Eddie Brock Wanting To Go Out With Reader, So She Dresses Up But Venom Takes Over And Compliments Her

Keep Living with Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Andersen!cop!reader (r's mom is Captain Zoe Andersen)

Summary: You fell in love with Tim Bradford quickly, and he receives your mother's blessing to propose. After you watch your mother's murder, his plans are thrown off and he gives you a place to heal.

Warnings: spoilers for ep 1x16 "Greenlight," parental death (Captain Zoe Andersen), grief, panic attacks, nightmares. comfort at the end! not proofread

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Good mornin’,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Before we get started let’s give a warm welcome to our newest Andersen. Welcome, all the way from Chicago! I know your mom is here so we’re all too scared to give you any grief, but I hope LA treats you well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you reply, nodding to the officers beside you.

“Andersen?” Tim whispers.

“Captain Andersen’s daughter,” Bishop answers. “She was working her way toward detective in Chicago but transferred a few weeks ago. Wanted to be closer to her mom, from what I’ve heard.”

“Meaning that if you want to lay some Bradford charm on her, you’d have to answer to your boss,” Angela adds.

“Cute,” Tim replies, giving Angela a fake smile.

“You said it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call, jogging to catch up to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know how that second guy got past me, but I’m sorry for not paying attention.”

“It happens,” Tim offers with a shrug. “And it’s my job to have your back.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some thanks every once in a while. I’ll let you get back to your rookie, but, seriously, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Tim doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, after you arrived in Los Angeles, he got attached to you. Now, he keeps an eye out for you and shows you a side of himself that very few people are lucky enough to meet.

Calling your name, Tim beckons you back to his side. “Let me buy you dinner? As a thanks?” he asks, squeezing his hands together nervously.

“Why would you be thanking me? You saved me,” you remind him. 

“Just-“

“I’d love to. But I’m paying,” you answer, smiling before walking away again.

“Doubtful,” he murmurs to himself before returning to his shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

Two weeks after your first date with Tim, you smile at him over your shoulder in roll call. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, and Tim is just as happy to keep your relationship private for now – that’s something he made clear from the beginning, private not secret.

“Bradford, Andersen, the captain wants to see you,” Wade says as he enters the room. Neither you nor Tim move until he adds, “I think that means now.”

Once the door is closed behind you, you promise, “I didn’t tell her.”

“Relax,” Tim demands. “It’s probably not about us.”

He opens the door to your mother’s office, and she points for both of you to sit. Pulling your hands into your lap, you fiddle as she looks at a paper on the desk before her.

“Care to explain?” she asks.

“Explain what, ma’am?” you reply.

“You’re in here as my daughter, though I’m not thrilled to learn you and another officer are dating without my prior knowledge.”

You look at Tim, but he seems content observing this confrontation.

“Mom, I-“

“It better be a good reason,” she interrupts. “Because it’s been weeks since Tim asked me if it was allowed.”

Looking over at Tim, your mouth gapes before you accuse, “You told her!”

“I had to,” he answers. “I wasn’t dealing with her wrath, as captain or your mother.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” your mom asks. “You chose the best of them.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tim says happily.

“Don’t think that makes you infallible,” your mother threatens. “I have a gun and I can fire you, and what I choose to do depends entirely on you.”

Tim nods severely, and they both chuckle when you release a relieved sigh.

“Congratulations,” your mom tells you. “I’m glad you’re happy, and I’ll see you both at dinner on Friday?”

Tim leads you out of the office, and you ask, “What’s Friday?”

“Probably a chance for everyone who loves you to threaten me.”

“Sounds fun.”

Tim reaches out for you, but you turn away quickly. 

“You told my mother without telling me. No hugs for you until Friday.”

Smirking, Tim replies, “Yeah, you try holding out that long.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“I’ll be back in a few,” Tim tells you, kissing your forehead.

“Where are you going?” you ask, looking up at him from your spot on his couch.

“To get your favorite breakfast,” he answers. “Because I love you.”

“Be careful. I love you.”

After a year of dating, you and Tim easily acknowledge the depth of your feelings for one another. He makes you feel important, loved, and like the center of his world. It was easy to fall in love with Tim, yet every moment spent with him makes you happier.

While you wait on his couch, Tim heads to your favorite café. Fiddling with the box in his pocket, he smiles as he thinks of you. You’ve gotten to know him so well you have become practically impossible to surprise. (At least since he first told you he loved you, holding you close under a starry sky in the California desert.) This, though, should be the best surprise yet.

The bell over the door chimes as Tim enters, and he quickly finds the woman he’s here to meet.

“Good morning, Captain Andersen,” he greets, sitting across from her. She looks at him until he amends, “Sorry, Zoe.”

“It’s been a year, Tim, you’re going to have to get used to it at some point,” she teases.

“I will. I actually asked you to meet me here because I have a question about my future with your daughter.”

Zoe’s smile grows, sure that she knows where this is going. Tim removes the velvet box from his pocket and slides it across the table.

“I want to propose, ask your daughter to spend the rest of her life with me, but I refuse to do that without your permission. So, Zoe, my question is, will you allow me to marry your daughter? I can’t bring her half as much happiness as she brings me, but I will love her until my dying breath.”

“Tim,” Zoe begins, pressing the ring box back into his hand. “I would love to have you as a son-in-law; of course, you can marry my daughter. And if your proposal is anything like that, I can’t imagine her saying anything other than yes.”

“Is she going to cry?”

“Most likely,” Zoe answers with a laugh. “But you should get going before she gets suspicious.”

Tim stands with Zoe, pulling her into a hug as he thanks her. She reminds him that the family is having dinner together on Friday, and his standing invitation still stands.

“We’ll be there,” Tim promises. “And I’ll let you know when I pick a date.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knocks on Zoe’s door a week later, entering her office and closing the door behind him. 

“I’m proposing this weekend,” he tells her, smiling as he thinks of you.

“Take it easy this week, then. You want everything to be perfect,” Zoe reminds him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you okay?” you ask Tim. “You’ve been… different.”

“I’m great,” he promises. “Just ready for the weekend.”

You nod, unconvinced by his brush-off answer. Trusting Tim is easy, so you know he will tell you when he’s ready. As the day progresses, with IA reversals, celebrities, and an attempt on Nolan’s life, you’re not sure you and Tim will be able to talk about whatever bothers him.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you hear about the shots fired and the greenlight on Nolan, you don’t hesitate to meet your mother at the scene. Not telling Tim yourself wasn’t a conscious decision, simply the result of your adrenaline surging and concern for your fellow officers. Lucy is talking to Nolan as you approach, walking behind your mother, and you notice Tim standing to the side, sending him a concerned look.

“According to intelligence, you’ve bee greenlit by Southern Front,” Captain Andersen – no longer acting like your mother – announces.

“How’s a rookie get greenlit before me? I gotta step up my game,” Tim adds.

“It’s not a badge of honor, Bradford,” you reply, giving him a stern look.

“I was kidding,” he promises, his full attention on you.

Listening to the facts and learning why Nolan is being targeted, you know that finding the gang in a city as big as LA will be next to impossible. As your mom and Nolan leave, you rush to catch up with them.

“I’m coming with,” you announce.

“Officer Andersen, no,” your mom argues.

“I have more gang experience, I assisted in countless cases in Chicago. You need to let me help.”

Shaking her head, your mother gestures for you to join them. You know you’ll get yelled at, lectured, and, if you’re lucky, encounter the wrath of a concerned mother rather than an undermined captain when you get home later.

✯✯✯✯✯

“K-9 unit already swept the property,” Zoe says as she leads you and Nolan into his place.

“Uh, no, Ben left for New York yesterday. So, what’s happening here?” he replies.

“The DA approved a VARDA alarm. It bypasses 911, sends a red alert to all the cops in the area.”

“So, what’s next?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I mean, I can’t just go to work, right? I’d be endangering everyone who came within five feet of me.”

“Being a cop is being at risk.”

“You’re saying I should just report for duty, act like nothing happened?”

“I think we tell the criminals what to do, not the other way around.”

“No matter the consequences?”

“No matter the consequences. But, look, it’s up to you. No one is gonna judge you either way.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Nolan, this isn’t about bravery. You have a family. Any cop who’s ever worn a badge understands that. It seems the system is up and armed. We have a unit parked out front. Try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll stay,” you offer. “And I’m sure West and Chen are on their way.”

“You call me if anything happens,” your mom demands. “And make sure West and Chen know that, too.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, when you and Nolan enter the station, Tim gives Nolan a nod of approval. The rest of the officers break into a round of applause, and Tim’s eyes move to yours.

“You need to be careful,” Tim mouths.

“I promise,” you reply silently. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Riding in the backseat of the shop, you listen to your mom and Nolan while thinking about Tim. Being careful has always been a priority, but knowing that you risk not going home to the man you love puts everything into perspective.

The radio comes on as dispatch announces, “7-Adam-15, possible 459 in progress, 1936 Kristol Lane.”

“7-Adam-15, show us responding,” Nolan responds. “I hate this. Feels like everyone’s fighting my battle for me.”

“City still needs policing,” your mom points out.

An engine revs behind you, and you glance out of the back window, quickly noticing the nondescript van behind you. “Uh, mom?”

She nods once, removing her gun from its holster as the van moves into the lane beside the shop. You and Nolan similarly prepare to defend yourselves. The van sits beside the shop momentarily before turning onto another road.

“Uh, that was…” Nolan begins.

“Exilirating,” your mom finishes.

“I was gonna say ‘terrifying.’”

“What if we meet in the middle and say ‘dangerous,’” you recommend.

