The Cook And The Teacher!
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
Tags:
@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe
@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1
@darkestbeforethedawn16 @turtle-cant-communicate
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
eddie teaching venom about love languages <33
"Physical touch is," Eddie starts, shoulder bumped up beside yours on the couch, but Venom cuts in, head hovering over Eddie's shoulder.
"That is the one where we fuck her." Venom announces proudly, toothy grin aimed in your direction. You stifle a laugh and Eddie groans, head tosses back against the couch cushions.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's the one where we fuck her," Eddie drawls, exasperated, "But that's also, like, holding hands, kissing, that kind of stuff."
"That one is my favorite." Venom declares, "I do not care about the other ones."
"Yes you do," You counter, and Venom's milky white eyes turn to you again, "'Cause there's gift-giving. That's when I bring you chocolate. And chickens."
"I gave Eddie the gift of a decapitated man once," Venom reminisces, "But he hated it. Does that mean he does not love me?"
"That's not a gift, buddy." Eddie shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the gory memory, "That's- I mean maybe you thought that was a gift, but gifts are supposed to be nice things, like flowers or a teddy bear."
"Teddy bears are useless!" Venom roars, and you know he's only speaking out of deep-seated loathing for your own stuffed animal, which the symbiote is rather jealous of.
"I would much rather receive a head," He huffs, turning back to Eddie, "Does it mean that you do not love me because you do not give me heads to eat?"
"No," Eddie rubs a tired hand over his face, "Let's- let's just move on. Uh, words of affirmation."
"You're so handsome," You croon at Venom, who blinks as you stroke the back of your hand along his goopy cheek, "And you're a great protector, I always feel safe around you."
"See?" Eddie nods, "Just like that. Nice things you say to the person you love."
"You are very small," Venom practices, and while it's true compared to his gargantuan size, it's not much of a compliment, "And I like that you feel safe around me even though I could easily rip your head off. And eat it. You would not stand a chance."
"We'll work on it," Eddie mutters, "Alright, acts of service."
"Like when Eddie gives me a shoulder massage," You hum, stretching out the tense muscles in your neck, "Or when I wash his hair for him in the shower. That's nice things you do for the person you love."
"I am good at that!" Venom boasts, "I make you breakfast sometimes."
"Yeah," Eddie nods, voice strained, and you play along even though you know that the attending to the mess that comes with Venom's cooking is more effort than doing it yourself, "Yeah, buddy, that's good. You're right, that's really nice of you."
"I am very nice," Venom agrees, bobbing his head up and down, "Are there more?"
"Quality time-" You and Eddie speak in unison, laughing sheepishly at each other. It's Eddie that continues, "Like what we're doing now. Sitting together, talking, just hanging out and being with each other."
"When he takes me on dates, too," You chime in, your voice a soft hum, "Or when you take me around the city, big guy."
You tap at Venom's cheek and he nods, blinking once in understanding.
"I like quality time," Venom decides, the thick black ooze connecting his head to Eddie's shoulder sucking him back in until his face is nestled between yours and Eddie's. It's an odd feeling on your hair but you and Eddie hold your positions anyways, intent on drilling non-sexual physical touch into the symbiote.
"Me too," You nod, and Eddie pitches in his confirmation, "Which one is your favorite, V?"
"Mm," The symbiote hums, but it sounds more like the revving engine of a car, "I do not know. I like getting gifts, but I like sitting with you, too. I like them all."
"Too hard to choose," Eddie agrees, "You?"
"More of the same," You conclude, turning your face so that your nose nudges Venom's cheek. He purrs, not unlike a cat, sounding more engine-like than ever, and his large eyes slip shut.
"Naptime," Eddie chimes, reaching over to grab your hand in his. You smile, puckering your lips to send him a kiss that you can't press to his cheek unless you break away from Venom. He pretends to catch it where the symbiote can't see, slapping it onto his cheek and acting injured at the recoil.
"Oh," He groans while you giggle, "You throw a mean kiss."
You settle against Eddie's side, and it's odd having Venom's face in between you to where you can't rest on the man's shoulder, but he's a nice pillow in and of himself. You're only seconds away from fully drifting off to sleep when Venom's jaw moves against your face, and he whispers (terribly), "Eddie. Are you awake?"
"Yes, Venom." Eddie groans, but by the sound of his voice, he wishes he wasn't, "What do you need?"
"I decided on a favorite," Venom informs Eddie, and you listen under the guise of closed eyelids, "I like the sex one best."
You can't help it; you let out a snort.
"Nice going, V," Eddie squeezes your hand, shutting his eyes once more and attempting to get comfortable, "I'm sure that's just the answer she wanted to hear."
If the Bun's as Sweet as You
Part 2 of Sweet as You
Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x pregnant!wife!baker!reader
Summary: After you find out you're pregnant, you try to use baking jokes to tell Deacon. Unfortunately, he isn't the first to understand you.
Warnings: fluff!! Street and Hondo. r is implied to have an irregular cycle?
Word Count: 1.6k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
A/N: I swear I could look at his smile forever. An extra special thanks to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for the amazing ideas about using "bun in the oven" and Deac being oblivious!
In your bakery’s kitchen, you sit and press the back of your hand against your mouth. The last week or so, you have been nauseous, and emotional, and the smells you once found mouthwateringly amazing are now causing your stomach to churn.
“What are you making, boss?” your employee Tristan asks. “Smells amazing.”
You increase the pressure of your hand against your mouth while fighting the urge to throw up. It hits you then: you might be pregnant. What other explanation exists for a sudden sensitivity to certain smells and tastes, plus the morning sickness that has been pulling you out of bed even before Deacon wakes?
“Tristan, I need you to take over,” you say quickly. “I have a quick errand to run, and it may turn into a personal day.”
“Sure thing. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. There’s lemon snaps in the oven and cheesecake filling setting in the fridge. Schedule’s on the board, call if you need anything.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about anything, just take care of you.”
You nod in thanks, then hang your apron on its designated hook before gathering your things. There’s a pharmacy just a few blocks away, but you want to take the tests at home rather than in a public restroom.
In less than an hour, you have five tests waiting on your bathroom sink as you sit on the edge of the tub and watch your leg bounce with the timer on your phone. When it dings, you exhale before you stand. You don’t have time to wonder how you’ll feel if they’re negative before you see two pink lines. Then, a plus sign. And a digital message reading ‘Pregnant 3+.’ Every test is positive.
You smile as you gather the tests and place them in a box below the sink. Telling Deacon has to be special, but you don’t want to wait. A baker joke, you think as you prepare to return to the bakery. It will be perfect.
Your stop at the bakery is quick; you ensure Tristan and the rest of your staff are doing well, then gather an assortment of treats. You ensure that Deacon and his team’s known favorites are included before you leave for HQ. Since marrying Deacon, you’ve been welcomed into their station more times than you can count, and they’re family to you.
“Wait,” Deacon says, dropping his guard.
“For what?” Street asks as he steps back.
“See how he perked up like a dog?” Luca points out.
“Uh, yeah.”
Hondo interrupts to explain, “That means his wife is incoming. I’d say in about, three… two…”
“Mrs. Kay!” Rocker yells around the corner.
“I’m getting pretty good at that, Deac!” Hondo brags. “Watch your back, my man.”
“Hi, guys!” you greet as you round the corner.
Rocker is carrying the boxes for you now, and Deacon’s team can’t decide whether to look at you or the baked goods you brought them.
“Dig in, they’re still warm,” you say.
Luca, Hondo, and Street tap your arm gently in thanks as they follow Rocker to a nearby table. Deacon smiles as he exits the ring and walks to your side.
“I missed you,” you murmur as he pulls you into a quick hug.
“Missed you too,” Deacon agrees. “I didn’t get to see you for long this morning. Are you feeling better?”
You nod, remembering that a few hours ago, you were sick but didn’t know why. Now, you press your hand against your thigh to keep it from resting on your nonexistent baby bump.
“I brought your favorite again,” you tell Deacon. “I’ve been thinking that I could use that flavor in some other kind of recipe, maybe make it a bit savory somehow.”
“Anything you make will be amazing.”
“Like you?” you ask, smiling as you lean against his side.
“Like you.” Deacon keeps his arm around your waist and drops his chin to kiss you quickly. He looks at the open boxes and says, “You brought more today.”
“I made a ton,” you agree. Then, you smile as you add, “Plus, there’s a bun in the oven.”
Deacon’s brows furrow, but his smile never drops as he asks, “Just one? That’s a terrible business plan.”
You laugh, caught off guard by how easily your pregnancy announcement went over his head. Deacon has been incredibly attuned to you and your needs since long before you were married. Yet, when you tell him you’re pregnant, he thinks you’re talking about your bakery.
“I’m going to go get some before it’s all gone,” Deacon whispers, carefully removing his arm from around you.
“Enjoy,” you murmur, shaking your head in amusement.
“The weekly visits may have been a terrible idea,” Deacon announces when he returns home after his shift. “It’s just enough time to make me want you around more.”
“I’m sure Hondo feels the same,” you agree.
“What are you up to?”
Deacon wraps his arms around your waist and drops his chin to your shoulder, pressing a kiss against your neck. You lean against him and set your pen aside, the beginnings of a new recipe jotted down in your favorite recipe binder.
“I started baking a new recipe,” you begin carefully, “but it won’t be ready for 8 months, give or take.”
Deacon hums, then asks, “How do you get your recipes so perfect? Besides being brilliant and all the time you put in?”
You close your eyes, smile, and drop your head against his shoulder. Deacon is smart, but it seems he’s entirely oblivious when it comes to a baby.
“Mostly time, trial and error,” you answer. “Which hopefully only applies to baking and not making other things.”
“Are you going to work tomorrow?” Deacon asks.
“No. Why? Did you get called in?”
“You’re stuck with me.”
You hum and decide to try a more direct approach. “I promise that if I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom to be sick, it’s not because of you,” you joke. “The bun in my oven just doesn’t seem to like mornings.”
Deacon nods against you before he steps back and offers to make dinner. You consider showing him the positive tests, but now you want to see how long it will take for Deacon to realize what you’ve been trying to tell him all day.
Forty-eight hours after learning that you are expecting a baby with your husband, Deacon, he has yet to catch on to a single one of your hints. You’ve tried every version of the ‘bun in the oven’ line, mentioned that you shouldn’t have rum cake, made jokes about your morning sickness, and even pointed out that being a baker is the perfect occupation to make it easier to eat for two. Deacon Kay is oblivious, you’ve discovered.
So, to get your mind off the dilemma of how to tell your husband without just blurting out I’m pregnant, you’ve taken to experimenting in the kitchen. When the third batch of your sweet and savory cookie crisps is finished, you carry the tray around the bakery and ask for your employees’ opinions. After six of them give you a thumbs up and one admits that she doesn’t like crunchy cookies, you package the new item and wave goodbye to your kitchen assistant.
You’re going over your weekly visit to SWAT HQ, but you don’t care. As you walk in, you hear Deacon talking.
“Hello, beautiful,” Hondo calls. “I finally beat Deacon to you.”
“Not by much,” Deacon points out as he walks to your side. “Whoa, what are those?”
“They don’t have a name yet,” you answer, passing the box to him. “They’re a twist on a savory chocolate chip cookie crisp.”
“I’m sorry,” Hondo tells you, laying his hand on your shoulder. “Your husband was distracted by the cookies. How are you feeling?”
Deacon rolls his eyes and passes the box of cookies to Street.
“How did you come up with this recipe?” Luca inquires.
You decide that now, surrounded by your friends, is as good a time as any to try one more time.
“I think the bun in the oven is making me a better baker,” you admit.
The men around you freeze, and everything is silent for several seconds.
“Congratulations!” Luca exclaims, hugging you tightly.
Hondo points at you with a bright smile and says, “You can’t give me that look when I call you Mama now!”
“Oh my gosh,” Street murmurs, reaching toward your stomach. “Can we call them Cookie?”
You laugh and say, “Sounds like I’m bloated, but sure.”
“What?” Deacon asks slowly. When you look back at him, his eyes are wide, and his brows are raised high on his forehead. “What?” he repeats.
“I’ve been telling you for two days, Deacon!”
“No, you haven’t!”
You smile and take Deacon’s hand. “You’re way too pretty to be this oblivious.”
“Hey, if pretty’s all you’re after,” Hondo interjects, shrugging as he raises a cookie toward his mouth.
“Back off,” Deacon chides playfully. He looks at you and asks, “You’re pregnant?”
You smile and nod as you raise your hands to his shoulders. “You’re going to be a dad, Sergeant Kay.”
Deacon’s eyes brighten as he smiles. Then, his smile drops long enough for him to mumble, “Oh.”
“You just caught on to everything I’ve been saying,” you accuse.
Deacon kisses you rather than admitting you’re right but pulls back quickly when Street asks, “Hey, can I be the godfather?”
“Over my dead body,” Hondo answers lowly.
“I feel like we’re interrupting something,” you whisper to Deacon.
“I love you,” Deacon replies.
“I love you, too. And if this baby is anywhere near as sweet as you, everyone here is going to love them, too.”
“We'll love Cookie, you mean,” Street calls.
hiii, could you write a Tim Bradford X Grey!reader? She is sergeant grey’s daughter but adopted, so everyone can imagine themselves as they want 💕!
and they have to sneak around because she is “off limits”, also maybe younger than him??
and one day, while they are at her house and they are doing it (idk if you write smut, if you don’t you don’t have to go into details ofc). Wade goes at her house because she was not answering her phone and finds them while she is literally on top of him ??
Not just any man
Tim Bradford x Grey!reader
Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni!, smut, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), language, fluff, secret relationship, reader is Grey's adoptive daughter
Word count: 1.722
Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! Yes, I do write smut. I hope this fits your expectations! I really appreciate the idea with the reader being adopted, so everyone can imagine the reader as they like!
Enjoy!
There was a lot you had Wade Grey to thank for.
Catching you with your boyfriend wasn't one of those things, though. Especially when your boyfriend was one of his officers and he was older than you.
You were in so much trouble.
It had all began when you met Tim at a charity event hosted at the police station (not the best place for an event like this, as your father later would always like to mention).
It had instantly clicked.
The thrill of doing this behind everyone's back was what excited you the most the first few months - that was, until Tim confessed his feelings to you.
You were deeply in love with each other, and no one would be able to separate you - not even your father, even when he decided to fire Tim, if he ever found out.
When you were a baby, barely a few months old, Wade had adopted you.
Your parents died a few days prior, losing everything, including their lives, when a drug deal went horribly wrong.
