Once In A Lifetime
Once in a Lifetime
The Rookie x SWAT documentary-style (reader insert) crossover
Summary: Mid-Wilshire opens a case that requires seven police departments, numerous SWAT teams, and an unusual witness. As the public watches a documentary all about the case and the people involved, they see more than crime.
Warnings: narration is in italics, injuries and blood, character death, discussion of child abuse, depiction of cults/brainwashing, fake tweets, I probably went overboard, fluff and comfort at the end I promise
Word Count: 4.2k+ words
A/N: This idea struck me last night and I had to do something with it. I hope someone enjoys it, but I'm never using a tweet generator again because it took an embarrassing amount of time.🤍
What if a once-in-a-lifetime moment depended on a single decision, rather than a plethora of them?
“I didn’t call the police because it’s none of my business. I’ve seen how she treats her kids, why would I interject my family into that when I don’t have to?”
What if the one moment that could change everything was slipping away before you arrived?
“I’ve got a pulse! As soon as we’re code 4, I need an R/A standing by!”
What if the world stopped for your once in a lifetime?
“The 405 has been shut down between Signal Hill and Alameda Street. This sudden, unexplained closure, in conjunction with the heavy law enforcement presence throughout Los Angeles, has citizens alert and concerned.”
What if the only person who can save you is the result of dozens of perfectly aligned once-in-a-lifetime moments?
“7-Lincoln-100, I’ve located another-“
This is Once in a Lifetime.
Sergeant Tim Bradford, Officers Chen, Nolan, Juarez, and Smitty enter different areas of the Mid-Wilshire police station. Detective Lopez and her husband, attorney Wesley Evers, take a seat in their home, while Detective Nyla Harper and Sergeant Wade Grey sit at their respective desks. Each officer has been interviewed for a documentary before, but the mood is distinctly somber as compared to the other episodes.
“Hi, I’m Alex, host of ‘It’s All Bloody (and) True,’” the man behind the camera introduces. “Today’s episode is about the case involving eight different police departments, four specialized units, a major highway closure, and - correct me if I’m wrong - a series of once-in-a-lifetime decisions and opportunities that seem mathematically impossible.”
“Mathematically impossible?” Wesley repeats. “Try completely impossible. On paper, there is no way this case should have lined up the way it did.”
“Not to say it was easy,” Angela adds. “I’ve been on the job for a long time, and this was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“As the veteran officer on this case,” Wade continues from his office, “I agree with Detective Lopez. Everything g about this was unprecedented.”
“I’d like to start with day one of the investigation,” Alex requests. “Take us through the first moment, the call, and how this came into your station and became your duty.”
Lucy answers, “911 dispatchers received a call from a distressed man claiming that his neighbor had gone missing.”
“A call that raised concern for more reasons than his distress, correct?”
“Yes,” Sergeant Bradford says. “The caller mentioned the name of his neighbor’s employer.”
ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: CALLER She- she went to work like she always does, but this was days ago. It would’ve been… Monday, no Tuesday because my wife was making donuts for her board meeting. Eileen called her in at some crazy time. DISPATCH You said Eileen? Is that your neighbor’s boss? CALLER Yes, yes. Eileen Indigo, I believe. She’s made her do crazy things before, but she needs the job, you know? I’m just really scared because she’s never done anything like this before and Eileen has some serious issues. DISPATCH Officers have been alerted and will be performing a welfare check, sir.
“You responded to the welfare check?” Alex inquires.
“We did,” John Nolan replies. “There was no answer at the door, so we surveyed what we could see and there was no sign of anyone inside, of forced entry, or any foul play.”
“Without that, there’s no probable cause for us to enter,” his rookie, Celina, adds. “Although there was a feeling of urgency surrounding her residence.”
“Is that- is that something you look for as police?”
“Of course not,” Tim snaps. “But we’re human, we have emotions. We notice things about how people and places feel.”
“Unfortunately, Officer Juarez’s empathy and intuition wasn’t enough for us to move forward,” Lucy continues. “And without any sign that something nefarious had happened, all we could do was post a missing person’s report.”
“But the case stood out?” Alex guesses.
“Right,” Tim agrees. “Because of Eileen Indigo.”
PREVIOUS INTERVIEW FOOTAGE: “Ms. Indigo,” Detective Harper greets. “We have a few questions about your relationship with Devon Taylor.” “There isn’t one,” the young woman replies, picking at her shirt rather than looking at the cop across from her. “He left six months ago. During our kids’ birthday party, can you believe that?” “Ma’am, we located Mr. Taylor. He’s deceased, and his body was dumped in a viaduct.” The woman sits back in the chair, straightens her shirt, and asks, “Did he have cash on him? I gave him $50 for a new flat iron before he ran out.”
“So, why did the mention of her name spark interest?" Alex asks. "Taylor’s case had been closed, his best friend - who turns out to be Ms. Indigo’s, uh…”
“Sidepiece?” Angela suggests.
“Mister?” Wesley adds. “There’s not a direct mirror of ‘mistress,’ is there?”
“Yeah, the friend got jealous that Indigo hadn't left her husband and offed him. What made us remember Indigo was the complete lack of care,” Grey explains.
“That and the concerns about her treatment of their children,” Nyla comments.
“Surely if she was mistreating her children, it would have been uncovered during the duration of your investigation?” Alex hypothesizes.
“Not our investigation.”
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
“Right, there were eight police stations involved in this case,” Alex remembers.
“There are only 21 stations in Los Angeles, for reference,” Wesley says. “Seven of the stations working this case were in LA. So, one-third of the officers were directly tied to this case in some capacity.”
“And the introduction of Eileen Indigo introduced this collaboration?”
“Not exactly,” Tim begins. “When we began looking into Indigo, it was only in regards to how she was treating our missing person. And, as we began looking into that, we discovered past complaints and CPS reports of her children being mistreated.”
“And?”
“CPS found nothing,” Nolan replies.
“Their investigations - plural - all determined that the children were in good health, being cared for, and not in any immediate danger,” Celina states.
“So, you went back to square one,” Alex says, flipping a page of his notes.
“Not at all,” Wade interrupts. “We were still trying to piece together the caller’s claim that Indigo mistreated her kids and her employees when we received a call from another station.”
“And he dropped a bombshell,” Nyla deadpans.
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
“Would you mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.
“Sure. I’m Commander Robert Hicks, LAPD SWAT,” the man seated in a different station greets.
“Upon learning that Mid-Wilshire was looking into Eileen Indigo, you called their watch commander. Why?”
“After the initial report of child abuse, my 20-David SWAT team was dispatched to Indigo’s residence. Responding officers reported that she had barricaded herself and her children inside. My people got there, got in, and found that Indigo and her children were asleep, completely safe and unharmed.”
“And that didn’t bring more questions?”
“Of course it did,” Hicks argues. “There’s just procedure to follow, and even though my team wanted to get to the bottom of what happened and find out more about Indigo, we can’t just dive into people’s background because we feel like it.”
“When you called Grey, were you planning to offer your team to be on standby?”
“No, and I didn’t right away.”
“When was it decided that SWAT would be beneficial to working the case?”
“After the next call,” overlapping voices reply.
BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Roll Call Room: “This is Sergeant Harrelson, Sergeant Kay, Officer Luca, Officer Tan, and Officer Street,” Wade introduces. “They will be on standby during the visit to Ms. Indigo’s home. If a warrant is issued, they will serve it.” “We have experience with Indigo and have been on the home before, so we’re happy to offer any assistance we can,” Harrelson adds. “What if she lets us search the house and we don’t find anything?” Officer Juarez asks. “It’s a missing persons’ report, there’s not much we can do,” Nolan answers. “One thing at a time,” Wade reminds them.
“Not only did you secure a warrant because of a subsequent complaint, but you felt it necessary to bring in five additional departments from different stations,” Alex muses. “What did you find that led you to take such extreme measures?”
“Let’s just say, I drew up the affidavit, and while you’re only required to provide the judge with probable cause to believe evidence is present in the location being searched, my document was nearly 50 pages in length,” Wesley shares.
“And the judge only read the first page,” Angela adds.
Nyla then says, “The judge signed not only the warrant for her office but gave us a warrant for every piece of real estate she had under her name. We found five additional residences and several acres of land outside of Palm Springs.”
“Making Palm Springs PD the third station to join what was turning into a hunt for the missing woman,” Lucy connects. “It was also at this point that Sergeant Grey knew we needed to serve all six warrants simultaneously, so we needed more hands.”
“In addition to recruiting Metro, patrol, and SWAT officers from our sister stations,” Wade adds, “we also put out a nationwide BOLO. It was Thursday afternoon at this point, so we were two days past when the 911 caller had last seen his neighbor alive.”
“With a plan to raid Indigo’s office and homes at the same time, you went out in teams,” Alex says. “But most people who’ve had A&E any time after 2004 know that the first 48 hours of missing persons investigations are vital, and after that, the chances of finding them alive go down.”
The camera shows Nyla, usually the effortlessly funny detective, sigh deeply before she says, “That’s what made the next part so hard.”
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
Alex finds a paper with names on it, then says, “This is the team that raided Eileen Indigo’s office in California Heights. Going around the table quickly, we have Commander Bob Hicks, 20-David SWAT members Sergeants Harrelson and Kay, Officers Luca, Tan, and Street, as well as Detective Harper, and Officer Chen. Additionally, Metro Sergeant Tim Bradford.”
“And I was the one who chose to close the 405,” Wade offers.
“As someone who worked for LBPD, I continue to support that decision,” Street says. “The office building - which was a converted house - backed up to Orange Avenue, which crosses the 405 and has its own on-ramp. Had she been able to get on there and disappear into car-pocalypse, we’d be telling a different story right now.”
“That was surprisingly logical,” Harrelson - who invited everyone to call him Hondo before the cameras started rolling - muses.
“So, the 405 is closed for a good reason, but why leave the public hanging?” Alex wonders.
“To protect ourselves and others,” Lucy says. “If she knew we were coming, who’s to know what she might have done.”
“She would’ve run,” Tim adds from his commander’s office. “Or, worse, she would have harmed the people close to her to throw us off her scent.”
“You said ‘the people closest to her.’ Raiding Indigo’s office made this case about more than a missing woman,” Alex editorializes.
BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Eileen Indigo's Office Building: “LAPD,” Hondo calls quietly as a woman sitting at the front desk raises her hands in shock. “Get down on the ground. How many people are inside?” “Just Ms. Indigo, her assistants, and the trigon team,” she whispers.
PREVIOUS 911 CALL: CALLER I don’t know what exactly she’s doing! Her children are outside in the cold reciting something about tricycles, maybe? She has a paper in her hand and when they say the wrong word, she threatens them! DISPATCH Officers and EMS are en route.
“Tell me more about Trigon,” Alex requests.
“I wish we could,” Angela replies.
“Indigo’s trigon team continues to be a mystery,” Wesley explains further. “There’s real estate holdings with each team member listed as a beneficiary, they’ve got a joint bank account, but we can’t find any real evidence of them actually doing anything together.”
“As far as we could tell,” Tim begins, looking away from the camera quickly, “the so-called trigon team was some sort of attempt at starting a cult. The uh, ‘members’ were evaluated by a psychiatrist, who believed there had been a degree of brainwashing involved.”
“When we connected the 911 call about her – how do I put this? – initiation of her children, we knew there was more to Indigo’s business than we anticipated,” Lucy says. “But, at the moment during the raid, we were in no way interested in getting these answers, just finding the missing woman and getting cuffs on Eileen.”
“Without an arrest warrant,” Wade reminds Alex and his viewers. “We had to find probable cause to legally arrest her, and though the judge understood our evidentiary concerns and issued the search warrants, he didn’t have enough to give us an arrest warrant.”
“So, you went in looking for something you could arrest her for?” Alex asks, suddenly sounding accusatory.
“No,” Tim snaps. “We went in looking for a missing person because there was more than enough evidence that Indigo had engaged in threats of violence in and out of the workplace.”
“But isn’t workplace mistreatment a civil matter?”
“Most cases are,” Wesley agrees. “But when it grows more severe; when threats progress to actual physical assault, it becomes a criminal offense under California law.”