“That’s a good choice too.”

“7-Adam-15, go to channel 2 for Sergeant Grey.”

“Andersen,” Zoe calls after switching to the proper channel.

“It worked,” Wade says. “Midas forced Cole to lift the greenlight.”

“I guess you are back to being just another rookie,” Zoe tells Nolan as he takes a deep breath.

“But maybe keep your guard up for a few more days,” you suggest. “Just because there’s no greenlight doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

“Does this mean this little partnership is over?” Nolan asks.

“We got a burglary call to take,” Zoe answers with a smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

Following your mom and Nolan into the open door of the burglary location, you take the left side as your mother goes straight, and Nolan goes right. Nolan turns off a radio before a flashbang is thrown into the room. You cover your ears and move toward an assailant before he throws you onto the floor, taking advantage of your disorientation as another man sticks a cattle prod to Nolan’s chest. You’re unsure where your mother is, but as your eyes close, you hope she proves she’s always been the best cop in your family.

✯✯✯✯✯

You regain consciousness first, but the men don’t seem to care about you as they watch Nolan. Handcuffed to wooden chairs with your backs to the pool, you don’t have many options to break free, so you can only hope that your fellow officers have noticed how much time has passed since you radioed a code 6 upon arrival.

Nolan groans as he wakes, and you can’t warn him to stay quiet before he’s noticed.

“Look who’s awake,” Cole says as he turns toward Nolan, holding up the electrical prod. “Packs quite a kick, doesn’t it? It’s got four times the voltage as LAPD uses. Could probably cook the eyeball right out of your skull.”

Leaning back, Nolan replies, “Look, look, I did not intend to disrespect Astrid, okay? Or you, okay? And I would be happy to apologize.”

“Too late for that now. Only way this ends is with you dead.”

Your mom chuckles, and your head snaps toward her as she continues, “Yeah, I, uh, I’d heard that you were dumb, but it is shocking to see it in person.”

“Dumb?” Cole repeats.

“Dumb,” you say with your mother.

“Who lured you into an ambush with a false surrender?”

“Does your father know that it was false? Huh, junior? I can’t imagine that revelation’s gonna go too well, huh?”

“I think it’ll go fine.”

“Oh, he’s dumber that I thought. What’s my rank?”

“What?”

“Her rank, idiot,” you interject. “You should be able to tell by her uniform.”

“Who cares?”

“I have a feeling you will.”

“You put a hit out on a rookie,” your mom adds. “But two bars and a badge that says ‘Captain’? You’ve just crossed a line that anybody with half a brain would run screaming from. A line that even your father might whack you for crossing. Understood? So, let me tell you how this is gonna go. You and your little goonies are gonna-“

Cole lunges forward, pressing the prod against her. You pull against your restraints as she yells in pain.

“Hey! Cole! No!” Nolan yells. “Hurt me! Right? I’m the one you want hurt, right? Killing me, that’s trouble you can handle, okay? But not her. You need to let her go.”

“Do you think I’m dumb, too?”

“No.”

Cole looks back and forth between Nolan and your mother. When he moves toward her, you and Nolan yell, “No!” but can’t stop him from kicking her chair into the pool.

“No! No! No!” Nolan chants, fighting the handcuffs.

While you pull as hard as you can, attempting to break free, you begin tipping your chair back toward the water.

“If the line’s already been crossed, then there’s no going back. Which means non of you are walking out of here. As long as your bodies never turn up, the murder can’t be pinned on me,” Cole says.

Twisting in your chair, moving onto two chair legs, you watch your mother struggle underwater through blurry eyes, your vision affected by your tears.

“No, you’re wrong,” Nolan answers before offering to make a video apologizing to Astrid. “Just get her out first. Right now,” he adds after Cole agrees.

“No, you got to make the video first. Come one!”

“Nolan!” you grunt, hoping he makes this quick.

Turning back to look at the pool, you think your mother’s arm is free, and as she swims to the surface, pulling one of Cole’s “goonies” into the water, Nolan tips his chair to tackle Cole to the ground. You move toward the other man, unconcerned, when he points a gun at you. Headbutting him once you’re on the ground, you flinch when a gunshot sounds in the pool.

“No, no, no,” you repeat lowly, turning toward the water’s edge.

Your mom raises over the edge, shooting the man standing above you.

“Mom, no!” you warn as Cole reaches for his gun.

You and Nolan struggle against the cuffs, and when a bullet hits your mom’s neck, time seems to slow down. She presses a hand to the wound before she lowers back into the water.

“No!” you scream, your voice cracking with emotion. “No, no, stay up!”

“No, Cap-“ Nolan calls.

“Mom!”

Nolan breaks his chair and dives into the pool as you watch helplessly. 

“Come on,” Nolan repeats, beginning chest compressions.

“Nolan,” you whisper, sobbing against the wet concrete beneath you. “It’s too late.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Nolan tells you to stay still while he breaks your chair, but with your attention on your mom, that should be the least of his concerns. He frees you, pulling one end of the handcuffs away from the chair so you can move.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“It- it isn’t your fault.”

You begin crying again, looking at the bloody water as you kick the pieces of the chair away from you. Releasing a pained yell, you move to your knees, sitting beside your mom as sirens approach.

Nolan is beside you, unmoving, until Wade places a hand on his shoulder. Tim rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as he pulls you up.

“It was Cole,” Nolan says.

Tim leads you away from the pool as the coroner moves your mom into a flag-covered coffin. As you follow the procession through the line of officers, you stop beside Tim, waiting for his nod before you continue.

After the coroner leaves and Wade dismisses everyone with instructions to find Cade, you avoid looking at Tim. You can’t fall apart until you catch her killer. 

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into roll call the following morning, Bishop offers you her seat, and you gladly take the place beside Tim. He slides the black strap over your badge before taking your hand under the table. You stay behind the roadblock, letting Nolan and Tim approach Cole to make the arrest. Once he is in cuffs and in the back of a shop, you holster your weapon and keep your eyes on Tim.

He rushes to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says against your hair. “Do you want to go with them?”

Shaking your head, you move toward Tim’s shop, and Lucy nods as she finds another ride back to the station.

“I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, Tim,” you say when you’re alone.

“The hurt never goes away, but it lessens,” Tim promises. “And I’m right here.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Somehow, you manage to get through the funeral without falling apart. The moment you prepare to go home, to begin a life without her, that changes. You freeze on the sidewalk, looking back to the headstone.

“C’mon,” Tim murmurs as he approaches you. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”

“I can’t do this, Tim.”

“Yes, you can. Look at me. She loved you, and she wanted you to live and love, and do what you wanted to do. Do not let that monster take your life, too.”

Tim cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead as you nod.

“I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize. It- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you’re not alone, okay?”

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim holds you against his chest until you fall asleep, but you don’t get much rest before a nightmare wakes you. Slipping out of Tim’s arms, you walk into his backyard and close the door behind you. Sitting on his deck, you feel like you’re back in Cole’s yard, frozen and unable to do anything more than scream. Why didn’t you take action like Nolan? Get the gun somehow before Cole got away from Nolan? … Why didn’t you save your mother?

Pressing your hand against your mouth, you attempt to silence your cries, but you should have realized that Tim would notice the moment you left his side. He closes the patio door softly, sitting beside you.

“Can I come closer?” he asks softly.

You shake your head quickly, and your thoughts spiral. So many things could have been done differently, and maybe this is a sign that you should have never come to Los Angeles, never have become a cop and that you are the reason she is dead.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls, demanding your attention as he grabs your hand. “Breathe. Breathe with me.”

As Tim grounds you, you crawl toward him, letting him hold you as you fall apart in his arms. Crying into his chest, you eventually fall asleep again, and Tim whispers a promise that he will always be here for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The first few weeks are the hardest as reality sets in, and you relive the moment. Tim never leaves your side, though, offering a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, or a reminder that you are not to blame. As the time between tears grows longer and you can look at pictures of her and smile, you decide you’re ready to return to work.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, that is completely understandable,” Tim replies.

“I’m sure. You told me not to let Cole take my life, and I’m ready to start living again.”

“Still room for me?” Tim asks with a smile.

“Loads of room for you,” you promise, leaning against him.

“Then I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

So, when you walk into work three months later, you assume that Tim is responsible for the round of applause and the “Welcome Back” banner hanging in the bullpen. You and Tim are both surprised by how easily you return to the station, smiling as you greet your friends and able to walk past your mom’s office with nothing more than a sad smile. 

✯✯✯✯✯

After practically moving into Tim’s house after the funeral, you know where everything is. So, when he spills a drink while watching the game, unable to draw his eyes from the screen, he asks you to get him some dry clothes.

“Sure thing,” you reply, smiling at him.

Tim yells when his team scores, and you shake your head in loving amusement as you enter his closet. Moving a small basket to get a shirt from behind it, you accidentally knock something onto the floor. When you stand after picking it up, you realize that it’s a jewelry box. Opening it, you see the one thing you didn’t expect.

In the other room, one of the teams calls a time-out, and commercials begin playing. Tim realizes that you’ve been in the bedroom for a while, so he stands, stretching as he sets out to check on you.

“Did you fall into a-“ he begins, freezing when he sees you staring at the engagement ring.

“Sorry,” you say, snapping out of your shocked stupor as you close the box and put the ring back. “I knocked it off and didn’t think, uh, here’s a clean shirt.”

Tim grabs your hands rather than the shirt, stopping you before you can walk around him.

“I’ve had it for a while,” Tim explains. “I just- I could never find the right time to ask.”

