Hello I Have An Idea For Tim X Rookie Reader.

Kevin Ball x daughter reader ?

An: YESYESYESYES btw this is not a biological daughter so you can be yourself 💖💖😍😍💋💖😍🤓💖🤧 hope you enjoy my lovers 🤍

The Balls

Kevin ball x daughter! reader (THIS IS PLATONIC WE DONT DO THAT INCEST SHIT HERE but reader is female with she/her pronouns 🤭)

warnings: just cursing and suggestive cause its kev and reader is in a secret relationship with lip (just wanted to add that in) and that’s it hope you enjoy my lovers 🤍 miscellaneous masterlist

Summary: Cute moments with Kev and his daughter

posted: June 18,2023

first time you snuck out for a party:

You were walking downstairs to see your dad and your stepmom V dancing and making out in the kitchen. You make fake gagging noises. They turn around to see you.

“Blah! You guys are disgusting.” You say while laughing and getting something to eat out of the fridge.

“Ohhh but Y/N you are going experience this ‘disgustingness’ sooner or later.” Your dad said while going next to you to steal your bread. “Hey give me my bread back!” V laughs while seeing this cute little moment between you two. While you guys are chasing each other your phone buzzed.

V heard this. “Ooo who’s texting us?” She said with a smile. You check your phone. “Oh it’s just my friend Maddie-.”

“Ughh is that the weird one with all the piercings?” Kev asked while being disgusted.

“No that’s Mandy babe.” V answered for you.

“Hey back to my text. Anyway it’s just her asking to go to a party together but don’t worry I’m not going.”

“Hey what! Why aren’t you going?” Kev asked. You just shrugged. “I don’t like parties. I sneak out every time you guys have one in the bar.”

“With who?”

“Li- Liza…” It was Lip but they don’t have to know that. They both narrowed their eyes at you but didn’t say anything. “I’m going to the Gallaghers for a little bit.” They both nodded and you walked to your neighbors.

_____

You were in Lip’s room just talking and giggling with each other. “You know if my parents ask you anything about me sneaking out of the bar that one night, I snuck out with Liza ok?” He just nodded with a confused look on his face. “Do you wanna go to a party later tonight?” You nodded and realized that you already told your parents that you weren’t going.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing it’s just I told them that I wasn’t going.”

“Just sneak out.”

_____

As you were sneaking in after the party, you see your dad under a light.

“I thought you weren’t going to that party Y/N?”

fuck

“Ok before you get mad Liza convinced me and-.” You cut yourself off when your dad held up his hand. “I’m so proud of my little girl!” He got up and squeezed you in a hug. You are so confused. “You’re not mad?”

“No! Wait did you have sex of any kind?”

“No dad!”

“Then I’m not mad!”

when they find out you have a boyfriend:

You guys were sitting in the living room watching tv. And you get a text. You check to see who it is and it’s Lip saying and showing some dirty stuff. You giggle and put your phone face down. V saw this and nudged Kev.

“Why are smiling at your phone Y/N? Who’s texting us?” V asked with a smirk on her face.

“Nothing just Liza sent something funny.”

“Well can we see?” Kev asked.

“No it’s an inside joke.” You said while giggling.

They made a face at each other. You can hear them whispering and your dad gets up to the kitchen. “Y/N can you help me in the kitchen?! I need help!”

As you were getting up V got your phone, put in your password and saw ‘L ❤️’

“This picture definitely is not from a girl.” She whispered to herself.

You turn around since it was way too quiet and you see V on your phone. “Hey!” You run over and snatch your phone. “You have a boyfriend!”

“Oh my god my babygirl has a boyfriend!” Kev said while cheering.

Then you got bombarded with questions.

“Do we know him?”

“No he’s from the north side.”

Then the questions got worse.

“Oh my god you have a rich boyfriend!”

“Does he buy you stuff?”

Why did he have to send that?

when they find out the boyfriend is Lip:

Since your parents were out at the bar. You guys were in your room, making out and smiling at each other. “So they know you have a boyfriend now. What did you tell them?”

“Well I said that he’s from north side and my dad calls you you my rich hot daddy boyfriend.” He let out a little laugh. “And he’s right except for the rich part.” You laugh at the face he makes.

“Now let’s stop talking and keep making out with each other.” You lean in and he smiles into the kiss.

“What the fuck.”

You guys jumped off each other.

“Lip is the rich hot daddy boyfriend?!” Your dad yelled. He ran out to tell V.

“V come in Y/N’s room!”

She ran in and gasped. “Lip?!”

This is the worst.

An: HEYEYEYEYEYE guys ik y’all probably are like ‘this bitch said they were gonna be posting then haven’t posted’ SO IM SORRY im rewriting shocked and scared bc it was fucking terrible but until i post again my lovers 🤍 *hint: it’s a surprise* (i have no idea)

Little Star

18+

A high school reunion, a sexually frustrated lawyer, and a secret pornstar. This should be fun.

My submission to Aphrodite’s Manor Challenge <3 (and my first ever challenge submission 🥺)

@geminixevans-stan @fineanddandy @jamalflanagan @cocobutterqwueen @syntheticavenger @sunshinexsin @boxofbonesfic

Content Warning: Andy Barber x Pornstar!Reader, mature themes, flirting, sexual language, cheating, smut (dom!andy x sub!reader, multiple orgasms, public sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, spanking, facial)

“I cannot believe you made me come back to this place,” You grumble, running your finger around the rim of your martini glass. “Nothing but bad memories.”

“Oh, come on,” Yanic coos, squeezing your shoulder as he leans in closer. “High school wasn’t that bad.”

“Maybe not for you,” You say with a glare. “You were in with the popular kids. You were practically a jock!”

“Being kept on the bench every single game hardly made me a jock,” He chuckles. “You had some fun here, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but smirk. “I guess senior prom was pretty fun.”

“Didn’t you fuck Andy Barber under the bleachers that night?” He asks with wide eyes. “Now, that was unexpected.”

Keep reading

Shoulder to Cry On

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (w/ 3 y.o. daughter)

Summary: When your daughter Mia is taken hostage, Tim Bradford holds you together and offers a strong shoulder to cry on.

Warnings: child abduction, discussion of past criminal activity, r has a daughter from a previous relationship, angst to fluff

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Your phone rings, and you reluctantly pull your hand from Tim’s to check it. The caller ID displays ‘Unknown,’ and you send the person to voicemail.

“Everything okay?” Tim inquires. “Was that the babysitter?”

“No, everything’s fine. Where were we?”

“We were talking about your dream date.”

“I don’t remember that,” you reply with a smile. “But I think I might already be on it.”

Your phone rings again, and Tim gestures for you to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Four… hundred… thousand,” the distorted voice says slowly.

“I think you have the wrong number,” you reply.

The voice says your name, then asks, “Mother of Mia? I’ll take that sharp inhale as a yes. The price is 400 grand.”

“Price for what?”

Tim watches you with pinched brows, and you avoid meeting his eyes.

“Say hi,” the voice demands.

“Mommy,” your daughter Mia cries.

“400 grand by tomorrow night.”

Realizing that this unknown person has your daughter, you raise your wide eyes to meet Tim’s.

“What?” he asks.

“Ooh, is that the cop? Put him on,” the man on the other end of the phone demands.

You pass the phone to Tim without a word, then grip the napkin in your lap tightly. Tim doesn’t speak, but his jaw tightens with each passing second. He ends the call and then stands.

“Tim,” you whisper.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he promises, offering his hand. “Let’s go.”

You allow Tim to lead you out of the restaurant. Once outside, your chest grows heavy as an uncomfortable pressure builds behind your eyes.

“Tim, I can’t breathe,” you tell him, gripping his hand as you panic.

He turns toward you, releases your hand, and holds your eye contact. “Listen, hey, eyes on me.” When your eyes meet his, he lifts your hand to his chest and presses your palm over his heart. “Breathe with me. In… and out. Good, again. In… out through your mouth. I have no idea what you are feeling right now, but I need you to trust me. I called it in, and I’m going to the station now. We’re going to get Mia back.”

You nod quickly, keeping your hand against Tim’s steady heart as he speaks. “What am I supposed to do?” you whisper.

“Stay strong for Mia. Can you think of anyone who would do this?”

“No. I don’t… no.”

“Okay, well I know people who can find that out. Do you want to go home or come with me to the station?”

You grip Tim’s shirt as you plead, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Tim pulls you against him and promises, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to bring Mia home.”

“Tim, what do you know about the father?” Angela asks. Tim doesn’t acknowledge her, staring out into the bullpen at you, where Luna Grey is consoling you. “Tim?”

“Hmm?” he hums without turning.

“Mia’s dad,” Angela says. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He hasn’t been in the picture, ever.”

“She hasn’t told you anything?” Nyla inquires. “No name, no complaints, just that he’s gone?”

“It’s not something I’m overly interested in, Harper.”

“You stand from your seat and rush toward Tim. He extends his arms toward you, but you press your ringing phone into his hand.

“He’s calling again,” he tells Angela.

“Answer it,” she tells you. “We’ll try to trace it.”

“Hello?” you greet.

“I’m not seeing any money,” the voice chides.

You hear Mia crying in the background and bite your lip harshly. “Where is my daughter?” you ask.

“She’s fine. Won’t stop crying, but she needs you to get me my money, understand?”

Angela shakes her head and moves her finger in a circle so you’ll keep talking.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” you explain. “Why me?”

“Because he stole it.”

You glance at Tim as you ask, “He who?”

“Mia’s father! I lost half a million because of him. I knocked a hundred grand off but if I don’t see my investment returned, I’ll make a new one.”

“I can’t get that kind of money,” you say through your teeth. “What else can I do?”

“Find a way. You have twenty hours, so find it quickly.”

The line clicks before you drop your hand away from your face. A tear tracks over your cheek, and you don’t do anything to stop it.

“No location on the trace, but I have the internet number’s information,” Angela explains. “Tech might be able to do something with it.”

“Excuse me,” you mumble.

Tim watches you walk into the restroom. He rubs his hand across his face before Lucy pushes him toward you.

“Go,” Angela encourages him. “We’ll find Mia’s dad and go from there. She needs you, Timothy.”

Tim knocks on the bathroom door as he opens it. He says your name as he steps in, but he’s only met with muted crying and sniffles.

“I can’t do this,” you whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, stopping outside your stall. “I can’t take it away, but I’ll do everything I can to get her back.”

“It was… I know it sounds bad, but I don’t know anything. He was working with someone or something, and they lost the money, and then- then he lost everything else. I don’t even know what the money was for or where he went after the fallout. He may not have realized that what they were doing was wrong.”

“It’s not your job to know all of this,” Tim reminds you. “He did something wrong, and he lost the best people I’ve ever met.”

You sniff before you begin crying again, and Tim nudges the door open. He pulls you from your slouched position against the partial wall and into his arms. Running his hand over your hair, Tim grounds you and reminds you that you’re not alone, you’re cared about and loved.

“Wait,” you say against his chest. “Did he say half a million?”

“Yeah, but he dropped it to 400.”

“I remember hearing something about the biggest ‘donor’ and they called him… it was something about a shark, like great white or… maybe it was hammerhead?”

“Mako?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“He's wanted for dozens of crimes. I need to go tell Angela, but…” Tim hesitates and pulls you into a tight hug.

You carry the duffel bag filled with seized money in both hands as you approach the darkened warehouse at the Port of Los Angeles. Tim, Angela, Nyla, Nolan, and Lucy are somewhere behind you, and a Metro team is waiting for their command. After you knock four times, the door slides open, and a man dressed in black steps out.

“Where’s Mia?” you ask.

“She’s close, ready to go with you,” he answers cryptically.

“Stall him,” Angela says in your earpiece. “We’ll find her.”

“Can you- can you tell me what he did?” you ask the man.

“You really don’t know, do you? You have no idea about how many people he robbed, how many lives he destroyed.”

“No, I don’t. All I know is that he left me and my daughter, and now you’re trying to ruin our lives.”

“Fool me once.”

“But I didn’t. I had nothing to do with losing your money.”

The man barks a laugh and tries to snatch the duffel bag from you, but you step back quickly.

“Not until I know my daughter is okay,” you snap.

“She’s waiting in a Corolla on the other side of the building, ready for you to drive her home,” he says. “Money, now.”

“I’ve got Mia,” Tim says in your ear. “Metro, move in.”