You didn't know much about them, but you didn't care. The Grey's were your family, not them.
Family didn't end in blood.
You were a little older than their biological daughter, but you were still your fathers little girl.
Which meant you were off limits - to everyone, including Tim. Not that it would have stopped you, though.
You had to sneak around of course, but someday your parents eventually had to find out - especially if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Tim.
It just wasn't supposed to be that day, especially not like this.
You and Tim had been busy that day, you both had a day off and had been cooking together, went shopping (yes, you did that together, when your parents weren't near), and watched movies.
All that time you didn't look at your phone, though - missing several calls from your father.
Now, you were very busy with Tim, as he placed kisses down your neck, making you shiver in delight.
Your naked body's pressed together, his fingers brushing over the curves of your breasts, wandering further down.
Your fingers touched him wherever they reached - his muscular chest, his back and his arms, brushing through his short hair as his fingers pleasured you.
His lips found yours, muffling a moan, as his fingers went in and out of your tight pussy, his palm brushing your clit in the process, sending shivers up your body.
You loved every second of it.
You loved the way he always took care of you, the way he took his sweet time.
The knot in your stomach tightened, as he quickened the pace of his fingers. Gasping his name your fingers dug into his shoulders, his lips ghosting over your neck, as his thumb drew figure eights on your clit.
With a few last strokes you came, moaning his name, pure bliss pulsing through you, blinding you momentarily. You rode out your high on his fingers, before he removed them, smirking down at you as you gasped for air.
He was breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes that shined like the stars at night, full of love. His face, his lips and his hair - he was perfect the way he was.
And he was all yours.
His lips found yours again and he stroked himself, before he aligned his dick with your entrance.
Slowly, he inched forward, stretching you out in just the right way, the initial pain quickly fading into a feeling that was so much better.
When he was fully settled, he started to move, not giving you much time to adjust.
A throaty moan passed your lips, as his hands gripped your hips to steady himself. You fell into a steady rhythm, the familiar knot in your belly already forming again.
"Fuck." he breathed, one of his hands finding your breast, pinching your nipple. Moaning loudly your legs wrapped around his middle, taking him even deeper.
He thrust into you vigorously, your moans mixing together. But you wanted a change in position.
Pushing him back you sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion. You pushed him onto his back, causing him to chuckle knowingly, as he realized what you were doing.
Smirking, you straddled him, not wasting any time to sink down on him again. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, steadying you.
“Oh fuck…” His moan was like music to your ears, raw and unfiltered, as you started to move, up and down and up and down.
Skin slapped on skin, as he gripped your ass, helping you in your movement, when he suddenly stiffened, pulling you into his arms to cover you up.
"Tim wha-" you wanted to ask what happened, when you heard it.
"You better be kidding me!"
Flinching, your head snapped in the direction of your father's voice, body pressed against Tim, as your eyes widened.
"What the hell?" you yelled, your father's back turned towards you, one hand on his pistol.
"What the fuck?" Tim cut in. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"What the hell am I doing here?" your father bellowed, as you climbed off Tim, frantically searching for your clothes. "What the hell am I doing in my daughter's house? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
He shouted - never a good sign.
Tim searched for the right words, not sure how to explain, as you threw his shirt at him.
When you were both fully clothed your father had already left the bedroom, pacing in your living room.
Walking towards him you tried to come up with an explanation. It would have been useless to lie, so you decided to confront him with the truth.
"We're together." you spoke, swallowing. Fast and painless - just rip the bandaid off in one move.
Your gaze fixed on your father who so suddenly stopped, you thought time had paused for a second.
"You are what?" he yelled, anger clear as day on his face, a vein on his neck popping out. Tim stood somewhere behind you, not daring to say anything.
After all he was still his boss.
"We. Are. Together." you repeated word after word. "We are in a relationship. We love each other."
Your father's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, as he stared at you, mouth agape.
How we're you to explain, if he suddenly had a heart attack?
"You of all people!" he spoke angrily, pointing at Tim and you stood in front of him, blocking his way as your father took a step closer. Giving him a pointed look, he fell silent.
"Dad, I'm not thirteen anymore!" you tried to reason, shaking your head at him. "Im twenty-six! You don't have to protect me from men - and you definitely don't have the right to tell me who I date and who I don't!"
Blinking rapidly he tried to process your words.
"But-" he started, irritation clear on his face. "Y/N, you're my daughter! I told them you're off limits!"
Furrowing your brows you looked at him in disbelieve. "You did what?" you almost shouted. "God, you're so embarrassing!" His eyes were wide. "I am embarrassing? Seeing my daughter naked with a man - that is embarrassing!"
Your cheeks flushed, not wanting to be reminded of that, as you looked away.
Sighing he tried to find the right words, only making unintelligible sounds, though. "I can decide on my own who I want to be with, dad." you explained, brushing away a lose strand of hair.
"But-" he tried again, brows furrowed in sadness, and your heart grew heavy. "You're my daughter, my little girl! I can't just hand you off to any random guy!"
"What?" Tim interrupted, stepping forward. Rolling his eyes your father shook his head, fully knowing he could trust Tim Bradford.
If anyone, it was him.
It grew quiet, as you bit your lip, nervousness washing over you in waves. Would he fire Tim? Destroy his entire career just because he loved his daughter?
He sighed heavily, wiping over his face with his hand.
"Look, you didn't answer your phone all day so I got worried - and then I find you with him!" he explained, briefly pointing at Tim, who grabbed your hand, not letting go even as your father's jaw clenched at the sight.
"I'm not ready to hand you off just yet."
Closing your eyes for a moment you took a deep breath. "Sarge, I love your daughter and I want to be with her." Tim started, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
It would all be good.
"I'm not willing to give her up, just because you can't let go."
Your father's brows rose at the bluntness of his words, but he kept quiet, chewing on his cheek as he thought.
"What if you break her heart?" he wanted to know after a while, tilting his head. "Won't happen." Tim returned without a moment's hesitation.
You couldn't help but smile at his words. You loved him with all your heart and you knew he did the same.
Your father swallowed, nodding after a while, eyes glistening. "If you just so much as look at her in the wrong way, I will make the rest of your life a living hell." he swore Tim, huffing at his emotions taking over.
Letting go of Tim's hand you walked to your father, hugging him in relief. He returned the hug, his arms the same shelter as when you were just a small child.
"Thank you." you whispered, happy tears filling your eyes. "When he hurts you, just tell me and I'll get rid of him." he offered, letting go of you.
Judging by Tim's huff he heard his words, but you were sure he did it intentionally.
"I love you, dad." He smiled down at you, the emotions still clear on his distraught face. "I love you too, kiddo."
Rolling your eyes you hugged him again, before letting go and walking towards Tim.
Smiling up at him you took his hand back in yours. It would all be good. He returned the smile, still a little hesitant because of your father's presence.
Standing on your tip toes you kissed him, causing your father to immediately protest.
"No!"
Tim Through the Years - The Third Date
Series Masterlist
Summary: Tim takes you to play paintball and learns something new about you. 0.7k+ words
Every date with Tim made you more convinced he’s one of the good ones. So, when Tim approached you after work and asked if you wanted to play paintball with him, your answer was an enthusiastic “Yes!”
Tim promised he’d take it easy on you and teach you how to use the paintball gun and strategize to win, and you smiled and nodded instead of telling him that you’ve used a gun before. He was just so excited.
“Are you ready for this?” Tim asked as you got into his truck.
“That depends,” you answered with a smile. “Are we going to be on the same team or is it every man for himself?”
“The same team, of course,” Tim promised. “At least until I show you the basics.”
“Right.”
At the range, Tim checked out the equipment you needed and carried it to a dressing area. After he set everything down, he turned to you with a bright smile. You matched his smile and stepped closer to him, quickly glancing toward the gun.
“Okay, so this is your gun,” Tim said while lifting it and passing it toward your chest. “It’s a semi-automatic .68 caliber. So, you just pull the trigger when you’re ready to shoot, and the paintball comes out.”
“Got it,” you assured, taking the gun. “Straightforward.”
“It’ll kick a little bit, so just don’t hold it too high.”
“Tim, I think I can handle pulling the trigger of a paintball gun. Unless you’re scared of losing to a kindergarten teacher,” you taunted.
“I’m a highly trained police officer,” Tim responded. “You don’t stand a chance.”
You twisted the gun in your hand and pulled it against your shoulder, too close to your sternum. Tim shook his head, and you furrowed your brows. Carefully, Tim covered your hands with his and shifted the gun to a more comfortable position.
“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t make sure you did it right?” Tim murmured.
“One that’s desperate to win,” you teased softly.
Tim looked up, face-to-face with you, and smiled. “I won’t let you win.”
“Maybe not on purpose.”
“We’ll see.”
“Are you this confident when your students challenge you?”
“Are you this confident when a criminal challenges you?”
Tim shook his head and leaned in, but before he got close enough to kiss you, he pulled the strap of his paintball gun over his head. With his helmet on, he gestured over his shoulder to show that he planned to find a place on this course. Alone, you sighed and prepared yourself to show Tim that you would win, whether he liked it or not.
“Thanks for the hunting lessons, Dean,” you murmured as you pulled the helmet down over your face.
You ducked behind a wooden barrel, surprised by how quickly Tim moved through the Old West-themed shelters and decorations. Tim is in situations more dangerous than this daily, yet his competitiveness is more intense than you anticipated. When he raised from behind a sideways saloon door, you exhaled as you squeezed the trigger. Nine pops sounded one after another, and you waited for Tim to regain his balance and catch his breath before you raised your helmet visor and stood.
“How was that?” you asked, failing to hide your smile.
“What was that?” Tim countered as he removed his helmet. “I thought this was your first time!”
“It is my first time. Playing paintball,” you explained. “But my brothers took me hunting… a lot. Tim, my last name is Winchester, did you seriously think I wouldn’t have fired a gun before?”
“I…” Tim trailed off and dropped his head, finally looking at his shirt. “Did you paint a heart on me?”
“I did,” you cheered with a smile. “You look so cute.”
“There’s going to be a bruise there tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to kiss it better?”
Tim hesitated before he answered. Rather than saying yes, please, he asked, “Go another round? On the same team?”
“Oh, I see how it is. You don’t want me on your team unless I can carry my weight.”
“This was a practice round,” Tim defended.
“Is that why you didn’t fire a single paintball?”
Tim huffed as he pulled you closer by the strap over your shoulder. “We’ll be better as a team, you know that.”
“I do,” you whispered in the proximity. “Should we go show everyone else?”
“We should.”
You raised as if you were going to kiss Tim, then slid your helmet back onto your head. He smiled at your teasing but wondered something as he followed you toward the front of the range.
“What were you hunting that taught you to shoot like that?”
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Manny Rivera x Blakc!OC (can be read as reader though)
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Manny and Naoya’s meet cute
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - swearing, grammar errors,
𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬! - It’s been a while…a long while. Sorry for any mistakes or errors, as if said, it’s been a long while and I sort of forgot where I was going with this storyline without having to watch season 2 over. Plus, I also just took what you guys were saying and started at the beginning of the season where Manny shows up. I wanted to get there quickly as well. Most of my fics for characters do follow the show/movie they come from because I’m not that creative, so spare me please. I also have to come up with ideas for just some one one one time between him and the reader, if you guys want to see anything in particular let me know. Also, this is just a little some to hold you guys over for the time being. I plan on editing t this afternoon little before the other chapters come out. I wrote this sleep deprived.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭! - 5,895
“Yurrr!! What it do Camera Crew?” Ava beamed as she opened the doors for the infamous camera crew. “Welcome back to the house that Ava built. It’s been a while.” She grinned.
“It’s not like they’ve missed anything,” Naoya said in a monotone as she came out of the office with papers in her hands. She then flashed them a small, but genuine, smile. “Nice seeing you though.” She said softly.
“Hey! Look who it is!” Melisa said as she got into step with them. “What’s it’s been? Like, five months? How you doin'?” She grinned.
Gregory then came out of his classroom, seeing his fellow coworkers and the new and improved camera crew. “Oh, what’s up? We still doing this?” He asked.
“Yeah.” Naoya and Ava answered, although their tones varied.
The cameraman then turned around at the sound of excited giggles from afar, catching Jacob beam at the sight of them. “Oh, my God! You guys! Hey!” He cheesed as he jogged up to them, bumping into the cameras. “Oh! Sorry.” He said as he straighter the camera up. “Um, wow. You got new equipment. Look, I don’t wanna say I told you so, but—.”
“I will!” Naoya said, pushing her friend so she could be in view. “You should’ve listened to me and Jacob when we said to make a right on 30th street instead of a left that night.” She said, squinting at them with a point before walking away. Ava nodded in agreement.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“You want me to tell you what happened to you?” Ava asked the person behind the camera confused. “Oh, right. Tell the people.” She said before her usual grin spread across her face. “So, they got robbed.” She stated bluntly. “Because they thought it’d be cute to walk around West Philly at night with all this camera equipment. Hell, I’d have robbed you if I was there.” She told them. “Anyway, here we are, five months later because that’s how long it takes for three people with art degrees to save up for new cameras. Welcome back! It’s Career Day today.” She finished enthusiastically before it all dropped within a second. “Unfortunately.”
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“Why would you not listen to someone from Philly when they say don’t do stupid shit in the city?” Naoya asked, looking at the people behind the camera. “We tried to tell you and look what happened. You’re lucky you weren’t held at gunpoint.” She said as she crossed her arms. She paused, looking at the face of the camera crew. “You were held at gunpoint? Oh…” She cringed. “Why the hell did you come back? Are you getting cut a check? Because it must be good.” She stated. “And if you are I want in, I don’t care how much money you think I have.” She said.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
The camera crew then caught the teachers walking into the library as they all waited for some meeting by the district. Naoya took her seat in front of Ava, flashing a confused look at the other when she saw the glasses on the woman’s face.
“Ava!” Barbra yelled, spooking the woman awake. “Not planning on being conscious for Career Day?”
“This is a district initiative. They can handle it.” She frowned, relaxing back into her seat with those glasses still on. “Anyone else feels like the people from the district have been more annoying than usual?”
“They’re not all bad.” Barbra waved her off.
“I think they’re cool.” Jacob chimed in from the other table. Naoya looked back at him, squinting. “Stay at your own table.” She told him, causing Jacob to frown at her in confusion, even though he didn’t take it to heart.
“I actually like them this year.” Gregory chimed in.
“You too,” Naoya said again.
