Brighter, Sweeter Days
Brighter, Sweeter Days
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!baker!reader
Summary: Tim comes to your bakery daily, and you try to brighten his day to get him to notice you. When he finally shows you he has noticed you, there's a lot you have to tell him.
Warnings: minor injuries, fluff!!!
Word Count: 2.4k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules
A wave of hot air greets you as you open the oven. Pulling the cookie sheet from the left side and a muffin pan from the right, you smell the intermingled brown sugar, maple, and orange. After the hot pans have been safely placed on one of your bakery’s tables, you close the oven and remove your heatproof gloves.
“I really hope you have more maple biscotti because there’s a really cute firefighter and I can’t slip him my number if we can’t fulfill his order,” your employee, Melanie, rambles as she enters the heart of the bakery.
“Just pulled some out of the oven,” you answer. “It’ll be about ten minutes before we can box them, though. Offer to throw in a dozen free cookies or a coffee traveler.”
“Yes, chef!” she calls over her shoulder.
“And stop watching The Bear before work every day,” you murmur as you check the consistency of a new whipped buttercream.
Several years ago, you opened your bakery in Mid-Wilshire, Los Angeles, and remain shocked at how well it has done. There have been celebrities who travel hours just to try your creations based on the good word of a few locals, you’ve had to close at lunch more than once because you ran out of food, and yet you’ve only been in the front of the bakery a dozen times since opening.
You’re shy, passionate about baking, and less of a people person than most business owners, so you spend your days in the back as your dedicated employees create a friendly and welcoming environment for your customers to come in, enjoy the atmosphere, and try a delicious baked good or slow-roasted coffee.
After the morning rush, during which you make three cakes, drizzle white chocolate on your newest biscotti, and decorate sugar cookies, Melanie returns to the back of the bakery. She sighs and leans on a table.
“How’d it go?” you ask.
“Good. Seemed busier than usual, lots of law enforcement,” she explains, peeking into a mixing bowl.
“Those are scraps from cake pops,” you tell her. “Help yourself.”
“You’re an angel,” she sighs. “A walking, shy so not much into talking, angel.”
You roll your eyes and begin folding chocolate swirls into croissant dough. “And the firefighter?”
“He thought they’d love some coffee but refused to accept it without paying. So, I slipped an angel food cake and my number into his bag.”
You nod and continue working on the croissants, but when Melanie continues to watch you, you know there’s more she isn’t saying. Turning, you set aside the spatula and raise your brows.
“My psych professor moved our exam up and I can’t come in tomorrow,” she explains quickly. “I know it’s your busiest day and I’m so so sorry. I can ask around and see if Cass or somebody can cover me.”
You wave your hand and assure, “It’s okay. I’ll cover you. Good luck on your exam, okay? If you want to leave early today to study or get some rest, do that, too.”
“Now I feel worse for leaving you.”
Tim turns his alarm off and sighs. It’s his birthday, and he’s alone. Lucy insisted on bringing cupcakes, and Angela offered to take him to lunch. Tim appreciates their kindness, but it’s not quite the same as having someone to truly celebrate with, besides Kojo, who he wouldn’t trade for the world, of course.
As Tim gets ready, he asks himself what he’d want if he was in a relationship. What would they do that would make today so different? Breakfast in bed is one of the first ideas that pops into his head. So, Tim searches for bakeries that aren’t far out of his way. One five-star option appears on the list, and Tim reads the directions as he walks to his truck.
As Tim walks in, he notices how nice the bakery is. There’s a line, but it moves quickly. He scans the menu on the large chalkboard over the counter as he waits, but he knows what he wants when his eyes drop to the display case.
An employee places another plate in the case, a birthday cake-flavored mini souffle that makes Tim smile. When he reaches the register, he forgets about the cookie that caught his attention.
You take another order and glance at the line. There are two times when you’re so busy it’s hard to remember to breathe, and you’re currently between those. Though you don’t love working here with customers, you do enjoy seeing the smiles on people’s faces when they find their new favorite.
Someone in the line catches your eye. He’s wearing an LAPD shirt, and you assume he’s a higher-ranking officer. He smiles as Mitch places a birthday cake souffle in the display case, and you wonder if it’s his birthday.
“Good morning,” you greet when he reaches the register. “What can I get you today?”
He hesitates for a moment, then asks for one of your jumbo cookies and two dozen chocolate chip cookies. Glancing at the menu, he also adds coffee to his order. You press the buttons for the two dozen cookies and the coffee, but make a note to include the jumbo cookie for free.
“Mitch,” you call when he passes again. “Take over for a minute?”
“Sure thing,” he tells you.
“I’ll grab that for you now,” you tell the attractive cop, whose name you now know is Tim.
“Thanks,” he replies before stepping to the side with his coffee.
You use clean plastic tongs to place thirty chocolate chip cookies in a branded box, then pull a jumbo cookie from the warmer. It’s already boxed, so you take a marker out of a nearby drawer and write Happy Birthday with a little candle drawn beside it. If it’s not his birthday, he’ll think it was the wrong box, but either way, you hope it’ll brighten his day. With the cookies placed in a bag, you hand it over the counter and thank Tim for coming in. You hope you’ll see him again. With your tendency to work in the back and the high number of one-time customers you get, you try not to get your hopes up.
The drive to the station is spent in silence. The radio is off as Tim enjoys what he considers the best cup of coffee. His mind continues to return to you, the cute girl at the bakery, who he could tell was a little shy. Your service was great, but you didn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes or engage in small talk.
After parking in the station lot, Tim pulls his jumbo cookie from the bag. The birthday wishes make him smile, and he shakes his head as he wonders how you knew. Granted, it could have been the wrong box or something, but Tim prefers the idea that you did it special for him. The receipt is on the bottom of the box, and he pulls it away only to see that you gave him the cookie for free. Maybe it will be a good birthday, after all, he thinks.
Tim enjoys half of his cookie, then returns it to the box to save for later. Tim will most certainly be returning to the bakery because your smile and the taste of the coffee and the cookies together are pretty close to perfection.
Tim sets the cookies on a central table in the bullpen and opens the box. He can immediately tell that there are more than 24 cookies, and he shakes his head at your kindness.
“Happy birthday!” Lucy calls as she runs to his side.
“Thanks,” Tim replies, in a better mood than the last decade of birthdays combined.
“You’re back!” you cheer when Tim returns the following morning. Melanie called to tell you her exam went well, but she had to wait for the essay portion to be graded, and you invited her to rest at home one more day while she waited. So, you’re at the front again.
“I am. Thank you for the birthday note yesterday,” Tim replies, smiling. He has a gorgeous smile, you think. “How did you know?”
“I noticed you smile when the birthday cake souffle came out,” you explain softly, shrugging rather than providing more explanation.
“I really appreciate it. My coworkers loved the cookies, too.”
“I’m glad. You want to try something else today?”
Tim smiles, and you unconsciously move your fingers to the side of the register where you can include discounts and freebies.
“What do you recommend?” he inquires.
“Our maple pumpkin biscotti cupcakes are pretty well-loved. I like the chocolate swirl croissant,” you answer. “It’s new, but..”
“Then I’ll take thirty-six of those cupcakes and two of the croissants. On one condition.”
“Yes?” you ask, furrowing your brows.
“Let me pay for it this time.”
You nod once and type in the order. As Tim steps to the side, you begin helping the next customer and whisper to Mitch to give the officer a small coffee with the excuse of preparing it too soon for a pickup order.
“I’m paying for it,” Tim insists after it’s left on the counter.
You ignore him, smiling as you take another order, and Mitch gives him the bag of cupcakes.
“See you,” Tim calls as he leaves.
“Have a good day!” you call after him.
When you return to the kitchen around 10 a.m., you sigh and set out to make something you think Tim will love.
Over the next two weeks, Tim comes in daily. He gets something for the officers at this station or just a treat for himself, and on one busy morning, he says hello and orders a coffee. You look forward to seeing him each morning, finding an excuse to be at the front during his usual time. He is the kindest customer you have ever had, and you want to ask him out. Each morning, you give yourself a pep talk and get encouragement from Melanie or Mitch, then get shy and fail to tell him how you feel. So, you find a way to brighten his day and remind him you’re there and you see him. You slip him a freebie, give him a free coffee, charge him for a smaller size than what you give him, or ask him to test a new item and get back to you. If it’s not on the menu, I can’t charge you was your excuse for the last one.