You sigh in relief just before a swarm of armed officers surround you and your daughter’s abductor. They pull him away from you just as Tim rounds the corner, your daughter safe in his arms.

“Mia!” you call, running toward them.

You crash into them, wrapping one arm around Mia and the other around Tim’s waist. Mia wraps her arm around your neck and shifts her weight toward you as Tim holds you close. She rambles against you until you wipe the tears from her face.

“Are you okay, baby?” you ask.

She nods, then reaches toward Tim. He takes her hand, and Mia lowers her head to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Tim, standing against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies. “You too, Mia, and I meant what I said.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, and he whispers, “I promised a trip to the toy store and her favorite diner for milkshakes.”

Mia nods against you as you ask, “Am I invited?”

“What do you think, Mia?” Tim asks. “Can Mom come?”

“Yeah,” she answers against you. “Love you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell her.

She mumbles something, then says, “Love you, Daddy.”

You look at Tim and smile as you raise your hand to his cheek. He looks like he might cry, but he has a much better story about how Mia made him cry today.

2000 Leagues

Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!Coast Guard!reader

Summary: Karadec is searching for a stolen yacht and a missing person. You assist him and his team in finding the ship, but you land yourself in the middle of a dangerous case.

Warnings: angst, yearning, character death, drowning, murder, fluff and a happy ending!!

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

A/N: 2000.

High Potential Masterlist | Masterlist Directory | Request Rules/Info

“Karadec.”

Daphne and Oz lock eyes when Karadec answers the phone, sharing a silent hope that it’s a quick case and they can leave on time today.

“Why assign it to us?” Karadec questions. “Wouldn’t that fall to Robbery/Homicide?”

“One can hope,” Daphne mumbles.

“Yes,” Karadec says. “I understand. My team and I will be there. Thanks.”

He sighs as he turns toward his team.

“We working a robbery or a homicide?” Oz asks.

Shaking his head, Karadec answers, “A stolen yacht.”

“That is not in our purview,” Oz argues after blinking several times.

“It is when the owner was reported missing three days before the yacht was removed from its spot at the marina.”

“Who’s the owner?” Daphne inquires.

“Local millionaire named Ashton Weatherford.”

“Of Weatherford Water Sports?” Morgan interjects.

Karadec doesn’t look surprised but sounds utterly exasperated as he asks, “How did you get here so fast? I just texted you.”

“I was nearby.”

“Of course you were,” Karadec sighs.

“And, yes,” Oz replies. “Ashton is the CEO of Weatherford Water Sports, but his brother Simon is the owner. Has been since their father’s death three years ago.”

“If he wanted the company to himself,” Daphne muses. “That’s good motive.”

“But we’re not sure Ashton’s disappearance has anything to do with the stolen yacht,” Karadec points out.

“How would one steal a yacht?” Morgan asks. “It’s not exactly the most inconspicuous of the vehicles.”

“That’s a good question,” Daphne agrees. “How do we go about looking for it, Karadec?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his chin as he thinks. They’ve worked robberies, homicides, missing persons, and every combination of major crimes; the stolen item has never been as grand as a yacht.

“The federal government has jurisdiction in territorial seas,” Morgan begins. “Within 12 nautical miles. The US Exclusive Economic Zone, however, has 200 nautical miles. The state has certain authorities in the EEZ, but that usually has to do with resources and marine life. If that yacht went out to sea…”

“We don’t have time to jump through hoops with the feds or the EEZ,” Daphne says.

“Not with our missing person coming up on six days,” Oz adds. “He’s already not likely to be recovered alive.”

“Especially if he’s on the yacht,” Morgan whispers.

“I can call in a favor,” Karadec interjects. He takes a deep breath and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “Let me see if I can get an assist a little faster. Oz, start pulling warrants for the yacht’s GPS, and somebody find me footage from the marina the day before the yacht was reported stolen.

“On it,” Daphne replies.

“Who are you calling?” Morgan inquires, perching on the corner of Karadec’s desk. “Ronnie? Another FBI agent who likes you a little more?”

“Hello,” Karadec greets, ignoring Morgan. “I’m Detective Adam Karadec, LAPD. I’d like to speak to CMC- Thank you.”

“You know a Command Master Chief Petty Officer of the United States Coast Guard?” Morgan asks.

“Hopefully it’s enough,” Karadec murmurs.

You stretch your hands above your head and look out of your office window. The Pacific is calm today, with 3-foot waves rolling in every 18 seconds and a steady temperature of 54 degrees. You aren’t supposed to be at work today, but you were called in to complete some paperwork from a recent expedition. Now that you’re finished, you have to decide if you want to get ahead on next week’s work or go home and enjoy the rest of the day.

“Ma’am, there’s a detective from the LAPD calling for you on line three,” an officer alerts, standing at attention in your doorway.

“Thank you,” you reply. After he steps away, you lift the phone and pull it to your ear. “Good morning,” you greet.

“Good morning,” Detective Karadec responds.

You smile, leaning back in your chair. “What can I do for you today, Detective?”

“I’m investigating a missing person’s case,” he explains. “It seems that the man’s yacht was reported stolen a few days after his disappearance, and we’ve been tasked with finding it.”

“So, you want my team and me to assist you in locating the yacht, which you believe is at sea.”

“Right. We’re trying to recover the GPS data from the ship, but we have reason to believe it hasn’t gone far.”

“Where was it taken from?” you ask, reaching for a map on the side of your desk.

“Long-term dockage contract listed Marina Del Ray,” he answers. “The LA DBH was less than helpful, but they’re looking for video.”

“If the slip was rented long-term, there’s likely bills for electricity, water, and Internet,” you explain. “I’d get a warrant for those to try to nail down the time those services were discontinued.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“The yacht was reported stolen, what, two days ago?” Karadec hums affirmatively, and you look at the list of ocean conditions for the past week. “Assuming that it was taken some time the night before… conditions have been mild. Waves were higher last night and some patchy fog, but they could still be 200 nautical miles from the coast by now.”

“Ask if she thinks the ship could be docked at a different slip,” someone whispers.

“Have a new lady friend, Karadec?” you tease. “Is she at your desk for business or pleasure?”

“She’s a consultant,” Karadec says flatly. “Could the yacht be taken to a different slip?”

“If someone already had it rented or had a private slip, then possibly. They couldn’t rent out a new one without providing owner documentation and identification,” you explain. “If you think someone close to the victim took the vessel, then absolutely.”

“We’ll see if Simon has a slip,” Karadec murmurs. “And the other thing?”

“I’ll have a boat and a crew ready to sail from Marina del Rey,” you offer. “Give me an hour.”

“Thank you,” Karadec says.

“Of course. I owe you a lot more than this. See you soon.”

“You have a contact in the Coast Guard?” Morgan explains after Karadec ends the call. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I have told you that, Morgan?” he questions. “It’s my contact, and believe it or not, we don’t have to call in military favors often.”

“Are we going out to sea?”

“We are not. Daph, Oz, and I are,” Karadec corrects.

“You need my help,” Morgan argues. “This guy isn’t just floating over the continental shelf thinking about the best route to get two thousand leagues away.”

“That’s six thousand miles, Morgan,” Karadec says. “He isn’t going to Russia.”

Morgan stops, pinching her brows as she considers Karadec’s statement. “You know leagues?” she asks.

“Yes. We’re not completely incompetent.”

“We’ve got the GPS records,” Oz announces.

“Great,” Karadec says, pushing out of his chair. “Find Daphne and meet me outside. We’re going to Marina del Rey.”

“Shotgun!” Morgan calls.

“Good…” you hesitate and look at your watch before finishing, “morning, detectives.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” the blonde woman in the iridescent leopard print skirt murmurs.

“This is Morgan Gillory,” Karadec introduces. “She’s a consultant.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, offering your hand as you introduce yourself. “And a pleasure as always, Daphne, Oz.”

“Same to you,” Daphne says, pulling you into a quick hug.

“How do you all know each other?” Morgan asks.

“Lot of water under the bridge,” you answer, smiling. “If you’ll excuse my lack of uniform, today was supposed to be my day off. So, no titles or ma’ams or anything like that required.”

“As long as you show us the same courtesy,” Oz replies.

“Deal. Anyone need anything before we board? Dramamine? Sunscreen?”

“Depends on how you helm the boat,” Karadec murmurs.

“What happened to no secrets, partner?” Morgan asks.

You walk down the dock beside Karadec, and smile as you look at him and whisper, “Partner?”

“Something like that,” he answers. “Thanks for your help.”

“Oh, blessing my eyes with those sunglasses is all the thanks I need. Now put on your lifejacket and keep an eye out for a ten-meter yacht with a red jet ski decal on the port side, correct?”

“That’s the one,” Daphne answers, pulling a yellow life jacket over her head.

“Seaman Quinn and Seaman Jefferson will be able to assist you in boarding the vessel should we find it,” you say, introducing the two other members of your team.

“Why isn’t every case like this?” Morgan asks, sitting back in the seat as you accelerate out into the Pacific.

“We’re looking for Ashton Weatherford, not tanning,” Karadec snaps. “Show a little respect.”

You catch a glimpse of something about a mile ahead. The sun reflects off a red strip, then glints a bright white before the light dims.

“A- Karadec,” you call.

He stands from the seats lining the side of the boat and walks carefully to your side. You point over the boat screen.

“That look familiar?” you ask. “Big white ship, bright red accent?”

“You found it,” Karadec applauds, standing up straighter. “How far out is it?”

“Just under a mile, I’d guess. We can reach it in two minutes if you’re ready.”

“Daph, Oz,” he says over his shoulder. “Get ready.”

You nod to your subordinates, and they prepare the rope and grappling devices needed to go from your boat to the yacht’s deck. As you approach the yacht, you slow the speedboat. The yacht isn’t moving and doesn’t appear to be anchored; it’s simply floating in the sea. While you instruct your team, Karadec, Daphne, and Oz prepare to board the stolen yacht.

“I’m going first,” you say, connecting the carabiner on your belt to the rope.

“This is LAPD’s case,” Karadec argues. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“And you brought the case to the Coast Guard,” you remind him. “I’m not going in alone.”

You plant your feet on the side of the yacht before you begin the ascent. The rope shifts slightly as Karadec follows you. Having him behind you gives you more comfort and a stronger sense of security than you get from your own team. At the top of the front deck, you carefully climb over and land soundlessly on the teak floorboards. Pulling your weapon from your holster, you cover the detectives behind you as they imitate your movements.

“I don’t hear anything,” you whisper.

“Why steal a ship like this to abandon it?” Oz wonders.

You signal to Karadec before you go in different directions, each approaching a door on either side of the deck. As soon as you push the door open, you step back.

“I know why they left the ship,” you murmur.

Karadec nods, motions to Daphne and Oz to wait, then follows you down the stairs. In the galley, you round a corner with your weapon raised. Immediately, you see coagulated blood on the floor, the source of the unmistakable smell you encountered at the door. While Karadec covers you, you walk through the galley and clear the rest of the cabin.

“We found your missing person,” you say when you return to Karadec’s side.

“Rest of the ship is clear,” Oz calls down the stairs. "What's unlocked, at least."

You follow Karadec back to the main deck, take a deep breath, and attempt to calm your stomach. Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you’ve been so near a dead body, but the sights and smells of death will never become easier to deal with.

“Ashton Weatherford was murdered,” Karadec says. He glances toward you, but you’ve recovered before he can ask if you’re alright. This isn’t your first time encountering the evil of the world, he knows, but he cares about you.

“So,” Morgan begins, leaning against the rail. “How do we solve a murder at sea? Which, by the way, is more Agatha Christie-esque than I anticipated.”

“LAPD still has jurisdiction,” you begin. “But if you need any more assistance, please let me know. My team can extract data from the ship’s computer, examine it’s body, anything you may need.”

“We’ll head back to the station and get the proper warrants. Oz, call it in?”

Oz nods and turns away to call Lieutenant Soto. You also make a call, and with the guarantee that a tug ship is on its way out to recover the murder scene, you relax. The case is far from over, but the answers Karadec seeks now have a physical representation. He’s a good detective, so you have no doubt he will solve the case. It may be too late to save the yacht's owner, but he’ll get justice. That you know.

“Is there fuel in this?” you ask suddenly.

“I didn’t think to look,” Daphne answers.

Karadec nods, so you travel to the bridge and turn the key enough to see the gauges without starting the engine. You snap a picture before returning the key to the OFF position. As you walk through the ship, you look at the picture and try to make sense of the mismatched information displayed.