“Shocking,” Melissa said, giving the man a knowing look that he tried to avoid.
“I don’t know, I feel like they’ve been unequivocally and universally worse than they’ve ever been. From unhelpful to unbearable.” Evan complained.
“Wow, what big words for you Ava.” Naoya jutted with an evil smile, turning away before she could see the woman lift her glasses to give her a dirty look. Naoya just continued to smile, looking into the camera even though she could feel the hard gaze on her back.
“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Janine grinned as she walked into the room with her district coworker behind her. Naoya smirked as she looked her up and down, slightly nodding her head at a chipper and well-dressed Janine. Her eyes then caught a familiar pair behind the short woman, the man smiling at the woman sitting before him. Noaya flashed him a quick smile, causing his to grow as they stared at one another. She tilted her head, looking up at him as he leaned against his weight against the table behind him.
“Hey.” He mouthed to her, not taking his eyes away from her.
“Hi.” Naoya cheesed, lighting biting her bottom lip as she looked into his warm gaze.
“Good morning Abbott Elementary.” Ava mocked from behind her, then received a tap from Barb. Janine smiled, seeing the camera crew was back.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“So, yeah, I work for the school district now.” She beamed. “You guys missed a lot.”
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫…
Janine gave the camera a quick smile and wave as she walked into the auditorium, moving to find a spot in the chairs lined up. She chose to sit in one of the empty spots next to Gregory, who was behind Naoya, who was across from Jacob.
“Left for right?” The man asked.
“Uh, left.” She answered before taking the seat.
“Good choice.” Gregory grinned.
“Thank you,” Janine said. Naoya frowned, raising her eyes from the handbook in her lap and making eye contact with the cameras a few feet away. She didn’t move her head, not wanting to be obvious, but her face showed enough.
“Girl this development day has me developing a migraine.” Barbra groaned from her seat next to Melissa, who was popping a pill into her mouth before downing water in her cup. The pair sat in front of Jacob.
“Let me have one of those aspirins, please,” Barbra asked, holding out her hand.
“It’s a sleeping pill,” Melissa said. “Wake me if there’s a fire, a tornado, or a volcanic eruption.” She sighed. “I know that’s right,” Naoya mumbled to herself, not looking up from her papers.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“What?” She asked with a shrug. “I told you guys I hear and know everything. I’m nosy, okay? That’s isn’t a crime.” It was silent for a moment before the woman gave the person a confused look. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?” She asked as she lifted her hands to her face.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“Good day to the fine teachers of Abbott Elementary,” Ava said into the microphone. The majority of the teachers in the room then turned to look at Gregory and Naoya, who was shocked by the odd attention she’s been getting as of late. The pair sat there awkwardly, Naoya more so trying to convince herself that they couldn’t be staring at her.
“What?” Ava asked them.
“No comment about Gregory being “F I O N, fine?” Melissa asked.
“Or whatever’s different about Noaya that’s making her more attractive this year.” Jacob chimed in, causing everyone to look his way, but he was too busy staring at his friend across from him. Naoya gave the man a confused and slightly disturbed look. “Aren’t you gay?” She asked him
“I’m starting to question it.” He said, making her eyes widen and look away from him.
“No, Mr.Hill and Ms.Schemmenti.” Ava chimed back in a little aggressively. “I was speaking to everyone. But since all eyes are on them, uh, Mr.Eddie would you mind reading from the first paragraph of your immaculately assembled binder?” She said a polite smile on her face. If Naoya wasn’t so disturbed, she’d frown her the woman’s behavior, but she couldn’t help but spiral inwardly due to the way everyone was acting.
“Sexily?” Gregory asked unsurely.
“Excuse me?” Ava asked. “That’s is not only suggestive but highly inappropriate in front of our company,” Ava said before gesturing over to the trio that stood at the other end of the stage. Naoya’s eyes jumped to them, eyeing the tall man in the sweater for a brief moment, who just so happened to already be glancing her way. At the newfound attention, the man called his throat before speaking, looking away from the woman. “Uh, hi. Hi, everybody.” He said as she made his way into the center of the over to the podium for the microphone. “We’re from the school district. Principe Colman invited us to come, observe, and collaborate with you all on this Development Day.” He said.
Naoya slightly tilted her head as she analyzed the man, admiring his obvious strive appearance.
“Yes!” Ava said in the mic. “The importance of collaboration is one of the many things I learned while I was matriculating at Cambridge.” She boasted. Naoya gave the camera a deadpanned look.
“We’re super excited to be here.” The man spoke again. “On behalf of the new superintendent, John Reynolds. I’m Manny. That’s my dream team over there.” He gestured to the pair from his original position. “That’s Emily. That’s Simon. And we don’t come empty-handed. We’ve come with some iPads and SMART boards for your classrooms, loaded with learning apps.” He explained, causing the teachers to clap. Naoya just sat there though, her hands clasped over her crossed legs with a disinterested look on her face.
“New and improved model,” Melissa stated as she leaned closer to Barbra.
“Same old engines.” The other woman said. “These people aren’t going to change a blessed thing, except how many bodies are in the room.”
“Thank you. We’ll see you around.” Manny finished with a grin, his eyes trailing back to Naoya. She sat there, face blank as she looked the man up and down. Manny smirked at that, before looking away as he made his way back to his team.
“Gregory, we still need you to read from section ‘A’., there in your binder,” Ava stated.
Gregory stood from his seat, binder in hand. “ ‘Section A. Welcome back.’ That’s concluded section ‘A’.” He said before closing the booklet.
“Thank you, Mr.Eddie. You may be seated.” There was light applause after that, most uninterested or highly confused.
Softly, as if she wasn’t away she was in front of a mic, Ava began to read from her notes. “As the teacher, if they have any ideas from over the summer they’d like to implement. Try to make it fun.” She said to herself. She sighed before moving away from the podium. She struggled for a bit before doing a small dance, asking the question over again. “Does anyone have any ideas from over the summer that they’d like to implement?”
Janine raised her hands.
“Janine!” Ava said. “One of our most…teachers at Abbott.”
“So I was thinking over the summer while I was spending time with myself and just thinking about, like, what really led me to this point in my life.” She began.
Melissa yawned. “Get to the point.” She groaned with her head back.
“Get to the point, Janine,” Barbra said.
“Yeah, okay. So, a Career Day?” Janine suggested. “We should do career day at the school because I checked and we haven’t had one since the only jobs for women were typists, moms, and wet nurses.” She explained. “I think it’s a great way for the kids to see all of the amazing jobs they can have. And that’s it. That’s my idea. I’m done. Career Day.” She quickly finished before taking her seat. Naoya nodded, turning in her seat to look at the girl.
“That was an amazing idea, Neen.” She said, causing the shorter woman to smile. Naoya nodded as she looked at her friend for a while longer. “How much time did you spend alone, exactly?” She asked, causing Janine's smile to slightly drop. Before she could answer, Naoya waved her off. “It doesn’t matter, I was alone too.” She said, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I’m gonna say my idea now.” She said before Janine or Gregory, who was listening, could comment on anything.
She raised her hand, catching Ava’s attention, as well as the people on the stage. “Yes, Miss Lovell.” She said. Naoya jerked her head back at Ava’s use of her professional name before she just shook her head at it. “I was thinking of a librarian.” She said. “A better library program, actually. New books, more books, better books. Just an improvement of that old wretched system that keeps losing the books I put in there.” She said through a strained smile at the thought of all the books she’d donated, only for them to end up missing. Manny looked the woman up and down from his place on the stage, watching the way the sun seemed to shine through the room only for her, dressed in fun colors and her quirky glasses.
“I could name a plethora of reasons those Ideas won’t work.” Ava began, barely listening to their suggestions. “Scheduling, previous failed attempts, that’s the fact that it’s was your ideas.” She said, gesturing between the two. Naoya jerked her head back at the woman’s audacity while Janine tried to save herself.
“Right, but there is a way—.”
“But I’m just gonna go ahead and say no and save yourself the embarrassment.” Ava cut in. Janine leaned back in her seat while Naoya raised her middle finger at the woman on stage, not caring for the guests who were visiting the school.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“I’m never suggesting anything again.” She hissed as she leaned against the lockers. “It’s one thing to try and embarrass me in front of my coworkers who already live pathetic lives and make less money than me. It’s another to do it in front of sexy company. She’s gonna pay one way or another.”
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
Naoya was walking next to Janine, the shorter woman looking her friend up and down. “There is something different about you that I just can’t put my finger on.” She said skeptically, causing Naoya to slightly frown at her. “You are glowing though.” She shrugged.
Before Naoya could speak on the matter, they were intercepted by the voice. “Hey, Janine. Ms.Lovell.” They said, causing the girl to turn around. “I’m Manny, which I said up there.” He stumped as she held out his hand. Janie shook his first before he moved into Naoya. The man hiked as he looked her in the eye, Naoya’s face blank as she placed her hand into his, giving his large hand a firm shake.
“You can call me Naoya.” She said with a small smile. She couldn’t help it. She tried to stay stoic in front of the man but there was something about him that just made her all giddy and gooey inside, especially now that they were up close and she felt his skin on hers, even if it was a simple handshake.
“Naoya.” He tested the name on his tongue as he continued to look her in the eye, both parties loving the way it sounded. “I love that.” He said until he was aware of what he said. And also aware that his hand was still in hers. “Name. I love that name. It’s cool and different.” He said, before pulling his hand away. Noaya nodded, letting out a small huff of a laugh. “Thanks.” She said, placing her hand behind her back. Janine’s eyes snapped to the cameras near them, slightly shocked written onto her features.
“Uh, I just wanted to say, that, uh, Career Day and the Library Program sounded good.” He began. “They’re good ideas and I would love to hear more.”
“Thank you!” Janine said. “So you guys are new at the district?” She asked.
“Yep. Just started over the summer. Loving it so far.” He explained, looking between the two. “Feel like we’re going to make a lot of positive changes and do what the last administration didn’t. Nobody embezzling funds in my watch.” He joked, causing Naoya to giggle. Janie was taken aback, looking at her and the cameras at Naoya's unusual behavior. “Funny.” The taller woman simply stated before beginning to make her way out of the auditorium.
“Oh, hey.” Manny began again, stopping her while Janine stayed stationary. “Actually one of the things we wanted to do today was shadow some teachers. Are you two up for it?” He asked, looking between them. Naoya glanced at Janine, who shrugged, before looking back at Manny and doing the same. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna be setting up my classroom.” She said.
“Same,” Janine stated.
“Exciting!” Manny grinned.
Naoya nodded, a fond smile on her face. “It’s is exciting. I’m a pretty creative and free spirit.” She grinned. “Yeah? Well, I’m just gonna grab my coworkers.” He grinned. “They're talking to Principle Coleman over there. You guys are so lucky you have such a good principle.” He said. Janine awkwardly smiled while Naoya just pursed her lips.
“Yeah.” Janie agreed, nodding as the man walked away.
Noaya watched him with a small smirk before sighing and twirling around, her straightend hair flowing behind her. Janine squinted as she watched the woman practically skip away in glee, Manny not too far behind.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“That’s what it is!” Janine grinned primal at the cameras. “She’s not wearing her contacts.” She grinned proudly. It didn’t last long though, slightly dropping as she looked at the camera, thinking it over more.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“No,” Naoya said to the camera, an almost offended look on her face. “I wear my glasses almost all the time. Granted, these are new frames, but why the hell? These people know nothing about me.”
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“So, where’d you teach before picturing to the school district?” Noaya asked as She, Janine, Manny, and his crew walked to their classrooms.
“I didn’t, actually.” Manny averted sheepishly. Janine flashed a look to the camera while Naoya hummed in acknowledgment with a purse of her lips. “But I grew up here, though.” He quickly added. “My first-hand experience is more from when I was a student in the area.” He said as Janine led them into her room.
“Oh, alright.” The shorter woman nodded. “Well, you know, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to teach at Abbott.” She said. “Because I was a student in the area, as well, so…” She shrugged. “This is my room.” She said to them.
“What are you making here?” Emily asked, gesturing to the table where a tone of colored paper and glue was laid out.
“Oh, A ‘Welcome Back’ sign for the kids. Naoya was helping me paint.” She grinned, gesturing over to the woman next to her. “We’re gonna decorate it together so that everyone feels included. I try to implement a lot of color. I wanted to go with blue because that inspires focus.” She began to explain.
“And calm, which is so important for primary classes.” Manny chimed in. “I read about that in Chalkbeat.” He grinned. Naoya tilted her head at that, flashing the camera a Quick Look as she glanced between the two.
“You read Chalkbeat?” Janine asked, a smile starting to spread across her face.
“Mm-hmm.” Manny hummed.
“I basically live in the comment section, so…” She chortled.
“Oh, my God. Are you @JTeaguee215?” He asked as he stepped sideward a little, an excited grin on his face. “Yes!” Janine said enthusiastically. Naoya softly nodded her head, glancing at the camera when it tried to catch her tense facial expression at the exchange.
“And @JTeagues267 when I wanna spice up the discourse.” She continued.
“Ms.Teagues, I’m @MannyFromTheBlock. I’m always using this emoji.” He said before doing a salute. Janie gaped at him in shock. “That’s you!”
“That’s me.” He grinned.
“I love your comments,” Janine stated with a grin.
“I love your comments.” He smiled back.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
“Fuck!” She yelled in the hallway, turning away from the cameras as she her fist j to the lockers, making a loud sound.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
Janine continued onto fine before glancing at Naoya, who had taken several steps back and looked to be on her way out of the room. When the other woman saw her looking, she flashed a tight smile before looking away. Janine eyes subtly squinted in confusion before she continued. “Anyways.” She began, brushing the interaction off. “Naoya wanted to paint the walls blue last year, but you guys—the district—didn’t like the idea of pinging walls, so…” She shrugged, explaining for the other woman.
“What!? Why not? That’s is so good.” Manny responded, his eyes sifting to the distant figure of the other woman. “I think that’s exactly an idea that we could and should implement.” He said softly, examining her awkward grin. The woman just nodded, rubbing the back of her neck while Janine glanced at the cameras at the tension hiking within the room.
“It’s a low-stakes, high-reward improvement,” Emily stated, glancing Naoya’s way.
“Yes. Let’s revise that.” Simone grinned. Janine pursed her lips, making a funny face as she looked away from them. The trio looked at the woman funny. “Are you okay?” Simone asked.