As far as you can tell, he has noticed you. He comes in and immediately finds you or keeps his eyes on the kitchen door until you exit. Yet, he hasn’t said any more than you have. Eventually, one of you will say something… or so you hope.
You’ve slowly opened up but can’t speak more than a few sentences before you remember who you’re talking to and get shy again. Tim asks about you, how you’re doing, what your favorite menu item is, what you’ve baked recently, and you gladly listen when he tells you about himself in return. It seems like you're getting to know him, but you still want so much more.
One morning, nearly three weeks after meeting Tim, you glance at the clock again. He’s late. Or he isn’t coming. As you leave the counter and return to the kitchen, you make red velvet cupcakes for a large order and try not to think about Tim. You didn’t say anything for three weeks, there is no reason to assume that he had any real reason to come back.
Melanie enters the kitchen, and you look up hopefully, but she shakes her head.
“I’m sure he was just running late or had to go in early. He’ll be back tomorrow,” she says softly.
You shake your head and begin portioning the cake batter into muffin tins. Getting your mind off Tim will be hard; he’s consumed every one of your thoughts for nearly a month, but you have a business to focus on and more customers than the handsome sergeant who was your favorite daily customer until today.
Several hours later, Mitch is on the phone when the chime over the door rings. You wave to him and walk out of the kitchen, then stop behind the register.
“Sorry I’m late,” Tim says.
You remain silent as you look at him. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt, there’s a scrape over his eyebrow that looks recent, and the knuckles on his left hand are darkening. Based on his appearance alone, you assume he was late for a good reason.
“What can I get you?” you ask, breathless, as you move to stand behind the register. “It’s on the house.”
Tim smiles, and you have to remind yourself to listen. He orders your favorite, then places his hands on the counter and leans closer to you. You nod, then blink and ask him to repeat himself.
“Your favorite,” he says.
“How do you…”
“You told me. I remembered.”
You lick your lips before whispering, “Why?”
“The same reason I know that you hate working at the register because you’re shy and it drains your energy. You’d rather be in the back with your recipes and music than up here with customers. The reason I know you own this place but don’t advertise it because you don’t want the attention. All of that, all of you, is why I keep coming back. And I’m really hoping that those things will be why you say yes when I ask if you’ll go out with me.”
You swallow but can’t form words yet. Your answer is yes, of course, it is. When you open your mouth, though, you ask, “Are you okay?”
Tim smiles again and says, “I worked all night and could really use some of your amazing coffee.”
“You missed breakfast?”
Tim extends his arms so his hands are closer to yours and corrects, “I missed you.”
“Yes,” you whisper. “I really want to go out with you.”
Tim nods, then thanks Melanie when she sets a coffee cup on the counter beside him. He sees your number on the side and smiles, but you drop your head momentarily to avoid the embarrassment Melanie provides.
“I promise we’ll do something you’ll like,” Tim assures as his fingers brush yours.
I’ll find the courage to do anything with you, you want to say. Deciding that is more of a second date statement, you merely nod and ask Tim, “Do you actually want my favorite or is there something else you’d prefer?”
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
Kevin Ball x daughter reader ?
An: YESYESYESYES btw this is not a biological daughter so you can be yourself 💖💖😍😍💋💖😍🤓💖🤧 hope you enjoy my lovers 🤍
The Balls
Kevin ball x daughter! reader (THIS IS PLATONIC WE DONT DO THAT INCEST SHIT HERE but reader is female with she/her pronouns 🤭)
warnings: just cursing and suggestive cause its kev and reader is in a secret relationship with lip (just wanted to add that in) and that’s it hope you enjoy my lovers 🤍 miscellaneous masterlist
Summary: Cute moments with Kev and his daughter
posted: June 18,2023
first time you snuck out for a party:
You were walking downstairs to see your dad and your stepmom V dancing and making out in the kitchen. You make fake gagging noises. They turn around to see you.
“Blah! You guys are disgusting.” You say while laughing and getting something to eat out of the fridge.
“Ohhh but Y/N you are going experience this ‘disgustingness’ sooner or later.” Your dad said while going next to you to steal your bread. “Hey give me my bread back!” V laughs while seeing this cute little moment between you two. While you guys are chasing each other your phone buzzed.
V heard this. “Ooo who’s texting us?” She said with a smile. You check your phone. “Oh it’s just my friend Maddie-.”
“Ughh is that the weird one with all the piercings?” Kev asked while being disgusted.
“No that’s Mandy babe.” V answered for you.
“Hey back to my text. Anyway it’s just her asking to go to a party together but don’t worry I’m not going.”
“Hey what! Why aren’t you going?” Kev asked. You just shrugged. “I don’t like parties. I sneak out every time you guys have one in the bar.”
“With who?”
“Li- Liza…” It was Lip but they don’t have to know that. They both narrowed their eyes at you but didn’t say anything. “I’m going to the Gallaghers for a little bit.” They both nodded and you walked to your neighbors.
_____
You were in Lip’s room just talking and giggling with each other. “You know if my parents ask you anything about me sneaking out of the bar that one night, I snuck out with Liza ok?” He just nodded with a confused look on his face. “Do you wanna go to a party later tonight?” You nodded and realized that you already told your parents that you weren’t going.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing it’s just I told them that I wasn’t going.”
“Just sneak out.”
_____
As you were sneaking in after the party, you see your dad under a light.
“I thought you weren’t going to that party Y/N?”
fuck
“Ok before you get mad Liza convinced me and-.” You cut yourself off when your dad held up his hand. “I’m so proud of my little girl!” He got up and squeezed you in a hug. You are so confused. “You’re not mad?”
“No! Wait did you have sex of any kind?”
“No dad!”
“Then I’m not mad!”
when they find out you have a boyfriend:
You guys were sitting in the living room watching tv. And you get a text. You check to see who it is and it’s Lip saying and showing some dirty stuff. You giggle and put your phone face down. V saw this and nudged Kev.
“Why are smiling at your phone Y/N? Who’s texting us?” V asked with a smirk on her face.
“Nothing just Liza sent something funny.”
“Well can we see?” Kev asked.
“No it’s an inside joke.” You said while giggling.
They made a face at each other. You can hear them whispering and your dad gets up to the kitchen. “Y/N can you help me in the kitchen?! I need help!”
As you were getting up V got your phone, put in your password and saw ‘L ❤️’
“This picture definitely is not from a girl.” She whispered to herself.
You turn around since it was way too quiet and you see V on your phone. “Hey!” You run over and snatch your phone. “You have a boyfriend!”
“Oh my god my babygirl has a boyfriend!” Kev said while cheering.
Then you got bombarded with questions.
“Do we know him?”
“No he’s from the north side.”
Then the questions got worse.
“Oh my god you have a rich boyfriend!”
“Does he buy you stuff?”
Why did he have to send that?
when they find out the boyfriend is Lip:
Since your parents were out at the bar. You guys were in your room, making out and smiling at each other. “So they know you have a boyfriend now. What did you tell them?”
“Well I said that he’s from north side and my dad calls you you my rich hot daddy boyfriend.” He let out a little laugh. “And he’s right except for the rich part.” You laugh at the face he makes.
“Now let’s stop talking and keep making out with each other.” You lean in and he smiles into the kiss.
“What the fuck.”
You guys jumped off each other.
“Lip is the rich hot daddy boyfriend?!” Your dad yelled. He ran out to tell V.
“V come in Y/N’s room!”
She ran in and gasped. “Lip?!”
This is the worst.
An: HEYEYEYEYEYE guys ik y’all probably are like ‘this bitch said they were gonna be posting then haven’t posted’ SO IM SORRY im rewriting shocked and scared bc it was fucking terrible but until i post again my lovers 🤍 *hint: it’s a surprise* (i have no idea)
Bottom of the River Masterlist
Tim Bradford was known to be many things. Hardass, stickler for rules, vengeful, angry. Words like these had been tossed around tirelessly to describe him. If anyone met him today, they would think he was born stuck in his ways, a man destined to be encompassed by the negatives in life.
But, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't always like he is now. He wasn't like this when he still had his wife.