“Help!” someone yells.

You stop, looking around as you slide your phone into your pocket and retrieve your gun. The sound was muffled, but the intended word was hard to misunderstand. You push into a closet, but it’s empty. Turning, you look for any other place where someone might be hiding or stuck.

“US Coast Guard!” you call. “Where are you?”

“In here!” the muffled voice answers. “The bag! Help!”

There’s no bag in sight, so you prepare to call Karadec. Before you can, a metallic screeching causes you to jerk to the right. The lifeboat extended over the edge of the boat drops rapidly. Leaning over the rail, you see the large black duffel bag in the lifeboat. The deflated lifeboat, you realize.

“Karadec!” you scream, pointing your gun up as you twist to look at the balcony deck above you. It’s clear, so you holster your weapon and watch the raft crash into the ocean.

You push yourself onto the rail, keeping one foot on it as you watch the person in the bag flail wildly.

“What are you doing?” Karadec demands, running around the corner.

“There was somebody else on board!” you answer. “I’m going in.”

Karadec moves faster than you, wrapping his hand around your arm and pulling you back onto the deck.

“Let me go,” you plead, pushing against his chest.

“That dive could kill you!” he exclaims.

You stop, your hands spread against his shirt. “And whoever is in the bag could die. Please, let me go. Tell my team which side of the ship we’re on. And find whoever put that person in there to die; they’re probably still on board.”

“Daph!” Karadec calls. “There’s someone else on board. Find him.”

Daphne nods, then leads Oz away. Karadec’s grip on you loosens, so you pull away from him and return to the rail.

“You owe me dinner if I survive this,” you say, smiling before you jump off the rail. As you near the water, you tense your muscles, point your toes, and enter the water in one tight line. It hurts, and your limbs feel heavy as you’re submerged in the cool water. Opening your eyes, you ignore the burn of the salt water as you search for the sinking black bag. Your head feels like it’s shrinking, and your vision begins to narrow, blackening around the edges as your fingers wrap around the end of the bag.

“Go!” Karadec yells. “Now!”

Morgan holds on to the back of her seat, looking out into the ocean as the speedboat accelerates quickly around the bow to the starboard side of the yacht. The deflated life raft is still rising and falling with the waves, but there’s no sign of you or the person in the bag you claimed to have seen. Karadec leans over the stern, looking for you, but the water is too dark to see anything.

“Karadec!” Oz calls from the main deck of the yacht. “We’ve got Simon in custody!”

“She’s been under too long,” Karadec decides, shedding his blazer. “I’m going in.”

“We can’t let you do that, sir,” Seaman Quinn argues.

“And I can’t sit here and let her drown!”

“You can’t stop both of us,” Morgan adds, standing beside Karadec.

“She is my CMC,” Jefferson says. “You think this isn’t killing me?”

“Clearly it isn’t, or you would’ve jumped in already!” Morgan argues. She steps between the officers and Karadec, and he takes the opportunity to jump over the edge and into the water.

“Man overboard,” Jefferson says. “We have to pull him back in.”

“Actually, you need to help Detectives Forrester and Ozdil secure the prisoner, no?” Morgan challenges.

“Come on,” Karadec pleads. He inhales deeply, then flips to go under the waves. Without any thought for his safety, he stays under until he sees the black bag. After resurfacing for one more breath, he grips the strap with both hands and pulls as hard as possible while kicking himself back up toward the surface.

Karadec coughs, sputtering water as he breaks through the waves. As he attempts to regain control of his breaths, the officers who refused to let him enter the water assist him in pulling the bag into the speed boat.

“Start compressions, Morgan,” he instructs.

Karadec lowers back into the water, treading for a single breath before he goes under again. This time, he realizes that a long black thread-like trail extends from the bag, now above him, into the darkness beneath the boat. He uses his arms and legs to dive deeper into the water, ignorant of the lowering temperature and increasing pressure as he follows the line.

He feels you before he sees you. The line is attached to your belt, and Karadec hooks his fingers under it to pull you up against his chest. Then, he wraps his left arm under your arms and holds you tightly as he pulls with his right arm and kicks his legs to save your life.

When his own vision begins dimming, and his lungs burn for oxygen, Karadec swims harder, tightening his grip on you as he reaches for the light above you. He remembers gasping, pushing himself onto his back to get your head above the water, and then everything goes black.

“… still no pulse,” Daphne says, but it’s strained, full of terror and heartbreak.

Karadec realizes she’s crying as his senses return one at a time. When he remembers that there were three people in the water, he sits up quickly. He coughs, heaving water from his lungs before he can look around.

The wind whips harshly around him as Seaman Quinn pushes the boat as hard and fast as it will go. Karadec feels the bite of the breeze on his wet skin but forgets about his pounding head as he reaches for you.

“Hey, hey, there you are,” Morgan soothes someone over their retches.

But it’s not you, Karadec knows. He crawls to you on his hands and knees. On your other side, Daphne is kneeling as she counts chest compressions through her tears.

“Come on,” Daphne begs, slowing as she drops her head to your chest to listen for your heartbeat.

“You’re okay,” Morgan says.

Karadec pulls his eyes from your lifeless body just long enough to see that the unknown victim in Morgan’s arms is a child. He can’t be more than 10 or 11, and he clings to Morgan out of relief, terror, and likely confusion.

“It’s been too long,” Karadec mumbles.

“No, it hasn’t,” Daphne argues, her face tear-streaked as she looks up at him.

“Daph,” Oz says softly, pulling her back. “Let me take over.”

Oz begins more compressions and blows air into your lungs. Karadec owes you dinner, but as he holds your cold hand and stares out at the passing waves, he feels like he’ll never eat again. You wanted to save someone, and exchanging your own blood and fury to do so took you to depths Karadec couldn’t pull you back from.

When Oz tips your head back to breathe into your mouth again, you twitch. It’s not enough to be promising, but Karadec pulls his attention back to you, holding your hand as you near the Coast Guard port at Marina del Rey. Emergency services are waiting by, but if Oz can get a sign of life now, Karadec might be able to breathe again. He wishes the water in your lungs could be transferred to his. He’d breathe past it for eternity if it meant another minute with you.

“Got a pulse!” Oz exclaims as he renews chest compressions.

You gag, so Karadec shifts to keep your head straight and avoid worsening your condition. As Oz finishes the round of compressions and Jefferson announces that he’s docking, you cough harshly and sit up. Before you can choke on the water in your airways, Karadec pats your back firmly. You cough again, spitting water onto the deck as you heave.

“Breathe, breathe,” Karadec mutters, holding you tightly.

You look up at him, take a shaky breath, then look around the boat. When you see the boy in Morgan’s arms, you collapse against Karadec’s chest. You begin shaking, and Karadec pushes you away, fearing that something else has happened. He sees the tears trailing down your face and pulls you into his lap to hold you.

You’re both wet and injured, but the feeling of your heart beating against Karadec’s is more than proof you were revived. As the paramedics pull you apart, you let yourself lose consciousness once more. What was supposed to be an easy day helping Karadec find a stolen yacht has taken a turn, and the last thing you hear is Karadec’s demand to be taken to the same hospital as you.

“It’s not good,” the doctor says under her breath. “The physical injuries are the most promising part of this.”

“Where is she?” Karadec asks. His voice is rough and it hurts to talk. The lights above him hurt his head even though his eyes are closed.

“Who?” you question.

Karadec turns his head toward your voice. He opens his eyes slowly. You send him a close-lipped smile from your hospital bed – which has been moved to be directly beside his. Your lips are chapped, you’re wearing an oxygen mask, and an IV is taped to your hand to deliver medication and liquids. Karadec realizes then that he’s wearing a mask as well.

“Who is the doctor talking about?” he rasps.

“The boy: Kevin Weatherford,” you answer. “Simon was worried Ashton was raising him to take over when he turned 18. Decided to get both of them out of the way.”

“Kevin?”

“He’ll be alright, eventually. The water damaged his lungs, but there’s hope that it can be surgically repaired. From what I understood, the doc’s biggest concern is his mental health.” You cough, folding in on yourself to mitigate the pain.

“I’m sorry,” Karadec offers, brushing his fingers against yours.

“For what? You saved my life, Adam.”

“I shouldn’t have let you jump.”

“Then Kevin might not be here. I made a choice, and I would do it again.”

“You’re awake!” Daphne says softly, stepping into the room. “It’s good to see you both again.”

“Thank you,” you and Karadec say together. Your sternum is fractured because of the CPR you received from Daphne and Oz, but you’re breathing because of it, and, over time, you’ll heal. The thanks you can offer will never be enough.

“How are you?” you ask.

“I’m not answering that,” Daphne replies. “You… we thought we lost you.”

“Does Kevin have anyone?” Karadec inquires.

“His mom and grandmother are here,” she answers. “Morgan’s been at his side the entire time, too.”

“Good.”

Karadec looks at you again, and you move your fingers over his. This morning, you told Karadec you owed him more than one favor, but now you owe him and his team your entire life.

“Room for one more?” Lieutenant Soto asks, knocking lightly on the open door.

“Always,” Karadec answers.

She enters and closes the door, then pulls the cord on the blinds to block the light and the eyes in the hallway.

“Are you really going to fire me while I’m still in the hospital?” Karadec grumbles.

“Quite the opposite. Although there is some internal discussion about why the LAPD and the Coast Guard were out in the Pacific without notification, we’re too happy you’re both alive, so we’re not going to deal with that right now.”

“We radioed,” you reply.

“Several times,” Daphne adds.

“You did?” Soto asks. “To LAPD or Marina del Rey?”

“Both,” you, Karadec, and Daphne answer together.

“He had a jammer on the yacht,” you realize, remembering the odd readings on the gauges.

“That’s why the GPS pinged randomly, and we didn’t get confirmation from a medic until we were a mile out,” Daphne adds.

“That yacht will be ripped apart,” Soto assures you. “And Simon is lawyered up, but there’s more than enough evidence to charge him with murder, grand larceny, several counts of attempted murder, and much more.”

You feel your blinks grow heavy and squeeze Karadec’s hand. “Can we have one minute before you give us the good news?” you request.

“Of course,” Soto answers. “In fact, I’ll come back tomorrow. Get some rest and feel better.”

“Thank you,” Karadec calls after her.

When you’re alone, with the door closed and the room darkened, you pull your oxygen mask off your face and look at the man beside you.

“I should’ve told you before,” you say. “Before I jumped, before I hung up the phone this morning. Every chance I had.”

“Don’t think about what you didn’t do,” Karadec encourages. “Not after the heroics you displayed today.”

You wipe the first tear off your face harshly, startled by the feeling of water on your face.

“I should have said it, too,” he replies. “But, what’s stopping us from saying it now?”

“The life-saving equipment between us, mostly.”

Karadec smiles, and you hear it, even if you don’t say it. You’ve missed opportunities to say it, but have seized every opportunity to show it.

Three Months Later

“Front page,” you muse, looking over Karadec’s shoulder. “Not bad.”

“Soto’s going to frame this,” he complains.

You bend at the waist and kiss his jaw, laughing as you stand before he can turn and return the affection. Karadec catches your wrist, pulling you back toward him. Your hands land on his shoulders, and you smile down at him. The front-page picture of you, both in uniform with your newly awarded medals of valor, is forgotten as you lean against Karadec’s desk and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

His hand ghosts over a scar on your abdomen from the wire that saved your life, and you use your pointer finger to lift his chin. When your eyes meet, his smile grows to match yours. Karadec stands, pulling you against him and into a hug that warms you from the inside out. You’ve both been required to attend therapy following your accident. Though some moments are worse than others, you think you can do anything together. This is the place where you feel most capable: in Karadec's strong, loving arms.

“Kevin is coming by the station today,” Karadec says against your shoulder. “If you want to come.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise, tightening your grip on him as your cheek squishes against his shoulder and distorts your voice.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” you promise.

Karadec sways gently, then releases you, dragging his hands down your arms as you prepare to spend time together before he returns to work. His phone buzzes during breakfast, and he shakes his head before he shows you the message.

“‘Name your first kid Morgan, it’s unisex,’” you read. You hum, then say, “Not the name I was thinking.”

Karadec drops his phone at your admission of thinking about it, and your breakfast grows cold as he holds you in his arms, the place that has become home.

