Father's Faults
Father's Faults
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader
Summary: Tim is distracted by his memories of his father, so you find an unprecedented way to keep him focused. After he lashes out at you for overstepping, he realizes that you understand and have your own memories to battle. Rather than bonding over that, you accept what's been between you since you first met.
Warnings: discussion of child abuse, domestic violence, Tim and r have a lot of childhood and job-related trauma, angst to fluff, confessions and kisses
Word Count: 3.8k+ words
A/N: @nevereclipse inspired this with magnificent ideas about Tim and a traumatized reader. I hope you like it!!🤍
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There’s a scuff in the dashboard of Tim’s shop. It’s been there for as long as you can remember, but there’s something different about it today. Tracing the ragged scrape marks with your eyes, you try to come up with a story about how it got there or an explanation for its appearance. Anything other than acknowledging the tense silence in the car or your partner's tight grip on the steering wheel.
“7-Adam-100,” dispatch radios, “there’s an active home invasion in your area.”
“7-Adam-100 responding,” Tim replies, dropping the radio after he finishes.
You don’t speak, opting to look out the window as Tim drives to the address with the blue lights spinning. Part of you feels like you should know what’s bothering Tim, but he’s not exactly easy to read, nor is he willing to admit that something is going on. So, until - or if - you can deduce what’s making him so distant and easily angered this week, you’ll give him the room and the quiet he clearly desires.
“Side gate is open,” Tim says as he parks beside the neighbor’s house. “We’ll use it for entry, split up and clear the house. I’ll go right.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, opening your door.
As you follow Tim through the gate and duck under windows lining the side of the house, you focus on the job. Tim’s back muscles are tense beneath his uniform, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll think about him and let your guard down. Entering the broken back door, you tap Tim’s shoulder before you turn left into a small dining area. With your gun raised, you move quickly but carefully through the room. A crash sounds down the hall, so you press your back to the wall and move toward the noise, keeping your steps light and breathing quiet.
Tim exits a door behind you, and you drop your gun as soon as you realize it’s him. Moving together, you prepare to enter the room where the intruder is shouting demands.
“On three,” Tim whispers, covering the door so you can enter. “One. Two. Three.”
He pushes the door open, stepping into the doorway as you move inside.
“LAPD!” you announce. “Put your hands up!”
The large man - whose boot likely matches the shoe print on the back door - bares his teeth at you before he turns to the woman guarding her son. They’re both sporting bruises and a wound at the woman’s hairline drips blood down her cheek.
“Let me see your hands!” you demand, stepping toward the man.
Tim doesn’t move, his eyes bouncing between the suspect and the young boy cowering behind his mother.
“It’s my house,” the man says.
“Not anymore,” the woman interjects. “We have a restraining order.”
With his jaw clenched, Tim lowers his gun and steps forward. “Last chance. You walk out with us or you can keep being a coward and we’ll drag you out.”
The man sneers, turning toward Tim as he prepares to lunge. You holster your weapon quickly, pulling your taser out instead. Pointing it at the larger man’s chest, you shake your head.
“Is that your son?” you ask. “Do you really want him to remember you like this?”
He hesitates, then swings. Tim ducks out of his reach at the last second, and you depress the trigger on the taser, sending 1,500-volt pulses through his body as he folds in on himself and collapses.
Tim steps over the man’s leg to cuff him, and you set your taser down to approach the man’s son and his ex-wife. The boy clings to his mother but looks up at your shield with a small smile.
“We’re Code 4, need an RA at this location,” Tim alerts. “One in custody.”
“This card has my number on it,” you say, offering a large cardstock square to the woman before you. “There’s also a list of numbers on the back that can help support you during this time. The domestic violence hotline can give you information about keeping your address private and hopefully preventing something like this in the future.”
“Thank you,” she replies. “He just showed up out of nowhere.”
You pull a tissue off a nearby table and offer it to her, watching her son as she presses it to her bleeding forehead. The ambulance is only a few minutes away, but you kneel to check on the boy.
“Let’s go,” Tim murmurs, hauling the abusive father to his feet.
“I need an ambulance!” he moans. “She tased me.”
“You will be seen, but you’re trespassing.”
“I can’t walk,” he argues.
“Then I’ll drag you,” Tim snaps.
The man stands then, his head hanging toward his chest as he pulls his feet rather than taking normal steps. You notice that Tim has his hand on the handcuffs rather than the suspect’s arm. Tim's past, you remember. Tim has been in this situation before, he knows precisely what this mother and child are thinking, and that’s why he reacted like he did. There has to be more to it, though.
Tim is thinking about something and he endangers himself every time the thought surfaces.
