Still Find You
Still Find You
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader
Summary: You're abducted from your coffee shop and Tim has to trust his instincts to find you before it's too late.
Warnings: abduction, torture (not graphic), violence and threats of violence, angst, mention of drug distribution and overdose, fluff and comfort
Word Count: 3.6k+ words
A/N: I ended this with lines from Still Find You by Granger Smith because it fit (and I have no control when I write).
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
Soft jazz fills the coffee shop as you lock the door one minute after closing. You wave at the young woman walking down the sidewalk who just left after finishing her thesis in your shop.
She brought you a small gift with a note and said, “I couldn’t have finished this without you and your café.”
You haven’t opened the gift yet, but you smile because you made a difference in someone’s life. Your coffee shop resulted from chasing your dreams and hard work, and you want people to feel both comfortable and inspired when they come in. Today, you accomplished that.
After you turn off the lights in the front seating area, you pull your phone from your apron pocket and change the music playing through the speakers behind the counter to something more upbeat. You sing along with the first song as you wipe down the counter and dismantle the coffee machines to make tomorrow easier.
A loud sound makes you flinch as you prepare to enter the walk-in freezer. Turning quickly, you expect to see someone knocking on the door or a bird flying away from the glass. But there’s nothing to see. Shaking your head, you continue your nightly closing checklist and think about what you should make for dinner.
Fifteen minutes later, your shop is clean and prepped for the morning, and your apron hangs on its dedicated hook. You pull your bag over your shoulder, slide your phone into your pocket, and open the back door.
Before you step out into the small parking area you share with a few nearby business owners, a hand wraps cruelly around your upper arm. Whoever it is pulls you harshly away from your car and slams you against the brick wall behind you.
“Here,” you say, offering your bag. “That’s all I have.”
You glance up and see that it’s undoubtedly a man, large, tall, and terrifying. He’s wearing a mask, but you can hear his deep and rough voice clearly when he chuckles. He knocks your arms down, and your bag falls to the cement with a thud. The man says your full name, and you can’t stop from flinching away from him.
“That was easy,” he murmurs. “Where’s the bag?”
You shake your head, afraid but honest.
“Where is the bag?” he repeats, slow and low as he steps closer to you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply.
“That’s a shame.”
He raises his right hand and signals to someone or something. You take the opportunity while he’s distracted to slip your phone from your pocket. Holding it behind your back, you take a screenshot, hoping to capture the time. You then attempt to unlock it without looking and navigate to what you hope is the camera. Tilting the phone in several directions, you tap the screen and don’t think about what will happen if you’re not getting information to pass along to the police.
A blue van approaches quickly and then stops behind your car. The man wraps his hand around your arm again, and you drop your phone to bring your other hand up to fight. You know how to defend yourself, but he’s bigger than you, you were ambushed, and you’re outnumbered. He directs you past your car, and you drop the one belonging you don’t want to lose onto the hood. As you’re pushed into the backseat and thrown back against the seat when the van begins moving again, you hope that someone finds your phone and does the right thing. If you took any pictures, they might save your life.
Tim stretches his neck to the side after he parks in his driveway. He looks around while he turns the ignition off and frowns. Pulling his phone from the center console, he presses your contact. It goes to voicemail, and he has no missed calls or messages to explain your absence. You’ve been off work for nearly an hour, and even if you stayed to clean up – because you’re too nice to your employees and let them leave early, he thinks – you should still be here by now.
Tim opens his tracking app and sees that the blue dot showing your phone’s location is steady at your shop. He tenses his jaw and restarts his truck. As he pulls back onto the road, he calls your shop, but it just rings and rings. Tim clenches his jaw, throws his phone into the passenger seat, and speeds up. He thinks something is wrong, and if it’s not, he’s going to start an argument because you know better than to worry him like this or forget your phone. You know better. And that’s why Tim reaches for his phone to call dispatch and find out if you called 911 for any reason.
Tim leaves his truck running after he parks, blocking your car in. You’re not in the car, and the lights are off in your coffee shop. He walks to the back door, ready to pound on it and hope you open it. He stops on the sidewalk when he sees something out of place. Your phone case is something he’s familiar with, and he lowers to reach for it. There’s a new crack down the middle of the screen, and the edge of your case has been scuffed. This wasn’t simply dropped.
Tim holds your phone in his left hand as he calls Angela. He gives her the facts of what he knows, letting her come to her own conclusions. She says she and Nyla will be at your shop right away, and Tim stands in place after the call disconnects. As he looks around, he doesn’t see anything else worth noting.
He leans against the brick wall, keenly aware of every breeze which moves around him. He unlocks your phone and opens the messages. No half-typed or emergency notes. No phone calls or a dialed number. Whatever happened, you didn’t have time to react in a typical way. Tim returns to the home screen and then taps the photos app. You took a picture of Kojo laying on Tim yesterday, but nearly a dozen new photos are displayed beneath it. Not the kind of photos you would take, Tim realizes as he stands straighter.
There’s a screenshot of your lock screen taken 45 minutes ago, a blurry image of the back of your legs and a pair of boots in front of you, a seconds-long video that Tim can’t bring himself to play yet, and a picture of a gloved hand wrapped around your arm. Tim locks your phone again and exhales deeply, attempting to remain calm. Based on those images, he’s convinced that his worst fear is coming true. You’ve been abducted. He sees Angela’s unmarked car pull in and steps off the sidewalk to meet her and walk her through his movements. As he passes your car, something glints in the light, and he steps back.
“Tim,” Angela says as she exits her car after parking behind Tim’s truck. “Tell me everything.”
Tim doesn’t reply as he lifts something off your car. Your engagement ring wouldn’t just fall off; you left it.
“Tim,” Angela repeats when she sees the ring and your phone. “What happened?”
Tim clears his throat before explaining that you weren’t home, so he called and came here. He passes her your unlocked phone and mentions that he couldn’t watch the video. And the ring.
“What’s her name?” Nyla asks.
Tim answers, realizing that Nyla probably doesn’t know who you are. “My wife.”
Her eyes widen as she looks at Angela. They meet at the back of your car to watch the video, and Tim stares at your ring lying on his palm instead of around your finger.
“We need to find her,” he says, looking up. “Now.”
“Tim, I know you’re worried,” Nyla begins.
“Of course I am,” he replies. “But I’m also angry, and you can use that.”
“We’re not going to ask you to sit this out,” Angela assures him. “She’s smart, and if anyone can pick up the clues she’ll leave, it’s you.”
“I know it’s probably a stupid question, but any idea who would do this?” Nyla asks.
“She doesn’t have any enemies,” Tim answers. “But this wasn’t random.”
“No,” Angela agrees. “She got the vehicle on camera. Unfortunately, we can only make out that it’s a blue minivan.”
“Easy to find in LA,” Tim grumbles.
“Right. I’ll get the phone to cyber, see what they can find.”
Tim walks down the length of your car and looks to his right. “If they went east, I know where she’d try to leave the next clue.”
Nyla takes your phone and gets in Angela’s car to return to the station while Angela climbs into Tim’s passenger seat.
“Are you prepared to deal with this if she didn’t leave any more clues?” she asks softly.
“I’m ready to finish this,” Tim answers. “Whatever it takes.”
Angela nods as he turns out of the parking lot and heads east. They both know that targeted abductions rarely end well, but neither of them says it aloud. You’re smart, but that doesn’t make you infallible. Or indestructible.
You cough before you spit blood from your mouth. Everything hurts, and you have no idea where you are. After you managed to leave Tim another clue in a place he’d think to go – if he’s realized that he needs to look yet – the men who took you decided it would be better for you to not know where you were going. They blindfolded you, covered your mouth, and drove in silence. You tried to keep track of the turns and the time, but they kept you from doing that. The larger man, the one who pinned you to the wall, moved you into the floor of the van and held something that felt suspiciously like a gun against your sternum. It moved every time the driver turned, and you were too distracted to notice which way your body rolled.
“I don’t…” you pant, “know what bag.”
He swings his fist in an arch, holding your shoulder as he punches beneath your diaphragm. Your breath leaves in a painful rush, and you drop to the wooden floor beneath you when he removes his hands from you.
“We’ve got all night,” he says. “You don’t. Start talking, and no more of the don’t know act.”
“Whatever you’re looking for, I am not the person you need to find it.”
“No,” he agrees, bending at his waist to look into your eyes. “You’re the next best thing.”
You take the opportunity to spit into his exposed eyes, and he stumbles back as he wipes at his face. Smiling, you ignore the pain for a moment.
“You don’t know anything about me,” you taunt.
“I don’t have to,” he replies. “I just have to wait until you’re ready to tell me.”
He leaves you alone in the dilapidated bedroom, and you wrap your arms around your stomach and push yourself to stand. The window is barred and it’s dark out, but you can see plenty of lights beneath you. You’re somewhere in the hills, but you might be here forever without a way to get that information to Tim.
“That wasn’t very nice,” the other man says, kicking the door closed behind him.
A rope rests over his shoulder, and he cracks his knuckles as he stalks toward you like a predator. He’s been quiet until now, just the driver, but as he nears you, you begin to think he’s the one you should have been scared of all along.
“Getting anything?” Wade asks, entering the observation area.
“No,” Tim answers.
“She left you clues,” Wade points out. “We’ll find her.”
“There’s not enough to go on!” Tim exclaims, letting his emotions come out in front of someone he trusts. “Her ring and a bracelet left in a restaurant parking lot isn’t going to save her life.”