Tim Bradford x Reader
Act One - Rebirth
Chapter One - Missing
Chapter Two - Searching
Chapter Three - Preparing
Chapter Four - Discovering
Chapter Five - Shooting
Chapter Six - Questioning
Chapter Seven - Waiting
Chapter Eight - Hurting
Chapter Nine - Bargaining
Chapter Ten - Returning
Chapter Eleven - Remembering
Chapter Twelve - Breaking and Entering
Chapter Thirteen - Risking
Chapter Fourteen - Storing
Chapter Fifteen - Realising
Act Two - Revolutions
Chapter Sixteen - Adjusting
Chapter Seventeen - Talking
Chapter Eighteen - Noticing
Chapter Nineteen - Conversing
Chapter Twenty - Hostage Taking
Chapter Twenty One - Photographing
Chapter Twenty Two - Looking
Chapter Twenty Three - Briefing
Chapter Twenty Four - Conspiring
Chapter Twenty Five - Beginning
Chapter Twenty Six - Listening
Chapter Twenty Seven - Playing
Chapter Twenty Eight - Mirroring
Chapter Twenty Nine - Planning
Act Three - Reaping
Chapter Thirty - Drinking
Chapter Thirty One - Conferring
Chapter Thirty Two - Bartering
Chapter Thirty Three - Skiving
Chapter Thirty Four- Hiding
Chapter Thirty Five - Staging
Chapter Thirty Six - Predicting
Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @rookietrek @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @wonderland2425 @niktwazny303 @the-dino-geek
tags are open, just message or reply to this post
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫
pairing || andy barber x fem!reader
word count || 3,865
summary || you and andy have been sneaking around for months and soon it might catch up to you two
warnings || drinking, throwing up, oral, reader has twins, andy cheating on laurie, oral receiving, oral giving, couch sex, making dinner, eating dinner, over the counter sex, taking care of teenagers, andy buying you stuff, beach house, beach house sex, name calling, breeding, ass fingering, pussy fingering
authors note || PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated
𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑
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Could you do fluff fic for David 'Deacon' Kay with wife reader where brought something from her bakery to the station just to see her husband? Just fluff and romantic. Thanks!!
Of course!! This is such a cute idea! I think there's even potential for a continuation/pt. 2 if anyone is interested.🤍
Edit: Part 2 Here! >
Warnings: just lots of fluff, a bit of teasing, baker!wife!reader. 1.4k+ words.
Picture from Pinterest
Sweet as You
Early mornings with Deacon are your favorite. Since you opened your own bakery after getting married, you and Deacon have grown into a routine of slow, loving mornings with one another.
Today, you find yourself in the kitchen long before the sun rises, testing a new recipe that popped into your mind. Humming, you slide the muffin tins into the oven and wipe your hands on a nearby tea towel.
“You’re up early,” Deacon says, wrapping his arms around you as he enters the kitchen. “You’re supposed to wake me up.”
“You were really tired,” you argue, turning to hug him. “And I had an idea I wanted to try.”
Deacon nods, kissing your forehead as he sways you gently.
“Remember when we went on date nights? When we could stay awake for them?” you ask.
“I do. Although I think I like this version of us much better.”
You kiss the underside of Deacon’s jaw, sighing in contentment. The quiet moments never last long, but they’re amazing while they do.
“I’m supposed to get off around the same time as you on Friday. We can have a long weekend together,” Deacon suggests.
“Sounds perfect.”
“Like you?”
“Like you.”
Deacon smiles as he drops his chin to kiss you, tugging you as close as possible before the oven timer beeps. He releases you to remove your muffins, waiting until you’re safely away from the heat to pull you close again.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you,” you reply. “Take a muffin or two; though I can’t promise they taste good.”
Deacon’s eyes drop to your lips, choosing to kiss you rather than taste a muffin.
✯✯✯✯✯
After the initial rush of opening the bakery, the area grows quiet, and business slows. Mornings in Los Angeles are unpredictable, and as you sit idly, waiting for a customer, you decide to be the customer. Ensuring someone is available to take orders, you begin baking a few crowd favorites and Deacon’s choice. Every cop you’ve met enjoys baked goods occasionally, and your desire to see Deacon is more than enough to encourage you to make more than you can carry to deliver to the LAPD.
Once you’ve finished loading too many boxes into your passenger seat, you cross your fingers that Deacon isn’t out on a call as you drive to the station, setting your sights on S.W.A.T. HQ.
✯✯✯✯✯
Deacon sighs, sitting back against the wall after a round of weight training. It’s been a slow day, and 20-David has been relegated to training and waiting. Hondo finishes sparring with Street and walks toward Deacon, chuckling in amusement as he sits beside him.
“Bored yet?” Hondo jokes.
“Better to be here than risk not getting home to my wife, I suppose,” Deacon hums.
“I don’t suppose, I know. She’d kill me if anything happened to you, so I’m happy to watch you sit here with nothing to do.”
Deacon chuckles before turning suddenly, watching the door. Hondo shakes his head, well aware of Deacon’s sixth sense. Whenever you’re close, expected or not, Deacon knows.
As Hondo expected, you step around the corner, your arms full of boxes from the bakery. Deacon rushes to your side, taking some of the load off your arms.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling when he moves a box away from your face.
“I wanted to see you,” you whisper conspiratorially. Luca joins your other side, and you add, “I figured the best S.W.A.T. team could use a pick-me-up, especially if your day is going as slowly as mine.”
Luca helps you and Deacon set the boxes down. Nearly immediately, you are surrounded by police officers eating your treats. As they thank you and compliment your baking abilities, you watch Deacon take a box off the table before approaching your side.
“Excuse us,” he says, taking your hand in his and leading you away from the hungry cops swarming your delivery.
Leading you into a quiet office, Deacon sets the box down and pulls you into a hug.
“Thanks for coming,” he says.
You return his hug, squeezing him gently as you enjoy his presence again.
“I missed you,” Deacon tells you.
“You saw me a few hours ago.”
“I didn’t get to try a muffin then.”
You smile at Deacon’s teasing, leaning against him to kiss his cheek. He steps back, pulling you with him, as he opens the box of his favorites. Each time he visits you in the bakery (which doesn't happen enough), he buys a box and promises not to share it with his team. He has no problem telling you what he does and doesn’t like, but his favorite taste-testing activity is kissing you while you bake. It's only been a few hours since he last did that, but he still missed you.
“You’re almost as sweet as the new chocolate brittle,” you murmur, brushing your fingers across Deacon’s jaw.
“Only because of you, sweetheart.”
Smiling at his attention and kind words, you duck your head under Deacon’s chin. He wraps an arm around you, rubbing your back comfortingly.
“I love you. And now you have a whole lot of cops who love you too.”
“They love sugar, not me.”
“Good,” Deacon decides. “Because I can’t take them all at once.”
“You wouldn’t have to,” you promise. “I only want you.”
You glance over Deacon’s shoulder, laughing at the sight of the empty box. “Did you really eat all of those while hugging me?”
“I can multi-task. Two sources of sweetness.”
You groan and tip your head back, though your loving gaze betrays your faux tiredness as Deacon pulls you under his arm, leading you back out to see the rest of the empty boxes.
“Do you have more?” Hondo asks, batting his eyelashes as he clasps his hands before his chest.
“Yep. Everything is on sale right now, too,” you answer.
Deacon laughs beside you, and you feel complete. And hungry; those cookies and scones smelled delicious.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Deac,” you whisper, pressing a hand to his chest. “Deacon, handsome, baby, love of my life.”
He sighs, moving closer to you without waking.
“David,” you try, laughing when his eyes snap open. “I made breakfast but you need to get up if you want time to eat it.”
“You called me David,” he says, groggy as he gets out of the bed and reaches for you. “Sorry.”
Chuckling again, you take his extended hand and promise, “You’re not in trouble. You just wouldn’t wake up.”
Deacon nods, letting you lead him to the kitchen and show him the array of food on the table. He tugs you into his lap, telling you he won’t eat unless you do. He drives a hard bargain, but you agree after he kisses the side of your neck and whispers that he loves you.
✯✯✯✯✯
The day after surprising the LAPD with a delivery, your bakery is crowded all day, with police and firefighters coming in and out from opening until closing.
When you unlock the front door, there’s a small group of police officers waiting, smiling as you let them in and ordering what they heard about from their buddies and anything else that looks good.
“You’re Sergeant Kay’s wife?” one of them asks.
“I am,” you answer, passing him a box.
“I see why he talks about you so much.”
You smile at the idea of Deacon talking about you at work, then go to the back to bake more items as you notice you’re running low. Meeting officers who know your husband, those who heard about your bakery in passing, and the firefighters who were jealous you chose the police station over the fire station makes the day go by quickly. Although by the time you close, you’re exhausted.
Walking into your house, Deacon is waiting, and you collapse beside him on the couch, turning your face against his shoulder and releasing all of the tension from the busy day.
