Hook, Line, And NOPE!
Hook, Line, and NOPE!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader
Summary: Tim Bradford gets hooked on loving you, but you play hard to get. After you finally admit that you feel the same, everybody says he's sleeping with the enemy.
Warnings: angst, arguments, emotional vulnerabity, fear of intimacy?, brief violence, fluff and comfort!
Word Count: 4.4k+ words
Song List: NOPE! by New Rules & Hooked by Why Don't We
For @newobessionweekly! Sorry it took me so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy it, I'm glad you're back, and I wish you the best in all of your endeavors!!
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“Surely you can see how this entire project is ludicrous.”
You tap your eraser against your notebook, looking at the lawyers sitting across from you, representing the Los Angeles Police Department. The meeting was supposed to be held after a public forum. Because the court of public opinion is rarely on the department’s side, you were called into an impromptu – and early – one-on-one with the police commissioner’s legal representation.
“How is attempting to mitigate the impact on public citizens and the local economy ludicrous, Mr. Evers?” you inquire. “As someone who lives in Los Angeles, I consider this decision quite sensible. Avoiding more construction, road closures, and drawn-out costs that will ultimately impact businesses and taxpayers is hardly a laughable matter.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Wesley defends. “Do you make it a point to disagree with the LAPD whenever possible?”
You smile then, leaning forward over a printed report. “Not all of its officers,” you confide. “Now, if you have no reasonable objections to our proposal, I suggest we reconvene at the planned time to discuss this in light of public opinion, rather than my apparently overly convoluted view.”
“You are not making friends in the department,” he says as he closes his leather-bound legal pad and stands. “There will come a time when you need their support.”
“And there will come a time when they’ll see that I am in fact on their side. Thank you for your time.”
As soon as the door closes behind Wesley Evers and the rest of the commissioner’s hand-picked team, you slouch in your chair and sigh.
“He’s going to tell his girlfriend everything you said,” the paralegal taking notes beside you murmurs.
“Well, as the heads of my fan club, I’d expect no less,” you reply lightly. “Thanks for your help preparing for this.”
“Any time. Sorry the LAPD doesn’t like you.”
“I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to do my job and do it well. Speaking of which, I’ve got a lunch meeting.”
“With whom?”
You tap your fingers to your lips like you’re keeping a secret. If you’re making enemies with local law enforcement, the least you can do is devote some of your free time to making it better.
“You look beautiful,” your lunch date says as he pulls your chair out for you.
You roll your eyes but feel your cheeks heat at his flattery. The man sitting across from you is undoubtedly on your string, and you pull it, even if you know this relationship will never be anything more than it is now. He says nice things to you, and sometimes, when you’re home alone after a long week of being told all of the reasons people don’t like you, it’s nice to think that he might like you – though, if he does, it’s different.
“Are you going to tell me why you wanted to meet today or should I guess?” he asks, sitting across from you.
“Well, you’ve never been one to give up before,” you muse.
“You had a meeting with Wesley.”
“I did.”
“How’d that go?”
“Imagine sitting at a table with twelve former arrests that hate you – some of them just on principle,” you begin. “But you have to be civil because it’s a work thing. That’s about how it went.”
“Well, you did slash the law enforcement budget.”
“Not by myself. And it wasn’t my first recommendation, but it’s what we had to do to ensure everything was able to get done for the year. I understand that I seem like the bad guy here. I’m on their side- your side, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
He hums, then reminds you, “We don’t all hate you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the exception.”
“Does that mean you’ve reconsidered my offer?”
You glance at him over the top of your menu. “I thought you were still mad about the flowers.”
“I got you flowers, you left them outside, they died. Flowers die, I got over it.”
“I just don’t get it,” you admit, setting the menu aside.
“I can explain it again. Unless you’re stalling, like I think you are.”
“You’re brave enough to chase what you want: promotions, people, possessions. I’m not.”
“Is that why you keep stopping this before we even start?” he challenges. “Why we’ll talk for hours one day, and the next you’re a ghost? Why you invite me over just to not be home?”
You raise your hand, silently begging him to stop. When he explains your actions this way, they sound much crueler than your intentions. Being surrounded by hostility at work has led you to build tall, nearly impenetrable walls around yourself. Sitting across from the one man you can see yourself having a future with threatens those walls. He’s been chipping away at them for months, finding the weak spots and being patient with you each time you suddenly pull back when you notice he’s gotten too close.
“I just…”
“You change your mind,” he finishes for you. “You change it like the clothes you’re in, but… I’m not giving up.”
You chew the inside of your lower lip as someone passes by your table. “Why?” you ask softly.
“Because I’ve got a suspicion that you feel it too. I know what you’re doing.”
Nodding, you remind him, “It’s not just me I’m protecting.”
At the end of your lunch, you walk back onto the streets of LA and wait awkwardly on the sidewalk.
“Think about it,” he encourages.
“I will.”
“Oh, one more thing.”
“Bye, Officer Bradford,” you say, turning to walk away from him.
“Hello!” Tim calls after you, trying to get your attention again.
“See you later!”
Four Months Later
“… T, U, V,” Lucy continues. She stops and shifts in the seat to ask, “Are you lying?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Tim replies.
“There is no way your girlfriend’s name starts with X, Y, or Z. Is there?”
“Can we go back to when my personal life was off limits?”
“No. Now, tell me what your girlfriend’s name is.”
“Never said I had one.”
Lucy groans. She’s seen all the evidence that Tim has someone special in his life. He hasn’t eased up on the Tim tests or given her a break from his usual grumpy demeanor, but the little things are evident because she knows where to look.
“Bradford, Chen,” Wade radios. “Divert to the station. I’m putting you on detail at the rally this afternoon.”
“Copy that,” Tim replies.
“Is rally detail boring?” Lucy inquires.
“Depends on what exactly your post is,” Tim answers honestly. “Being a rookie, probably. It’s crowd babysitting more than anything.”
“Fantastic,” she deadpans.
“I’m about to cash in my pension,” Angela complains.
“Tell me about it,” Bishop agrees. “Does the mayor’s office care that crimes are still happening outside of his bubble?”
“He’s laughing at us. Making us guard his precious little troublemaker because he knows we don’t like her.”
“Why is that?” Nolan asks.
“She doesn’t like to help cops,” Jackson answers. “Will fund just about anything else, then gives us the leftovers. When it comes to budgeting and resources, we’re her last thought after her last thought.”
“So, she treats police needs like an afterthought?” Lucy clarifies. “And everyone on the force has a problem with her for that?”
“Not everyone,” Tim answers. “Form your own opinion, boot, don’t just listen to the jaded and the one repeating his father’s complaints.”
“It’s my opinion, too,” Jackson interjects.
“Wait,” Angela says, turning toward Tim. “Don’t tell me you buy into her I’m doing what I can, and I don’t like it either spiel.”
“I’m just saying that we have no way in knowing that she isn’t doing all she can. The police budget wasn’t good before she got the job, either. Useless to blame one person for the government’s fallacies.”
“What?” Bishop asks.
“You like her!” Angela accuses.
“Oh my gosh,” Lucy mumbles, her eyes widening. “It’s her isn’t it?!”
“She’s who?” Bishop demands.
“Focus on your assignment,” Tim barks.
“No,” Angela says. “Tim, do not tell me you have feelings for this girl.”
“And what if I did?” Tim challenges.
“Then I’d tell you it would never work.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Tim, I’m serious, don’t let this girl pull you in somehow. She’s the enemy.”
“The enemy? Lopez, she’s doing her job. People don’t like us for the same reason, does that make us the enemy?”
“That’s not what-“
“What about Evers? He the enemy?”
“Okay,” Bishop interrupts. “You’re getting defensive, stand down.”
Tim rolls his eyes and leads Lucy toward the stage. Angela and Bishop watch him go, convinced there is more to Tim’s response than simply respecting that you’re doing your job and not singling them out.
“We need to talk,” Bishop says, waiting outside the locker room.
“I don’t need an intervention,” Tim deadpans.
“But you need to hear this,” Angela replies. “We don’t like her. 90% of cops minimum don’t like the mayor’s golden girl.”
“Well, I’m in the percentage that doesn’t need your help.”
“Tim, she is younger than you, she works day in and day out to make our jobs harder. You are incredibly different people.”
“And you need to bring this back into the proper perspective,” Bishop adds. “Reality is, Bradford, that even if you do like this girl in a purely professional sense, she will betray that somehow.”
Tim clenches his jaw. “Reality is, Talia, that my life is absolutely none of your concern.”
“Not what you said last time you needed a favor.”
“The low blows make you feel better? Remind you that your family-“
“Stop,” Angela demands, stepping between Tim and Talia. “This isn’t about that. Tim, we’re just saying not to start something with this girl because it won’t end well.”
“I haven’t started anything,” Tim replies. “But if I wanted to, if I wanted to see where it would go, I would.”
Angela watches him, ignorant of their rookies listening in on the conversation.
“You did start something, didn’t you?” Nolan asks from around the corner.
“What do you want the hear?” Tim snaps, looking between the veteran and rookie officers surrounding him.
“The truth!” Lucy answers.
“Fine! Yes, I am dating her. It took me months to get her to the point where she wasn’t scared to let me in, and I’m not walking away from it – or her – because you all have chips on your shoulders.”
Angela shakes her head as she says, “You’re sleeping with the enemy here, Tim.”
“Yeah, because she has such a bad reputation. All of you, back off.”
“Or what?” Bishop challenges.
“You don’t want to fight me on this,” Tim explains lowly. “Now move.”
Bishop tilts her head to the side, then steps back. Tim exits the station with his shoulders drawn back and his hands curled into fists. You may be public enemy number one as far as officers from Mid-Wilshire are concerned, but that won’t change anything for Tim. To Tim, you’re the sweetest temptation, and the one he wouldn’t walk away from, even if he wasn’t completely and utterly hooked on you.
“Your girlfriend’s on TV,” Angela grumbles a few days after their unpropitious meeting.
Tim glances up at the television screen. You’re standing beside the mayor and the budgeting committee. Last week, the city planner's office introduced a petition to build a new and improved police facility near the station Tim is now standing in. It would provide room for additional personnel, new state-of-the-art security, and a training course specifically for tactical responses, including riot control and high-risk breaches.
As the mayor speaks and officers from across the city watch, Tim keeps his eyes on you. You look good in the dark blue blazer he helped you pick. Though he knows you’ll probably deliver a speech that will intensify the feelings of disdain local law enforcement holds for you, Tim has wildly differing thoughts about you.
“After many discussions with the board beside me and the experts in my own office,” the mayor says, “we have decided to delay the planning and construction of the new police station indefinitely.”
A collective groan of disappointment fills the bullpen around Tim. The mayor continues speaking, but Tim can’t hear him over the chatter echoing in the crowded room.
“What does this mean for us?” Lucy asks beside him.
“Nothing,” he answers.
“Just that we’ll still be stretched too thin and underprepared for tactical emergencies,” Jackson adds, his voice laced with loathing.
“Which is no different than now,” Tim reiterates. “Metro has operated with the current standard operating procedures for several years and it works. We have new shift rotations every other week. The brass will work around this, just like they always do.”
“They shouldn’t have to.”
“Tell Tim’s girlfriend that,” Angela interrupts.
Tim looks back to the screen, unsurprised to see that you’re now at the microphone, smiling even as you prepare to deliver the displeasing details of the proposal refusal.
“Good afternoon,” you greet. “On behalf of the mayor’s office, I would first like to thank the employees who worked on this project proposal and the officers who will someday benefit from it.”
“She’s so full of it,” someone yells as others boo.
“This is really who you want to be with?” Angela challenges Tim.
“You should try listening sometime, Lopez. It can be enlightening,” Tim replies. “Let’s go, boot. We’ve actually got work to do.”
“It is a question of money, yes,” you continue as Tim leaves. “But there is also a concern of bias and competency in planning and construction because of current contracts. Of course, the mayor agrees that the facility is needed, and he’s not denying that it will be provided to the LAPD, he has simply determined – with his advisors – that now is not the proper time to begin the undertaking of such a project.”
“There’s still time to dump her before this starts,” Bishop whispers.
“And there’s still a chance for you to remember who you’re talking to,” Tim replies.
“She’s going to get crucified,” Angela says. “You really want to be the officer she drags down with her?”
Tim shakes his head just before the door opens. You follow the mayor inside and sit at one of two tables on the stage. They’re arranged in a wide V-shape, with six chairs and six microphones at each. The rest of the room is filled with police and press, all heavily vetted and here for a specific reason. After the press conference yesterday, the law enforcement community voiced a public outcry, which led the police commissioner and numerous reporters to call for a town hall meeting with an audience of people who will be directly affected by the decision. And those who will paint you in the worst light possible to inform the public of the decision.
The first speaker in the line, an officer Tim recognizes but doesn’t know, directly addresses you. Tim notices your shoulders straighten as you nod.
“You’re the one that cut the police budget. Now that we’re down one more asset and assist, how does it feel to have less protection at your fingertips as a city employee?” he asks.
Several officers cheer, but Tim crosses his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes. He and Lucy arrived early and are seated in the front row. You lock eyes with Tim briefly before you answer.
“As I explained yesterday, the budget does play a role in the city’s delay of building this facility,” you explain. “But there are other concerns.”
“Like what?” the officer asks.
“The city of Los Angeles is currently under contracts with specific architects and engineers. These craftsmen are undoubtedly talented, yet there have been questions of their focus and dedication in their trades.”
“Speak English!” someone yells.
You smile at that and continue, “The engineers we would have to hire to build something of this size are solely interested in the paycheck they would receive. The mayor is unwilling to compromise the integrity of the building, so he decided to wait. If we move forward now, the final result would not be the better building and better system you need.”
“And you know what we need,” a reporter jeers.
“More space and additional resources, amongst many other things. I’m not arguing that you have clear needs, I am simply stating that this isn’t the way to do it. Not if you want it done rightly.”
You watch the officer turn away from the mic stand. He slows by the second row of chairs, and your brows pinch as you watch him.
“How did you determine there’s bias?”
Tim turns when the question is asked, shaking his head when he sees Bishop standing at the microphone. She glares at you, but one of the mayor’s corporate lawyers leans forward to answer the question. As he discusses the audit his team completed, you look past Tim. He meets your eyes and lifts his hands from his lap in question.
Without responding to Tim, you turn and speak to a member of the mayor’s security detail. The man nods, looks past Tim, then steps behind the stage before disappearing from Tim’s view.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor interrupts. “Today’s meeting is to discuss the postponement of this project. There is no room for blaming members of this committee or seeking answers to personal questions. Next speaker, please.”
Bishop rolls her eyes as she passes Tim, and he silently hopes that this doesn’t make you pull away from him again. If Tim is sleeping with the enemy, he won’t let the people on his side push you away, even if it means going against everything he’s supposed to believe in. You’ve got a habit of saying nope just because you are more comfortable hiding your feelings and saving yourself from being vulnerable with the wrong person. Tim knows he is the man you can be yourself with. Maybe the only one.
“That has no bearing on the need for more space,” you say, drawing Tim’s attention again. “Simply put, you’re getting the new station when it is fiscally and morally wise. And not a moment before, regardless of how much you need it, or think you need it.”
The crowd roars, booing and voicing baseless insults against you. You stand and walk off the stage while the mediator attempts to regain control of the room. There will be another meeting at the end of the week, and Tim wonders how many of these officers will be in attendance and how many will still be angry.
It’s Friday afternoon when a similar group convenes in the mayor’s office. There’s less press, and many of the officers in the room are high-ranking. Grey brought Tim, Angela, Bishop, and their rookies, stating that the rookies need exposure to the politics of policing and that the TOs are among his best officers. You smile at Tim when he enters but look away when you see the officers with him. Sergeant Grey has never been anything but civil with you, yet the complaints of his officers may have swayed him.
“Excuse me,” you whisper to a security guard behind you. “Is the man in the blue jacket an officer?”
He glances over the table and shrugs, then says, “Everyone was screened coming in, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” you reply, nodding as you face the crowd.
As the conversation – a polite term for the personal attacks and invasive questions – begins, you remain quiet. You look forward, unresponsive to the different officers raising concerns or voicing their opinions.