“Yeah,” Janine asked. “Just a lot of positive reinforcement. I usually only get that from Ms.Love back here.” She awkwardly chuckled, pointing to the woman next—behind—her. That caused all of their eyes to drift to the woman, who seemed dither than she was before. She stood by the other door, her hands stuffed in her pockets now that eyes were on her while she was almost away from them.
“Are you okay?” Janine asked, looking at the woman confused, her mood a complete flip from earlier.
“No,” Naoya said simply before twirling around and skipping to her room. Janine paused, glancing back at the trio as they all watched the woman leave, Manny with a small smile on his face. “She’s a wonderful woman.” She began, stealing out of the door. “A soft chocolate chunk cookie with crispy edges. Her words not mind, they’re in her Twitter bio.” She said, trying to fill the air with something. The trio nodded at that. Janine lightly cleared her throat before making her way to Naoya’s room. “Let’s follow her, shall we.” She said softly, the others trailing behind her.
They made it to her door, looking into the classroom as Naoya rearranged the comfy furniture she had the way she wanted it.
“Wow.” Manny sighed from the door before making his way into the room. Naoya turned at the voice to see the group, said the man looking around as he trailed in.
“This is really nice.” He said softly before letting his eyes fall on her.
Naoya’s face held a small grin as she nodded. “Thank you. I try.” She shrugged.
“It’s cozy in here.” Emily grinned as she made her way around the different sections.
Noaya's eyes snapped over to her as she pushed a small couch over to the rug she had laid out in between the bookshelves. “Yeah, I try to keep it that way.” She said, pairing the seat. “I hate—The kids hate fluorescent lighting.” She chuckled nervously, shooting them a quick look. “But some do come on when it’s instruction time.” She added to save her ass.
Manny grinned at her as he nodded his head. Janie looked between them with a small smile before glancing at the watching cameras, her expression dropping.
“That’s actually really important.” He began. “Such lightening for long hours does nothing for brain stimulation.” He said. Noaya glanced at him, lightly nodding. “Yeah, it actually has the opposite effect. Weakens memory retention causes migraines” She said. Manny hummed, looking at her. “It’s why they have them in prisons.” She added, quickly turning away from them and then moving over to a box that sat on a table. Manny’s eyes tricker after her, not wasting time before stepping closer as he watched her.
“What’s this section for?” Simone asked, watching as the woman set a box on the ground in front of an empty shelf, flanked by small bookshelves on either side. “Oh, this is my relaxation saltation.” Naoya grinned as she lifted the clear top of the record player, and then reached down to pull out a vinyl from the box. “Well, that’s what it is now.” She said as she placed the Minnie Riperton record onto the player. “It used to be where I taught the kids music. As best I could though. We didn’t have a music teacher here for a while.” She said sheepishly, glancing at them. “Now it’s called the relaxation station. The kids like coming over and picking out their songs. It’s a reward for good behavior.” She shrugged before pressing the machine on, the classroom then being filled with the soft sound of Les Fleurs by Minne Riperton.
“Wow,” Manny said softly, not taking his eye off the woman. “That’s amazing.” He said, this team nodding as they looked around the comfy section. “Naoya glanced at him, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you.” She said softly. They stayed each other in the eye for what felt like forever before the woman gulped and looked away from him, trying to find something to occupy herself. She looked down, her eyes going to the box of records she needed to put away. She squatted as she began unloading them into the section at the bottom of the shelf. She handled the old-school records with care, not wanting to damage the already torn covering and hurt the disc.
Manny couldn’t help but watch with a fond look in his eye, the colorful woman in her own world as she worked, her lips softly singing the song playing in the background.
“What’s this on the board?” Emily asked from the other side of the room, catching their attention. Naoya had just finished when she stood up, rubbing her hands against her jeans. She quickly glanced at Manny, who was already looking at her, before her eyes trailed to the questioning woman near the board, who pointed at the Kanji.
“Oh, those are just words I she a lot so I put Kanji next to them so the kids become familiar.” She said as she walked closer. “We also didn’t have a language teacher here for a while so…” She tried off with a shrug. “I was teaching them the Spanish I learned from the bodega guy growing up but he wasn’t saying anything children should be.” She grinned tensely at them. “Now I just inform them on Japanese when we have free time or if they’re curious, which they usually are.”
“Why Japanese?” Simon asked. Naoya glanced between all of them, a small smile on her face.
“I’m Japanese.” She said with a small smile. “It’s my first language. My mom was a nurse and an English teacher over there for a long time.” She sighed. The other hummed, surprised at the new revelation while Manny admired the woman.
“My mother was a teacher as well.” He said, causing the woman to look his way. “It’s part of the reason why I work at the district now.” He said softly. Noaya started at him, mother of the faces faltering from their soft expressions. She just nodded at what he said. Because she could speak, as if she was going to, Janine spoke up.
“What’s this one mean?” The woman asked, pointing at the unfamiliar Kanji on the board.
“Oh, it’s just love.” She shrugged. “I put it on the board at the beginning of each year because if I was a teacher in Japan, that would be my name.” She said. “Sensei Ai or Ai-aan.” She stated in Japanese, ignoring the impressed looks she gathered from the crew as she continued to explain. “Even though Ai is the general term of love and affection.” She shrugged.
“That is so amazing,” Simon said with a proud grin, looking at the woman. “There is such a diversity of cultures and learning in this classroom. What grade do you teach?” He asked. Naoya was slightly taken aback by his apparent enthusiasm, looking at the man with a small smile. “Fourth grade.” She said.
“Mhm, that’s when all the magic starts to happen.” He said, causing Naoya to nod. Manny glanced between the two, his smile slightly strained as he watched them interact.
“Yeah,” Naoya said. “There is a significant development in their cognitive abilities. The children become more logical and critical thinkers, alongside increased independence, stronger social connections with peers, and a growing awareness of social hierarchies, often navigating feelings like peer pressure and the desire to fit in. They also start thinking more about abstract ideas, and not just about things they can observe.” She explained. Everyone in the room looked at the woman in shock, taking in the information she just dumped on them.
“I majored in Psychology for Human Growth and Development. I was gonna be a children’s therapist but I realized my heart can’t really handle all that.” She said. Some hummed with the other nodded at the woman.
“Well, aren’t you the gift that just keeps on giving? Full of unexpected but pleasant surprises.” Simone said, grinning at the woman. Naoya laughed, waving him off before turning to find something else to do in her class. Manny’s eyes trailed after hard, glancing between her and his coworker.
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
Noaya was walking down the hall, talking to Gregory when Janine came out of her classroom, spotting the two. “Oh, hey! Fancy seeing you here.” She joked, speaking to Gregory. “Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing to the boxes the pair held.
“Just bringing the books in.” The man said. “Oh, there is a ten-for-ten sale at Nichols Schola Supplies, by the way.” He said while Noaya nodded.
“Oh fuck yeah,” Janine said, catching the two off guard.
“What the hell?” Noaya stated in shock.
“Trying out cursing. Still getting the hang of it.” Janine sighed, seeing their confused and shocked faces. “No was Baltimore?” She quickly tried to change the subject. Noaya sighed, sensing where the conversation was going, and moved to carry the box she held in Gregory’s classroom.
“It was so flat!” Was the first thing she heard from Gregory when she exited the class after luring the box down. She cried in confusion, looking at the cameras before making her way over to the pair.
“What’s you do over the break?” Gregory asked her before glancing over when Naoya came closer, squinting at her. “You too, now that I’m thinking about it.” He said.
“I just spent a lot of time with myself,” Janine answered. “And it was good for me. I feel, sure, centered, good.” She listed with a content smile. “Oh, Jacob, Noaya, Erika and I started going out to brunch together. We’re calling ourselves the Brunch Bunch.” She joked.
“Why not just the Brunch Bunch?” Gregory asked.
“I thought it was just the Brunch Bunch? That’s why I named the group chat.” Naoya said, her brows furrowed.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Janine said. Naoya pursed her lips while Gregory let out a tense exhale, Janine, looked between the two.
“It’s just not working for me, is it?” Janine asked.
“Not quite there,” Gregory said.
“Fuck, no.” Noaya scoffed. Janine snapped her fingers, pointing at the woman. “See, that sounds so much better.” She said. Noaya cocky shrugged before her eyes caught a finger coming up behind Janine.
“Hey,” Manny said. “Teacher of the Year. Gregory Eddie.” He said in his odd accent that she couldn’t help but find endearing. “I heard about that garden you made out front. Really cool, man.” He said.
“Oh! Thanks.” Gregory said. “I like to do it and it makes the school and the street look nice.” He explained with a small shrug.
“Sure does,” Manny said before looking between the two women. “Uh, Ms.Lovell, Ms.Teauges, could I speak to you two for a quick second? Sorry to interrupt.” He said to Gregory. Janine nodded. “Oh, yeah. All good. And you can call me Janine.” She said as she led the man into her room. Gregory and Noaya shared a look before they glanced at the cameras. They then went their separate ways, her into Janine’s class while he went into his own.
“Well, uh, Janine.” Manny begun. “I was talking with the other from the school district. And you two seem to have a ton of great ideas.” Manny complimented, looking between the pair. Janine smiled proudly at him while Noaya shrugged softly.
“There’s this fellowship—.”He started again. “The Robeson Fellowship at the district. We want somebody with in-field experience to come to enhance what the district can do to make schools as efficient as possible.” He explained.
“That sounds like a great opportunity,” Janine said. “I'm pretty sure I can help you find somebody for that.” She stated, glancing at the woman next to her.
“Well, no, I had one of you in mind for it,” Manny said, glancing between the two. Noaya’s eyes widened, immediately shook her head. “Oh! That’s amazing but.” She chicken’s nervously and in shock. “I can’t.” She sighed, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t.
“Yeah.” Janine echoed. “I’m flattered but, you know, the summer is when I get a little bit of a break away from school.” She said, causing Noaya to point over at her in agreement.
“This would be doing the school year,” Manny stated.
“But that’s when we’re doing the schooling,” Noaya stated, brows furrowed as she gestured to her class.
“Yes, well, a sub would take over your class. While you’re with us for your duration of the fellowship.” He said. Naoya’s brows raised as she nodded at his words, taking them in. Janine, on the other hand, scoffed out a chuckle. “Sorry, but no.” She said. “I can’t imagine being away from my students, so… I’m flattered but, no, thank you.” She said.
Manny grinned, letting out a small chuckle. “Okay, alright.” He said before he then turned to Naoya, who had her hand behind her back. Her eyes widened slightly, taking in what the man was saying. “Uh, I’ll think it over.” She said with a nervous smile. “I would have to plan so much and, you know, I only have so many ideas.” She shrugged.
“And I bet they’re all great,” Manny told her, his voice very sure of himself as he looked at the woman. Noaya nodded her head, offering him a small smile. “Okay.” She said. Manny nodded before moving his way out of the room. He was on his way out of the room before he turned around, looking between the two.
“Just give it some real thought, okay?” He said, his eyes mainly on Noaya. “You can help make some real change around here. Creative and culturally diverse ideas—.”His eye then trailed to Janine. “And painted walls are just the start.” He gave Noaya another smile, showing his there before making his way out of the room.
Once he was away Noaya sighed, throwing her head back. “I’m gonna go complain to Jacob.” She sighed before exiting the room to make her way upstairs.
Choose a Side
The Bradfords Series Masterlist (4/?)
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader
Summary: Lucy asks for your opinion on a date, not expecting you to take sides. You do choose a side, but not the one she thinks.
Warnings: fluff, banter, grumpy!Tim
Word Count: 1.3k+ words
A/N: There are two random references in this (an Eric Winter movie and a previous Tim fic). Which is completely irrelevant. Enjoy.
The station is quiet when you walk through, but you know better than to get comfortable in the calm moment. It’s not superstition for you, just that you know the people you work with, and even if there aren’t many calls, it still won’t stay quiet for long.
“Hey!” Lucy calls behind you.
You smile at her interruption and stop walking so she can catch up to you. As she approaches, you notice that she’s looking over your shoulder.
“Is Tim with you?” she asks.
“No,” you answer, “he’s helping Angela with a case. Do you need him?”
“What I need is a second opinion and I do not want his.”
“Okay,” you drawl. “What’s up?”
“So, I’m going on a date tonight.”
“Please don’t say it’s with a cop,” you murmur.
“With a firefighter.” Lucy stops and tilts her head to ask, “Is it really that bad to be with another cop?”
You raise your hand to her arm and smile. “Lucy, I’m kidding. Tell me more.”
“His name is Alex. He’s been a firefighter for a few years since he got out of the Army. We actually met while playing tug-of-war and he was super flirty, but apparently he actually likes me!”
You ignore the odd way they met and choose to say, “Don’t sound so surprised he’s interested. When’s the date?”
“What date?”
You and Lucy look up together, wide-eyed at the sight of Tim approaching. He furrows his brows and keeps his eyes on you rather than looking at Lucy.
“I’m cheating on you?” you try.
“What date?” Tim repeats, completely ignoring your attempt to remove suspicion from Lucy.
“I have a date,” Lucy admits, “with a former soldier who is now a firefighter.”
“Killer turned arsonist. Way to pick them, Chen.”
“You were a soldier,” you point out.
Tim turns his chin toward you long enough to argue, “And you used to be nice to me.”
“Tim," you warn.
“Didn’t your last boyfriend leave you so heartbroken you bought jewelry from the evidence room?” Tim asks.
“I bought that because I like it,” Lucy defends, crossing her arms across her chest. “This is different.”
“Which station does he work at?” Tim inquires.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes,” you answer, with Tim. You frown as you add, “Sorry.”
“29,” Lucy says quietly. She raises her voice and glares at Tim to challenge, “Do you want his shoe size and social security number as well?”
“Lucy, some of the stations are known for having firefighters that are terrible people. Trust me, I’ve met more than my fair share on calls,” you explain. “Tim’s just trying to look out for you on that one.”
“Oh, so you’re taking his side. That’s great!”
“Lucy,” you reply with a laugh. “29 is a good station, right down the road, so we would know if it wasn’t. They’re good people.”
“As good as firefighters can be, you mean,” Tim adds. “What’s his last name?”
“Tim,” you chide. “That’s none of your business.”
“There can’t be that many guys named Alex at station 29.”
Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, and you snatch it out of his hand.
“If you call Nell to ask about him, I will take Kojo and Lucy to the station on my lunch break to hang out with firefighters.”
Tim shakes his head before he turns to face Lucy.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working instead of talking about date night outfits?” he asks.
“Oh, outfits!” Lucy exclaims. “We didn’t get that far!”
“Nope,” Tim interrupts. “Get to the shop, we’re going on patrol.”