“Then keep looking,” Wade encourages. “Bradford, you and I both know a trail doesn’t go cold this quick. Something will come up.”
“She said something about a bag,” the man sitting across the table from Angela says. “Then the big guy led her back to the van.”
“A bag?” Angela repeats. “Do you remember what exactly she said?”
“Something about not having the bag, and not knowing where it went.”
“That mean anything to you?” Wade asks.
Tim wracks his brain, thinking of every bag he’s seen, confiscated, or searched over the past weeks. He shakes his head and then remembers something. Not a bag, but a man looking for a bag.
“Aaron stopped a car on Pico,” he tells Wade. “There was a backpack sitting on the top of it. Aaron offered it to the guy, and he refused to take it; insisted it wasn’t his.”
“Right,” Wade agrees, snapping as the memory resurfaces. “It was searched when he brought it in. There was drug residue all over it – all over it. Not enough to charge someone probably, but it could’ve been indicative of possession with intent.”
“I didn’t think about then,” Tim mumbles.
“Think about what?” Angela inquires as she returns. “He didn’t know much, but he did call 911 because he thought the woman was in trouble. Dispatch rerouted him to the Sheriff’s department and they can’t even take themselves seriously, so it’s still showing as active and waiting for response.”
“The same morning Aaron found that bag, Chen and I were trailing one of Metro’s CIs to a meeting and there was a guy looking frantically in a parking lot,” Tim explains. “A parking lot just off Pico. He was looking on top of cars and crawling around on the ground. Chen asked him if he needed help, and he said he was looking for his cat.”
“Get a name? Description?”
“Name, no, but Chen had her body cam on.”
Wade leads them to his office and finds the footage from the encounter. The man captured was large, had a scar across his chin, and looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about a cat.
“Rick Wendell,” Angela says. She shows his most recent mugshot – when he first got the scar on his chin – and swipes through his record. “He’s got two houses. One of them is in the hills.”
“How’d a career criminal afford that?” Wade wonders.
“Bought it in a foreclosure for less than 300 thousand,” she reads. “It’s secluded, falling apart, but he’s up to date on the payments.”
“Good place to take someone if you want privacy.”
“I found out guy,” Nyla announces, rushing into the office.
“So did we,” Angela says, showing her the mugshot.
Nyla’s brows pinch before she replies, “He wasn’t the driver.”
“We have reason to believe they’re at Wendell’s house,” Tim interjected. “What’s the driver have to do with it?”
Nyla shows another mugshot, and Tim feels like he’ll never breathe again.
“Ankou,” Tim says.
“AKA Peter Newman, his given name,” Nyla adds. “Wanted by every three-letter agency and just about everyone on Interpol’s roster.”
“What’s he got against you, Bradford?” Wade inquires.
“I got him extradited on a drug charge. He watched two young girls OD on over-potent heroin, but possession was all I could get him on. While he was overseas, we raided every drug stash we could find. He got out of prison after a few months and came back to nothing but more warrants.”
“Did you happen to take a bag?” Angela asks.
“All but one,” he says. “We could never find the rest of his signature heroin.”
“Which is likely what Aaron stumbled on,” Nyla deduces. “And he’s targeting you rather than Aaron because it’s your fault he had to move what was left.”
“And now he’s trying to get information from my wife,” Tim snaps. “So why are we still standing here?”
“Because we can’t waltz into his house without a plan,” Angela replies. “I have to ask… Does she know about Ankou, or the drugs?”
“No.”
“Really? Not even a mention?” Nyla asks.
“She doesn’t know,” Tim insists roughly. “I keep her away from this. Look where it got her.”
“I hate to bring this up,” Wade begins. “But the bag has been missing for nearly a week. Why now?”
“He’s got a meet,” Angela realizes.
“And if he doesn’t have the drugs, he’ll offer something else,” Tim says. “Or someone.”
“Tim,” Wade says. When he finally has his attention, he asks, “What do we do?”
“You’re not going to agree with what my instincts are telling me to do.”
“If it were Luna, I’d do whatever I had to. You wife trusts you, now trust yourself. Walk us through it.”
Tim glances at the map on Angela’s phone. “He won’t expect us to come down the hill.”
The sun rises over LA, sending scattered light through the dirty window behind you. Your chest rises and falls slowly, every breath painful and shallow. Everything hurts, but you hold the splintered floorboard you pried up between your bloody hands, ready to fight when one of your abductors returns.
A hinge squeals downstairs, and you grip the wood tighter. You can’t hear footsteps, but you know someone is coming. When a gunshot echoes through the house, you push yourself against the wall and wait, letting your eyes close as you listen.
Tim doesn’t hesitate to fire when Wendell comes toward him with a sawed-off shotgun. He keeps his gun up as he walks to Wendell’s side and squats. Wendell doesn’t have a pulse, but Tim notices there is plenty of blood on him. His gloves are worn and stained, and some of the blood coating the outside of the fabric is fresh.
“She’s here,” Tim whispers over his shoulder.
Nyla taps Tim’s shoulder as she and Wade go left. Tim and Angela go right and soon come to a narrow staircase.
Ankou – the henchman of death – is in the house, and Tim must find him before he returns to you. Ankou is an omen of death and, in France, he is death personified as a skeleton with a scythe. This Ankou, however, is just a criminal who got away with too much and got too cocky about it.
Tim has taken down his fair share of monsters and a faux Grim Reaper doesn’t scare him. Especially when Peter Newman is holding his wife hostage.
Stepping over a loose step, Tim nears the top of the staircase. Three closed doors and a dead-end hall greet him. One of the doors has runes drawn on it, and Tim’s instincts tell him it’s a trap.
Angela gestures toward it, and Tim shakes his head. He walks to the door farthest from the steps and lays his hand on the doorknob. Angela covers him as he pushes it open, and Tim doesn’t take a step in before he wraps his hand around someone’s neck and flips them onto the floor.
You drop the broken weapon and let your tears fall as Tim walks into the bedroom, holstering his gun as he nears you. Angela handcuffs your attacker, groaning on the floor after Tim took him down.
“I got you,” Tim murmurs, visually inspecting every mark on you.
“How-” You hiccup as you reach for him, but once your hand is in his, you ask, “How did you find me?”
“I trusted my instincts,” he answers softly.
You nod, leaning toward him. Tim cups your chin in his other hand as you reply, “Thank God you have good instincts.”
“You left me clues,” he points out.
“Not enough.”
Tim shakes his head, then lifts you carefully into his arms to get you out of the house. The ambulance is waiting outside when he carries you out into the sunlight, and you cling to him as he lowers you onto the gurney.
“You must have really good instincts,” you say.
Tim takes your hand, his jaw tightening when he sees the blood and dirt surrounding your nails. You fought, and you endured torture and pain, yet you’re thanking Tim for coming as if he rescued you.
“About one thing, at least,” he replies as he climbs into the ambulance beside you.
“You look so good!” Angela exclaims, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you enter Tim’s house.
“Thank you,” you reply, laughing. “I think the bandages and the stitches bring out my eyes.”
“If you ever decide to switch careers, the LAPD could use another strong woman,” Nyla adds.
“Absolutely not,” Tim and Wade answer together.
Your brows lift as you look at Wade, and he explains, “I’m not dealing with Bradford like that ever again. Stay safe, all right? That’s an order.”
“Thank you for everything,” you tell them. “When I’m actually looking and feeling good again, you’re all invited to dinner.”
“We’ll be here,” Angela promises. “Call us if you need anything. There’s food in the fridge, more in the freezer, and more gift cards and baskets than I can count all over your dining room.”
You nod, give her and Nyla a hug, and then wave as they leave. Wade is the last to go, giving you another hug and promising to check in often. Once you’re alone, you turn to Tim.
“Did you find a gift bag in the stuff I dropped outside the coffee shop?” you ask.
“Yeah, it’s on the bed,” he answers. “Do you want it now?”
“It can wait,” you reply. “It’s special, so I wanted to make sure it was okay.”
“Not the only special thing that needs to be okay,” he murmurs.
“I’m okay,” you promise, taking Tim’s hand. “Because you found me. And you’ll find me every time.”
Tim nods, running his finger over the silicone wedding ring on your swollen finger. His instincts are good; that’s why he’s such a good cop, but when it comes to you, his instincts are even better. You could be a raindrop in a desert or a snowflake in a blizzard, and Tim Bradford would still find you.
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)
Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4
Spike x Giles!reader
Part one of four! Be kind please💖
Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.
You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.
It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.
You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.
You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.
You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.
You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.
You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.
“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.
“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”
“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.
You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.
“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.
You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”
“I like to think I’m not that predictable”
“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”
“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.
“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.
“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”
You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.
“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.
“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”
“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.
You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.
She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.
Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.
A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.
You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?
You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.
You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.
Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.
But he wouldn’t give anything away.
By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.
You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.
“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”
“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.
“You really are a bloody-”
“A what? Go on, say it!”
“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.
“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.
He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.
“I suggest you leave”
“What-?”
“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.
“You can’t mean that!”
“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”
“Where am I supposed to go?!”
“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.
You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.
You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.
You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.
You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.
“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”
You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.
You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.
“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.
“Why are you being nice?”
“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”
“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”
“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.
You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.
Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?
hiii, could you write a Tim Bradford X Grey!reader? She is sergeant grey’s daughter but adopted, so everyone can imagine themselves as they want 💕!
and they have to sneak around because she is “off limits”, also maybe younger than him??
and one day, while they are at her house and they are doing it (idk if you write smut, if you don’t you don’t have to go into details ofc). Wade goes at her house because she was not answering her phone and finds them while she is literally on top of him ??