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you press the shirt against Tim’s chest and ask, “Can you get dressed, please?”

“For what?”

“I need a hug, but you’re really wet.”

Tim laughs, changing right beside you before pulling you toward the bed. He rolls onto his side, looking at your face as you reach for him.

“What about the game?” you whisper.

“Who needs a game when I have you?”

“Well, if you’re not using the tv,” you begin, trailing off.

Tim sighs, kissing your cheek as he reaches over you for the remote. He turns on your favorite movie, inviting you to lay against his chest as you cuddle against him.

“Yes,” you say a few minutes later.

“Yes what?” Tim asks, looking down at you.

You pause the movie, rolling toward Tim to look up at him as you lay your chin against his chest. “If you proposed, I would say yes. No matter when or where.”

Tim smiles, and you decide to watch him rather than the movie.

Considering what his proposal may be like, you whisper, “I wish my mom was here.”

“A few months ago, I left to get breakfast, and then I was acting different the rest of the week. Do you remember that?” Tim asks. You nod, and he continues, “I went to see your mom that day. I showed her the ring and asked for her permission to propose. She told me that I had her blessing and she’d love to have me as a son-in-law.”

Tim smiles as he remembers Zoe's excitement after learning about his plans.

“I was going to propose the weekend that – that she died.”

“She loved you,” you remind him as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks.

“And I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Get dressed,” Tim whispers in your ear as the movie ends.

“What?”

“Put clothes on. Unless you want to go to dinner wearing that,” Tim replies, gesturing to your well-loved pajamas. “Not that you don’t look beautiful, of course.”

“Move,” you mumble, pushing past him to reach the dresser he emptied for you after the funeral.

As he drives you to dinner, you watch Tim’s profile, feeling like the luckiest, most loved woman ever. He stops at a park, exiting beside a tree covered in fairy lights. Walking to the passenger door, he takes your hand and helps you out of the truck.

“Tim, what is this?” you ask.

“Something I should’ve done before,” he begins, kneeling. He looks into your eyes, reflecting the lights above you as he speaks. When you say yes, crying just as Zoe said you would, Tim stands, pulling you into his arms before sliding the ring onto your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi,” you greet, lowering to sit in the grass. You look at the sparkling ring on your finger and smile. “Tim proposed. I- I wouldn’t have seen it coming if I hadn’t found it in the closet.”

The wind blows, wrapping around you like a comforting hug.

“He told me that he went to see you and you gave him your blessing. I know you loved him, and you knew how much I loved him, but… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve him. He singlehandedly held me together after that day with Cole. And I don’t want to receive more than I give.” Leaning toward the headstone, you read your mother’s name and ask, “What do I do to show him I love him?”

“He knows,” Tim answers, approaching with flowers. “May I join?”

You smile, inviting Tim to sit with you at your mother’s grave. He lays the flowers against her headstone before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“What are we talking about?” he asks.

“Us.”

“That’s my favorite topic.”

As you fall back into conversation with your mom, and Tim joins you, you feel like your mom is sitting across from you. With her love and Tim’s, plus all the love you have to give, you know you will be okay. Great even, you think as you lean against Tim, and the sun glints off the ring on your left hand.

I just found this fic. Hopefully it will be good. It’s a Aldon fic.

It’s so criminal when you start watching a new show/movie, and realize after you are already in love with yet another fictional character, that there’s no fanfics at all.

I need people to start writing for Aldon Reese from Fubar and Patrick Jane from the Mentalist. Plssss

THE GANG EXPANDS pt.2

IASIP x Reader

Always Sunny Masterlist

“Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview.” Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance on the stool.

Part 1 Here

Summary: You agreed to play Chardee Macdennis with the gang as a form of ‘job interview’. The level 3 card you pull poses the question of how far is too far?

Warnings/Tags: 18+ due to the very nature of the show. Canon typical themes including but not limited to misogyny, exploitation, abuse, derogatory language, drugs and alcohol, sexual themes, etc.

You read the level 3 card aloud, "You must do the hardest drug available to you. Players have 1 minute to search and present you with their findings."

Thinking that this game was most likely designed to be played on a weekend when it was more likely for someone to be holding, you sighed in relief. However your brief moment of safety was short lived as you watched everyone dispense and rummage around in their pockets — desperate to find anything that could be considered a hard drug.

Dee dug her contraceptive pill packet from her handbag and placed it on the table. It was a safe option, what would a harmless bit of estrogen do for a fellow fertile woman, huh?

Dennis reluctantly pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a small clear ziplock baggie with a single pill inside of it. "It's a perfectly legal prescription, calm down."

"But what is it though? It could be a fresh dose of date rape for all we know. How do we know it's not a roofie, huh?"

"Jesus Christ Deandra, no... It's an emergency melatonin for me to take if I decide to stay the night with a lovely lady at her house instead of mine."

Dee wasn't buying that crap. She wasn't buying it for one second.

Frank pulled out a penny, $300 in cash, a cracked piece of eggshell and a black jelly bean from his pocket, whilst Charlie pulled many an assortment of treasures; A Phillips head screw, a cashew nut, a crumpled up receipt and ball of lint that on second glances was definitely crawling across the bar table. Last but not least however, you watched him pull out a tab of acid from his jacket pocket.

"Wait, shit… I need that back!" Charlie said worriedly, leaning over Frank's shoulder to take back the receipt of all things. "I bought a dud goldfish from the pet store the other day. It's a rollercoaster of a story. I'll tell you later."

"Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview." Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance until you swung your arm out to stop her.

"You're right Dee. You're right." Mac hiccupped before raising his eyebrows in surprise of his own inner thoughts. “What if she dropped acid as an employee? Make it a team bonding exercise.”

First Day to Live

After Last Day to Live

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!SWAT!reader

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

Warnings/Word Count: 1.1k+ words of fluff

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

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

Tim smiles and repeats, “From?”

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

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

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

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

“Remember my promise?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“What are we doing?” you ask. 

“Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

“Can you do me a favor?” Tim asks. 

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

“Sure,” you answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?” Tim asks. 

“It’s a yes. It will be a yes every day for the rest of our lives.”

Tim slides the ring carefully onto your finger before he kisses you again. Kojo whines from the bed, and Tim chuckles against your lips before he lifts you into his arms as he stands. On the bed, you pull back and press your forehead against Tim’s. 

“Wait, that’s why you mentioned your sock drawer?!” you exclaim. 

“I thought you took away my chance to propose,” Tim defends. “It slipped out.”

“You… I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Kojo pushes his head between your stomach and Tim to rest in your lap. You pet him, looking down at your engagement ring as Tim moves to your side. 

“You know how to plan a proposal, Mr. Bradford,” you applaud. 

“I try. You made it pretty easy.”

“So you mean my reckless behavior didn’t interfere?” you tease. 

“Which one of us jumped off a roof today?”

“Street jumped first.” Tim rolls his eyes, and you seize the opportunity to mess with him. “Did you ask Deacon for his blessing?”

Tim’s eyes widen comically. “Should I have? I mean, I know you’re close, but-“

“No,” you interrupt with a laugh. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“And we’ll be perfect tomorrow,” Tim adds. “Maybe this can be the first day to live. The first day or forever.”

“Tim!” you exclaim, moving carefully to hold his face. “You said something romantic!”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, softening under your affection. 

“You’re going to be my husband, that means I get what I want. I stop being reckless and you start being like this all the time. Deal?”

Tim kisses you rather than shaking your offered hand. As it grows later, you look forward to a new day, a new beginning, and forever at Tim’s side. 

eddie teaching venom about love languages <33

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✰ f!reader x gojo ✰ actor!gojo, dryhumping, (semi)public sex (??) ++ based off this post i made.. raise ur hand if ur also freaky about gojo 🙇‍♀️🙋‍♀️ wc: 1.8k ✰

“god, i want you so bad.”

satoru reads out his line to you, his voice loud but only slightly muffled against the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. you roll your head back in response, letting it thump against the pillow underneath you as you looked up at the ceiling.

although, the sight you’re met with when you do— the sight of a large microphone hanging just a few feet above your bodies —only serves to remind you that this is all for show. a scene in a movie. you opt to close your eyes and tighten your grip on the back of his head instead.

with your mouth hanging open, it’s easy to huff out a few pants and soft moans, doing as was directed for the character you’re meant to be playing after all. you know very well satoru’s doing the same for his own character— but there’s an additional component to the scene, one that only you know of.

the additional component is hiding below the bedsheets draped over your partially nude bodies— unbeknownst to the entire crew on set —pressing against your clothed crotch and growing inside his own pants the longer he nips at your neck.

you moaned his name, arching your back into his touch. letting him know you felt him.

there’s a brief moment— a blissful moment —where you forget you’re both supposed to be filming a sex scene. not until he hoists himself up, hovering himself over your body and staring down at you with stormy eyes; what’s normally a clear blue sky in his irises was now clouded by lust.

it’s not until you spot the bright studio lights shining above him that you’re reminded where you both are.