“Word get out?” Deacon asks playfully, turning you gently to kiss you.
You nod, returning the kiss and sighing. When Deacon pulls back, you sit against his side, leaning so you can see him.
“Maybe I should just open a bakery in the station. But then the firefighters would get jealous again,” you muse.
“And be within walking distance?” Deacon asks with a huff. “I’d never get anything done.”
“Weekly visits then?”
“I think we could handle that. But make the firefighters pay for it.”
Deacon pulls you into another kiss as he finishes, and you chuckle against his lips, wondering how you got so lucky.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐟𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐫˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫 .𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ andy barber x fem!reader
summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ packing couldn’t be easier
word count ☽˚⁀➷｡ 3134 DO YOU DIRTY SERIES
warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡ PART THREE OF SERIES laurie making a move on andy grr😡, andy packing up a box, talking about tomatoes, shower sexy sex, fingering, praise kink, having to be quiet, andys hand over your mouth yum, breeding, laurie being literally crazy, school stuff, intentions kidnapping, trauma, crying, bad bitch vibes
authors note ☽˚⁀➷｡ PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated
꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎
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Tim Bradford's Princess
Part 3 of Bradford's Princess
Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader
Summary: Being Tim's princess is the best position you've ever held, and the last one you'll ever want. Every little thing he does proves it, even if it means tearing himself apart.
Warnings: the briefest of brief angst, fluff, domestically dominant Tim, makeout sesh, hickeys, Tim offers to ignore a Dodgers game for you
Word Count: 2.7k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules
“Do you like my ring?” Lucy asks.
Tim looks away from the road just long enough to see the simple rose-colored ring on her index finger. He lifts his brows rather than replying.
“You buy any new jewelry recently?” she inquires.
“What are you doing?” he counters.
“Just making conversation.”
“Well, stop.”
“Tim,” she sighs. “We’re in a shop together all day. Give me something.”
“I did. A request for you to stop.”
“Did you propose on Valentine’s Day?”
“No,” Tim answers, more out of surprise at the sudden question than a genuine interest in discussing his personal life. “Not that it’s your business.”
“But you’re going to propose soon, right?” Lucy continues.
“Chen,” Tim says sternly. “Drop it.”
Lucy nods, murmurs something about popping a question, and turns her attention to the radio as dispatch alerts of a nearby carjacking. Tim hits the lights and sirens, attempting to rid his mind of the image of you wearing a ring he put on your finger.
“How’s whipped life treating you?” Aaron inquires as Tim exits the locker room.
Tim stops and turns toward Aaron. He sees Lucy, Nyla, Angela, and Nolan approaching. Sighing, he spreads his arms.
“What is it that you’re all so interested in knowing?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Nyla answers. “Just curious about how everything is going.”
“And that involves using quite possible the least subtle hints about engagement rings?”
“Lucy,” Angela chides.
“How’d you know it was me?” she exclaims. “Nolan could have said something!”
“I’m actually the only one here with a healthy respect for Bradford,” he interjects.
“Well?” Nyla asks, turning back toward Tim. “Are you proposing any time soon? You’re not getting any younger and clearly you’re obsessed with this girl.”
“Which I can’t blame you for,” Angela adds. “It’s nice to see you happy, and if a woman as sweet and beautiful as her wants to be with you despite the age difference, you should do everything you can to keep her close.”
“Whoa,” Aaron says while Nyla grips Angela’s arm, and Lucy’s eyes widen comically.
“You’ve met her?” Nolan questions.
“I ran into them while they were on a date, remember?” Angela replies.
“You didn’t say you met her!” Nyla argues. “Just that you bumped into Tim.”
“I want to see her!” Lucy says.
“Me too,” Aaron agrees. “Tim? You got a picture?”
“Or a free night where we could all get dinner?” Nolan suggests.
“No,” Tim responds.
“You have to give us something,” Nyla says.
“Something about what?” Wade inquires, approaching Tim’s side.
“He won’t show them a picture of the girl who has him wrapped around his finger,” Angela explains, ignoring Tim as he shoots daggers with his gaze.
“I wouldn’t show Aaron, either,” Wade murmurs.
“You’ve seen her too?” Lucy asks.
“Get out of here while you still can,” Wade whispers to Tim. “The rest of you, I’ve got a question about the call in Hancock Park.”
The quiet murmur of the television and soft, glowing candles greet Tim as he walks into his home. He smiles when he sees you on the couch. You look up when the door closes and smile brightly. Tossing your Kindle beside you, you stand on the cushion.
“I missed you,” you say, reaching for Tim’s shoulders.
“You’re going to fall one of these days,” he replies, setting a bag on the floor before he lifts his arms to hold your waist and steady you.
“You won’t let that happen.”
Tim shakes his head in silent admiration of your trust in him.
“I love you,” you say.
“I love you,” he promises.
“How was your day?”
Tim answers you, giving a brief overview of his day. His shoe bumps against the bag, and he stops talking. You always seem more excited to see him than anything he may have with him. He’s come to you with flowers, expensive makeup, concert tickets, and a dress you’d been eyeing for weeks, but you’ve always seen him. That won’t make him stop getting you gifts, though, because every little thing Tim can do for you saves a piece of him, healing from the inside out.
“I have a question,” Tim says, sliding his hands down to your hips.
“I have an answer,” you reply.
Tim waits until you lower onto the back of the couch, sitting with your arms around his shoulders. He pulls the bag up and offers it to you.
The bouquet inside has white roses and baby’s breath, and a blue ribbon circles the trimmed stems. An envelope attached to it bears your name and the Los Angeles Dodgers logo.
“They’re beautiful,” you say.
“I’ve been going to opening day at Dodgers Stadium for years,” Tim explains. His hands run along your sides and down your thighs as he speaks. “I bought tickets: two seats in my usual section. If you wanted to sit somewhere else though, we could. It’s a tradition, and I want you to come with me.”
You remain quiet, watching Tim’s face as you admire his excitement. After dating Tim for as long as you have, it’s no surprise that a moment in the baseball season could mean so much to him, but seeing the joy and anticipation in his eyes makes you happy. Tim has dealt with things you can’t imagine, yet this tradition holds a special place in his life. Now, he’s inviting you into it.
“You don’t have to go,” Tim murmurs. “I don’t even have to go. We can do something else if you want.”
You shake your head adamantly, pressing your hands against Tim’s chest. “You do have to go,” you reply. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t quiet because I don’t want to, you’re just really cute when you’re excited.”
Tim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t let him speak.
“I’d love to go with you,” you answer. “I really appreciate you inviting me to part of your tradition.”
Tim brushes his right hand over the ends of your hair before he cups the back of your head. “You’re part of a lot more than that,” he whispers.
After he parks, Tim hurries around the front of his truck to open your door. His gentlemanly actions and princess treatment of you are nothing new, but you still smile and thank him softly. Tim’s fingers slot comfortably between yours as he leads you into the stadium and to your seats. His preferred section has a great view, and as you sit beside Tim, you briefly wonder how you got so lucky.
“C’mere,” Tim says, tapping your shoulder where his hand rests.
You shift in your seat, and Tim carefully removes your Dodgers hat. Your hair falls onto your neck, and you frown when you realize your hair tie has broken. Tim runs his fingers on the underside of your hair as he pulls it back where it was. You feel another band tighten around it before he carefully pulls your restyled hair through the back of your hat.
“There you go,” he says.
You raise one hand to check it, then smile and take Tim’s hand. “Thank you.”
Tim shakes his head as if it’s no big deal that he just fixed your hair in a stadium full of people. Then, you realize that the black band he wears on his left wrist is gone. He’s offered you hair ties, bobby pins, and lip gloss, but it usually comes from his truck. The fact that Tim carries things you may need is just another in the long list of reasons you love him, and can clearly see he feels the same.
When the game begins, you flip your joined hands so that Tim can stand and cheer as he desires. He pulls your hand off the stadium seat and into his lap, and you realize within a few minutes that you stand with him more often than not. Although Tim treats tonight like a date, it’s his tradition, and you want him to enjoy the night and the game.
“You need anything?” Tim asks after cheering for a good pitch.
Shaking your head, you answer, “We’re here for the World Champs, remember?”
“I think they’d understand,” he replies.
Tim kisses your forehead and takes your hand in his again.
You look up at the blue and white fireworks in awe. Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you lean against him as the night continues.
“You want a picture?” he asks.