“Bradford is all yours,” Angela says, shaking her head as she exits Wade’s office. “I know he’s going through some stuff, but how do you deal with him when he’s like this?”
“What’s he going through?” you ask, looking through the glass door.
“It’s almost the anniversary of his dad’s death,” she explains. “I understand being a little touchy, but-”
“We took a domestic call this morning,” you complain, pressing your thumb and forefingers against your eyes. “I didn’t realize the date. I should have told him to let someone else handle it.”
“He’s a cop, he can handle the job,” Angela assures you. She looks at Tim and sighs. “I just… none of us can get through to him. It’s like he’s holding himself hostage in his own memories.”
“I- I’ll see what I can do,” you offer.
“Don’t beat yourself up if he won’t talk. And don’t take anything he says this week personally.”
“You ready?” Tim asks, exiting Wade’s office.
“Yeah,” you answer, nodding to Angela as you follow Tim back to the shop. If he’s thinking about his dad too much, maybe you can give him something else to consider.
The corner store is silent as you walk down the center aisle. At midnight, the building is empty, the radio is off, and the cashier sits silently at the register, earbuds in as she stares at her phone. You should find the silence enjoyable after being yelled at by Tim four times in one night. Instead, it makes you uncomfortable, desperate for something to happen.
“Aha,” you murmur when you find the small selection of cleaning products.
It’s probably a bad idea, you think while you fill the small, handheld shopping basket with various items. You tried to get Tim’s mind off his dad, and their strained past, but none of your attempts were successful. He thought about you long enough to yell, accuse you of overstepping, and make vague threats to discourage you from attempting to make small talk with him. But even then, he retreated into his mind as soon as you agreed and fell quiet again.
“Uh,” the cashier mumbles when you place the basket on the counter. “Is this… you good?”
You look at the odd collection of items ranging from candy and a Dodgers sweatshirt to twine and a spray bottle, smiling. “Yeah.”
“Whatever you say.”
Tim glances at your bag as you place it on the floorboard of the shop but doesn’t say anything. You’ll let him reach his own conclusions about its contents for now. After double-checking with Angela this morning, you learned that there are two days until the actual anniversary of Tom Bradford’s death, and you plan to help Tim through the next forty-eight hours, no matter what it takes.
Now that you've been reminded of the date, it’s clear that Tim is thinking about his father. His tight jaw, distant stare, defiant act of threatening an abusive father, and how he stands at least a foot away from everyone, even if it’s someone he knows and trusts, it's all indicative of his trauma response. Thinking back to yesterday, you remember that he stiffened when you touched his back during calls, and it all begins to make sense.
Tim has a tell, you discover. When he’s thinking about his past, his nostrils flare. You will never admit to watching him that closely, especially not to someone like Angela or Nell, who are convinced you’re in love with him. Yet, you observed him enough yesterday afternoon and during roll call to confirm your suspicion. Even as you watch him now, his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and his nostrils flare quickly.
“What’s your opinion on stop and frisk?” you inquire.
His hand relaxes as he furrows his brows and asks, “As a policing technique or in general?”
“Policing.”
“So, Terry stops. I think that if there’s reasonable suspicion and no bias it is a useful and protective tactic.”
“Interesting. How can you tell if there’s bias, though? And what makes suspicion reasonable?”
“What are you doing?” Tim asks.
“I’m making conversation, getting opinions, learning,” you list dramatically. “Is that so bad?”
“When we’re in this shop, we’re partners. I’m not your personal podcast.”
“That would actually be really nice,” you reply. “Anyone ever told you your voice is soothing?”
“Stop.”
“It’s just a question!”
“Stop.”
You lift your hands in surrender and turn into your seat properly again. Tim drives through a green light, sees a father walking his son into a playground, and the look returns. You sigh and pull your bag open.
“What was that?!” Tim exclaims, swerving slightly as his right hand raises to his face.
“It’s water,” you answer, shaking the spray bottle. “I need you focused. I can’t worry about you or we’ll both get killed.”
“Focused? I am your superior!” Tim argues as he wipes his hand on his pants.
“Then work with me,” you plead.
“What makes you think I’m unfocused?” he inquires.
“You’re thinking about other things. Just… keep your mind in this shop today, and I won’t spray you again.”
“If you like this job you won’t spray me again,” Tim amends.
“If that’s what you need to hear.”
“She bought Wesley a tie with lobsters on it,” Angela tells Nyla.
“My dad has a tie with fish,” Lucy says. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You called?” you interrupt as you follow Tim to the detectives' desks.
“Yeah, we need you to run down a lead,” Nyla answers. “Unless you’d rather hear about Lucy’s dad’s ugly ties.”