“But I never got a second opinion.” Lucy pouts as she looks toward you, and you smile.
“Lucy, it sounds like you and Alex get along really well. You should go, have fun, and just see where the relationship may be able to go.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Lucy says, raising her arms to hug you.
“Boot,” Tim barks when the hug lasts for a second too long. “Shop.”
“He’s so grumpy today,” Lucy whispers in your ear as she pulls back.
Tim nods at you before he turns to follow Lucy to the garage. You look down at his phone in your hand and smile. He’ll realize before he leaves and come back for it, and this time, you will let him know that you really did pick a side.
“I need that,” Tim says as he returns.
You tuck his phone behind your back and use your other hand to grip the collar of Tim’s uniform and pull him closer. Face-to-face, you look into his eyes before you speak.
“Don’t look into him,” you demand.
Tim’s brows pinch before he asks, “What do you mean?”
“Tim Bradford, if you start a fire just to meet Lucy’s date, it will look like you care about her. A lot.”
Tim clears his throat softly, then nods once. “Can I go now?”
“Sure,” you agree, smiling as you release his collar and step back. “But she’ll tell me if you interrogate her in the car.”
“Why does it matter who my boot dates or when?” Tim inquires as he straightens his shirt.
“I don’t know, Tim. Why does it?”
Tim grumbles as he takes his phone from your hand.
“I love you,” you call after him.
“Not as much as Alex, apparently.”
“This is by far the most illegal but sweet thing you’ve ever done,” you tell Tim. “Pretzels?”
“It’s not illegal,” Tim argues, extending his hand for a snack. “We’re just enjoying a date night. What’s wrong with that?”
“The fact that we’re not just enjoying a date night. Tim, you’re watching someone else’s date.”
“You can’t say you’re not interested.”
“I can,” you argue, lifting your phone. “I’m watching a cheesy romcom about a widower who owns a restaurant and coaches little league but falls in love with the woman who wants to buy him out.”
“Riveting,” Tim mumbles, turning back toward the restaurant. “Where’d she go?”
The back door behind you opens before Lucy slides into the car. You offer the bag of convenience store snacks over your shoulder, and she accepts it to look for her favorite candy. Which, of course, you bought for her. Uncomfortable with Lucy's presence, Tim shifts as you pause your movie and remove the earbud you’d been using to listen to it.
“How was the date?” Tim asks.
“You tell me, it seems like you saw just as much as I did,” Lucy responds.
“Sorry, Lucy,” you interject.
“It’s okay. I mean, if he was a serial killer or something, I’d be glad you’re here.”
“That’s what I said,” Tim defends.
“But he wasn’t.”
“Told you,” you tell Tim. “She can take care of herself. Besides, Alex is a sweetheart.”
“You’ve met him?!” Tim asks loudly.
You nod and take a bite of your snack before you explain, “On a call this afternoon. Nell attached me to it.”
“Oh, so I can’t call Nell, but you can?”
“I asked her to watch for an opportunity,” Lucy says.
Tim shakes his head and throws his hands up. “I give up. Lucy, do you want a ride home?”
“Your home or mine?”
“You’re not spending the night.”
You chuckle in the passenger seat at their bickering. Tim doesn’t look at you this time, too focused on the road as he pulls out.
“How was it?” you ask Lucy.
“It was really good. We’re going out again.”
“When?” Tim asks.
“Don’t answer that, Lucy,” you suggest. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Right,” Tim scoffs. “And she was worried about you picking sides.”
“You know, you could just say it,” Lucy tells Tim, leaning toward his seat.
“Say what?”
“I love you. Trust me, you tell me once and you’d feel so free. I love you. That’s all it takes, Dad.”
“The guy in your movie didn’t have to deal with this,” Tim mumbles.
“He actually did have a kid,” you say as he approaches a stop sign.
“Wait, what movie?” Lucy asks excitedly.
As you begin explaining the plot to Lucy, Tim shakes his head. You know he cares, and when you get home and kiss him, maybe he’ll reconsider simply admitting it.
Besties get Banged
Angel Dust x FemReader Smut
➽─❥Angel Dust x MaleReader Smut version
You didn’t think Angel liked you the way you did him, how could you? While sharing a profession, he was nothing like you. He was the star in every room he entered. After being booked on a shoot together, you find maybe Angel wasn’t so ignorant to your existence.
Warning/Promises: Angel x Reader do not fuck but they do get banged, Val is going to ruin shit but I ain’t writing that part, Foursome but no one cares, handjob, cum countdown 💦, masturbation, making out, porno, vaguely threatening ending from Val
minors dni (👁️👄👁️🔪)
When Angel Dust slipped into the dressing room of Val’s ‘sex dungeon’, you struggled to keep your smile down. You’d never actually worked together. The two of you had attended the same awards shows, frequented the same clubs, danced the same stages. But never graced the same screen. Every encounter left you more and more enthralled. Always the life of the party, but when the crowds would die down Angel would become so sweet, talking with an emotional intelligence many sinners seemed to have lacked or intentionally abandoned at death.
Angel threw himself at many people, sometimes jokingly, sometimes not. But you’d be lying to say it didn’t sting he’d never propositioned you.
“Mornin’,” he plopped into the make-up chair beside you, hand lazily combing through his bedhead.
Angel hoped you hadn’t seen him pause when he saw you. He didn’t get butterflies often, but you always managed to make his stomach flutter. He felt so silly, a kid with a crush.
You knew Val wasn’t going to let it be just the two of you. He enjoyed watching you both get fucked too much. ‘Besties get Banged’ was written on the clapperboard. Angel gave you a wink, “Ooh besties! Is this work or just another Friday night?” His elbow hit a soft spot in your ribs, making you laugh.
“Stop— st-stop that. Get on the bed.” Val used all four arms to separate you, “Bitch number 1 on the left side, Bitch number 2 on the right.” He sat in his chair, arm angrily motioning for the large demons to enter the set already.
It was a standard enough shoot, until you and Angel found yourselves both on your knees, eye to eye from across the pink heart shaped bed. One yellow and one black eye looking back at you, hazy with pleasure as he was fucked dumb by some piece of muscle with a dick attached.
He looked so beautiful when he felt good. You reached out your hand to him, then the other. Fingers laced together, you both moaned into the space between yourselves. Angel’s eyebrows rose up, tongue coming out. His face was so flushed, cheeks pink. You weren’t sure it was an invitation, but you pulled yourself to him and ran your tongue over his. The demon behind you followed your body, trying to maintain contact.
Angel’s eyes rolled closed, tongue pushing into your mouth. The kiss interrupted again and again as the repeated pounding into your holes pulled your lips apart, your entire bodies moving in rhythm.
“Hey!,” Val yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Angel smiled at you, “Whats the matter Val?” He strained forward, capturing your mouth again.
“Stop kissing! You’re ruining it!”
“You never kissed a bestie? Awww,” Angel kept his lips near yours. “Val’s never had a real good friend before.”
Val’s antennae bristled, “Pull em apart, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Killing my fucking hard on. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
Your bodies were slid away, fingertips still reaching out to each other. You were flipped onto your back, pacing brutal as if making up for lost time.
Angel watched you, mouth lonely. His cock leaking from just a kiss. Reaching down, he began to stroke himself while enjoying his own personal show. Your body bouncing with the thrusts, eyes watery. He arched his back, looking across to where your body connected with the other demon. You looked so wet, so inviting.
“Angel!” Val seethed.
Angel’s closed his eyes, imagining you around his cock and not his fingers. His eyes shot open when he felt hands on his face. His fear dissolved into relief as he saw you had scooted back towards him, pulling him down for an upside-down kiss. Breath hot, he moaned into your mouth.
“Uh Boss, should we stop em again? It’s kinda hot.” The shark demon behind Angel slowed.
Your fingers slipped through his hair, bringing him deeper into your kiss. There was nothing else in the room anymore but you and Angel. Tongue rolling over tongue, breathy moans exhaled and inhaled.
Val shook his head, “Let the little sluts kiss. If they wanna ruin my shoot so badly, be my guests.” His eyes aglow, Valentino exhaled his toxic smoke throughout the studio, sinister grin spreading across his face.
The demons continued as directed, you and Angel not having noticed the interruption you had caused. Angel’s mouth left yours, head resting on the mattress.
“Val’s going to kill us,” you tried to remember the name of the wolf demon pounding into you, knowing you had some sort of lines.
Angel’s teeth nipped your ear lobe, “He’s gonna do that anyway.”
You moaned, “Feels good when you do that.”
“Yeah?” The wolf asked. You wanted to kick him in the neck.
“Uuh, yeah. You… fuck me so good, Daniel.”
“Donny.” He corrected.
Angel got back on his elbows, “Literally no one cares, David.” Whispering now, “Roll over and come ‘ere.”
Douglas didn’t seem bothered, you using your feet to stop him and twisting around his cock to get back on your knees. The demons whose names neither of you cared to learn followed you again. Angel was pressed into you, two arms holding you against his body, one arm on your cheek, a fourth finding its way to your clit.
You gasped, Angel licking up your neck and chin as his hand expertly rubbed you. Regaining some bit of your brain, you reached down a hand to his cock. It was slapping against this stomach in time with the thrusts. Your hand only need to grip him, the other actor basically fucking him into your grasp.
Angel’s head craned down, sucking bruises into your collar bone, “I wanna fuck you so bad, it hurts.” Another whisper into your skin.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” your words faded in and out, volume jumping as your pussy took hit after hit. Angel’s hand electrifying every part of your body.
Angel pulled you as close as he could, bringing your hand from his cock to hold in his. Now him and his pre-cum were rubbing along your stomachs, pressed together tightly. “Wrong. So wro-uh.” Eyes rolling back, Angel’s words fell apart.
“You close?”
He nodded.
“Want me to count you down?”
A more frantic nod.
“Five”
You leaned in to kiss at his neck.
“Four”
A long drag of your tongue up to his ear.
“Three”
A kiss to his cheek.
“Two”
You bit at his lip, pulling it with you before letting it go.
“One”
Angel clenched his eyes, grip on you tightening as he came across your stomach, thick and hot. You heard the other actor moan, Angel’s ass tightening with his release.
You took the chance to kiss Angel again, lips soft and swollen from the long shoot. His cum dripped down your stomach and found its way to his hand, adding more lubrication to your wet pussy. Angel’s fingers eagerly used his seed to slip and slide over your clit.
The feeling pushed you into your orgasm, legs shaking as you tried to stay up. “For fuck’s sake,” Val could be heard shouting just past the studio lights.
Drawing him in for another kiss, less deeply now, lips sometimes on lips, and sometimes the chin and the cheek.
You stayed, holding each other, through the shoot. The other actors finishing their parts, cumming and making some puns about bosom buddies. When everyone else left the scene, and you two broke apart your hungry mouths to consider getting cleaned up and dressed, the air grew thick around you. Heads swimming now, a horny haze fell on set.
“Bravo, bitches. You ruined my shoot, only fair I get to ruin something now.” You both turned to see the lights gleaming off Val’s glasses. “Where should I start?”
༻Masterlist༺
My general tag list is called the Horny Little Deer Cult! To be tagged, you are more than welcome to ask to join
Potions
Pairing- Usopp x reader x Zoro
Summery- Based off this ask
Warnings- drinking, sex pollen (kinda ig??), sex while under the influence, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), penetration
.
Usopp explored the plethora of booths at the market he got Nami to bring the crew to this specific island for a specific booth. “Ah, here it is!” He spotted the place he had so eagerly sought out.
Although, it was strange he could have sworn the name of the booth he was searching for was Amil’s and not Amel’s but oh well!
Stepping up to the man who stood behind the booth. He greets Usopp. “Ah, good sir! How can I assist you on this fine day?”
“Oh, yes.” Usopp clears his throat, pulling his glasses down covering his eyes as he leans in closer. “You see, I may have heard you have procured a certain strengthening potion.” He tries to sound laid-back, almost tipping over once his arm doesn’t find support on the small booth.
“Oh….” the man's voice trails off as his eyes scanning across his almost empty cart before he sees a random bottle. “This!” He pulls it out eyes trailing over it, he’s been meaning to find someone to take this off his hands.
“And you’re sure this is it?” Usopp eyes the mixture that reminds him of a beer bottle or maybe wine. The red and pink sealant that protected the substance dripped down almost covering the peculiar drawing on the gut of the bottle. Depicting a creature with three heads, one of a goat, one of a human and one of a bull.
The bottle itself definitely didn’t scream potion but never judge a book by its cover y’know.
Salesman's eyes trails down for a sly second before answering, “Yes, of course friend. I would never lie.” Before Usopp could question him any further he quickly gives the price before shoving it into Usopp's hands.
He found the man's behavior odd but didn’t question it as going off to explore the island now that he’s got what he came for, or at least what he thinks.
A few hours later
Walking into the kitchen with Zoro your eyes land on the decorated beer bottle on the table. Usopp sat on the other side, clean glass in hand. He goes to pick it up but you swiftly swipe it up you turn the bottle to its back not caring to look at the label.
“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the cap off the bottle smelling it. A pungent smell hits your senses, nostrils flaring before you hand it off to Zoro, himself smelling it trying to suppress the surprisingly sharp smell.
Usopp debates on whether to tell then he sees you going to take a swig. “A Potion!” He yells reaching for the container. You stop right before the bottle touches your lips, pulling away your cock a brow at the man across the table.
“Potion?” Zoro questions.
“Okay so, a week or so ago I overheard someone talking about a potion so strong it gives you the strength of ten horses, ten horse man! Could you imagine what I could do with the strength of ten horses.” He rambles stopping once he sees the uninterested expressions of the two in front of them. “But it’s rare and could only be found here.” He finishes his rather short explanation you sit the random liquid down.
“And you how this is the exact potion? How?” You ask and Usopp just smiles sheepishly. “Well I mean if it’s not what’s the worst it could do?”
“Uh–I don’t know. Mutate us, shift our bodies. Change out Genders!!” You list out the tame possibilities but Usopp just shrugs as he pulls out two more cups for you and Zoro.
“I mean other than that, what could happen?” Usopp asks, taking the bottle in hand pouring double shots in each cup. The color of the drink was akin to blood and makes you judge their carefree attitude to the strange concoction.
“Zoro what do you think?” You turn to the silent man.
“I mean, I don’t need a strength potion but if it gets me drunk, sure.” Zoro says taking the cup Usopp hands him.
