirty wink and nod. You couldn’t help but blush. You sit back behind your desk. Neal sighs, rolling his eyes. “Besides Neal, you’re not her type anyways.” he shoots a blue eyed gaze your way and you practically melt into your chair, biting your lip. 

You weren’t going to lie. You had a crush on the ADA… who didn’t? He was incredibly gorgeous, smart, powerful and sweet as hell, but don’t fuck with him. He didn’t take shit from anyone and everyone knew it. You’d been ADA Barber’s assistant for five years and well it had been a rough last couple of years for him, especially with his son’s trial, and the aftermath of it, his father, through getting divorced from his wife, the accident, the long nights spent at the hospital with Jacob in a coma. It had been a pretty fucked up time for Andy to put it midly. But through everything you always stuck by him, no matter what he needed you were there for him; you’d developed a pretty close friendship. and he never forgot what you’d done for him. 

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Defend Myself

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (hockey fan & self-defence teacher)

Summary: During a hockey game, you get into a fight with the drunk man sitting beside you. When Tim Bradford arrives to break up the fight, he decides he'd like to see you again.

Warnings: fight between r and drunk man, unwelcome comments and grabbing (nothing overtly sexual or descriptive), fluff at the end, Tim and Aaron are sarcastic

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: Why I go back and forth between American and British spellings is a mystery.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Alright, ladies,” you call to the self-defence class you’re teaching. “What’s the goal here?”

“Defend ourselves and protect our minds,” they reply.

“Right. Because learning how to fight and keeping yourself physically safe isn’t all that matters. Focusing on what can go wrong in life isn’t any fun, so while we work on self-defence, use it as anger management. Have fun with this!”

Your last class on Friday afternoons is one of your favorites. The women are always excited to learn, they listen well and use good form. Most importantly, they really understand your goal in teaching them. In addition to how great the group before you is, you also get to look forward to hockey after they leave. Whether it’s a game or just to watch practice, you find yourself at the rink most Fridays, and as many other chances as you can get. Hockey and self-defence are two of your favorite things, so afternoons like this are borderline magical.

“Uppercut,” you signal.

As you demonstrate the proper way to move into an uppercut after the warmup, you watch the class.

“Can I ask a question?” a woman in the back row asks between moves.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“Have you ever had to use these moves in real life? Like, to defend yourself?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But that’s why we learn it, right? If we know how we don’t have to live in fear about the when.”

“Which is why we chose the bear,” another girl murmurs.

“Can’t always choose. Preparation is key, and knowing how to react is the most important thing you can learn as a woman.”

“Fighting can be boring though,” someone groans.

“Clearly, you’ve never been to a hockey game. Let’s focus, ladies. Take a breather before we move into strength drills.”

You grab your water bottle from the floor and survey your classroom. Hockey fights are certainly more entertaining than fighting to defend yourself, but you enjoy both.

Los Angeles isn’t necessarily known for its hockey scene, but the arena is packed tonight. Your season pass with the seat on the ice is getting plenty of use this year, and as you sit back to watch warmups, you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.

As the crowd grows and the first period gets nearer, two men take the seats to your right. You nod politely when they greet you, but quickly return your attention to the players preparing to skate out. While the announcer introduces the teams and prepares the fans for a good game, you glance toward the men beside you. The one closest to you seems to already be buzzed, and the oversized cup of beer between his legs doesn’t instill confidence in you. Hopefully, he’ll stay quiet, you think. Cheering for your team is one thing but you know too well how quickly a drunk hockey fan can ruin a night. Anyone who’s been to a hockey game can probably imagine your concern.

You try to ignore him as he gets more talkative, but in the middle of the first period, he drains the remainder of his beer and turns toward you.

“Pretty little thing like you prob’y has some questions,” he says. “I can explain it t’ya.”

“I’m good,” you answer firmly.

“If t’changes,” he slurs as he turns away.

It won’t.

The bell rings and the teams leave the ice as the crowd rises in mass. You stay seated comfortably in your seat as your drunk neighbor leaves with his friend. Since you told him you didn’t need his help, he’s left you alone. As long as that continues, you’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the game, and maybe witness a hat trick from your favourite player.

“Here,” your neighbor says as he returns. “Looked thirsty.”

He shoves a cup of soda toward you, and you push it back. “I don’t want that.”

“Just try’na be nice!”

As he falls back into his seat, you lean toward the side to get some room. His arm moves to the armrest between you as he reaches his fingers toward your leg.

“Don’t touch me,” you tell him as you knock his hand back into his lap.

“Jus’ a pretty lil’ thing,” he murmurs as he leans over the armrest.

“Sir, get him under control,” you say to his friend.

“He’s not my problem,” the other man answers.

“Stop.”

He rolls his eyes as if you’re overreacting and sits back in his seat. Your fists are clenched tightly as you watch him move away from you, and you’re mad that he’s causing you to miss so much of the game and keeping you from enjoying it.

“Los Angeles, make some noise for the third period!” the announcer yells. “We’ve got a tight game and tighter teams. Make it a night to remember, LA.”

“Night to r’mem’ba sounds pre’y good.”

You take a deep breath before you raise your eyes. Somehow, your neighbor got more drunk in the short break between the second and third periods than the rest of the game combined. He reaches toward your arm, and when you pull away, he frowns and steps to stand over you where you sit.

“Leave me alone,” you demand as you stand.

After you put a bit of space between you, you notice that the people sitting behind you are watching you. You don’t care, however, as he throws an empty cup toward you. You move out of the way, and it isn’t until he lunges toward you that you truly react. Your fist makes impact with his jaw before he finishes stepping forward.

“Fight!” someone yells behind you.

You plan to do just that. If he can’t understand no or stop, maybe he’ll understand some of your favourite self-defence moves.

“Reports of assault at Honda Center: fight in progress. Attendees have made numerous reports of disturbance,” dispatch alerts.

“Responding,” Tim replies. “Code 3.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be fights at hockey games?” Aaron asks. “That’s, like, half of the draw.”

“On the ice. Fights off the ice are a regular occurrence,” Tim answers. “Usually drunk rival teams.”

“Easy to break up?”

“Sure. If you think pulling a guy who can’t feel anything off of another guy who doesn’t even remember why he’s trying to kill someone else easy, absolutely.”