Giving Zoro Head On The Ship Deck 18+

Aka- Getting dick on the deck

Imagine the crew docking to boat at the nearest island and going into town. Leaving Zoro and You alone. It had always been a fantasy of yours to have sex on the deck. The thrill of someone possibly seeing you. But your mind is consumed with the need to pleasure him. Tears dripping down your face. Saliva dripping down your chin.

He would periodically stroke your cheek while praising you on how well you take him. The feeling of pride takes of you when he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure all he can do is throw his head back and moan. Even when he dose finally release into your mouth you don’t stop until he has nothing left to give.

Pulling off of him and sitting up all you could do was aww at how beautiful he looked is this moment. The usual composed and tough man was almost like putty in your hands. His cheeks flushed and sheen of sweat was on his face and chest.

As he was about to gently push you onto your back to return the favor. You both heard Luffy loudly asking Sanji, “what and when they were having dinner.” because he was starving. Even though he just ate so much meat in town not even ten minutes ago.

So Zoro had to compromise and tell you to meet him later that night so he can show how much he appreciated you. Safe to say you wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep that night.

Authors note:

By the way this is a really shitty pic I just took photos off of Pinterest and mashed them together.

Also this is my first time writing. Please be some what nice.

Thanks for reading.


Warnings : intruder at elementary school

Summary: You have to respond to a dangerous situation at your kid’s school and some rookies have something not so pleasant to say.

Word Count: 1600ish

Unfortunate visitor from the past

Now you are engaged, and Tim is now a Metro Liaison Sergeant. Both of you keep your personal lives very private, so only Sergeant Grey and Angela know about Jasper.

You and Tim walk into the precinct to the smell of stale coffee and printer ink. The station is filled with the soft shuffling of papers and soft morning chatter amongst the other officers before roll call. You both head to the locker rooms where Tim changes into his uniform, and you get ready with Harper, Lopez, Chen, and Jaurez. You all chat about cases you've been working on and discuss plans for girls night.

"Y/L/N, come see me in my office for a second," Sargeant Grey calls across the bullpen from his office door.

You walk over and step into his glass office. "What can I do for you, sir? you ask politely.

"Officer Wrigley called out sick, and I need someone to train Officer Daniels today. I know you haven't been a T.O. for years, but you're all I got." He explains from behind his desk.

"Don't worry about it; I got it, sir." You say with reassurance.

"Thank you. You're dismissed." He says, and you walk out to change into your patrol uniform.

30 minutes later you're walking into the roll call room. You walk down the aisle and sit next to Nolan.

"Hey Y/N, are you riding patrol today?" He asks, noticing that you're in uniform today.

"Yeah, Grey's got me filing in for Wrigley today." You replied as Sergeant Grey walks up to the podium at the front of the room.

Sergeant Grey then leads roll call, and Tim discusses a suspect that Metro is tracking. His facial expression slightly changes once he notices you’re in uniform, but he remains professional during the briefing.

“Why are you in uniform?” Tim asks in an unamused tone as he walks up to you after Grey dismissed everyone.

“Grey needs me to train Daniels today because Wrigley called out,” you explain to him.

“You haven’t been a T.O. for at least ten years,” he protests. He doesn’t like the idea of you riding patrol, much less with a “toddler with a gun.”

“It’s just for today, Tim; I’ll be ok,“ you say with a reassuring smile while looking up at him.

“Alright, if there are any problems, call me,” he says.

Later that day, while you’re riding with Officer Daniels, you get a call from Tim.

“Hey Tim,” you say once you answer your phone from the holder in the shop.

“Y/N, you need to come back to the station; it’s about Jasper.” He says in a soft but serious tone.

“Why is he ok? Is something wrong?” you ask while your face heats up and your heart starts beating fast.

“We’ll talk when you get here; I love you,” he says calmly.

“I love you too. We’ll be there in 5 minutes,” you reply before ending the call.

"May I ask who Jasper is?" Officer Daniels asks next to you.

“My son,” you reply in a stern voice.

"Is he— " he starts, but you cut him off.

"No more questions, boot," you bark, sounding a little too much like Tim.

You pull into the garage area of the station and park.

“Get the gear squared away, then come find me when you’re done.” You say as you round the front of the shop and stand next to the passenger side to make sure Officer Daniels understands.

“Yes ma’am,” he responds as he starts grabbing the war bags from the back of the shop.

You turn away from the shop and walk through the glass doors and enter the station. With heavy limbs and an anxious feeling, you look around for Tim.You walk into the bullpen and see him in Grey’s office. You take a breath and walk over to the glass door and step in. Tim is sitting in front of Grey in his Metro uniform with his sleeves pushed up.

“What happened? Is he ok?“ you ask in a shaky, uneven tone.

“Sit, Y/N,” Tim says calmly while gesturing to the chair next to him.

Despite wanting to remain standing, you slide into the seat next to Tim.

“We got a call about someone trying to break into Jasper’s school. They’re on lockdown until we can identify the suspect.” Grey says slowly with concern written across his face.

Tim reaches over and holds your hand to provide reassurance.

“Do we know if he’s ok?” You ask, concerned.

“As far as we know, he’s perfectly fine. I sent Metro there on standby.” Tim says in a soft tone.

“Do we have visual on the suspect?” You ask about switching from being a worried mother to a cop.

“Yes, Metro got a shot of him.” Grey says, passing over a tablet.

Your eyes widen as you focus on the man in front of you. You know this man, if you can even call him a man. You never thought you’d see or hear from him again.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Y/N,” Grey says, breaking the silence.

“I know who this is. It’s Jasper’s biological father,“ you exclaim.

“Has he ever tried contacting you before in the past?” Grey asks.

You shake your head. “Nopenever. He said he didn’t want anything to do with him once I told him I was pregnant.” You reply.

Just then Tim’s phone rings.

“Suspect has broken into the building; do you want us to go in after him?” Wells, one of Tim’s buddies from Metro, says on the other side.

Tim looks up to Grey for confirmation, and Grey nods.

“Yes be advised that he is the father of one of the students, “ Tim says to Wells.

You abruptly stand up and head to the door.

Tim immediately gets up after you. "Where are you going?" He asks worriedly.

"To go help," you say.

"No, you're too close to this. I don't want you to do something irrational you'll regret." Sargeant Grey says.

"Then what am I supposed to do? I won't be able to focus on anything else." You exclaim worriedly while messing with your engagement ring.

"Then I will have you sit in a shop out of sight during the operation. Bradford, you can give orders from there." Sergeant Grey compromises reluctantly. He wants to protect his children as much as possible.

Meanwhile...

A couple of the rookies sit in the bullpen doing paperwork with their T. Os are sitting at a nearby table.

"I found out Detective Y/L/N has a son today." Officer Daniels shares with the group.

"She does?" Another rookie named Brooks asks.

"Is it with Bradford?" Another asks.

"Can't be. He was married before Y/L/N." A nearby P2 says.

"Wait, he was?" Brooks exclaims.

"Yeah, to a UC. Got hooked on drugs, though going undercover." The P2 explains.

Just as the P2 finishes their sentence, Tim clears his throat. "Are you idiots done?" He barks at them.

The group looks back at him in shock. They are too stunned to respond to Tim. You stand next to him, just as shocked as they are that someone would talk about a fellow officer like that.

"You all should know better than to talk about another officer's personal business like that, let alone a senior officer." He yells at them.

He looks directly at the P2 standing next to where Officer Brooks is sitting. "You've been a cop longer than them; you should have corrected them. Now if I hear talk like this again, you'll be getting a blue page," Tim says finally.

"Come on, baby, let's go see about Jasper, Tim says to you while putting his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the door to the garage area.

10 minutes later, you and Tim pull up to Jasper's school right as you hear Metro call in a code four. A few ambulances pull up a few minutes later to make sure there aren't any injuries.

Tim steps out of the car and gestures for you to get out after him. He walks over to where Wells is, with you walking closely next to him. His fingers lightly brush against yours as you walk.

“Hi Sir, we didn’t have any casualties, and your son is perfectly safe. Only a few staff members were slightly injured. The suspect is in that shop over there if you would like to question him." Wells explains to both of you.

"Thank you," Tim says before turning to you.

"What do you want to do?" He asks.

"I don't want to talk to his father, but I would like to see Jasper," you say to Tim.

"I'll go talk to the principal and see if you guys can take him now,“ Wells suggests.

"Thank you,” you say.

10 minutes later, Wells brings Jasper out with his things.

"Mom! Dad!" Jasper calls while running straight to you and Tim.

"Hi baby, did you get scared?" You ask while you squat down to hug him.

He lets go of you and moves over to hug Tim.

"I was at first, but I knew you guys would be here to help." He leans against Tim's leg while Tim pats his head.

"Are you ready to go home, buddy?" Tim says while bending down to his level.

"Yeah, I miss Kojo," Jasper says, and Tim and you both giggle.

You watch as Tim holds Jasper's hand as they walk over the shop. You're very proud of Tim for sticking with you and being such a good dad to Jasper when his wasn't around.

Freedom - Walt Deville Imagine (The Invitation)

Title: Freedom

Pairing: Walt Deville X Reader

Word Count: 1,145 words

Warning(s): mention of violence/potential violence

Summary: A hunter meets a vampire. The unstoppable force meets the unbreakable object, allowing for the ultimate battle between logic and desire.

Author's Note: Here's that longer plotline I mentioned on my last imagine.

Part of this was inspired by a gorgeous monologue written by Ross McGregor and performed by Christopher Tester. You can find it here! It was truly the last thing that I needed to help me tie this whole plotline together, so go check it out. It's fucking beautiful work.

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

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

"I know what you are."

I froze on the landing of the stairs, looking up at the top of the other staircase.

Walt stood on the top step; one eyebrow slightly raised. He tilted his head at me. Like he expected me to spill every secret to him just because he looked at me.

I knew in my heart what he was referring to. If someone gets a job on your estate with some ulterior motive, you will probably notice at some point.

I was a hunter.

I had been for a long time.

My hunting partner had sent me on this job, insisting that I was the best choice to go undercover and figure out the truth about what was happening in the manor.

I was meant to run under the radar, take care of the vamp, and run for the hills.

I had been there for weeks.

I was convinced I knew who it was. I believed it was Mr. Fields. He was constantly tense and seemed to be always overly cautious. I can admit when I'm wrong, but I didn't think I was at the time.

All I had to do after that was find the time to take care of him.

Which was proving ridiculously difficult.

That's the only reason that I had been there as long as I had.

I never meant for Walt to even notice me.

But once he had, I couldn't just avoid him. It would've given away that there was something about me to focus on.

We talked. A lot.

I had confessed more to him than I ever meant to. I had managed to tell him so much about myself without saying I was a hunter. I shouldn't have said as much as I did, but he seemed so interested and so... kind.

And now he was standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at me like he was daring me to do something. Run, fight, anything at all.

"What do you mean," I finally asked. I needed confirmation.

"A hunter."

There it was.

Nevertheless, I scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about, Walt."

"You don't?"

"Not at all."

"I don't believe you," he started walking down the steps. "Hunters... they always get just a little too confident."

When he made it down most of the stairs, I took off, going to run down the rest of the staircase. The one night I didn't have a weapon. I had no intention of fighting. He was right behind me, dragging me away from the steps and shoving me to the wall, pinning my wrists with his hands. I flinched a bit, having narrowly avoided hitting the things on and by the wall.

Walt offered a sickeningly sweet smile.

I caught sight of the fangs in the dim light around us. I had been so convinced that it was Mr. Fields. I was such an idiot.

"You hide it well," Walt said quietly. He was so calm that it made me entirely uneasy. "Many hunters have shown up on my doorstep... you've been the most impressive."

I tried to kick him, or just move my leg some way. It didn't work.

"Shh, shh, shh," he chuckled a bit. I felt his claws dig into my skin slightly. "Stop moving."

I calmed down, realizing the risk right now.

"I could kill you now," he muttered, his lips finding my neck. "Hunters were always the most satisfying... but I have no interest in that now."

He pulled away again. I don't know what he was looking for as his eyes scanned every part of my face.

"You are... something very, very different... so clever and so brave and so... tempting..."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I froze. His lips were slow, attempting to guide mine to move with them. I almost did. My eyes started to flutter close, longing starting to stop my logical thought.

He pulled away as he moved from holding my wrists to gently holding my hands. Vulnerable. Open for me to take action. Shove, fight, hit.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

He lifted one of my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm before turning it over to kiss the back. He held it there for a while. It was like he wanted to stop time and hold onto this moment.

"Leave him," Walt said softly. I blinked at him, suddenly snapping back into focus. "Stay here... with me."