Huffing in annoyance you look down at the cup Usopp offers to you. Rolling your eyes you take it; “Fine, I’ll drink it. But not because both of you are doing it.” You grumble shooting the drink back in one gulp the sappy flavor overcoming your tastebuds.
You all wait for something, anything, to happen. But nothing, no bulging muscles appearing out of thin air, no ghastly mutation. Just a really, really strange taste.
“Well, then let's get this party started.” Usopp sounds disappointed as he pours another drink, this time normal bourbon.
You drink that one rather quickly, wanting to get the strange flavor of the other out of your mouth.
It only takes a few minutes for what you suspect is the ‘potion’ to kick in and it definitely makes you feel something. Your stomach felt queasy all the heat in your body going down.
You look at Usopp, who was already looking at you. You blink a few times, head feeling foggy, “Usopp..” You say stopping mid sentence for some peculiar reason. You want to finish, say ‘are you sure this is a strength potion’ but you can’t focus on anything but Usopp and his lips. When had his lips become so attractive?
“Y/N?” Usopps’ voice was dry making your thigh quiver for a second, Zoro definitely doesn’t miss it watching from the interaction from side taking another sip of bourbon.
You move to sit on your knees in the chair, head tilting to the side, eyes trailing over Usopp, low-lidded eyes, no jacket allowing you to see all of his muscles. With ypur gaurd down, no logical mind to stop think, you grab Usopp by his jaw pulling him into a soft kiss.
His lips felt exactly how you thought they would be, heavenly. The kiss slowly morphed from gentle to hungry. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you closer and guides you to his lap. You pushed deeper into the kiss teasing, testing to see how far he would go. He pulls away from the kiss, both of you gasping for air. His hands gripped your hips, both of you waiting for the other to attack.
You could feel how wet you were, surely your panties were already soaked; at this point you would take anything.
He flips you around sitting you sit in his chair now. His hand moves across the top of your shorts hand dipping inside. Moving your panties to the side slips two fingers teasing your slit before pushing past your folds.
He does a few experimental circles around your clit seeing what made you twitch and twist. “Oh..” you say heat grows through your body like a wildfire taking over a forest. Your legs spread, letting him move deeper, fingers teasing your tight entrance. He pushes inside, quickly opting for two digits he explores your body. Your bodies seemed to be hypersensitive as every touch felt like coals being thrown in a fire. Your hips moved in sync with Usopp's thrust, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
The way your walls pulse around his fingers, Usopp knows you're close.
“Be a good girl and cum,” He whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his slender fingers pumping in and out of you; thumb moving perfectly on your clit. Usopp looks up at Zoro who’s observed the entire situation but has yet to do anything. “If you cum you’ll get Zoros’ cock.” Your walls clench around him. “Oh, poor baby needs some cock.” Zoro mockingly teases, finally speaking once he sees the way your cunt responds at the mention of getting fucked.
And just like that you cum. Body shaking, the air in your throat catches as pure pleasure controls your mind, soul, and body.
Usopp pulls his fingers from you, looking at them they shine with arousal. On a sudden power trip Usopp stands up straight, smirking before shoving his fingers in Zoros’ mouth.
Taken back a bit he eyes Usopp but once your tangy flavor seeps into his mouth he doesn’t mind it, Zoro allows Usopp to have this little ego trip as he cleans you off of his digits.
You wish you could paint this moment, it was beautiful, they were beautiful. Usopp pulls away from Zoros’ warm mouth, fingers whispering against the green haired man’s bottom lip.
Zoro gets up from his seat, not once breaking eye contact with the other male. Usopp gulps once Zoro is at his full height, “Get over there.” Zoro instructs him to stand right next to you.
Allowing Zoro to lay you on the three chairs you once occupied, his lips connect to your neck leaving rough hickeys. Yelping when he hikes your leg up with a deathlike grip your foot hits the bottle knocking it to the ground, the rest of the elixr pouring out.
Zoros’ lips travel down your body, strong hands tearing your shirt down exposing your hardened peaks. He holds them his tongue exploring your chest, his hips moving slowly trying to suffice the need to be in your cunt. You can feel him harden beneath you.
Turning your head back to the spilt bottle your eyes center onto the illustration that covers the label.
You try to place where you’ve seen it before and then it clicks;
Asmodeus. Demon of lust.
Your face twists into a smile as you realize, it was never a strength potion.
You giggle as Zoro rips your bottoms and panties down, tip of his cock slipping and sliding on your soaking pussy. You can’t hold the pornographic cry that falls from your lips once he pushes in, bottoming out in one big thrust.
Zoro kisses you harshly once more if both of you were not under extreme influence you would have thought it gross how both of your saliva gathered as you made love to each others’ mouths.
He pulled away spit string pulling with him. He began to thrust, quickly becoming lost in your tight cavern.
As your body rocked you never lost eye contact with Usopp whose eyes were buglike and his bulging cock sat right in your face.
Moving your hands up you untie Usopps’ slacks letting them fall to the ground the only thing hiding his cock thin briefs. You palmed him biting your lip in anticipation and trying to keep in the moans Zoro seems so adamant to pull out.
He helps you pull his briefs down, his dick springing free. You thrust him in your hand, pre-cum leaking out. Using your thumb swiping over his crown using it as lubricant as you jack him off over your face.
You try to keep up the pace of your hand to Zoros’ thrust but your efforts were in vain making tears well in your eyes, the overwhelming need to please both of them consuming your mind. Opening your mouth you take him in, a raspy sigh leaves Usopp as you hollow your cheeks out, tongue swirling over his tip, egging his hips on to move.
Slowly he does his movements start slowly, his long cock quickly hitting the back of your throat but you take the rest of him.
Your air supply goes tight when he pushes on your throat feeling it wrap around his cock. He slides out letting you suck in as much air with your nostrils as possible before sliding back in. He tries to keep his thrust calm, collected. But it’s just so hard when you feel so good. He fucks your throat hard, almost as hard as Zoro torments your cunt.
Groans falling from the men and the muffled moans that could escape between Usopps’ wild thrust bounce throughout the room.
The coils in your tummy tighten with each thrust from either man. The lightheaded euphoria overtook you, possessing you. Your nerves shock as a volcano inside you erupted. The world went still, your lungs tightened as burning pleasure blasted its way through your body.
Zoro stifled a moan as your pussy spasms around him, he grabs onto Usopp's arm, shoving his face into your neck inhaling your pheromones and with one quick thrust both of them cum. Drinking down the salty liquid that feels your throat your cling to Zoro as he rides his high out.
The men pull out of you both helping to clean you up before all you're left with is silent.
Zoro grabs the bottle that didn’t fall off the table and pours two cups. One for him and one for you.
“Well, that just happened.” Usopp says sitting, shirtless, in his chair.
“Yeah, that did.” You say taking the shot with Zoro.
With You, Even When I'm Not
Requested Here by the amazing @newobsessionweekly!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader
Summary: When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.
Warnings: angst, car accident, torture (injuries to r), based on 2x11 but this isn't a rewrite (for once lol), crying, fluff and comfort
Word Count: 5.5k+ words
A/N: I didn't include a scene with Tim threatening someone like he does in 2x11 and I kinda regret it because it was hot, but I also really like how this turned out...
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead.”
You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”
Less than eight hours ago, you sat beside Tim in roll call. You force yourself to remember that rather than consider what Ferguson plans to do to you.
- 8 Hours Ago -
Your day starts like any other: you wake up, get ready, go to the station, and take your seat beside Tim for roll call. The sun is bright, the sky clear, and Los Angeles is event-free for once. So, it has the makings for a good day.
“What is up with you?” Tim asks quietly.
“What do you mean?” you counter.
“You’re all smiley and happy. Someone puked in my shop yesterday and you’re acting like this is the best job in the world.”
“It is!” You chuckle at his look before explaining, “It’s going to be a good day. Just let me enjoy this one for every hundred bad ones I’ve dealt with.”
“Sure.”
Wade enters, and you give him your full attention, though you never forget about Tim. He’s a constant in your life, and you wish you could have him by your side every moment, not just during roll call.
“Nolan, Harper is back so you can return to your TO,” Wade says.
“That’s why you’re so happy,” Tim muses. “You got rid of Nolan.”
You shake your head and smile before you stand. You’re patrolling in one of the nicest Los Angeles neighborhoods today, so you probably won’t see or hear Tim much today.
“Have a good one,” you tell him.
“Be careful,” he replies.
You exit the room, and Tim watches you go. Lucy walks to his side and stops, aware of what he’s looking at and longing for.
“Let’s go, boot, don’t just stand there,” Tim demands.
“Bradford,” Wade calls. “A word? Chen can stay.”
Tim nods and follows Lucy to the front of the room.
“Ferguson was released on parole this morning,” Wade says. “Sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know.”
“He had fifteen years left; how did this happen?” Tim asks.
“Who’s Ferguson?” Lucy inquires.
“Someone I arrested,” Tim answers. “He threatened to kill me when he got out.”
“Oh. Uh, should we-“
“That is up to Officer Bradford,” Wade interjects. “If you want to sit today out, I’ll understand.”
“No. I’m not letting him ruin my life, too. We can handle Ferguson if he’s stupid enough to show his face.”
“The parole board seems convinced he’s reformed, but we both know he’s a good liar and a better manipulator. Keep your eyes open, Tim, and don’t hesitate to call in anything you think is a threat.”
“Yes, sir. Let’s go, boot.”
Tim leads Lucy to the shop, and he's quieter than usual. Lucy hasn’t been a cop as long as him, but she knows what it’s like to have a criminal blame you for the consequences of their actions. She won’t push Tim, not about this, but she has questions about everything she heard.
“Pull up Roscoe Ferguson,” Tim says as he turns onto the road. “Get familiar with his face. If you see him, I want you to know it’s him.”
“You really think he’ll do something?” Lucy asks as she turns the dashboard computer toward her.
“I’m counting on it.”
“Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-9, are there any alerts in my area?” you ask into the radio.
“Negative, 7-Adam-9.”
You nod to yourself and place the radio back in the console. The morning has been quiet and slow. You know you shouldn’t complain; a sunny drive in the hills is rarely a bad thing, but you’re a cop, and you’re getting bored.
“7-Adam-9, switch to channel 4 for Sergeant Grey,” dispatch instructs.
You turn the channel dial and let Wade know you’re there. He doesn’t answer, and you slow at a stop sign as you bounce the radio against your thigh.
“You’re in the hills, right?” Wade asks suddenly.
He doesn't use your name or call number, only asks a rushed question. It concerns you, but you remain professional.
“Yes, sir,” you answer. “Do you need me to come back?”
“No, stay up there. Just wanted to double-check.”
“What’s going on?”
Wade goes silent again, and you repeat the question.
“Nothing, I hope. Just trying to keep everyone connected to Bradford out of the heart of LA today.”
“Why?”
“Ferguson was released.”
“He has 15 years left on his sentence!” you exclaim into your empty car.
“I know. I’m trying to get everything figured out and petition for it to be reversed, but for now, just keep working.”
“Yes, sir.”
You turn the channel back and set the radio down. Roscoe Ferguson hates Tim and would do anything to get to him. Tim knows you're here for him, so you focus on your assignment. The Hollywood hills are quiet this morning, but you know better than to let your guard down.
As you turn onto Tahoe Drive, you notice a black truck in your rearview. He gets close to the tail of your shop but slows suddenly and turns onto Tahoe Place. You roll your eyes; the people who live in the Hills drive like they own the hills. They probably do, but it doesn’t excuse unsafe vehicle operation.
You round the bend where Tahoe Drive turns into Lake Hollywood Drive, and the Hollywood Reservoir comes into view. When you glance up, you see the black truck speeding toward you again. You hit the lights and leave them on for a few seconds as a warning, but the driver doesn’t slow. If they pass you, you’ll stop them and issue a ticket, you decide.
There’s a point on Lake Hollywood Drive where there’s less than 200 feet of terrain between the road and the reservoir. It’s covered in sparse foliage, but it would be easy enough to get to the water or hide in the trees. You realize too late that the truck isn’t slowing down or moving to pass you as you near that point. It rams into you from behind, and you lurch forward before the seatbelt catches and snatches you backward. Steering is pointless as the shop slides into a small patch of dirt. The truck is still driving, pushing your car forward. The driver stops just before you collide with a tree, and you reach for the radio.
It's fallen from the console, and the seatbelt holds you uncomfortably tight to your seat. As you wrestle to free yourself and get the radio, you don’t see the man exit the truck or approach your window. He hits it with an illegal tool used for breaking into cars, and you turn your face away as glass showers over you.
“Hi,” he greets. “7-Adam-9, right?”
“And you’re Roscoe Ferguson,” you answer.
“Bradford, get back to the station,” Wade radios, “Now.”
“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he makes a U-turn.
“Ferguson stole a truck. We don’t know where he went after or what he’s planning to do.”
“We should find him,” Lucy says.
“And don’t say you should go look for him,” Wade adds. “You’re too close to this.”
“He’s not going to kill me, Grey,” Tim argues. “Let me help. I caught him once; I can do it again.”
“Get back to the station. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tim sighs as he continues driving toward the station. The last time he worried about Roscoe Ferguson, you were sitting beside him. Though you’ll never take the credit, Tim thinks you’re the main reason he finally got Ferguson in cuffs.
“What now?” Lucy asks.
“We find a way to help find Ferguson,” Tim replies.
“Get out,” Ferguson demands.
He pushes the gun closer to your face, and you raise your hands slowly. Your left shoulder aches from the impact of the seatbelt, and as you reach through the broken window to open your door, you feel the tiny scratches littering your face and neck sting. Ferguson pulls you away from the shop and pushes you toward the reservoir.
“What’s your plan here, Roscoe?” you ask.
He taps the gun against your back to make you keep walking. With your back to him, you slide your hand into your pocket and remove the laminated piece of paper you keep in it. It falls to the ground, and you hope it’s enough to help Tim find you and Roscoe.
“Kill me to get to Tim? Hurt him without touching him because you know he won’t let you get the chance?”
“Shut up!” Ferguson yells. “Walk!”
Taunting him may not be your brightest decision, but making him mad will make him careless. When you reach the water, he grabs your belt and pulls you backward. Your breath rushes out as your back hits the ground, but you smile through the pain.
“You will never beat him,” you say.
“Tim Bradford took everything from me. Let’s see how he likes the feeling,” Ferguson responds.
He raises the gun to your face and pushes the barrel against your forehead. You keep your eyes on him, unwilling to flinch in the face of death. He changes his mind, however, and brings the butt of the handle down against your temple instead, and everything goes dark as the water blows in the wind.