“Finally found her off switch, I see,” Bishop murmurs.
“She’s much more tolerable this way,” Jackson agrees.
“I don’t think she’s even listening,” Nolan points out.
“Neither are you,” Tim replies gruffly.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you, distracted by your rigid posture and silence. Something is wrong. Whether someone in your office told you to stand down or you’re troubled by another instance, you’re not acting like yourself, and Tim hates it.
“Good afternoon,” a man says into the microphone.
Tim glances at him, wonders why he’s not in uniform, and then refocuses on you.
“The architect and engineer contracts are time-based, correct?” he inquires.
“Yes, sir,” the mayor replies.
“Then what makes you think the next crew to sign a two-year contract won’t have the same bias? The same obsession with being paid quickly rather than doing good work?”
“It’s not so much the contract as the ethics of the companies themselves. We’ve already begun the search for new firms and have found promising and talented teams we’re eager to begin working with.”
The man nods and returns to the back corner of the room, standing away from the rest of the crowd. After excusing yourself softly, you walk to the back of the room, heading toward the door. You’re on the same side of the room as Tim, but he can’t see you behind him.
While you approach the man in blue, he walks along the wall, nearing the front row. He’s getting too close to the mayor and too close to Tim, you think. You slow when he stops.
“Is your office prepared to provide additional resources to the stations in need while we wait for this building development to begin, Mr. Mayor?” Sergeant Grey asks.
The officers applaud his question, sharing their support of the idea. You don’t listen for the mayor’s reply as the man slips his hand beneath the back of his jacket and wraps his fingers around something.
“Quiet, please,” the mayor calls. “Thank you. And that’s an excellent question.”
“Officer Bradford,” the man says.
As Tim begins to turn, the man pulls his arm forward, and you don’t hesitate to surge forward. You tackle him to the floor, knocking his gun out of his hand and toward the stage. Officer Chen stands first, rushing to your side as she takes your position and handcuffs the armed man. The mayor is escorted off the stage by security, and you’re distantly aware of cameras flashing.
“Are you okay?” Tim asks, pulling you up to stand as his eyes search your face.
“I’m fine,” you reply. “Are you?”
Tim shakes his head, and you smile.
“I don’t even care if you’re gonna be the death of me,” Tim murmurs.
He leans toward you, holding your face between his hands, and kisses your forehead. You’re both ignorant of the people watching you until Lucy shoves the man against the wall, and someone clears their throat.
“I, uh,” Angela begins. “I think we owe you an apology.”
“Me or her?” Tim asks, squaring his shoulders as he steps to your side.
“Both.”
“She’s the one for you,” Bishop realizes aloud. “I couldn’t see that past my own feelings.”
“I’m sorry about the decision,” you offer. “I fought for you, but I couldn’t make it work.”
“Didn’t fight very hard then,” Jackson grumbles.
“Watch it, boot,” Tim warns.
“No, it’s okay,” you interject. “I could have done more; I won’t deny that. But I’m confident that the plans we’re working on now will be far better than what you could have gotten had I succeeded this time.”
“What do you see in Tim?” Lucy asks as two other officers escort the apprehended gunman out of the room.
You look at Tim, and your smile grows when you answer, “Someone who saw me, and didn’t give up when I thought I wasn’t worthy of being seen or loved.”
“Do you want me to call a paramedic or anything?” Nolan inquires.
“I’m fine,” you assure him. “Not every day the desk jockey gets to save her cop boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” Angela begins, “what was that about, Timothy?”
Tim shrugs, bumping his arm against yours.
“I’m pretty sure that was Garrison Peters,” you say. “He works for one of the firms whose contract is about to expire and won’t see the station payday.”
“Which he’s mad about,” Bishop agrees. “But why Tim?”
“You said Garrison Peters?” Tim repeats. “Relation to Andrea?”
“Married, I think,” you answer.
“I arrested her for a RICO warrant. Lawyer argued she was obsessed with money and the jury indicted.”
“Hence why we didn’t want to use their firm!” you exclaim. “They’re corrupt!”
The five officers around you have different reactions to that revelation. Lucy says, “Oh,” and then grimaces. Angela and Bishop press their lips together and nod slowly. Jackson purses his lips but still looks like he’d rather hear it from someone who isn’t you. And Nolan mumbles something about contractors that you can’t decipher.
“Sorry,” Angela says first.
“I am too,” Bishop adds.
“Me, three,” Lucy offers.
“Sorry, and sorry again on behalf of… everybody,” Nolan says.
Jackson doesn’t apologize, but you smile at him regardless. “Thank you,” you reply.
“Thank you,” Tim whispers.
You rub his shoulder kindly before you drop your hand.
“I was supposed to have dinner with the mayor, but he’ll probably be in lockdown, if you’d like to join me,” you suggest.
“Absolutely not,” Tim interrupts. “You can all go home and plan better apologies. We’re going to dinner.”
“Tim,” Bishop says before he can leave. “You’re really good together.”
“I know.”
Tim leads you out of the room and interlaces his fingers with yours as he leads you to your office. He suggests a few restaurants worthy of his savior, but you don’t reply. In the privacy of your office, you sit against the corner of your desk and beckon him closer. You spread your hands over his chest when his legs hit your knees.
“That was terrifying,” you admit.
Tim sobers, lifting his hands to run his fingers along your forearms. “I’m sorry. I know that what you did was for me, but it was risky and reckless... I’m sorry it scared you.”
“What I did didn’t scare me. The idea of losing you did.”
Nodding, Tim drops his chin toward his chest and looks at you. “You saved my life. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“You saved mine first,” you whisper. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“What can I say? I’m hooked,” Tim replies, smiling brightly.
You scrunch your nose at his response, then murmur, “Nope.”
He scoffs, preparing to remind you that you’re together and you can’t push him away that easily. Before he can, you grip his shirt and pull him toward you, kissing him without a single thing between you. Tim Bradford is on your string, but you’re done pulling it because you’re hooked, too.
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
No Party Like a Costco Party
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!reader
Summary: You enjoy going to Costco, so Tim decides to take you shopping on your birthday. With a little help from your best friend, it turns into a party.
Warnings: just fluff!
Word Count: 1.9k+ words
“Tim!” Lucy calls as he walks into the bullpen.
He stops and watches her as she skips toward him. Even though he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, she continues smiling and bounces when she reaches him.
“What are you doing for my best friend’s birthday?” she asks.
“Nothing,” Tim answers. “I will be doing something for my girlfriend’s birthday, though.”
“Just admit that she likes me more than you.”
“No.”
“Tim,” Lucy groans. She punches his arm playfully, then ignores his offended glare as she asks, “What do you have in mind?”
Tim shrugs and admits, “I’m not sure yet. I was thinking I may just take her to Costco or something.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Wesley interjects.
“Why are you here?” Tim asks as he looks over. “And it’s none of your business, or yours, Lucy.”
“A trip to Costco is not romantic, Tim,” Wesley says. “But I have a client who needs my help. It seems you do, too, but Lucy can handle your girlfriend issues.”
“No one is handling anything!” Tim snaps.
“I’m with Wesley,” Angela comments from her desk.
“It never ends,” Tim sighs.
“She does love Costco,” Lucy agrees. “She’d enjoy going with you.”
“Wait,” Angela says. She chuckles as she looks up at Tim. “Your girlfriend, the shyest person I’ve ever met, likes going to Costco? The busiest store in existence?”
“Is it too late to back out of this conversation?” Tim asks.
“Absolutely,” Angela answers. “So, just a trip to Costco. That’s all the birthday girl gets?”
“I’d like to do more, but-“
“I’ve got it!” Lucy cheers, slapping Tim’s arm again.
“Stop hitting me!” he demands as he steps away from her.
“What if you surprise her at Costco? Like, her friends could ‘run into’ her while shopping, and then someone can have a cake or something at the café. It would be so fun, Tim!” Lucy suggests.
“That’s… it’s not a terrible idea,” Tim murmurs. “I don’t know how she’d feel about interacting with a bunch of people, though.”
“She loves us,” Angela reminds Tim. “Just a quick ‘hey, happy birthday’ and then she moves on. We don’t have to draw attention to her or anything.”
“Fine, yeah, let’s do it,” Tim agrees.
“Yay!” Lucy yells. “I’ll go invite the people she likes.”
Tim watches Lucy run through the bullpen and shakes his head. It’s a good thing you like Costco and Lucy, he thinks, because it’s certainly nothing he would have planned alone.
“What are you doing?” you ask softly.
Tim sets his phone aside and then places his arm back around you. As he pulls you against his side, he sighs.
“Checking to see how many seconds are left until your birthday,” he jokes. “Lucy had a question.”
“Is it going to be terrible?”
“It’s your birthday. It’s going to be great.”
Tim jostles you gently, and when you turn your face against his shoulder, you feel him chuckle. He enjoys making you shy, or simply reminding you of how shy you were when you first met. With your birthday coming up, you know that Tim has something planned. You can only hope that it’s a good surprise. As Tim pulls you closer, you listen to his heartbeat.
“I got Kojo treats at Costco today,” you tell him.
“Of course, you did,” Tim murmurs before he kisses your head.
“Go get ready, birthday girl,” Tim says.
He takes your plate to the kitchen, and you sneak Kojo a bite of your breakfast leftovers. Waking up to Tim making you breakfast was special, but since he told you that he had more planned for your birthday, you’ve grown more curious and more excited.
“To go where?” you ask.
“Shopping.”
You furrow your brows but stand and push your chair in regardless of your confusion. Tim isn’t a big fan of shopping, so you assume this particular shopping trip has to do with what day it is. After you’re dressed and ready, Tim takes your hand and leads you to his truck.
When he pulls into a turn lane, you feel confident you know where he’s taking you. You frequent Costco often; it's fun to browse and kill time in a place where you can disappear and go unnoticed every once in a while. Tim usually teases you for how much you use your Costco card, but he hasn’t made a single sarcastic comment today.
“Are we going to Costco?” you ask excitedly.
“We are,” Tim answers as he turns. “Unless you want to do something else.”
“No, this is great!”
Tim smiles and when he glances at you, you try to control your excitement and watch the road instead of him. You have a mental list of things you’d like to look at, and maybe treat yourself to since it is your birthday after all. Tim extends his hand over the console of his truck, and you happily lay your hand in his. He interlaces his fingers through yours and squeezes twice. The moment he parks, however, your hand is pulled from his as you exit the truck.
You walk through the entrance and take Tim’s hand again as you look at the promotional items in the front of the store. Tim watches you as you read signs and stop to touch an oversized stuffed animal. He knows what’s waiting for you inside, but seeing you so excited was worth the trip, he thinks.
“Well, look who it is.”
You turn quickly and smile when you see Angela. She pulls you into a hug as Tim and Wesley shake hands. They share a look, and you pinch your brows as you step back from Angela.
“Happy birthday,” she tells you. “Has Tim bought you anything yet?” “No,” you answer with a chuckle. “I’m just glad he finally came with me.”
“Tim Bradford saying no? I can’t imagine it.”
You laugh at Angela’s sarcasm, and Tim smiles at how happy you are. You’re always fun to be around, even if you are hiding against him because he made you shy, but birthday joy is a good look on you.
“There’s a sale on rings, Tim,” Wesley says.
Your eyes widen before you drop your gaze to the floor. There has been no discussion of getting engaged or married in your relationship with Tim, but it’s certainly somewhere you can see yourself going.
“It’s her birthday,” Tim chides. “Don’t do that to her.”
“Well, we have to get back to the kids,” Angela interjects. “They’ll riot soon if they don’t get their snacks. Enjoy the rest of your birthday!” “Thanks, Angela.”
You hug her once more and wave at Wesley before Tim lays his hands on your shoulders and steers you toward your favorite section of the store. He keeps a hand on you as you browse, moving when you do. It was a surprise to see someone you know, and on your birthday, no less, but you don’t think too much about the coincidence.
Until someone says, “Happy birthday!” down the aisle from you, at least.
“Hi, Sergeant Grey, Luna,” you greet.
You look toward Tim quickly, but he shrugs and lays his hand across your back.
“Will she ever call me anything other than Sergeant?” Wade asks Tim as Luna hugs you tightly.
“I’ve been trying to get her to call me Sergeant, but she won’t do it,” Tim laments.
“Ignore them,” Luna encourages you. “How’s the birthday going?”
“It’s great,” you answer. “Tim made me breakfast and hasn’t tortured me yet.”
“Yet,” Tim scoffs.
“We just ran into Angela and Wesley, too.”
“Small world,” Wade muses.
“Big city,” you argue, looking toward Tim.
“Do me a favor and buy yourself something amazing for your birthday, and I will see you at lunch next week,” Luna tells you. “Bye, Tim.”
Tim waves as they pass, and you cross your arms to look at him.
“What?” he asks with his brows raised.
“You’re doing something,” you accuse. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I am doing something,” Tim admits. “Loving you.”
You drop your arms and tip your head back, which Tim takes as an opportunity to wrap you in a bear hug. You grip the back of his shirt, somewhere between shy because of the public affection and relieved because you need a hug.
“Alright, let’s go find you something to buy,” Tim declares. “For me to buy for you, I mean.”
“You don’t have to,” you say quietly.
“It’s your birthday, and it’s my boyfriend-ly duty.”
“That’s not a word,” you mumble as he leads you to the next aisle.
You browse several aisles before you see someone else you know, and now you’re convinced that Tim has orchestrated this. After running into at least a dozen people that you know and choosing not one but three things that you like, you and Tim approach the checkout lanes. He pays for your gifts and takes your hand.
As he leads you to the café seating area, you see your best friend, Lucy. Tim grumbles as you release his hand to approach her. You stop short when you see a birthday cake sitting on the table beside her.
“Happy birthday!” she calls as she rounds the table to hug you. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“You did all of this?” you ask, looking between Tim and Lucy.
“It was Tim’s idea, I just helped,” she says.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Don’t get shy yet, you have half of Mid-Wilshire to share that cake with,” Tim replies.
On cue, everyone you’ve run into today approaches the table to give you more birthday wishes and a few gifts. The attention makes you shy, but they’re your friends, and you appreciate them and their kindness more than you can, or would, say.
Lucy passes you a piece of cake and stands beside you as everyone else begins eating.
“Was it really Tim’s idea?” you ask.
“Yeah. He said he was going to bring you to Costco, and I just recommended a cake,” she says. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for the cake; Tim ordered it. Oh! I also have a gift for you in my car, so don’t leave before I give it to you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. We’re best friends, and you are the kindest, most special person I have ever met. If anyone deserves this kind of love on their birthday, it’s you.”
You set your plate down to hug Lucy and only release her when Tim grabs your waist. He laughs when you lean against him but drops his head and whispers to ask if you’re okay. Very early in your relationship, he learned your tells. He knows when you’re overwhelmed, when you’re getting shy enough that he needs to give you a minute, and every other little thing about you.
“I’m great,” you answer. “Thank you for all of this.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
“Seriously, it is,” Wesley adds. “Making you use your Costco card to get into your birthday celebration was certainly… a choice.”
“It’s perfect,” you say. “And all my friends are here.” “Plus these people,” Lucy jokes as she gestures to everyone else.
“You’re just her best friend because you can carry both sides of the conversation, so she never gets shy with you,” Nyla teases.
“And our mutual disdain for Tim’s weird humour,” Lucy adds.
“What’s that?” Tim asks, tipping his head toward you. “You want to leave now? Okay, let’s go.”
You laugh as he tries to pull you away, but you’re enjoying your Costco birthday party too much to leave. When Wade offers to stand on the table and tell all the other customers that it’s your big day, however, you consider taking Tim up on that offer.
She's my wife
Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist
Tim Bradford x wife!reader Fandom: The Rookie
Summary: You are Tim's wife and join him to the station for the day, looking for a Metro recruit.
Fluff
A/N: I loooove this, I start to love writing fluff. Thank you for this request. I have so many ideas and I don't know where to start. Also, I'm looking forward to your requests. Thank you for your support and your feedback is more than welcomed and appreciated! Have a wonderful day, bubs and enjoy this story! Lots of love
Warnings: None, pure fluff, not proofread yet
Requested: Yes! Words: 3.8k Photo not mine, credits to the owner @renegadesstuff !