“Could’ve just said no,” Aaron mumbles as Tim turns.

“Man, back up!” a security guard demands.

He grabs your attacker’s shoulder and tries to pull him backward, but it doesn’t work. As you prepare to throw another punch, you see that the drunk guy’s eye is black and swelling, his lip is busted, his nose is bleeding, yet he still isn’t quitting.

“Jus’ stop playin’!” the man demands as he grabs for your waist.

You push his wrists away and shove him against the glass dividing you from the ice. He elbows backward, but you block it with your forearm as he yells at you.

“The police are on the way!” someone yells from higher in the seats.

“Get off me!” the man roars as he pushes himself backward.

You manage to catch yourself before he shoves you against the seats. When he raises his hands toward your chest, you raise your right leg into a front kick and momentarily stun him into remaining still.

“Kick his butt, lady!” a man cheers.

“LAPD,” Tim announces as he and Aaron enter the arena. “Where’s the fight?”

“Follow me,” the guard replies.

He leads them into the section where the crowd has gathered to watch the fight. The moment Tim sees the number of people invested in the fight and the suspended timer above the rink, he expects the worst.

“Call for backup, Bradford?” Aaron asks.

“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Tim answers.

“I doubt the guy can go for much longer anyway,” the guard adds. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Tim doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means before he reaches the center of the crowd. He watches you elbow the man under his chin. As Aaron takes a step toward you, Tim extends his arm to stop him. You’re clearly winning, but the guy is too drunk to realize that he can’t keep going. He’ll realize just how badly he lost once the alcohol wears off. A night in lockup would do that nicely, Tim thinks.

The man steps back and prepares to jump at you, but Tim grabs his shoulder from behind and throws him against the glass before he shoves the man to the floor. With his knee pressed into the man’s kidney, Tim secures the handcuffs on his wrists.

“Take him,” Tim tells Aaron.

Aaron nods and yells for the crowd to clear a path. He follows a small group of security guards as he walks back to the shop.

The crowd around you begins to spread out the moment your attacker is ripped away from you. You take a deep breath and nod at the officer who helped you.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile. “Little tired. Thanks for the assist, Officer Bradford.”

Tim watches your eyes rise back to his face after reading his name tag. He smiles at you just before the buzzer over your head rings as the game resumes.

“You wanna stay?” he asks over the sound of skates and cheers.

You shake your head and follow him to the staircase. Once you’re in the main area of Honda Center and the noise of the game is muffled, Tim turns toward you.

“That was impressive,” he applauds. “I’ve been called to more fights than I can count. Never seen one under control like you had it. You, uh, you clearly won.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to commend me for getting into a fight, officer,” you tease.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks.

“I teach a self-defence class for women,” you explain. “Been fighting for a while but honed my skills for safety more than entertainment.”

“Then they were wrong.” At your confused look, Tim clarifies, “911 dispatcher said there was a fight. You were just defending yourself.”

“He was drunk and didn’t understand when I told him to stop.”

“Which I am allowed to commend you for.”

You smile at Tim again, and he decides that he needs to see you again. More than being impressed by the thorough beating you delivered to the man who was harassing you and trying to touch you, Tim finds you incredibly beautiful, and he knows you’re talented and care about others. He doesn’t want this to be a one-time encounter.

“Have you ever considered hosting a class for the police department?” he asks, looking for a way to ensure he can talk to you again soon. “We bring in instructors from the city occasionally to host free classes. You’d receive compensation, of course.”

“I haven’t, but it does sound nice. If more women knew how to defend themselves, it might make your job easier.”

Tim agrees as he hands you his card. “Call the station in the morning and we can work something out. If you need a teacher’s assistant or anything, I’d be happy to help, too.”

You tap his card against your thigh as you say, “I’d like that.”

“Bradford!” his partner, Thorsen – you feel like you should recognize the name but don’t – calls. “We got another call.”

“Sorry,” Tim tells you. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the station soon.”

“I think you will.” When you smile at him this time, Tim feels like you punched him, too.

“Adultère”

Adultère: French for Adultery. 

pairing: Andy Barber x WOC!fem!Reader

Warnings: CHRISTMAS, emily trying to be a good fanfic writer and pretending she knows shit about male underwear, cheating, insecurities but y/n is THAT bitch though, swearing, smut: degradation, andy puts the pussy on a pedestal (as he should), unprotected sex: P in V (zon’t do it. zon’t do it….), light daddy kink + subspace, use of the word “cunt” ihkzlkadj, cheesy happy ending 

A/N: THIS IS FOR MY MAIN GIRLY JASMEEN ILY JAS THEE STALLION CAUSE ITS HER BDAY AND IT MOTIVATED ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR ONCE!! ❤️💞🥺 @cloudystevie

For Siri’s  @stargazingfangirl18‘s Happy Hoelidays Challenge! 

Prompt: Character A is having a sad, lonely holiday when Character B unexpectedly shows up to spend it with them

Since i’m a lazy, incompetant person, this is also for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge! Love u Siri, hope you’ll like this

chile not me giving y’all the bare minimum every two months. listen to Lana Del Rey and wake up your sugar baby instincts for maximum experience. Also, i didnt watch defending jacob cause as much as I love chris and shows in general i’m poor and lazy… And i wrote about boston. LAST TIME. my ny ass had a hard time rbhnkjdik // Also, i’m not that good with christmas stuff like.. I really don’t care that much about the christmas spirit and i’m so sorry cause IK you can feel it throughout the whole fic.

Word count: 4.6k+ 

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

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

╰┈➤ requested!

pairings(s)- stiles stilinski x reader

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

category- fluff

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

word count: 2670

masterlist; teen wolf masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yup” you say happily, popping the p

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing || andy barber x fem!reader

word count || 3,865

summary || you and andy have been sneaking around for months and soon it might catch up to you two

warnings || drinking, throwing up, oral, reader has twins, andy cheating on laurie, oral receiving, oral giving, couch sex, making dinner, eating dinner, over the counter sex, taking care of teenagers, andy buying you stuff, beach house, beach house sex, name calling, breeding, ass fingering, pussy fingering

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

𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑

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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.