I didn't answer. I wanted to quickly decline. To kill him and go home to my normal life. Achieve what my partner wanted of me.

Walt's eyes were closed as another kiss was pressed to my hand.

"He craves your usefulness," he continued. "Your obedience. I... I just want you. You've captured my mind and my heart. I long for you. Stay with me. Please."

"I...," still speechless. How long had it been since I was last speechless? Had that ever happened?

"Imagine it," Walt moved back, guiding me away from the wall.

He stepped behind me when we reached the middle of the landing. His arms wrapped around me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"All of this... ours," he muttered. "You would have your own room for your research and your weapons. Every decision would be yours. At last, your choice. You would be loved, taken care of. Nothing earned, everything offered. And then, when the time is right, you will be joined to me forever. We'll dance through midnights and love for centuries. Unstoppable."

I felt like his words were circling my mind, burrowing into whatever part they could find until they had overwhelmed me. I had never heard something like that before. Not directed at me anyway.

"Let me provide everything that man could never," Walt gently kissed my neck, humming against the skin. "Let me adore you."

I took a deep breath. "My life... my work... all my own?"

"All I ask is your love and commitment."

It wasn't the only factor that I was considering, but I needed to know. Locking myself in this house would have driven me mad. Being able to work... to continue my purpose in this world... that's what I needed. I couldn't prove his love false, but I could do just that with his actions.

I turned around in his arms.

He grinned at me.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. His hold on my sides tightened and he pulled me closer. I touched the sides of his face, grinning into the kiss. I had never had a moment feel more complete. I felt at peace. Free.

I leaned back, resting my forehead against his. "Yes... I'll stay."

His grin grew into a wide smile.

Thus was the beginning of my eternity. And what a brilliant eternity it would be.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

Hey, I just got another idea: Deacon introducing his new girlfriend to his kids over dinner and game night.

But from the point of view from one of the kids (as a little challenge😊)

- 🥰

This is such a cute idea! I wrote it from Lila's perspective (1st person POV) and it was certainly a challenge; I haven't written 1st person in a while. I hope it turned out alright, and thank you for the request and the challenge, I enjoyed writing this! Please let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, I imply that Annie is dead but I think you could read it differently. bad writing?

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

EDIT: Part 2 Here

A/N: Writing from Lila's POV was harder than I thought it would be, but I kind of like how it turned out for some reason? Feel free to send feedback or constructive criticism; I admit that this isn't my usual writing style but I'm open to suggestions for improvement!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Rules & Info

The Kay Princesses

Dad has been smiling more. Matthew thinks it’s because his friends at work are doing a good job, but I don’t know if that’s it. Sometimes, when Dad gets home after work, he isn’t smiling, but then he looks at his phone and gets all smiley. Maybe Dad likes his new phone. Or he found a new game!

“Hey,” Dad says as he opens my door. “Ready for dinner?”

When we walk together, Dad always holds my hand or carries me. Today, he tosses me over his shoulder and makes me laugh. Whatever it is that makes him happy, he's more like he used to be.

“Before we eat there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Dad says as he puts me in my chair. “So, a few months ago I met a girl.”

I knew it.

“She’s… she’s amazing. We’ve been getting to know each other and doing fun things. But she and I think it would be nice for her to meet you.”

“Are you replacing Mom?” Matthew asks, crossing his arms. (I want to kick him. Can’t he see Dad is happy?)

“Not at all,” Dad says, smiling at Matthew. His face changes as he adds, “If you don’t like her, then nothing else will happen. Okay?”

Matthew nods, but Dad’s smile is gone.

“Dad? Is she like mom?” I ask.

“Kinda. She’s also smart and beautiful, but she’s different.” His smile is back. “She likes different things, she talks differently. But she is going to love you guys.”

“We might not love her,” Matthew grumbles.

Dad takes a funny breath before tapping the table and walking to the kitchen to get dinner.

“Stop being mean,” I tell Matthew.

“He shouldn’t be talking to someone else. She isn’t Mom and I don’t want her around.”

“She’s not replacing Mom,” Samuel says. “Dad said so.”

“Well, he is. If they’re dating and they get married, then she’ll be our stepmom, meaning replacement,” Matthew says meanly.

“Dad said he’d stop seeing her if we wanted,” I remind him. “But we should meet her first. We might like her.”

Matthew rolls his eyes, which makes him look weirder than usual, and nods. I’m excited to meet her because if she makes Dad smile, she must be extra special.

“Here you are, Samuel,” Dad says when he sets Samuel’s plate down. “Matthew, Princess Lila.”

“Hey, why is she a princess but I’m just Samuel?” Samuel pouts.

I laugh at him, and Dad says, “Why am I not King Dad?”

“Wait, can I see a picture of her? What’s her name?” I ask.

Dad tells us her name, and it’s pretty. Then he shows us a picture of her, and she’s as beautiful as her name.

“She looks like a princess!” I say.

“No, she doesn’t. Princesses wear big dresses and crowns,” Matthew argues.

I want to kick him again, but Dad smiles at Matthew and puts his phone away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Matthew and Samuel are in my room with me when she gets here. I watch out the window as Dad opens her car door and squats to talk to her. 

“I’m going to meet her,” I tell my brothers.

“Dad will introduce us,” Matthew grumbles.

I don’t listen to him, so I walk down the hall but stop when the door opens.

“What if you’re wrong?” she asks.

Dad closes the door and laughs. “I’m not,” he answers. His voice sounds different, happier.

“They’re going to hate me, David.”

Dad laughs again, and I peek around the corner. His arms are around her, and she’s leaning against him.

“They’re not. Everything will be fine.”

“I just want them, and you, to be happy,” she says quietly. “Even if that doesn’t include me.”

“Hey,” Dad says, the same way he does when I’m sad or after I get hurt. “I want you here. I’m happy with you. And the kids? The kids are going to love you.”

“Even Matthew?”

“Especially Matthew.”

She laughs at that, for some reason, before she steps back from Dad.

“We’ll be right back,” Dad whispers. He steps around the corner and stops when he sees me, shaking his head and smiling. “Go say hi.”

While he goes to my room, I step out and wave at her.

“You must be Lila. You’re even prettier than your dad said,” she says. She’s kind, like Dad said.

“I am Lila. My dad says that you’re smart and beautiful and going to love me and my brothers.”

“Well, he’s right about the last thing.”

“How did you meet my dad?”

“We just ran into each other one day. He was working and I was nearby.”

“Can we be on a team for game night? I haven’t been on an all-girls’ team in a while.”

She smiles, which makes her even prettier, and says she would like that. My brothers come back, and Dad introduces everyone to each other while I sit beside her.

“Why do you like my dad?” Samuel asks.

“He’s really good to me, and for me. I think he’s the best guy I’ve ever met.”

She looks at Dad while she talks, and he smiles at her. I like her. She doesn't treat us like little kids, and I like that.

“Why do you want to replace our Mom?” Matthew asks.

She looks at Dad before she answers. “I don’t, Matthew, I promise I don’t. Your dad has told me about your mom, and she sounds amazing.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I want to be with your dad and try to make him happy like he makes me happy.”

“By replacing my mom,” Matthew says as he gets up and walks away.

She looks up at Dad, but they’re not smiling anymore. Dad raises a hand and nods before he follows Matthew. I put my hand in hers, and she looks over at me.

“Do you love my dad?” I ask her.

Her smile returns as she says, “I do. More than anything.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Dad hugs her tightly on the porch before she leaves. I stand beside the window so I can see and hear them.

“If they don’t want me here, I understand. They’re the most important things in your life and they shouldn’t be uncomfortable or upset. I understand if you don’t want me to come back and we can be friends, right?”

“That’s not going to happen. We’ll work through it. Lila loves you.” That’s true. “And Samuel thinks you’re great. Matthew, uh, Matthew just needs some time.”

“I get it. Take all the time you guys need. You’re worth waiting for, Deac.”

They get quiet, and when I look outside again, Dad holds her while they kiss. He pulls back and wipes her face. I think she’s crying.

I decide to help Matthew with his time and walk into his room.

“We need to talk.”

“You always need to talk,” he says.

“Why don’t you like her?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Lila.”

“Who says? You won’t let me try.”

Matthew sighs and rolls away from his comic book to look at me.

“No matter what they say, even if she isn’t a replacement, she’ll end up in Mom’s spot. And I don’t want that.”

“Why not? She’s nice and she loves Dad and he loves her.”

“What are we doing?” Samuel asks as he comes in and sits beside Matthew.

“Talking about Dad’s girlfriend. Matthew doesn’t like her,” I answer.

“She’s nice, and super fun,” Samuel says. I nod and look back at Matthew.

“I never said I didn’t like her,” Matthew says quietly. “I just don’t want her to replace Mom.”

“She can’t replace Mom. They’re so different. It would be like another Mom, not a new one.”

“She even said that she can’t replace Mom and wouldn’t try to. She wants to make Dad happy, which involves us being happy,” Samuel explains. Matthew and I look at him, confused by his wording. “That’s what she told me,” he adds.

“So, you do like her?” I ask.

“I do,” Matthew says quietly. “I’m just scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about. Dad loves us and would never do anything without telling us or making sure we’re okay. That’s why he brought her to meet us. You should give her a chance.”

Matthew nods and stands up. “Let’s go talk to Dad.”

We walk together to the kitchen, where Dad cleans up after dinner and game night.

“Dad, can we talk?” Matthew asks.

Dad dries his hands as he nods and waves his hand toward the couch. When we all sit down, he sits on the table in front of us.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

I look at Matthew because I know he’ll answer the question. “We like her,” he admits, “and I’m sorry for being mean.”

“It’s okay, bud. This is a big change and you’re allowed to have questions and need time to think,” Dad says, putting a hand on Matthew’s leg.

“Is she coming for game night again?” Samuel asks. “Because I want to be on her team this time.”

“No, I do, she’s good,” Matthew argues.

Dad laughs and pats their knees. “If you want, she’ll come for two game nights so you can take turns.”

We nod together, and Dad smiles. She said she wants to make Dad happy, but I think she already is.

“Thank you for meeting her and being open to new things, guys. It was very grown up of you.”

“I didn’t get to tell her she looks like I princess,” I remember.

“You can tell her next time, munchkin. Maybe she’ll even play dress up with you… if you ask really, really nicely.”

That sounds amazing. I can’t wait to see her again. Maybe getting a new mom could be even better than I thought.

✯✯✯✯✯

I can hear Dad talking after he tucks me in. Dad says her name, so I must check if she’s back so soon. Creeping down the hallway, I realize I can only hear Dad.

“I told you Matthew would like you. He just needed to figure out that you’re not trying to replace Annie,” Dad says. “They really, really like you; they want you to come back for game night so you can be on Samuel and Matthew’s team next time.”

He’s quiet for a while before he asks, “Are you crying?” And then, “Are you sure? Because even when you said no it sounded like you were.”

Dad laughs like he used to, but a little different. I guess that’s how the whole thing works: he’s happy but differently than before because you’re different, and now he’s different.

“I told you they’d love you,” Dad says, “just like I do.”

They really do love each other. Dad made a good choice, and we did too.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s finally game night again, and Dad and Matthew have decided to treat it like a “do over,” so they’re acting like they haven’t met her before. I think that’s funny, but I’m glad that she’s coming back either way. I’m by the window watching for her while Dad and Matthew set up the board game.

“She’s here!” I tell Dad.

He thanks me and then walks to the door. Matthew follows him, and I turn to watch. Dad opens the door and smiles.

“Hey,” he greets, a weird tone he only uses for her breaking through. “This is Matthew.”

Matthew shakes her hand, and they smile at each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Matthew says. “Sorry about before.”

“No apology necessary, Matthew. It’s very nice to meet you, too. Your dad has told me lots of good things about you.”

“Really? Like what?”

“He said you’re really good at tonight’s game. So, I was wondering if you’d want to be on my team? I need a lot of help.”

“Sure!”

Matthew leads her to the table where the game is and shows her where he’s sitting. Dad looks at me and winks.

“Dinner first, Matthew,” he says as he walks by. He drags his hand across her back as he passes her. He never did that with Mom, but she isn’t Mom.

“Will you be on my team next time? I get to choose the game next week,” Samuel tells her.

“I’d love to!”

While we eat dinner, she answers our questions and asks us some too. She tells us about where she’s from, her job, her favorite food, and (my question) who her favorite princess is.