The familiar scent of stale coffee and printer ink hits you as soon as you step through the doors of the station. It's been years since you last set foot in that place, but the memories come rushing back with startling clarity. The station hasn't changed much—it's still a hive of activity, with officers rushing to and fro, phones ringing off the hook, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the halls.
As you make your way through the bustling room, you can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. This place holds so many memories for you—the late nights spent poring over case files, the adrenaline-fueled chases through the city streets, the quiet moments of comradery with your fellow officers. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet the memories are as vivid as ever.
You pause for a moment to take it all in, your gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings. The bullpen, with its rows of desks and cluttered bulletin boards, holds a special place in your heart. It's where you once stood as a training officer, guiding rookies through their first days on the job.
Tim Bradford was your favorite and a handful from the start—a troubled rookie who struggled to follow orders and grasp the basics of the job. You remember the frustration of trying to teach him the ropes, the countless hours spent drilling him on the rookie book, only for him to push back and resist at every turn.
You remember the determination in Tim's eyes, the way he refused to give up even when the odds seemed stacked against him. And despite his rebellious nature, there was something about him—a spark of raw talent and an unwavering sense of loyalty—that set him apart from the rest.
But amidst the nostalgia, there's a sense of purpose driving you forward. You're here on official business, after all— you were sent there to find a new recruit to join Metro. And while part of you wishes you could stay lost in the memories of the past, another part knows that you have a job to do.
You're greeted by familiar faces at every turn. The joy radiating from your former colleagues as they see you again warms your heart, and you can't help but return their smiles with genuine affection.
Among the crowd, you notice Tim watching you from across the room, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. You shoot him a reassuring smile, silently promising to explain everything later.
Lucy stands beside Tim, a look of bewilderment on her face. "Who's that?" she whispers to Tim, nodding in your direction.
Tim's brow furrows for a moment as he studies you, then he turns back to Lucy with a shrug. "That's Y/N," he answers simply. "She works with Metro."
Lucy's eyes widen in surprise, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Tim. "What's she doing here?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.
Tim gives a nonchalant shrug, trying to downplay the situation. "No clue," he replies, though a hint of curiosity lingers in his tone. "Maybe she's just passing through."
As Tim watches you from across the room, a wave of warmth washes over him. Seeing you here, in the midst of his workplace, brings back a flood of memories—of late-night patrols, of shared laughter, of the bond you forged as rookie and TO. Despite the hustle and bustle of the station, his attention is drawn solely to you, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of your beauty.
It's an understatement that he adores you. He loves you with every breath, every heart beat and he couldn't get enough of you. Since you were recruited for Metro, he missed you every shift, longing for you to make his duties more bearable.
There's a softness in his eyes as he approaches, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Despite the secrecy surrounding your relationship, seeing you there fills him with a sense of comfort and belonging. In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the station, all that matters is the connection you share—a bond that transcends the boundaries of your professional lives.
"Hey there," he greets you warmly, "What are you doing here?"
Seeing him there, in his element, reminds you of the journey you've taken together—from a rookie and his training officer to partners in both crime and love.
You return Tim's smile with one of your own, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, you know, just thought I'd drop by and say hi," you reply casually, purposely avoiding his question. "How's your day been?"
There's a twinkle in your eye as you meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the love and understanding that binds you together. Despite the complexities of your situation, there's an unspoken agreement between you—a shared understanding of the sacrifices you've made for the sake of your relationship.
Tim chuckles at your playful evasion, rolling his eyes. "Smooth as always," he replies, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone. "But seriously, what are you doing here?"
You feign innocence, batting your eyelashes at Tim with exaggerated sweetness. "You know I can't tell you." you tease, knowing full well that your response will only fuel his curiosity further.
Tim lets out a mock sigh, shaking his head in amusement. "Fine, keep your secrets," he says with a playful grin. "But just remember, I know where you sleep at night."
You laugh at his playful threat, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Wouldn't dream of it," you reply with a wink, before turning your attention to Lucy, who's been watching the exchange with interest.
A curious expression played on her face as Tim takes the opportunity to introduce you. "Officer Chen, meet Y/N," he says, gesturing to you with a fond smile. "She's a pain in the ass sometimes, but if you ignore her, she's ok."
"Nice to meet you, Lucy," you say, your tone friendly and inviting as you offered Lucy a warm smile, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard so much about you."
Lucy returns your smile, her curiosity piqued. "Nice to meet you," she replies, shaking your hand. "How do you know Tim, if you don't mind me asking?"
You glance at Tim with a mischievous twinkle in your eye, a playful smirk playing at your lips. "Oh, you know," you reply cryptically, earning a raised eyebrow from Tim. "We go way back. Let's just say he owes me a few favors."
Tim lets out an exasperated sigh, knowing full well that you're enjoying teasing him. "Don't listen to her, Chen," he says with a chuckle.
"You should listen to me if you want to survive him." you winked at his rookie " I created the monster and I'm the only one who knows how to defeat him."
Tim's eyebrows shoot up in mock indignation, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hey now, watch it," he retorts, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, she doesn't need any help from you."
You laugh at Tim's exaggerated reaction, shooting him a knowing look. "Oh, I'm sure Lucy can handle herself just fine," you reply with a wink, earning a chuckle from Lucy.
"Wait–" the rookie began as realisation hits "You are Tim's TO?"
You glanced at your husband, smiling brightly as he put his grumpy expression on, "Guilty as charged."
As Lucy's eyes widen in shock and excitement, she can barely contain her enthusiasm. Her mind is racing with questions as she tries to process the realization that she's standing face-to-face with the legendary training officer.
The rookie turns to Tim, her expression incredulous. "You never mentioned her before!" she exclaims.
Tim crossed his arms above his chest, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. "Because my life is none of your business, Officer Chen," he retorts.
She faced you with a barrage of questions, her enthusiasm didn't wane, "What was Tim like as a rookie? I heard he wasn't so keen on following orders, is it true?"
You smiled at her, starting to like her more and more. She's definitely giving Tim a hard time. What you know from Tim and seeing her so curious and exited, you knew she has what it takes to be a successful cop.
Before you can respond, Tim interrupts, his irritation growing by the second. "Alright, that's enough, Chen," he barks, his tone firm and commanding. "Shop, now!"
"Yes, sir."
Lucy's excitement fades as she reluctantly obeys Tim's orders, shooting you an apologetic look before hurrying off to prepare for the patrol. As she disappears from view, Tim lets out a frustrated sigh, the grumpiness lifting slightly as he turns back to you.
"She seems nice," you comment, nodding towards where Lucy disappeared. "She's a good kid."
Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair as he considers your words. "Yeah, you're probably right," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
You reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a reassuring smile playing on your lips. "I know, and I know that sometimes a little kindness goes a long way," you say gently. "She'll appreciate it in the long run."
As Tim gazes at you, a mixture of admiration and gratitude flickers in his eyes. He's more than just a grumpy, hard-to-please man—he's a devoted husband, a dedicated cop, and a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Despite his tough exterior, there's a vulnerability in his gaze.
The sun filters through the windows of the station, its golden rays dance across Tim's face, casting a warm glow that accentuates his rugged features. He appears even more handsome in this moment, his chiseled jawline and piercing gaze illuminated by the soft light.
His sandy blonde hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo of golden warmth around his head. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, soften in the gentle light, revealing a depth of emotion that takes your breath away.
As Tim searched your face, you're bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, the sunlight highlighting the delicate contours of your face and the warmth of your smile. Your eyes, a mesmerizing shade, sparkle with mischief and warmth, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
He peaked around at the officers, everyone minding their business, before he leaned in, his warm breath caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hand gently cups your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive, as if he never wants to let you go. You feel the soft brush of his lips against yours, a gentle yet insistent pressure that ignites a fire deep within your soul.
As the kiss deepens, you feel his other hand slide around your waist, pulling you closer until there's barely an inch of space between you. His touch is electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you melt into his embrace.
His lips move against yours with a hunger that matches your own, each kiss a testament to the love and longing that burns between you. There's a raw intensity to his touch, a desperate need to be as close to you as humanly possible.
For a brief instant, time seems to stand still as you respond eagerly, your heart racing as you lean into the kiss, savoring the warmth of his embrace. Despite its brevity, the intensity of the moment leaves you dizzy with desire, longing for more even as you reluctantly pull away.
Before the moment can linger, Tim's attention is drawn to something behind you. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you realize that Lucy is watching from afar, a curious expression on her face, sided by her mouth forming an "o" shape filled with surprise.
Tim's lips curl into a wry smile as he leans in to murmur in your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. "Looks like we've got a little shadow," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. "She's gonna be a pain in my ass all day!"
You laugh softly at Tim's comment, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, you did sign up for this when you became her TO," you tease, a playful glint in your eyes. "Just be nice, okay? She's just curious."
Tim rolls his eyes at your advice, but there's a hint of affection in his gaze as he gazes at you. "Fine, I'll try to play nice," he concedes with a grin. "But no promises if she starts asking too many questions."
As your husband heads off for patrol with Lucy, you find yourself seated across from Sergeant Grey in his office, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos of the precinct. His office is tidy yet lived-in, with stacks of paperwork neatly organized on his desk and a few personal mementos scattered about—a photo of his family, a commendation plaque from his years of service.
Wade offers you a warm smile as you settle into your seat, "Y/N, it's been a while. Think the last time I saw you was at your wedding?"
You nod in agreement, "It hasn't been that long. But you know Metro, it keeps me busy."
"Well, it's always a pleasure to have you around." Sergeant Grey's words of praise for your time as an officer at the station warm your heart, "You were one of the best we had," he continues, sincerity evident in his tone. "It's a shame to lose you to Metro."
As the conversation progresses, you take a deep breath before broaching the subject of your visit. "Sir, I'm here on official business," you explain, your tone serious. "Metro is recruiting, and I'm here to find the best officer for the job."
Grey nods in understanding, "I see. And do you have anyone in mind?" he asks, leaning forward slightly.
You hesitate for a moment before responding. "Actually, I do," you admit, your gaze meeting his. "I think Officer Bradford would be the best fit for Metro."
He considers your words for a moment before responding. "I have to say, I agree with you, Tim would make an excellent addition to Metro."
There's a hint of hesitation in your eyes as he speaks, and you can tell that he senses there's more to your recommendation than meets the eye. "Is there something else on your mind, Y/N?" he asks, his tone gentle but probing.
You paused, choosing your words carefully before responding. "Well, sir, it's just... I'm not sure if it's appropriate for me to recommend Tim," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I don't want it to seem like a conflict of interests."
You found yourself grappling with a mix of emotions. There's a deep-rooted sense of pride your work, coupled with a genuine desire to see Tim succeed in his career.
"Trust me, Y/N, Officer Bradford's qualifications speak for themselves." he leaned back on his chair, "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it from here. We both know you and Tim keep your private life apart, and I'll make sure Metro knows this decision is based solely on Tim's achievements."
Sergeant Grey's words sink in, a rush of relief floods through you, washing away some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at your nerves. It's comforting to know that your integrity as an officer won't be called into question, that your personal connection with Tim won't overshadow his merits.
With a grateful smile, you nod in appreciation, the knot of worry in your stomach loosening with each word he speaks. "Thank you, Sir."
"Now go find your husband!"
In the dimly lit interior of the shop, the tension between Tim and Lucy was palpable. Lucy's curiosity burned bright, fueled by suspicions and unanswered questions.
"So..." Lucy ventured, breaking the uneasy silence. "I saw you and Y/N kissing, back at the station. Is she your girlfriend?"
Tim's jaw clenched at the inquiry, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "That's none of your business, Chen," he shot back, his tone gruff.
Lucy persisted, undeterred by his dismissive tone. "Come on, Tim," she pressed. "You can't just brush this off. I obviously know there's something going on between you two."
But Tim remained stoic, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I said it's none of your business," he repeated, his voice terse.
Lucy gaze lingered on him, studying his face. She couldn't read anything but irritation caused by her intrusion into his private life. She searched his hands, no sight of any ring, so the possibility of you being his wife dropped.
"Do you like her?" she insisted.
"What's the proper procedure for securing a crime scene?" he replied to her question, avoiding giving any details about you.
"Come on. You can't avoid this forever. Are you and her just colleagues, or is there something more?"
Tim's irritation simmers beneath the surface, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. He had hoped to avoid this line of questioning, to keep his personal life separate from his professional one. But Lucy's relentless curiosity had pushed him to his breaking point.
"What's the recommended procedure for securing a firearm during an arrest?"
She couldn't shake the feeling of defeat, knowing deep down that Tim wouldn't give her the answers she sought. Despite her best efforts to uncover the truth about Tim's relationship with you, she found herself hitting a dead end.
"I saw the way you look at her. You have feelings for her?"
"When searching a suspect, what areas of their body should you prioritize for pat-downs?"
"Fine. I'll shut up."
Confusion clouded Lucy's thoughts as she struggled to make sense of the situation. She couldn't understand why Tim was so guarded about his personal life, especially when it came to someone who seemed to hold such significance to him. It left her feeling unsettled, a nagging sense of curiosity gnawing at her.
As he focuses on the road ahead, he can't help but feel annoyed by Lucy's persistence. He knows she means well, but he's not ready to share the intimate details of his relationship with the woman he loves. He just wants to focus on their job, to keep their partnership strictly professional.
As lunchtime approached, the bustling street food area near the station came to life with the sound of chatter and the aroma of sizzling food. Amidst the crowd, you found an empty table, enjoying the inviting atmosphere, with colorful umbrellas providing shade from the midday sun as you waited for Tim.
Your husband approached the table where you were seated, a sense of defeat hung heavy in the air, exhausted from all of his rookie's questions. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, a tangible reminder of the connection you shared.
As the conversation turns to you, Tim leans in with a curious glint in his eyes. "So, what were you doing at the station earlier?"
"Metro sent me to find a recruit," you confess, your gaze meeting Tim's.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "And did you find one?"
Angela rises from her seat, flashing a smile, "I hate to break up the party, but duty calls. I'll catch you guys later."
You nod understandingly, bidding her farewell with a wave as she heads off to resume her patrol.
You return your attention to Tim, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah. You."
Tim's eyes widen in disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and excitement. "Me? Are you serious?"
Nyla's figure blended into the bustling crowd as she disappears down the street with her rookie, leaving you and Tim alone.
You give him a knowing smirk. "Dead serious. They've been considering you for a while. Sending me down to the station was just a formality—a test, to see if I was ready for a promotion or something."
"You're getting promoted?"
"Uh-huh."
"That's awesome, babe. I'm proud of you."
As the lunch break comes to an end for Tim, he and his rookie prepare to go on patrol again. They stand by the patrol car, gearing up for their shift.
"Lucy, you're driving," Tim says, tossing her the keys with a grin. "Show me what you got."
Lucy's eyes light up with excitement as she catches the keys, nodding eagerly. "You got it, Officer Bradford. Shotgun!"
While Tim is in the shop, double-checking some equipment, you lean over the car door, catching his attention. "Hey," you say softly, a hint of concern in your voice. "Be safe out there, okay? And have a good time."
Tim gives you a reassuring smile, placing a hand over yours on the door. "Always am, love. Don't worry about me."
Just as the car starts to move, you lean in closer, your voice barely a whisper against the noise of the street. "And Tim... I'm pregnant."
Tim's eyes widen in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected news. You placed a playful kiss on his cheek, before the car pulls away, you watch Tim drive off with a mixture of excitement and fear.
You were scared of his reaction, delivering him the news this way gave you time to process and turn all the possible scenarios upside down.
He meets your gaze one last time before the car disappears down the street, a rush of emotions flooding his mind—joy, excitement, and a touch of nervousness. But above all, there's a deep sense of love and gratitude for the life you've created together.
"Did you get your TO pregnant?" Lucy asks, her tone a mixture of surprise and incredulity.
Tim's jaw tightens, a flash of irritation crossing his features at the inappropriate question. He takes a deep breath, gathering his composure before responding firmly.
"She's my wife," Tim states, his voice leaving no room for further inquiry. "Now, shut up and drive."