Pull This Move

0.8k+ words of chaotic Tim Bradford fluff

A/N: Have you guys seen the "when he's copying your snaps so you pull this move" thing? I saw a drawing of it with the Batboys and then this happened.

“Tim never keeps his ringer on,” Lucy muses after your phone buzzes again. “Is that a cop-to-cop thing?”

“Yeah, some people have problems with it, others don’t mind,” you explain. “I usually have mine silenced, I just forgot.”

“Do you know why Tim is off today?”

“Just needed a break,” you explain. “Have to have to a balance in a job like this.”

“And Snapchat gives you that balance?” Lucy teases as your phone chimes with an incoming photo. 

“If it’s from who I think it is, maybe,” you answer cryptically. 

“Who do you think it is?!” she inquires loudly. 

“Hold that thought, we’ve got a reckless driver ahead.”

During your lunch break, you open the new Snapchat and roll your eyes. 

“So,” Lucy says as she sits beside you. “Who is it? New boyfriend? Potential boyfriend?”

“Let’s go with really good friend,” you reply. “Who doesn’t know how to use the app and just copies my snaps.”

“Cute!!”

You hum, then think of the snap you wish to get. So, you open the app and move the phone to one side to capture your flexed bicep. Lucy gasps as you lock the screen, and you furrow your brows at her. 

“What?” you ask. 

“It is a guy! Why else would you flex to have them copy it? Tell me everything!”

“New rule, when I’m substituting as your TO, you have to talk to me like Tim.”

Lucy sighs and raises her hands in surrender when your phone chimes again. Yet, after you unlock it, she snatches your phone out of your hand. 

“Lucy!” you yell as she stands. “No, stop- listen. I will blue page you, Chen!”

Lucy freezes. Half-standing with your arm extended over the table, you exhale. 

“Give it back and I’ll- I’ll let you see the picture. That’s it, and you have to learn to respect boundaries.”

“Will you tell Tim?” she asks, blocking your phone with her free hand. 

“Not if you listen.”

Lucy nods and passes your phone back with a quiet apology. You sit, and Lucy pulls her chair beside yours. You click the red square in the app and lift a brow appreciatively at the muscled arm on the screen. There is a familiar gray shirt stretched tightly around the flexed bicep, and you hold the screen for several seconds to prolong your enjoyment of the picture. 

“There,” you say, shifting your hips to slide your phone into your pocket. “Happy, Chen?”

Lucy doesn’t answer, and you turn toward her. Her jaw drops as she stares at you. 

“What?”

“Was that Tim?” she asks. 

“Why would you think that?” you say rather than answering. 

“He wears a lot of gray shirts, and you… I don’t know how to say this without getting in trouble again.”

You cross your arms below your powered-off body cam and lean back in your seat. “Speak freely, Lucy.”

“Everyone knows you have a crush on him,” she blurts out. 

“So, a gray shirt and a workplace crush lead you to believe that Tim - officer stoic and serious - would send me a Snapchat?” you challenge. 

“Well when you put it like that,” Lucy mumbles, “it sounds ridiculous.”

“I’ll give you something if you give me something,” you offer. “I need some dirt on Lopez. Help me get that, and I’ll tell you something.”

“Done,” Lucy agrees. Then, she asks, “Wait, why? What’d she do?”

“No questions. Agree or don’t,” you reply. Lucy nods, and you say, “I’m going on a date with the guy in the picture tonight. We’ve been dating for a while.”

“Will you tell me more later? If things work out and I get something on Angela?”

You stand to return to the shop and say, “We’ll see.”

Walking into your house after your shift ends, you sigh. 

“Did you actually help my boot today or just send Snapchats?” someone asks from the kitchen.

Laughing, you enter the room and lean your forehead between your boyfriend’s shoulder blades. 

“Lucy saw the picture,” you say. “It was a really good picture, though.”

“How?” he asks, holding your arm as he turns toward you. 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t tell her much, and she’s helping with our Angela problem.”

“Your Angela problem,” Tim corrects. 

“Which will become our Angela problem when she finds out that my fiancé and my least favorite sergeant are the same man,” you point out. 

“Shouldn’t have told her you were engaged.”

“I didn’t!” 

Tim chuckles, so you sigh and fall against his chest. 

“It’ll be fine,” he assures you. 

“As long as you keep showing those Bradford biceps,” you grumble against his chest. 

“Hey,” Tim begins carefully. 

You pull back and narrow your eyes at him. 

“If Angela already has an idea, and Wade knows… maybe we should ask them to help,” he suggests. 

“You want Wade and Angela to be our witnesses?” you clarify. After a moment, you concede, “It could work. She’d keep it a secret if we let her come to the wedding.”

“Not what most people think about when they’re wedding planning.”

You smile and kiss Tim, thankful that your relationship is anything but average. Most people don’t have Tim Bradford going down the aisle with them, you think.

Still Find You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You're abducted from your coffee shop and Tim has to trust his instincts to find you before it's too late.

Warnings: abduction, torture (not graphic), violence and threats of violence, angst, mention of drug distribution and overdose, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: I ended this with lines from Still Find You by Granger Smith because it fit (and I have no control when I write).

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Soft jazz fills the coffee shop as you lock the door one minute after closing. You wave at the young woman walking down the sidewalk who just left after finishing her thesis in your shop.

She brought you a small gift with a note and said, “I couldn’t have finished this without you and your café.”

You haven’t opened the gift yet, but you smile because you made a difference in someone’s life. Your coffee shop resulted from chasing your dreams and hard work, and you want people to feel both comfortable and inspired when they come in. Today, you accomplished that.

After you turn off the lights in the front seating area, you pull your phone from your apron pocket and change the music playing through the speakers behind the counter to something more upbeat. You sing along with the first song as you wipe down the counter and dismantle the coffee machines to make tomorrow easier.

A loud sound makes you flinch as you prepare to enter the walk-in freezer. Turning quickly, you expect to see someone knocking on the door or a bird flying away from the glass. But there’s nothing to see. Shaking your head, you continue your nightly closing checklist and think about what you should make for dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, your shop is clean and prepped for the morning, and your apron hangs on its dedicated hook. You pull your bag over your shoulder, slide your phone into your pocket, and open the back door.

Before you step out into the small parking area you share with a few nearby business owners, a hand wraps cruelly around your upper arm. Whoever it is pulls you harshly away from your car and slams you against the brick wall behind you.