“There was no evidence of that included in the affidavit.”
“That’s because Palm Springs PD hadn’t found her trophies,” Nyla responds.
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Palm Springs Property: “Clear!” an officer calls. “We’re code 4.” “I got something!” another voice alerts. A sergeant passes through the barricade and kneels by the recently disturbed dirt. A large metal box protrudes from the shallow hole, and he radios for a forensics team. When they arrive, the box is photographed before it is removed and opened. Inside, there are dozens of disturbing photographs (which have been blurred for viewers of the documentary). “Get Sergeant Grey on the phone!” someone yells.
“When I received the call, the teams serving warrants on her LA properties had already left the station,” Wade explains. “I alerted the senior officer at each location and allowed them to distribute that knowledge as they saw fit.”
“It ended up being completely irrelevant,” Sergeant ‘Deacon’ Kay interjects. “When we reached the conference room of Indigo’s office, we had enough to arrest her.”
“The trigon team was…” Angela pauses, attempting to find the right word.
“Cataloging,” Nyla finishes for her. “They were sorting new, additional pictures that put Indigo not only at several crime scenes but explained how she had evaded CPS and past officer visits in the past.”
“She was mistreating her children?” Alex translates.
“Not physically,” Celina answers.
“Though there were early signs of that progression during the children’s examinations,” Nolan adds. “No, she preferred psychologically abusing her children. Brainwashing, manipulation, a sick sort of training, whatever you want to call it, she forced it upon her children.”
“And her employees, as it proved with the trigon team.”
“So, you find the trigon team, arrest them with relative ease, and then what happens?” Alex asks.
“It sounded like the world was ending,” Lucy answers.
BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Building: “Street, Bradford,” Hondo calls, “with me.” Street and Tim fall into line behind Hondo and continue moving through the narrow hallway. As they pass Indigo’s open door and empty office, a sudden, deafening noise fills their ears and the microphones on their body cameras. Every officer ducks forward instinctually and attempts to drown out the noise. “It’s coming from the garage!” Tim yells. “7-Adam-19, we need backup in the kitchen! Taking fire!” Lucy radios. “Go!” Street tells Hondo, “We’ll handle the garage.” Hondo nods and moves through the noisy house to assist the officers being fired at. “Eyes on Indigo!” Nyla alerts. “Moving from the kitchen toward the master bedroom!” Tim taps Street’s shoulder before they enter the garage. As the door opens, the noise grows louder. “What the-“ Street mumbles. “Go!” Tim yells. “Shut it off!” Street nods, then pulls the strap on his gun across his chest. With his hands free, he grabs the jackhammer being held upright by 5-gallon buckets filled with sand and water. As he tries to find the right button to turn it off, Tim circles the car slowly before he drops to his knees and slides his head and shoulders beneath it. “Eileen Indigo is in custody,” Nyla radios after the jackhammer silences. “Back bedroom is barricaded,” Luca adds. “Hold for entry.” “Bradford, what are you doing?” Street inquires. Tim pushes himself out, and Street immediately sees the blood – your blood - coating his hands. Tim says, “I found her,” then returns to his original position beneath the car. “Officers taking fire!” Tan alerts. “Deac!” Street calls into his radio. “We need a medic.” “We need a little more than a medic!” Tim barks. “Where are you?” Deacon asks, raising his voice over the commotion in the house. “Garage,” Street answers. “I can’t get over there, Street. I’m on the 3-side and there’s a firefight between us,” Deacon replies. “Victim has been located,” Tim radios, shockingly calm for someone with blood up his forearms. “We need an R/A. I’ve got a pulse, but not for long.” “Can we move her?” Street asks, moving to his knees to look under the car. “She’s not responsive,” Tim replies. “It’s not smart, but we’re running out of options.” “It’s probably a stupid idea,” Street decides. Tim turns his head, keeping his hands against your sides. “What’s a stupid idea?” “This car probably runs, has a big trunk… We need to get her help, right?” Tim hesitates, then says, “Get in the car.” “What part of move her did you not hear?” “We can’t move her much, she’ll bleed out. Pull the car forward.” “Hondo, we need someone blocking the garage, we're moving the vic,” Street radios as he climbs into the car. “It’s a button-start, if the key isn’t close enough, we can’t start it.” “Street, try!” Tim yells as gunfire grows louder.
“You find Eileen Indigo, take her into custody, and find the missing woman,” Alex reiterates. “And decide to drive over her, knowing she was injured. That seems like an absolute last resort.”
“Considering we were in a gunfight with Eileen’s version of private security and an ambulance can’t come in until we’re completely clear, we needed a last resort,” Nyla snaps. “It’s not something we’d do every day, but it was what we needed in this instance. It was try to get her in the car and out of the house, or risk letting the woman bleed out.”
The shot changes to Tim Bradford, who looks at a piece of paper lying in his lap but doesn’t speak.
“Sergeant Bradford?” Alex says softly.
“Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head as he looks up. He flips the paper, briefly showing the camera that it’s an image of you – smiling, happy, and alive. “While Officer Street started the car, I kept pressure on the victim’s wounds and ensured neither of us was in the way of the tires.”
“Officer Street’s recollection suggests you covered the victim’s body with your own. Is that what made this case emotional?”
“Amongst other things.”
BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Garage: “Okay, let’s do this,” Street says, rounding the SUV as the trunk opens. Tim shifts, moving to your left side as his hands press against your side, just below your ribs. “The kids,” you mumble. “We’ve got them,” Tim assures you. “Do you know where you are?” You open your eyes and meet Tim’s gaze, murmur, “Thank you,” and lose consciousness. “She’s fading, we have to go now,” Tim states. “Tell me what to do, Sergeant,” Street requests. Tim looks around and gestures to a stack of beach towels with his chin. “Put those in the trunk, then come put pressure here.” Street does as Tim instructed and holds your side as Tim lifts you in a bridal carry. You groan, and Tim is glad to hear you reacting but terrified by how much blood you’re losing and your lack of consciousness. “Drive,” Tim demands as he climbs into the trunk with you. “26-David and Sergeant Bradford, transporting victim in suspect’s Chevrolet Tahoe, partial plate Foxtrot-9-3-4,” Street alerts dispatch. The hospital becomes visible just as Wade radios, “We’re 10-4 all around, code 4. Indigo and the shooters are in custody.”
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
“With the teamwork of seven stations, nearly 200 officers, and a 60-hour-long hunt, the missing woman was located,” Alex narrates. “And is transported to the hospital.”
“Less than an hour later, we received a call that she died on the operating table,” Nyla says. “There really wasn’t anything we could do at that point, just hope that the evidence would talk, and Eileen’s reformed followers and children could testify.”
“You found the victim. How did that news affect you?” Alex asks Street and Bradford, now separated from the other officers.
“What kind of question is that?” Street asks. “Regardless of who found her, the news of her death was still devastating.”
“Calls like that are always hard,” Tim answers flatly. “But we didn’t have a ton of time to dwell on it before Officer Thorsen found something else.”
ACTUAL RADIO COMMUNICATION: “7-Lincoln-100,” Aaron Thorsen radios. “I’ve located another employee of Eileen Indigo’s. Albert Camden, in custody for 211 with a water gun.” “Yeah, Albert Camden was still relatively sane,” Wade deadpans. “He gave us everything we needed to prosecute Eileen to the full extent of the law.” “Why turn on his employer so easily?” Alex inquires. “She threatened to kill his family if he didn’t rob the corner store where he was arrested,” Angela answers. “After he learned she was in custody, he gave us detailed accounts of his time with Indigo and why he didn’t quit.” “And it was during this time that the final 911 call came in,” Alex says.
ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: DISPATCH 911, what’s the location of your emergency? CALLER I need to speak to Bradford. DISPATCH I’m sorry? CALLER He’s a cop, and I have information for him about Eileen Indigo, but I don’t know which station he works at.
Tim looks up from the camera and the corners of his lips quirk up.
“Welcome,” Alex greets, shaking hands with someone behind the camera. “Thanks for coming to tell your side.”
Tim shifts his seat to the right and invites the 911 caller to sit beside him.
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
“Mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.
You send him a small smile and shift in your seat before offering your name. “I worked for Eileen Indigo for about 6 weeks before she decided she wanted me to be a 24-hour employee.”
“Meaning?”
“She invited me to stay in the office 24/7 and do essentially anything she asked me. I very briefly considered it, only to ensure her children were safe, but ultimately turned it down. It was at that time she abducted me.”
“Why did you decide to fake your death?”
“I didn’t,” you reply with a smile. “Sergeant Kay did, and after the role he played in saving my life, with Officer Street and Sergeant Bradford, I wasn’t going to argue.”
“So,” Alex begins with Deacon and Street, “Why?”
“We learned that the father of her children wasn’t out of the picture, not like we thought,” Street answers.
“Mr. Devon Taylor was not murdered,” Deacon adds. “He met with detectives at the Mid-Wilshire station and worked with them to try to recover his children from their birth mother.”
“Taylor had an associate who was planning to take over Indigo’s business and real estate endeavors,” Nyla explains.
“I figured if her enterprise was directly connected to a murder, he’d hesitate,” Deacon continues.
“And he did,” Alex replies. “Just long enough to be caught using Indigo’s bank account. So, he was taken into custody, yet your people were not alerted to the actual survival of the victim.”
“Right,” Tim answers through a clenched jaw. “A minor oversight.”
“One of the doctors caught it and allowed me to call Sergeant Bradford,” you say. “I had to thank him for saving me, but he did hang up on me.”
Lucy laughs, leaning forward, before she exclaims, “His face! He hung up and immediately drove to the hospital with his lights and sirens on.”
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:
“After a series of no less than a dozen once-in-a-lifetime opportunities aligning perfectly, Eileen Indigo was arrested and is going to trial in the coming weeks,” Alex concludes. “Anything that stands out to you as the case comes to a close?”
Each officer offers a lesson or two that can be learned from their time working the case, except for Tim, Deacon, and you. During Alex’s ending narration, a cameraman steps around a corner and zooms in on you. Viewers watch in delight as you smile with Tim and Deacon. When your hand rises to Tim’s arm after Deacon excuses himself, people begin to wonder if Tim got more than a good arrest.
SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS AFTER LIVE BROADCAST: (featuring your response to the massive amount of feedback)
Lucy Chen - 2 new messages
It’s not just us, everyone can see the chemistry🤭 Have fun on your date!!
He might not say it, but you’re Tim’s once-in-a-lifetime. Thanks for being there for him.
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i bet on losing dogs
Description: Roy & Y/N have big news to share with Oliver and Dinah but it doesn't go well
Warnings: pregnancy, talk about roy's addiction/sobriety & oliver being a bad mentor, angst
Word Count: 1.1k
Roy felt weird being in Star City after so long. He felt even weirder as he pulled into the driveway of Oliver's house. Well, more like a mansion. His hand was tangled with Y/N and she could feel the nervousness radiating off of him. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach, reminding him of the life growing inside of her.
"We don't have to do this. We could go home, order takeout, cuddle while watching shitty movies," Y/N offered. She knew that Roy could push himself to prove a point but sometimes he'd get hurt in the process.
"That sounds nice but look we're already here. C'mon, babe, why are you so nervous?" Roy wanted this to work out. He wanted to have a conversation with Oliver like an adult and he wanted his family to keep growing.
"I know that you and Oliver aren't on the best terms. I just don't want you to feel like we have to do this," Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of Lian's birth, Roy wasn't as present as he would've liked but he promised himself that this time would be different. He decided to start with his relationship with Oliver and Dinah, which was estranged, to say the least.
"I feel bad that Lian has missed so much with Oliver and Dinah. I want our baby to have a big family. I want our baby to have the birthdays with both sides of the family. I want our baby to have what I didn't," Roy reminisced on his days after being taken in by Oliver. It was surprisingly lonely until he met Dick and Y/N.
"Okay, okay. You ready?" She fluffed her dress so that her little baby bump wasn't prominent. While she was only a few months along, the two of them wanted to keep a secret until a little closer to her due date. It was a miracle that her dad and siblings hadn't figured it out yet.
"As ready as I'll ever be," He murmured after getting out to open Y/N's door. The two of them walked to the front door of the large house. Y/N noted that it was smaller than Wayne Manor. Roy hesitated before finally pressing the doorbell.