He reaches up to where his uniform shirt collar meets his neck, pulling out a small chain with a wedding ring and some dog tags hanging from it. It's a subtle gesture, but one that holds immense significance—a symbol of the most important moments of his life, from fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan to marrying you.
Lucy's eyes widen in realization, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she realizes her mistake. Without another word, she focuses on the road ahead, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Tim sits back in his seat, his mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. Despite the initial shock, a sense of pride and excitement fills him at the prospect of becoming a father. And as the patrol car speeds through the city streets, Tim's thoughts are consumed with thoughts of the future.
𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲
𝐌𝐬.𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥
Pairings- Black!OC x Abbott Elementary Cast, later Black!OC x Manny (Can be read as x Reader though!)
Summary- Pilot Episode Experience with Naoya Lovel
Warnings- Swearing, kids, mixed race reader( those aren’t warnings really, just what to expect)
Jazzie’sNotes!- let me know what you guys think!! I’ve been really obsessed with Abbott Elementary recently and I’m contemplating if I want to write S1&S2 just to get to the Manny season. I want to get there fast but I know what won’t be possible with two seasons worth of writing. Let me know what you guys think I should do.
Word Count- 6,358
“Okay, so you wouldn't put the number on the bottom because that's what?” The older woman asked, drawing out her words as she stood in front of her fourth-grade class, pointing at the whiteboard behind her with her yardstick.
“The denominator.” The class answered.
“Correct, and what do we call the one on top?”
“The numerator.”
“Yes! You guys are killing this lesson.” She smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. She caught the camera crew in the corner of her eyes and then turned to them. “Or should I say I’m killing this lesson?” She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she posed. It was silent for a moment as they all watched her just smile.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” She’s asked, looking at one of the guys behind the camera. He nodded, moving the camera along with him, causing her to smile and adjust her glasses. “Why, thank you.”
“Hello! My name is Naoya Lovel. Pronounced Now-Ya, it’s Japanese because I’m half Japanese. Don’t ask why I’m half Japanese in Philly, it’s a long story.” She sighed as she shook her head.
“Well, actually, let me tell you the story because it’s actually kind of crazy.” She chuckled, starting to explain, but it then cut to another clip of her in the class.
“Ms.Lovel, we ran out of paper towels.” A student said, standing in front of her desk with paint on the palms of his hands. Noaya looked up, at him, a slight frown on her face. “Ohh, okay, well I have some in my desk.” She started, pulling open her desk drawer. The camera angled down to catch the empty towel box staring back at her. She smirked up at them awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. “What, I have a constant runny nose.”
“As a teacher, you teach kids how to solve problems while solving your own. In your personal life and at school. And in this school, there are a lot.”
“Ms.Lovel, I need paper towels too.” Another student said, showing her blue and pink palms to her teacher. Noaya then stood from her seat, looking around her room. “Okay, okay class. Give me one sec.” She said, nervously looking around her room to solve her paper towel problem. She the. Saw a stray beach towel near the window on her small bookshelf. “Oh! Here we are, guys.” She said, rushing over to the towel and snatching it up.
“This could be a lesson too.” She smiled excitedly and grabbed a pair of large scissors from her desk. “I probably shouldn’t have these just sitting out.” She mumbled to herself, giving the camera a sideways glance. “So class, this is going to be a hands-on moment. If there are almost thirty of you, how many pieces would I need to cut this into for you guys to share?” She asked, looking at all of them. There was a moment before anyone said anything, the kids thinking over their answer. Then, some of their hands shot up. Naoya flashed the cameras behind her a quick smile before turning back to the kids.
“Noaya, Jacob, and I came in last year with 20 other teachers. We’re three of the four left so…trauma bonding, I guess?” Janine said, in regards to the other girl.
“Yeah, I taught for two years before I got here, I transferred from Addington to here because those people are a bunch of stuck-up freaks who are just in it for a little extra on their check.” She said with a smirk. “And that’s not what I’m here for, I’m here to change lives.” She boated, folding her arms.

“Hey, Melissa, can you please tell “Ta-Nehisi Quotes” here that “white boy” is a term of endearment from the corner store people?” Janie said as she walked into the break room on the second floor.
“Ooh, cheese steaks?” Naoya questioned as she looked up from her papers, knowing the full situation after only hearing the words ‘white boy’ and ‘corner store’.”
“For Zach Ertz, yeah.” Melissa started, turning around with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. “For him. It’s an insult.” She smirked, then paused at the sight of the cameras in her face.
“Well, you guys, I need a new rug. Mine is officially done.” Janie said.” Coming take a seat right next to the working woman.
“Mhmm! Me too.” Jacob started, taking a seat on the other side of her. “I shook mine out and all the asthma kids had to go to the nurse's office.” This conversation caused her to raise her head, placing her work aside and adjusting her glasses as she listened.
“Yeah, mine’s busted.” Melissa started. “And you can’t class up a rug like you can a couch with a nice coat of plastic.”
“You guys have rugs? All we have is a little mat.” Naoya started, looking between all of them. They all cringed at her words, but couldn’t say more before someone’s loud voice cut through the air.
“Hey-yo! What it does, baby-boo?” Ava yelled as she walked into the break room and over to where they were sitting. “What yall think about this little film crew I bought in here.”
“Distracting makes our jobs harder,” Melissa said disinterestedly, shooting the crew a glare.
“I wish I would have known this was going to be a video thing, I would have made myself look better,” Naoya mumbled, causing the camera to turn her way. She smiled, making her face appear happier than usual.
“But exciting. We about to be on TV.” Ava said, looking between them all.
“Because they are covering underfunded, loosely managed, public schools in America.” Barbra interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No press is bad press, Barb.” Ava practically disregarded the woman’s claim, continuing to smile at the camera. “Look at Mel Gibson. Still thriving.” She laughed. “ “Daddy’s Home 2”? Hilarious!” She looked around the room, either expecting people to laugh with or or just so confined in her large ego that she didn’t care if they laughed or not.
“Ava’s the worst person I know,” Noaya stated. “I’ve never seen her show an ounce of care about anything other than money. Which is a terrible mindset to have as a principal because you’re literally in the brokeest position of power.”
“There you are.” Ms.Schwartz sighed as she rushed into the room, spotting Ava. “Ava, can I talk to you?” The woman was out of breath as she stood before the principal, and her attire was disheveled. “I-I need an aid. I’m outnumbered there. The kids are crazy.” She ranted this wild look in her eyes. “One of the kids told me to ‘mind my six’ this morning, I don’t know what that means! I need help!” She ranted. Ava placed and hand on her shoulder.
“Calm down.” The darker woman said, cutting Ms. Schwartz off. “They’re just kids. And, besides, aids cost money, and we don’t have that.” She said before flashing a quick smile at the cameras. “Right, but I just—” Ms. Schwartz started again.
“Do you want to split your salary with somebody else?” Ava asked, leaning closer and angling both of them away from the cameras.
“No.” The other woman said dejected.
“No!” Ava cut her off before she could continue to rant. “No, I didn’t think so.”
“Well, if we can’t get aides, maybe we can get new rugs?” Janine chimed up, standing from her seat.
“All I’m hearing is “new, new, new, need, need, need,” Ava answered. “And yet, Barb, one of our best and most senior teachers here.” She continued, walking over to the older woman who sat at the table with Melissa and drank her coffee. “She never complains. What is your secret, Barb?”
“Knowing there’s not much you can do, Ava.” The woman said with a sarcastic smile. But Ava didn’t care to hear her condescending tone.
“So understanding.” The principal smiled, looking around the room. “Be like Ms.Howard, people.” That was all she said before she left the room.
Noaya shook her head as she started to collect her things, knowing the bell would be ringing anytime soon.
“But, I’m not Ms.Howard.” Ms.Schwartz cried from where she stood.
“Ohh, Tina, look.” Janine started, walking over to the stressed woman. “Try some counting exercises, between one and forty the kids start to quiet down.” The other woman gave a slight nod before she exited the room, still in obvious distress. “You, know, a little support might help make things happen, ladies,” Janie said, turning around to face the older two women in the room.
“My support was gonna do about as much as that five-year-old bra you’ve got on right there,” Barbra said as she pushed in her chair. The camera then cuts to Naoya staring at the camera, her jaw clenched. Janine looked down at her chest for a slip second, before covering it up with her sweater and deciding to ignore the woman’s bra statement. “Hey, it’s not impossible to get things. Melissa asked for those new toy cash registers for her classroom and got them.”
“Yeah, those aren’t toys.” The Italian woman stared as she put on her coat. “I know a guy who wired a Walmart demolition. I got a guy for everything. I know a guy right now working on the stadium build. Need rebar?” She asked, looking around the room.
Noya just shook her head.
“No,” Janine answered.
“Melissa is resourceful, capable.” Ms. Howard started, looking between all the younger teachers. Naoya’shead jerked back at what she was insinuating but before she could say anything, Janine placed a hand on her shoulder and started talking.
“Well, I think the younger teachers are capable.”
“Really? Then why is it that Ms.Schwartz’s hair is falling out? Why does Jacob here need a smoking break every five minutes?” The woman sassed, gesturing over to the male beside her.
“I switched to an herbal vape.” He tried to defend himself.
“And why can’t any of you stick it out longer than two years? More turnovers than a bakery.” She hissed before her and Melissa walked out of the door. Once it shut behind them, Naoya turned to her friends beside her.
“I almost lose my job every day dealing with the people here.” She shook her head, resting her butt on the table behind her, the other two following suit.
“You know what? Hell, I think we should still try for rugs.” Jacob’s said.
“Yeah.” Janine agreed.
“You know, before I taught here, I was in Zimbabwe.” Jacob started, causing Noaya to stand up completely and begin to walk to the door. “I was going Teachers Without Boarders, and what I learned—.”
“Jacob.” Noaya cut in, turning to face the two of them. “What did we say you about, like, not talking about your time in Africa?” She said, gesturing between her and Janine. The boy stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate answer.
“We told you to stop. Yeah, it’s weird.” Janine finished, looking over at the male.
“I have an immense amount of respect for my elders, including the ones I work with.” Naoya smiled at the cameras. “But Mrs.Howard has a smart mouth on her. A mouth that has never been directed at me.” She continued to smile, although strained, and raised her hands in mock defense. “But the day it is the day I got to prison.” And although she was finished, she was cut off by the sound of quick hurried footsteps making their way around the corner. She turned around just in time to catch Janine with a student.
“Noaya, come quick, there’s a fight.” The older woman got out as best as she could, although out of breath. Naoya ran around the corner, practically leaving the child and shirt woman in the dust.
“Damn, she’s fast,” Janine said, briefing glancing at the kids next to her before rushing to follow the running woman.
“What the hell is going on here?” Naoya yelled as she entered the hectic scene with a bat in her hands. She saw the crazed look the teachers were giving her and she shrugged. “I heard there was a fight, I brought it just in case.”
“Where did you get that? I was right behind you.” Janie asked, out of breath with her hands on her knees.
“I didn’t know she had it in her like that.” Melissa nodded a proud smirk on her lips. “I like her.”
“That’s beside the point, what happened?” Naoya asked, looking at the older white woman standing in front of a child. “He hit me first!” Ms.Schwartz said, pointing at the boy across from her.
“Liar!” The boy yelled back at her, being held back by Ms.Howard.
“I’m a liar? I'M A LIAR?” Ms.Schwartz asked a crazed look in her eyes, her gaze solely trained on the little boy.
“I can’t believe she hit a kid,” Noaya said, shock written all over her face as she folded her arms. “I mean, I threaten that I will but I never actually do it.” She shrugged.
“Okay!” Ava yelled, interrupting the conversation between the small group of teachers. “So, not good. Ms.Schwartz was out of line and clearly didn’t know how to handle her class.” The woman sighed.
“You hired her.” Melissa spat back.
“And fired her,” Ava responded. “They give me a lot of power around here. It’s crazy.” The woman smirked.
Melissa and Noaya both gave the camera a look of disbelief.
“In the meantime, Mr.Johnson will be watching her class.” Ava finished.
“Mr.Johnson the janitor?” Naoya spoke up. “Our conspiracy theorist janitor? Teaching social studies? Do we not see the problem with this?” She asked, looking around at the group.
“I think maybe we should alert the school district to this,” Jacob spoke up, getting spins of approval from the rest. “I mean, a child was harmed.” He tried to finish before Ava cut in.
“Hey! Harmed?” She questioned. “I handled this. No need to let them know that a child was harmed on my wa—” She stopped, remembering that she was being recorded, and looked towards the camera. “On the school's watch, to be clear.” She clarified.
“Ava, this is not handled,” Janine spoke up. “There is a 70-year-old custodian who voted for Kanye teaching social studies right now.” The woman stressed, pointing down the hall. “We need help. Look, I know we don’t have any money—“
“Okay!” Ava cut her off. “Alright. I’ll make a small emergency budget request to the district, and then you guys can get pencils and hire aides or whatever else you need.”
“So, even rugs?” Janine asked her entire demeanor from earlier changing at the woman’s words.
“Sure! Just email a request.” Ava replied.
“Okay! I can- I can write an email.” Janine smiled excitedly.”
“Another day in principal life.” Ava smiled at the cameras before walking away, horribly singing some old song. “I believe the children are our future.”
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“Um…Hello?” An unfamiliar voice called out as she came into the school building, making their way to stand in front of the desk. “I’m looking for Ms.Coleman.” The man said. Melissa looked up at him. “Oh, yeah she’s—“ She was cut off by Ava rushing up next to her.
“Hello.” Again said flirtatiously, looking the man up and down.
“Hi, I’m Gregory Eddie. I’m the sun for the teacher who, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at the papers he pulled from his briefcase. “Pinter a student.” The man said worriedly, looking back up at her.
“Oh! You’re the sub.” Ava said. “Forgive me, I thought one of my colleagues here hired a stripper for me.” Ava laughed off, dismissing the looks Melissa and Barbra gave her. “Okay.” That was all Gregory could say to that, giving the woman obvious judgmental looks.
“Nice to meet you, young man.” Barbra offered him a kind smile.
“Yeah, nice to meet you, Ryan,” Melissa said, staring at the together papers.
“It’s Gregory.”
“Eh, let’s see how long you’ll be here.” She said, only flexing up after she was done stapling. “Then I’ll remember your name. Okay, Tim?”
Gregory didn’t even have time to fully digest the interactions he just had with the women before him before Jacob came around the corner. “Yes!” He smiled, stalking up to the man. “My dude.” He said, arms open for some sort of hug but was cut short by Gregory putting his hand out. “Oh, yeah,” Jacob said, placing his hand on the one offered out to him. “Keeping it profesh. I like that.” He smiled, leaning against the counter. “I’m Jacob. It’s nice to see another male teacher in here. It’s not a lot of us. Hey, now I got somebody to talk sports with. You like women’s tennis?” The paler man asked, before shooting the camera a sideways glance. “Or, as I call it, you know, regular tennis.”
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Naoya was walking the halls, whistling a tune with her bad over her shoulders when she came across a tall, good-looking man in a gray sweater. Hearing her, the man turned around to see a tall, light-skinned woman with a large, light brown puff ponytail at the back of her head. She had on specs that covered most of her face, enlarging her eyes. She was dressed in a slightly baggy pair of dark wash denim jeans with brown shoes that matched the brown in her green sweater, paired with a white shirt underneath. Seeing the mysterious man, she furrowed her brows at him from down the hall.
“Uh, hello.” The man waved awkwardly from down the hall.
Naoya waved back as she made her way closer to the man. “Uh, hi. Are you lost?” She asked, slowing down when she got in front of him. “In a school building?…And smelling like pee and/or vomit. I’m calling security.” She started to back up and pull out her phone, or even yell before she stopped and frowned. “Oh wait, I am security.” She said, moving her bat to her good hand getting ready to swing.
“Wait!” The man yelled, sticking out his hands in defense. “I’m a sub! I’m here to fill in for the woman who kicked the kid.” He defended.
Naoya visibly relaxed as she looked the man up and down, taking in his formal attire. “Okay.” She said, dropping her defensive pose. “That still doesn’t explain the smell.” She said, giving the man a disgusted once over. Gregory stuttered to get an answer, embarrassed by the cameras and such an awkward situation in front of another beautiful woman.