“Who is your favorite princess, Lila?” she asks.

Dad smiles at her every time she asks us a question. By dessert, it feels like we’ve known her forever. She agrees to come over just to hang out with me, and I feel great; I stick my tongue out at Samuel, and he laughs at me.

“You take the first turn and I’ll watch,” she whispers to Matthew when we start playing his favorite game.

She watches him and asks him a few questions, then watches Dad as he takes his turn.

“Hey, when do I get to be on your team?” she asks Dad, smiling at him.

“You’re always on my team,” he answers, winking at her.

“Gross,” Matthew whispers.

His eyes widen, and he apologizes quickly before she and Dad start laughing. She tells him it’s okay and asks for his help with her turn. When she’s not talking to us, she looks at Dad.

As he walks her to her car, he kisses her, and spins her around. She’s always been pretty like a princess, but Dad loves her enough to treat her like one, too.

Stood Too Close to a Devil

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!UC!reader

Summary: While investigating a human trafficking ring, you get in too deep. You're abducted and meet a group of women you can't leave behind. After months of fighting, you find your way home to the one safety they couldn't take from you.

Warnings: recommended 16+, human trafficking, child abduction and trafficking, allusions to SA, physical/emotional abuse, imprisonment, r is harmed numerous times, drugging, discussion of scars, depiction of corrupt politicians, comfort and early healing at the end

Word Count: 7.3k+ words

A/N: I used one of @nevereclipse 's fantastic ideas for this! The length clearly got away from me, but I love the idea of Tim being home and providing safety for someone that really needs it. Hopefully this is along of the lines of the original post and please feel free to let me know what you think!🫶🏼

You walk up the metal stairs of the cheap motel, feeling your shirt rise up on your waist with each step. The bag in your hands prevents you from pulling the worn fabric down, but it’s okay. Anything that draws attention is appreciated right now. You knock on the door with one hip pushed out to hold the bag.

“Hey, handsome,” you greet when the door opens. “I got everything you asked for.”

Stepping into the room, you set the overfilled bag on the bed and wait for the door to close. Your shoulders droop as you exhale heavily and pull your shirt down to your hips. “Twenty.”

Nyla’s eyes widen as she repeats, “Twenty? Two-zero?”

Nodding, you push your forefinger and your thumb against your eyebrows. “I know. This is way bigger than I thought.”

“It’s bigger than any of us thought,” the chief of Major Crimes agrees. “How’s your cover?”

Tim interrupts your answer and asks, “How are you?”

Licking your lips, you consider lying. “It’s rough,” you admit. “But I can do it. My cover is intact, no one suspects anything, and I’ve gotten more attention the last three nights.”

“What kind of attention?” Nyla inquires.

“Rich has been watching me while I’m working, and the guy at the front desk of the motel asks me about work every day.”

“They’re prying,” Major Crimes Chief Rodriguez says. “Trying to decide if you’re in a position to be asked.”

“Am I?”

“Not yet,” Nyla answers. “People with steady jobs and the income to stay in a long-term motel aren’t usually desperate enough to traffic.”

“Which we aren’t doing,” Tim reminds you. “We need proof, not for you to get sucked in.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Doesn’t make it easier to watch the twenty women they do choose get trafficked.”

“We’re doing everything we can to recover them,” Rodriguez promises. “Keep your eyes open, head down, get information, and we’ll go from there.”

“Rich got violent last night,” you tell them. “I didn’t see the knife but I heard he had one. Got up in a girl’s face because she asked if he was paying.”

“For?” Nyla asks.

“A dance.”

Tim crosses his arms tightly against his chest. He’d been against the idea of your cover job being in a sleazy bar, but there was no better option. You’re close enough to see what you need to see, yet separated just enough to not be easily pulled into it.

“Any idea when they’re planning to act next?” Rodriguez asks as he jots notes on a small black pad.

“I heard someone say something about ‘payday Friday,’ but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re pulling someone new in,” you reply.

“And it’s still too early for a hotel sting,” Tim complains.

“I’ll ask around with some of the girls, see what I can find out,” you offer. “Anything else?”

“Do you think you could get someone to take you to ‘payday Friday’?” Nyla asks. “I know it’s dangerous, but it they trust you enough, it could help.”

You nod and agree to try, though you know Tim is concerned about it. Tim wraps his hand around your arm as you pick up the emptied bag and prepare to leave. His touch is gentle and warm, and you wish you could melt into it and leave this undercover operation in the past. But you need to infiltrate this organization before they traffic even more innocent women.

“Be careful,” Tim urges you quietly. “This is way bigger than anyone knew, so if you need to get out, pull the ripcord.”

“I will,” you assure. “Thank you. You’ll be close?”

“Always.”

You leave the motel room with the promise that Tim is with you, and though it doesn’t make what you’re about to see any better, it makes your practiced confidence come a bit easier.

The black SUV waiting one block away is probably your backup. Tim’s metro team can’t be far, but as you walk deeper into an alley, following three armed men and their dates, your chest tightens. One of these women may be the target, or they could be compliant witnesses to the cruelty these men get pleasure and monetary gain from daily.

“You’ve met, right?” Rich, a regular at your cover job, asks as he gestures between you and his date.

“I don’t think so,” you answer with a smile. “I’m Jewel.”

“Do you speak Spanish, Jewel?” Rich inquires.

“A little bit.”

“Renata here doesn’t speak any English, but she’s very nice.”

You smile and introduce yourself in Spanish.

“No conozco a estos hombres,” Renata says. Her voice is strained, but her smile remains as she confides in you that she doesn’t know these men.

“What’d she say?” Rich's best friend Kol demands.

With an airy laugh, you answer, “She said she doesn’t know where to meet friends here.” Turning to her, you promise, “Te ayudaré. I told her I’d help her.”

Rich and Kol look at one another, then smile.

“I’m sure she’ll really appreciate your help,” Kol says.

His date snickers as she takes the other woman’s hand. So, they do know, you realize. And I just promised to help a woman who’s probably going to be trafficked while I stand here and watch.

“Hey, is Jewel your real name or just, you know, something you go by?” Rich wonders.

“It’s my real name,” you say, staying close to Renata.

“Sounds like a stripper,” one of the women whispers.

“Do you mind if I ask Renata for her phone number? I’d like to introduce her to some of my friends if she’s free sometime.”

Rich nods before he turns to converse privately with Kol and their dates. You raise your phone and text ‘Landlord,’ who is Tim, that something is about to go down and a woman is in immediate danger. You delete the text from your phone after it says it was delivered.

“¿Tienes un número de teléfono?” you ask Renata.

“Me dijo que la diera a la gente siete números. Me dará un teléfono antes de ayudarme a contactar a mi familia en Venezuela,” she answers quickly.

That’s not good. Rich told her to give seven random numbers and promised to get her a phone after she starts working for him to support her family in Venezuela. You know, like most cops, that if a trafficker thinks someone is willing to work to help their family in another country, they are prime targets.

Given that Rich and Kol are proven traffickers – in addition to committing other crimes – you know that you have to get Renata out of here before it is too late. She’s clearly scared, and if they catch onto her fear or realize that you’re not talking to her about meeting friends, this will go bad quickly. Tim hasn’t answered, and no police have descended on the alley, so you have to think fast. A truck approaches from the southern end of the alley, less than a quarter mile from the freeway. The men are still talking, and you take a deep breath.

“Huir,” you demand under your breath. Run away.

Renata looks at you, then takes off. Kol moves to chase her, but you step out to block his path. You’re too deep, and it will be too late to get out if Tim doesn’t bring Metro in now. But you had to help Renata. Her blood would have been on your hands if you hadn’t. Now, you’re risking your life to let her run to safety.

Rich steps forward and smiles as Kol asks what to do.

“Way I see it?” Rich answers. “We came down here to get another girl. I’m looking at one.”

“I’m not going with you,” you say, stepping back.

Kol pulls a gun from his waistband and replies, “Yeah, you are.”

You prepare to run, hoping that Tim will come around the corner. You’re still undercover, you remind yourself, and whatever happens now could save another life. Your arms are pulled tightly behind you, and you’re pushed into the back of a large white truck.

After the door closes and the truck lurches into motion, someone lights a match, and you see three women huddled in the corner, shaking and scared.

“¿Hablas ingles?” you ask.

“Yes,” one of them answers.

“I’m a police officer, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to help you and get you out of here. Are you hurt?”

“Ilsa is,” the woman with the match says. “They hit her with a metal belt.”

You move deeper into the truck and introduce yourself.

“I’m Maria, and this is my cousin Becca.”

You glance at Becca as you lift the back of Ilsa’s shirt. “How old is Becca?” you whisper.

“Fifteen, she just had her quinceañera," Maria answers.

Exhaling sharply, you examine the swollen red strip spanning Ilsa’s back. As you pull a miniature first aid kit from inside your boot, you say, “We’re going to have to work together, especially to keep Becca safe.”

“Of course,” Maria answers.

“They’re monsters,” Ilsa says. You notice immediately that her accent sounds Russian. “I’ll do anything I can to protect her. She’s only a child.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

Looking away from Ilsa’s back, you face Maria, who says, “The man with the belt was trying to keep Becca from crying.”

“Least I could do,” Ilsa murmurs before hissing in pain when you swipe an antibiotic wipe across her wound.

“It’s more than that,” you say. “I won’t lie, I’m not supposed to be here, so this is going to get worse before it gets better. Do either of you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Tijuana,” they answer together.

Your eyes widen at the information that they’re moving you across state lines, country borders, and right out of your jurisdiction. The tracker sewn into the seam of your underwear only works for a few miles, so you’re completely disconnected from your station and the people who could help. Worse, you realize as you fall back, is that you have been trafficked. You’re no longer an investigator. You’re a victim.

As the truck shakes while you head south, you remove the jacket tied around your waist and hold it to your chest as you think. It still smells like Tim’s cologne, and you breathe it in as if it will disappear at any moment. Racking your brain for an idea of what to do, you try to think like Tim and Nyla. Every thought you have of trying to stop these men ends with you dead and the women beside you living in fear in a place where they’ll likely never be found.

“Do you need anything?” you ask them.

They shake their heads, and Ilsa’s chin drops as if she’s asleep.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Maria whispers. “You’re the angel we prayed for.”

She closes her eyes as the match burns out, and you tip your head back to look at the dark ceiling above you. I’m not an angel. I just stood too close to the devil.

The truck door rolls open loudly before a blindingly bright light greets you.

“Bienvenidos a Mexico,” Rich greets. “Send the little one, we’ve got someone here who wants to meet our newest helper.”

“Take me instead,” you reply, moving toward your abductors. “I’m new, too.”

“Not exactly what I meant.”

You jump from the truck and move to stand mere inches from Rich. “You just shoved that girl in the back of a truck and drove her to another country, you’re going to have to take it easier with her. She doesn’t know what you’ve done yet.”

“She’ll have to learn,” he seethes. “And we don’t have much time for teaching.”

Leveling your gaze on his, you wait for him to give. Kol mumbles something behind him, and Rich says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hours later, your face feels tight from all the dried tears on it when you are shoved into a damp room lined with cots. Ilsa recites a story to Becca while Maria braids her hair, but they look up at you when the door slams and locks.

“Have you seen any other women?” you ask.

“Two more. They came in for a few minutes, then the ugly man came and took them back out,” Ilsa answers.

“They didn’t speak,” Maria adds quietly. “Do you think their spirits are gone?”

You tug the roots of your hair and answer, “For their sakes, I’m beginning to hope so.”

“Are you okay?” Becca whispers.

It’s the first time she’s spoken to you, the first you’ve heard of her voice, and you smile at her. “I’m okay, and you’re going to be okay, too.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s a bad place, and they’re going to try to let bad people do bad things to us, but I’m not going to let them,” you promise.

“You can’t,” Ilsa argues.

“I took an oath to serve and protect, and that didn’t end at the border. They’re not going to do anything to you as long as I can help it.”

“Did…” Maria begins.

“No,” you answer. “He.. No, I’m okay.”

“Knock, knock,” Kol calls obnoxiously. He sets food on the nearest cot and asks, “How’s the little princess?”

Ilsa says something in Russian as Maria moves to sit in front of Becca.

“What do you want, Kol?” you demand.

“It’s a question,” he snaps. “I want an answer.”

“You want to know how she is? She’d be better if you weren’t around.”

Kol looks over his shoulder, then demands, “Come with me.”

“No.”