“Here,” you say, offering your bag. “That’s all I have.”

You glance up and see that it’s undoubtedly a man, large, tall, and terrifying. He’s wearing a mask, but you can hear his deep and rough voice clearly when he chuckles. He knocks your arms down, and your bag falls to the cement with a thud. The man says your full name, and you can’t stop from flinching away from him.

“That was easy,” he murmurs. “Where’s the bag?”

You shake your head, afraid but honest.

“Where is the bag?” he repeats, slow and low as he steps closer to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply.

“That’s a shame.”

He raises his right hand and signals to someone or something. You take the opportunity while he’s distracted to slip your phone from your pocket. Holding it behind your back, you take a screenshot, hoping to capture the time. You then attempt to unlock it without looking and navigate to what you hope is the camera. Tilting the phone in several directions, you tap the screen and don’t think about what will happen if you’re not getting information to pass along to the police.

A blue van approaches quickly and then stops behind your car. The man wraps his hand around your arm again, and you drop your phone to bring your other hand up to fight. You know how to defend yourself, but he’s bigger than you, you were ambushed, and you’re outnumbered. He directs you past your car, and you drop the one belonging you don’t want to lose onto the hood. As you’re pushed into the backseat and thrown back against the seat when the van begins moving again, you hope that someone finds your phone and does the right thing. If you took any pictures, they might save your life.

Tim stretches his neck to the side after he parks in his driveway. He looks around while he turns the ignition off and frowns. Pulling his phone from the center console, he presses your contact. It goes to voicemail, and he has no missed calls or messages to explain your absence. You’ve been off work for nearly an hour, and even if you stayed to clean up – because you’re too nice to your employees and let them leave early, he thinks – you should still be here by now.

Tim opens his tracking app and sees that the blue dot showing your phone’s location is steady at your shop. He tenses his jaw and restarts his truck. As he pulls back onto the road, he calls your shop, but it just rings and rings. Tim clenches his jaw, throws his phone into the passenger seat, and speeds up. He thinks something is wrong, and if it’s not, he’s going to start an argument because you know better than to worry him like this or forget your phone. You know better. And that’s why Tim reaches for his phone to call dispatch and find out if you called 911 for any reason.

Tim leaves his truck running after he parks, blocking your car in. You’re not in the car, and the lights are off in your coffee shop. He walks to the back door, ready to pound on it and hope you open it. He stops on the sidewalk when he sees something out of place. Your phone case is something he’s familiar with, and he lowers to reach for it. There’s a new crack down the middle of the screen, and the edge of your case has been scuffed. This wasn’t simply dropped.

Tim holds your phone in his left hand as he calls Angela. He gives her the facts of what he knows, letting her come to her own conclusions. She says she and Nyla will be at your shop right away, and Tim stands in place after the call disconnects. As he looks around, he doesn’t see anything else worth noting.

He leans against the brick wall, keenly aware of every breeze which moves around him. He unlocks your phone and opens the messages. No half-typed or emergency notes. No phone calls or a dialed number. Whatever happened, you didn’t have time to react in a typical way. Tim returns to the home screen and then taps the photos app. You took a picture of Kojo laying on Tim yesterday, but nearly a dozen new photos are displayed beneath it. Not the kind of photos you would take, Tim realizes as he stands straighter.

There’s a screenshot of your lock screen taken 45 minutes ago, a blurry image of the back of your legs and a pair of boots in front of you, a seconds-long video that Tim can’t bring himself to play yet, and a picture of a gloved hand wrapped around your arm. Tim locks your phone again and exhales deeply, attempting to remain calm. Based on those images, he’s convinced that his worst fear is coming true. You’ve been abducted. He sees Angela’s unmarked car pull in and steps off the sidewalk to meet her and walk her through his movements. As he passes your car, something glints in the light, and he steps back.

“Tim,” Angela says as she exits her car after parking behind Tim’s truck. “Tell me everything.”

Tim doesn’t reply as he lifts something off your car. Your engagement ring wouldn’t just fall off; you left it.

“Tim,” Angela repeats when she sees the ring and your phone. “What happened?”

Tim clears his throat before explaining that you weren’t home, so he called and came here. He passes her your unlocked phone and mentions that he couldn’t watch the video. And the ring.

“What’s her name?” Nyla asks.

Tim answers, realizing that Nyla probably doesn’t know who you are. “My wife.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at Angela. They meet at the back of your car to watch the video, and Tim stares at your ring lying on his palm instead of around your finger.

“We need to find her,” he says, looking up. “Now.”

“Tim, I know you’re worried,” Nyla begins.

“Of course I am,” he replies. “But I’m also angry, and you can use that.”

“We’re not going to ask you to sit this out,” Angela assures him. “She’s smart, and if anyone can pick up the clues she’ll leave, it’s you.”

“I know it’s probably a stupid question, but any idea who would do this?” Nyla asks.

“She doesn’t have any enemies,” Tim answers. “But this wasn’t random.”

“No,” Angela agrees. “She got the vehicle on camera. Unfortunately, we can only make out that it’s a blue minivan.”

“Easy to find in LA,” Tim grumbles.

“Right. I’ll get the phone to cyber, see what they can find.”

Tim walks down the length of your car and looks to his right. “If they went east, I know where she’d try to leave the next clue.”

Nyla takes your phone and gets in Angela’s car to return to the station while Angela climbs into Tim’s passenger seat.

“Are you prepared to deal with this if she didn’t leave any more clues?” she asks softly.

“I’m ready to finish this,” Tim answers. “Whatever it takes.”

Angela nods as he turns out of the parking lot and heads east. They both know that targeted abductions rarely end well, but neither of them says it aloud. You’re smart, but that doesn’t make you infallible. Or indestructible.

You cough before you spit blood from your mouth. Everything hurts, and you have no idea where you are. After you managed to leave Tim another clue in a place he’d think to go – if he’s realized that he needs to look yet – the men who took you decided it would be better for you to not know where you were going. They blindfolded you, covered your mouth, and drove in silence. You tried to keep track of the turns and the time, but they kept you from doing that. The larger man, the one who pinned you to the wall, moved you into the floor of the van and held something that felt suspiciously like a gun against your sternum. It moved every time the driver turned, and you were too distracted to notice which way your body rolled.