“It’s a long story. A broken toilet, a student wet his pants, another one threw up.” The man shrugged, a look of disgust crossing his face as he thought it all over. At his words, Noaya nodded with a look of understanding.
“No, yeah. I get it. Well, um, congratulations on being here considering…” She trailed off, gesturing around the school and then to him. “If you need anything at all, I’m at the very end of the hall. I'm Naoya Lovel, and I teach fourth grade. I’ll be here to help any way I can, I am known for having everything anyone might ever need, so.” She shrugged and began walking away, pat him, and to her class. The man nodded, a sliver of a smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on the spot she just left. Catching the camera out of the corner of his eye, she quickly straightened up and then turned the opposite way to face her. “May I ask why you’re carrying a bat?” He asked.
Naoya stopped walking, the bad still in her hand as she angled her body slightly to look back at him. “No, you may not.” She said with a smile before continuing to walk away and into her classroom. Gregory just nodded and walked into his room as well.
“Today was utterly disgusting, but she and Janine seem nice.” He smiled slightly.
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“I got a good feeling about this,” Jacob smirked at Naoya and Janine as they and the rest of the teachers gathered outside at the entrance of the school. It had something to do with Ava needing them to see the improvements she made to the school. “Right? Me too!” Janine said excitedly. Naoya rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her pockets due to the cold weather.
“I wish I could live in the blissful ignorance you guys call optimism.” She said, looking between her two friends. They only rolled their eyes at the girl, who was usually a pessimistic person, so they didn’t take her words too seriously.
“Good morning!” Ava said to all the teachers before her, who were obviously in no good mood. “Good Morning!” Janine was the only one to respond.
“Gregory.” Ava finished, giving the man a look. Noaya furrowed her brows slightly, throwing the man a sideways glance.
“The district was so moved by my plea that they approved the emergency budget and sent us the money right away,” Ava said to the group. The crowd started clapping, Jacob and Janine were genuinely happy while most were in shock that the district pulled through.
“Okay, we could have hired aides, we could have got rugs.” Ava continued as the clapping died down. “But then I thought, “No. We need something more immediate.” She said, her words causing Naoya to nod her head as she began slowly making her way away from the group. She knew this wasn’t going to end well, and this was her stopping herself from throwing her loafers at Ava’s head.
“Oh, no, no. The rugs are immediate.” Janie spoke up. “They’re like instant Xanax for kids. I explained it all in my email.” She told the group as she made her way to extract her phone from her purse.
“Girl, who told you to send an email?” Ava asked, looking down the steps at the shorter woman. Jannie stopped what she was doing and glared at Ava. “You did.” She hissed, looking at her confused.
“Anyways, I always feel better when I get my hair done.” Ava continued, not caring for what Janine had to say, as she showed off her new blonde number. “Thus, I do better work, like I’m doing now.” She smiled at them. “You know, fix the outside, the inside takes care of itself.” She then gestured up to the giant tarp over the building, the man pulling it down to show a sign.
It was a giant Willard R. Abbott Elementary sign with Ava on it, leaning onto the letters. The teachers just stood there and looked up at the sign, no words were said between any of them. But they all had the same thought.
What the fuck?
“Yall seeing this?” Ava asked, copying her pose that was on the sign.
“A plastic sign?” Janine asked, looking between the woman and the sign.
“Thank God for the school district, because they gave us $3,000 and I had to spend all of it.” Ava said as if she didn’t care about the severity of the words she just said.
“You spent all of the money on this?!” Janie asked in disbelief.
“Rush job, can you believe this quality?” The terrible principal continued.
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“This is fucking ridiculous, she has gone too far,” Naoya said as she, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory rushed back into the school.
“Somebody needs to do something before I get my bat back out. Actually, Forget the bat, I’m gonna go get a gu—.”
“Okay! Yes.” Jacob cut her off, trying to ignore the scared look Noaya received from Janine and Gregory, while she just continued to sit in her anger, not even seeing them. “Somebody, anybody but you, should do something.” The man said to the angry woman.
“You know what. I’m gonna do something.” Janine said, as stored up and Naoya. Well, maybe not as much but still fired up.
“Okay, alright. Whatever you do, I will co-sign it.” Jacob encouraged. “Yes!” Janine said. “That is how change works. Someone does something and somebody co-signs it.” He finished.
“I want Jannie to succeed in what her plan is because Ava needs to be out in her place, “professionally”, or whatever Jacob said,” Naoya stated, rolling her eyes. “But I also want her to prove something to Barb. For her sake. Because Janine really needs a mother figure in her life and the constant groveling for Barb’s praise is starting to make me want to choke.” She finished with a shrug. “That’s my girl though, I love her.”
“Hey, you two, wait up! I’m going out to lunch too.” Janie called out to Melissa and Bard as they walked down the hall. The camera caught Naoya, who rolled her eyes at the situation she was just talking about making an appearance as she walked after Janine.
“Oh yeah, where are you going for lunch pip-squeak? Bird feeder?” Melissa joked, putting her purse over her shoulder.
“Thought you’d be working on your next miracle from Saint Ava.” Barbra pushed.
“Ha ha, No.” The shorter woman defended herself. “I don’t think I’ll need anything from Ava ever again.” Janine smiled, her words causing the other three women to look confused.
“What does that mean?” Naoya chimed in from behind them, ready to go out for lunch as well.
“Well, I emailed the superintendent and told him everything Ava has done today. No way she doesn’t get fired.” Janie bragged.
“Oh, for the lives of God.” Melissa groaned.
“Janine,” Noaya said in disappointment. “This is why I told you to tell me.”
“What?” She asked, looking between the three women.
“The superintendent never sees our emails,” Barbra told her. “He has them bounced back to the person in charge of where they came from.”
“Wait, I’m sorry.” Janie stared. “Person in charge? That means the emails go back to…” She trailed off, the dots connecting. Just in time for said person to come in the intercom with an announcement.
“Teachers, it’s come to my attention that some of you—one of you—.” Ava clarified, looking through the glass of her office at the group of women standing at the door, her eyes trained on one in particular. “Think it’s okay to go over my head. So, during lunch break—this lunch break—we’ll be having a trait workshop so that we can learn how to become a woke family.” The woman was clearly pissed off, glaring at Janine from where she sat. “It’s gonna be fun!”
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“We are at a crossroads, this is a crisis,” Ava stressed as she stood before the hired group of teachers.
“No, a crisis is eating the cafeteria pizza for lunch.” Naoya chimed in from where she sat in the back.
“Uh, why are we here, exactly?” Gregory asked his seat right in front of hers.
“Well, chocolate drop.” Ava started, causing Naoya to snicker at the name. “I learned that someone here doesn’t respect me. But it’s not about me. Because if you don’t respect me, how can you respect this school?” She continued, causing them all to look at her confused as such a stupid correlation. But, it looks like Ava took that as a look of confusion due to her question.
“You can’t. It’s mathematically impossible.” She finished.
“W-Whoa. Who doesn’t respect you, Ava—I mean, the school?” Jacob asked.
“Me,” Naoya said but seemed to be completely ignored.
“It’s not important. We’re gonna make this a group matter so as too not to single any one person out.” The woman answered him. “Let’s try an excuse where we say whatever we want out loud to each other, no matter how critical. It’ll be fun, let’s start with Janine.” She said, looking over at the short woman who was practically shrinking in on herself.
“Janine?” She asked, smirking evilly.
“Yes?” Janine asked dejectedly, knowing that this whole situation was her fault and knowing that Ava did the exact thing she said she didn’t want to. Single her out.
“You’re pushy, squeaky and annoying,” Ava stated.
Collective disagreement was heated around the room.
“Excuse me?” Melissa piped up.
“Thaya just…” Gregory said.
“When is it my turn?” Naoya asked, starting to take her earring out of her ear.
“No, it’s not bad. No.” Ava defended. “We’re shaking to make us all better. Constructive. Hershey kiss, why don’t you try, start with Janine.” She pushed.
“I don’t want to.” The man sighed.
“You’re right, it should be someone who knows her better. Noaya, Jacob, Barbra?” She asked, looking between the two.
“When is it your turn? I wanna go when it’s your turn.” Naoya stated, folding her arms to keep herself at bay. Gregory glanced back, seeing the look of pure hatred on her face.
“Well, her hair is—“ Jacob started before getting cut off.
“Not!” Noaya and Barba said at the same time, the younger more so talking to her friend next to Janine, who gave the man next to her a look of disbelief.
“Ava, no one’s doing this to anyone.” Melissa started, looking at the woman before her.
“Hold on, I came prepared for this. Sheena, come on in.” Ava said, looking behind her to a student who was sitting behind the library desk.
“Ava, that is my student, she should be at lunch right now,” Janine complained, as everyone in the room looked at the little girl, trying to see what Ava's plan was.
“I am kinda hungry.” The little girl sighed, begrudgingly walking closer to the woman.
“Sheena, remember what we talked about? What was the thing that you wished was different about Ms.Teagues?” Ava asked the little girl. She just stood there, not knowing what to say as the whole room waited on her.
“She got some big feet.” Mr.Johnson chimed in from the very back of the children’s library where he was sweeping.
“Okay.” Janine sighed before standing from her seat. “Everyone, that’s enough. I am the person who disrespected Ava. I emailed the superintendent to tell him that she spent the school's money on a sign.”
“And got her hair done,” Naoya said, Janine, gesturing over to her in agreement.
“I’m sorry, Ava.” She continued. “And I’m sorry everyone missed lunch, especially you, Sheena. But I didn’t it because I care about the kids in this school, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing.” She ranted. “I—Okay. You know what.” She sighed, done talking. She felt as if no one was listening anyway and just wanted to leave. She was on her way out before turning back around. “Sheena, you should have this. I’m sorry.” She said, handing the school pizza over to the girl.
“Uh, no thank you.” The girl said, shaking her head. Janine just sighed again and turned to leave.
Ava chuckled as she watched the girl walk off, shaking her head. “Not a compelling speaker.” She smirked as she shook her head. “Charisma vacuum, am I right?”
Noaya cracked her neck as she stood up. The teachers in front of her filmed a little at the sound and her sudden movements. But she ignored that. “You know what, Ava? I was going to whoop your ass in the parking lot, and as much satisfaction as that would bring me, I don’t want to lose my job. Because I care about these kids. Just like Janine. And she may be a lot of things, like naive, a bit clingy and too cheerful—.”
“Ooh, this is good stuff, let me call her back in here,” Ava smirked as if she didn’t hear the first part of the girls’ speech.
“But she is also right.” Barba cut in, standing up with Naoya. “You know, actually wanting to help the children at this school shouldn’t be a bag thing.” The older woman finished for her. Afterwards, both her and Naoya walked out, letting Ava sit with their words.
They walked out to find the girl in front of her classroom, looking through the window. “Janine, ignore Ava. Big feet are a sign of fertility.” Barbra stated.
“I’m telling you to just give me the signal, I can have her framed for mur—something.” The light skinned girl said, catching herself in front of the cameras.
“Every lunch period, guys.” Was all Janine said before stepping out of their way to show the inside of her class. They both looked in seeing a little boy napping on his jacket, as the library door sounded again. “Every single one, Amir comes and naps in the rug.” She said, informing the whole group as Melissa, Jacob and Gregory joined.
“Mm-hmm. He was in my class.” Barbra said with a fond smile on her face. Mom’s got a lot of kids. Dad’s not around and when she is, the parents fight.”
“Right, so he doesn’t get much sleep. I told him to sleep at his desk, but she says that rug is softer—.” The shirt woman paused, trying to get emotional over the whole situation. “Softer than his bed at home.” There was a moment of silence as all the adults sat with her words. It’s hard hearing about the life of the kids you see everyday, knowing they live lives no one should. And knowing it’s on you to create a better life for them at school.
“You know what? I don’t care I you think I’m good at this or not anymore. I care about whether or not I can make a change.” Janine told Barbra as sternly as she could, which wasn’t a lot.
“Janine.” The woman started. “Teachers at a school like Abbott— we have to be able to do it all. We are admin, we are social workers, we are therapists, we are second parents. Hell, sometimes we’re even first.”
“Mm-hmm.” Melissa agreed.
“Why?” Barbra continued. “It sure ain’t the money.”
“Yup. I can make more working the street, easy.” Melissa chimed in. Causing Jacob and Naoya to look at each other in concern.
“Prostitution?” She mouthed over to the man, who shrugged.
“Look, we do this ‘cause we’re supposed to.” Melissa said to Janine. “It’s a calling. You answered.”
They all looked at eachother fondly, before Jacob started.
“I believe it was Brother Cornel West—“
“No.”
“Don’t.”
“Not right now, white boy.”
They all told him, causing the man to retreat back to his corner.
“You want to know my secret?” Barbra asked, ringing the subject back to where it was. “Do everything you can for your kids.” She smiled. “We’ll help. Hey, I suggest we put our money together and buy Janine the rug.” The older woman encouraged. “What yall think?”
“Absolutely.” Melissa said, pulling out her wallet.
“Guys, you can’t.” Janine started, looking between them. “You don’t have it. I know because I have the same salary as you and I overdrafted on a doughnut hole this morning.”
“Don’t tell me how much money I have.” Noaya stated, holding her hand out as a halt to the girl's words. “I do not claim that broke energy.”
“Well, why are you gonna do?” Barbra asked. “Steal a rug?”
“Not me, but I know a guy who knows a guy?” Janie trailed off, looking between Noaya and Melissa. The light skinned girl raised her hands. “I don’t know a cute guy that can steal that many carpets that fast.” She shrugged, a hopeless look on her face as she glanced at Melissa.
“Way ahead of you.” The woman said as she started typing into her phone. “I’m gonna have to bake a ziti.” She said, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Tony, ya big strung, listen, you still working that stabiuk build?” She said into the device as she walked away from the group.
Sometime later, a guys pulled up in a truck around back with a bunch of rugs for them. They all celebrated, going one by one to grab a rug. “Yay! I finally have one! My room was so depressing.” Naoya said as she waked down the hall with her rug.
“You’re on a mission.” Gregory stated, looking at the shorter girl in between him and Noaya. “It’s cool to see.”
“Thank you. Just a day in the life of being a teacher here. You get used to it.” Janine smiled.
“And that smell in the walls?” He asked, pointing.
“Oh no, you’re never gonna get used to that. Sometimes I wish I had a bad nose like Naoya.” She joked, elbowing the girl next to her. The taller woman lightly groaned. “Janine, you know that’s a big insecurity of mine. I have a fear of smelling bad.” The half Japanese girl tried to clarify to the male. “You’re subbing to go full time right?” She asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Um, we’ll see.” He said as they all briefly stopped in the hallway. “This job definitely surprises me.”
“Well, I hope you stay.” Janine said. “For the kids.” She clarified. Naoya shot a quick glacé to the camera, a small smirk on her face. She then decided to walk away. The camera caught Gregory’s eyes jumping from both women walking away, a small smile on his face. He then looked in the camera and dropped his expression.
“I’ll stick around for a while.” He said. “You know, for the kids.”
“Look guys!” Naoya said as she rolled out her shakes rug for her students. They all celebrated, clapping excitedly at the fact that they had a rug now.
“Ms.Lovel, I hate the egales.” One student said, standing next to the woman.
“Yeah, me too, kid. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” She said, patting the top of their head as Ava walked past her door. She paused at the sight of the rugs. Naoya placed her hands on her hips and cocked her neck, making Ava glare at the woman for a quick second before walking away.
“And that kids, is how you get rid of the enemy without fighting.” She said, pointing around the room to make sure they were watching. “Now that we have a rug, let’s watch that nature documentary!” She said excitedly, causing all the students to yell with excitement well.
The Better, Hidden Half
Requested Here!
Part 2 Here >
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)
Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.
Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?
A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍
Word Count: 3.9k+ words
Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.
Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”
Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”
Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”
Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.
“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”
“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”
“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”
They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.
✯✯✯✯✯
7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.
Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.
As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.
✯✯✯✯✯
Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.
Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.
“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.
“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”
“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”
“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.
“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.
“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.
“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”
“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.
“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”
“And what bag is that?”