“are you ready?” he asks you, as per the script. when he speaks he bends down to nip at your jawline and his hands move underneath the sheets, trailing sensually across your torso. he lifts his head back up and bites his lip, waits for your nod, and then he slowly sinks his full body weight onto yours once again. reaching his hand down in between your bodies, he mimics the act of himself gripping his own cock and lining it up with your entrance before slowly sinking into you. the cameras zero in on this momentous part of the whole scene.

what he does next is… not part of the script.

with the hand currently hovering between his body and yours, he presses it forward, cupping your mound through the fabric of your clothing (thin nude-colored tights, meant to blend in with your skin tone— even coupled with your underwear underneath it makes just the smallest barrier between his fingers and where you think his fingers should actually be).

his touch is featherlight at first, tracing the outline of your underwear and gradually applying more pressure as he reaches your slit. he massages his index and middle finger up and down over your cunt, making a V-shape to trail them both along your folds before bending his wrist further and applying pressure to your clit with his thumb, eliciting a genuine gasp out of you.

he bites his lip again, but this time it’s to bite back the smirk threatening to take over his expression. he starts to lift his hips up just a little before bringing them back down, simulating the act of him thrusting inside of you— meanwhile his fingers don’t let up on your clit below the sheets.

completely hidden from the cameras.

your eyelids flutter, and a moan slips past your lips before you can rationally consider it. the timing actually worked out perfectly for the scene, though; in the corner of your eye, you’re sure you just saw the director nodding his head at you.

satoru continues rubbing you through your tights, picking up his pace right as your own breathing starts to pick up as well. if he were to press his thumb any harder against your cunt he’d be able to feel the wetness already pooling up; it would probably soak through the fabric a little bit and coat the pad of his thumb with your scent.

your jaw goes slack and satoru moans at the sight— but whether or not he’s still in character is unknown to you by this point.

“fuck— you feel s’good,” he moans out, letting up on his ministrations to plant his hands flat on each side of your shoulders. you whined softly in protest at the absence of his touch before he pressed himself even closer to you. shaky hands move up to grip onto his biceps for purchase just as his head falls into the crook of your neck, his mouth open against your skin with every hot pant he exhales. his hard bulge lands directly on top of your crotch and pulls tandem moans from you two.

it’s at this point that his character would probably be expected to pick up his pace, but you’ve completely given up on keeping track of the scene by now. satoru starts to move his hips at a steadier rhythm, only now he’s actually grinding himself into your heat. the bed frame starts to rock against the set wall with his movements, and you can both feel and hear how heavily he breathes— he’s certain to ensure the microphones pick up on it, too.

“satoru, god—“ you moaned out, digging your nails into his arms and squeezing your eyes shut. he grinds his clothed cock against your cunt, whimpering every time he feels the friction of his movements against you on his already-leaky tip.

there’s a temporary moment where his hips stutter, the grinding sensation feeling too good for his brain to keep up, and you feel him press his head deeper into your neck. his teeth sink into your skin to ground himself, sucking hard at the pulse point on your neck and leaving red indents with how hard he bites you, making you cry out his name once more.

(you count your lucky stars that the character he’s playing has the same name as him, because you’re not sure you’d be able to moan the correct name for filming had they been different.)

“fuuuck, fuck—“ he whines, his voice loud enough for the mic to hear. he lifts his head up to take a look at your expression— how you furrow your brows, your mouth hanging open indefinitely for the symphony of noises he’s pulling from you, the flutter in your eyelids when you open them to meet his gaze.

he smirks again and slows down his pace to a sensual grind, rolling his hips in circles and huffing out a chuckle when your head lolls back once more.

some members of the production crew share a look with each other when they see him slow down; as far as they’re concerned, he just extended the original length of the scene with a little bit of improv.

there’s nothing wrong with an actor sprinkling in some adjustments during filming, after all.

satoru dips his head down again, tilting his head to hide his face as well as he can before nipping at your earlobe.

“open your eyes,” he rasps with a tone so quiet the microphones didn’t catch it. “i want you to look at them when you cum, let them see how nasty you are for getting off in front of all these people, in front of all your colleagues.”

your eyes open before the words even register in your head, and the moment they do you’re catching sight of all the crew members watching you two— all your coworkers. you press your forehead against satoru’s shoulder before your eyes could roll to the back of your head and you let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“heh,” he huffs, his voice now back to its regular volume. “you liked that, huh?” he coos, picking up the pace of his grinding once more. the simple whine you respond with makes his dick twitch pathetically in his pants.

it doesn’t take much longer before your own hips start bucking up to meet his, your breathing now much faster and louder— a sign of your impending orgasm. feeling you grind yourself back into him makes him moan again, and he bites his lip hard to quell the sudden tightening he felt low in his gut; he’ll be damned if he cums before you.

from the corner of his eye, the director is silently saluting your performance, nodding his head in approval when he sees you start to fuck up against satoru. to him— and everyone else on set —this is, arguably, one of the better sex performances they’ve ever seen.

(it’s maybe even a little too convincing.)

satoru’s moans begin to fade into breathy whines, his face falling against your shoulder again when his movements become more erratic. he’s chasing this high with you and finding it increasingly harder to let you reach the finish line first— but he underestimated just how close you were to crossing it.

“ah— shit,” you gasped out, your eyes rolling back again. “‘m gonna— fuck, i’m—“

you cut yourself off with a muted cry, a squeak leaving your lips before a deep moan rumbles slowly in your chest. your orgasm crashes over you gradually but with an intensity you’d never felt before— and satoru is quick to follow behind. he throws his head back and furrow his brows when he cums, his hips stuttering before stilling entirely, pressing them flush against your own. the way his jaw falls and the deep groan that leaves his mouth afterwards makes you throb further, your grip on his arms unfaltering.

he is so attractive it’s almost unfair.

when satoru collapses on you, panting hard against your shoulder, a few moments pass before the director is yelling out his cue for the scene to end. you blink your eyes open, swallowing thickly and pressing the palm of your hand against satoru’s shoulder to gently push him up.

“phew, what a workout!” he jokes with the crew, his attempt at brushing off his post-orgasm haze. “i hope you guys don’t mind if i lay here for a few more minutes, yeah?” he says this with a charming grin, carefully watching for their own amused smiles before he collapses against you once again.

to keep appearances you playfully roll your eyes, nudging at him again. “sounds like your stamina isn’t all that good,” you snorted, giving up entirely on pushing him off of you. (not that you really wanted to get up either, anyway.)

satoru merely laughs into your shoulder at your words, but the light pinch he does to your waist underneath the sheets delivers a different message. a reminder of what’s to come later on, once you’re both done filming for the day.

“i don’t suppose you’re hoping to find out how good my stamina actually is, hm?” he hums against your neck, his voice back down to a whisper only you can hear. “because i would love to show you.”

also big big thank u to my beloved @teddybeartoji for proofreading this 🫂🫂 dont know what i would do without u my mickey

Boot to most, Kid to Tim.

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

Summary: Do you ever wonder why Tim calls you ‘kid’ and not ‘boot’ like any other normal T.O would do? Good, because the whole of Mid-Wilshire is too — And in an amusing attempt to find answers, they set out to press Tim about the nickname until he breaks.

Tim Bradford had a system. Rookies were “Boots.” No exceptions.

It kept things simple, professional. He wasn’t there to be their friend—he was there to make sure they survived long enough to do the job right. He’d trained enough rookies to know that getting too familiar was a mistake. Keep your distance, break their bad habits, toughen them up, and send them on their way.

But somewhere along the line, that system cracked.

It started small. Barely noticeable. A slip of the tongue, maybe, or a subconscious shift. But it didn’t go unnoticed for long.

“You ever notice Bradford doesn’t call his rookie ‘Boot’?” Lopez mused one day, arms crossed as she leaned against her shop.

West, mid-bite of his burrito, paused. “Wait, what? No way.” He chewed thoughtfully, brows furrowing. “You sure?”

Lopez smirked, jerking her chin toward the food trucks where you and Tim were returning from, your pace leisurely compared to his purposeful strides. “Listen.”

Sure enough, as the two of you passed, Tim’s voice rang out over the chatter of the lot.

“Hurry it up, kid. We don’t have all damn day!”

You followed closely behind, completely unbothered, still munching on a tray of curly fries like you hadn’t a care in the world.

Not “Boot.”

West blinked, glancing at Lopez. “Huh.” He tilted his head. “You’re right.”

Lopez grinned knowingly, watching Tim yank open the shop door while you casually trailed after him. “Told you.”

It spread from there. At first, just quiet observations—shared glances between officers, murmured comments by the coffee machine. Then, it became something more.

One morning at roll call, Sergeant Grey was assigning tasks to the T.Os and their rookies.

“Bradford and Y/L/N, you’ll be on standby in case we need an additional unit.” Grey ordered, flipping through his notes.

Tim nodded in response with his usual smug smirk, “Maybe this’ll teach you to stop hogging the spotlight, kid.” He teased, followed by laughter around the room by fellow officers.

“Uhhuh, whatever you say.” You mumbled under your breath, turning around to face him, only giving him a thumbs down.

But despite the normality of Tim sneaking a snide comment about his rookie, Grey glanced down at his roster, then up at Tim. His gaze was unreadable.

“Kid,” Grey repeated slowly. “Not ‘Boot’?”

Tim, sitting at his usual spot, barely looked up from the paperwork in front of him. “They act like a kid, they get called one.”

Lopez scoffed from across the room. “Oh, come on. You’ve had rookies who acted like kids before. You still called them ‘Boot.’”

Tim’s pen didn’t stop moving. “Well, maybe they weren’t this much of a pain in my ass.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room. You, standing beside Nolan, just raised a brow but said nothing.

Grey, however, wasn’t so easily distracted. He studied Tim for a long moment before nodding once. “Just make sure you remember your job, Sergeant. Rookies don’t need nicknames. They need to be trained.”

Tim’s pen finally stilled. He met Grey’s gaze evenly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”

Grey watched him for another beat, then turned back to his notes.

As soon as roll call dismissed, Lopez elbowed Tim with a smirk. “Even Grey noticed it. You’re slipping, Bradford.”