You turn toward him, and he gestures to the field, where a large photo of the team is projected as they celebrate their win. Nodding, you open the camera app on your phone and try to get a good angle. Tim removes his arm from your shoulders, bends slightly to circle your hips, and lifts you onto his shoulder. He holds your outfit in place with his free hand as you take the perfect photo. When you’re back on the ground, you put your phone away and smile at Tim.
“Thank you,” you say.
“Any time,” he promises.
When you’re back home, changed out of your jerseys, and preparing to go to bed, Tim traces his finger along your collarbone and then spreads his fingers gently over your throat.
“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs. “For being part of my life.”
“Thank you for letting me,” you reply. “There’s nothing in this world I want more.”
Tim uses his hand, still on your neck, to turn your jaw toward him before he kisses you. As the city continues to celebrate the opening night win, you have much more to celebrate and be thankful for.
The day after opening night, the Dodgers are playing again. This game is different, however, because it’s also the night of the World Series Ring Ceremony. You run your finger along a page while Tim watches the television, pursing your lips as you attempt to understand what you’re reading.
“Do you want help?” Tim asks.
You look up, smile, and shake your head. He nods, then looks back to the TV as he pets Kojo.
“Which color should I use?” you ask.
“Do you have white?” he inquires, leaning to the side to look at the supplies you’ve spread across the table.
“Yes,” you answer. “This one: Marshmallow.”
“I like it.”
The game comes back on, and you thank Tim for his input as you prepare to do the next step. Tim ordered you a nail art kit after you mentioned one in passing, but he found one that was bigger and better. Now, as you spend time together while enjoying different things, you wonder why you didn’t start doing your nails yourself months ago. When Tim’s hands wander to your shoulders, and his warm palms run along your exposed upper back, you decide that no salon will ever compete with this.
“It’s too much,” you say, pouting.
“It’s not,” Tim replies. “You’re the one that said it was the best flavor.”
You stare at the family-sized cheesecake. It is the best flavor the bakery has, but you expected Tim to buy one slice for you to share, two if he thought it looked really good. Not an entire cheesecake.
“How much does that weigh?” you ask.
“Fourteen pounds.”
“Tim!”
Tim chuckles as he lifts the lid. “We don’t have to eat it all tonight. Want your own piece?”
You shake your head vehemently, ignoring Tim’s continued laughter. When you accept a fork and taste the cheesecake, your protests are forgotten.
“Maybe you should’ve gotten two,” you say after offering Tim the last bite.
“Wesley mentioned a dessert tour a while back,” Tim replies. “Would you want to do that sometime?”
“Yeah, that sounds fun.”
You watch Tim’s back as he puts the rest of the cheesecake in the fridge. He dressed up for your date tonight, and you’re convinced he gets more attractive every day. When he turns back to you with his brows raised, you blink to refocus.
“Did you ask me something?” you inquire.
“If you’re free Friday,” Tim answers, looking as if he’s hiding a smile and aware that you are staring at him rather than listening.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” you muse with a sigh.
Tim returns to your side and agrees, “Of course. Have your people let me know.”
Smiling, you tug the bottom of Tim’s shirt. “You are my people.”
“Oh. Should be a short phone call then.”
Tim takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch. Kojo is asleep in his bed, and you laugh as you collapse onto the cushions.
“You look beautiful,” Tim compliments.
“You look handsome,” you reply.
Tim kisses you quickly, then immediately leans in for another longer kiss. He holds your jaw carefully, sliding his fingers into your hair.
“Stunning,” he says, moving to kiss your jaw.
“That’s all you,” you breathe.
“Perfect,” he continues, kissing toward your ear.
“Tim,” you whisper, holding his shoulders.
He pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you smile. As you shift to place your leg over his, you kiss Tim again. He lowers his hands from your face to your waist. When your hands slide down his chest and dip under the hem of his shirt, Tim pulls you closer. His left hand returns to your jaw, his thumb running reverently beneath your cheekbone. You push your hands up his torso until you reach his bare chest. Tim deepens the kiss as you roam, attempting to memorize Tim’s skin through touch alone.
Every kiss with you is memorable, but moments like this, makeout sessions that simply happen and don’t have to lead to anything more, hold a power that Tim will never be able to describe. Your hands on him, your acceptance of his scars – both seen and invisible, and the way you want to be as close as physically possible make Tim fall even deeper in love with you. Tim is your everything, and when you lose yourself in moments like this, being held by the man you love as if he never wants to let you go, everything else fades. You’d spend an eternity in this moment, and that’s part of how you know that Tim Bradford is the one. He’s your forever.
It's unusual for Tim to be home before the sun sets. Today, his shift was changed at the last minute. He was called to the station before 3 a.m. and now has the entire afternoon to spend with you. The early start was worth it, he thinks. Your homemade dinner bakes in the oven as Tim enjoys quality time with you.
“So,” you begin, sitting on the counter. “Last time we made out in here was after your friends called you whipped.”
“Yeah,” he replies, not taking his attention away from his current task.
“Have they said anymore about your treatment of me?”
Tim’s hands tighten around your waist as he stops what he’s doing long enough to say, “My relationships are none of their business.”
You hum, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “But you have relationships with them too… If you’re ashamed of me, just say so,” you joke.
Tim hums against your collarbone. He’d pulled you into a kiss the moment he came through the door, but after you prepared dinner, Tim opted to let you relax while he did the heavy lifting. Hence, the new hickeys. And the work in progress, which Tim reminds you of by running his teeth over the sensitive skin just beneath your collarbone.
“I don’t need to match the bruises you get at work, you know.”
Tim separates himself from your skin and replies, “And you don’t need to meet the people who think I treat you better than them.”
You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, encouraging him to meet your eyes. He sighs as he straightens to look into your eyes.
“I understand the separation,” you begin. “But don’t split yourself into two sides to the point that it hurts. If there’s not room for me and everyone else you care about-”
“Stop,” Tim interrupts softly. “I’ll introduce you when the time is right. I promise.”
You nod, accepting his promise and trusting that he’ll do what’s right. He drops his chin and kisses your jaw. When his second kiss lands open-mouthed, you laugh and pull him up for an actual kiss. He runs his fingers over the darkening mark on your collarbone as his hands rise slowly toward your hair, and you decide that being Bradford’s princess is the best position you could ever hold and the only one you want for the rest of your life.
hey I was wondering if I could request a Wally x batsis!reader x Roy where the two are fighting over batsis and the batboys are taking sides and getting a little too invested in her love life, thanks luv!!❤️
Warnings: references to sex, cursing,
word count: 0.6k
Y/N Wayne was the crush of hundreds of thousands of people and it was obvious why. Her gorgeous brown skin managed to shimmer under the Gotham clouds, her smile that could replace the sun, and she had a heart that was pure. Her track record was not as clear. Having dated a few professional basketball players, a few cheerleaders, and even a few actors, no one really stuck around. Not like Wally and Roy, at least.
Wally had a crush on Y/N from the first time that Dick invited him over. Of course, Y/N was a year or two older than him but that did not stop him from flirting with her. Dick always hit him in the back of the head after he did but Wally thought it was well worth it. Especially, because Y/N was his first kiss, not that he told Dick that. He figured that he would grow out of his childhood crush but he never did. Sure he dated other girls but something about Y/N kept drawing him back.
Roy had a crush on Y/N since Jason broke into her apartment while they needed a place to lay low. He remembers the night like it was yesterday. Jason had slipped the both of them into a rather nice safe house, which ended up being a condo. Y/N was supposed to be at fashion week in Paris but she ended up not going. When she heard footsteps in her apartment, she threw two batarangs at Roy's head and he'd been infatuated ever since. Not to mention, she babysits Lian from time to time and he nearly melts every time he sees them together.
"I'm telling you, she's gonna end up with Roy," Jason spoke as he and Dick were playing Super Smash Bros. It had been a big debate between the two.
"Nah, Wally doesn't have as much baggage. Love the guy but not for my sister," Dick was honest. Wally seemed to be the option with the least difficulties. However, they were Waynes and if their love wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be them.
"Oh, so you'd rather our sister be with someone who regularly disappears into the speed force," Jason countered as he unlocked his special move in the game. He regularly kicked Dick's ass in this game but for some reason, Dick insisted on playing it.
"What are you guys talking about?" Y/N asked as she walked into the home theater. She couldn't find her other siblings so she was stuck with these two for now.
"You need to pick between Roy and Wally," Jason stated as he put the game on pause. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the sudden statement. No one in her family had ever demanded something of her before.