“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”
“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”
“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”
Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’
“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.
“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”
Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.
“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.
“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.
The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.
“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.
Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”
Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”
“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”
“Tim-“
“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”
Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.
“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.
✯✯✯✯✯
While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.
“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.
“Did you get any blood on you?”
“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”
“Smart man.”
Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.
“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.
“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.
“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”
“Can you describe his condition?”
“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”
“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.
“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”
Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”
“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”
Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”
“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”
“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.
“Yes, I do.”
“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”
“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.
Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.
“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.
“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.
“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”
Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.
✯✯✯✯✯
Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.
Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”
While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.
He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”
“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.
“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"
"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”
Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”
“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“
“Don’t think like that. It’s-“
“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”
“What are you saying?”
Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”
“Anything.”
“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”
“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.
Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.
“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”
“You’ve never mentioned her.”
“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”
“I get that. What’s she like?”
Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”
“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”
“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.
“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”
“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.
“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.
Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.
“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”
Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”
Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.
“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”
“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”
Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.
“He’s okay,” Angela begins.
You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”
“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”
“Who did?”
“His rookie.”
Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.
“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.
“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.
“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”
“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.
“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”
“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.
“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.
“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.
Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.
“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.
Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.
“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.
You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”
Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”
You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.
“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.
In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.
Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.
Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.
Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.
“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”
“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.
“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.
“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.
“Where is he?”
She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.
“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.
You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.
“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.
Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.
“I’m sorry,” he begins.
“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”
Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”
You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”
“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”
Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”
Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.
“I love you,” Tim says.
“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”
“Ready to meet the rest of my-“
“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.
“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.
“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”
“How clean is the house?”
You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.
“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”
“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”
You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”
Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.
Happy Scary Halloween
Requested Here!🎃👻
Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!SWAT!fem!reader (w/ daughter from previous relationship)
Summary: Lucy asks you and your daughter to help prank your boyfriend Tim on Halloween, but he isn't the only one who gets scared.
Warnings: vague spoilers for Megan (2022), quotes from other horror movies, fluff!
Word Count: 1.9k+ words (I had fun with this one haha)
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules
“Coming with?” your teammate asks. “We’re meeting at Fanny’s.”
“Not tonight,” you answer softly, looking down at your shoes.
“Mid-Wilshire will be there,” she adds, shaking her shoulders as she watches you.
Rubbing your neck to hide your reaction to the mere thought of Tim Bradford, you murmur, “I have to pick up my daughter.”
“Ugh, fine,” she concedes. “You get a pass this one time. But you can get a sitter – shoot, I’ll watch her next time if it gets you out for a few hours.”
“Thanks.”
You leave the locker room and walk through the station, unable to keep your mind from drifting to Tim and when you’ll get to see him next. You’ve been dating for a few months, and your daughter gets along with him well, but it’s been just the two of you for so long that you are unsure if you’re comfortable with taking the next step. Tim is quite possibly the love of your life, and you don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, but your daughter comes first. I need to buy her a Halloween costume, you remember as you get in your car.
“What do you want to dress up as this year?” you ask your daughter, who rests against your shoulder as you watch an old Halloween movie.
She shrugs and moves closer, wrapping you in an awkward hug. “Any ideas?” she asks you. After speaking, she shakes her head and mumbles about the character on screen being dumb for going into a cemetery alone.
“Depends,” you answer. “Do you want to be cute, scary, something in between?”
“I dunno. Maybe we should ask Lucy for help.”
You nod and smile. “Probably.”
While you relax in the comfort of your home, watching the end of a movie with your daughter, Tim sits at a table in a diner surrounded by other police officers. The days leading up to Halloween are usually some of the worst days of the year for cops, rivaled only by Halloween itself and Spring Break. He’s tired and wants to see you, but his department put in a lot of work over the last few days, and Angela guilt-tripped asked him to come.
“Any big Halloween plans?” Lucy asks as she slides into the booth seat across from Tim.
Tim shakes his head and leans back in the seat.
“You’re going trick or treating aren’t you?” she guesses. “Getting soft now that you’re in love, huh?”
“Watch it, Chen.”
“What’s my honorary goddaughter dressing up as?” Angela inquires.
“Honorary goddaughter?” Tim repeats, raising his brows. “What?”
“Just tell me what she’s going to be, Timothy.”
“I don’t know, don’t think they’ve decided yet.”
“They? Oh my gosh, I love them so much,” Lucy gushes. “I wish my mom and I got along like they do.”
“What can you expect? They’re both shy,” Angela points out, “and they’ve had each other through everything.”
“You and Wesley giving out full-sized candy bars again?” Tim inquires, attempting to move the conversation away from you and your daughter.
“Of course,” she scoffs. “And we’ve got a bet going to see which costumes will be most popular this year. He’s thinking Spider-Man, I’m thinking Hermoine or Megan.”
“Megan?” Lucy repeats, his eyes widening in a way that Tim knows too well – she has an idea.
“Don’t start, Chen,” Tim sighs.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“C’mon, Lucy,” Angela beckons, “let’s go where we’re appreciated. There’s some firefighters from the 118 back there, maybe we can get you a date for the Halloween party.”
“As long as his costume isn’t a shirtless firefighter,” Lucy stipulates as she follows Angela. “Once was enough.”
Tim checks his phone, unsurprised to see you haven’t texted him. Yet, he smiles when he sees the picture of you and your daughter on his wallpaper. Maybe he is getting soft, but not for anyone except you.
Across the diner, Lucy drops her voice to communicate her idea to Angela, Nyla, Nolan, Grey, and Wesley. It will take some convincing, and a few minutes of practice, but it has the potential to be amazing. Most impressive, it might actually scare Tim Bradford.
“If I get punched, I’m blaming you,” you murmur to Lucy as you straighten your costume.
“If he punches you, Angela will punch him back,” she replies. “But I don’t think he’s going to go that far. I want him to run, not react.”
“We are talking about the same Tim Bradford, right?”
“He’s on his way,” Angela announces. She turns to your daughter and asks, “Are you ready?”
“Yep!” your daughter answers, smiling at you. “I’ve been practicing.”
“This is the best Halloween ever!” Lucy exclaims.
“I’m still saying it doesn’t work,” Wesley calls from down the hall, where he’s setting up a fog machine.
“Have a little faith, Wesley!” Angela replies. “He loves them, his guard won’t be as high.”
Your cheeks warm at her comment, and you walk to your daughter to fix her wig and dress instead of replying to Angela’s claim. Tim does love you, you know that, but it doesn’t make it easier to remain impassive or collected, for that matter, when someone else points it out.
“All these years of SWAT training to just prank him with a creepy doll movie,” you muse quietly.
“Hey, that’s a good point,” Nolan replies. “If he punches you, just use that training.”
You look over your shoulder to scowl at Nolan, but his eyes meet yours, and he smiles, so you turn away quickly. Tim will arrive any minute, so Lucy turns the lights off, starts the music she made for this prank, and everyone moves into place as the fog machine whirs.
The front door opens, and you inhale deeply but silently, just as before a raid. It clicks closed, and you count Tim’s steps before he flips the light switch. Nothing happens thanks to Nolan flipping the breakers, and Tim’s movements grow quieter but not impossible to track. In time with his soft breaths, you tap Lucy once… twice… and then lay your palm flat against her arm.
A spotlight in the corner of the hall comes on, dim and buzzing lowly, as it illuminates your daughter, dressed as Megan and standing with her head down. The replica katana Wesley brought glints on the table from your position but should be invisible to Tim. He moves into the hallway and narrows his eyes as your daughter looks up. The blue contacts Angela helped her put in seem to glow as she watches him.
Suddenly, the music changes and your daughter steps to the side, beginning the dance from the movie as she moves down the hallway and nears Tim. Pushing off of the wall, she spins and lifts the katana. With a deep breath, she does the measured lunge Nolan helped her learn and stabs the blade toward Tim. He jerks backward just as the light turns off. Your daughter giggles as she disappears into a dark bedroom.
Though he can’t see you, Tim is only feet from you as he turns in a slow circle in the dark. Lucy’s music fades before Megan says, “This is the part where you run.”
All the lights in the house come on as Nolan flips the breaker, and you wait behind Tim. When he turns again, he steps back quickly at the sight of you. Sitting in a chair and dressed as Annabelle, you let your head drop to your shoulder before Angela and Wesley throw several dolls out of the doorways in the hall, letting them land with clear thuds on the hallway floor.
Tim steps back, narrowly missing the table while he backpedals toward the door. You’re admittedly shocked at how well this is going, but you’re also beginning to feel a bit of remorse for pranking him like this.
“You need to learn some manners, Tim,” your daughter says, stepping back into view with the katana hanging from her hand.
Tim reaches for the doorknob, then stops. He watches her for several silent seconds, then says her name. With his complete focus on your daughter, you stand and place the life-sized Annabelle doll in your chair.
“That-“ Tim begins, leaning forward to place his hands on his thighs. “That was pretty good.”
“You were scared,” your daughter taunts, bouncing in place. “We did it!”
“I can’t believe that worked,” Wesley murmurs as he turns off the fog machine.
“Add that to your Tim Tests!” Lucy exclaims, emerging from the kitchen.
“I should’ve known you were involved.” Tim turns toward ‘Annabelle,’ and says, “Okay, you did it, you can get up now.”
The doll doesn’t move, and he looks at Lucy, who keeps her eyes on the white dress and shakes her head. Tim walks to the chair and lays his hand on Annabelle’s shoulder, causing her to tip onto the floor.
“Where’s Mom?” your daughter asks, looking between Angela and Lucy.
“She was Annabelle,” Lucy murmurs slowly. “I didn’t have a doll.”
“We didn’t either,” Angela adds. “She has to be around here somewhere.”
“Nolan, if this is-“
“It’s not me,” Nolan interrupts. “This wasn’t in the plan.”
“Tim,” your daughter calls, more of a squeak than anything, as she points to a trail of red droplets leading toward the side door.
Tim leads the way, followed closely by Angela, Lucy, and Nolan, while Wesley waits inside with your daughter. They exit the house and see bullet casings scattered across the small patio but no sign of anyone.
From your position on the roof, you can see their expressions, the worry and fear they’re attempting to mask – likely for your daughter’s sake.
“I see dead people,” the speaker you mounted below the patio covering whispers.
“Do you think she’s doing this?” Lucy whispers.
“I don’t know that she could,” Angela points out.
You smile beneath your mask, moving closer to the edge. Pressing a button on your phone, the speaker plays a dial tone before shifting to a quiet static sound.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” you ask from the roof.
Tim, Angela, Lucy, and Nolan turn quickly, and Nolan presses his hand over his heart as he sighs. You don’t know what you look like, perched precariously on the roofline in a Scream-face mask with a long black robe rippling in the breeze, but clearly, it worked to scare Tim even more.
You pull the mask off and smile. “So, did we scare him?”
“Him?!” Lucy repeats. “You scared us!”
Tim smiles suddenly, and your eyes drift to his chest.
“You scared your daughter, too,” he points out, clearly proud of himself.
“Did I?” you challenge softly.
Wesley and your daughter exit the house, and she smiles as she looks at Tim. He shakes his head and hugs her, then demands that she change or at least take out the contacts.
“Happy Halloween, Tim,” you call.
When they turn around to find you, your position on the roof is empty, not even a shadow of your robe is left as evidence you were ever there.
“Thanks,” you tell your SWAT teammates as you land on the ground in your front yard. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, we got the good end of this deal,” your teammate says. “Bradford trying to get out of the house without any sudden movements was golden. And it’s all on video. Good luck dealing with him now.”
You sigh as they leave and return to the backyard, where Tim cups your face and demands eye contact. You squirm in his hold, and his smile widens.
“I’m getting you back next year,” he promises.
“Ooh, I’ll help!” your daughter agrees, moving to stand beside you both, her shoulder pressed to yours.
You, however, get caught in the idea that they both want to be here, beside you and with you, again next year. It’s a happy Halloween, indeed.
Not So Grumpy (Part 2)
Part 1 Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!pregnant!wife!reader
Summary: Months after being introduced to the rookies, you get a chance to see them again. After your baby is born and Tim's grumpiness continues, you finally have a chance to properly meet them.
Warnings: grumpy!Tim is a softie for his wife and baby, there's a baby but no details about labor or anything, lots and lots of fluff, Wopez spoilers (s1-2)
Word Count: 1.3k+ words
A/N: This was better in my head. Oh well.
It’s been almost three months since Tim “introduced” you to the rookies. While you’ve been prepping the nursery, attending doctor’s appointments, and trying different stretches to prepare your body for labor, you haven’t seen Tim any more or less than usual. Halfway through your pregnancy, he got clingy with you and grumpy with everyone else. Though you haven’t been around the station recently, you assume that hasn’t changed. While thinking about Tim, you gasp and hold your stomach as you breathe through a contraction. You’re ready to meet your baby but still have a while to go. Plus, you have to make sure Tim is there. He’s grumpy enough without missing the birth of his first child.
You found the perfect onesie during your trip to the store and can’t wait to show Tim. You and Tim decided not to learn the gender of your baby, and the neutral-colored onesie with a police car and “My Dad’s a Superhero” made you smile, so you had to buy it. Plus, you’re experiencing contractions and miss Tim, so you drop by the station unannounced.
As you walk in, someone calls your name. You look up and smile when you see Angela Lopez waving.
“Hi, Officer Lopez,” you greet.
“Please, it’s Angela. Are you here to see Tim?”
“I am.”
“I don’t know where he is but come with me. We’ll find him.”
“Thank you.”
“How is everything? With Tim and the pregnancy?”
“Good. Baby’s healthy, Tim is amazing.”
Angela snorts before she tries to cover it with a cough. You don’t have time to ask her what is so funny before someone else says your name. At least you recognize the voice this time.
“Hi, Tim,” you reply with a smile.
He nods once before he takes your hand and leads you away from Angela. You wave over your shoulder, and she smiles knowingly. Alone in an empty hallway, you extend the bag toward Tim. He takes it but sets it down to hug you before opening it.
“You okay?” you ask as he pulls you close.
“Better now,” he answers softly.
“I can’t imagine you being grumpy,” you answer, rubbing your hand along his spine.
“I miss you.”
“Just a few more weeks and then you’ll spend every minute with me and a baby. You’ll be begging to come back.”
Tim pulls back and rolls his eyes at you. You know he will be a great father because he’s already an amazing husband. Not that you’d admit it, but you’ve been counting the minutes until he gets to stay home with you and help you recover and care for your baby.
“Officer Bradford,” someone says at the end of the hallway.
You step back and take the onesie from Tim as he turns.
“What?” he replies shortly.
“Grey needs to see us in ten minutes,” Angela adds, pushing her rookie Jackson away from Tim.
“Then I’ll be there in ten minutes. For now, leave me alone.”
“Angela,” you say, stepping to Tim’s side. “Thanks for the gift. I really appreciate it.”
Tim takes a deep breath before thanking her. She sent a gift home with him months ago, even though she didn’t really know you.
“Of course. I’m glad you like it,” Angela replies.
“And I’d- we’d- love to have you over for dinner after everything settles down. And Jackson, Lucy, and Nolan can come too, if they’d like.”
“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly. She steps around the corner and looks at you rather than Tim’s glare.
“About time we get to meet properly, right?” you reply.
“I’m going to go tell them,” Lucy cheers before disappearing again.
“Don’t you dare,” Tim snaps. “You got an invite. Learn to keep personal matters personal, Chen.”
You wrap your hand around Tim’s forearm, and his shoulders drop as he exhales. There’s no apology, but he stops yelling at Lucy.
“Here,” you say.
Tim races to hold you as you bend down to retrieve the bag. He scolds you lovingly for moving too much before he takes it from your hand. You smile and nod toward the bag. Tim shakes his head in loving annoyance before pulling the onesie out. He holds it up to read it, and his face softens as every semblance of grumpiness disappears.
Throughout the progression of your pregnancy, as his paternity leave gets closer, Tim has grown less grumpy. Part of him hates that he has missed so much of your pregnancy, though, and that anger and disappointment comes out at work. As he folds the onesie and places it back in the bag, he pulls you against his side and kisses your temple.
“Superhero, huh?” he asks.
“We think so,” you answer.