Not just any man
Tim Bradford x Grey!reader
Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni!, smut, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), language, fluff, secret relationship, reader is Grey's adoptive daughter
Word count: 1.722
Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! Yes, I do write smut. I hope this fits your expectations! I really appreciate the idea with the reader being adopted, so everyone can imagine the reader as they like!
Enjoy!
There was a lot you had Wade Grey to thank for.
Catching you with your boyfriend wasn't one of those things, though. Especially when your boyfriend was one of his officers and he was older than you.
You were in so much trouble.
It had all began when you met Tim at a charity event hosted at the police station (not the best place for an event like this, as your father later would always like to mention).
It had instantly clicked.
The thrill of doing this behind everyone's back was what excited you the most the first few months - that was, until Tim confessed his feelings to you.
You were deeply in love with each other, and no one would be able to separate you - not even your father, even when he decided to fire Tim, if he ever found out.
When you were a baby, barely a few months old, Wade had adopted you.
Your parents died a few days prior, losing everything, including their lives, when a drug deal went horribly wrong.
You didn't know much about them, but you didn't care. The Grey's were your family, not them.
Family didn't end in blood.
You were a little older than their biological daughter, but you were still your fathers little girl.
Which meant you were off limits - to everyone, including Tim. Not that it would have stopped you, though.
You had to sneak around of course, but someday your parents eventually had to find out - especially if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Tim.
It just wasn't supposed to be that day, especially not like this.
You and Tim had been busy that day, you both had a day off and had been cooking together, went shopping (yes, you did that together, when your parents weren't near), and watched movies.
All that time you didn't look at your phone, though - missing several calls from your father.
Now, you were very busy with Tim, as he placed kisses down your neck, making you shiver in delight.
Your naked body's pressed together, his fingers brushing over the curves of your breasts, wandering further down.
Your fingers touched him wherever they reached - his muscular chest, his back and his arms, brushing through his short hair as his fingers pleasured you.
His lips found yours, muffling a moan, as his fingers went in and out of your tight pussy, his palm brushing your clit in the process, sending shivers up your body.
You loved every second of it.
You loved the way he always took care of you, the way he took his sweet time.
The knot in your stomach tightened, as he quickened the pace of his fingers. Gasping his name your fingers dug into his shoulders, his lips ghosting over your neck, as his thumb drew figure eights on your clit.
With a few last strokes you came, moaning his name, pure bliss pulsing through you, blinding you momentarily. You rode out your high on his fingers, before he removed them, smirking down at you as you gasped for air.
He was breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes that shined like the stars at night, full of love. His face, his lips and his hair - he was perfect the way he was.
And he was all yours.
His lips found yours again and he stroked himself, before he aligned his dick with your entrance.
Slowly, he inched forward, stretching you out in just the right way, the initial pain quickly fading into a feeling that was so much better.
When he was fully settled, he started to move, not giving you much time to adjust.
A throaty moan passed your lips, as his hands gripped your hips to steady himself. You fell into a steady rhythm, the familiar knot in your belly already forming again.
"Fuck." he breathed, one of his hands finding your breast, pinching your nipple. Moaning loudly your legs wrapped around his middle, taking him even deeper.
He thrust into you vigorously, your moans mixing together. But you wanted a change in position.
Pushing him back you sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion. You pushed him onto his back, causing him to chuckle knowingly, as he realized what you were doing.
Smirking, you straddled him, not wasting any time to sink down on him again. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, steadying you.
“Oh fuck…” His moan was like music to your ears, raw and unfiltered, as you started to move, up and down and up and down.
Skin slapped on skin, as he gripped your ass, helping you in your movement, when he suddenly stiffened, pulling you into his arms to cover you up.
"Tim wha-" you wanted to ask what happened, when you heard it.
"You better be kidding me!"
Flinching, your head snapped in the direction of your father's voice, body pressed against Tim, as your eyes widened.
"What the hell?" you yelled, your father's back turned towards you, one hand on his pistol.
"What the fuck?" Tim cut in. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"What the hell am I doing here?" your father bellowed, as you climbed off Tim, frantically searching for your clothes. "What the hell am I doing in my daughter's house? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
He shouted - never a good sign.
Tim searched for the right words, not sure how to explain, as you threw his shirt at him.
When you were both fully clothed your father had already left the bedroom, pacing in your living room.
Walking towards him you tried to come up with an explanation. It would have been useless to lie, so you decided to confront him with the truth.
"We're together." you spoke, swallowing. Fast and painless - just rip the bandaid off in one move.
Your gaze fixed on your father who so suddenly stopped, you thought time had paused for a second.
"You are what?" he yelled, anger clear as day on his face, a vein on his neck popping out. Tim stood somewhere behind you, not daring to say anything.
After all he was still his boss.
"We. Are. Together." you repeated word after word. "We are in a relationship. We love each other."
Your father's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, as he stared at you, mouth agape.
How we're you to explain, if he suddenly had a heart attack?
"You of all people!" he spoke angrily, pointing at Tim and you stood in front of him, blocking his way as your father took a step closer. Giving him a pointed look, he fell silent.
"Dad, I'm not thirteen anymore!" you tried to reason, shaking your head at him. "Im twenty-six! You don't have to protect me from men - and you definitely don't have the right to tell me who I date and who I don't!"
Blinking rapidly he tried to process your words.
"But-" he started, irritation clear on his face. "Y/N, you're my daughter! I told them you're off limits!"
Furrowing your brows you looked at him in disbelieve. "You did what?" you almost shouted. "God, you're so embarrassing!" His eyes were wide. "I am embarrassing? Seeing my daughter naked with a man - that is embarrassing!"
Your cheeks flushed, not wanting to be reminded of that, as you looked away.
Sighing he tried to find the right words, only making unintelligible sounds, though. "I can decide on my own who I want to be with, dad." you explained, brushing away a lose strand of hair.
"But-" he tried again, brows furrowed in sadness, and your heart grew heavy. "You're my daughter, my little girl! I can't just hand you off to any random guy!"
"What?" Tim interrupted, stepping forward. Rolling his eyes your father shook his head, fully knowing he could trust Tim Bradford.
If anyone, it was him.
It grew quiet, as you bit your lip, nervousness washing over you in waves. Would he fire Tim? Destroy his entire career just because he loved his daughter?
He sighed heavily, wiping over his face with his hand.
"Look, you didn't answer your phone all day so I got worried - and then I find you with him!" he explained, briefly pointing at Tim, who grabbed your hand, not letting go even as your father's jaw clenched at the sight.
"I'm not ready to hand you off just yet."
Closing your eyes for a moment you took a deep breath. "Sarge, I love your daughter and I want to be with her." Tim started, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
It would all be good.
"I'm not willing to give her up, just because you can't let go."
Your father's brows rose at the bluntness of his words, but he kept quiet, chewing on his cheek as he thought.
"What if you break her heart?" he wanted to know after a while, tilting his head. "Won't happen." Tim returned without a moment's hesitation.
You couldn't help but smile at his words. You loved him with all your heart and you knew he did the same.
Your father swallowed, nodding after a while, eyes glistening. "If you just so much as look at her in the wrong way, I will make the rest of your life a living hell." he swore Tim, huffing at his emotions taking over.
Letting go of Tim's hand you walked to your father, hugging him in relief. He returned the hug, his arms the same shelter as when you were just a small child.
"Thank you." you whispered, happy tears filling your eyes. "When he hurts you, just tell me and I'll get rid of him." he offered, letting go of you.
Judging by Tim's huff he heard his words, but you were sure he did it intentionally.
"I love you, dad." He smiled down at you, the emotions still clear on his distraught face. "I love you too, kiddo."
Rolling your eyes you hugged him again, before letting go and walking towards Tim.
Smiling up at him you took his hand back in yours. It would all be good. He returned the smile, still a little hesitant because of your father's presence.
Standing on your tip toes you kissed him, causing your father to immediately protest.
"No!"
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫 .𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ andy barber x fem!reader
summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ andy knows what he really wants but laurie doesn’t seem to want that
word count ☽˚⁀➷｡ 3,716
warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡ PART TWO OF SERIES being a parent, speaking spanish, speaking french, taking homecoming pictures, teenagers being annoying, confrontation if you squint, being a concerned partner, passionate romantic sex, anal, oral receiving, sextape, squirting, andy cheating, jacob accidentally calling reader mom, proposing, breeding, size kink, andy being a dilf and making you go brrrrrr DO YOU DIRTY SERIES
authors note ☽˚⁀➷｡ happy laurie barber hate club friday!!! enjoy the second addition to the laurie hate “series” PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated
enjoy the official laurie barber hate club playlist
꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎
Keep reading
Rook Book to Remember Me By
Part 2 of Rook Book
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Metro!reader
Summary: Tim's delay in transferring to Metro may have cost him everything, and as he and Lucy search Los Angeles for a killer, he only has his memories and a fake rook book to remember you by.
Warnings: ANGST, death, fluff
Word Count: 3.6k+ words
A/N: I know this is a Chenford gif but it fits. :)
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“What is that?” Lucy asks as she waits beside Tim’s desk. “A bomb?”
“Lower your voice, boot,” Tim snaps. “We don’t need a stampede.”
“Yes, sir. So, what is it?”
“What does it look like? It’s a book.”
“No, it’s a rook book with a bow on it. And I bet I know who it’s from.”
“50 pushups.”
“But-“
“You want double?”