“I don’t…” you pant, “know what bag.”

He swings his fist in an arch, holding your shoulder as he punches beneath your diaphragm. Your breath leaves in a painful rush, and you drop to the wooden floor beneath you when he removes his hands from you.

“We’ve got all night,” he says. “You don’t. Start talking, and no more of the don’t know act.”

“Whatever you’re looking for, I am not the person you need to find it.”

“No,” he agrees, bending at his waist to look into your eyes. “You’re the next best thing.”

You take the opportunity to spit into his exposed eyes, and he stumbles back as he wipes at his face. Smiling, you ignore the pain for a moment.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you taunt.

“I don’t have to,” he replies. “I just have to wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

He leaves you alone in the dilapidated bedroom, and you wrap your arms around your stomach and push yourself to stand. The window is barred and it’s dark out, but you can see plenty of lights beneath you. You’re somewhere in the hills, but you might be here forever without a way to get that information to Tim.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the other man says, kicking the door closed behind him.

A rope rests over his shoulder, and he cracks his knuckles as he stalks toward you like a predator. He’s been quiet until now, just the driver, but as he nears you, you begin to think he’s the one you should have been scared of all along.

“Getting anything?” Wade asks, entering the observation area.

“No,” Tim answers.

“She left you clues,” Wade points out. “We’ll find her.”

“There’s not enough to go on!” Tim exclaims, letting his emotions come out in front of someone he trusts. “Her ring and a bracelet left in a restaurant parking lot isn’t going to save her life.”

“Then keep looking,” Wade encourages. “Bradford, you and I both know a trail doesn’t go cold this quick. Something will come up.”

“She said something about a bag,” the man sitting across the table from Angela says. “Then the big guy led her back to the van.”

“A bag?” Angela repeats. “Do you remember what exactly she said?”

“Something about not having the bag, and not knowing where it went.”

“That mean anything to you?” Wade asks.

Tim wracks his brain, thinking of every bag he’s seen, confiscated, or searched over the past weeks. He shakes his head and then remembers something. Not a bag, but a man looking for a bag.

“Aaron stopped a car on Pico,” he tells Wade. “There was a backpack sitting on the top of it. Aaron offered it to the guy, and he refused to take it; insisted it wasn’t his.”

“Right,” Wade agrees, snapping as the memory resurfaces. “It was searched when he brought it in. There was drug residue all over it – all over it. Not enough to charge someone probably, but it could’ve been indicative of possession with intent.”

“I didn’t think about then,” Tim mumbles.

“Think about what?” Angela inquires as she returns. “He didn’t know much, but he did call 911 because he thought the woman was in trouble. Dispatch rerouted him to the Sheriff’s department and they can’t even take themselves seriously, so it’s still showing as active and waiting for response.”

“The same morning Aaron found that bag, Chen and I were trailing one of Metro’s CIs to a meeting and there was a guy looking frantically in a parking lot,” Tim explains. “A parking lot just off Pico. He was looking on top of cars and crawling around on the ground. Chen asked him if he needed help, and he said he was looking for his cat.”

“Get a name? Description?”

“Name, no, but Chen had her body cam on.”

Wade leads them to his office and finds the footage from the encounter. The man captured was large, had a scar across his chin, and looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about a cat.

“Rick Wendell,” Angela says. She shows his most recent mugshot – when he first got the scar on his chin – and swipes through his record. “He’s got two houses. One of them is in the hills.”

“How’d a career criminal afford that?” Wade wonders.

“Bought it in a foreclosure for less than 300 thousand,” she reads. “It’s secluded, falling apart, but he’s up to date on the payments.”

“Good place to take someone if you want privacy.”

“I found out guy,” Nyla announces, rushing into the office.

“So did we,” Angela says, showing her the mugshot.

Nyla’s brows pinch before she replies, “He wasn’t the driver.”

“We have reason to believe they’re at Wendell’s house,” Tim interjected. “What’s the driver have to do with it?”

Nyla shows another mugshot, and Tim feels like he’ll never breathe again.

“Ankou,” Tim says.

“AKA Peter Newman, his given name,” Nyla adds. “Wanted by every three-letter agency and just about everyone on Interpol’s roster.”

“What’s he got against you, Bradford?” Wade inquires.

“I got him extradited on a drug charge. He watched two young girls OD on over-potent heroin, but possession was all I could get him on. While he was overseas, we raided every drug stash we could find. He got out of prison after a few months and came back to nothing but more warrants.”

“Did you happen to take a bag?” Angela asks.

“All but one,” he says. “We could never find the rest of his signature heroin.”

“Which is likely what Aaron stumbled on,” Nyla deduces. “And he’s targeting you rather than Aaron because it’s your fault he had to move what was left.”

“And now he’s trying to get information from my wife,” Tim snaps. “So why are we still standing here?”

“Because we can’t waltz into his house without a plan,” Angela replies. “I have to ask… Does she know about Ankou, or the drugs?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even a mention?” Nyla asks.

“She doesn’t know,” Tim insists roughly. “I keep her away from this. Look where it got her.”

“I hate to bring this up,” Wade begins. “But the bag has been missing for nearly a week. Why now?”

“He’s got a meet,” Angela realizes.

“And if he doesn’t have the drugs, he’ll offer something else,” Tim says. “Or someone.”

“Tim,” Wade says. When he finally has his attention, he asks, “What do we do?”

“You’re not going to agree with what my instincts are telling me to do.”

“If it were Luna, I’d do whatever I had to. You wife trusts you, now trust yourself. Walk us through it.”

Tim glances at the map on Angela’s phone. “He won’t expect us to come down the hill.”

The sun rises over LA, sending scattered light through the dirty window behind you. Your chest rises and falls slowly, every breath painful and shallow. Everything hurts, but you hold the splintered floorboard you pried up between your bloody hands, ready to fight when one of your abductors returns.

A hinge squeals downstairs, and you grip the wood tighter. You can’t hear footsteps, but you know someone is coming. When a gunshot echoes through the house, you push yourself against the wall and wait, letting your eyes close as you listen.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to fire when Wendell comes toward him with a sawed-off shotgun. He keeps his gun up as he walks to Wendell’s side and squats. Wendell doesn’t have a pulse, but Tim notices there is plenty of blood on him. His gloves are worn and stained, and some of the blood coating the outside of the fabric is fresh.