"Roy, Y/N, it's so great to see the both of you," Dinah opened the door and she hugged Roy almost immediately. She took a step back and ruffled his hair before giving Y/N an even bigger hug.
"It's great to see you too, Dinah." Dinah let the two of them into the house before shutting the door behind them.
"Oliver is just in the dining room," She said and guided the couple to the area.
"It's been a long time since you've been back, Roy," Oliver greeted his former protege and gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of the table. Roy pulled out Y/N's chair before taking a seat next to her.
"Yeah," He agreed. He expected the awkwardness.
"Well, let's eat," Dinah said before describing the various dishes that were laid out on the table. Small talk was made, it felt like picking at a scab that was aching to come off. There were even small jokes that were made. Y/N felt a sudden bout of nausea and the unease was present on her face.
"Are you alright?" Roy leaned over and asked. His eyes scanned hers with worry clear on her face.
"It's just my stomach," She said reassuring him and patting her stomach lightly.
"I'll walk you to the bathroom," Dinah offered, mainly to give Oliver and Roy a chance to talk. The two of them had rarely spoken since Roy got clean and stuck out on his own.
"How far along is she?" Oliver asked the obvious question. Bruce was gonna be pissed that he didn't know first.
"Almost four months," Roy admitted
"So, this is a shakedown then?" Oliver's tone was condescending as he fumbled in his suit pocket for a checkbook.
"What?" Roy was confused. Nothing about this suggested that he was here to ask for money.
"Money? I'm assuming Daddy Bats isn't kicking out money for the baby and that's why you're here," Oliver had never been more wrong in a deduction in his life.
"You really think that's why I'm here?" Roy's voice cracked and he could feel blush creeping up his neck. He felt like the scared teenager he used to be. His hands were clenched hard on his thighs.
"Yes," Oliver's voice was definite like he had already decided that this was clearly all Roy wanted.
"I don't want your money, I just wanted my kids to have a relationship with the man who made me a hero," Roy admitted, surprisingly calmly
"Roy," Oliver tried to interrupt.
"I know that I wasn't the greatest sidekick ever and yeah, I fucked up. But why is it so hard for you to realize that I am better now? I got better without your help because you left me." Roy said gesturing to himself. He thought he was doing alright in life all things considered.
"I didn't leave you," Oliver tried to correct it but that's certainly not what happened. At least, that's not what happened from Roy's perspective.
"Oh, so what would you call it?" Roy almost yelled. Oliver wasn't there when Roy was living in alleyways when he was going through withdrawal for what felt like an eternity, or when he finally put himself back together because he found out about his daughter.
"I didn't know how to help you. You were addicted to God knows what. Oh, and poor Y/N was just throwing away money to keep you in rehab," Oliver threw the final jab, revealing a new tidbit about one of Roy's rehab stints.
"What?" Roy damn near yelled. He knew Y/N was there for him but he didn't know to what degree.
"She never told you?" Oliver's face softened at the last moment. Roy didn't notice and just stood from the table. He could feel threatened to spill. He refused to let them fall in front of Oliver.
"Tell Dinah, I said thank you for the meal and that I'll call her later," Roy gathered himself before finding Y/N and Dinah obsessing over her small baby bump. Y/N could tell something was wrong right away.
"Roy, what's wrong?" She asked walking up to him and placing her hand on his stubbled cheek. His hand covered hers and he gave a shy smile.
"Let's do those shitty movies and takeout," He spoke so softly that she had barely heard him.
"Okay, babe," She knew now wasn't the time to poke for answers but she was sure he would tell her when he was ready.
Click here for part 2
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Tim Through the Years - The Proposal
Series Masterlist (part 10)
Summary: Tim finds the perfect way to propose. 0.9k+ words
Tim has been trying to wrack his brain on how to propose. He found the ring because of Angela and now he doesn’t know how to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Because of the incident when he got the ring, everyone has an opinion on how he should propose, and it’s giving him quite the headache. Lucy has been talking non-stop since she found out and expressed all of the ideas she had. So here he is, hiding in the interrogation room, trying to think of the perfect way to ask. Tim’s phone starts to ring and he answers without looking to see who is calling.
“What?” Tim asks gruffly.
“Hey baby, is this a bad time?”
Tim freezes; it was you calling him and not Lucy as he thought. “No, not at all, what can I do for you?”
“We’ve been having issues at school of someone stealing other people’s lunches. Today they stole my whole lunch instead of a couple of things. Everything is just gone; would it be possible to bring me some lunch? I really don’t want to eat cafeteria food.”
“Of course baby, I’ll grab some food from your favorite place”, Tim replies softly. He can tell you’ve been having a rough day just by the sound of your voice.
“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I love you! See you soon.”
“I love you too.”
When your phone call ends, he sees he has a few texts he missed from you earlier. They were pictures of different drawings your students did and they all centered around you and him together. Tim knows that you love your students and they mean the world to you. You always boast about how much your students grow and how proud you are of them. That’s when Tim has the best idea ever.
You slump in your seat after your phone call with Tim. The kids were in the gym before they were going to head to lunch. There has been a lunch thief in the break room and even if you leave your lunch in your classroom, some of it gets stolen. You’ve never had your whole lunch stolen - matter of fact, no one has, so it looks like the thief has stepped up their game. You have your suspicions of who stole your lunch: your coworker Dennis has been causing all sorts of problems. He cheated on his wife with a student's mom, and now he blames his ex-wife for why his kids don’t want to see him. A rumor you were told was that he was a massive alcoholic who took out all his stress on his family, and he had a gambling problem. You want to make a super spicy meal for him to eat so he will stop eating your lunches since Tim puts a ton of effort into making sure you eat a balanced meal every day.
You check the time and see that it is time to pick up your class before lunch so they can grab anything they need. When you walk into your classroom with your students, you see Tim sitting at your desk with your lunch. The class all squeals and runs up to Tim, asking him all sorts of questions. Your class loves it when Tim visits and thinks he’s a superhero.
“Hey guys, I’m just here to have lunch with your favorite teacher.” Tim has a smile on his face while he talks to your students.
That’s when your class turns to you and declares they want to use their marbles to have lunch with the both of you. You use marbles as a reward system to encourage good behavior, and they can choose what they want within reason.
“How about instead of me taking your marbles, I’ll give you a free pass because you have been so well-behaved today.”
The class cheers and goes to get their lunch stuff, so you send a classroom aide to go with some students who need a hot lunch. Tim hands you your stuff and when the aide returns with your students, you tell her you are going to run to the bathroom and be right back. When you return to your classroom, all your students are suspiciously quiet. Lunch goes smoothly, with you and Tim talking about your guys' day and the students talking amongst their friends and asking questions here and there. Once lunch ends, the students say goodbye to Tim and you kiss Tim on the cheek before telling him you’ll see him at dinner tonight.
It is getting close to the end of the day when the fire alarm goes off, which is weird because there was no drill planned for today. You calmly walk your students outside and do a head count of your students. After a few minutes, police and fire arrive, and all the kids talk about how cool they thought the trucks were. That’s when you heard your name called from one of the police vehicles' microphones.
“Y/N Winchester.”
Everyone grows quiet, and all turn to stare at you. Your students run toward the vehicle, and you run behind them to try and stop them. You freeze because your students are standing behind Tim, who is on one knee.
“Will you marry me?” all your students shout together with massive smiles on their faces.
“Yes!”
A Manly Guard Dog
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader
Summary: You've been asking your husband for a dachshund, but he tells you that you need a manly dog. When the K9 unit gets a new recruit, Tim reevaluates his view of dachshunds.
Warnings: teasing/banter, pure fluff
Word Count: 1.2k+ words
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“Tim?” you whisper over your dimmed phone screen. “Are you asleep?”
“That depends,” your husband Tim answers. “Why?”
“Look at this.”
“I’m asleep.”
You roll your eyes at his poor attempt to avoid talking to you, even though it is the middle of the night and he has to be at the station in the morning. Despite feeling bad for waking him up, you know he’s awake and need to ask him something important.
“Tim, it hurts,” you add.
“What hurts?” he asks as he sits up quickly. After he pushes up onto his hands, Tim leans toward you and reaches over you to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.
“Look,” you repeat, extending your phone toward Tim so he can see the dog on the screen. “It hurts because I don’t have one of my own.”
“A dachshund? We’re back to this again?” Tim asks incredulously.
“Tim, I want a dog.” Your words are emphasized by your pout, but Tim only grunts as he turns the light off and lies down again.
“If we ever get a dog - big if,” Tim murmurs, “it has to be a manly dog. One that can protect you when I’m not here.”
“We can train a dachshund to be a guard dog,” you argue. “They’re vigilant, loyal, vocal, and easy to train. Tim, it would be perfect and so cute!”
Tim tosses an arm over your waist and kisses your temple before he responds, “Go to sleep.”
As you move closer to him to do just that, he whispers, “I love you, but we’re not getting a wiener dog.”
“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Lucy calls as Tim exits the locker room the following morning. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”
“Then don’t tell me,” Tim deadpans.
“So, there’s a new K9, right?” Lucy begins as they walk toward the bullpen.
“And you’re telling me.”
“The trainer brought Officer Fuzz over. Cutest name ever, I know. But when we heard that they were working with a new breed we thought it would be a husky or something. It’s not. It’s so much better. Guess what it is, Tim!”
Tim stops in the middle of the bullpen. A crowd of officers surrounds the K9 trainer, and between two cops, Tim can barely make out the shape of…
“A dachshund?” Tim asks loudly.
“Yes!” Lucy cheers. “Isn’t it awesome?!”
“I can’t believe this.”
“C’mon,” Lucy urges, pulling Tim along by his arm. “Meet Officer Fuzz.”
Tim squats to pet the friendly dog and shakes his head at the tiny K9 vest he’s wearing.
“Nice to meet you, Fuzz,” Tim mumbles. “My wife’s never going to let me hear the end of this, pal.”
“Bradford,” Wade calls from the other side of the circle. “How would you like to take them out for a ride along?”
Tim stands as the trainer adds, “I’d love to join one of the best officers in the field to test Officer Fuzz’s progress.”
“Sure,” Tim answers through gritted teeth. “But are dachshunds really worth anything in a job like this?”
The trainer and Officer Fuzz follow Tim toward his shop, and Tim can’t help but watch the small dog walk happily through the station on his first day.
“If they’re trained right, they certainly can. They’re bred to hunt badgers by tracking scents and entering their burrows. A lot of those skills translate to police dog responsibilities. Basically, because of their intimidating bark, alertness, devotion, braveness and stubbornness - courtesy of their hunting instincts - they’re perfect. Fuzz here can scare a suspect or locate bombs, drugs, you name it.”
“Scare suspects until they see him, you mean,” Tim points out.
“Well, Bradford. Let’s test your theory.”
“LAPD!” Tim yells. “On the ground!”
Behind him, Officer Fuzz barks.
“Is that a dog?” the suspect attempting to steal a sports car asks. “Your car doesn’t say K9.”
“Show me your hands and drop to your knees!” Tim repeats. “Or I can call my K9 partner over here.”
The man seems to weigh his options, then drops his tool and raises his hands over his head.
“Scared of dogs?” Tim asks.
“Police dogs are crazy dangerous, man. Scared is smart, that’s what my-“
“I don’t care who said it,” Tim interjects before he begins reciting the Miranda rights.
When Tim opens the back door of his car, Officer Fuzz growls lowly before barking once.
“Whoa! I’m not sitting by that thing!”
“See the barrier? That’s for your safety, not ours,” Tim says. “Now get in.”
At lunch, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and begins to type. He hesitates, however, and looks away before he can finish the search.
“Chen!” he calls, waving for Lucy to join him. “Where can I adopt a dachshund?”
Lucy’s eyes widen in excitement before she asks, “You’re getting a dog?!”
“I’m getting my wife a dog.”
“Because of Officer Fuzz,” Lucy states (not asks).
“No,” Tim defends. “No, I just… Dachshunds are a good option for family pets and protection.”
“Which you know because of Officer-“
“Fine, yes,” Tim admits quickly. “Do you know where I can adopt one or not?”