“Come. With. Me. Or I’ll come in there and get you.”

You clench your jaw as you stand and follow him. The moment the soundproof door is closed, he shoves you against the concrete wall and presses his weight against your back.

“I don’t like people that talk back to me,” he seethes in your ear.

“And I don’t like people who traffic humans,” you argue, pushing back against him.

Kol raises one hand to your head, pulling it back enough to slam your nose into the wall. You can feel it break, but you’re out of tears, and he doesn’t deserve them anyway.

“Beat me, sell me all day everyday, do whatever you want, but I’m not letting you put one more finger on that little girl,” you say though the blood running over your lips.

“Sounds like a challenge!” Rich exclaims. He comes to your side and adds, “I love challenges.”

“Who are you working for?” you ask. “You two morons are barely smart enough to drive, so there’s no way you’re the masterminds.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“When someone smarter than you comes along and gets free, I want to make sure she knows who the police should be looking for.”

“They’ll never find the Vaquero.”

“Doubtful you could find him either,” you reply, attempting to kick free of Kol.

He slams his foot against the back of your ankle, and you buckle forward at the pain.

“You want to work more? I’ll get right on it,” he says before pushing you back into your prison.

In a heap on the floor, you barely manage to tell Maria to back away from you before you puke. Sitting up, you see that Becca is asleep. Ilsa watches you lean against the concrete wall, and you point to the bucket of clothes beside her. There isn’t much in it, but a bra at the bottom catches your attention. It’s wireless, of course, because these people are smart enough to avoid giving scared women anything that could be used as a weapon. You fold it so the cups are together, making it thicker, then place it between your teeth. It holds your tongue down and catches your scream as you use the sides of your palms to straighten your broken nose.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Maria chides as she looks for something to stop your bleeding.

“Hand me the jacket?” you ask.

She passes you Tim’s jacket, and you watch a tear fall onto it before you hold it against your face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into it.

“Will he come for you?” Ilsa inquires, walking toward you.

“I don’t think I left him enough clues,” you admit, though it’s muffled.

“You’re smart, I’m sure you did.”

Looking at Maria, you say, “If I get killed, don’t let it be for nothing.”

“We’ll protect each other,” she counters.

“No matter what,” Ilsa adds.

The following day, no one enters the room. There’s water in the corner and Becca snacks on the food from the night before, but nothing changes. Tim’s jacket still holds the scent of his cologne on the end of the sleeves, and you keep it beside you as you attempt to rest. It dries your tears and holds your blood, but it’s nothing like being near Tim. It’s a reminder that you can get home, and that’s all you need it to be.

“There’s a first aid kit,” Becca says, standing from the corner. “It looks new.”

You extend your hands, and she places the metal box in your hold. Opening it, you sigh at the sight.

“It is new,” you announce. “Ilsa, let me see your back again?”

She lifts her shirt, and you begin treating the stripe. “It looks better. Hopefully this will help more.”

“I can’t feel it,” she says.

“That’s not good,” you reply immediately.

“I should say, I choose not to. We have more important things.”

“Your health is important.”

“And yours isn’t?”

After a month of preventing Ilsa, Maria, and Becca from being removed from the room, you are exhausted. Rich has taken pleasure in coming to retrieve you every time, and when he opens the door for the eighth time in five days, you stumble as you stand.

“If you’re too tired,” he taunts.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “Get out.”

“We have guests coming tomorrow,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to have to get along with me, or they’ll show you a different kind of punishment.”

“It can’t get much worse.”

Rich walks toward you, and you notice a rope in his hand. “Trust me, it can. Now, let’s go.”

“What are you doing?” Ilsa demands.

“Leashing the dog,” he answers darkly. He steps behind you, his breath warm and too close to your skin. “Walk.”

You exit the room and decide not to fight back as he secures your wrists and up to your elbows with the rope. It’s uncomfortable and pulls your shoulders into a dangerous position, but talking too much will only feed his ego and endanger every woman in this bunker.

“Open your mouth,” he says as he walks before you. “Now.”

After you lick your lips, he pries your mouth open and pours something inside. He taps your neck, forcing you to swallow, and you feel your muscles weaken as he leads you toward the exit. You urge yourself to remember the route to reach the door where the sunlight shines beneath it, but each step is heavier than the last and requires concentration.

Rich uses your restraints to pull you to a stop. You tip back and can’t catch yourself with your hands, so you fall to your butt and groan. To stay upright, you cross your legs and wait.

“I said I wanted someone who could look the part of a cop,” someone with a familiar voice complains. “She can barely stand.”

“When the drug wears off, she’ll be fine,” Rich explains. “Did you bring it?”

“You induced myopathy to walk her to the door? What is she, a fighter?”

“She’s an annoyance. Remind her that we’re here alone with her friends. She’ll do whatever you want.”

You can hear the man's smile as he repeats, “Whatever I want.”

However, he doesn’t have to remind you of anything because you do what he asks. There’s a feeling in the air like something big is happening, and you want to be out of your cell for it. You can only hope that Ilsa, Becca, and Maria are safe while you’re gone, but believing they are makes it even more important to obey and keep them safe.

“Put this on,” the man – tall, older, and clearly not Mexican – demands as he tosses a small costume package to you.

You catch it, fully recovered from the drug’s effects, and look at the skimpy black fabric within. As you remove it from the package, you realize who the man is and why he sounded familiar in the bunker. Councilman Brek has been demanding in every interview he’s done, and it’s been rumored he has the city and government employees in Los Angeles in his wallet to stay in office so long.

“You’re Vaquero?” you guess.

“Maybe I am, which means you do precisely what I say. I don’t trust you, so you’re going to have to change here and now,” he instructs slowly.

Nodding, you begin to change as quickly as possible. The so-called police uniform is little more than a too-small vest and a tube-style skirt with a light badge hanging from it.

“Perfect,” the man applauds, blatantly looking at your body rather than your face. “Let me introduce you to the girls. Ladies!”

You follow him into another room where seven women are dressed in similar outfits, in different colors, and bearing agency badges.

“Tonight, you will be known as your badges. So, we’ve got DEA, NSA, CIA, FBI, LAPD, NYPD, ICE, and CSI, how needs some glasses.”

You look at each woman as he speaks and wonder where they’re from. You can't guess if they’re working for him legitimately or if they’re all like you. For all anyone knows, they could be undercover, too, though the pleased smile on CSI’s face after she receives glasses makes you think otherwise.

“Finish your shift without incident and we’ll talk. Anything happens, tell my assistant Mark and he’ll handle it. The rules are simple: You work, they pay. If someone tries to do anything without paying, Mark is your first contact. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply with the other women.

The clock on the wall says four a.m. when you consider calling for Brek's assistant Mark, but remember Rodriguez’s advice: keep your head down. If you can get through tonight without causing any problems, maybe Rich and Kol will trust you enough to give you more freedom. It’s unlikely, but lives are at stake, including your own.

“Come to papa, LAPD!”

You turn and smile at the short Latino man beckoning you closer. Extending your hand, you wait for him to pay you with one hand on your hip.

“I said come here,” he repeats.

Rubbing your fingers together, you remind him, “I’m supposed to receive payment first.”

He twists his head to crack his neck and then extends his arms. His hands grip your barely covered hips before he pulls you into his lap.

“Let go,” you demand under your breath, looking around for Mark and wishing it was Tim coming to help you.

If you were undercover in LA, Tim would have already had this guy off of you, and tears prick your eyes when you remember how long it has been since you saw him and worked with him.

“Stop fighting,” the man says.

His demand is punctuated by the telltale sound of a switchblade. NYPD slows as she walks behind you, and when the man shifts his hand to squeeze your thigh instead, she screams Mark’s name.

Before he reaches you, you press your hands against the man’s shoulders and shove yourself away from him. You realize then that the knife was closer than you thought. Mark hauls the man out of his chair and disappears. NYPD and DEA escort you back to the room where you got dressed and encourage you to sit.

“Is this yours?” DEA asks, raising Tim’s jacket.

“Yeah,” you answer.

She presses it against your bleeding inner thigh, and you dig your fingers into the chair beneath you.

“This needs stitches,” NYPD says. She looks around before whispering, “Are you working here?”

You shake your head in a small motion, and she chews her bottom lip.

“We have a sewing kit,” DEA whispers. “But I don’t know if that would work.”

“I do,” you interject. “Bring it to me?”

She hesitates but does as you ask. NYPD threads the needle after DEA sterilizes it over a nearby burning candle. You remove Tim’s jacket and put the end of the sleeve in your mouth to bite down on. Each stitch burns worse than the last, and your fight to stay conscious makes your hands shake.

NYPD takes the needle, tugs the jacket sleeve free, and says, “Breathe, LAPD.”

You mumble your name, and she smiles as she says, “I’m Jessica. I’ve been watching, so I can try to finish them if you want.”

“Please.”

“You’ll scar her!” DEA argues.

“It’s going to scar no matter what,” you say. “I’m not that good. Please just help me.”

NYPD nods as you let your eyes close momentarily.

Tim could have kept it from scarring you think just before Mark enters the room to escort you back to work.

Kol doesn’t see the wound when he arrives to take you back to the bunker. Not that you think he’d care, but you covered it just in case he’d make you stop taking the “jobs” intended for Becca, Maria, and Ilsa.

Lowering carefully onto your cot, you let the pain in again and acknowledge it with a groan.

“What happened?” Ilsa asks, rushing to your side.

“I need the first aid kit, please.”

Maria turns away to distract Becca when she sees your patched-together stitches, but Ilsa kneels beside you to help.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” she murmurs.

“It’s been a long month,” you correct her.

She chuckles wetly, and you smile as she wraps bandages around your thigh. The bloody jacket is clutched to your chest, and you once again wish that it was Tim holding you, and not you desperately gripping the idea of him.

“It’s been months without a word, Tim,” Nyla says. “Rodriguez has other cases, but that doesn’t mean he’s giving up on her.”

“He closed the case!” Tim yells. “It has been weeks since he looked at anything related to the traffickers, and suddenly it’s time? She’s still out there, Nyla!”

“I understand, Bradford, I do, but until we can pick up their trail again, there is nothing we can do.”

“So, you expect me to just go back to work while one of our own is being trafficked?”

“I expect you to do what you need to do to make Rodriguez think you’re not undermining him,” Nyla says quietly. “I’ve been looking too. We’re not going to let her disappear.”

“And if she’s already gone?”

“We find the people who took her and make them pay with everything they have left.”

“Everybody pack up and drink up,” Rich demands as he kicks the door open.

“Drink what?” Maria asks, leaning up to look at the clear glasses on his tray.

“You’re going home.”

“What?” you, Ilsa, and Maria exclaim together.

“The Vaquero bailed you out. The drink is a celebration.”

“We’re going home?” Becca asks Maria, gripping her hand tightly.

“Three of you.” Rich looks at you, and you nod. They're freedom is your hush money, and it will work... for now. You'll stay quiet about Councilman Brek being Vaquero if it gets these women home.

“No,” Ilsa says. “I’m not drinking that if she’s not going with us.”

“Yes, you are,” you tell her. “You’re going home because that was always the goal.”

“What about the other women?!” she exclaims.

“I’ll work to free them next.”

“You’d die before you did that,” Rich says. “It took you over five months to free these three. You think we don’t have replacements for them already on the way?”

“You got what you wanted, Rich,” you say. “Ladies, pack and drink. I’ll cheers with you.”

You wrap Tim’s jacket around your waist, tap your glass against theirs, drink, set the glass down, and fall into darkness.

“Where are the tracking records?” Angela asks.

“From the underwear tracker?” Nyla clarifies as she leans over Tim’s table.

“That’s where her tracker was?” Tim asks, furrowing his brows.

“I guess Rodriguez didn’t put them in the file,” Nyla says, frowning. “Or they’re digital and he couldn’t figure out control-P. Let me check.”

Tim looks at surveillance pictures of you as Nyla clicks through the laptop before her.

“Printer is full if you need to use it,” he murmurs.

“Thanks.”

Angela stands to retrieve the papers as Nyla lifts your undercover phone from the charger.

“Tim,” Angela calls, looking at the top page. “Did you get a text from her the day she was abducted?”

“No,” he answers, raising his head.

“She deleted it, but the metadata is still there.”

Nyla extends her hand and reads the information on the page before looking up at Tim. “It says it delivered.”

Tim takes his phone from his pocket and checks, but there are no messages from you. Angela checks the other undercover phone, but there are no messages there either.