Tim looks down at where your hand rests on your bump and covers your hand with his.
“I promise not to miss so much next time,” he whispers.
“You haven’t missed anything,” you assure him. “Make sure you’re at the hospital to catch the baby, that’s all I need.”
“I will be. I’ll be there the moment your water breaks.”
You smile and tilt your head to kiss Tim’s jaw. “Wait, next time?”
5 Months Later
“Hi, Angela!” you say as you open the door. You pull her into a hug before leading her toward the kitchen. “How’s everything with Wesley?”
“Good. I found out he’s, like, disgustingly rich, so that was something,” Angela answers.
“Interesting,” you agree. “And the mom situation?”
“Remedied. I can understand his side of it now, too.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Tim asks from the kitchen. “He’s a lawyer, that’s all I know, and I have to see Angela every day.”
“Have to see,” Angela scoffs. “We’re BFFs, just admit it.”
“No.”
Someone else knocks, and you remind Tim to be kind as you leave to invite everyone in. Lucy, Nolan, and Jackson are waiting excitedly at your door. Lucy hands you a small gift bag as she enters.
“Thank you,” you say. “Come on in. Kitchen’s this way.”
The baby monitor on the island blinks before your baby’s cries fill the kitchen.
“I got it,” Tim murmurs. He picks up the monitor and drags a hand across your back as he walks toward the nursery.
“Did you find a solution to the closet problem?” Lucy asks as she sits beside you. “Oh, and you look amazing by the way.”
“Thank you. And I did.” You chuckle before pointing out, “You text with questions about where to go for a second date and I’m asking about storage solution for newborn clothes.”
“Because you’re happily married and not destroying your apartment in an attempt to look good for a guy who calls you the wrong name,” Jackson adds.
“Jackson!” Lucy exclaims.
“Sorry, but it’s true.”
“You text them?” Tim asks as he returns with your baby in his arms.
“Oh my gosh,” Lucy coos at the sight.
Tim narrows his eyes at her before looking back at you.
“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t introduce us, so I took it into my own hands,” you answer. “You need anything?”
“Hey, how long have you guys been together?” Nolan asks.
“I don’t like this,” Tim complains as he returns to the kitchen.
“He’ll drop the act soon,” you whisper conspiratorially.
“It’s not an act,” Tim calls. “So, it will go away when they do!”
After your dinner company leaves, you take care of the dishes while Tim spends quality time with your baby. As you walk into the room, he extends an arm toward you. You make yourself comfortable against his side as Tim holds the baby against his chest. He may be grumpy with everyone but the two of you, but you wouldn’t change a thing, and Tim wouldn’t either.
“I love you,” you whisper in the comfort of your shared home and life.
“I love you,” Tim replies. “Enough that I can stop being grumpy.”
The Cook and The Teacher!
Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.
The meeting of Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!
Headcanons.
The day had been long, and Carmy was just trying to keep it together. He’d left The Bear earlier than usual—if you could call "earlier" 9 p.m.—and was heading upstairs to his apartment with a bag of takeout that was far less exciting than anything he cooked in the kitchen. His mind was still buzzing with half-finished ideas for new recipes and the stress of balancing the books. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner in the hallway that he saw you.
You were crouched on the floor outside the apartment next to his, wrestling with a particularly heavy box. A burst of bright, patterned fabric caught his eye—it was your socks. Your jeans were rolled up messily, revealing mismatched socks peeking out of your sneakers, and a stubborn strand of hair that kept falling to your face. You didn’t seem to notice him at first, too focused on trying to angle the box through the doorway.
“Uh, you need a hand?” Carmy asked, his voice quiet and even, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d hear him.
You startled slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. A man—tall, with a mop of messy blond hair, tired blue eyes, and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days—stood a few steps away. He looked a little rough around the edges, like he’d just stepped out of a 12-hour shift. And, unbeknownst to you, he had.
For a moment, you seemed unsure whether to accept, but then you huffed, brushing your hair out of your face. “Honestly? Yes. Please. I think this box is plotting my downfall.”
Carmy set his takeout on the floor and stepped over. He crouched down beside you, studying the situation. “What’s in here? Bricks?”
You laughed, the sound warm and full, and it caught him off guard. “Close enough—books. I hoard them like a dragon.”
He smirked faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. Without another word, he lifted the box with relative ease, surprising you with how quickly he maneuvered it through your doorway. “Where do you want it?”
“Anywhere that’s not the hallway,” you said with a grin, stepping aside to let him pass. “But if you want to put it by the window, I won’t stop you.”
Carmy carried the box to the corner you pointed to, but as he turned back, his eyes lingered on you longer than he intended. Standing amidst the chaos of your half-unpacked apartment, you looked effortlessly natural—strands of hair falling loose, a faint smile on your lips, and a light, easy confidence that made the mess around you seem insignificant. The light caught your cheekbone, highlighting your warm, colorful presence, a stark contrast to the muted tones he was used to. The room was already full of little glimpses of your personality—colorful throw pillows piled on a couch, a small vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill, and a stack of what looked like hand-painted signs propped against the wall.
“Thanks for that,” you said, breaking his train of thought. “I owe you one.”
Carmy couldn’t help but think how effortlessly pretty you were, though he kept the thought to himself, letting it settle quietly in the back of his mind.
He shrugged, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You just saved me from throwing my back out. That’s definitely worth at least a plate of cookies or something.”
Carmy opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your energy bright and fast-paced. “Wait—are you my neighbor? Please tell me you’re not just some random guy who walked by and felt bad for me.”
“Uh, yeah,” Carmy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I live next door.”
Your face lit up. “Oh, good. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you...?”
“Carmen,” he said. “Carmy.”
“Carmy,” you repeated, testing it out. “Alright, Carmy-next-door. Thanks for the rescue.”
He nodded awkwardly, his social skills feeling a little rusty. “Yeah. No problem.”
-----
Carmy was just about to head out for his usual coffee run before work when the knock came at his door. He hesitated for a moment, not used to anyone knocking on his door—especially not at this hour. He opened it cautiously, and there you were, standing on the other side, holding a plate covered in plastic wrap.
“Hey!” you said brightly, flashing him the kind of smile that felt a little too sunny for such an early hour. You hold the plate out toward him. "These are for you. My way of saying thanks for saving me from a very undignified fate yesterday.”
“You weren’t kidding,” he said, glancing down at the plate.
“Never joke about cookies,” you said solemnly, holding them out to him.
Carmy hesitated for a moment before taking the plate, his fingers brushing yours briefly.
“Uh thanks,” he said simply, his tone soft but sincere.
You tilted your head, your smile softening into something a little teasing. “That’s it? ‘Uh, thanks’? No ‘wow, these look amazing,’ or ‘you didn’t have to, Y/N, you’re too kind’?”
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, genuine smile. “Alright, fine. Wow, these look amazing. And you didn’t have to.”
“Much better,” you said, nodding approvingly. “I knew you had it in you, Carmy-next-door.”
“Carmy-next-door?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me your last name, so I had to come up with something. If you’d prefer something fancier, we could workshop it.”
He shook his head, amused. “Carmy-next-door’s fine.”
There was a brief pause, and Carmy shifted slightly, unsure of what to do next. Social interactions outside of a kitchen weren’t exactly his strong suit, but something about the way you stood there, so at ease, made him want to keep talking. “Peanut butter?”
“Yep. I hope you’re not allergic or I might feel terrible for accidentally murdering my new neighbor.”
“No allergies,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “They look... good.”
“They taste better,” you replied confidently, rocking back on your heels. “You’ll see.”
Carmy stared at the plate in his hands for a moment, then back at you. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of you yet—this whirlwind of color and brightness that seemed to completely contrast his muted world.
“You uh-bake a lot?” he asked, his voice quieter now, curious despite himself.
You laughed, and the sound made something in his chest loosen. “Not really. I’m more of a ‘wing it and hope for the best’ kind of baker. Which, coincidentally, is also my teaching style.”
That caught his attention. “Teaching?”
“Yep. Fourth grade at Abbott Elementary,” you said, a note of pride in your voice. “You ever try to teach ten-year-olds about fractions? It’s like trying to train cute little squirrels to sit still.”
Carmy huffed another laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Can’t say I have.”
“You’re lucky,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. “Anyway, I should let you get back to... whatever it is you were doing. But enjoy the cookies. They’re my signature recipe.”
“Signature?” Carmy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep,” you said with a playful smirk. “Passed down from the great culinary masterminds of my family. By which I mean, I Googled it five years ago and have been winging it ever since."
Carmy let out a quiet laugh, glancing back toward his apartment. For a moment, he considered inviting you in, but the idea of it felt… too sudden. Too much. Instead, he took a step back toward the door, holding up the plate as a gesture of gratitude. “I’ll let you know how they are.”
“Oh, it will,” you said confidently, already backing toward your apartment. “See you around, Carmy-next-door.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, watching as you disappeared back into your apartment, leaving him standing in the doorway with a plate of cookies in his hands and a strange sense of warmth in his chest.
-------
The plate of cookies sat on Carmy’s desk in the cluttered back office at The Bear, their presence almost mocking him. He’d brought them along in the rush of the morning, figuring he might as well snack on them during the chaos of his day. But, as usual, the day had taken over—prep work, managing the team, putting out fires both literal and figurative—and by the time he finally sat down, the cookies were still untouched.
Richie, after coming into his office asking about the butter delivery for tomorrow, noticed the cookies on the table.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, pointing to the plate with an incredulous look. “Since when do you bake cookies?”
Carmy looked up from his paperwork, deadpan.“They’re from my neighbor. She brought them over as a thank-you for helping her move a box.”
Richie snorted, picking one up without waiting for permission. “Your neighbor? What is this, a fucking Hallmark movie?”
“Can you just eat the cookie and shut up?” Carmy said, though his tone was more resigned than annoyed, as he leaned back into his chair.
Richie took a dramatic bite, his eyebrows raising in exaggerated surprise. “Damn. These are actually good. Who’s this neighbor of yours? She running a bakery or something?”
“No,” Carmy said, shaking his head. “She’s a teacher.”
Richie blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “A teacher who bakes like this? That's a keeper. Because these cookies are better than anything Marcus has cranked out lately.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Carmy muttered, grabbing a cookie for himself.
They were soft, perfectly sweetened, with just the right amount of salt to balance the flavor. He wasn’t expecting much when you’d handed him the plate earlier, but now... now he understood why you’d been so confident.
He finished the cookie quickly, his mind already drifting to thoughts of you. He could picture the way you’d smiled when you handed him the plate, the playful glint in your eyes when you teased him. He wasn’t used to people being so... warm. So open. It felt unfamiliar, but not in a bad way.
Richie leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “Seriously, though, what’s the deal? She single? Maybe I should swing by, introduce myself. Could use some homemade cookies in my life.”
Carmy shot him a warning look, though his tone remained light. "Just get out of here, Richie,"
Richie chuckled, grabbing another cookie as he walked out. “Hey, if she makes more of these, tell her I’ll marry her. Hell, I’ll even carry her boxes next time.”
Carmy shook his head, staring at the now half-empty plate of cookies. For a moment, he considered texting you to tell you how good they were, but he didn’t have your number. Instead, he made a mental note to return the favor—something different than cookies.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he cared so much, but as he reached for one last cookie, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
-----
It had been two days since you’d dropped off the plate of cookies as a thank-you for Carmy helping you with your move. You didn’t expect much in return—maybe just a polite nod in the hallway or, at most, an offhanded “thanks.” That was the kind of vibe you got from Carmy: quiet, reserved, polite but not overly forthcoming or social.
So, when there was a knock at your door that evening, you weren’t expecting to find him standing there, holding a small brown takeout box.
“Carmy-next-door,” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, as his eyes flicked between her face and the container in his hands. “Uh, thought I’d return the favor."
Your eyes flicked to the container, and you tilted your head curiously. “Return the favor?”
"For the cookies.”
You blinked, glancing down at the box in his hands. It wasn’t your typical store-bought takeout container—this one looked nicer, almost custom-made. You tilted your head slightly, curious. “What’s this?”
“Just something I made,” he said, shrugging one shoulder like it was no big deal. “Nothing fancy.”
You smiled, reaching out to take the box from him. “Wait, so you’re telling me you cook? Like, professionally?”
Carmy hesitated for a moment, clearly debating how much to say. “Yeah. I’m a chef.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Like... a real chef? Not just someone who’s really good at making grilled cheese?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. A real chef. But I do make a mean grilled cheese.”
“Well, color me impressed,” you laugh, holding up the box like it was a prized treasure. “What’s in here? Or is it a secret?”
“Braised short ribs,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “With some potato puree and roasted vegetables. It’s... leftovers from a test recipe.”
You blinked, momentarily stunned. “You're giving me that as a thank-you for cookies?”
He shrugged again, his gaze flicking away. “Figured it was better than just saying ‘thanks.’"
You laughed softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, now I feel like I need to bake you an entire cake or something. Cookies don’t seem like enough anymore.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “You didn’t have to bring me anything in the first place.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have discovered that my new neighbor is secretly a culinary genius,” you teased, watching as his cheeks seemed to tint just slightly pink.
“Not a genius,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... a chef.”
“Well, Chef Carmy, you’ve officially raised the bar for neighborly exchanges,” you said, grinning.
A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. “Just enjoy it.”
She studied him for a beat longer, the way he seemed both completely comfortable and slightly out of place at the same time. “Well, thanks, Carmy. I’ll let you know what I think.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding slightly. “You do that.”
Carmy turned to leave, but before he reached his apartment, you called after him, your voice light and teasing.
"Hey, Carmy-next-door!"
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder, a curious expression on his face.
"Is this some kind of competition now? Because if it is, my next thank-you might have to involve actual fireworks."
He gave a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that widened your smile. "It's not."
You laughed, the sound brightening the hallway. "Well, it is now," you declared, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I’m not going down without a fight."
"Looking forward to it," he murmured, shaking his head, his smile lingering as he turned and disappeared into his apartment
You stood in the doorway for a moment, still holding the box, a warm feeling spreading through you. There was something about him—quiet but deeply thoughtful—that made you feel like you’d just scratched the surface of who he really was.
You carried the box into your kitchen, setting it carefully on the counter. The smell alone was enough to make your mouth water, but you didn’t open it right away. Instead, you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a seat, savoring the anticipation. And as you finally took your first bite, you couldn’t help but think: maybe moving into this building was the best decision you’d made in a long time.
Hope you enjoy it!!!! <3
Part 3??
Under fire
Pairing: Criminal minds x reader
Summary: During a case a pregnant victim escapes during the search you find the young girl but not before one of the unsubs finds you first.
TW: mentions of murder, childbirth, blood, gunshots, getting shot, blood
******************************************************** “James we are placing you under arrest for 10 accounts of murder and kidnapping, anything you say…” you heard as Rossi read your newest unsub his rights. You stood next to Derek watching as the rest of the team talked to the sheriffs department, or helped with the killer.
“Hey you okay?” Derek asked wrapping you in a strong arm.
“I’ll be fine, it’s just cases like this…”
“I know baby.” You wrapped your arms around him in a sideways hug, being together was one of the best decisions you two had ever made, between work and just life you were a pretty good team, you made a great couple, but in cases like this it was being each other protector and safe place that made it that much more worth it.
“I just wish we knew what happened to the girl friend, she was young and beautiful.”
“well now that we know who did it maybe we can get some answers, give everyone some closure.” He reassured you.
“Hey you two, ready to go?” JJ asked walking over to you.
“ready as I’ll ever be.” You said with a sigh.
“Rossi and Emily are going to ride with the unsub, Luke, Reid, and Tara will meet us at the station.” She said as you all climbed into the black suv.
as you made your way down the road you watched as trees flew past your window, Derek was driving and JJ navigating in the passenger seat, you were propped up in the back letting your mind wander about this case. Out of no where you saw a young woman stumble into the road, Derek quickly slamming the vehicle to a halt. You sat up in the middle the three of you watching the young woman, she was sporting a baby bump at least 7 months along, dressed in tore up jeans boots and a t-shirts, a tattered flannel pulled over her arms the clothing worn and dirty as if she had been running through the woods.