“Maybe you should ask the K9 trainers,” Lucy suggests. “They’ll know where to get a good one.”
“Thanks, Lucy.”
“Sure thing.” Lucy stands to return to her partner, but not before she says, “And I’m glad you’re finally listening to your wife.”
“No, quiet,” Tim commands. “Good. Now, sit.”
“Tim?” you call from the front door.
“Uh, one second!” Tim calls.
He sounds frazzled, and you walk toward his voice before you stop. Tim is whispering to someone, but you can’t make out what he’s saying before the bedroom door opens.
“Hi,” you greet. “Are you okay?”
“You’re home early,” he replies, gripping the doorknob tightly.
You glance at the time on your phone and say, “No, I’m not.”
Tim’s brows furrow as he looks at his watch. He nods, then laughs and locks eyes with you.
“Am I interrupting something?” you ask.
“No, well, yes, but no.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Tim sighs and reaches toward you. You don’t hesitate to step forward and lay your hand on his. With his hand wrapped around yours, Tim leads you into the bedroom, and inside, a brown blur races toward you.
“Tim!” you exclaim as the long-haired dachshund puts its front paws on your leg and wags its tail happily. “A dachshund!”
“Canis lupus familiarias. The K9 trainer that helped me out told me all about them,” he explains.
“Is he…” You trail off, unprepared to hear a negative answer.
“He’s ours,” Tim answers happily. “He’s already been obedience trained and I’m going to work with him to create the smallest but mightiest guard dog you’ve ever seen.”
You pull the dog into your arms and hug him kindly before you lean against Tim’s chest.
“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into Tim’s eyes.
“Sorry I said no for so long.”
“What changed your mind?”
Tim doesn’t answer, and you turn your attention to your new pet, or guard dog as Tim introduced him to you.
“Was it Lucy? I bet it was Lucy,” you whisper to the dog.
“It was Officer Fuzz,” Tim grumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“Officer who?”
“New K9 who I’m sure you’ll meet next time you visit the station.”
“I love you.”
Tim kisses your head before he asks, “Wait, me or the dog?”
Kinktober Special Part 1
The Crew's Whore (Part 1)
It's KINKTOBER BABY!!! I'm celebrating early and it's getting weird. Making a multi part series about being the Straw Hat's plaything. If anyone has any suggestions about other chapters, I'm happy to hear them! I'm open to almost anything! Sanji is first, because like? Of course he is.
Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great talent. Your years working as a high-end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.
Pairing: SUB Sanji x DOM afab!reader
WC: 3600 lmao
TW: sub and dom situation, she tops him, groping, masturbation, pet names, submissive behavior, kissing, voyeurism, BONDAGE, rope play, BDSM, cropping, riding crop usage, smacking, edging, teasing, submissive sanji :(, vaginal sex, fingering, begging.
Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 1: The Cook
You had been sailing with the Straw Hat crew for just a week now after agreeing to join their band of pirates. You made an agreement to join them not only to aide in their battles but also to provide your… services. You always had an insatiable sexual appetite, hence becoming such a professional in your line of work. After a week with not a single suitor, you had felt yourself become needy and frustrated. It had been 7 days and not a single member of your newly found crew had come to seek you out for some relief. Not even Sanji…
You were so sure he was going to be rapping at your door the first night you spent aboard the Sunny. When you agreed to join the crew and allow your body to be used by any of them at any time, Sanji’s nose sprung a leak so strong that he had to be carried back to his room partially conscious.
So when a week had passed and he hadn’t made you a proposal, you were concerned. He had barely even fawned over Robin or Nami either, actually… He seemed off. You started to watch him closer throughout the day. He was constantly running back and forth between dishes, preparing meals, setting tables, and taking inventory of the pantry, he just looked so spread thin, not like the charismatic love drunk cook you had gotten to know. You realized that had he not been so busy, of course he would have made a pass at you, he just needed to relax and frankly, so did you.
The hour grew late and you knew while most of your shipmates would be in bed, Sanji would be in the galley finishing up the dishes from dinner. You finish the glass of white wine you were enjoying on the deck and walk into the kitchen.
“Y/n my darling,” Sanji sighed out tiredly as he saw it was you who entered the galley. “Do you need more wine? I can open another bottle if you just give me a moment I have-“ He looked for a towel to wipe his hands dry of the dish water.
“Sanji thanks but no, it’s fine. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’m a big girl, I can get it myself. I don’t want to make more work for you.”
“If it’s for you, my love, it’s never work.”
You chuckled and winked at him as you headed towards the wine pantry. You perused the shelves for a bit before grabbing a bottle off the rack and walked back out to the kitchen where Sanji had returned to washing dishes. You noticed his broad shoulders tensing under his dress shirt as he continued to clean. He really was pretty. You walked towards him. “You still keep that wine key in your pants pocket, Sanji?” You ask him, a sultry low tone in your voice.
“Oh, um, yeah, I’ll grab it hold on-“ Sanji stutters out as he removes his hands from the sink.
“No need.” You came up behind him and snaked your hand into the front pocket of his dress slacks. In doing this you pressed your breasts against his back. You fished around in his pocket as you brought your other hand to grab his hip. You felt the wine key immediately but you moved your hand past it, feeling around pretending to still look for it. You moved you hand over inside his pocket and softly placed it over his cock and you felt it twitch in his briefs through the thin fabric of the pocket.
“Y/n!” Sanji was turning bright red and a single drop of blood spilled from his nose.
“Is that a bottle opener in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You smiled wickedly up at him peeking around his shoulder. You softly squeezed his hardening dick. Sanji had gone into shock, your hand was feeling him up through his pants and he could barely think anymore.
You continued, “Sanji you do so much for us. You work so hard every day to keep us fed and safe. You make so many hard choices and spend all day taking care of everyone except for yourself. Don’t you think you deserve a break? A break from everything? A time for you just to let your mind go completely blank?”
You purred into his ear as you continued to very slightly stroke him and squeeze him through his pants pocket. Sanji was breathing heavily and couldn’t get out any words, his mind short circuiting.
“You don't have to answer right this second, but if you’ll let me help you, come to my room in an hour.” You pulled your hand back out of his pocket and brought the wine key with you on your way out. You give him a seductive eyebrow raise before you left the kitchen and brought your wine bottle with the newly acquired opener down to your room.
You stripped your clothes off upon entering your room and started opening up the wine bottle. You took a swig straight from the perfectly chilled bottle and giggled to yourself. This would be fun. You knew he would show up, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind he could resist you after the little show you put on in the kitchen. You head over to your walk in closet and grabbed a black silk robe with lace dripped off the sleeves and slipped it on. You walked even further into your closet into your favorite section. All of your favorite toys and naughty items were hung neatly on the walls and packed into shelves. You smiled, finally getting back to your old self again. You wanted to give Sanji the night of his life, especially after how well he takes care of you and the rest of the crew.
You ghost your hands over various bondage items before grabbed old reliable, some simple red rope. You decided to get your softest crop, knowing that Sanji probably wasn’t used to this type of sexual encounter. You didn’t want to really hurt him… not tonight at least.
You laid both items out on your bed and you sat down against the cushions and settled in with your bottle of wine. You couldn’t help but feel warm all over, electric with the excitement of taking a new lover. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together, your cunt starting to get wet.
*knock knock*
“Come in.” You shout as you get off the bed and walk towards the door. Sanji opens it and shyly steps inside.
“Y/n… I.. don’t know what to say… I just… I guess… I need it.” Sanji stumbled horribly over his words, eyes glued to where your robe dipped low into your cleavage.
“Need what, Sanji?” You needed to hear him say it.
“I need your help, Y/n. I had all these grand plans to impress you and make our first time together perfect and romantic but I just… I’ve been so exhausted… I’m so burnt out…” He sighed out, clearly so stressed.
“I know you are… That’s why I’m going to help you relax. You don’t have to think about a thing… Or lift a single finger… Do you trust me, Sanji?” You approach him and start wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your face close to nuzzle his nose with yours. “Let me relieve your stress tonight.”
He answers you with a passionate kiss grabbing the sides of your face with both hands. He continues to kiss you with fervor as he pushes you back towards the bed. He pulls away, there’s so much lust in his eyes, but you can tell he’s exhausted.
“Yes, I want that. Please." He pleaded for you.
You smiled at him. This was going to be fun.
“Ok. Strip, then. Completely naked on the bed. Spread eagle. Quickly.” Your voice turned commanding as soon as you heard his consent. He stared at you for a moment dumbfounded before he started loosening his tie and stripping off his clothes. Once his dress socks were off he practically jumped onto your bed. His cock was already standing at attention from your teasing earlier in the galley.
*pretty…* you thought.
You grabbed your rope from the corner of the bed and started tying each of his limbs to your bedframe. It wasn’t tight, or stretching him at all, he had plenty of slack rope for movement, but he certainly wasn’t going anywhere.
“Now sweet boy… You’re going to do everything I say… no matter what… Understand? And if you need a break, you say “strawberry”. Got it?” You ask him as you tighten each knot. Sanji nods excitedly.
“No no,” You smack his naked thigh with 2 fingers. He winced. “You tell me out loud.”
“Yes, y/n. I understand. I will do anything you say.”
“Hm… Good.” You smirk to yourself as you bring an armchair to sit directly in front of the bed in Sanji’s line of sight. His chest was heaving, he was feeling so many things. Excitement. Nervousness. Everything. His cock was already stating to leak and you had done nothing more than tie him to the bed. You met his gaze. You slipped your robe to the floor revealing your full naked body to him without breaking eye contact. He falters and drops his eyes to your gorgeous, bare body. His mouth drops open.
You grab his suit jacket off the floor and reach into the inner pocket grabbing his smokes and his lighter before dropping the jacket back down. You saunter slowly over to the chair and sit down, crossing your legs and leaning back. You slide a cigarette out of the pack and light it.
“Ohhhh Black-leg…” Your blow out with a puff of smoke. “Look at you now… So sweet and willing… Can you imagine if people saw you like this?” You smiled as you took another drag. “Even that swordsman?”
“Have you had him?” Sanji was burst out of his lust filled haze at the mention of his rival.
You laughed “Oh sweetheart no. He’s so clueless, I don’t even think he knows what I’m here for. I haven’t had anyone on the crew yet. You’re going to be my first.”
You blow out a cloud of smoke as you lean back further and spread your legs for him. Sanji could see the glistening slick on the lips of your perfect cunt. You take a last drag of the cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray on your side table. You continue,
“And they say you always remember your first…” Sanji audibly whimpers at your words. His cock was leaking precum down his veiny shaft. He tugged lightly at his restraints, thinking maybe he could get free and grab you. He couldn’t. You were a professional, after all.
You grab your breasts and begin to toy with your nipples, breathing out an airy sigh. After kneading and playing with your tits for awhile, you snake your left hand down your body. You use your pointer and middle finger to spread your pussy wide open for Sanji to see your swollen clit and leaking hole.
Sanji lurches his body forward instinctively, desperately trying to get closer to your dripping cunt that was putting on a show for him. He groans loudly.
“Please, Y/n… Let me touch you please… I can make you feel good I promise!”
You tut at him while bringing your right hand down to your pussy and using 3 fingers to slowly rub your clit, “no no sweet boy, you do so much already. You need to rest.” Your smile was evil.
Soft little sighs leave your mouth as you pleasure yourself. Sanji’s chest was heaving dramatically as he watched you, no more words leaving his mouth, only heavy breaths. You bring down your fingers and push them inside of yourself, moaning and throwing your head back in the process. You immediately pushed them up towards your spot and rubbed it forcefully. Your pussy was so slick that the heel of your palm slipped effortlessly across your clit as you pumped your fingers inside of yourself. The pressure in your lower belly starting building as you moaned louder.
You pick your head up and look at the gorgeous blonde submissive in front of you. God, you missed this. Fully bringing a man to his sexual limits. He looked so sad but so turned on, beads of sweat running down his forehead. You continued fucking yourself to orgasm as his eyes were locked onto your stuffed cunt.
“Do you wanna watch me cum, sweet boy? Would that make you happy?” You breathed out at him as you brought yourself right to the edge of climax.