Lucy frowns as she silences, and she watches Tim lift the book. He opens the front cover and shakes his head before dropping it into one of his drawers. Lucy doesn’t move toward the door, and Tim sighs as he leans against his desk.
“What?” he asks.
“Is that just a book? Or a non-rook-book-rook-book? Like the one somebody’s pretty TO used to carry?”
“Pretty TO?” you ask from behind Lucy.
Tim had been too distracted by the book and Lucy’s prying questions to notice you walk in. Dressed in your Metro uniform, you slide your hands into your pockets and smile.
“I’ll assume you’re talking about Tim,” you add.
“Yeah, right,” Lucy snorts.
“100 pushups it is,” Tim announces.
“Tim,” you chide softly. “You can’t blame her for being excited to see this side of you. It took me your entire probationary period to learn you could smile.”
“Chen, give us a minute,” Tim says.
“Do I have to?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” you and Tim say together. The difference is that you add, “Please.”
You watch Lucy move toward the equipment room before turning to Tim. He furrows his brows and unconsciously blocks the drawer with your gift in it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call last night,” you begin. “Metro raided a speakeasy, and it went a little haywire.” “Are you okay?” Tim interrupts. “That’s what I was going to ask you. I know you tolerate me, maybe even like me a little, but you don’t call unless you need something.”
“I, uh, just wanted to hear your voice. But I’m fine, I promise.”
You nod and run your tongue over your bottom lip as you think. “Still have nightmares?”
“I’m fine.”
“Look, Lucy is ready to pass that test, but in the end moving to Metro is a big decision. One you can do; I don’t doubt that. Just… don’t stick around because you think you have some debt to pay or something. Your boot is important, but your career is too.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Your Metro Commander yells your name, and you lay a hand on Tim’s shoulder before whispering a farewell. He watches you go and decides that when he calls you tonight, he’ll ask why you chose the book you did. Hopefully, he thinks, it will allow him to admit some things. He needs more than your voice to calm him in the middle of the night these days.
“Can I just say one thing?” Lucy asks from the passenger seat of the shop.
“Will me saying no stop you?” Tim replies.
“I think you’re really cute together. She’s been waiting for you, and I don’t think you should make her wait just because you’re scared.”
“What makes you think I’m scared? You mean well, Chen, but this is none of your concern.”
“Maybe not. But it’s yours, and you know I’m right.”
Tim wants to keep arguing, maybe threaten Lucy with more pushups to make her leave it alone, but the radio cuts him off.
“Attention all units. Officer down at Wilshire Federal Building. Metro requesting backup. Will advise.”
Tim’s world slows as he pulls the shop to a curb. He and Lucy are too far away to provide backup fast enough, but he can’t move until he knows that you’re okay. Lucy watches him as he stares at the radio, but with each second of silence, she gets more concerned for him.
“She’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispers.
Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative but believing that you’re okay without knowing is more dangerous than being wrong and hearing another officer’s name over the radio.
“Bradford, Chen, Harper, Nolan,” Wade radios. “Get back to the station and prepare to assist Metro.”
“Uh, you- you drive, Lucy,” Tim says as he unclips his seatbelt.
“Attention all units,” the dispatch officer begins.
She identifies the downed officer, and when your name is said, Tim’s world stops. He waited too long, and now he can never tell you how he feels. He had a crush on you, he wants to say, but it turned into so much more.
“Tim,” Lucy calls as she opens the driver-side door. “C’mon.”
Tim doesn’t feel any shame as he leans on Lucy. She ushers him into the passenger seat before she drives to the station with lights and sirens on. Tim’s silence is terrifying, and although Lucy is also feeling grief and is heartbroken to hear you’re gone, her concern for Tim outweighs her own emotions.
As Tim exits the shop, his devastation suddenly makes room for anger. He doesn’t blame any of your fellow officers, but if he had moved to Metro sooner, he would have been there with you, and maybe he could have changed the outcome. He slams the door and ignores Lucy as he storms into the bullpen.
Lucy and Tim slow as they see several Metro teams gathered together, but it’s obvious that something is wrong, something is missing. There’s a gap where you should be, and even the elite tactical officers seem lost without you.
“What happened?” Tim asks.
“Officer Bradford, we can’t release any information yet,” Wade answers. “Metro’s going to fill you in on what you need to know. They need as many of us as they can get.”
Tim clenches his jaw to stop the remark that he wants to make. The Metro teams are talking quietly, and he gestures for Lucy to step to his other side as he moves closer.
“You saw the shot?” one of them asks.
“Yeah,” someone answers.
“Then where’d they take her?”
At the realization that you’re not only gone, but they don’t even know where your body is, Tim begins looking around. He sees his Sergeant, Captain, and the Metro commanders huddled in a corner and walks directly to them.
“I want a position in the task force. You need more people, and I’m one of the few patrol officers who knows how to complete a manhunt like this,” he demands.
“I understand where you’re coming from Bradford, but you’re too invested in this to go out alone,” Wade replies.
“Then let me go with him,” Lucy interjects. “Tim knows what he’s doing, and we can patrol and engage in the manhunt at the same time, right?”
Wade looks to the Metro sergeant to his left, who shrugs noncommittedly. He sighs before nodding and tells Tim to get back out on the street and wait for the information about the gunman.
“Wait,” Tim tells Lucy as he stops beside his desk.
He pulls the book from the bottom drawer and tucks it under his arm before continuing to the shop. If this is his last drive where you’re involved, he wants you there. Or as close as he can get.
“Dispatch released a picture,” Lucy says before turning the dash computer toward Tim.
He looks at the picture until the light turns green, and then he begins a grid search surrounding the Wilshire Federal Building. If that man is still nearby, and Tim finds him first, prison will be the least of his worries.
“What’s the book?” Lucy inquires.
“It’s her favorite,” Tim answers.
“You know what her favorite book is. That’s really sweet, Tim.”
“She’s been telling me for years to read it and I keep making excuses not to.”
“And now?”
Tim nods, and Lucy knows that he is going to not only read the book but devour it and everything related to it to feel close to you again.
“7-Adam-19, assault in progress inside Shell gas station at the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Greenfield Avenue. 9-1-1 caller requested your presence on scene.”
Tim hits the steering wheel before telling Lucy to accept the call. He doesn’t have time to break up a fight in a gas station, not when your killer is on the loose. The gas station is less than five minutes away, but Tim gets grumpier with every minute. As he and Lucy enter the gas station, he’s prepared to jump in the fight just to finish it faster.
“You called the police, what’s the problem?” Tim asks the cashier.
The young girl looks scared; her face is pale, and her hands shake above the cash register.
“This doesn’t look like an assault in progress,” Tim adds with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Lucy steps forward to speak to the girl while Tim looks around. The gas station is empty, but Tim doesn’t make it far before he sees a blood trail on the floor. It rounds the end of the cashier’s counter and disappears under a door. Tim pulls his gun and whispers for Lucy to stay ready as he steps toward the door.
“In there?” Lucy asks.
The woman behind the counter nods, and Lucy gestures for Tim to go ahead. Tim pushes the door open and raises his gun to clear the room while Lucy stays on the other side of the opening. He looks down to follow the blood but freezes when someone speaks.
“Officer Bradford, California Penal Code 217.1 is punishable by what?”
“Chen!” Tim yells as he holsters his gun.
Lucy hits the light switch for the storage closet, and Tim kneels to lift a bloody gun from the floor.
“They said you died,” Tim says as he moves closer to you.
You hear Tim begin asking questions when he enters the gas station and hope the cashier that you scared by walking in covered in blood can point him to your hiding spot in the storage closet. Your gun is on the floor beside your feet and your long-sleeve Metro t-shirt is balled against the gunshot wound in your shoulder.
When Tim opens the door, you ask him about a penal code before your head tips forward. Staying conscious while losing blood isn’t as easy as some may think, and you want to make a joke, but Tim jumps to action before you can.
“They said you died,” Tim says quietly.
He lays a hand over your cheek as his other hand applies more pressure to the fabric on your shoulder.
“I think that was the goal,” you mumble.
“Chen, radio for-“
“No!” you interrupt. Your voice raises at the idea of Chen communicating this news over the radio. “The men who we went in there to arrest have radios. They knew we were coming, but if they think I’m dead we can use that.”
“You need help,” Tim argues.
He reaches for his phone, and you lay a bloody hand on his forearm to stop him. You wait for him to look at your face to smile.
“We find another way to get help. But as far as anyone with a police radio knows, I’m still dead.”
“How am I supposed to get you treatment for a GSW without raising any red flags? Any ER nurse will call the police.”
“What about Grace?” Lucy suggests. “Nolan’s friend? If we could talk to her before we take you in, she may be able to keep it quiet.”
“If you think it will work, let’s do it,” you agree.
“No,” Tim interrupts. “We’re not putting your life in the hands of a rookie.”
“Tim, she’s right. This is a good plan and one we need if we want these guys off the street. Please, just trust me and Lucy for a few minutes. You can yell at us and brainstorm new Tim Tests later.”
“Call Grace,” Tim says as he moves his arms around you. “If this starts going wrong, or something happens to you, I will use my radio.”
“Understood.”
You keep your uninjured arm across your chest as Tim lifts you into his arms. Lucy leads the way out and opens the backdoor of the shop before apologizing to the gas station clerk. She leaves her card and scribbles the number of someone who can clean the bloody scene but reminds the girl not to call the police or tell anyone you were here. As Tim drives through traffic and Lucy talks to Grace, you notice a book in the floorboard and chuckle.
“What?” Tim asks quickly.
“You have my rook book.”