“She’s here,” Tim whispers over his shoulder.

Nyla taps Tim’s shoulder as she and Wade go left. Tim and Angela go right and soon come to a narrow staircase.

Ankou – the henchman of death – is in the house, and Tim must find him before he returns to you. Ankou is an omen of death and, in France, he is death personified as a skeleton with a scythe. This Ankou, however, is just a criminal who got away with too much and got too cocky about it.

Tim has taken down his fair share of monsters and a faux Grim Reaper doesn’t scare him. Especially when Peter Newman is holding his wife hostage.

Stepping over a loose step, Tim nears the top of the staircase. Three closed doors and a dead-end hall greet him. One of the doors has runes drawn on it, and Tim’s instincts tell him it’s a trap.

Angela gestures toward it, and Tim shakes his head. He walks to the door farthest from the steps and lays his hand on the doorknob. Angela covers him as he pushes it open, and Tim doesn’t take a step in before he wraps his hand around someone’s neck and flips them onto the floor.

You drop the broken weapon and let your tears fall as Tim walks into the bedroom, holstering his gun as he nears you. Angela handcuffs your attacker, groaning on the floor after Tim took him down.

“I got you,” Tim murmurs, visually inspecting every mark on you.

“How-” You hiccup as you reach for him, but once your hand is in his, you ask, “How did you find me?”

“I trusted my instincts,” he answers softly.

You nod, leaning toward him. Tim cups your chin in his other hand as you reply, “Thank God you have good instincts.”

“You left me clues,” he points out.

“Not enough.”

Tim shakes his head, then lifts you carefully into his arms to get you out of the house. The ambulance is waiting outside when he carries you out into the sunlight, and you cling to him as he lowers you onto the gurney.

“You must have really good instincts,” you say.

Tim takes your hand, his jaw tightening when he sees the blood and dirt surrounding your nails. You fought, and you endured torture and pain, yet you’re thanking Tim for coming as if he rescued you.

“About one thing, at least,” he replies as he climbs into the ambulance beside you.

“You look so good!” Angela exclaims, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you enter Tim’s house.

“Thank you,” you reply, laughing. “I think the bandages and the stitches bring out my eyes.”

“If you ever decide to switch careers, the LAPD could use another strong woman,” Nyla adds.

“Absolutely not,” Tim and Wade answer together.

Your brows lift as you look at Wade, and he explains, “I’m not dealing with Bradford like that ever again. Stay safe, all right? That’s an order.”

“Thank you for everything,” you tell them. “When I’m actually looking and feeling good again, you’re all invited to dinner.”

“We’ll be here,” Angela promises. “Call us if you need anything. There’s food in the fridge, more in the freezer, and more gift cards and baskets than I can count all over your dining room.”

You nod, give her and Nyla a hug, and then wave as they leave. Wade is the last to go, giving you another hug and promising to check in often. Once you’re alone, you turn to Tim.

“Did you find a gift bag in the stuff I dropped outside the coffee shop?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s on the bed,” he answers. “Do you want it now?”

“It can wait,” you reply. “It’s special, so I wanted to make sure it was okay.”

“Not the only special thing that needs to be okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m okay,” you promise, taking Tim’s hand. “Because you found me. And you’ll find me every time.”

Tim nods, running his finger over the silicone wedding ring on your swollen finger. His instincts are good; that’s why he’s such a good cop, but when it comes to you, his instincts are even better. You could be a raindrop in a desert or a snowflake in a blizzard, and Tim Bradford would still find you.

daddy's sweetest cherry

-> pairing: andy barber x fem!reader

-> warnings: smut, oral {m receiving}, kissing, age gap relationship, daddy kink, infidelity, laurie, dry humping, obscene language.

-> summary: andy barber has the sweetest assistant any district attorney could ask for.

a/n: heyo hope everyone is well! do enjoy this one shot i whipped up during the weekend. reblogs are appreciated so is feedback :)

- one shot {18+}

"who the fuck is that?!" laurie yells at the top of her lungs, eyes blown wide at the nude young female photo on her son's phone. she was once again prying, secretly going through jacob's phone while he was in the shower. she storms into her master bedroom, where she finds andy perched on their bed comfortably, reading a book. "why does my son have a picture of a naked girl on his phone? he's only sixteen andy." laurie fumes at her husband, as if he had control over their son's privacy.

andy looks at the picture for a moment, then looks at his wife with disbelief in his eyes. "first of all why are you snooping through his phone? it's his privacy, you can't invade that laurie. he'll never trust you again." andy grumbles, switching off the phone as laurie goes to grab it. his words obviously shock his wife, as she is use to people going along to everything she said and not questioning her twice about it.

"are you being for real right now? he's a teenage boy! of course i have to look through his phone to make sure he isn't watching stupid shit like this andy!" she defends, folding her arms over her chest. if there was one thing laurie despised, it was being wrong or being the smaller person.

andy huffs and closes his book, not in the mood to read anymore. "okay laurie, what do you want me to do ground him? stop him from attending his summer road trip with arvin? hm, you tell me." he asks, standing on his feet and draping a shirt over his bare chest. laurie really knew how to aggravate him easily.

"i- i don't know andy! something, just talk to him or discipline him." she rolled her eyes, just as irritated.

andy shakes his head, leaving the room with his son's phone in hand. he can hear his wife's silent profanities echo down the hall as he reaches the guest room, he looks back before closing the door. andy opens the phone quickly and enters the pin used to lock his son's photo album, the one that stored a familiar face that andy couldn't quite figure out to be. with a tap, the photo of the bare chested female appeared on the screen, and andy's face pales.

a simple star tattoo is inked on the females soft skin, right below the collarbone. one andy knew too well, as he spent most of his office time, marking and bruising the flesh with his lips. "for fuck sakes," he groans, adjusting the tightness forming in his nether region. andy bites his lip, longingly staring at the photo and the half faced female showed on the screen in awe. he couldn't wait for work mondy morning.

later that evening, andy handled his personal issue quickly, with the help of the picture and similar videos he had stored on his own device of the young woman. he tried not to confront his son about the nude picture, but laurie pushed, daring to take the situation into her own hands but andy knew nothing good would come from that.