Tim scoffed, shoving his papers into a folder. “Go away, Lopez.”

But the teasing didn’t stop there.

Later that week, Nyla Harper and Nolan were by the coffee machine when the topic resurfaced.

“You ever hear Bradford call them ‘Boot’?” Nyla asked casually, stirring her coffee, “Ever since Lopez mentioned it in roll call, I started wondering the same damn thing.” She admitted before bringing the cup to her lips.

Nolan frowned, thinking. “Now that you mention it… no, I haven’t.”

Nyla smirked, tapping her spoon against her mug. “Exactly.”

You walked in at that moment, grabbing a cup for yourself. “Should I be concerned that my nickname is a department-wide discussion?”

Nyla chuckled. “Not concerned. Just aware.” She took a sip. “Bradford doesn’t just hand out familiarity. If he calls you ‘Kid,’ it means something.”

Nolan grinned. “Probably means he actually likes you.”

You snorted in amusement at the idea, “Yeah, right. It’s no different from Harper calling you five percent!” — But the way they exchanged a knowing glance made you wonder.

And just when you thought the whole mind blowing concept of stoic Bradford having a nickname for you started to calm down—your coworkers were there to make sure it hadn’t.

Because one afternoon, while you and Tim were sorting through evidence reports at the precinct, Lopez, West, and Nolan were not-so-subtly watching from across the bullpen. Nyla, the current Mid-Wilshire reigning instigator, walked up and leaned against Tim’s desk.

“So,” she began, sipping her coffee, “is ‘Boot’ just too formal for you now, Bradford? Or is this one special?”

Tim didn’t even glance up. “You all seriously have nothing better to do?”

Lopez grinned. “Nope.”

You glanced between them, confused. “Why are we still talking about this?”

West gestured toward you with his fork. “Because it’s weird. You’re his rookie, but he doesn’t call you ‘Boot.’”

“Would you rather I did?” Tim finally looked up, pinning you with a dry stare.

You opened your mouth, then hesitated. “…I don’t know.”

Lopez pounced on that. “See? Even they don’t know what to make of it!”

Tim rolled his eyes, shutting the folder in front of him. “Alright. Since it’s apparently everyone’s business now—” He turned to you, arms crossed. “You tell me, kid. Why do you think I call you that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Because you hate me?”

Nolan coughed to cover his laugh.

Tim exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “No, dumbass.”

Lopez snickered. “Wow. Such a loving mentor.”

Tim ignored her. “I call you ‘Kid’ because that’s what you are. You’re a stubborn, reckless, pain-in-the-ass rookie who acts like they’ve been on the job for years when they’ve barely made it through probation.” He leaned forward slightly. “But you’re my rookie. And if I’m stuck with you, then you’re gonna learn how to do this job right.”

The bullpen fell into silence.

You stared at him, not sure what to say.

West was the first to break it. “…So, it’s, like, a term of endearment?”

Tim shot him a glare. “Don’t push it.”

Lopez and Nyla exchanged grins. Nolan just looked highly entertained.

You, on the other hand, found yourself suppressing a small smile. “Got it,” you muttered, nodding. “Kid it is.”

Tim gave a curt nod back, already returning to his paperwork like the conversation never happened.

But the next time he muttered “Let’s go, kid.” under his breath as you headed out for patrol, it felt just a little different.

Once in a Lifetime

The Rookie x SWAT documentary-style (reader insert) crossover

Summary: Mid-Wilshire opens a case that requires seven police departments, numerous SWAT teams, and an unusual witness. As the public watches a documentary all about the case and the people involved, they see more than crime.

Warnings: narration is in italics, injuries and blood, character death, discussion of child abuse, depiction of cults/brainwashing, fake tweets, I probably went overboard, fluff and comfort at the end I promise

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: This idea struck me last night and I had to do something with it. I hope someone enjoys it, but I'm never using a tweet generator again because it took an embarrassing amount of time.🤍

What if a once-in-a-lifetime moment depended on a single decision, rather than a plethora of them?

“I didn’t call the police because it’s none of my business. I’ve seen how she treats her kids, why would I interject my family into that when I don’t have to?”

What if the one moment that could change everything was slipping away before you arrived?

“I’ve got a pulse! As soon as we’re code 4, I need an R/A standing by!”

What if the world stopped for your once in a lifetime?

“The 405 has been shut down between Signal Hill and Alameda Street. This sudden, unexplained closure, in conjunction with the heavy law enforcement presence throughout Los Angeles, has citizens alert and concerned.”

What if the only person who can save you is the result of dozens of perfectly aligned once-in-a-lifetime moments?

“7-Lincoln-100, I’ve located another-“

This is Once in a Lifetime.

Sergeant Tim Bradford, Officers Chen, Nolan, Juarez, and Smitty enter different areas of the Mid-Wilshire police station. Detective Lopez and her husband, attorney Wesley Evers, take a seat in their home, while Detective Nyla Harper and Sergeant Wade Grey sit at their respective desks. Each officer has been interviewed for a documentary before, but the mood is distinctly somber as compared to the other episodes.

“Hi, I’m Alex, host of ‘It’s All Bloody (and) True,’” the man behind the camera introduces. “Today’s episode is about the case involving eight different police departments, four specialized units, a major highway closure, and - correct me if I’m wrong - a series of once-in-a-lifetime decisions and opportunities that seem mathematically impossible.”

“Mathematically impossible?” Wesley repeats. “Try completely impossible. On paper, there is no way this case should have lined up the way it did.”

“Not to say it was easy,” Angela adds. “I’ve been on the job for a long time, and this was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“As the veteran officer on this case,” Wade continues from his office, “I agree with Detective Lopez. Everything g about this was unprecedented.”

“I’d like to start with day one of the investigation,” Alex requests. “Take us through the first moment, the call, and how this came into your station and became your duty.”

Lucy answers, “911 dispatchers received a call from a distressed man claiming that his neighbor had gone missing.”

“A call that raised concern for more reasons than his distress, correct?”

“Yes,” Sergeant Bradford says. “The caller mentioned the name of his neighbor’s employer.”

ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: CALLER She- she went to work like she always does, but this was days ago. It would’ve been… Monday, no Tuesday because my wife was making donuts for her board meeting. Eileen called her in at some crazy time. DISPATCH You said Eileen? Is that your neighbor’s boss? CALLER Yes, yes. Eileen Indigo, I believe. She’s made her do crazy things before, but she needs the job, you know? I’m just really scared because she’s never done anything like this before and Eileen has some serious issues. DISPATCH Officers have been alerted and will be performing a welfare check, sir.

“You responded to the welfare check?” Alex inquires.

“We did,” John Nolan replies. “There was no answer at the door, so we surveyed what we could see and there was no sign of anyone inside, of forced entry, or any foul play.”

“Without that, there’s no probable cause for us to enter,” his rookie, Celina, adds. “Although there was a feeling of urgency surrounding her residence.”

“Is that- is that something you look for as police?”

“Of course not,” Tim snaps. “But we’re human, we have emotions. We notice things about how people and places feel.”

“Unfortunately, Officer Juarez’s empathy and intuition wasn’t enough for us to move forward,” Lucy continues. “And without any sign that something nefarious had happened, all we could do was post a missing person’s report.”

“But the case stood out?” Alex guesses.

“Right,” Tim agrees. “Because of Eileen Indigo.”

PREVIOUS INTERVIEW FOOTAGE: “Ms. Indigo,” Detective Harper greets. “We have a few questions about your relationship with Devon Taylor.” “There isn’t one,” the young woman replies, picking at her shirt rather than looking at the cop across from her. “He left six months ago. During our kids’ birthday party, can you believe that?” “Ma’am, we located Mr. Taylor. He’s deceased, and his body was dumped in a viaduct.” The woman sits back in the chair, straightens her shirt, and asks, “Did he have cash on him? I gave him $50 for a new flat iron before he ran out.”

“So, why did the mention of her name spark interest?" Alex asks. "Taylor’s case had been closed, his best friend - who turns out to be Ms. Indigo’s, uh…”

“Sidepiece?” Angela suggests.

“Mister?” Wesley adds. “There’s not a direct mirror of ‘mistress,’ is there?”

“Yeah, the friend got jealous that Indigo hadn't left her husband and offed him. What made us remember Indigo was the complete lack of care,” Grey explains.

“That and the concerns about her treatment of their children,” Nyla comments.

“Surely if she was mistreating her children, it would have been uncovered during the duration of your investigation?” Alex hypothesizes.

“Not our investigation.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Right, there were eight police stations involved in this case,” Alex remembers.

“There are only 21 stations in Los Angeles, for reference,” Wesley says. “Seven of the stations working this case were in LA. So, one-third of the officers were directly tied to this case in some capacity.”

“And the introduction of Eileen Indigo introduced this collaboration?”

“Not exactly,” Tim begins. “When we began looking into Indigo, it was only in regards to how she was treating our missing person. And, as we began looking into that, we discovered past complaints and CPS reports of her children being mistreated.”

“And?”

“CPS found nothing,” Nolan replies.

“Their investigations - plural - all determined that the children were in good health, being cared for, and not in any immediate danger,” Celina states.

“So, you went back to square one,” Alex says, flipping a page of his notes.

“Not at all,” Wade interrupts. “We were still trying to piece together the caller’s claim that Indigo mistreated her kids and her employees when we received a call from another station.”

“And he dropped a bombshell,” Nyla deadpans.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Would you mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.

“Sure. I’m Commander Robert Hicks, LAPD SWAT,” the man seated in a different station greets.