“Guess I don’t have to read it now that you’re not dead.”
“If I didn’t know better I would think you’re mad at me, Bradford.” “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Don’t risk your job for revenge, Tim. I know you care about me, and I care about you, too, but this isn’t worth it. We work the case like any other.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tim snaps. “You didn’t think the woman you love was murdered twenty minutes ago.”
Lucy ends the call and looks through the cage at you. It’s not how Tim planned to tell you, but he feels lighter with the admission.
“I’m sorry, Tim,” you whisper.
“Tell me after.”
“I’m not waiting until the end of Lucy’s probation period.”
“Please don’t,” she agrees. “I can only take so much more pining from this one.”
“I don’t pine,” Tim grumbles.
“Yes, you do,” you and Lucy argue together.
“Bradford, status report?” Wade radios.
Tim looks at Lucy, who apologizes quickly for not communicating a code 4.
“Code 4, Grey,” Tim replies. “But don’t ask any questions right now.”
“Okay. As long as you didn’t break any laws, this conversation never happened.”
Tim glances over his shoulder at you, and you state, “I haven’t broken any laws. Have you?”
“Not yet. If there’s blood on this book later, that’s your fault.”
Tim sighs, and it sounds almost like a laugh. You don’t have time to tease him before he pulls into the emergency room drop-off area of Shaw Memorial Hospital. Grace and several nurses run out and wheel you in quickly, promising to help you without asking any questions or reporting anything to the police.
“What now?” Lucy asks as the doors close behind you.
“Now, we find the people who are getting 15 to life for trying to kill an officer for completing her duties,” Tim answers.
“Tim,” Lucy calls.
He stops, and she points to the blood staining his skin. Tim opens the trunk of the shop and retrieves a pack of wipes from one of the war bags. Lucy watches as he harshly scrubs your blood from his skin and gets angrier with every wipe he tosses aside.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asks.
“Lucy,” he begins as he slams the trunk closed. “I’m pissed off and I have a feeling in my chest that I’m not used to. But how I feel doesn’t matter. We’re going to get every single one of the people involved in this, and make sure they end up in a hole.”
“By ‘a hole,’ you mean prison, right?” Tim walks around the shop rather than answering, and Lucy rushes to repeat, “You mean prison, right?”
“7-Adam-19, report to Sepulveda and Ohio Avenue.”
“What now?” Tim yells.
He steers the shop into an illegal U-turn and speeds down Sepulveda Boulevard. Lucy gasps as they near the intersection.
“Turn left onto Ohio,” she says.
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
“Second left onto Camden,” she adds after he turns.
Tim slams on the brakes when he sees someone sitting on the curb at the end of Camden Avenue. Lucy exits the shop as soon as it stops and rushes to hug you as you stand.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?” Tim demands as he joins you.
“Uh, no?” you guess.
“It’s not your fight anymore. You’re dead, remember?”
“Tim-“
“No, you’re going home. You just got out of the hospital.”
“It was just a flesh wound. Lots of blood, a couple of stitches, but no long-term damage. Besides, when’s the last time you got to watch a ghost slap the cuffs on her killer?”
“Look around Tim,” Lucy encourages.
He already know where he is: the sight of his first arrest with you as his TO, it’s a day he’ll never forget. Tim groans before he waves his hand toward the shop. Lucy cheers and offers you her seat. It’s strange being in the passenger seat with Tim again; last time you were here, he was in long sleeves and fresh out of the Army. He was a great rookie, and he’s a great TO, but you want him to be more.
“Tim!” you alert just as Tim slows to a stop.
“I see him,” he agrees.
“Was that too easy?” Lucy asks.
“Well, it’s not over yet,” Tim responds.
“We can do it,” you tell Tim. “You go left, I go right, Lucy splits the middle.”
“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” Lucy whispers from the backseat.
“Alright,” Tim agrees. “Lucy, you do whatever you have to do to get the one in the middle down, okay?”
“3… 2… 1…” you and Tim count down together.
You exit the shop silently and leave the doors open. As Tim goes wide to take down the suspect on the left, you move toward the man who shot you. You, Lucy, and Tim strike at the same time and push the suspects down onto the sidewalk. The man beneath you attempts to elbow you in the face, but you shove his head down against the concrete and warn him against moving.
When you cuff him and pull him up to his knees, the man gets a good luck at your face. His expression changes and he leans away like you’re truly a ghost. He tries to move back, but only tips and rolls into the street.
“Leave him,” Tim says as he reaches for his radio. “Grey, this is Bradford, Chen, and our missing Metro officer. We’ve got good news and three suspects in custody. Send backup to my location.”
“No R/A?” you ask. “Because you seemed really eager to send me back to the hospital earlier.”
“You seem fine,” Tim explains with a shrug.
“Tim,” you call as you exit Wade’s office.
He’s changed into his civvies and is preparing to leave for the night. You can’t let him, though, because there is no more time.
“Can you- do you wanna come over for a bit?” you ask.
The left side of Tim’s lips move up as he nods, and you accept his hand as he leads you to his truck. Tim drives to your home in relative silence, and you use the time to find the right words to say. Once you’re inside, you sit on the couch beside Tim and decide to tell him everything. You’ve let him into your life and your house, now you just have to let him in on how you feel.
“You said you loved me in the shop today,” you say. “But I have been falling for you since the moment you walked into roll call your first day. You’ve always been more than my rookie and I can’t live another day without you in my life, Tim. I want you. Nightmares, embarrassing memories between us, fake rook books, all of it. I need you, Tim.”
Tim leans closer with his arm stretched on the back of the couch behind your shoulders. “This is better than 1001.66,” he murmurs.
“Did you just compare my confession of being in love with you to a penal code about bad checks? Because that is-“
Your words end in a hum as Tim curls his arm around your shoulders and kisses you. He tugs you closer, and you hold his face between your hands as you show him that your words are more than that. Tim has had a crush on you since he started patrolling with you, but now he knows that he loves you and needs you beside him. You push him, and he pushes you, but you do it because you know what you’re capable of.
Tim’s phone rings, but he ignores it as he pulls you closer, so your legs are bracketing his. He leans up to continue kissing you as his phone begins ringing again. You press your hands against his chest and break away to retrieve his phone. He follows your movement and peppers kisses along your jaw, completely uninterested in answering his phone.
You see the name on the caller ID and answer, “Hi, Lucy.”
“Hey!” she replies. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing. And if Tim’s alright after everything that happened.”
“We’re both fine,” you promise breathlessly.
“Wait-“
You assume that Lucy realizes that you answered Tim’s phone, which means you’re still together. She squeals into the phone, and you pull it away from your ear and smile.
“Oh, I have to tell Angela!” she yells.
Tim rolls his eyes and keeps one hand around your waist as he pulls his phone away from you. “Bye,” he says quickly before ending the call.
“Hanging up on your rookie isn’t nice,” you say.
“Like you wouldn’t have hung up on me.”
“You were scared to call because you had a crush on me.”
“Still do.”
“What? Tim-“
Tim cuts you off with another kiss; it’s his answer and a reminder of how he feels. You remember the rook book that was in his truck, but now that you’re a permanent fixture in Tim’s life, you can make sure he reads it.
Venom To The Rescue- Venom/Eddie Brock x Reader
Summary: Venom comes to readers rescue when she’s harassed by John Walker
Word Count: 1, 710
CW: *does have a scene of sexual harassment so TW for that*
*Want to be tagged in any future Venom/Eddie fics? Click here*
The excess room in the transport van was much appreciated, as you, Eddie and Venom travelled to meet the famous Avengers. Eddie stayed with you for most of the journey, but Venom wanted to take over every now and then, complaining that he wanted to see you and that he was bored.
You knew the main reason for the van was to act as a somewhat transport cage for Venom, especially with the armed guards behind you and one in the passenger seat, but you understood.
Being with Eddie and Venom for the past two years and seeing what Venom could do, you completely understand peoples caution. Venom tried to act innocent and like he didn’t understand the need for armed guards, but he knew why, and you think deep down he was a little proud.
“Are we almost there?” Venom continued to complain.
“I think we’re pulling in now, Vee,” you smile sweetly and patiently at the large alien.
“Mr. Brock, it might be best for you to be the one to meet with the Avengers first,” the armed guard in front of you informed.
“What?! That’s not fair!”
The guards pulled their guns, and Venom smiled wide as he licked his fangs, obviously excited for a fight. You knew this was stressing Eddie out and that Venom could easily take these guys out, so to calm the situation you gently placed your hand on Venoms bicep.
“Hey, V, think of it this way, they see Eddie first and think it’s fine, and then when the times right you can make a big appearance, wowing and scaring everyone.”
You always knew how to stroke Venoms ego to make him behave.
“Very well,” he simply spoke as he let Eddie come back.
Seeing Eddie’s face and body once again, you both sighed a sigh of relief. Holding onto Eddie’s hand tightly, you see the van is slowing down and a woman in a professional looking pants suit and tablet is ready waiting for you.
Giving Eddie’s hand a last squeeze of encouragement, you both step out of the vehicle.
“You must be Eddie and Y/N, welcome to the Avengers headquarters. My name is Maria Hill, and I’ll be introducing you and ah- your friend to the team.”
Maria was sweet, although you could tell a little nervous. You and Eddie knew that the Avengers had seen lots of different and dangerous things, but it seems Venom is still a challenge for them.
Walking down the halls to the planned meeting area, Maria is pointing out different things about the building, where things are, what things do, who certain people are.
As you’re all about to step into the elevator together, you hear someone running over.