"First of all, I don't have to do shit but stay black and die. Second of all, I am trying," She whined a little.
"I mean it can't be that hard," Dick said hoping to lighten the mood.
"How's Kori? Or are you with Babs?" Y/N asked looking him in his eyes. Dick was taken aback as he put his hand on his chest.
"Damn," Jason mumbled, he was suddenly grateful that his love life was not being broadcasted.
"Low blow, man," Dick sniffled.
"I like them both," Y/N admitted. She wasn't sure which one she liked more. They both were great in their own ways. She also didn't want to be a heartbreaker.
"Which one do you like better?" Jason asked, wishing for a little clarity. He was really hoping she was leaning more toward Roy.
"Well, Wally can vibrate his entire body but Roy does this thing with his tong-," Y/N started. She knew saying this would allow her brothers to leave her alone.
"No! No! I do not need to know," Dick started screaming while covering his ears. He quickly left the theater room and did not bother to look back.
"So, what'd we learn?" Y/N asked while looking at her remaining brother.
"Not to ask about your love life." Jason made a face of disgust while Y/N just smiled.
is this love?
pairings || fake!bf!pornstar!andy barber x pornstar!f!reader
summary || your feelings with your online boyfriend change incredibly once he says those short few words.
warnings || 18+ minors dni, porn, recorded sex, age gap (reader is of age), size kink, mentions of divorce, roleplay sex, mentions of food, spanking, hair pulling, choking, fake dubcon?, forced blowjob, degrading, but also praise?? if that makes sense, oral (m), daddy kink, denied orgasm.
note || hi everyone! this in my entree for the @agentofbarnes agency’s writing challenge!
wc || 2.1k
you didn’t mean to flip your life like this. you didn’t mean to have one of the hottest guys on earth railing you every other day until you were left numb and stupid.
you just answered an ad that asked for an eighteen or over, open to anything. that was when you met andy. before you got into porn, andy say you down and explained everything, made sure you were okay with it all.
you were, he told you that he would be the only one fucking you, and god did that sell you immediately. a massive guy fucking you? you didn’t hesitate before signing your name down.
you videos were shared through multiple websites, reposted by people you didn’t even know. it made you feel nice, wanted. oddly enough, the men thirsting over your body made you feel perfect.
the way andy worshipped you, whispered sweet nothings into your ear, made you feel wanted. you and andy constantly titled yourself as a relationship, but behind closed doors you two were just good friends.
sometimes, you and andy would roleplay, acting as if he was your stepdad, due to him being much bigger than you, or maybe your best friend and you were a virgin.
ever since you met andy, you hadn’t been happier. you were getting railed constantly, and you had someone to go to for advice. sometimes andy would spoil you for the fun of it.
andy divorced his wife two years before you and andy met. he had no one to give his money to, so he decided you were the next best thing. he kept you close to his heart.
you were on his way to his house, he thought of an idea that he wanted to run past you. you accepted, obviously, and picked up your crap and got ready.
you made your way to andy’s house, having your own key had its perks. andy was waiting on the couch, your favourite pizza in front of him. “oh andy, you didn’t have to.” you said with a wide smile.
andy shrugged and smiled as you sat down. “you know i did, gotta keep my girl happy.” his words make butterflies burst in your stomach. you took a slice, the pizza being warm telling you it only came recently.
you took a bite out of the slice, moaning at the taste. andy would be lying if he said his cock didn’t twitch at the sound of your moan. “so, what did you wanna do?” you asked, hand covering your almost full mouth.
andy sat forward and licked his lips. “our step-dad video was the best, it was fun and it had amazin’ ratin’s, so i wanna revisit it.” he said, putting a hand on your knee. you nodded and took another bite.
“but maybe this time— we could do a step dad punishes his daughter?” he asked. you bit your lip and nodded, sitting towards him. “yeah, that sounds good, when do you wanna start.”
andy smiled and turned around to grab his phone. “ehh, i’m free now, actually.” he said, throwing his phone to the side. you nodded and stood up. “i have the cameras set up to.”
you finished your third slice of pizza and walked upstairs with andy following close behind you. “alright so basically, i’ll just find somethin’ like weed and then come punish you.”
you nodded and took off your clothes, getting into a skimpy skirt and tank top you left at his house. andy was standing behind the camera, turning it on and putting on the right setting.
andy fixing the camera turned you on slightly, the way he knew so much about it, how passionate he was, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. andy gave you a smile before leaving the room.
you sat on your phone as you waited for him to come in. the loud bang of the door hitting off the wall made you jump up. “what the fuck is this?!” he yelled, throwing the small packet of weed on the bed.
your stomach jumped as you backed up. “it’s not mine, i was holding it for a friend.” you shrugged, biting your lip. “bullshit! why was it under your mattress?! hm?!” the vein in his neck popped.
fuck, you wanted him to take you right then and there. “i was hiding it so you didn’t blow up like this!” you yelled back. andy rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “stop fuckin’ lying!” he shook his head.
“y’know what? c’mere.” he said, gripping your tank top and pulling you down to him. you gasped as you heard the stitching in your shirt before the entire thing fell apart.
andy chuckled and sat down on the bed, in front of the camera, and threw you over his lap. you gripped his leg and groaned. andy flipped your shirt up and rubbed your ass softly.
his hand roughly connected with your right cheek, before doing the same on your left. you cried out as he spanked you. “count them.” he gripped your hair, pulling you up and whispering in your ear.
you nodded and counted each slap he gave your ass. “thirty.” you cried, the tears on your cheeks falling off your jaw and onto his rough jeans. andy gripped your hair again and pulled you up.
he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans, as well as his boxers. “suck.” he spat as his cock jumped up. you shook your head and tried to move away.
andy gripped the back of your neck and pulled you down. you opened your mouth and allowed his cock to slide inside of your mouth. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he pushed your head down.
you moaned softly as andy thrusted into your mouth. “fuck, should’ve done this sooner.” andy threw his head back. you felt amazing in this setting, andy praising you while pretending to force himself onto you.
andy pulled out of your mouth, giving you time to pretend to run away. you got up and went to move away from him, andy grabbed your ankles and pulled you down.
his hand wrapped around your neck, pulling your head near his. “don’t you dare try to run from me.” he said in your ear. you nodded and looked back at him.
andy pulled down your skirt and ripped off your panties. “daddy!” you gasped, looking back at him. andy chuckled and pulled you closer to him. he took his cock in his hand, rubbing it through your folds.
you let out a quiet moan and bit your lip. andy took this as permission to slide in, giving you no time to adjust. no matter how many times andy would fuck you, his size would always be a beautiful surprise.
“fuck! you’re too big daddy!” you cried out, gripping the sheets. andy shook his head and grabbed your neck. “take it, take it like the slut i know you are.” he spat, his hand tightening around your neck.
as andy started to thrust, you couldn’t help but cry out. if the camera was positioned in another way, it would look like andy was thrusting into nothing, you were so small under him.
andy moved his head to the side of yours, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as more tears flowed down your face. “oh god daddy, so fuckin’ good!” you sobbed.
andy nodded and tightened his grip around your neck. you gasped and your eyes widened. “that’s it, just how i like it.. nice and tight for me.” he chuckled darkly, biting on your earlobe.
you nodded and curled your toes, feeling a knot in your stomach form. “fuck— please, please!” you begged, coming too close for him to stop. but andy didn’t care, he pulled out of you.
you let out a loud whine as you turned back to him. “what the fuck?!” you yelled, sitting up slightly. “good girls get to cum, and from what i remember, you aren’t that good.” andy smirked.
he was teasing you, and you hated it. “fine!” you said, getting up and pushing him onto the bed. “i’ll fuck myself!” you said, straddling him. andy smirked at you taking control, giving you a small nod before gripping your waist.
you prepared yourself before sliding down onto him, your head fell before you threw it back in a loud moan. “yes daddy!” you yelped, being so full that he hit every spot you needed him to.
andy watched as you sunk all the way down, something you barely did, complaining that he was too big and it hurt. “can’t fuck me right? gotta take matters into my own fuckin’ hands.” you shook your head.
andy enjoyed you taking control, andy loved you like this. andy loved you. andy moved his hands from your waist, up your spine and to your neck, pulling you into his body.
you bounced up and down, loud cries leaving your mouth. andy’s hand rested on the back of your neck, holding your face next to his. “i love you.” he whispered.
what? you didn’t want to slow down, being too close to your orgasm to stop now.. but did he just say that? did andrew stephen barber just tell you that he loved you?
your orgasm hit you like a truck, massive, but a surprise. you moaned out as your eyes were glued to the back of your head. andy moaned as you clenched around him, a sound you loved.
you pulled off him after your orgasm and let him jerk off onto your tummy. you gave him a small smile and fell beside him. “i never want to see you with drugs ever again.”
awkwardness was laced in his tone as he stood up to turn off the camera. you didn’t care about anything at that moment, you just had a mind blowing orgasm and that’s all that mattered.
you didn’t realise you fell asleep until you woke up to a dimly lit room and andy turning a page of his book beside you. “did i wake you? sorry.” he mumbled, marking the page and closing the book.