You were concerned and having a nursing background, jumped out of the car, “Hey Y/N wait, no…” you heard Derek call after you and you held out a hand telling him to wait.
“Hey, what’re you doing out here?”
“I-I escaped fr-from the house and started running… please help me.” she spoke shakily, one hand clutching under her large bump.
“Okay, let’s start with names… I’m Agent Y/N Morgan, I’m with the FBI, what’s your name?”
“FBI…” she whispered, “m-my name’s Cassandra, my friends used to call me Cassie.”
“Cassie, pretty name… can you tell me how far along you are?” You motioned to her large abdomen.
“I’m not sure… he took me and I didn’t know, I just, oh ughhh…” she bent over in pain, and you turned seeing Derek and JJ both standing next to the suv.
“Woah, hey, can you tell me what you’re feeling?” You asked inching towards her as she grimaced bent over her bump in pain.
“It’s- it’s like some cramping pain, like my muscles are tearing, they started happening earlier but I kept running cause I had to get away.”
“Okay, okay, have they been getting closer?”
“ye-yea and more painful, I think something is wrong with my baby.” She started to cry, still bent over.
“Cassie, can you look at me?” she glanced up at you, “can I help you, I think you might be going into labor.”
she hesitantly looked at you before nodding, you slowly walked towards her, until you heard shots ring out, you felt one hit you tearing through your side just above your right hip, you stumbled shielding Cassie with your body, you started moving her as another bullet grazed your leg. You rushed her to the car as Derek and JJ returned fire to give you cover.
Opening the back seat and helping her in, Derek looked at you questioning, “here’s my closure.” You said and immediately he knew, this was the supposed girlfriend, the young woman the killer kidnapped and held captive and she was about to have her baby in your backseat.
You helped her as Derek started down the road hustling to get you to the closest hospital, both the other agents scanning to see where the fire was coming from, JJ called Emily and Tara to alert them of what was happening.
“nahhh…” she groaned out, you could see the tears rolling down her cheeks at the pain.
“okay sweetheart, I wanna help you but you have to let me… Cassie, I need to get you out of these pants, I need to see how dilated you are.” She looked at you hesitantly, not ready to fully expose herself to a stranger, which after her expierence you didn’t blame her.
“do you know anything about delivering babies?” She asked.
“I do, I worked as a nurse before I signed on with the bureau, you’re in good hands, I promise… okay?”
She looked at you hesitantly, “okay… okay.” She nodded and turned towards you putting her back on the door, you helped her out of her pants and put your jacket over her legs, hissing as you peeled it off your shoulders.
“JJ can I have some gloves out of that compartment?” she handed you a pair of exam gloves.
“okay sweetheart, I’m going to just take a look?” She nodded as you lifted the blanket.”
“okay I can see your baby’s head…looks like this baby doesn’t want to wait.”
“I feel… I feel like I need to push.” Cassie whined out, gritting her teeth, her hair was caked to her face with sweat, chest heaving.
“That’s okay, do what your body tells you… give me a big push.” She gritted her teeth and bared down, reaching out she found your hand on her knee and squeezed it.
“Okay, good girl, now one more time for me…” she screamed and with one last push you held a screaming newborn in your arms, the moment was short lived as you placed the baby on her chest.
she was too focused on her baby to notice your hands covered in blood, “Y/N?” JJ trailed you with her eyes as you turned to look at her.
“That’s a lot of blood…” her eyes drifted to the seat and your clothes, your jeans and shirt now stained red the gloves you wore and you arms had crimson streaks.
“I feel fine though.” Cassie answered.
“because it’s not yours…” you said sinking back in the seat with a hiss, skilled fingers finally tracing the bullet hole. Your eyes fluttered as the adrenaline started to wear off.
“Y/N, are you okay?” You heard the young girl ask trying to calm her baby.
“Uhm, I’ll be okay, just a couple scratches.” You lied, you knew you were bleeding and every second you sat here was one second closer to death.
“Y/N?” Derek asked concerned for you.
“Oh my God, Y/N!” JJ turned to face you, she climbed over the seat grabbing a cloth or towel, you weren’t sure, and pressed it your abdomen, trying her best to stop or slow the bleeding, she supported you as you started to sway feeling intense exhaustion come over you.
“Talk to me baby.” Derek demanded, watching you from the review mirror as your eyes fluttered closed, color draining from your features.
“the bullet, it uh… I took it, I got hit.” You winced as JJ pressed a little harder, your blood slowly seeping through the cloth onto her hands. You saw a frantic Derek in the mirror and felt the car lurch forward.
“Okay um, okay…” he said starting to panic.
“Derek breathe, it’s okay.” You said, head falling back against the seat.
“no, God dammit Y/N it’s not okay, you got shot.” He sped and finally came into the city seeing the lights of the hospital, weaving through traffic until the car halted to a stop in a nearby ambulance bay.
“I’m coming love, I’m coming.” Derek said jumping out of the car and coming around to you.
“no, no, Y/N, stay awake with me.” He flung the door open and pulled his shirt over his head and used it to apply pressure, taking over where JJ was you heard as he panicked and JJ checked on the new mom.
“I’m right here…” you whispered.
“stay with me just a little bit longer, come on baby.” He said tears burning in his eyes, medical staff rushed out to the car, a large male nurse pulling your husband away as they loaded you onto a stretcher, another team taking care of Cassie and her new baby. You reached for them but felt weak as you hand fell limp, eyes fluttering closed, covered in blood as they rushed you in hearing the frantic yelling of Derek as he called your name telling you to stay awake.
Memories flashed quickly through your mind as you came in and out of consciousness, the classic line of hospital lights and medical staff leaning in and out of view. Memories of first meeting Derek, Penelope being protective of the both of you telling you that if one hurt the other she would kill you because she loved you both. Being there with him when Prentiss “died”, building a family with the team, seeing JJ become a mom and being the boys “favorite aunt”, watching Derek propose and marrying the man of your dreams. Times out to dinner with the team, picking on Reid, nights out with the girls. Everything good in your life quickly became your worst fear as you were terrified of leaving it all behind, every fiber of your being fighting to stay alive, fighting so that some nurse wouldn’t have to tell your family they need to plan a funeral.
A few hours later the team was all seated in a waiting room, Derek sat there staring into space stone-faced, unmoving as his brain was both blank and going a million miles a second his shirt and pants still stained in your blood. JJ was now wearing one of your hoodies that she found stashed in the car, her bloody shirt long since disposed of as spoke with some staff about Cassandra and what took place as the rest of the team sat waiting, Garcia drove in and was seated next to Derek quietly fidgeting.
“Ehem,” a nurse entered the room clearing her throat, “Derek Morgan?”
He shot up out of his seat too quickly and almost startled everyone. “How is she… is she?”
“She’s okay, still recovering from the surgery and blood loss but she’s awake and asking for you.”
“Oh thank God, thank God.” He said as she gave him your room number and he took off down the hall as she stayed to update everyone else.
You heard the glass door slide open and then closed turning to see the chiseled silhouette of your husband. “Baby girl I thought I lost you.” He said as he sat next to you and picked up your hand, tears flowing down his cheeks as he flashed you a signature smile.
“can’t get rid of me that easy, we’re in this for life Mr. Morgan.” You joked and he kissed you.
“Cute…”
“you know what would be cute?… our babies, we should make some babies.”
“is that you or the drugs talking?” He chuckled.
“both.” You said flashing him a cheeky grin.
“well then as soon as you’re ready we can make some cute babies.”
“gorgeous, smart babies.” You said sleepily as the drowsiness was overtaking you.
“if they look anything like their momma then they’ll be beautiful.” He said over you as you slept, he knew that even though you were drowsy and drugged up, you meant every word you said, you wanted nothing more than to expand your little family and there’s no better time to do it than now.
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.
We've Got Time
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!French/American!reader
Summary: You return to Los Angeles from France to visit your childhood friend Lucy Chen and find everything your heart has needed.
Warnings: fluff, r makes Tim a little nervous
Word Count: 1.6k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
“Come on!” Lucy groans. “I told you not to eat macarons when you can’t share.”
You smile guiltily and set the pastel pink macaron back on the hand-painted dish beside your phone. “Sorry, Luce.”
Lucy sighs, and a pang in your heart reminds you how much you miss her. She became your best friend during summers in America as a kid, but you haven’t had a chance to visit the States in too long.
“How’s policing going?” you inquire.
“As good as it can, I guess. Tim is still grumpy and finds something wrong with most of my decisions, but I’m learning.”
“You’re good at everything you decide to put your mind to, Lucy, and no matter what this Tim guy says, you’re going to be a great cop.”
“I think an éclair would make me a better cop,” Lucy replies with a dramatic pout.
“Éclairs au chocolate make everything better.”
“Boot!” someone yells in the background, causing Lucy to roll her eyes.
“Bye, Lucy,” you say. “Je t’aime.”
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t tease me with macarons and French countryside on all of our calls. But… I love you, too.”
Your phone screen changes as Lucy ends the call, and as you trace the paint on your plate with your eyes, you decide what to do. It’s time to visit your best friend.
You straighten your jacket as the U.S. customs officer looks through your bag. Your French and American passports sit on the metal desk as he lifts a wrapped Saint Laurent box.
“Uhm,” the man begins before mouthing a few words. “Contenu de cette…”
“I speak English,” you offer with a smile. “It’s a purse, gift for a friend.”
He nods and returns the box to your suitcase before he leans forward to zip it. “You’re free to go. Welcome to Los Angeles.”
“Thank you.”
As you pull your suitcases through Los Angeles International Airport, you smile. Your excitement to surprise Lucy increases as you near her police station, hoping to brighten her day.
“You’re looking for Chen?” someone asks.
You look up from your phone and across the police station lobby. The officer is handsome - stern but attractive, which tells you he’s…
“Officer Bradford, I presume,” you reply as you stand. “I am. I understand if she’s busy, though. I can surprise her later.”
“Surprise? Oh, you’re the friend that lives in France.”
Your eyes widen in surprise that he’d remember that. When you nod, he turns and walks away. Left to stare after him, you shrug and pick up your bag. You have Lucy’s address, so you’ll wait for her at her apartment.
“Yes, sir,” Lucy says.
You stop and watch the doorway where Tim went, and when Lucy steps through, she freezes.
“No more French countryside in the background, as requested,” you joke.
Lucy gasps as she runs toward you, and you’re wrapped in a signature Lucy hug. You tighten your arms around her as she whispers how much she missed you.
“Napa’s not close enough to the French riviera for you, Chen?” Tim asks as she steps out of your arms.
“Oh,” you tut, shaking your head at him. “There’s no comparison, mon chéri.”
Tim’s lips quirk up as he tilts his head to the side. You ignore Lucy’s questioning look or her growing smile following your pet name.
“I know you’re at work,” you tell Lucy, “but I just had to let you know I was here.”
“Thank you! I’ll give you a key to my apartment and you can stay with me, okay?”
“Lucy, I can’t impose-“
“Forget I asked, I’ll get the key.”
Lucy rushes away before you can argue further, and you’re left alone with Tim again.
“Thank you for letting me see her,” you say. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I just didn’t want to hear her complain about missing you for another hour of patrol.”
You smile and agree, “Sure.”
“Uh, so, how long are you in town?”
“I’m not sure yet,” you answer with a shrug. “I came in on a one-way ticket.”
Tim nods, his fingers fidgeting along his belt. “Chen’s taking a while.”
“She is.”
After an awkward pause, Tim sighs and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Yes?” you encourage.
“If you need anything while you’re here, I could- could help you out. If you want.”
“And how would I be able to ask for your help?”
“I could give you my number.”
“What would Lucy think?” you ask quietly, smiling so Tim knows you aren’t saying no.
“Probably a lot.”
You laugh as you pass your unlocked phone to Tim. He types his information in quickly, then sends himself a text before he returns your phone, his fingers brushing yours.
“Here you go!” Lucy announces as she returns. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back around 7, after my shift ends.”
“Merci, amie.”
As you hug Lucy, you wink at Tim over her shoulder. A trip to Los Angeles was the right choice for more reasons than you thought.
“What’s mon chéri mean?” Tim asks as he and Lucy leave the station after their shift.
“I think that’s a question for the one who called you that, Tim,” Lucy replies. “Maybe you should take her out to dinner and ask all about it.”
“But we-“
“You’re terrible at hiding your vast emotional range, Tim. Call her.”
The next night, you meet Tim outside a restaurant of his choosing. After you gifted Lucy the YSL bag and a vintage band t-shirt, she repaid your kindness by letting you borrow a dress and helping you prepare for your date with Tim Bradford. Now, you laugh to yourself as Tim walks to greet you.
“Petit Trois,” you murmur. “You do know that taking a French girl to an American French restaurant is probably a terrible idea, right?”
“Probably. But the chef is French, and you’re the only person I know that can tell me if this is authentic cuisine,” Tim answers. “Unless you’re in the mood for American, in which case, there’s a McDonald’s down the street.”
“No, let’s try little three. If they don’t have éclairs au chocolate, though, you owe me a Frosty.”
Tim offers his arm, and you loop your arm through his as he leads you inside. The conversation comes easily, and between Tim, Lucy, and all of the good memories you have here, you’re beginning to wonder if you even want to return to France anytime soon.
“You met Lucy when you were kids?” Tim inquires after you order.
“I did. My dad’s American, and we spent summers in California when I was young. Lucy was the best friend I ever had, and we stayed close. Even after I moved back to France full-time.”
“What’s your favorite thing about France? Besides the pastries, of course.”
“The scenery, the slow and easy pace. It’s so different from America, but it’s beautiful.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“What about you? What makes California home?”
“The Dodgers.” You shake your head, and Tim offers, “Everything I love is here. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I feel most like me in Los Angeles, I guess.”
“That’s beautiful, mon chéri.”
Tim still doesn’t know what it means exactly, but he falls for you when you take his hand and call him yours. Everything that you love about France, what makes it beautiful and special to you, he sees it in you: your beauty, kindness, and grace. Lucy seemed to think something would happen between you and Tim, and, for once, he wouldn’t mind if she was right.
A week after arriving in Los Angeles, you’ve settled into Lucy’s guest room and have made no plans to leave. You’ve gone out with Tim, caught up with Lucy, and remembered why you loved summers in Los Angeles.
“Lucy,” you begin as you bake macarons together. “Can I ask you something?”
“About Tim?” she guesses.
“Not just Tim. I… I’ve been thinking a lot and I’m not sure I want to go back to France. Not for a while, at least.”
“Are you serious?” Lucy asks excitedly, dropping her spoon onto the counter. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”
“So, you’d be okay with it? Me staying? I could get my own place or pay rent, whatever, but…”
“Of course, I’d love to have you here!”
“Do you think Tim will want to keep seeing me if I stay?” you ask softly.
Lucy lays her hands on your shoulders and smiles. “Tim feels exactly the same. He wants you to stay because he likes spend time with you. Maybe even more than that.”
“But, he-“
“No,” Lucy interrupts. “Trust me on this. You have to follow your heart. You taught me that when we were kids, remember? My heart couldn’t buy me a plane to France, but it was still good advice.”
You nod and lean forward to hug Lucy. “Merci,” you say against her shoulder. “I’ll follow my heart.”
Lucy pushes you back and points to the door. “Do it now.”
“The macarons,” you argue.
“I can finish them!” she replies. Then, she purses her lips and admits, “I can do my best.”
You assure her they’ll be perfect before you grab your bag and rush out the door. Your outfit feels incomplete without the jacket you like to wear over your tied shirt, but it’s the least of your concerns as you follow your heart straight to Tim Bradford.
“Hey,” he greets as he opens the door. “Did we have plans? I was just-“
“Je t’aime,” you interrupt breathlessly. “I love you, Tim. And I’m staying in the States because all that my heart wants is here.”
“Don’t stay just for me or Lucy, okay?” he says, stepping toward you. “Whatever you want-“
“It’s all here. I want to stay.”
Tim smiles and says, “Well, with all this time, maybe you can teach me how to make your first love.”
“Éclairs au chocolat?” you fill in. “Anytime, mon amour.”
“What are you calling me?” he inquires.
You lay your hand against his cheek and promise, “We’ve got time for you to learn.”
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