“GOD FUCK yes, please God yes y/n please I want to see it so badly! You’re so beautiful!” Sanji was so desperate he was shouting as you. His cock twitched painfully against his belly, leaking precum onto his abs. The sight allowed you to shudder forward into a powerful orgasm. “Fuck!” You shriek out as you squirt out warm liquid over your hand. You shake and spasm as your orgasm finished wreaking havoc on your body.
You pull out your fingers and sit up in your chair as you regain strength. You rise up and walk towards Sanji’s head laying on one of your pillows. “Open.”
He turns towards you to meet your eyes, he obliges. You shove your cum covered fingers into his open mouth. He immediately wraps his tongue around your fingers, trying desperately to taste the flavors of your delicious cunt. His eyes roll back in his head, he closes his mouth around your fingers and sucks them needing to get every last drop down his throat.
“Oh what a good boy you are, taking your reward so well!” You praise him as he sucks your fingers. He lets out a massive groan around your hand and his body lurches forward. You turn your head to look down his body.
He had just cum. From sucking on your fingers. There was a massive trail of semen across his abdomen. You gasp. You reach to your left and grab the smooth riding crop laying on the bed. A disastrous smile spreads across your face.
“You! little! slut!” You smack his left thigh with your crop. Sanji winces and gasps. “Look at you! I didn’t know you were such a desperate little thing!” You punctuate your teasing with more slaps to his thighs and chest as you circle the bed, like a hyena stalking its prey.
“Just… Just for you… my love… Please…” Sanji was breathing so hard, after cumming untouched he still felt unsatisfied. The leather cracking on his thighs was providing him the perfect amount of pain for his dick to perk up again. He needed your body on him now…. Your mouth, your hands, your pussy ANYTHING, he needed more.
“Please what, greedy boy? It seems you’ve already gotten a reward. What else could you possibly need, hmm?” You giggled wickedly as you give him more light smacks with your crop.
“Please fuck me y/n! Please fuck me! Anything you want, just please touch me!” Sanji shouts at you. He tugs violently at his restraints, needing to grab your body and ravish it like you deserve.
“shhhh.. relax honey.. you’ve done so good.. I’ll help you now… just relax, okay?” You kiss his forehead before dropping your crop and hopping up to straddle him on the bed. You begin kissing his neck and sucking dark red hickeys onto it so that he could prove to his rival that he was the one to take you first. You knew he’d love that. Sanji moans out under your deep kisses on his collar bone. He jerks his hips upwards towards your core, trying to feel some wetness or pressure on his hard cock.
You reach down and line his leaking dick up with your entrance. It was so velvety and thick, you swipe it through your wetness a few times, gasping at the feeling of it’s mushroom tip pressing on your clit.
“Goooood baby boy, so good.” You coo to him as you sink down on his length. Your dominant persona faltered for only a brief moment as he stretched your hole so deliciously.
“Fuck…” You gasped out.
“Miss y/n please… I need more… please… want you to fuck me so bad, need to feel you so bad…” Sanji was nearly crying as he tried to lift his hips off the bed to drill into you, but wasn’t able to due to his restraints.
“Oh don’t worry my sweet boy, once I get off from your big cock I’ll let you fill me up so good okay? You just have to wait until I’m finished, you can do that for me, right baby?”
“YES yes please I want to fill you! Yes, I’ll do anything!”
You smile at him and hold the side of his face in your hands. You start to grind yourself onto his fat cock, bringing yourself towards another orgasm. You pushed your thumb into his mouth, Sanji immediately wrapped his lips around it and sucked at it desperately. Continuing to ride Sanji, you leaned back so that you could rub your clit as his member rubbed back and forth against that perfect spot inside of you. Your moans became louder and louder as you used his gorgeous body for your own pleasure.
He released your thumb with a wet pop. “My l-love… it’s too much… you’re too tight and wet, I’m going to-“
You stopped moving and leaned forward to wrap your hand gently around his throat. Your fingers were wet on his skin from rubbing your clit.
“No. No you’re not. You haven’t asked and I haven’t given you permission. I am not finished. You haven’t earned your reward.”
Sanji gulped loudly and nodded his head. “O-of course love, I-I only want your pleasure.”
“Good.” You smiled down at him as you resumed your actions to bring yourself to climax. It was only a few more moments before you found yourself being close to that edge again. You grinded your pelvis so deeply into his, burying his cock into you and rubbing your clit against the skin at his base.
“YES, fuck!” You threw your head back as your cunt came all over Sanji’s cock. Squeezing and creaming all over his shaft, Sanji was in sensory overload.
“Please miss! I need to-! Fuck! Now, please!” Sanji pleaded with you.
Your voice came out hoarse and tired, still wrecked from your powerful orgasm. “Yes sweet boy, fill me up all the way baby. You’ve been so good honey, cum inside of me.” You softly breath out to him as you try to come down. You feel a hard thrust from below and Sanji screams out,
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” A tear spills past his lash line as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. Feeling the stress and pressure of his day leave his body, he shudders.
You feel the final pulses of his orgasm fade out and you move yourself gently off of his softening cock. You begin untying the rope knots around his limbs as he tries to collect himself, brain broken from cumming so hard. You finish untying him and you run your hand over the marks left by your riding crop. You hobble over to your side table and pour out a glass of water. You bring the blanket at the foot of the bed and spread it out over Sanji’s sweaty body, tucking it in at the sides.
“hey.. sit up baby. Have a little water before you sleep, okay?” You coo in his ear softly as you stroke his hair. Sanji sits up on his elbows weakly and grabs the glass you offered him. He gulps down the water and hands it back to you. You place the glass on the side table and curl up by his side in bed.
“So… How are you feeling?” You asked him, eager to provide him of any aftercare he needed.
“Y/n I… It was perfect…” He turns to look at you in the eyes. “It was more perfect than I could have ever imagined. I feel so much better, like a weight is lifted off my chest. Thank you, y/n.” Sanji leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your lips.
“Good. I like when you’re happy. Foods better.” You smiled at him. He laughed.
As you fell asleep in his arms he couldn’t help but to grin and think to himself,
“Wait until fucking moss head finds out I was first…”
Till Death Do Us Part masterlist
I wanted to use the “flustered Bisexual mess(Faelyn)/absolutely knows and shows no mercy(Walter, Viktoria, Lucy)” trope along with the “shy smol/flirty tall” and also “you won’t like me when I’m angry/oh god they are hot when they go feral”
TEASER
Cast
Prologue
DNA is a Bitch
The butler’s a dick but the Lord can dick me down
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist:
@mrs-fanfiction-2001
@bunnyboo12
@yor72
@weepingwitchofthewest
@stabmemaybe
@frozenhuntress67
Should I Stay or Should I Go? (Part Two)
Part One // Part Three // Part Four
Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader
Part two of four 💖
Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with dad!Giles, reader doesn't like Buffy much.
You did, it turns out, like Spike in a way you hadn’t realised until you had spent some time with him. It made sense now, all the time you had tried talking to him and clinging onto the small amount you had learnt about him while he stayed with you for all those months. The amount of Passions you watched just to spend time with him.
He fascinated you, made you feel at ease in a way that no one ever had, despite the casual threats of death.
You knew, however, that if you stayed where you wanted to be, with Spike, there could be trouble. Not only with the Scoobies. You were still hurt by what had happened with your father. You felt like a failure, you had never meant to lose the jobs or disappoint your Dad.
You just hated the expectations he had and the pressure he had always laid on so thick and it made you want something completely different. What this different thing was, however, you weren’t sure.
You were sitting on a stone tomb, watching as Spike walked towards you, slamming himself down beside you while he waited the last agonising minutes for the sun to rise.
“What’s happening in that mind of yours?” He asked, using two fingers to tap his own temple. He had caught you staring into the distance again, reliving that horrible moment with your father.
“What do you mean?”
“Can tell there’s something up from a mile away” He shook his head adding, “Not that I care much that is”
“I feel like a bad person” you sighed, folding in on yourself.
“You ain’t bad, believe me, I know bad”
“Maybe I haven’t killed anyone like you but if I was a good person, Dad wouldn’t have-” You started to let your mouth run as fast as your thoughts, before he cut you off, a flash of anger behind his eyes at how you had been made to feel.
“Don’t start with all that rot, what dear Rupert did was evil even by my standards. If anything, love, you’re painfully average verging on boring” He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he spoke.
“Thanks, I actually really needed that,” You laughed through the tears that had started to well in your eyes. You paused for a moment, before asking, “I don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me this much. Why wouldn’t you talk to me at Dad’s?”
“Couldn’t risk it”
“What do you mean?” Your words caught in your throat as you asked.
“Well, you know, send in the pretty one to play good cop and all that crap” he explained, elaborating that he had thought that you were playing him to get information out of him about the Initiative for Buffy and the others.
You smiled softly at the way he spoke about you. You sat in silence for a while, smiling at him softly, leaning back against the threadbare sofa. He did the same, lying back, his head turned towards you until there were mere inches between you.
He was watching your lips curve in that way he found so pleasing. It made him feel something deep within, a tensing, a fluttering of something he couldn’t describe. God, how he wanted to lean into you, press his lips against you. But he couldn’t let himself go there. He didn’t like Watchers or Slayers. In fact, he hated you. Yep, definitely. Hate. That was what this was.
Later on, after you had stayed for a couple more days, you began to worry that you had outstayed your welcome but he had never actually asked you to leave. It had been confirmed to you as Spike burst through from the lower level of the crypt and kicked some of your old clothes you had set aside to go to a laundromat later.
“Bloody crap everywhere! Can’t move for all your human bollocks” He kicked a bag that was leaking clothes onto the floor. You had sneaked back into your Dad’s place to grab more of your stuff and had overheard him on the phone to someone, once again assassinating your character.
“You’re right. I should probably find something more human-y and permanent” You shrugged, “Thanks for, uh, letting me stay and all”
“Where you gonna go?” He stopped what he had been doing, his brow furrowing in that way that you found so cute. His head cocked to the side as he asked the question.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find something”
“Can’t have that, love, stay until you’ve got somethin’ more proper figured out”
“You want me to stay?”
“’S not that. You could be eaten up tomorrow and I wouldn’t give a toss,” He insisted, slightly more half-heartedly than normal, “Just wouldn’t be right to see you out when you’re perfect bait for anything nasty that walks it’s way in”
It was true, the two instances that a demon had found their way into the crypt, they had made straight for you. Thus, ignoring Spike and letting him gain the upper hand on them both.
His eyes lit up at the way you smiled at his words. Despite the cruel appearance of his words, they made you smile. You had found yourself fond of his threats, his way with words. You had it bad. He drank in your form, eyes lingering first on your lips then slowly along your cheek and before slowly moving to meet your eyes.
He snapped himself away, after spending too long with that unmoving gaze. He snatched up his book and began to read by candlelight sat on one of the stone tombs, again waiting for the sun to set so that he could grab some blood and other necessities.
You stayed on the sofa, lying back and thinking about everything that had brought you to this point.
The turning of the pages and the soft candlelight, the occasional whisper of Spike’s voice as he murmured words that he was reading under his breath. It made you yawn, eventually slipping into a slumber. The atmosphere made you feel so comfortable, comfort in such a way that you had never experienced before. You weren’t afraid of being attacked or judged for your decisions. You didn’t have any pressure or expectations to live up to.
You felt… safe.
After placing a blanket over your sleeping form, Spike decided to make a little trip out. He needed to get a few things, he was starting to enjoy having a roommate. Especially one that he found so attractive. Not that he particularly let himself think on this for too long. He was trying so desperately to stop the feelings from growing, denying it the light of day to bloom.
You hadn’t noticed it to begin with, the way that the crypt started to resemble something not far from cosy. There was a tv set, a little makeshift bar with a fridge and it had been decorated with fairy lights and he had even sourced a real mattress for your room on the lower level. It was split into two, Spike had the bigger room, his explanation was that he deserved it being the only one providing for the house while you tried to find a job.
After a couple of months, you and Spike had been dancing around feelings that had started to grow, not that either of you recognised that the other felt the same. Spike could be grumpy and still often threatened to drink from your brainstem if you left a mess around the place. He was surprisingly particular about how his home was made, especially considering that you were in a crypt and half of it was covered in cobwebs.