Tim and Lucy have been relegated to desk duty. With Ferguson on the run and numerous threats against Tim’s life, Wade decided it would be best for him to stay here. Wade watches them from his office and shakes his head when Lucy begins twirling her handcuffs around her finger. His phone rings and Wade steps away from the glass door to answer it.
“Sergeant Grey,” he answers.
He listens silently before lowering the receiver and stepping out into the station. Tim looks up, and his expression drops immediately.
“What happened?” Tim asks as he stands.
“They found the stolen truck. It was involved in an accident near the reservoir. He, uh… Ferguson ran a cop off the road, and they’re both missing.”
“Who?” Tim asks, urgency and panic lacing the syllable.
Before Wade can answer, dispatch reads your badge number in a missing officer alert, and Tim’s blood runs cold. He freezes, staring at Wade as he realizes what has happened and that it’s his fault. Tim never anticipated Ferguson going for the people Tim cares about – loves – and he should have.
“Let me go out there,” Tim demands lowly. “I can find her.”
“I shouldn’t,” Wade answers. He looks to Lucy and adds, “But I will. Don’t try to do this alone, Bradford. Take help where you can get it.”
“I don’t want the credit; I want her back,” Tim snaps.
“Then get to the reservoir and do what you do best, Tim.”
Lucy nods at Wade, an unspoken promise that she’ll do her best to help him and keep him from spiraling. They both know that it’s easier said than done.
“Tim,” you call out when you wake.
“Nope, just me,” Ferguson says.
He’s sitting across from you as he carves a piece of wood into a chipmunk. Your arms are tied tightly behind you, and one of your ankles is secured to a metal pole with your handcuffs. Whatever he’s planning to do to you will hurt you, but it will hurt Tim much worse.
“I hope you’re asking for a lot of ransom,” you mumble.
“You and I both know this isn’t about money. It’s about that little partner of yours and what he did to me.”
“Making you pay for your crimes? Yeah, he’s a terrible person.”
Ferguson moves forward quickly. The half-finished wood carving falls to the floor as he presses the knife under your jaw.
“These whittling knives are small, but I can cut an artery before you can call out to him again,” he threatens.
You swallow, causing the knife to bob in his hand. He presses harder and turns to the left before standing. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and you wonder what he plans to do to you before he kills you. If you didn’t have so much faith in Tim, you’d be tempted to anger Ferguson and trick him into killing you early. It’s a terrible thing to think, but at the end of the day, you’re a cop, and you know when your chances aren’t good enough. Right now, they are.
“When he gets here, he will put a bullet in you this time,” you tell Ferguson.
“You stopped him last time,” he answers.
He’s planning to use you as a human shield; let Tim be the one to finish you off in the darkness. Perhaps that’s why you’re underground. The only light you see is from a small lamp; when it goes off, you will be plunged into complete darkness.
“Stop talking,” Ferguson demands as he retrieves his chipmunk. “We don’t have much air in here.”
You try not to let your shock show, but as you look around and fail to see a single air vent, you worry that Tim won’t make it in time. Forcing yourself to take a steady breath, you close your eyes.
“No, no, no,” Ferguson chides. “No napping. We have to stay awake for the pre-game, and the final score.”
He tips your head back, and your eyes open instinctually. When he sees that, he tightens his grip on your jaw and circles you. Looking at him upside-down, you tug against your restraints. He raises a foot and places it on your bound hands before stepping down hard and fast. Your shoulders pull backward at a painful angle with no room that makes you yell in pain. Ferguson’s laugh drowns out your scream, and he keeps his hand on your jaw as he lays a rope over the back of your neck to hang over your shoulders.
“He’s going to kill you,” you say between pants when Ferguson releases your face.
He hinges at his hip, invading your personal space as he smiles and says, “You too.”
“Bradford, there’s blood,” an officer alerts.
Tim steps to your open shop door and sees a few small, oblong blood drops on your seat. Based on the shape, you were in motion when they fell, and it wasn’t enough blood to kill you.
“Probably from the glass,” he decides. “Let’s move toward the reservoir. We can’t tell footprints apart but watch where you’re stepping!”
“Tim!” Lucy yells from just past the tree line.
He jogs to her side and looks down. She found a small, laminated piece of paper, and Tim recognizes it immediately. Your self-proclaimed “perfect fortune” from one of your first dinners together as P2s rather than rookies. He picks it up and looks toward the water. He’s looking in the right place, you made sure to tell him that, but he feels like he’s missing something else.
“Please,” you whimper, even though you know he can’t hear you.
“How many more times do I have to tell you?” Ferguson asks. “He’s not here.”
The only thing on your mind is Tim because if you stop thinking about him you’ll only know the unbearable pain and the man inflicting it. Ferguson places his foot between your legs, pushing against the chair slowly. It tips back, and you close your eyes and imagine Tim catching you. It doesn’t stop the initial pain of your leg being held in one place by the handcuffs as the rest of your body moves back or the scream you release as you hit the floor, but it does give you a reason to keep fighting. Ferguson pulls you up nearly as fast as he tipped you over, and the rope digs in against the side of your neck.
“This is the best workout I’ve ever had,” he says.
He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and you notice how hot and thick the air seems. Ferguson admitted that the air supply was limited, so if you start wasting it, maybe he will leave.
“If you call him…” you begin slowly. “Let me hear Tim Bradford’s voice one more time, and I will lure him here for you.”
“Do you think I’m dumb?” Ferguson asks.
You nod and immediately regret it when he pulls the rope and forces your head down toward your chest.
“I’m not letting you take control. This is my plan, and it ends beautifully.”
“I can’t do this!” Tim yells.
He runs his hands over the back of his head and down his face as he squats by the reservoir. There are no other hints about where Ferguson took you, nothing to guide Tim toward saving you, only dirt and broken promises. He told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you; Tim whispered the promise in the dead of night when you were asleep during an overnight patrol, yet he’s holding himself to keeping it like it will kill him if he doesn’t. Because it will.
“Tim don’t give up yet,” Lucy encourages. She lowers beside him and lays a hand on his back. “We can do this, but we have to work together. The paper means something right? Could it be more than an indication she was here?”
Tim wipes under his eye, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks. He stops them quickly, but she pats his back to remind him he’s not fighting alone. You’re fighting, too, and Tim needs to remember that.
“Lucy, I lo-“ Tim stops suddenly, though Lucy is confident she knows where he was going. “I know what it means.”
He stands quickly, and Lucy follows him to the place where they found the fortune. The little strip of paper from a fortune cookie has been in your pocket since you read it, but not only for the encouraging message on the front.
“34831,” Tim says.
“Your badge number?” Lucy asks, tilting her head to the side. “What about it?”
“It was on the back of my fortune that night. Hers, though, didn’t have a number. So, we wrote one on it.”
“What’s the number?”
“2 25 12 9. I didn’t think she’d know what it meant.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s an alphabet cypher, but backward.”
“B, Y, L, I,” Tim rattles off. “If she had this, she may have left more clues at those points: 2, 25, 12, and 9.”
“This would have been about 2,” Lucy says, gesturing to the ground. “That’s what, 2 meters from the car?”
Tim furrows his brows at Lucy’s use of meters but nods anyway.
“We can’t walk 25 meters forward, we’d be in the water,” Lucy points out.
“Then we need to spread out in every direction we can go 25 meters… Unless I’m wrong.”
“Don’t question it.”
“No, she would’ve fought. He wouldn’t have been able to make her go anywhere if she wasn’t willing to. We should assume that she couldn’t leave a trail after this point.”
“Then we’re back where we started?”
“Exactly.”
“Tim, what does that even mean?”
“She’s still here. They both are.”
Tim turns and yells for someone to get satellite imaging of the area and the camera footage from your car. Your body cam and police uniform shirt were discarded by the water but the cameras could tell them what happened before and during the initial attack.
“We’ll find her, Tim,” Lucy promises again.
“Thank you,” Tim whispers.
Running footsteps echo over the top of the tin deathtrap you’re in. Someone yells, and Ferguson ducks his head as he moves out of your sight.
“Tim!” you yell.
Your voice cracks, and as you prepare to yell again, Ferguson pulls the rope around your neck. It digs into your skin and compresses your windpipe. Tears begin leaking from your eyes, and after the day you’ve had, you don’t care to stop them.
“Tim, please,” you whisper.
“Welcome to the final round,” Ferguson says into your ear.
He loosens the rope and pushes your chair forward. His foot pulls down against your hands again, pulling your shoulder muscles cruelly as they stretch to accommodate the impossible movement. You scream in agony as Ferguson pushes you past the point he stopped at previously.
“Did you stop to ask yourself what he’s thinking? Wouldn’t he have found you sooner if he cared? I’ve been out long enough that he knew, yet he let you out by yourself,” Ferguson taunts.
“You won’t win,” you say between ragged breaths.
Ferguson pulls your head to the side to hold the whittling knife against your windpipe, and the cut he made earlier pulls open. Your white shirt is stained with blood and tears, and even as your blinks slow and breathing begins to feel impossible, you trust Tim.
“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead,” Ferguson says.
You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”
Throwing your head backward, you ignore the sting of his knife sliding across the tender skin of your neck. Your skull hits Ferguson’s nose, and he staggers backward with a hand holding his face. Suddenly, you can’t pull a full breath into your lungs. Time has run out, and Tim isn’t here yet. You hold your breath as Ferguson stumbles behind you. He drops, and you see his hand and face are covered in blood. His chest rises and falls slowly, but you’re safe until the rest of the oxygen is used up.
“Tim,” you whisper toward the metal sheet above you.
“Wait!” Lucy calls. “The ground is hollow here.”
Tim returns to Lucy’s side and hears his footsteps echo. It sounds like there’s a metal sheeting under the dirt beneath his boots. He raises a hand to call a few officers over before someone screams. It’s muffled by the metal and earth, but it’s a clear sign of pain. Better than that, it means someone is still alive.
“Find a way in,” Tim demands quietly.
As he searches the area around the hollow spot, he wishes to hear your voice again. Not another scream, but an acknowledgement that you survived whatever caused you such agony.
"Bradford!” Janssen calls.
He waves Tim over and points to a small opening. Together, they lift the heavy steel cover away from the round hole. Another barrier of cloth and metal sheets blocks the entrance, and as Tim digs through, he wonders how much air is getting through, if any. The moment he can see inside the fortified bunker, he pulls his weapon and drops silently into the metal housing.
What was likely meant to be a storm shelter has been converted into a survivalist’s nightmare. A small corridor leads to a wider opening, and a dim light is the only sign that anyone is inside. Tim raises his guns and stays ready to shoot as he nears the opening.
“Tim,” you whisper.
Tim hears your voice and doesn’t hesitate to step into the open room and swing his gun as he clears the small, square area. Ferguson lies unconscious in the corner, and Tim can only see your back, the restraints keeping you in place, and the rope loosely wrapped around your neck and shoulders.
Your shoulders shake as you exhale slowly. When you notice that you can breathe again, you take a deep breath before letting your head fall forward.
“Tim,” you repeat, trying not to think of anything else.
Tim says your name as he holsters his gun. You sit up straight and try to turn your head to the side but are stopped by the pull of the rope and the pain in your shoulders. You hiss in pain before returning to your previous position.
“You can’t trick me, Roscoe,” you mumble.
Tim steps toward Ferguson and handcuffs him. He repeats your name as he moves into your line of sight. His hands are raised to his shoulders, though his expression is pure concern. When he sees the blood, sweat, and dirt covering you and your clothes, he has to fight not to rush to your side.
“Tim,” you say again. Your voice is louder than before but still has an untrusting quality. “Tim.”
When you start crying and lean toward Tim, he kneels before you. He reaches down carefully to use his key and remove the handcuff from your ankle. Your head rests on his shoulder as he moves, and when he sees the damage done to your ankle, the swelling, deep bruising, and handcuff-induced gash, he looks back at Ferguson.
Tim sits up slowly and raises a hand toward your face. He pushes your hair back softly and waits until your eyes meet to speak.
“I need to go get backup,” he says.
“No, no! Please don’t leave me, Tim,” you plead through your slowing tears.
You lean forward and wince when your shoulder meets its new range of motion.
“I need to get Ferguson out of here,” Tim explains. “There’s a lot of people above us waiting for me to signal.”
“Tim, please.”
“Can I yell?”
You swallow as Tim moves closer to you. He stops an inch away from you, with your knees almost touching his ribs.
“I’m not going to yell unless you say I can,” he adds.
Tim waits for your nod, then leans away from you slightly to yell for Janssen and Lucy to come in.
“Help me,” you whisper when Tim’s eyes return to you.
He sits back on his heels as he unloops the rope from around you. It’s heavy, and he sees your shoulders drop once it’s away from you. They drop unevenly, though, and he knows you need more help than he can give you.
“I’m staying with you,” Tim promises, “but I have to untie your hands.”
You shake your head quickly, and Tim moves his hands to the sides of your thighs as he agrees not to leave. He asks Lucy to free your hands and keeps his hands on you as Lucy cuts the restraints.
“Thank you,” you say.
Tim doesn’t answer before you pull your arms forward. With them free, you don’t hesitate to raise them and wrap them around his shoulders. It hurts, and you sob as you fall forward and cling to Tim. He welcomes your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, but he doesn’t touch you, too mindful of how injured you are and where those unseen injuries are.
“I knew you’d come,” you say through your tears.
Tim looks over your shoulder as Janssen and a few other officers carry Ferguson to the opening. He should call an EMT to meet you here, but he can’t let you go yet. His grip tightens around your waist without thinking. When your only reaction is relaxing against him, Tim holds you as tightly as he needs to. Your tears are drying, and you turn your face toward Tim’s neck to speak.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave more clues,” you begin. “But I knew you didn’t need them.”
“The paper was smart,” Tim replies. “And I will always find you.”
“He wanted to lure you down here and trick you into killing me. Every time I called out for you he reminded me that we would both die.”
Tim exhales deeply, unsure how to tell you he knows you and he’d never make that mistake. He sits back, twisting you so that he’s holding you against his chest rather than letting you support your own weight.
“It hurts,” you say softly.
“Can you get out of here? Go up the ladder?” he asks.
“There’s a ladder?”
Tim’s brows furrow at your question. How did Ferguson get you down here if you weren’t conscious when you came in? He shakes his head; the detectives (and Tim) will look into the details of your abduction later. For now, your safety is the priority.
“Can you climb out?” Tim asks.
“Not without help,” you answer. “I don’t think I can walk.”