“Where did it deliver, then?” Nyla wonders. “It says she sent it to ‘Landlord.’”

“Landlord?” Tim asks. “On the last day she was here?”

“Right.”

“Rodriguez changed our covers the morning before. He told me he let her know. Landlord texts went to Rodriguez.”

Nyla purses her lips before she asks, “Which city council member endorsed Rodriguez for chief?”

“Brek,” Angela answers. “It fueled the pay-off rumors.”

“There’s something else going on here,” Nyla says. “And Rodriguez knows about it.”

“I’ll call-“ Tim begins.

“We don’t know who we can trust,” Angela interrupts.

“Wade,” he finishes. He pauses and looks up rather than making the call.

“Call him,” Angela and Nyla say together.

You blink your eyes open, realize you don't recognize the room around you, and sit up quickly.

“I gave you a very thorough description,” Councilman Brek complains. “She looks nothing like what I asked for. If I’m paying for you to bring them up to LA, I expect to get what I pay for.”

“Sir, we don’t have anyone fitting that description,” Rich explains. “And you liked her before.”

“But this isn’t before, is it? She's cost me enough money without this screw up.”

“Excuse me?” you interrupt. “I- I’m from LA, and I know a lot of women willing to do anything for money. Maybe I can help you get what you want.”

You bite your tongue after you speak to keep your stomach from flipping. You’re offering to traffic someone else, and even though it’s a cover to get these men in custody, it still feels wrong.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable divulging that information to you,” Councilman Brek replies.

“Who is she gonna tell?” Kol points out. "She's been quiet about everything else."

Brek sighs, then says, “I want a dark woman with natural hair, shorter than me, relatively small, and mouthy.”

You manage to keep your eyes from widening at his precise desire and somewhat racist description. “Yeah, I know someone like that.”

“You do?” Brek and Kol ask together.

“I only know her first name,” you reply. “It’s Crystal. I know where she lives, like geographically, not the address.”

“I want Crystal,” Brek decides, turning toward Rich. “Take LAPD here to fetch Crystal and bring them both back.”

“Yes, sir,” Rich and Kol answer together.

You walk out to the car with them and slide into the passenger seat. They brought your clothes with you during the overnight transport back to LA. Now, Tim’s jacket hangs off one shoulder as you give Rich directions to an undercover residence. He parks, and you’re surprised when he and Kol unbuckle their seatbelts. Your hand moves to release yours, and Rich backhands you. His ring draws blood on your cheek.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you waltz up there, did you?” Rich asks.

“Just surprised you wear seatbelts,” you answer meekly.

He locks the doors behind him, trapping you in the car, and you watch as they walk to the door you pointed out and ask for Crystal. A nearby Metro team that was likely on standby ambushes them nearly immediately after hearing Detective Harper's previous undercover name. Without time to react, they’re cuffed and placed in patrol cars before they even realize what’s happening.

When more officers arrive to keep up appearances, you know you must get out of here. With Tim’s jacket protecting your skin, you break the passenger side window, climb out, and run through the night.

When you finally reach the door you’ve dreamed of walking through for nearly half a year, it is dark, and the city is as asleep as it gets. You haven’t had a home in too long, and thinking of going to the station to answer questions about every little thing you saw and did makes you nauseous. So, you linger outside the one place you can think to go. Raising your hand, you grip the sleeve in your fist and knock.

The door opens harshly as if the person is grumpy from being woken or unimpressed by such a late visit. You forget to breathe when you see the man at the door and the first breath you force yourself to take causes a tear to roll over your cheek. Tim steps toward you, his shoulders dropping as his eyes widen and his gaze softens. He sees the blood on your cheek but doesn’t try to touch you.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit quietly.

Tim nods and pushes the door open wider for you. With the sleeves of his old jacket grasped between your hands, you step into his home and wait.

“I… What do you need?” he asks.

You look down, unsure about where to start answering that question. “A shower would be nice,” you reply.

Tim leads you through his house and into his bedroom. He tells you where all of his clothes are, where the fresh towels are under the sink, and invites you to use whatever you want.

“I’ll be close, if you need anything,” he says before closing the door behind him. “You can lock the door,” he adds through the wood.

You lay your hand on the doorknob, then let your fingers slip off without locking it. Navigating carefully and quietly through Tim's room, you take a few pieces of his clothing into the bathroom. The warm shower feels good, but you hate that you can’t hear well over the falling water, so you cut your time in the cleansing stream short. Dressed in Tim’s clothes, you walk through his bedroom and open the door. Tim stands from his position on the floor, where he’d been waiting down the hall in case you called for him.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” he says. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“Can I just…” You trail off and gesture weakly in an around motion.

“Yeah, of course,” Tim answers. “I’ll be on the couch.”

He listens as you pace through his hallway and into his bedroom. You’re not the woman he knew before, and he understands that, but his worry about you and concerns about what you’ve been through threaten to overwhelm him.

Ten minutes later, you enter the living room and sit on the other end of the couch. You pinch Tim’s sweatpants between your fingers and avoid looking at him, but you’ve never been happier to be in his presence, to be sitting beside him.

“I’m here,” Tim says. “I don’t want to push anything on you, but whatever you need, whatever I can do – or not do – to help you, I am here.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking up to see him. “I missed you.”

“You had my jacket.” Tim’s eyes drop momentarily like he’s trying to place what else is different about you.

“I couldn’t look in the mirror,” you confide. “Is my nose crooked? Or crookeder than before?”

Tim hesitates before he answers. Not because your nose is crooked and he’s preparing to lie, but because he’s wondering what happened to your nose and who caused it.

“It looks perfect,” he says. “Like before.”

You place your hand gently over your nose and say, “Kol broke it.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers.

You drop your hand and nod at him. Moving closer, you close some of the distance between you. “I want to feel like me again.”

“You will,” he promises. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I might’ve used all that strength.”

“Then you’ll use ours. Everyone around you is ready to help you.”

“Until they find out what I did and have to hear my word against his,” you murmur.

Tim wants to know more about what that means, but your head drops against his shoulder, and suddenly, you are the only thing in the world that matters.

“How’d it go?” Tim asks as you exit the locker room a week later.

“Okay,” you answer carefully. “I don’t think the DA completely believed me about Councilman Brek, but everyone else in the room did. Hopefully Rich and Kol are cowardly enough to take a plea deal and testify against him.”

Someone calls your name as you enter the station’s lobby with Tim.

“Ilsa?!” you exclaim, rushing to hug her. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“My father hired a PI after my return, and the man found more women. We are here to talk to the detective.”

“Which detective?” you inquire, hoping it isn’t Rodriguez.

“That would be me,” Nyla says. “Major crimes was stretched a little thin, and when I saw your name in Ms. Alekseev’s report, Lopez and I jumped on it.”

“Thank you. Ilsa, here’s my number,” you say, handing her a card.

She hugs you again and turns around just before she reaches the door. “Thank you for saving our lives. Maria and Becca went to the embassy when we returned. They’re with their family.”

Nyla mouths safehouse and you nod in understanding.

“You’re brave, Ilsa. Thanks for keeping me safe.”

“I don’t think one bandage makes us even.”

“We’re survivors, that makes us even.”

She waves and follows Nyla into the station as you and Tim exit. He leads you to his truck and opens the passenger door for you, repeating one bandage over and over in his mind. Realistically, he knew you had to have received injuries, but other than the broken nose, he doesn’t know exactly what you went through. Only that Councilman Brek was involved.

“Want me to order dinner?” you ask as Tim backs out of the parking space.

“Whatever you want,” he answers, meaning it in more ways than dinner.

An hour after you wish Tim goodnight and retreat to his extra bedroom, you knock on his partially open door. He invites you in, and you don’t hesitate to enter and tuck one leg under you as you sit on his bed.

“Can we talk?” you ask.

“Of course,” he answers, turning to focus completely on you.

“First, thank you for letting me stay here. I’m working on finding a new place, but I really didn’t want to be alone.” Tim nods, so you continue, “The day they took me, I texted who I thought was you, as you know, but when they put me in the truck, there were three women inside.”

“Ilsa?” Tim guesses.

“Yeah, and she had just been injured. And then Becca and Maria. Becca- She’s 15, Tim. I couldn’t leave them in there, defenseless.”

“Wait,” Tim murmurs, laying his hand over yours. “No one blames you for getting trapped. You were abducted, that’s not something anyone is going to be mad about.”

“I probably could’ve fought and gotten out. I couldn’t leave them.” Tim nods, so you tell him about your first few nights in Mexico, about the bunker and Rich and Kol, and about how you kept Becca as far from everything as possible.

“And Brek bought their freedom to keep me quiet about him being Vaquero,” you finish, leaving out the worst of your experiences. “I think about it a lot, but the worst memories come when I’m trying to sleep.”

“I get it,” Tim assures you. “I’ve got a past that plagues me too. It gets better, and you’re not alone.”

“I feel safe with you,” you admit, dropping your eyes to where Tim’s hand rests on yours. “When I convinced them to let me lead them to Crystal, I was scared I’d never find who I was before.”

“And now?”

“I know I can,” you say. “With you.”

“Can I ask something?” Tim requests. “You can say no, and you don’t have to answer.”

“Of course.”

“There was dried blood on your clothes when you showed up. Was it all yours?”

You nod and unconsciously shift closer to Tim.

“Some of it was from the broken nose. Tim, your jacket kept me alive. It held a lot of blood and tears, but it reminded me of home, of you, and it helped me fight when I thought I had nothing left.”

Tim swallows, and his eyes drop. You follow his gaze, then lay your hands over the jagged scar on your thigh.

“You’re safe,” you repeat. “I can be me again with you. And I can never thank you enough for that.”

Tim slowly raises his hand to your face to catch the escaping tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch, and Tim promises to stay close.

“Brek has some illegal strip club or bar, I don’t know exactly what it is, down there,” you begin. “I was there for a night, dressed – which is a generous term for the uniform – like a cop, and some guy didn’t like the order of how things happened.”

“You’re okay,” Tim promises.

You lean into him, resting against his chest as he shifts his arms to hold you. With your shoulder tucked beneath his, your face on his chest, and your legs pulled over his, Tim holds you like he never wants to let you go. You’re a cop and are far from naïve about the dangers and the evil of the world, but right here, you feel completely safe and more at home than anywhere else. Tim’s finger drags lightly over the scar as he kisses your forehead.

“We’re going to get him, and get all of those women home,” you say. “Nyla told me that you didn’t give up on me, even when Rodriguez tried to sweep everything.”

“Of course not. I knew you’d be fighting even harder to get home.”

After a moment, Tim asks, “Did you get a tetanus shot?”

You laugh. For the first time since returning home, you truly, joyfully laugh. “Yes, I did,” you answer with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me through the scars.”

Tim smiles, gently tracing your cheekbone and jaw, and silently promises to make every single person involved pay for what they did. He'll start with the man who assaulted you with a knife and work down the list.

“Tim,” you say. It draws his attention back to this moment. “Do things have to go back to exactly how they were before?”

Tim looks down your body, then raises his brows. Clearly, your position says no, but you want confirmation from Tim that you’re more than you were before.

“Can I show you?” he asks.

“I’d love that.”

Tim flattens his palm against your cheek and drops his chin to kiss you. It’s slow, and though his hands are on you, it’s different than before. You’re not scared of touch, you realize, leaning into his hands. Tim Bradford is home, he’s safe, and you love him. Despite the scars, the trauma, and the unforgettable horrors you’ve seen and experienced, he loves you too.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispers against your lips.

His hand drops to your leg once more, and when he doesn’t hesitate to brush it over your scar, you smile and say, “Maybe repeat it? Make sure I got everything?”

Smiling, Tim says, “If anything ever feels wrong, or brings up something you don’t like, promise to tell me?”

You offer your pinky to promise, and Tim takes your wrist gently in his hand. The scars circling your wrists and forearms have lightened, but the deep rope burn carved into them will never disappear entirely. After Tim kisses a darker scar, he hooks his pinky in yours.

First Day to Live

After Last Day to Live

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!SWAT!reader

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

Warnings/Word Count: 1.1k+ words of fluff

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

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

Tim smiles and repeats, “From?”

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

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

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

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

“Remember my promise?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“What are we doing?” you ask. 

“Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

“Can you do me a favor?” Tim asks. 

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

“Sure,” you answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?” Tim asks. 

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

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

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

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

“You… I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

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

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

“I try. You made it pretty easy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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