“Fancy a proper drink then, pet?” He asked one night.
You had grown fond of the pet names and smiled at his words, you would never have thought your relationship with Spike would become something akin to a friendship. You adored him and allowed yourself brief daydreams where you reached for more.
“I haven’t got any money, Spike, you know that”
“On me”
“I don’t like being in debt to people”
“I’m sure we can work out some kind of repayment” He arched his eyebrow suggestively before snatching up his leather duster and gesturing for you to follow him.
Turns out, there was no repayment necessary as Spike stole the liquor and two glasses from behind the bar and topped up your drinks all night. You never thought you would feel so normal drinking in a demon bar. You did get a few suspicious looks but when Spike glared back they assumed that he was just going to eat you later himself.
You sat in a booth, leaning into him so you could hear what he was saying over the music that was playing. He told you all sorts of stories about his ‘glory days’ and you hung onto every word. You could tell he was exaggerating some of them to impress you and it only made you enjoy them more.
“Spike?” You asked quietly after a while.
“Mm?”
“Is this a date?” You asked, eyes not able to meet his. You instead pretended to find the contents of your glass incredibly interesting.
“Depends, love”
“On?”
“If-” He started, never able to finish what he had been about to let slip. Luckily or unluckily, depending on which mood he was in, he didn’t have chance because a gang slammed the entrance open and started to smash the place up.
He immediately got up and positioned himself in front of you, blocking you from the threat. He smirked and rolled his eyes when he saw you get up and stand beside him in his peripheral.
They were clearly looking for someone that wasn’t you, but when their eyes did land on you it was all that they were interested in. It was the Scoobies. They had clearly heard some edited version of why you had left from your father as they looked at you with suspicion.
“I should have known that you would sink as low as this. To dance with depravity like this is truly reprehensible” Your father spoke first as the other three whispered to each other.
“Spike’s done more for me in the last month than any of you put together. These people haven’t done anything to you-”
“Apart from the fact that they’re not people, they’re demons,” Buffy reminded you. You ignored her.
“I don’t care what you think of me anymore Giles, I don’t care that I’ve disappointed you and I don’t care that you think I’m all “evil” now for having a couple of drinks in a demon bar. Surely someone that was educated so well couldn’t be so stupid?!” You rolled your eyes
“Y/n-”
“Take your Slayer and go” You warned. They had just been looking for information anyway, Giles decided to do as you said (for probably the first time in your life). What you had said affected him. He had been visibly taken aback before you watched him walk back with the rest of the Scooby gang.
The bartender announced free drinks for everyone to celebrate their unlife lasting at least another night now that the Slayer had left. You weren’t exactly feeling it anymore though, so you both left.
You assumed Spike was going to say something mean in answer to your questioning that had been interrupted. But he truly had almost said it had been a date. If you had wanted it to be. He would have done anything, so long as it had made you happy. He knew this now. Knew for certain his desire, his love, was a force that could not be curtailed. The way you had stood up for yourself, even for him. He was used to the insults that were hurled his way by Buffy and the others. He had forgotten what it was like to have someone in his corner.
He was doing that thing again, watching you with that look. The one that told you he knew you, could see directly into your soul. The one you would so gladly offer up to him had he asked.
You were grateful for his presence beside you as the adrenaline from the argument still draining from your body slowly. It had still not properly subsided by the time you both arrived home.
Home.
Funny how a place like this could make you feel such relief. It was simple, but you had never felt that way coming ‘home’ before.
You stood close, his face close to yours, so close that you could smell him. Thick smoke and some kind of cologne that you had never noticed before. You leaned in further, not knowing if it was leftover adrenaline or just pure need, you caught his lips with yours.
He had been leaning towards you at the same moment, his hand sliding up your arm, lingering against your neck. He cradled your neck as his lips moved to meet yours. He pressed himself against you, desperate and wanting. Needing your touch, your kiss. Your everything.
His touch made your kiss deepen, you pulled his shirt, balling it in your fists as you tried to pull him even closer. He tasted good. Too good.
You moved away from him, breaking the sweet contact you had been wanting for so long now. You stepped back again, telling him to go and make himself comfortable. You needed to grab a few things and that you would be back.
“Bloody tease!” he called after you playfully as he did what you had said. He’d have listened to anything you had said to do that again. To touch your body so intimately. It had been all he had fantasised about. All he had been consumed by.
You didn’t immediately understand why you did it.
Why you left the crypt and didn’t look back, walking away into the night.
Leaving him waiting for your return.
Turn the Tide
Requested Here!
Pairing: Lev 'Oz' Ozdil x fem!reader
Summary: Oz is having a bad day, but it only takes a moment for the tide to change.
Warnings: brief angst, fluff and comfort, canon typical stuff such as murder and having conversations in the bathroom
Word Count: 1.8k+ words
High Potential Masterlist | Masterlist Directory | Request Rules/Info
“You alright, Oz?” Karadec asks, looking at Oz in the mirror as he washes his hands.
Oz glances down, scowling at the stall’s door handle. He yanks his belt to the right, and his belt loop slips off the handle.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Best day ever.”
Karadec nods, unconvinced, as he dries his hands. He and Oz are close, but not necessarily ‘share what is making today so rough before lunch’ close. Especially when it comes to the little things. Saving each other’s life? No problem. Talking about relationships? If the situation calls for it. Small talk about the mundane moments that make life miserable? It's not Karadec’s preferred topic – or Oz’s, for that matter.
“Good work on the Yu case,” Karadec says instead.
“Thanks,” Oz replies flatly.
“Morgan brought donuts. Just, uh, take it easy today, Oz.”
Oz nods as he hits his fist against the soap dispenser. He’s usually the upbeat, happy one in the group. But today, when every little thing seems to stand between him and a smile, he needs more than a donut.
“Ozzy!” Daphne calls as he returns from the restroom.
Karadec rotates his desk chair to face Daphne and shakes his head twice. That doesn’t come close to stopping Daphne, though, as she drops her smile and looks at Oz.
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
Karadec closes his eyes and releases a sigh. But Oz gives Daphne a different answer than he’d given Karadec: he shrugs as he drops heavily into his seat.
“Would a donut help?” Daphne inquires softly.
Oz straightens his seat and taps his mouse to wake his computer up. “Not today, Daph. Thanks, though.”
Daphne nods, then taps Oz’s desk three times. It’s a reminder that she’s there. It isn’t enough, she knows, so she picks up her cell phone and excuses herself from the bullpen.
In the hallway, she dials a phone number from memory and waits for someone to answer. The line connects, and she skips her usual friendly greeting to say, “I’m calling in the cavalry.”
“Ullson is here,” Soto announces as she exits her office. “Says she has information about her fiancé’s murder.”
Karadec nods and presses his hands against his knees, preparing to stand.
Soto raises her hand toward him and adds, “She said she’ll only talk to Oz.”
“Why me?” Oz asks. “Sorry,” he murmurs when he realizes how his tone sounded.
Daphne sends Soto a single look, and she immediately understands that Oz is having an off day. For a detective in a high-stress, high-stakes job, he doesn’t have many, so Soto is willing to give him the space to work this one out without consequences. Yet, a woman is waiting to give what could be vital information.
“I’ll talk to her,” Oz agrees.
“Want me to sit in?” Daphne offers.
Oz shakes his head and thanks Daphne anyway, then exits the bullpen. Karadec leans back in his chair, inviting someone else to comment on his friend and partner’s new attitude.
“He’ll be fine,” Daphne assures him.
“He didn’t even accept a donut, Daph,” Karadec points out.
“He will.”
“What does that mean?” Soto inquires.
“I called in a favor.”
Karadec smiles then, and Soto tips her head in understanding.
“Knock, knock!” Morgan calls. “Which doesn’t make any sense when the door is standing open: a universal sign of ‘hey, come on in, even if you weren’t invited!’ Why do people say that?”
“Morgan,” Karadec begins, raising a finger toward her. “Tone it down.”
“Tone myself down?”
“Oz is having a bad- no, a not great day,” Daphne explains.
“Give him a donut, he’ll be fine.”
“He’s a grown man, Morgan,” Karadec argues.
“Who likes donuts.” She raises her hands before her chest and adds, “I’m getting a lot of hostility here. Did I cause his not great day?”
“No,” Soto replies. “But we’re treading lightly for now. Let’s not make it any worse.”
“You guys love him so much,” Morgan muses before she sobers and says, “It’s a little concerning.”
“Why are you here, Morgan?” Karadec asks.
“Oh, right! Ms. Ullson killed her fiancé.”
Oz drops his notepad onto the metal table, and the woman across from him flinches as it thuds. She looks up with a smile and apologizes.
“Ms. Ullson, I’m going to be straight with you,” Oz begins. “It’s been a long morning, and I am not in the mood to run in circles or waste any time.”
“I completely understand,” she answers.
“Alright, then.” He flips to a blank page in his notepad and readies his pen. “What information do you have for me?”
“I think that my future brother-in-law, Derek, killed Jake,” she explains softly.
Oz writes Derek’s name, but he watches his new informant, who has been a suspect since the case landed in their laps. She wipes her face as if crying, but there’s no sign of tears.
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“He was so jealous of his brother, of our relationship. I mean, it makes sense that it was someone close to him, right? Because of the injuries to his face. That wasn’t random, I’d assume.”
Oz sits back in the chair and taps his pen against his other hand. She shouldn't know about those injuries, he remembers.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he agrees. “It indicates a killer who knew Derek, attacked him for a personal reason.”
She nods, then drops her hands toward her lap. Shifting uncomfortably, she moves her right elbow back away from her side.
“Is that the only reason you suspect Derek?” Oz asks. “His jealousy?”
“I mean, I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I’ve seen.”
Oz nods and flips his notepad closed.
“Is that enough to arrest him?”
“Unfortunately, no. Why? Has he made some sort of threat to you?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Oz nods, standing. “Let me pass this on to the rest of my team, and I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, detective.”
Exiting the interview room, Oz waves to the officer who escorted Ms. Ullson into the station.
“Yes, sir?” he asks.
“Did she drive herself; do you know?” Oz inquires.
“No, sir, there’s a man in a BMW waiting outside for her.”
That’s all the information Oz needed. He thanks the officer and then returns to the interview room.
“Jealousy is a powerful motive,” he says. “It falls under love, one of the most common reasons for murder.”
Ms. Ullson nods.
“Just like pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry,” Ms. Ullson murmurs. “I’m not following.”
“It’s too late to play dumb,” Oz snaps. “You’re pregnant, right? By Dexter, I’m guessing, and either you or he wanted Jake out of the picture. So, are you going to take the blame or tell me again that Dexter did it. Officers are waiting for my command to bring him in and book him.”
“I- I- we never…” she stutters.
“Was it you or him, or both of you together?” Oz demands, leaning his hands on the table.
“It was me,” she admits, crying without faking it. “I didn’t love him, not after Dexter. I… I didn’t mean to kill him, though, I just wanted him to leave before I started showing.”
“You attacked him, hoping that he’d break up with you?”
She nods, then wraps her arms around her waist as she begins to sob. Oz shakes his head as he returns to the door, and two officers take his place inside to arrest Ms. Ullson for the murder of her fiancé.
“It’s like a soap opera,” Oz grumbles as he walks toward his desk.
You trace your finger over the ridges of a seashell. The whirlpool design eroded into it is beautiful and holds your attention.
Your attention shifts, however, when someone whispers, “Incoming.”
Standing from the desk chair, you smile. Oz stops in the doorway when he sees you, and you breathe in time with one another. He tosses his notepad onto his desk before he pulls you into his arms.
With Oz’s arms wrapped firmly around you, you smile and circle your arms around his waist as you return the hug. He pushes his hand up your spine to cradle your head, and you whisper against his shirt that you’re here.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling as he pulls back to look at you.
“I was hoping for that,” you answer, brushing your thumb across his cheek beside his pretty smile.
Oz looks over your shoulder and says, “Thanks, Daph.”
“Oh, it was selfish. I don’t like mopey Oz,” she jokes.
“Thank you for coming,” he tells you. “I… thank you.”
“Well, I brought you something,” you say.