“you’re okay.” you whispered, giving him a small smile. andy smiled and moved a strand of your hair from your face. you looked down, noticing your favourite shirt that andy wore.
you looked back up at him and turned over to your side. “how long was i asleep for?” you asked, yawning as you sat up. andy shrugged and checked his watch. “two hours, give or take.” he said.
a knife could cut through the tension between you two. you nodded and sat up. “i’d better get home, talk tomorrow?” you asked. andy shook his head and got out of the bed.
he was wearing nothing but his boxers, something andy never did. “i’ll drive you home, you just woke up.” he insisted, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt. you nodded and got up after him, walking out to his car.
the silence in the car was both awkward but comfortable. “this—“ you started as he pulled up to your house. “i’m sorry for saying i loved you.” andy blurted, cutting you off.
you gulped and looked over at him with wide eyes. “well, um, i was trying to ignore that.” you said, nodding your head slowly. andy groaned and shut his eyes, throwing his head back.
“i didn’t want to hurt you— or get myself hurt by replying to it and—“ you started. you stopped yourself when andy shook his head. you bit your lip and slowly sank in your chair.
andy opened his eyes and continued to look forward. “you’ve been nice to me, real nice, and i don’t wanna lose you cause you think i’m a weirdo— y’know an old guy liking a young girl with so much ahead of her.”
you tried to hold back a smile as he explained himself. “i do like you, and i’ve liked you for a while but i thought that was just because i was going through a divorce and needed to distract—“
it was your turn to cut him off, and you did it with a soft kiss. “i know we kiss almost all the time, but that was genuine, i’ve liked you for a long time too.” you looked into his eyes.
andy smiled and kissed you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth almost immediately. his hand rested on your cheek, unbuckling his belt. “i love you, i really love you.” seeing andy smile made your heart jump.
“i really love you too, andy.” you said, kissing his cheek. “i gotta go feed my cat, i’ve been out for a while.” you nodded. andy nodded and sat back in his seat. “you can come in too.” you said as you got out.
andy nodded and waited a few seconds for you to turn away from the car. andy danced around slightly like a high schooler that got his first kiss before getting out of the car.
The Better, Hidden Half
Requested Here!
Part 2 Here >
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)
Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.
Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?
A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍
Word Count: 3.9k+ words
Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.
Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”
Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”
Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”
Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.
“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”
“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”
“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”
They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.
✯✯✯✯✯
7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.
Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.
As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.
✯✯✯✯✯
Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.
Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.
“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.
“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”
“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”
“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.
“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.
“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.
“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”
“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.
“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”
“And what bag is that?”
“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”
“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”
“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”
Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’
“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.
“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”
Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.
“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.
“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.
The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.
“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.
Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”
Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”
“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”
“Tim-“
“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”
Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.
“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.
✯✯✯✯✯
While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.
“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.
“Did you get any blood on you?”
“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”
“Smart man.”
Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.
“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.
“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.
“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”
“Can you describe his condition?”
“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”
“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.
“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”
Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”
“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”
Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”
“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”
“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.
“Yes, I do.”
“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”
“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.
Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.
“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.
“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.
“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”
Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.
✯✯✯✯✯
Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.
Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”
While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.
He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”
“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.
“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"
"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”
Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”
“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“
“Don’t think like that. It’s-“
“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”
“What are you saying?”
Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”
“Anything.”
“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”
“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.
Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.
“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”
“You’ve never mentioned her.”
“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”
“I get that. What’s she like?”
Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”
“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”
“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.
“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”
“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.
“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.
Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.
“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”
Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”
Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.
“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”
“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”
Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.
“He’s okay,” Angela begins.
You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”
“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”
“Who did?”
“His rookie.”
Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.
“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.
“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.
“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”
“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.
“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”
“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.
“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.
“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.
Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.
“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.
Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.
“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.
You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”
Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”
You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.
“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.
In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.
Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.
Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.
Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.
“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”
“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.
“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.
“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.
“Where is he?”
She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.
“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.
You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.
“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.
Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.
“I’m sorry,” he begins.
“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”
Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”
You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”
“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”
Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”
Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.
“I love you,” Tim says.
“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”
“Ready to meet the rest of my-“
“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.
“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.
“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”
“How clean is the house?”
You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.
“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”
“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”
You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”
Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.
Always Time for You
Requested Here!
Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader
Summary: After you move to Los Angeles to escape an abusive relationship, you meet Deacon Kay and fall in love. When your ex arrives in Los Angeles, you have to tell someone, but don't want to worry Deacon.
Warnings: former abusive relationship, depictions of domestic violence, abuse, angst, fluff and comfort (none of the SWAT men do anything abusive, it's an ex!)
Word Count: 2.5k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
The trip across the country is long and slow, each day spent holding your bruised cheek out of view and looking over your shoulder. You promise not to let your guard down when you finally reach Los Angeles. Surrounded by high rises and over 4 million people to blend in with, it would be easy to think you’re safe. But you know better.
Your little apartment in a quiet corner miles from downtown is nice, if not lonely. As you create a new life, you’re unbothered by the solitude, too concerned with being safe than having friends.
And then, in a moment, all of it changes.
1 Year Later
“Excuse me,” someone says behind you.
You flinch when a gloved hand raises beside you, then step out of the way and apologize to the officer. He nods once, then joins his team on the other side of the road. The police presence in your neighborhood today is too familiar. The last time you saw this many cops in one place was because you called them, and they barely made it in time.
Another approaching siren pulls you from your memory, and you step back from the curb. Something stops you, a feeling that going home would not be the right choice.
One of the SWAT officers looks at you and points in your direction. You freeze, remembering the officer who asked Well, did you tell him to stop? You provoked him; you shouldn’t do that if you already know what he’s like. When you look up again, two officers are walking toward you. Chewing the inside of your bottom lip, you hope they’ll walk past you.
“Hi, I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay, LAPD SWAT,” the officer who walked past you earlier says. “Do you live around here?”
“I do,” you answer softly.
“Would you mind answering a few questions?” the other officer, whose nametag says Street, asks.
“Sure,” you agree. “If I can.”
Deacon pulls a picture from his pocket, a folded piece of paper that he straightens before asking, “Have you seen this car around here?”
You lean closer, fighting against your memories, and answer, “I saw it last night. It sat across the street with its lights on from around 8 until midnight.”
“What made you notice it?” Street asks.
“The lights,” you explain. “When it turned, they lit up my living room, then didn’t go off.”
“Left around midnight, you said?” Deacon clarifies. You nod, and he points east to ask, “That way?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks for your help.”
They step back, and you ask, “Um, is it safe? Will he be back or is there anything I should be worried about?”
Deacon smiles and assures, “It’s safe. We’re going to get him.”
As he joins Street to return to Black Betty, Street asks, “We don’t know that; we’ve been looking for two days.”
“And we’ll find him today.”
The next night, someone knocks on your door, and you tiptoe across the room to look through the peephole. When you see Sergeant Deacon Kay, you open the door but hold it as you look at him.
“Hi,” he greets. “I just wanted to let you know we caught him.”
You sigh and whisper your gratitude.
“And… I came to ask you out.”
Smiling, you nod, and for once, you don’t think about your last relationship and let yourself hope for something new, something better.
1 Year Later
“Good morning,” you greet as you answer the phone.
“It is now,” Deacon replies. “How are you?”
“I’m better now.”
You open the door to leave for work but stop when you see a package on your doormat. Deacon says something, but the words across the top of the box are familiar, too familiar. You squat to see it better; the We’re back note is split by the box pulling open. You lift the flap with one finger and see a rope curled tightly inside, with two knots to form hand restraints. You jerk backward, falling onto the floor as you scramble from the box. Your phone hits the floor, and Deacon yells as you reach for it.
“Hey,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I’m okay, sorry, I got startled and dropped my phone.”
“Everything okay?” Deacon asks.