"jacob may i speak with you for a moment." andy calls, ignoring his wife's presence in the living area as he guides his son to the back porch. "i'll make this quick, and never hope i have to deal with this ever again," andy starts, placing jacob's phone in his hand.

"dad- i can explain! my friend told me about the site. i swear i didn't look at anything else except her picture. please don't hate me or tell mom." the sixteen year old rushes out in fear. his sweaty palms allowing the phone to slip out of his hands.

"jacob, son, calm down. i'm not mad, why would i be? you're a teenage boy, i know boy's your age go through a certain stage at some point. but you have to be more cautious and not force me into awkward situations like this." andy laughs, attempting to soothe the prominent nerves of his son.

"so...you're not going to ground me?" jacob asks, seemingly regaining a casual composure after andy's words.

"well i do have to confiscate your phone for a day or two, even though i'm understanding about this your actions still come with consequences." andy says.

"can i delete the picture before you do, i can't have mom seeing this." jacob immediately sends the photo to the thrash, also removing the site off his search history while at it. "thanks dad, i know better now." the teenager mumbles, giving andy the phone.

"don't get all joyous now, your mom knows but you don't need to worry...well i hope." andy jokes, patting jacob's back reassuringly as he begins to freak out. "as i said don't worry, we've talked and you understand what is to be done. but to be safe just apologize." he advises, kissing the boy's head and leaving the room.

"ouch andy my foot!" laurie yelps, almost falling on the floor as her enitre weight was pressed on the door.

"that's what you get for snooping again," andy rolls his eyes, and goes straight into the kitchen to start dinner.

-

after dinner, the barber residence was pitch black, andy uses the opportunity to surf through the site where the picture of his mistress reside. it was itching at him since laurie shoved the phone in his face, allowing him to analyze the photo well enough to discover the bare chested female to be the other woman in his life. the one who he held much love for, the freshly graduated woman who brought light into his world as soon as she waltzed through his office doors, pleading him for the job as his assistant.

that day, during the first hour, andy got to know her, he found himself drawn and enticed by her every movement. the way she talked, her walk and her ability to keep him in line better than his own wife. andy was wrapped around her finger since the first day and continued to be one year later. it took andy a month to finally break, he was unable to keep himself away from her, tired of having to refrain himself of sliding his hand up her thigh beneath the tiny, work skirts she wore.

and one beautiful Thursday afternoon, andy took her on his desk. all the barriers he built to stay away from her and not corrupt a sweet little girl was thrown out the window. that day, he took her three times, ate the living life out of her a total of two then finished by coming on her supple behind and kissing her blissful tears away as she sat on his warm cock. andy would recall this memory over and over again anytime he was down or irritated with laurie.

andy knew he should be feeling guilt, never had he expected to betray his vows and fall intensely in love with a woman who was at least twenty years younger than him. yet, everytime he fucked her, made love to her, purchase gifts and skipped nights out with wife to be with his other lover, he didn't experience an ounce of regret.

so as andy continued his search, he typed in the username he figured to be hers, lusciouscherry1. the user brought a smile to his face, as he knew she adored cherries very much, craved the fruit daily. and andy, the ever so caring boyfriend always bought a basket of fresh cherries and a flower every monday and thursday morning to please his sweet girl.

when her page came in view, andy felt blood rush to his cock, the gritty, huge length twitching in his pajama pants as her nude pictures came to view. "fuck," the lawyer breathes out, his lungs suddenly collapsing as he scrolled through her pictures. there was a total of three photos, the first was her in a blue lingerie piece, modeling her behind where a cute little marked hand print lied. the second was more revealing, showing of her tits and stopping at the top of her abused clit. how cute, thought andy. the third is the photo of her bare chest and collarbone, the one which led him to discover his sweet girl's secret profile.

andy was impressed, her body was divine, one of a kind. he adored it and by the looks of the site, the viewers seemed to enjoy it just as much, all of her photos contained a balance of $1000, so fortunate. but andy couldn't help but feel a wave of jealousy sink in him, the comments were not on the innocent side, containing filthy language he would use whenever she begged him to fuck her roughly. break me daddy, fuck me like your own personal doll. i know you want to, she had whispered the dirty words into his ear after he had complained about laurie, something to do with the fact that he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. if only she knew his attention was focused mainly on his sweet assistant, y/n l/n.

"hey dad, what are you doing up so late?" a voice came from the staircase, where jacob stands with a hand over his mouth to muffle his yawn.

"i should be asking you that question son," andy lightly chuckles, book marking the site before he shuts down the computer. he couldn't wait for tomorrow, a bright new work day, to go through critical cases and spend his day making puppy eyes at his wonderful assistant. "go back to sleep it'll be five soon." as andy goes to his room, he refrains from grumbling out loud at the sight of laurie on the bed, taking up all his space. andy slept soundly that night, recalling his cherishable moments spent with you as his vision went dark.

-

"good morning mr. barber," y/n walks in, her hair tied in a low bun and andy's favorite latte in hand. she grins at the sight of her boss patting his lap, beckoning her. before she takes her place, she pulls the blinds of his office, covering them from the staff's view. "i got you this, seeing as you sent my gift earlier than usual." she smiles, kissing andy's cheek several times. "are you wearing the new tie i got you?" she squeals, straightening his tie and matching dress shirt. "it looks so good on you."

"my girl has great taste," andy winks, sipping on his coffee and massaging the skin of her thighs. their were absurdly smooth and soft, andy would trade his feathered pillows for her thighs any day to lay on. "did you get my note, i left it in between the cherries," he inquires, moving his hand to the open space of y/n's blouse to kiss the mini tattoo inked on her skin.

"yes, you are one bold man mr. barber, you have to give me the live action experience of the entire letter. you got me so worked up, i think i ruined my favorite thong by reading the first sentence." y/n says, pulling on the hair on the nape of andy's neck as his lips suckle on her collarbone, slowly moving down to the valley of her breasts. "fuck," she groans, gyrating her hips in a circular motion. a shrill escapes her as the buttons of her blouse open out, revealing the lace bra she wore. andy doesn't waste time, groping her boobs and licking her peebled nipples over the fabric. "more please daddy."