“Upon learning that Mid-Wilshire was looking into Eileen Indigo, you called their watch commander. Why?”

“After the initial report of child abuse, my 20-David SWAT team was dispatched to Indigo’s residence. Responding officers reported that she had barricaded herself and her children inside. My people got there, got in, and found that Indigo and her children were asleep, completely safe and unharmed.”

“And that didn’t bring more questions?”

“Of course it did,” Hicks argues. “There’s just procedure to follow, and even though my team wanted to get to the bottom of what happened and find out more about Indigo, we can’t just dive into people’s background because we feel like it.”

“When you called Grey, were you planning to offer your team to be on standby?”

“No, and I didn’t right away.”

“When was it decided that SWAT would be beneficial to working the case?”

“After the next call,” overlapping voices reply.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Roll Call Room: “This is Sergeant Harrelson, Sergeant Kay, Officer Luca, Officer Tan, and Officer Street,” Wade introduces. “They will be on standby during the visit to Ms. Indigo’s home. If a warrant is issued, they will serve it.” “We have experience with Indigo and have been on the home before, so we’re happy to offer any assistance we can,” Harrelson adds. “What if she lets us search the house and we don’t find anything?” Officer Juarez asks. “It’s a missing persons’ report, there’s not much we can do,” Nolan answers. “One thing at a time,” Wade reminds them.

“Not only did you secure a warrant because of a subsequent complaint, but you felt it necessary to bring in five additional departments from different stations,” Alex muses. “What did you find that led you to take such extreme measures?”

“Let’s just say, I drew up the affidavit, and while you’re only required to provide the judge with probable cause to believe evidence is present in the location being searched, my document was nearly 50 pages in length,” Wesley shares.

“And the judge only read the first page,” Angela adds.

Nyla then says, “The judge signed not only the warrant for her office but gave us a warrant for every piece of real estate she had under her name. We found five additional residences and several acres of land outside of Palm Springs.”

“Making Palm Springs PD the third station to join what was turning into a hunt for the missing woman,” Lucy connects. “It was also at this point that Sergeant Grey knew we needed to serve all six warrants simultaneously, so we needed more hands.”

“In addition to recruiting Metro, patrol, and SWAT officers from our sister stations,” Wade adds, “we also put out a nationwide BOLO. It was Thursday afternoon at this point, so we were two days past when the 911 caller had last seen his neighbor alive.”

“With a plan to raid Indigo’s office and homes at the same time, you went out in teams,” Alex says. “But most people who’ve had A&E any time after 2004 know that the first 48 hours of missing persons investigations are vital, and after that, the chances of finding them alive go down.”

The camera shows Nyla, usually the effortlessly funny detective, sigh deeply before she says, “That’s what made the next part so hard.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

Alex finds a paper with names on it, then says, “This is the team that raided Eileen Indigo’s office in California Heights. Going around the table quickly, we have Commander Bob Hicks, 20-David SWAT members Sergeants Harrelson and Kay, Officers Luca, Tan, and Street, as well as Detective Harper, and Officer Chen. Additionally, Metro Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

“And I was the one who chose to close the 405,” Wade offers.

“As someone who worked for LBPD, I continue to support that decision,” Street says. “The office building - which was a converted house - backed up to Orange Avenue, which crosses the 405 and has its own on-ramp. Had she been able to get on there and disappear into car-pocalypse, we’d be telling a different story right now.”

“That was surprisingly logical,” Harrelson - who invited everyone to call him Hondo before the cameras started rolling - muses.

“So, the 405 is closed for a good reason, but why leave the public hanging?” Alex wonders.

“To protect ourselves and others,” Lucy says. “If she knew we were coming, who’s to know what she might have done.”

“She would’ve run,” Tim adds from his commander’s office. “Or, worse, she would have harmed the people close to her to throw us off her scent.”

“You said ‘the people closest to her.’ Raiding Indigo’s office made this case about more than a missing woman,” Alex editorializes.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Eileen Indigo's Office Building: “LAPD,” Hondo calls quietly as a woman sitting at the front desk raises her hands in shock. “Get down on the ground. How many people are inside?” “Just Ms. Indigo, her assistants, and the trigon team,” she whispers.

PREVIOUS 911 CALL: CALLER I don’t know what exactly she’s doing! Her children are outside in the cold reciting something about tricycles, maybe? She has a paper in her hand and when they say the wrong word, she threatens them! DISPATCH Officers and EMS are en route.

“Tell me more about Trigon,” Alex requests.

“I wish we could,” Angela replies.

“Indigo’s trigon team continues to be a mystery,” Wesley explains further. “There’s real estate holdings with each team member listed as a beneficiary, they’ve got a joint bank account, but we can’t find any real evidence of them actually doing anything together.”

“As far as we could tell,” Tim begins, looking away from the camera quickly, “the so-called trigon team was some sort of attempt at starting a cult. The uh, ‘members’ were evaluated by a psychiatrist, who believed there had been a degree of brainwashing involved.”

“When we connected the 911 call about her – how do I put this? – initiation of her children, we knew there was more to Indigo’s business than we anticipated,” Lucy says. “But, at the moment during the raid, we were in no way interested in getting these answers, just finding the missing woman and getting cuffs on Eileen.”

“Without an arrest warrant,” Wade reminds Alex and his viewers. “We had to find probable cause to legally arrest her, and though the judge understood our evidentiary concerns and issued the search warrants, he didn’t have enough to give us an arrest warrant.”

“So, you went in looking for something you could arrest her for?” Alex asks, suddenly sounding accusatory.

“No,” Tim snaps. “We went in looking for a missing person because there was more than enough evidence that Indigo had engaged in threats of violence in and out of the workplace.”

“But isn’t workplace mistreatment a civil matter?”

“Most cases are,” Wesley agrees. “But when it grows more severe; when threats progress to actual physical assault, it becomes a criminal offense under California law.”

“There was no evidence of that included in the affidavit.”

“That’s because Palm Springs PD hadn’t found her trophies,” Nyla responds.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Palm Springs Property: “Clear!” an officer calls. “We’re code 4.” “I got something!” another voice alerts. A sergeant passes through the barricade and kneels by the recently disturbed dirt. A large metal box protrudes from the shallow hole, and he radios for a forensics team. When they arrive, the box is photographed before it is removed and opened. Inside, there are dozens of disturbing photographs (which have been blurred for viewers of the documentary). “Get Sergeant Grey on the phone!” someone yells.

“When I received the call, the teams serving warrants on her LA properties had already left the station,” Wade explains. “I alerted the senior officer at each location and allowed them to distribute that knowledge as they saw fit.”

“It ended up being completely irrelevant,” Sergeant ‘Deacon’ Kay interjects. “When we reached the conference room of Indigo’s office, we had enough to arrest her.”

“The trigon team was…” Angela pauses, attempting to find the right word.

“Cataloging,” Nyla finishes for her. “They were sorting new, additional pictures that put Indigo not only at several crime scenes but explained how she had evaded CPS and past officer visits in the past.”

“She was mistreating her children?” Alex translates.

“Not physically,” Celina answers.

“Though there were early signs of that progression during the children’s examinations,” Nolan adds. “No, she preferred psychologically abusing her children. Brainwashing, manipulation, a sick sort of training, whatever you want to call it, she forced it upon her children.”

“And her employees, as it proved with the trigon team.”

“So, you find the trigon team, arrest them with relative ease, and then what happens?” Alex asks.

“It sounded like the world was ending,” Lucy answers.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Building: “Street, Bradford,” Hondo calls, “with me.” Street and Tim fall into line behind Hondo and continue moving through the narrow hallway. As they pass Indigo’s open door and empty office, a sudden, deafening noise fills their ears and the microphones on their body cameras. Every officer ducks forward instinctually and attempts to drown out the noise. “It’s coming from the garage!” Tim yells. “7-Adam-19, we need backup in the kitchen! Taking fire!” Lucy radios. “Go!” Street tells Hondo, “We’ll handle the garage.” Hondo nods and moves through the noisy house to assist the officers being fired at. “Eyes on Indigo!” Nyla alerts. “Moving from the kitchen toward the master bedroom!” Tim taps Street’s shoulder before they enter the garage. As the door opens, the noise grows louder. “What the-“ Street mumbles. “Go!” Tim yells. “Shut it off!” Street nods, then pulls the strap on his gun across his chest. With his hands free, he grabs the jackhammer being held upright by 5-gallon buckets filled with sand and water. As he tries to find the right button to turn it off, Tim circles the car slowly before he drops to his knees and slides his head and shoulders beneath it. “Eileen Indigo is in custody,” Nyla radios after the jackhammer silences. “Back bedroom is barricaded,” Luca adds. “Hold for entry.” “Bradford, what are you doing?” Street inquires. Tim pushes himself out, and Street immediately sees the blood – your blood - coating his hands. Tim says, “I found her,” then returns to his original position beneath the car. “Officers taking fire!” Tan alerts. “Deac!” Street calls into his radio. “We need a medic.” “We need a little more than a medic!” Tim barks. “Where are you?” Deacon asks, raising his voice over the commotion in the house. “Garage,” Street answers. “I can’t get over there, Street. I’m on the 3-side and there’s a firefight between us,” Deacon replies. “Victim has been located,” Tim radios, shockingly calm for someone with blood up his forearms. “We need an R/A. I’ve got a pulse, but not for long.” “Can we move her?” Street asks, moving to his knees to look under the car. “She’s not responsive,” Tim replies. “It’s not smart, but we’re running out of options.” “It’s probably a stupid idea,” Street decides. Tim turns his head, keeping his hands against your sides. “What’s a stupid idea?” “This car probably runs, has a big trunk… We need to get her help, right?” Tim hesitates, then says, “Get in the car.” “What part of move her did you not hear?” “We can’t move her much, she’ll bleed out. Pull the car forward.” “Hondo, we need someone blocking the garage, we're moving the vic,” Street radios as he climbs into the car. “It’s a button-start, if the key isn’t close enough, we can’t start it.” “Street, try!” Tim yells as gunfire grows louder.