You lift the seashell from his desk and pass it to him. He moves one hand from your waist to accept the gift, and his smile widens as he looks at the shell.
“The lines were etched by changing tides,” you explain. “It’s just a little reminder that things change. Bad days can always turn around and make something beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you promise.
“Oh, thank you, Daphne,” Karadec exclaims as he returns from somewhere else in the station.
“You didn’t even try to cheer me up, you don’t get to act relieved,” Oz says.
“I told you to take it easy!” Karadec defends. “I’m just not one to get emotional in the men’s room.”
“That’s true,” Morgan agrees.
“I don’t want to know how you know that,” Oz tells her.
Morgan shrugs, then waves to you. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Oz, but you’re not here for her today. You’re here for Oz.
“Murder was just reported on a sidewalk off Pico,” Soto calls from her office.
“I’ll see you tonight?” you ask Oz.
“Can we-“
“Have a quiet night in?” you finish for him. “Absolutely.”
Oz hugs you once more, presses a kiss to your forehead, then tells you to be safe and text him when you get home safe. He slides the seashell into his desk drawer for safekeeping, then follows Daphne and Karadec out of the station.
“I should give you a badge for that,” Soto muses.
“He’s easy to love,” you say, shrugging.
“Thank you. I’ll get him home to you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Selena.”
“You call her Selena?” Morgan asks as you walk out together.
“You don’t know everything about me, Ms. Gillory.”
Oz’s phone buzzes as he prepares to leave the crime scene. Unlocking it, he smiles just as he had when you hugged him.
“I wonder who that’s from,” Daphne jokes.
Oz doesn’t listen to her or Karadec teasing him; he focuses on the picture you sent him. Your living room has been transformed into a perfect movie night setup, and Oz isn’t sure that today could get any better.
“Tides change,” he explains to Karadec.
The Cook and The Teacher!
Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.
Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!
When the snowstorm hit, The Bear had no choice but to close, much to Carmy's dismay. He tried to tell himself he could use the time—clean his apartment, read a book, maybe experiment with some recipes—but the thought of sitting in silence, in stillness, made his chest tighten.
Desperate to do something, Carmy had ventured out to the store for some essentials to pass the storm—milk, coffee, cigarettes, bread—anything to keep his hands busy. But as he returned to his apartment building, patting his jacket for his keys, his stomach sank.
"No, no, no..." They weren’t there. Not in his jacket, not in his pants pocket, not even in the grocery bag. Gone. "FUCK!!"
After circling the building twice, retracing his steps, and swearing under his breath at least ten times per minute, Carmy gave up. The snow was falling harder now, and the biting cold seeped into his bones. The growing frustration knotted his shoulders as he called the building’s landlord.
“I'll be there as soon as the snow clears,” the voice on the other end had said. “Probably by morning.”
Morning. Fuck.
With no other options, he’d slumped down against the wall near his apartment door, grocery bags at his feet. At least it was warm inside the building.
He sat there, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. The stillness felt suffocating, the hum of the heater mocking him with its quiet insistence. The cold of the building seeped through his hoodie, but he didn’t care. What else was there to do? He didn’t want to call anyone but the realization that he might be stuck outside his own apartment all night made him feel a little desperate.
The sound of the elevator dinging down the hall barely registered until it opened. He kept his head down, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as though he could will himself to forget the situation. He didn’t notice the footsteps until they stopped right in front of him.
“Carmy?” Your voice cut through the quiet like a spark.
The familiar voice snapped him out of his haze, and he looked up to see you standing there, bundled in a colourful coat and scarf, a faint dusting of snow still clinging to your hair. Your arms were full of takeout bags, and your expression was a mix of confusion and concern.
“Hey,” he muttered, sitting up straighter and rubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
“Well, I live here,” you said, setting your takeout on the floor before crouching beside him. “But I didn’t expect to see you sitting on the floor like a lost puppy. What’s going on?”
He hesitated, his pride fighting against the urge to explain. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lost my keys.”
You blinked, tilting your head. “Lost them where?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here,” he muttered, his tone dry but not unkind.
You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with his snark. “Fair point. How long have you been out here?”
Carmy shrugged. “I don’t know. A while.”
“A while?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “Carmy, it’s freezing. Why didn’t you call someone?"
He looked away, his expression a mix of discomfort and embarrassment. “Didn’t want to bother anyone.”
You frowned, glancing toward his door and then back at him. “So you were just gonna sit here all night? What, wait or divine intervention? Or are you hoping your door grows a conscience and lets you in?”
“Something like that,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a faint, self-deprecating smirk.
You tilt your head like you were assessing a puzzle. “You look miserable. Not in the charming, tortured artist way, you usually do. Just straight-up pitiful. No offense.”
Carmy blinked, he did not know if that counted as something of a compliment, “... None taken,”
You sighed, shaking your head as you stood abruptly, brushing off your knees. “C’mon, let’s get you out of the hallway before you turn into a Carmy-shaped popsicle.”
“What?” he asked, looking up at you.
“You're coming to my place,” you said firmly, gesturing toward the door in front of his. “I'm not letting you sit in the hallway all night like some tragic Dickensian orphan. You’ll freeze.”
Carmy hesitated, his instinct to refuse warring with the warmth in your voice. “You don’t have to—”
You cut him off with a pointed look.
“I just spent two hours with Ava, who insisted on treating me to an impromptu ‘ladies’ day,’ which turned into me carrying her shopping bags. I am not in the mood to argue. So, get up, Chef Brooding.” You picked up your takeout bags and gestured for him to follow.
“I’m fine, really,” Carmy said, shaking his head. “Don’t want to bother you.”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’d know if you were bothering me. This is me being benevolent. Now, are you getting up, or do I have to drag you? Because I will. And I’m stronger than I look.”
Carmy let out a soft huff, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his bags. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”
“Nope,” you said brightly, turning to unlock the door of your apartment.
As soon as you opened the door, Carmy was hit with a faint scent of cinnamon and a wave of warmth, the kind that made him realize just how cold he’d been sitting in that hallway. He stepped inside, glancing around as you kicked off your snow-dusted boots and motioned for him to do the same.
“Shoes off, please,” you instructed, kicking yours off by the door and disappearing into the kitchen. “I don’t need melted snow turning my floor into a Slip ’n Slide.”
He obeyed, toeing off his sneakers and setting the grocery bags on the counter. The apartment was small but vibrant, filled with personality in a way Carmy couldn’t help but find... comforting. The walls were a warm cream, though much of them were hidden behind shelves crammed with books, mismatched picture frames, and an assortment of plants that looked like they thrived under your care. A string of fairy lights zigzagged along the windows, casting a soft hue across the room, and a woven rug—splashed with reds, blues, and yellows—anchored the cozy seating area.
The couch was an explosion of color, piled high with throw pillows in every imaginable pattern. A quilt draped over the back looked like it had been handmade, and a small coffee table was cluttered with books, an empty mug with the phrase World’s Okayest Teacher, and what looked suspiciously like a half-finished embroidery project.
On the counter, a ceramic cookie jar in the shape of a llama grinned at him, and next to it sat a stack of papers. Everything about the space was warm, a little chaotic, but somehow effortlessly inviting.
“I wasn’t planning on imposing,” he said after a moment, taking in the space around him.
“You’re not imposing,” you replied, handing him a pair of fluffy socks from a nearby basket. “You’re being rescued. Big difference.”
He stared at the socks—bright orange with cartoon foxes on them—then looked at you. “These yours?”
“Yup,” you said with zero shame as you make your way to the kitchen. “Consider it part of the ‘Guest Package.’ Now, make yourself at home, I'll make us something hot.”
“Uh... sure,” Carmy said, his voice quiet as he wandered further into the room. His gaze drifted to the dog bed tucked under the window—there, on a cushioned dog bed of all things, sat a pigeon—brown, fluffy, and completely at ease. It was curled up, its head tucked under its wing, slumbering as if it owned the place, oblivious to Carmy’s bewildered stare.
For a moment, Carmy wondered if he was hallucinating.
“Hey,” he called, glancing toward the kitchen. “Uh… you know there’s a pigeon in here, right?”
"Hmm?" You poked your head out from behind the cupboard, following his gaze.
“Oh, that’s Gus,” you said nonchalantly as if pigeons lounging on dog beds were an everyday occurrence. “He’s not a pet or anything. Just... kind of showed up one day. I think he was someone’s ‘release dove’ for a wedding or something, but he clearly decided he liked me better.”
Carmy blinked, shifting his gaze between you and Gus. “And... he just lives here now?”
“Well, not technically,” you said, grabbing a pair of mugs from the cabinet. “He comes and goes as he pleases. But he sleeps here most nights. Guess he appreciates my excellent hospitality.”
“Right,” Carmy muttered, still watching Gus as the pigeon let out a soft coo, completely unbothered.
“Hot chocolate okay?” you asked, snapping his attention back to you.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping further into the apartment. The smell of chocolate wafted through the air as you stirred something in a small pot on the stove, and he realized the space felt almost alive with warmth—not just in temperature but in personality. It was so... you.
His eyes wandered again, taking in more details of your space. The small dining table was half-covered with papers—lesson plans, probably, a half-finished puzzle—and a childlike drawing of a sunflower sat front and center, its colors vibrant and cheerful. The edges of the paper were slightly crinkled, but you’d clearly kept it with care. Near the couch, a pair of fluffy slippers lay abandoned, one toppled over as if you’d kicked them off in a hurry.
“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” you said, glancing up from the stove as if you’d caught him mid-thought. Your tone was casual, but there was a hint of self-consciousness in it, like you were bracing for judgment. “I didn’t expect to host anyone during a snowstorm.”
“It’s not a mess,” Carmy said quietly, his gaze lingering on the twinkling string lights. “It’s... nice.”
“Nice?” you echoed, a playful lilt in your voice as you poured the hot chocolate into two mismatched mugs. One had a cheerful snowman on it; the other had the phrase Not Today, Satan in bold letters. “That’s high praise coming from you, Chef Carmy.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned against the counter, watching you finish the drinks. You handed him the snowman mug, the hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and topped with rainbow sprinkles.
“Thanks,” he said softly, the warmth of the mug sinking into his cold fingers.
“Don’t mention it,” you replied, motioning toward the couch. “Go sit. Warm up. Gus might even share the dog bed if you ask nicely.”
Carmy took a seat on your couch and glanced at where the bird, was still nestled on its makeshift throne. His expression teetered between confusion and amusement. “Why’d you name the pigeon Gus?”
“Well,” you began, grinning as you set your mug down and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch. “He’s got a very Gus vibe. You know, dependable, grounded. Plus, I think he likes it.”
Carmy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Pretty sure pigeons don’t care about names.”
“Gus does,” you replied, wrapping the blanket over your lap and settling in beside him with mock seriousness. “He’s refined. A pigeon of culture. Look at him—he’s living the dream. Warm bed, no rent, no responsibilities. It’s the life.”
Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he sank into the other end of the couch. His mug sat warm in his hands, the whipped cream melting into the chocolate and blending with the colorful sprinkles. He took a slow sip, letting the rich warmth settle in his chest.
“So,” you started, shifting under the blanket you’d wrapped around yourself. “What’s something no one ever expects about you?”
The question caught him off guard, and his brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, like... something people wouldn’t guess just by looking at you,” you explained, tilting your head. “Something random, unexpected. For example, I’m freakishly good at those claw machines at arcades.”
Carmy huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said, grinning. “I’ve got a whole collection of stuffed animals to prove it. My proudest moment was winning three in one go. The guy running the arcade looked like he wanted to kick me out.”
“Let me guess,” Carmy said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re one of those people who has a ‘method.’”
“Damn right I do,” you replied, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “It’s all in the timing. You’ve got to line it up perfectly and commit. None of that panicking halfway through and letting the claw drop nonsense.”
“Noted,” he said with a chuckle. “Alright. Something unexpected... I don’t know. I guess I—” He hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the side of his mug. “I used to be into puzzles. Like, big, complicated ones.”
Your eyes lit up, and you gestured toward the half-finished puzzle on your coffee table. “No way. Me too! Well, kind of. I’m more of a casual puzzler. That one’s been sitting there for weeks.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” he teased, nodding toward the scattered pieces. “You’re not exactly flying through it.”