"don't pout little one, daddy will give you all the attention you need." andy coos, kissing her lips then the middle of her breasts. he removes the sheer garment and the sudden coolness of the air makes her shiver. andy gladly takes her into his mouth, nipping and suckling the boob as his hands play with her free one. "so pretty baby," he praises, switching to the other to show the same love. andy is alternating his movements on each boob, grinning up at y/n as she dry humps the thick area of his suite pants. "just like that, baby." andy moans, holding her hips steady as he dips his head back in pleasure.

"daddy- i'm going to come!" y/n wails, grinding down on him faster, her skirt hikes up her leg and the sheer thong she wears slightly obscures her wet pussy from messing his pants. she moans out loud as she comes undone, her hands finding their way to andy's tie to yank his lips against her smudged one. "oh my gosh, i ruined your pants," y/n realizes during her high. she stands quickly, rushing to his near drawer to clean the white juices. "i'm so sorry! i'll go get a new set now," she apologizes, she truly felt sorry.

andy laughs, wrapping his hand through her hair as she bends on her knees, attempting to get rid of the stain. "you're acting as if it's a bad thing, sweet girl. God knows how many times i've send you from my office with my come messed on your skirt or legs." he winks, pushing his hips forward as she places her hands on his thighs. andy knows exactly what she wants, he carved the same thing. however, he always preferred when she asked in that innocent tone, even though her eyes held her true intentions. "ask me kindly little girl, and daddy might award you with a morning snack." andy smirks, rubbing his hand over his cock then grasping her hand in his.

y/n nods, giving him that smile while looking up at him with doe like eyes through her lashes. she watches as andy breath hitches, running his wet tongue over his lips. "can i please have your cock daddy? i was desperate for it all weekend." y/n pouts, popping his index finger into her mouth as he brushes it against her lips. a satisfied hum is sounded from her and andy comes in his pants. "oh daddy, looks like we both ruined your costly trousers." she giggles, suckling on his fingers as if it was his cock.

"funny little thing aren't you hm? how about you put that mouth to better use now." andy gruffs, slipping his finger out of her mouth, causing her to whine. he groans as he fists his length, the sensitive tip bold red as white semen slides down his gritty cock. andy grips her hair tightly, pulling her close so her cheek is pressed against his cock, coating her tear stained cheek with his come. "such a good girl for me." andy praises, smiling down at her. the sight has him hardening once again, she never failed to gift him the painfully, straining tent in his pants. it was impossible for her not to have him hard every time she waltzes into a room to his dismay sometimes. "open up, beautiful."

y/n does as she is told instantly, parting her lips wide and sticking her tongue out of her mouth to collect andy's come which dribbled down to her chin. she watches his length fondly, desperate to have him in her mouth, she hums appreciatively as andy presses his red tip over her lips before he pushes into her mouth. "fawk!" y/n moans, the word mispronounced due to the long cock filling her mouth. she begins suckling him, kitten licking his tip then sliding her tongue down the thick veins visual on his cock. with that, she goes straight in, taking him fully into her mouth and hollowing her cheeks as she gags. the sound of andy's moans are clear and pornographic as she deep throats him and pulls away with a loud pop, spit and drool coating them both. "do you like that daddy?" she smirks, greedily fitting her lips around him again and suckling hard, her head bobbing and breasts bouncing as she does.

"fuck- you're going to make me come sweets!" andy gasps, roughly pulling on her head of hair with his large hand. a pleasant mewl erupts from him as y/n fiddle with his balls, one of his sexual foiblities she came across when she first had him in her mouth. andy begins to thrust his hips, the grip he holds her hair tightening as her tongue wanders down to his testicle then up his shaft where her hand continues working. "look at me when i come in your mouth, baby." he wolfishly smiles, his hand locks on her jaw so that her eyes are focused on him. andy's goes into a daze as she deeps throat him once more and effectively shakes her head side to side as his emission spurts into her mouth.

"that's it, take it like a good cock hungry slut." andy grins, fucking her mouth slightly before pulling away. "open up for me." he demands, slapping y/n's cheek with his cock. with parted lips and tongue stuck out, his come paints the inside of her mouth, her tongue muscle lapping at his tip. "fuck, i love when you take all of me like a good girl. you're my good girl right sweets?" he praises, letting go of his cock to hold her hands, lifting her to her feet. andy smiles, taking in all of y/n's facial features.

"beautiful as always, sweet girl." the lawyer coos, gently pulling her in for a light kiss. but andy never being able to handle himself around her, attempts to pull her into his lap, surely ready for round two.

"yes daddy, i am." she confirms, kissing his beard and lips several times. andy seats himself, pulling y/n on his lap, lustfil eyes watching her breasts jiggle with the sudden tug. minutes past with the two cherishing each others warmth, a usual ritual for them. y/n looks at the clock on the wall and sighs, pulling away from andy to adjust her bra and blouse. it causes andy to frown. "don't pout, i have to head back out there. neal might barge in here soon." she chuckles, kissing his lips. y/n quickly ties her hair in bun and straightens andys tie before removing herself from his lap. "how do i look?" she turns to andy, and awes inwardly as she notices his eyes are already on her.

"andy! later i promise." y/n chuckles, pecking his frowned lips. she's out his office door with quick steps, her hips not to innocently swaying side to side giving andy another love struck boner to see about by himself. "have a good day mr. barber." she winks, closing the door.

"you too my sweet cherry." andy mumbles, opening his computer and clicking on the site he was surfing through earlier this morning. andy smiles as he sees the words written over the screen. lusciouscherry1 has recently updated! click here to check it out. as the link to her page opens, andy sucks in a breath. he could tell it was recent, as the picture held the same bra she was wearing mere seconds ago. it captured y/n's lips wrapped around a cherry, her fingers pulling on the stem, it goes down to her breasts where her nipples buds are prominent even under the layer of fabric. then, further down the picture stops at her upper thighs, that are tightly creased together, holding a bunch of cherries that block her luscious cunt.

"fuck me," andy swears, groaning as his cock twitches. he scrolls down, the caption has his heart and cock pulsating with love and titillation.

lusciouscherry1

caption - i love when my daddy gifts me all these yummy cherries...i might share and let him eat it off me ;)

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