“You find Eileen Indigo, take her into custody, and find the missing woman,” Alex reiterates. “And decide to drive over her, knowing she was injured. That seems like an absolute last resort.”

“Considering we were in a gunfight with Eileen’s version of private security and an ambulance can’t come in until we’re completely clear, we needed a last resort,” Nyla snaps. “It’s not something we’d do every day, but it was what we needed in this instance. It was try to get her in the car and out of the house, or risk letting the woman bleed out.”

The shot changes to Tim Bradford, who looks at a piece of paper lying in his lap but doesn’t speak.

“Sergeant Bradford?” Alex says softly.

“Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head as he looks up. He flips the paper, briefly showing the camera that it’s an image of you – smiling, happy, and alive. “While Officer Street started the car, I kept pressure on the victim’s wounds and ensured neither of us was in the way of the tires.”

“Officer Street’s recollection suggests you covered the victim’s body with your own. Is that what made this case emotional?”

“Amongst other things.”

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Garage: “Okay, let’s do this,” Street says, rounding the SUV as the trunk opens. Tim shifts, moving to your left side as his hands press against your side, just below your ribs. “The kids,” you mumble. “We’ve got them,” Tim assures you. “Do you know where you are?” You open your eyes and meet Tim’s gaze, murmur, “Thank you,” and lose consciousness. “She’s fading, we have to go now,” Tim states. “Tell me what to do, Sergeant,” Street requests. Tim looks around and gestures to a stack of beach towels with his chin. “Put those in the trunk, then come put pressure here.” Street does as Tim instructed and holds your side as Tim lifts you in a bridal carry. You groan, and Tim is glad to hear you reacting but terrified by how much blood you’re losing and your lack of consciousness. “Drive,” Tim demands as he climbs into the trunk with you. “26-David and Sergeant Bradford, transporting victim in suspect’s Chevrolet Tahoe, partial plate Foxtrot-9-3-4,” Street alerts dispatch. The hospital becomes visible just as Wade radios, “We’re 10-4 all around, code 4. Indigo and the shooters are in custody.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“With the teamwork of seven stations, nearly 200 officers, and a 60-hour-long hunt, the missing woman was located,” Alex narrates. “And is transported to the hospital.”

“Less than an hour later, we received a call that she died on the operating table,” Nyla says. “There really wasn’t anything we could do at that point, just hope that the evidence would talk, and Eileen’s reformed followers and children could testify.”

“You found the victim. How did that news affect you?” Alex asks Street and Bradford, now separated from the other officers.

“What kind of question is that?” Street asks. “Regardless of who found her, the news of her death was still devastating.”

“Calls like that are always hard,” Tim answers flatly. “But we didn’t have a ton of time to dwell on it before Officer Thorsen found something else.”

ACTUAL RADIO COMMUNICATION: “7-Lincoln-100,” Aaron Thorsen radios. “I’ve located another employee of Eileen Indigo’s. Albert Camden, in custody for 211 with a water gun.” “Yeah, Albert Camden was still relatively sane,” Wade deadpans. “He gave us everything we needed to prosecute Eileen to the full extent of the law.” “Why turn on his employer so easily?” Alex inquires. “She threatened to kill his family if he didn’t rob the corner store where he was arrested,” Angela answers. “After he learned she was in custody, he gave us detailed accounts of his time with Indigo and why he didn’t quit.” “And it was during this time that the final 911 call came in,” Alex says.

ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: DISPATCH 911, what’s the location of your emergency? CALLER I need to speak to Bradford. DISPATCH I’m sorry? CALLER He’s a cop, and I have information for him about Eileen Indigo, but I don’t know which station he works at.

Tim looks up from the camera and the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Welcome,” Alex greets, shaking hands with someone behind the camera. “Thanks for coming to tell your side.”

Tim shifts his seat to the right and invites the 911 caller to sit beside him.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.

You send him a small smile and shift in your seat before offering your name. “I worked for Eileen Indigo for about 6 weeks before she decided she wanted me to be a 24-hour employee.”

“Meaning?”

“She invited me to stay in the office 24/7 and do essentially anything she asked me. I very briefly considered it, only to ensure her children were safe, but ultimately turned it down. It was at that time she abducted me.”

“Why did you decide to fake your death?”

“I didn’t,” you reply with a smile. “Sergeant Kay did, and after the role he played in saving my life, with Officer Street and Sergeant Bradford, I wasn’t going to argue.”

“So,” Alex begins with Deacon and Street, “Why?”

“We learned that the father of her children wasn’t out of the picture, not like we thought,” Street answers.

“Mr. Devon Taylor was not murdered,” Deacon adds. “He met with detectives at the Mid-Wilshire station and worked with them to try to recover his children from their birth mother.”

“Taylor had an associate who was planning to take over Indigo’s business and real estate endeavors,” Nyla explains.

“I figured if her enterprise was directly connected to a murder, he’d hesitate,” Deacon continues.

“And he did,” Alex replies. “Just long enough to be caught using Indigo’s bank account. So, he was taken into custody, yet your people were not alerted to the actual survival of the victim.”

“Right,” Tim answers through a clenched jaw. “A minor oversight.”

“One of the doctors caught it and allowed me to call Sergeant Bradford,” you say. “I had to thank him for saving me, but he did hang up on me.”

Lucy laughs, leaning forward, before she exclaims, “His face! He hung up and immediately drove to the hospital with his lights and sirens on.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“After a series of no less than a dozen once-in-a-lifetime opportunities aligning perfectly, Eileen Indigo was arrested and is going to trial in the coming weeks,” Alex concludes. “Anything that stands out to you as the case comes to a close?”

Each officer offers a lesson or two that can be learned from their time working the case, except for Tim, Deacon, and you. During Alex’s ending narration, a cameraman steps around a corner and zooms in on you. Viewers watch in delight as you smile with Tim and Deacon. When your hand rises to Tim’s arm after Deacon excuses himself, people begin to wonder if Tim got more than a good arrest.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS AFTER LIVE BROADCAST: (featuring your response to the massive amount of feedback)

Lucy Chen - 2 new messages

It’s not just us, everyone can see the chemistry🤭 Have fun on your date!!

He might not say it, but you’re Tim’s once-in-a-lifetime. Thanks for being there for him.

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Warnings: pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: @bradleybeachbabe inspired me to write this (as well as Eric Winter posting about the Dodgers)! I hope you enjoy the game you're going to soon, Rachel!!!💙

Today’s date has been circled on your calendar for months. The Dodgers are playing at home in LA, and you got tickets behind home base. Since scoring the tickets, you’ve been counting down the moments, using this game to get you through tough days and long nights. Now that it’s finally here, you can forget about everything else for the evening and enjoy the game, hoping for another exciting evening like the tiebreaking two-run homer you watched on TV last week. Dressed in your favorite Dodgers shirt, you leave for Dodgers Stadium happier than you’ve been in weeks. Something in the Los Angeles air makes you think it will be a great night.

“Lucy, if I had an extra ticket, I’d sell it,” Tim sighs as he parks at Dodgers Stadium. “If you want to be at this game so badly, ask Thorsen. If anyone can get you a last-minute ticket, it’s him.”

“But he’s already at the game,” Lucy laments over the phone.

“So am I!”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is that-“ Tim stops and shakes his head. “Lucy, I hope you can figure something out. If not, I’ll tell you all about the game at work.”

“Ugh, you’re such a man.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Tim ends the call before Lucy can explain that she did not mean that as a compliment. It’s been a tough week at the Mid-Wilshire station, and Tim wants to watch a good game, cheer for his team, and unwind.

Tim smiles as he makes his way to his seat: an unexpected but highly appreciated upgrade to home base. Coming into Dodgers Stadium feels like coming home, and Tim thinks tonight will be a good game. At least until he sees that the seat beside him, which he expected to be empty, is occupied by a woman scrolling on her phone rather than enjoying the pre-game activities. He ignores his disappointment at being in the section with a disinterested neighbor as he watches warmups.

You look up from the detailed roster file you keep on your phone. Gavin Lux, an infielder who is a left-hand batter and right-hand thrower, is wearing his glove on his right hand for warmups. As you scroll through your newest notes, glancing up at the team every few swipes, someone sits beside you.

“Left, right,” you murmur to yourself.

“Excuse me?” the man asks.

You lift your gaze from your phone, then freeze when you see the attractive man occupying the seat to your right.

“Sorry, I’m talking to myself. Lux is just… never mind, sorry.”

As you turn back toward the field, he asks, “Lux is?”

“He’s warming up with his glove on his throwing hand.”

The man looks out into the field, locates Lux, and nods. “He is. Any idea why?”

You shake your head. “I thought maybe I was remembering his stats wrong, but I double-checked and he’s warming up opposite.”

“Interesting. Think we can win with him off his game?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug. “I don’t think he’s the player that makes or breaks a game. Unless he tries to bat right-handed, we should be okay.”

“I’m Tim,” he introduces, offering his hand.

You shake his hand as you tell him your name, surprised by how he holds your hand in his just a moment longer than is usually acceptable. You don’t mind, especially when he smiles and asks if you’ve noticed anything else.