“Yes,” you lie. “Everything is fine.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
When you reach your car, a pack of matches is tucked under the windshield wipers, and you throw them into the backseat before slamming the door closed and locking it. Someone is close, and the fear you thought you’d left behind hits you like a train when you realize who it is.
Deacon knocks on your door an hour before your date, but he’s still in his uniform.
“I’m so sorry,” he begins. “I have to work overtime, for- for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll have time to make it up to you, but I will. I promise I will.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Be safe and call me when you can.”
Deacon leans in, ignorant of how your muscles tense before he touches you. He kisses your cheek, whispers another apology, and leaves. As he drives away, you see a knife tucked behind the plant by your door. Rather than spend the extra time with the door open to look at it, you close and lock it. Your breaths grow heavy as your chest tightens, but you have no proof that he’s nearby. You can’t tell the police, and Deacon will get stressed with overtime, so you have to wait for this to pass on its own.
The following week, almost ten days after the first box arrived, you call in sick to work. Sitting in your living room, you watch the front window. You can see your porch and car. By noon, you haven’t seen anyone. Slowly, you open the door, and there’s a boxing glove on the first step, with what looks like dried blood across where the wearer’s knuckles would be. You feel a pressure building in your eyes and know that the terror you experience will kill you from the inside if you don’t tell someone or do something.
“Where are you?” you whisper brokenly, looking across the street but seeing nothing.
Your car catches your attention, a baseball bat propped against the back door, and a spray-painted X marking your door. You know the paint will draw attention, so you find a sponge and car wash in your storage closet before you hesitate at the door. If he was close enough to do this without being seen, he’s close enough to do something to you.
You set the cleaning supplies down and take your phone from your pocket. Scrolling past Deacon’s contact, you text someone else and then sit by the door, staring out the window as you wait for him to arrive.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Luca asks when he sees your blotchy cheeks and blood on your palms, crescent-shaped marks created by digging your nails into your palm.
“He’s here,” you confide in him, struggling to breathe evenly. “Luca, he’s so close.”
“Who?” Luca asks, taking your wrists and looking into your eyes. “Who is he?”
“My ex, he- he hurt me, Luca, and now he’s here. There’s been knives, matches, rope… he keeps leaving stuff he used to use.”
“Use?” Luca repeats, his voice dropping. “To… to hurt you?”
You nod, then press against his forearms to plead, “You can’t tell Deacon. He’s so stressed with the overtime; I haven’t even talked to him in a week.”
“He needs to know.”
“No, no, Luca, promise that you won’t tell him. I’ll tell you if anything changes or if I actually see him, but I had to tell somebody.”
Luca hesitates, then nods. “Have you seen anything?”
“No,” you admit, dropping your head as a tear rolls over your cheek. “Just the stuff. And the notes… they sound like him, but they don’t look like his handwriting. What am I supposed to do, Luca?”
Luca shakes his head and pulls you into a hug. It’s not the same comfort you can get from Deacon. The realization that you can’t do anything until he’s close enough to see increases your terror to let you finally cry.
Three days after confiding in Luca and thanking him with dinner for cleaning your car, you decide to visit Deacon at the station. You must see him, so you steel your nerves and open the front door. A small pile of weapons and notes is built against your door, and it topples as you step out. You rush to your car and don’t take the time to remove anything from the windshield until you stop at a gas station a block from the station. Shoving the notes, matches, and short length of heavy chain into the trashcan without more than a glance, you hope that Deacon has time to talk. You won’t tell him anything, but you will ask for one of his hugs that make everything better.
As you round your trunk, a truck speeds in behind you. Suddenly, your arms are gripped tightly, and someone pulls you back quickly. Someone else pulls black fabric over your head, and you are shoved into the back of a car before you can think to scream.
“Not a word,” a man says, pushing a cold gun barrel against your ribs.
“We’ll do it,” Deacon offers. “Luca and I can drive by the residence in an unmarked car and bring back a report of what we can see.”
“Do it,” Hicks replies. “Go the long way around, check gas stations and restaurants in the area, too. We need to find her.”
Deacon leads Luca to his unmarked Charger, and Deacon takes the driver’s seat. As they drive toward the suspect’s residence, Deacon stops at a red light beside a gas station.
“Isn’t that your girlfriend’s car?” Luca asks, pointing to a gas pump.
Deacon’s brow furrows as he puts the car into reverse and backs into the station lot. He parks behind your vehicle, and he and Luca walk alongside it, then look over the top at each other.
“I’ll check inside,” Luca offers as Deacon dials your number.
“Thanks,” Deacon replies.
Your phone goes to voicemail, and Deacon looks down in time to see the screen light up in the center console. Luca runs out of the convenience store and calls, “Deac, get in here!”
Deacon runs into the store, and Luca asks the employee to play the security footage again. They watch as three men take you, and Luca takes a shaky breath before he says, “Deacon, there’s something you should know.”
“Time to go home,” one of the men in the car coos.
You stiffen, scared that by home he means they’ll hand you over to your ex. The car lurches to a stop, and you slam into the back of the seat before two sets of hands steady you.
“Well, look who it is.”
Shifting, you try to block out your ex’s voice, but knowing he can see you while you can’t see him makes your heart race and your chest tighten painfully. When he slips his hand under your fabric hood and runs his fingers along your jaw, you jerk backward. The man beside you shoves you forward so your hood can be ripped off.
“Don’t do that again,” your ex demands lowly, holding your jaw tightly.
You look around, hoping to see someone else around who can help you.
“You know the police couldn’t help before.”
“We did what you asked,” the man driving says.
“And? You’ll get paid when I pay you.”
With the distraction, you lean away from your ex. He slides his fingers into your hair when he notices the distance, pulling you forward by the roots. You gasp at the pain, but when you’re shoved out of the car and fall at his feet, suddenly, you’re the same scared girl you were before you ran. There is no escape, and no one knows to look for you.
“Gas pedal is on the right, Street!” Deacon yells from the backseat.
“We’ll get there,” Street promises, remaining patient even as he faces Deacon’s anger and fear. “We need the surprise.”
Deacon’s leg bounces as they approach the tradeoff spot in the note they found from your ex to the men who snatched you at the gas station. Your safety is the priority, but Deacon knows Hondo is worried about what he’ll do to your ex.
“I’m getting her out of there,” Deacon says. “You focus on the criminals stupid enough to email each other with their plans.”
“You got it,” Hondo responds. “Stay liquid.”
As they pull into the parking lot, Street parks by a fence where they can see the black SUV from the gas station and a grey Chevelle beside it. Street exits the driver’s seat in his civilian clothes and waves to the man standing at the back of the SUV.
“Hey, man! I’m trying to get to the road with the stars, uh, Walk of Fame or something? This city is so confusing, can you tell me where to go?” Street calls.
“Yeah,” the man replies, turning so Street can see him. “Away from here.”
Someone groans, and Street says, “Yeah, sure. You okay?”
“Better than you’ll be if you don’t go.”
Street puts his hands up, then smiles. “You’re not very observant.”
Luca and Hondo approach the car from the other side with their guns raised. As they yell commands, three men surrender and move to the side, but your ex remains beside you.
“Step back,” Street demands, moving directly behind him. “These guys have a bet going on how quickly I’ll get impatient today. I’m thinking about letting one of them win. Walk toward my voice.”
“You always were treated like you’re more important than you are,” your ex tells you. “Same cop,” he muses, looking at Luca. “No one wants you.”
“Yep, I’m impatient,” Street decides. He holsters his gun, grabs his collar, and hauls him backward.
As your ex hits the concrete, he begins fighting, so Street drags him across the rocky surface while Deacon rushes to your side. You hear Hondo radioing for backup but focus on Deacon as he kneels beside you.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
You nod and sit up carefully. Leaning against Deacon, you hug him tightly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Deacon asks softly, brushing his thumb over a bruise on your jaw.
“You were already working overtime, and honestly… I thought I was going crazy,” you admit. “He was leaving stuff and notes, but I never saw him, so I didn’t know.”
“Babe, I always have time for you,” Deacon assures you. He kisses your forehead and adds, “Especially if you’re in danger.”
“He… I moved to LA because of him,” you whisper. “He hurt me. A lot.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to deal with all of this alone, but you can tell me. Please tell me.”
“I will,” you promise. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“I love you.”
“I love you. I miss you.”
“I’m done with overtime; I’m coming home with you.”
You don’t argue, giving in to your craving for Deacon’s safety and comfort. He’ll always be with you, have time for you, and love you through everything and with all of your scars.
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