Tim looks at your ankle again, and his eyes catch on the fresh blood pooling against your collarbone. He leans closer to you to find the source. When he sees the cut across the front of your neck, he knows you need help sooner rather than later.
“Hold on,” he instructs you.
“I- I can’t move my shoulder.”
Tim lays you against the metal floor and looks at your left shoulder. It’s out of its socket, but Tim can’t risk pushing it back in without knowing if your muscles or ligaments are still intact.
“Please just get me out of here.”
Tim nods and turns around so your hips are beside his shoulders. He leans down and pulls your legs over his shoulder rather than your arms. With one hand pressing your shoulder to your side, Tim stands and pulls you up in a modified fireman’s carry. You stifle the yell that tries to escape, and Tim’s heart breaks when he hears it. He spent so much time fighting, desperate to find you, that he didn’t consider how different things would be when he did.
With the help of Janssen, Nolan, and Lucy, Tim gets you back above ground. He collapses to the ground but makes sure you’re set down with care. You reach out for him immediately, and Tim pulls your chest to his again. The paramedics are close, but until they arrive, Tim will hold you like he never has.
“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispers.
“You found me,” you reply. “You found me.”
Your right hand squeezes Tim’s shirt in your hand as you hold onto him. You didn’t doubt him for a second. Being in his arms gives you the safety and comfort you need to fall apart because you know he’ll hold you together.
“I know what it means,” you say. “Or I think I do. B-Y-L-I; it’s backwards, right?”
Tim nods against you, and you smile through your tears. The paramedics arrive, and you’re carefully removed from Tim’s grasp, though his hand stays in yours. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to let go, but Tim has already made a new promise, and he won’t leave your side until he’s forced to.
“Where’s Kojo?” you ask as Tim leads you into his house.
“He’s staying with Lucy tonight. He gets excited when he sees you and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Tim answers.
He guides you to the couch and sits beside you after placing your things in his guest bedroom. Tim refused to let you return to your apartment alone after being discharged from the hospital, and you didn’t need much convincing to stay with him while you heal.
You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder, careful not to jostle your shoulder in its sling. He moves his arm to welcome you closer and tilts his head to rest beside yours.
“It’s I love you backward, right?”
Tim looks down at your hand, surprised to see your fortune in it. He takes it from you and flips it to see his handwriting. He nods and sits up straight. When you turn toward Tim, he wipes under your eyes as if he can still see the tears you cried when he saved you. Your skin is littered with scars and reminders of what Ferguson did to you, but Tim still seems to only see you underneath all of it.
“It’s I love you, Bradford,” he answers. “Whether you wanted that to mean ‘from Bradford’ or something else.”
“I begged for you to save me while I was down there with him.”
“I’m-“
“Don’t apologize. I just- I need you to know I trust you that much because I know you love me. I’ve known for a long time. But I also knew that even if you didn’t find me in time, I would die loving you. And life was worth living because you were in it.”
Tim’s hands rise out of his lap before freezing. He looks down at your neck and back to your eyes before smiling. His eyes look misty, but you know yours are, too, so you decide not to tease him about it this one time.
“I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands to kiss you,” he mumbles.
You hold his shoulder as you lean in and kiss him. His hands raise to your waist without thought, and other than the soreness of using your obliques to search for Tim while tied in place, it’s a painless touch. Tim moves slowly and intentionally as he kisses you, reminding you of everything he said and did, even what you weren’t present for.
“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you say against his lips.
“I love you. I will always love you, and I will never lose you again.”
Tim slides the fortune into your pocket as he kisses you again, and every pain and fear you faced disappears because you know Tim will always find you and make you whole.
Arrest Me, But It's Not So Sexy
Part 2 of Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy (🏷 @newobsessionweekly)
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader
Summary: While you're undercover, Metro raids the drug manufacturing facility you're in. Tim tries to arrest you again, but you have a job to finish.
Warnings: discussion/depiction of drug trafficking, typical show warnings, fluff and banter
Word Count: 1.6k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
Put me in the back of your car and we'll start a verbal flirtation. I'm doing tax fraud and arson, now take me down to your station.
“Defying orders is the best thing I’ve ever done,” you muse as your captain reviews your current case.
“You’re just lucky Bradford didn’t actually report that,” she points out. “The body cam footage and arrest got to do all the talking.”
“And you saw it and just knew you had to have me, right?”
She nods sarcastically, then pushes an envelope toward you. “This is your cover. Nysse Bret.”
“And I fit some kind of description?”
“There’s word going around about a new dealer, better product, better prices… easy on the eyes. It’s got the target dealers and producers shaken up, just how we like them.”
You nod as you look through the envelope. It’s your first time going undercover alone, but you know you can do it.
“So, you want me to shake them up a little more, overstep on their turf, down sell their product, get them out in the open?” you clarify.
“Preferably. And given your track record of disobeying orders to do the right thing, going in solo seems like the logical next step for you.”
“The product you’re giving me?” you ask.
“It’s real,” she answers. “Diluted and nearly unusable, but legitimate. If it’s tested, it’ll come back as weak but real.”
“Got it. Don’t use it. And if I need backup?”
“Never more than five minutes out. We’ll try to grab buyers as we go, but that’s not the priority.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Oh, and keep up this sassy, unbreakable thing. That’s what these guys will expect from Nysse Bret. That and not taking any crap.”
“You’re saying I can flash my gun if they think sassiness is an invitation.”
“Was that a question?”
You smile and slide your sunglasses onto your nose as you answer, “Nope.”
“Sergeant Bradford has new intel on Savva Pavlov, one of Los Angeles’s biggest drug manufacturers. Heroine, coke, if someone can do it, Pavlov can make it. We take him out, we take the majority of the drugs out of LA,” Captain Pine reports.
“Until the next guy moves in,” someone points out.
“Then we find him too,” Tim answers. “Pavlov is big, so we gain time, at least, if we take him out.”
“Take it, Bradford,” Pine encourages.
“Yes, ma’am. We have good intel, so we’re moving in on this location.” He pauses and points to a location on the screen. “There will be people inside, drugs inside. We go in protected, get everyone we can, and make sure that Pavlov doesn’t slip through the cracks. We’ll have teams of three stationed on every side of the building and we’ll enter from the north and south sides.”
“How can you know if Pavlov is there?” an officer asks.
“We don’t. If we get lucky, we arrest him. If not, we break one of his guys to find out where he is. This drug war needs to end, so we can’t wait around for Pavlov to get back from a smoke break.”
“Any questions?” Pine asks. “Preferably ones that aren’t stupid?”
“No, ma’am,” the team answers together.
“Then get ready, we roll in twenty.”
“So, you’re Nysse,” a man drawls, looking you up and down but never glancing above your neck.
“Depends,” you answer. “Would you make the woman taking your bosses’ customers wait?”
“They’re not his customers, they’re ours!”
“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize through chuckles. “I wasn’t aware this was a Starscream undermining Megatron situation.”
“What?”
You level your gaze, drop your smile, and remove your sunglasses to look down at the shorter man. “I said, you’re trying to act bigger and bolder than you are.”
“I’ll show you bigger and bolder,” he growls.
You lift the left side of your shirt to show the Colt 45 against your hip. “I’d like to see you try.”
The man licks his lips as he steps back. “Mr. Pavlov will be here soon. He’s finishing a meeting.”
“Perfect,” you exclaim cheerfully, dropping your shirt and sliding your sunglasses onto your head. “Hey, what’s it like working for him? Get good vacation time?”
“Perhaps you’d like to see his process while you wait,” he suggests, leading you through a swinging door.
“Oh, I’d love to.”
“This is where the magic happens,” he says, opening his arms toward the warehouse of men and women working in gas masks and hazmat suits.
“What’s back there?” you ask, pointing to a blocked-off area at the back.
“Pavlov’s office. He’ll take you back there when he arrives.” He smiles and adds, “Women like you always leave happy.”
You roll your eyes at his comment. Before you can reply sarcastically, a flashbang is thrown through one of the few ventilation windows. You see it in time to drop your head and cover your ears, but you’re still disoriented for a moment.
“LAPD Metro!” someone yells. “Drop to your knees, hands on your head! Now!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you exclaim.
“Follow me,” the man beside you urges, blinking wildly to regain his vision. “There’s a-“
“Cop behind you,” you point out, tilting your head to the side. “He’s pretty cute, actually.”
“LAPD, on the ground. Now,” Tim says slowly. “That means you, sir.”
The man is still facing you, his back to Tim. You can tell he plans to run, so you lean against the rail beside you and cross your arms.
“What’s in it for me?” you ask.
“What?” Tim asks, holding his gun against his shoulder.
“If I get on the ground and ruin my outfit, what’s in it for me?”
Tim begins to say your name, but you shake your head once.
“Nysse Bart,” you introduce. “Maybe you’ve heard of me. But your little war on drugs is a war against me. So, make it worth my time and maybe I tell you what I know.”
“What about me?” the man before you asks.
“Sure, fine. Help us out, and we help you out, handsome,” you tell Tim. “Or we could just leave, find a more romantic spot.”
“You’re under arrest,” Tim says, dropping his gun to handcuff your tour guide.
“Cuffed while Pavlov enjoys the beauties of the port,” he mumbles.
So that’s where he is, you think. Picking up a shipment – or ladies – at the port.
“Bradford is it?” you ask as Tim moves toward you. “I really like how this shirt fits, so could you cuff me with my hands in front? As a sign of good faith, I’ll apologize for hitting on you.”
Tim shakes his head and pulls your hands behind your back. He places the cuffs in your hands rather than around your wrists. You huff and pout at him, then notice your phone, Nysse’s phone, is buzzing.
Another Metro officer takes Pavlov’s right-hand man, leaving you with Tim. You have to get to Pavlov, and after Metro raided the facility while you were inside, you have to go forward on your own.
“Sorry,” you say as you close one of the cuffs around Tim’s wrist.
He pulls his arm back when he feels your hand on him, but you snap the other side closed around the safety rail behind him.
“Take it off,” Tim demands.
“Sorry, sir,” you taunt as you walk backward, placing your sunglasses back on your nose. “That wasn’t quite sexy enough.”
“Get back here!”
“Oh, he looks like he wants to chase me,” you say, fanning yourself dramatically. “Navy blue booty, go ahead and lock me up.”
You wiggle your fingers to wave before you turn and walk through a side exit to catch Pavlov before he leaves the port with imported drugs. When you call your captain for backup, you tell her that Metro raided the facility, not knowing you were there. She grumbles something under her breath and promises to look into it and keep it from happening again. You remember the shock on Tim’s face when you cuffed him and realize it wasn’t so bad.
“And here I was, thinking that you’d be in the back of someone’s car admitting to tax fraud and arson,” you tease as you enter the roll call room.
“You caught Savva Pavlov,” Tim says. “Nice work.”
“If you want me to apologize for handcuffing you in a drug warehouse, I know this really nice place where we could have dinner, and I could kiss you to prove I mean it.”
Tim huffs a laugh, his smile appearing for several seconds. Your smile grows at the knowledge that Tim enjoys your back and forth as much as you do.
“I’m sorry,” Tim says. “We should have done our due diligence before we went in. I risked your safety during the raid, and there’s no excuse for that.”
You shrug and assure, “It worked out. Plus, you looked so good that it was a great break from the greasy little guy I’d been stuck with.”
“Yeah, he seemed to think I interrupted something.”
“A UC operation.”
Tim nods and asks, “Are you staying with the UCs?”
“I like it. Maybe not full time, but, yes, it’s something I can see myself doing again.”
“You’re a great cop, just… be careful.”
You lay your hand on Tim’s arm and promise, “I will. Knowing you’re in Metro and will come when I call helps.”
“You don’t need anyone telling you how to do your job, I know that, but I just want to make sure you’re safe. Especially after what happened today.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, gently squeezing Tim’s arm. As you step back, you ask, “Why didn’t you actually cuff me?”
“Nysse Bart? You said the name and I realized we messed up. Not to mention that, for once, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Didn’t you just say I could do no wrong?”
“No, I said-“
“So, should we go to dinner, or do you want me to go buy some illegal contraband so you can arrest me again?” you tease.
Your smile drops when Tim says, “Dinner. Meet me outside in ten.”
He turns and is almost to the door when you ask, “Wait, seriously?”
-
roseannekunpmook liked this · 4 days ago -
sunrisenbatuu liked this · 4 days ago -
sanfranssolomita liked this · 1 week ago -
cocolovesyou247 liked this · 1 week ago -
wasntforthenight-blog liked this · 1 week ago -
makingmyway-downtown liked this · 1 week ago -
rebelatbay liked this · 1 week ago -
hoseokprides liked this · 2 weeks ago -
novamariposa liked this · 2 weeks ago -
doyouevenburn3 liked this · 2 weeks ago -
malu940 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
royalestrellas liked this · 3 weeks ago -
s2hc liked this · 3 weeks ago -
6-paris-6 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
dittoswrld liked this · 3 weeks ago -
futuristicherobailifflamp liked this · 3 weeks ago -
redr4bbittt liked this · 3 weeks ago -
writingaftermidnight liked this · 1 month ago -
wordnerd5000 liked this · 1 month ago
-
lonelynoah liked this · 1 month ago -
cherrybullet liked this · 1 month ago -
hyacintheros liked this · 1 month ago -
arieltwvdtohamflash liked this · 1 month ago -
pyraomen liked this · 1 month ago -
ashthetrash05 liked this · 1 month ago
-
woman-of-whoredom liked this · 1 month ago -
lorenaloveslewis liked this · 1 month ago -
artistelily liked this · 1 month ago -
lkh-zaya liked this · 1 month ago
-
darkfairymoon liked this · 1 month ago -
axeofwars liked this · 1 month ago -
koshi-sama liked this · 1 month ago -
havlindzk liked this · 1 month ago -
borednblk liked this · 1 month ago -
jasonloveheart liked this · 1 month ago -
cheriebondy liked this · 1 month ago -
onlyangel252 liked this · 1 month ago -
iminlovewithfictionmen liked this · 1 month ago -
sturnsvalley liked this · 1 month ago -
sqrlgrl22 liked this · 1 month ago -
nommingonfood liked this · 1 month ago -
lunamomo liked this · 1 month ago -
wetsockwizard reblogged this · 1 month ago -
soupregrets liked this · 1 month ago -
luluevergreen liked this · 1 month ago
-
hadyaj014 liked this · 1 month ago -
doodlebob-mp3 liked this · 1 month ago -
nyrasfangirl liked this · 1 month ago