“Is this your usual seat?” you inquire after a few minutes of discussing the players and their techniques.

“No, my season pass gets me over first base,” Tim answers. “You?”

“One-night only. I’d love to get a season pass someday.”

“If we win tonight, they should give you one on principle.”

You laugh as you ask, “Why?”

“If we win tonight after that tenth inning save last week, with our infielders off their game, and you just happen to be in the crowd? You’d have to be good luck.”

“Maybe it’s just a good day,” you counter softly.

Tim smiles as he agrees, “Maybe.”

“Stop letting the ball play you!” someone behind you yells. “This is why they should have left you in the minors!”

You stifle a laugh at their enthusiasm but agree with them. Tim sighs beside you and checks the score.

“Just one can of corn, is that too much to ask?” Tim grumbles.

“Wow,” you exclaim. “You really just used that term.”

“You disagree?”

“Not at all, just haven’t heard someone younger than Babe Ruth call it that.”

“Then, what do we do? We’re going to lose at this rate.”

You shrug and offer, “Guess I’m not very good luck, after all.”

Tim wants to disagree but decides that it’s not his place. If the Dodgers win, then he’ll tell you that he’s impressed by you, drawn to you, but otherwise, you’ll go your separate ways, never to see one another again.

“I don’t want to watch this, Tim,” you say with a pout.

The Dodgers are tied in the bottom of the ninth in a concerning parallel to their previous game. You don’t trust them to get the ball where it needs to be to win, not after their lackluster performance in the first few innings.

“Wish them luck,” Tim encourages, standing beside you as the crowd roars. “C’mon, give into the superstition once. What’s the worst that happens?”

“We lose, and my night of relaxation becomes me wondering if you put a curse of the team by saying good luck in these sacred walls.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but it’s a baseball game. It’s not that serious.”

You try to ignore Tim, but the smile on his face is too hard to look away from. To appease him and partially because you love hearing him say you are good luck, you whisper a wish of good luck, boys through the net separating you from foul balls.

And, somehow, between when you speak and when the stadium silences, Mookie Betts hits a homerun that echoes throughout Los Angeles, and the Dodgers perform another walk-off.

“You did it!” Tim yells as the crowd erupts into cheers.

He pulls you into his arms, completely forgetting his prior hesitance to tell you how much you affected him, and you throw your arms over his shoulders as he spins you. When your feet are on the ground again, you cup Tim’s jaw and smile.

“We won!” you cheer as fireworks boom overhead.

“You really are good luck,” Tim replies.

“Maybe you’re the good luck."

Tim shakes his head and leans closer to you. The stadium around you is completely forgotten, entirely focused on the man before you. His hands are on your waist, yours are framing his face, and you can’t wait to hear what he says next.

“Will you go out with me? I think we could both use some more good luck,” he proposes.

Your smile widens as you nod. “I’d love to.”

Tim pulls you against his side, his arm warm and steady over your shoulders as you cheer for your home team and yourself.

Bonus:

“So, how was the game, Tim?” Lucy asks before roll call.

“It was great, after we caught up, at least,” Tim answers. “Did you watch it?”

“Yeah, Aaron pulled through and got me a ticket. Over the outfield but still better than anything I could’ve gotten on my own.”

Tim nods, but she doesn’t move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.

“What?” he asks.

“I saw something else at the game. Someone made it onto the jumbotron,” Lucy sing-songs. “You’re trending on ClipTok. Everyone’s talking about the mystery couple who celebrated the win.”

Tim narrows his gaze at Lucy, who shrugs and invites him to check for himself before she enters the roll call room. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see a text from you.

We’re trending. I don’t know if I should be more upset by all the people shamelessly looking for us or that they’re calling you ‘gorgeous’ and I’m ‘that girl hugging him.’

Tim rolls his eyes and answers:

Wait until they find out why we won.

You don’t acknowledge the implication that he’ll tell someone (Lucy, who will undoubtedly put it on ClipTok); instead, you tell him you’re looking forward to dinner tonight. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at a baseball game for you and Tim turned into something so much more. If that’s not good luck, you don’t know what is.

Talk to Me, Baby

Requested Here!

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

Summary: Your son loves to talk to you. Unlike his dad, Tim, he doesn't try to make you shy.

Warnings: FLUFF! Angela and Tim act like siblings

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

A/N: Happy birthday @sweetheartlizzie07! I hope you enjoy!🤍

“Hi,” your baby boy says as you approach his crib.

“Hi,” you reply happily. “How are you?”

“Hi,” he repeats with a nod.

You shake your head in amusement and lift him from his crib. He’s only a few months old, but he enjoys talking to you as if he understands exactly what the conversation is about. As you carry him into the living room, he clings to the collar of your shirt and babbles quietly. Your phone rings, and you lower him onto a play mat to crawl around before you sit on the floor beside him and answer your phone.

“Hi, Angela,” you greet.

“Hey! The kids and I are in the neighbourhood, and I wanted to ask if we could drop by for a few minutes?” she asks.

“Of course, come on over.”

“Is everyone awake? I don’t want to interrupt naptime.”

“Yep,” you assure. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much!”

You end the call and look toward your son, who is on his hands and knees to press the buttons of a toy phone.

“Aunt Angela is coming over,” you tell him.

“Ange!” he cheers.

“Yeah, Ange. And she’s bringing your friends.”

“Hi!” he says, waving excitedly toward the door.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get your people skills from me or your dad,” you mumble. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?” you ask him. “All those books we read?”

He nods and crawls toward you, so you pull him into your lap and kiss his plump cheeks. He giggles loudly at your attention, and you continue playing with him as you blow raspberries against his skin. You pull your knees up so he’s upright and kiss his forehead as he calms down from his giggle fit.

“Can I get one of those kisses?” Tim asks.

You look up quickly, surprised to see him. He smiles at you, and you look back at your baby, so he doesn’t see your shy smile.

“If you want,” you answer softly.

“You’re right,” Tim says as he walks toward you. “I don’t want one. I want more than that.”

He sits beside you and takes his son from your lap. You lean toward Tim and rest your head on his shoulder. After he kisses the top of your head, he gives his attention to his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he greets.

“Hi, dada!”

“Angela is coming over,” you tell Tim.

“Friends,” your baby says.

“You’ve got a better vocabulary than Lucy,” Tim praises, raising his voice to a higher pitch that makes your baby smile.

“Boot,” he says, sounding it out slowly, like ‘buh-oo-t.’

“And better word association,” Tim adds.

“He’s going to start calling people boot if you’re not careful,” you say against Tim’s shoulder.

Someone knocks on your door, and Tim raises one hand to help you stand. As you walk toward the door, he holds your son close to his chest and pushes himself up. Angela comes in with both of her kids, and you point her to the bathroom when Jack asks to go.

“It’s almost mama’s birthday, bud; let’s practice,” Tim says behind you. “Happy.”

“Hap,” your son says.

“Happy,” Tim repeats. “Birthday.”

“Hap birth-ay.”

“Good job, my little man.”

You walk to Tim’s side, and when he raises the arm not holding your baby, you wrap your arms around his waist and settle under his arm. Angela may want to talk while the kids play, but Tim just got home, and you’ve been missing him since he returned to work after paternity leave.

“We read Goodnight Moon earlier, and he finished some of the lines,” you tell Tim.

“Because he’s smart like his mom,” Tim replies.

You hide your face against Tim’s shirt as you say, “And his dad.”

“I think we should read him the rook book. Give him a head start.”

“And that’s why we wonder how you ever got married and had a baby,” Angela says as she returns.

“Don’t like the competition?” Tim taunts.

“How do you deal with him?” Angela asks you.

“I usually don’t,” you answer. “He’ll just make it worse if I try.”

“That makes me sound like a horrible husband,” Tim interrupts. “But I’m not. Ask this guy and he’ll say I’m the best dada.”

“Best dada!” he cheers, bouncing against Tim’s arm.

“See?”

Angela shakes her head as she pulls her phone from her pocket. She types something quickly before she looks at you.

“I have to go. Maybe we can schedule an actual play date soon so your genius son can teach Jack that crayons are for coloring and not sniffing,” she suggests.

“Nothing wrong with sniffing crayons,” Tim defends. “It builds character.”

“If you sniffed crayons and turned out like this, I need to make him stop before it’s too late.”

Angela rolls her eyes at Tim as she hugs you, and then she gets a high-five from your son before she leaves. Alone again, you return to Tim’s side and lay your hand on your son’s back.

“I got you something,” Tim says. “We arrested a counterfeiter today who had a ton of books that he used for ink matching, and evidence cleared the books. So, the backseat of my truck is filled with children’s books.”

“Little guy will be thrilled when he wakes up.”

You point to your son, asleep against Tim’s shoulder, and smile. He loves reading with you and Tim, which you accredit to all the time you spent reading aloud while you were pregnant. Tim thinks that’s also the reason he can talk so well already.

Tim walks to the couch with you and sits beside you. Seeing him with your son on his chest makes you fall more in love with him each day, even if he does tease you for watching them. Sitting at Tim’s side, you have a clear view of his profile. When you tip your chin up and kiss his cheek, Tim smiles and turns his face toward you. You kiss him and sigh against his lips.

“I love you,” you say as you pull back.

“I love you,” Tim replies.

“Love you,” your baby says against Tim’s shoulder.

“Has he said that before?” Tim asks, wide-eyed as he looks at you.

You shake your head and quietly scold Tim for trying to wake him up to hear it again. When you kiss Tim’s jaw, your baby boy gets another shot at peaceful sleep, while you fight not to shy away from your husband’s affection.