“Hey, hold the elevator!” You hear someone yell.
Turning around to look at who the voice belongs to, you notice it is no other than John Walker, aka Fake Cap, as you, Eddie and Venom call him. You knew you’d most likely encounter him today, and you all had to prepare each other to meet him, and be on your best behaviours.
“Ah, John good to see you,” Maria told him, obviously trying to hide a wince, “this is Eddie and Y/N. Eddie is a new potential recruit and Y/N is his partner.”
At hearing you were dating Eddie, something seemed to pass John’s eyes, a look of both intrigue and mischief, but whatever it was, it put you on edge.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke only to you as he stepped into the elevator with you, a little close for your liking.
Eddie put his arm around your waist and you could hear Venom growl. Eddie and Venoms protection of you seemed to amuse him, as he smiled creepily, and his eyes leered at you.
Facing the doors for the rest of the lift ride, you could still feel John’s eyes on you the whole time. Eddie’s grip on you got tighter and tighter as you could tell he was trying to hold back Venom.
You comforted them as they protected you.
Walking into the large lab-like room, the rest of the team stood around an area that was no doubt designed for Venom to show himself. Venom had a crowd and a podium, this is exactly what your little drama queen wanted.
After Maria had introduced you to the anxious group of heros, you let go of Eddie and encouraged him to step forward.
While you watched Venom appear through Eddie, you tried to ignore the way John’s eyes obviously bore into you, as if he was studying your actions. Venom stood to full height and waved at you like a kid at a talent show, your wave back seemed to interest John as his stare became even more intense.
Luckily for everyone, Venom was a little too busy showboating to notice how close John now stood to you.
“Alright, Vee, I think that’s enough, sweetheart, time to bring Eddie back,” you called to him as you could see he was getting a little too excited.
Being with both Eddie and Venom could be challenging sometimes, especially when Venom acted like a toddler, but you knew there was more to him than that. You knew how to wrangle him in, and he knew how to make you laugh and look after you.
The team seemed almost amazed that you could bring him back so easily, but the amazement quickly turned to relief as Eddie appeared again. Everyone parted for Eddie to stand beside you, except for Maria, who had most likely practised keeping her cool, this kid Peter who was more excited then scared, and of course, John.
“Alright well, if it’s alright with you Y/N, we’d like to talk with Eddie in private now. Please feel free to wait in the common room I showed you and we’ll come get you once we’re finished.”
You felt a little worried to leave your boys alone, but you made sure to give Eddie a comforting hug and whisper a stern ‘behave’ into Eddie’s ear, before you left.
********
The common room was nice, it was about midway up the tower with large glass windows to see all over the city. After such a long trip it was to your delight that the room was empty, so you could have any of the big comfy couches all to yourself.
Once you made yourself a drink from one of the fancy machines in the kitchen area, you got yourself comfortable and began to read with your warm drink.
It seemed the meeting with Eddie was taking longer than you thought it would, as you finish a chapter and your drink. Standing up you decide to go back to the kitchen to get a cool drink of water. Unfortunately as you turn toward the kitchen however, you almost run into John.
Seeing him alone, and now standing so close, you try your best to calm your breathing.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting?” You asked, trying your best to sound pleasant.
Instead of answering, he simply gave you a sly shrug and smile, as he pushed you against a table, trapping you between it and him.
“What the fuck, John?”
You try your best to shove him off, but it’s no use. Looking into his eyes with fear, his stare only appears predatory as one of his hands rests on your hip.
“What? You’re not gonna call me ‘sweetheart’ like you did with the monster? Hmm? Pretty thing like you dating both a man and a monster. What Brock not man enough for you? Need a monster to fuck you too? You really are a kinky little bitch. I like that.”
You were petrified, frozen in fear, as you prepared for him to kiss or grab you, but it never came. Instead you feel his body weight leave yours, and you see him thrown around the room.
Venom lets out a loud growl as he pinned him against the wall by his neck.
“How dare you speak to her like that! How dare you touch her!”
Still frozen from shock, you can’t move to stop him, and it seems like none of the rest of the team want to do anything either. John thrashes about in Venoms grip, and the team look like they’re trying to work out if and how to save him.
“This guys growing on me, I say we let him join,” Bucky laughs to Sam, everyone’s attention on Venom and not you.
Sam simply rolls his eyes at his friend and groans, realising he’s the one who has to stop all this.
“Alright, I think he’s had enough, big guy.”
You knew Sam wouldn’t be enough to stop him, and you didn’t want someone innocent being hurt by Venom.
“Venom!” You finally find your voice and call out.
You try to think of more to say, but as he and Eddie look at your trembling form, it’s enough for him to stop.
“My sweet,” Venom strides over to you, with each step he turns back into Eddie.
“Let’s get you outta here, sweetheart,” Eddie’s hand comes up to gently stroke your cheek.
“Um huh hmm, Eddie and Y/N, if you’d like to follow me, I can show you to a room for you to stay for the night,” Maria awkwardly interrupted, attempting to soothe the situation.
As if in a numb state, you simply followed Eddie while he gently drags you along. You seem to zone out the whole trip there, until you hear a buzz of your door opening.
“Come on, baby. Get you into bed and I’ll hold you.”
Eddie gently pulls you into the room, and begins to make you comfortable. Sweetly laying you down on the double bed, he takes off your shoes and socks, pulls the covers over you and crawls into bed on the other side of you.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he gentle coaxes as he opens his arms.
The second you lay on his warm chest, a floodgate of tears fall down your face, and the fear and anxiety hits you all at once.
“I’m sorry, baby. We love you so much,” Eddie coos as he rocks you, safe in his arms.
“Adultère”
Adultère: French for Adultery.
pairing: Andy Barber x WOC!fem!Reader
Warnings: CHRISTMAS, emily trying to be a good fanfic writer and pretending she knows shit about male underwear, cheating, insecurities but y/n is THAT bitch though, swearing, smut: degradation, andy puts the pussy on a pedestal (as he should), unprotected sex: P in V (zon’t do it. zon’t do it….), light daddy kink + subspace, use of the word “cunt” ihkzlkadj, cheesy happy ending
A/N: THIS IS FOR MY MAIN GIRLY JASMEEN ILY JAS THEE STALLION CAUSE ITS HER BDAY AND IT MOTIVATED ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR ONCE!! ❤️💞🥺 @cloudystevie
For Siri’s @stargazingfangirl18‘s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!
Prompt: Character A is having a sad, lonely holiday when Character B unexpectedly shows up to spend it with them
Since i’m a lazy, incompetant person, this is also for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge! Love u Siri, hope you’ll like this
chile not me giving y’all the bare minimum every two months. listen to Lana Del Rey and wake up your sugar baby instincts for maximum experience. Also, i didnt watch defending jacob cause as much as I love chris and shows in general i’m poor and lazy… And i wrote about boston. LAST TIME. my ny ass had a hard time rbhnkjdik // Also, i’m not that good with christmas stuff like.. I really don’t care that much about the christmas spirit and i’m so sorry cause IK you can feel it throughout the whole fic.
Word count: 4.6k+
Keep reading
Lock and Key
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!pregnant!CSIphotographer!reader
Summary: When Angela and Nyla need someone to go undercover in a women's prison, you seem like the perfect candidate. Inside with Lucy, Tim, and Angela nearby, you find more than a killer.
Warnings: fluff, brief angst, murder case, very quick allusion to past sexual assualt
Word Count: 1.9k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
“Can you do another establishing shot of the bedroom?” your crime scene unit supervisor requests.
You nod, feel your baby kick, and tread carefully through the home-turned-crime scene to take more photographs. It’s no secret that CSIs can never take too many photos, but now that you’re pregnant, you wonder if there’s a way to collect them faster. You love your job; being a police photographer is wholly rewarding and enjoyable for you, but some scenes and some days are more trying than others. Being near Tim Bradford at work similarly has its pros and cons.
“Hey, mama,” Angela greets as she enters the bedroom. “Is this the primary scene?”
“We think so,” you answer softly, removing the sync cord from your camera to photograph the scene without the light.
“How are you feeling?” Angela asks, looking around the room without altering anything before your photos are complete.
“Pretty good,” you reply.
“Tim still… well, Tim?”
You nod as you move toward the corner, focusing the camera on a bloody screwdriver. Whatever happened here wasn’t quick and was undoubtedly painful. Your supervisor walks through the hall and tells you to pack up, and you nod at Angela with a smile. She hugs you before you leave, and you ready your nerves to see Tim when you return to the station.
“Wait, go back,” Lucy requests as you’re shepherded into the roll call room. “Tim, I’m going to say this slowly and I want you to listen very carefully, okay?”
“Chen,” Tim snaps.
She doesn’t heed his warning tone and begins, “You want to send the mother of your child into a prison to get intel on a murder case. Where in that sentence do you hear a good idea?”
“What?” you inquire with your hands clasped tightly beneath your growing bump.
Lucy turns, her expression guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”
“We were just brainstorming,” Tim explains, walking toward you. “The woman who was murdered this morning was released from CIW last week.”
“CIW, however, is out of our jurisdiction,” Nyla adds. “So, we reached out to San Bernadino PD and they’ve agreed to let us send in a UC.”
“The problem is that the woman we need to talk to is notoriously picky about who she takes up company with,” Tim adds. “Rumor is, she has a thing for strays, she likes being around people she can protect.”
“Which, to me, sounds like she would be ready to turn on them in an instant,” Lucy interjects. “Hence my reluctance.”