“Hey, I’m busy, okay?” you shot back, laughing. “But seriously, puzzles? That’s cool. What kind? Like landscapes or those impossible ones with a thousand pieces of just sky?”
“Both, I guess,” he said, shrugging. “I liked the challenge. Felt... calming.”
You nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. There’s something nice about piecing things together. Feels like you’re fixing something, even if it’s just a picture.”
Carmy looked down at his mug, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t really do it anymore, though. Too much else going on.”
“Maybe you should,” you suggested, your tone light but sincere. “Could be good for you. Something just for you, you know?”
He didn’t reply immediately, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow. “Alright, your turn. Something unexpected.”
“Hmm,” you mused, leaning back against the couch. “Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but... I used to want to be a cryptozoologist.”
“A what?” Carmy asked, his brow furrowing.
“Cryptozoologist,” you repeated, grinning. “You know, someone who studies mythical creatures. Like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. I was convinced I’d grow up to prove they existed.”
Carmy blinked, clearly trying to process that. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” you said, laughing. “I had notebooks full of research—drawings, ‘sightings,’ theories. I even tried to build a Nessie tracker out of a walkie-talkie and a coat hanger once.”
He let out a laugh. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“Not when it matters,” you replied with a playful shrug, your eyes glinting with mischief. “What about you? Any weird childhood dreams? Like, I don’t know... being an astronaut or starting a rock band?”
Carmy hesitated, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line. It took a moment before he finally spoke, his tone quieter. “Not really. I mean, cooking was always kind of... it. It felt right. It’s like a family thing, I guess. My brother was into it too—he loved it.”
Your curiosity piqued at the mention of his family.
“You have a brother?” you asked, your head tilting with interest.
“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, the words carrying a weight he didn’t fully unpack. “Mikey. And I’ve got a sister too—Sugar. Well, her name’s Natalie, but we’ve been calling her Sugar forever.”
“That’s cute,” you said with a warm smile. “Are you the youngest?”
“Yeah,” Carmy replied, running a hand through his hair, a subtle habit you were starting to notice. “Mikey was the oldest. Sugar’s in the middle.”
“Did they pick on you a lot?” you teased gently, trying to keep the tone light.
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Not really. Mikey did, sometimes. But not in a mean way, you know? More like... making sure I could handle myself. And Sugar? She was the one keeping us all in line. Still is.”
“That sounds like a good balance,” you said, leaning back into the couch. “Oldest sibling as the troublemaker, middle sibling keeping the peace, and you as... what? The quiet one?”
“Something like that,” Carmy replied, his voice quiet. “I guess I just... stayed out of the way most of the time. Let them be loud.”
“Stayed out of the way?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “That sounds lonely.”
He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the swirl of whipped cream in his mug. “It wasn’t bad. Mikey... he was the big personality, you know? The guy everyone wanted to be around. Sugar had her own stuff, and I guess I just... I don’t know. I was fine doing my own thing.”
Your chest tightened at the quiet way he spoke, as if he were skimming the surface of something much deeper. You didn’t push, sensing that there was more he wasn’t ready to say. Instead, you offered a small, genuine smile.
“I bet they loved having you around, though,” you said softly. “Even if you didn’t take up all the space.”
Carmy’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable passing across his face. He gave a small nod. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful, filled with the hum of the heater and Gus’s soft cooing. You shifted in your seat, looking for a way to lighten the mood again.
“So, Carmy-next-door,” you said, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye, “since you’re already here, I have an important question.”
“What’s that?” he asked, his brows lifting slightly.
“If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life—one thing—what would it be?”
Carmy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “One thing?”
“Yup,” you said, grinning as you rested your chin on your hand. “You’re a chef. I feel like this is the kind of thing you’ve thought about.”
He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I haven’t, actually.”
“Well, now’s your chance,” you said, gesturing for him to answer. “Come on, Chef Carmy. What’s it gonna be?”
He thought for a moment, his gaze distant before he replied, “Probably... bread. Good bread. Crusty, fresh out of the oven.”
“Bread?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your pick?”
“Yeah,” he said, smirking slightly. “It’s simple. Versatile. You can make a sandwich, dip it in soup... eat it plain.”
“Fair,” you admitted, nodding. “But also kind of boring.”
“Boring?” he echoed, his smirk widening. “What about you, then?”
“Oh, easy,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Mac and cheese. The good kind. Baked, with breadcrumbs on top.”
“Baked mac and cheese?” he asked, his tone teasing. “And bread is boring?”
“Hey, baked mac and cheese is a masterpiece,” you argued, pointing a finger at him. “It’s comfort food at its finest.”
Carmy laughed, the sound low and warm, and for the first time that night, he felt completely at ease. You grinned, triumphant, as you sipped your hot chocolate.
“Alright, mac and cheese,” he said finally. “You win,"
“Hell yeah,” you laugh, settling back into the couch with a satisfied smile.
The quiet settled between you again, easy and warm, but you weren’t one to let a moment pass without a bit of mischief. You leaned forward suddenly, setting your mug down on the coffee table and glancing at the pile of papers sitting on the far edge.
“So,” you began, your voice light and playful as you turned back to him, “since you’re already here, Carmy-next-door, how do you feel about helping me grade English essays?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “Grade essays?”
“Yup,” you said, grinning as you grabbed the stack and plopped it on the table between you. “It’s my favorite nightly activity. Well, maybe not favorite. But it’s how I usually spend my nights when I’m not rescuing my neighbors from hallway purgatory.”
Carmy raised an eyebrow, his smirk faint. “Not a chance,"
“Why not?” you teased, nudging the stack toward him. “Think of it as your way of repaying me. A little good ol’ fashioned labor for the fourth-grade cause.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, frowning. “I don’t know anything about grading papers.”
“Oh, it’s easy,” you said, waving a hand. “You just read through them and make sure the sentences make sense. Bonus points if you add a smiley face or two. The kids love that.”
“I’m not sure your kids are gonna love my grading style,” he muttered, but he reached for the stack anyway, pulling the first paper off the top.
“Relax,” you said, sitting back with a smug smile. “They’re not expecting Pulitzer-worthy feedback. Just check for spelling errors, maybe circle a comma splice here or there. You’ll be great.”
He sighed, glancing at the paper in his hands, his brow furrowing as he read. After a moment, he spoke. “This one’s about... pizza?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. “Personal narratives. They had to write about something important to them. Pizza’s a classic. I mean, it keeps the world turning, apparently.”
Carmy’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Right, ‘round like the Earth.’ Deep stuff.”
“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “Ten-year-olds are basically philosophers in disguise.”
He kept reading, his expression shifting between amusement and genuine thoughtfulness as he moved through the stack. Occasionally, he’d hold up a paper and read a line aloud, like, “‘If I could be any animal, I would be a penguin because they have a lot of swag.’”
“That’s Semaj,” you said with a fond laugh. “He’s got big main-character energy.”
He leaned back into the couch, his empty mug resting on the coffee table. He’d worked through half the stack of papers, leaving you with the rest. You had the blanket draped over your legs, your focus on the paper in your hand, the tip of your pen tapping thoughtfully against your lip. Occasionally, you’d mutter something under your breath—“Oh, Ethan,” or “That’s not how commas work, sweetheart”—before marking a note in the margin.
He couldn’t help it. His gaze lingered.
It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. But something about the way you looked so at ease in the warm glow of the string lights made him pause. Your hair, slightly mussed from the blanket, framed your face in a way that felt unstudied but perfect. The way you chewed your lip when you read something particularly interesting. The way you smiled when you wrote a note in the margin, like you were having a silent conversation with the words on the page.
It wasn’t just that he thought you were pretty—though, God, you were. It was more than that. It was how everything about you seemed to radiate a kind of energy he wasn’t used to. Warm, chaotic, alive.
“Alright,” you said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Your face lit up as you held a paper up for him to see, the grin on your face contagious. “This one? Absolute gold. You have to read this.”
He leaned forward, taking the paper from your outstretched hand. The title at the top read: ‘Why My Dog is the Best Dog Ever’ in shaky but determined handwriting. He glanced at the first paragraph and let out a quiet laugh.
“'My dog is the best because she knows how to play fetch, even though she’s really bad at it. She never brings the ball back, but I think she’s trying her best,’” Carmy read aloud, shaking his head as he glanced back at you. “This kid’s got it figured out.”
“Right?” you said, your eyes sparkling. “That’s life wisdom right there. ‘Trying your best’—that’s what counts.”
As you set the paper aside, your gaze caught his, and for a moment, the teasing smile on your face softened.
“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the hint of curiosity in your tone.
“Nothing,” Carmy said quickly, sitting back, though his lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Just... your kids. They’re funny.”
You studied him for a moment longer, like you didn’t quite believe him, before your grin returned. “They are. Keeps me on my toes.”
He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the stack of papers you were working through. “You’re good at this, you know?”
“Grading?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.
“No,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “All of it. The teaching, the way you talk about them... It’s easy to see.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Then your lips curled into a shy smile, and you shrugged. “Thanks. That means a lot. And, for the record, you’re not so bad at this either. You’re practically a natural.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his smirk returning.
“Oh, definitely,” you said with a mock-serious nod. “The kids would love you. Quiet, mysterious... You’d be like their cool uncle or something.”
Carmy huffed a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“Well, I do,” you said, leaning back and tucking the blanket around you. “You’re doing great, Carmy-next-door. Even if you still think bread isn’t boring.”
He chuckled softly, letting the moment settle between you. The snowstorm outside raged on, but inside, the warmth of the room and your laughter made everything feel lighter. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Carmy didn’t mind staying still.
A/N: Heyyyy, thank you so much for the support. Also, I need help coming up with new scenarios... so if you have any suggestions please tell me.
I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you want to be tagged. <3
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The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : five
A/N: I cannot help it, I love the teeth. I love this gif.
You woke to the dark, in an unfamiliar bed, soft silk rustling beneath you as you shifted, struggling to open your eyes. When you finally managed, you realised you were not in your own room, but in Walt’s. He was sprawled on his back next to you, breathing evenly, his chest moving quietly. Memory of the earlier evening came rushing back and you touched the sore patch of skin on your neck, hissing softly as you felt two perfect tiny holes, almost healed over already.
Keep reading
Andy getting accused of cheating on his wife with his work wife because no one knows they are married. She wanted to make a name for herself so she kept going by her maiden name at work
“I think its disgusting.” Your ears pique at the sound of gossip, and you try to be nonchalant when you raise your head and look at the two women standing near the copier, whispering between themselves.
“He’s cheating on his wife, with her.” Your hand nearly flies to your mouth to hide your biting laugh, immediately catching on to what they’re talking about.
Or rather, who they’re talking about.
“Mr. Barber has a wife at home, she should keep her damn nose out of other people’s marriage.” They look at you, brashly throwing you a dirty look before the door to your department opens and Andy walks inside with a pair of coffees in his hand.
“She’s married too. Did you see the rock on her hand? Gold-digger can’t get enough dick-“
Your husband is as beautiful as ever, thick beard giving him an air of woodsy intrigue and masculinity. He’s tall, absolutely squandering your height with his own, a different that is both a turn on to you and him.
“Mr. Barber, good morning.” They greet him with warmth and endearment, snidely look you over when you stand. You walk around the desk to greet him with a quick kiss to the cheek and a soft laugh when he sits on your desk and pulls you into his chest, hands cupping his neck.
“This feels like an HR violation.” You mumble softly, looking at him through your lashes.
“I have an in with HR. In fact,” he slips his hand down your back, toying with you, “I think my HR insider should spend the next hour across my desk-“
“Mr. Barber!” One of the women squawks, her shrill protest cutting the moment short. “You have a wife!”
“Relax, Piety Prudence.” Andy’s chuckle reverberated against you. “Y/N is my wife, we have different last names.”
“I kept my maiden name.” You turned your head and flashed them a victorious grin, enjoying their stalwart silence and shock. “I guess that makes me his homely wife and his dirty mistress.”
“God, I love it when you’re dirty.” Andy grins and yanks you even closer, smacking your ass for shock and awe. “Come see me in my office in ten minutes, we have to have a discussion.”
-
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