“So, because I’m pregnant, you think she’d watch out for me, let me close?” you clarify.
“More or less,” Nyla answers.
Lucy scoffs and shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Would I be alone?” you whisper, looking at Tim.
“Of course not. We’d send in two officers, acting as doctors, who can pull you out any time.”
“Would it do it if Tim and Angela went in with you?” Nyla asks.
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider everything. You’d be putting yourself and your baby in danger. If Tim and Angela were a call away, the risk would decrease dramatically. Before you can decide, Lucy holds your arms and hugs you.
“Don’t do it,” she says. “There’s too much at risk.”
“We can’t just leave a killer on the street,” you whisper against her.
Lucy sighs as she pulls back, and she nods. “Then I’m going in too. Get San Bernadino on the phone; I want to be closer than a doctor.”
Nyla nods, then looks at you.
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you state.
“We’re right beside you,” Tim promises, kissing your hairline.
“Technically, I am right beside her, you’ll be in the infirmary,” Lucy corrects. “I better get to be this baby’s godmother.”
Nyla laughs before she says, “In your dreams, single-income, apartment-sharing option.”
“What, just because you’re married and have a house, you’re a better fit?” Lucy questions. Her smile drops as she murmurs, “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Alright,” Tim calls, shaking his head. “Let’s go to Chino and get some answers out of convicts.”
“They call her Pitbull,” Angela had explained before you went in. At your wide-eyed expression, she adds, “She’s essentially a guard dog. She chooses who she’ll protect and sics anyone who comes near. If you can get on the right side of Pitbull, she’ll tell you what she knows about Ringer – our victim.”
You sit on your bunk and look around, wondering if you look like a pumpkin in an oversized orange jumpsuit. When you hear footsteps outside, you drop your head and let your shyness run rampant. If it makes you seem weak, this is a better time than ever to embrace it.
Lucy unlocks the cell door, and Pitbull enters. She looks at you, running her eyes up and down your face before noticing the protruding baby bump beneath your new and temporary outfit.
“What are you in for?” Pitbull asks, her voice raspy and low.
“Stabbed my baby daddy,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your stomach. “He wouldn’t stop,” you add, letting her fill in the blanks.
As you speak, your baby kicks. The farther along you get, the more your voice seems to excite him or her.
“You don’t fit in here, Mommy,” Pitbull sneers.
You nod with your head down, telling the truth when you agree with her.
“People around here don’t like different, don’t like chicas who aren’t the same,” she adds. “What are you going to do about that?”
When you shrug, she surges forward. Her hands land on your shoulders, and you inhale when she pushes you up to make you look at her. She stops, smiles, and brushes her hand against your neck.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she whispers. “Understand?”
“Why?” you inquire.
“Because…” she drops her hand to your bump before she confesses, “I’ve got reasons you won’t understand, and you’ve got a reason to accept the protection.”
“I can’t- I don’t have anything to give you.”
Pitbull laughs as she returns to her cot. “This isn’t a tv-style arrangement; I’m giving you a gift, and I ask for nada in return. Just focus on yourself, and the baby.”
“Thank you.”
As you lay awake in bed the first night, you hear Pitbull whisper a prayer in Spanish. You wonder what she knows when she asks for the eternal protection of Ringer’s soul.
“Dr. Benson is here,” Lucy says, dressed as a corrections officer. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa, hold up,” Pitbull interrupts, moving to block the cell door. “Dr. Benson male or female?”
“None of your concern.” Lucy barks your fake last name and repeats, “Let’s go.”
“She was traumatized by her ex; she probably doesn’t want a male doctor. Right?”
She turns to face you, and you nod sheepishly.
“So, now it is my concern,” Pitbull continues, cracking her neck to the side. “I go with her, or you get another doctor.”
Lucy sighs as she checks her watch. Pulling a radio from her hip, she asks if you can have another inmate accompany you. You recognize Angela’s voice as she begrudgingly allows it just this one time.
“Boy or girl?” Pitbull asks, glaring at the women in the cells you pass.
“I don’t know yet,” you answer honestly. “Doesn’t matter, though, does it?”
“Still your kid. Last chica I shared a cell with, she had a kid on the inside, reached out when he turned 18, and got cartas desagradables from the parents even though he was old enough.”
“Cruel world,” you murmur.
“Crueler people.”
You glance at Pitbull, wondering what she did to get her locked up for nearly half of her life. She’ll come up for parole in a few years. Part of you wants her to get out, but you know better.
“Ringer – that’s what we called her because she rung a guy’s neck for assaulting her niece…”
You know that’s not true. Ringer's niece was assaulted, but Ringer broke a lot of necks looking for the right guy. She was practically a serial attempted murderer.
“Ringer said she was going to find the kid when she got out, just long enough to apologize and let him know she wouldn’t have given him up if she’d had a chance.”
“Noble,” you muse.
“Crueler people,” she repeats as you near the prison infirmary.
Pitbull stands beside Lucy as you move to the examination table. Tim enters a moment later, looking like an angel in a white lab coat. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is styled differently. His hands on you feel the same, even if he isn’t smiling and keeps his speaking clipped and serious (though you suppose that part isn’t much different than the version of him you see at work).
“How far along are you?” he asks.
“Four months or so,” you answer.
Tim nods, then lays his hands on either side of your bump.
“Have you had a thorough exam by an OBGYN?” he inquires.
You shake your head, and he slides the rolling chair back as his hands fall away.
“She’ll need one now,” he tells Lucy. “I can call in a female colleague if that would be more comfortable.”
“Do that,” Pitbull demands.
Tim stands, nods at Lucy, and exits the room. He returns to hand Lucy a paper robe, then disappears. Lucy takes Pitbull out of the exam room while you change, and you know she will keep her out for the entire 'examination’ so you can tell Tim and Angela what you found. Angela comes in first, her brows rising at the sight of you in a jumpsuit with tight braids framing your face, courtesy of Pitbull.
“She said Ringer was looking for her son – he turned 18 while she was still incarcerated, and she vowed to find him when she got out,” you explain. “His adoptive parents wanted her far away from him.”
“That’s motive,” Angela says, pulling her phone from her pocket. “I’ll get units to the parents’ house now.”
Tim returns to your side, and you pull his hand against your bump. As you tell him everything Pitbull has shared with you, your baby kicks against his hand. Tim smiles as he bends down to kiss you, and you suddenly want to leave this prison. Pitbull’s parole is no longer a thought in your mind.
“We’ll get you out as soon as we can,” Tim promises.
Less than twelve hours later, you’re removed from your shared cell with Pitbull, taken to solitary, and then you walk out of the prison in your own clothes with your hand held tightly in Tim’s. Ringer’s killer, the adoptive father of her son, is behind bars and awaiting trial, and Angela and Nyla have yet another solved case to add to their repertoires.
“Want to grab some dinner?” Lucy asks in the parking lot. “Or breakfast,” she amends, noting the first streaks of sunlight painting the sky.
“We’re going home,” Tim answers for you.
“Thanks for everything, Lucy,” you tell her as Tim opens his passenger door for you.
“I didn’t do much,” she argues. “But anytime.”
In the comfort and safety of your home, you sit beside Tim, brutally aware of his fingers brushing along your bump where his arm is tucked around your waist.
“You did amazing,” he says.
He kisses your forehead and then your lips, and you sigh against him as your baby kicks again.
“We should find out the baby’s gender,” he says. “I know we said we didn’t want to…”
“I agree,” you reply, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’ll make an appointment.”
“You mean you’ll have me make an appointment.”
You turn your face against his shoulder and huff, your ears warming at his teasing. Tim chuckles, holding you like he never wants to let you go, and you feel exactly the same.
THE GANG EXPANDS pt.2
IASIP x Reader
Always Sunny Masterlist
“Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview.” Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance on the stool.
Part 1 Here
Summary: You agreed to play Chardee Macdennis with the gang as a form of ‘job interview’. The level 3 card you pull poses the question of how far is too far?
Warnings/Tags: 18+ due to the very nature of the show. Canon typical themes including but not limited to misogyny, exploitation, abuse, derogatory language, drugs and alcohol, sexual themes, etc.
You read the level 3 card aloud, "You must do the hardest drug available to you. Players have 1 minute to search and present you with their findings."
Thinking that this game was most likely designed to be played on a weekend when it was more likely for someone to be holding, you sighed in relief. However your brief moment of safety was short lived as you watched everyone dispense and rummage around in their pockets — desperate to find anything that could be considered a hard drug.
Dee dug her contraceptive pill packet from her handbag and placed it on the table. It was a safe option, what would a harmless bit of estrogen do for a fellow fertile woman, huh?
Dennis reluctantly pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a small clear ziplock baggie with a single pill inside of it. "It's a perfectly legal prescription, calm down."
"But what is it though? It could be a fresh dose of date rape for all we know. How do we know it's not a roofie, huh?"
"Jesus Christ Deandra, no... It's an emergency melatonin for me to take if I decide to stay the night with a lovely lady at her house instead of mine."
Dee wasn't buying that crap. She wasn't buying it for one second.
Frank pulled out a penny, $300 in cash, a cracked piece of eggshell and a black jelly bean from his pocket, whilst Charlie pulled many an assortment of treasures; A Phillips head screw, a cashew nut, a crumpled up receipt and ball of lint that on second glances was definitely crawling across the bar table. Last but not least however, you watched him pull out a tab of acid from his jacket pocket.
"Wait, shit… I need that back!" Charlie said worriedly, leaning over Frank's shoulder to take back the receipt of all things. "I bought a dud goldfish from the pet store the other day. It's a rollercoaster of a story. I'll tell you later."
"Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview." Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance until you swung your arm out to stop her.
"You're right Dee. You're right." Mac hiccupped before raising his eyebrows in surprise of his own inner thoughts. “What if she dropped acid as an employee? Make it a team bonding exercise.”
Anatomy of a Relationship
Requested Here!
Pairing: (established) Tim Bradford x fem!neurosurgeon!reader
Summary: When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.
Warnings: brief angst, fluff, a Castle reference, Karah is loosely based on Regine from Living Single
Word Count: 1.8k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Rules/Info
“11.25 millimeters,” you read. “That’s not good.”
“What’s not good?” your best friend, Karah, whispers as she lays her hand on your shoulder.
“I just got an MRI with an 11.25-millimeter aneurysm attached to the basilar artery,” you answer. “What’s up?” you murmur, flipping the page.
“Nothing,” she sighs.
“That was convincing.”
“It’s not as important as a brain aneurysm.”
You set your clipboard on your desk and turn toward Karah, shaking your head as you smile at her. “Most things aren’t, but I’m sure I can manage it.”
Before Karah answers, your phone rings. You mouth an apology as you answer and say your name.
“Got it, on my way,” you assure before you end the call. As you gather your things, you tell Karah, “We will talk later. Promise.”
“Go save a life!”
“I have been looking everywhere for you!” you exclaim as you enter a supply closet.
Karah hums but doesn’t speak past the nail polish applicator held between her teeth.
“Pretty color,” you muse as you sit beside her on a gurney.
“Thanks,” she replies as she removes the applicator. “Want some?”
“Surgical board frowns upon painted nails,” you remind her.
“Hence, why I’m doing my toe-sies,” Karah singsongs. “What are you doing with Sergeant Bradford tonight?”
“As little as possible, I hope. What are you doing tonight? Another date with the mystery man?”
“Another date, yes. Mystery man, no.”
“What happened?”
“Have you ever watched a cartoon where the characters kiss and they just kinda…” Karah closes the nail polish and shoves her palms together in demonstration.
“Sure,” you answer, nodding. “The PG version with no emotion and no lips.”
“Yeah, that’s how he kissed.”
“Ugh.” You shiver for emphasis, and Karah nods emphatically.
“And his lips were chapped, too.”
“We can’t have anything in this life.”
Karah scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Right, because you have it so bad with a hot police officer.”
“A hot police officer who cancels dates weekly and has minimal emotional availability.”
“But you love him,” she reminds you.
“That I do. Look, I’ve got a consult call before I leave, but call me later, let me know how your date went, okay?”
“Will do. Enjoy your date, if it happens.”
You shove Karah gently as you slide off the gurney. Opening the door, you call, “Love you!” over your shoulder.
“Smooches!” she replies.
“Stop staring at me,” Tim demands as he locks your door.
“Answer the question!” you reply. “I can’t let you sleep here if you’re lying to me!”
“It’s fine.”
“Why? How do you know?”
Tim sighs and takes your face between his hands. “It’s fine,” he repeats.
You pout, pushing your lower lip out as you blink at him.
“My neighbor is watching Kojo, so it is fine if I stay tonight,” he assures you with a sigh.
Your brows furrow as you ask, “You asked your neighbor to watch Kojo? Presumptuous.”
“I… Never mind,” Tim murmurs, his hands still on your face.
“We should probably have some dessert,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Not like that, Tim, get your mind out of the gutter.”
Tim huffs a laugh, then kisses your forehead and drops his hands to your waist.
“Listen,” you request, not moving to get dessert. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not asking you to make any big decisions or anything, but if you want to bring Kojo in the future, you can.”
“Thank you.”
“Although, he’d probably never want to leave because I’m nicer than you.”
Tim tightens his grip on your waist slowly, waiting until you grunt to smooth his palms against your shirt. He leans toward you, and you murmur, “Dessert can wait.”
Your front door clicks closed around midnight, and you sit up in bed. Tim shifts beside you but doesn’t wake as he rolls away. Soft footsteps pad down your hall, and you relax, recognizing the gait. Karah steps into your room with her hair pulled back messily and her cheeks red from scrubbing her makeup off.
“C’mon,” you invite her, patting the mattress.
Karah pulls back the comforter and sits beside you with a heavy sigh. You move closer to Tim and lay your hand on his back.
“Is it me?” Karah asks.
“I hope so, considering you’re in my bed,” you reply softly. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing.”
“So, I went on a date with the vet, right? And the next day, he ghosts me. Then mystery man seems to be the one until we kiss and then there’s nothing there, no spark, no more mystery.”
“Tonight?”
“He wanted to move way too fast. Was I wrong for not wanting to? I mean, what if he was the one – or, at the least, the best I can get – and I ruined it because I asked him to slow down?”
“He wasn’t the one,” you assure her, wrapping her in a hug. “If he couldn’t respect that and made you uncomfortable, then he 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was not the one. You’ll know when someone is the one or has a chance of being him.”
Karah looks over your shoulder at Tim’s back and asks, “Are you sure?”
With a smile, you promise, “I’m sure. When the right man comes along, things aren’t always comfortable, but you’re willing to fight to get back to that comfort.”
“Unless there isn’t a right man,” Karah adds, falling back against your pillow. “I try, I get out and date, but maybe it is just me.”
“Maybe.”
Karah’s eyes widen, and you argue, “Exactly. There is no way it’s you. There are nearly 4 million people living in Los Angeles, so what if you can’t find the one perfect person for you quickly?”
“That’s only 2 million men, and half of those are married or not interested. The pool is way down and I’ve been swimming.”
“49 people in every 10,000 have a brain aneurysm each year. Just because it’s a low number doesn’t mean I’m going to quit my job. The 30,000 people who have an aneurysm rupture every year wouldn’t have a neurosurgeon if we all thought like that.”
“I see your point,” Karah grumbles. “But I still hate it.”
“I get it. But maybe a break would clear out some of the wrong men.”
“How do I find what you have?”
“The way I did it? Pure luck. Besides, most of the cops we get in the hospital aren’t like this one.”
“Maybe I should call Rick and see if he’s still single.”
“Rick who let his ex-wife crash at his house and walk around half-naked while you were dating? I’m going to veto that option.”
“He was rich.”
“And a terrible person.”
You scoot back to sit against the headboard as Karah tells you more about what she’s feeling, and as the night goes on, you do your best friend duty and don’t notice that your hand strays to Tim every few minutes.
“Okay,” you interrupt after hours of talking. “We need a pick-me-up.”
“What?” Karah asks.
“Let’s go.”
You lead Karah out of your bed and into the kitchen. After placing your kettle on the stove to heat water, you unlock your phone and scroll through your music library until you find the perfect playlist. The Bluetooth speaker tucked under your upper cabinet plays the opening notes of 2000s pop before Kesha sings, “Hot and dangerous. If you’re one of us then roll with us.”
Karah gasps in excitement, then leans forward to do the handshake you made up during your first year working together. The music plays too loud for the early hour as you dance around the kitchen together, but you don’t care because it’s cheering Karah up, which is the goal. Each word makes you feel better, more upbeat, and ready to do anything and everything.
As the playlist moves forward to a Britney Spears song, you freeze. Tim stops between the end of the hall and the kitchen and looks from you to Karah and then back to you.
“Is this why I was so squished last night?” he asks.
You nod meekly, and he waves his hand at you as he moves toward the kettle and the cabinet where you keep your tea and coffee.
“Breakfast?” he asks.
“Please!” Karah answers.
“Yes,” you say as you dance past him. “Thank you.”
You turn the music down at the end of the song and ask Karah if she feels better.
“Mostly,” she admits. “Now I just need a guy who makes me feel like Hips Don’t Lie does. Sorry, Tim.”
“I’m not even here,” he encourages her. “And if I was, I wouldn’t get involved.”
You shrug and gesture for Karah to continue.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you yet,” she murmurs.
“Well now you have to.”
“I agreed to go on another date with Ryan, the guy from last night.”
“What?!” you exclaim. “Why?”
“He waited. I mean he made me feel awful for asking but he agreed.”
Tim turns and passes Karah a mug of coffee before he sets your favorite drink beside your hand. “Dump him,” he encourages. “He didn’t mean it, he’ll keep pushing and dishonesty of that kind almost always leads to a misdemeanor, minimum.”
You look at Tim with your brows raised, then agree, “He’s right. A guy like that will try to pressure into not waiting. Don’t let him make you do something you’re uncomfortable with for any reason.”
Karah’s phone buzzes, and she groans as she reads the message. “Jill called in sick again, so I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the hospital?”
“If you’re lucky,” you tell her as you hug her. “And cancel on Ryan, or ghost him, but don’t see him again.”
“I will. Thanks, Tim!” she calls as she opens the door.
When you turn back toward Tim, he lays his palms on the counter and glares at you, but you can tell he’s hiding a smile.
“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile. “She needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t me.”
“Karah has a key. What would you do if one of my friends climbed into bed with us?” Tim inquires.
“Which friend?” you counter. “Because Lucy has a key to get in here too.”
Tim rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the food on the stove. “Make sure Karah leaves him and let me know if you need some help getting the message through to him.”
“Such a softie,” you muse as you raise your mug.
“What was that?” Tim challenges.
“I said will do, sir.”
Tim hums, so you stand and walk behind him. With your arms wrapped around his waist, you say, “I love you.”
“Then you’ll tell me how many people have a key to your door before I replace the lock.”
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.”
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