“Hey, I chose some of those ties! Father’s Day is coming up if you want to know where I got them,” she offers.
“Oh, I already bought James a gift,” Nyla answers with faux disappointment.
“What lead?” Tim asks.
Standing behind Tim with one hand behind your back, you spray him without anyone noticing. He turns his head toward you, his eyes warning you to stop. You smile, nodding along with Nyla’s explanation.
“I am not a cat,” Tim whispers as you exit the station.
“Then take the hint,” you reply softly.
Nyla’s lead was indeed helpful, and you deliver a new suspect to the station before you return to patrol. In the shop, you hold the spray bottle in your lap as Tim drives. When you move your fingers toward the top, Tim slams on the brakes and snatches it out of your hand.
“You don’t get to decide what I think about!” he exclaims. “If you’re so worried that I can’t do this job right now, then get out and go back to the station.”
“Tim, that’s not what-”
“It is not your business,” he continues. Loudly. You flinch, but he's too mad to notice. “It is not your place to be my therapist and tell me to only think about good things or to stay in the moment. Whatever it is you think is on my mind is not worth this!”
You take several breaths, watching Tim’s chest heave.
“I know it’s almost the anniversary,” you say, forcing your voice to stay level as you press your palms against your thighs. “Your dad… he clearly got to you, your childhood affects you. And that’s okay. I’m not saying to forget everything or let those experiences become meaningless.”
“Then let it go.”
You look down at your hands as Tim drops the spray bottle beside your feet and begins driving again.
“I’m sorry,” you offer after several minutes. “It was affecting you, and I thought giving you something else to think about would help.”
“Not your call,” Tim grumbles.
Nodding, you locate the scuff on the dashboard, staring at it until your vision blurs.
“How’d that mark get there?” you whisper.
“What?” Tim asks, glancing toward you. “I don’t know.”
“There were marks on my mom’s dash, too,” you say. “Nobody knew how they got there. Nothing we would admit while my dad was around, anyway.”
Tim’s eyes find you again, his gaze different. But you’re still looking at the scratched plastic.
“It was like a switch was flipped,” you confess. “One day, he was at a recital, cheering on his baby. And the next… there were marks on the dashboards and new scars that- that I didn’t ask for. So, I have an idea of how painful the memories can be, how far and how fast they can drag you under until it feels like you’re drowning. I went about it wrong, and I can see that now, so I’m sorry. But my intentions are still the same. I don’t want to sit by while a memory of being hurt keeps hurting you.”
Tim doesn’t reply as he shifts his eyes back to the road. You don’t watch him during the remainder of your shift to know if his nostrils flare or if his breathing returns to normal after his outburst. What you do know is that if Tim is willing to let himself be controlled by memories, you can’t stay close enough to watch it happen.
Scrolling through your notifications as you exit the station, you let your body run on autopilot as you make your way home. You’re nearly across the parking lot when someone says your name. You stop and look up, surprised to see Tim’s full attention on you.
“Lopez thinks you were flirting with me,” Tim says, leaning against the tailgate of his truck.
“When?” you ask. There are several feet between you, and you’d prefer to keep it that way.
“Well, she says it pretty often, but the spray bottle. She noticed that my back was wet, saw it in the shop, put it together.”
You nod, holding your phone with both hands so you don’t fidget and expose how uncomfortable you are.
“Could we talk?” Tim asks.
“Not if it’s about me flirting with you,” you reply lightly.
Tim’s lips quirk up. “No. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you flirt, and that wasn’t it.”
“Then, what do you want to talk about?”
“What I’m not supposed to think about.” Tim slides his hands into his front pockets and shrugs. “I should talk to someone, not just retreat into who I used to be, dissect what could have been different. I just thought… If I’m going to talk, I need to tell someone I trust. Someone who understands.”
“And that’s me? Last I heard, I was overstepping and needed to let it go.”
Tim nods, stepping back toward his driver’s door.
“But,” you call after him, “if you’ve changed your mind, we can talk.”
Tim’s house is warm, comfortable, manly, and everything you expected. Yet, it’s awkward as you lower onto his couch and watch him move in his kitchen. It’s oddly domestic, but the connection between you and Tim is hanging on by a thread.
“I’m not mad at you,” Tim says suddenly. With his hands spread on the counter, he watches you. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I… my mind feels like my archenemy some days, and I fight that battle alone. You tried to help, and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
“No one knows the mess we’re in,” you agree. “The voices in my head say I’m being paranoid, but I know it will pull me under someday if I let it. You don’t have to apologize, Tim. I get it.”
“I don’t know what hurts worse, letting go or remembering,” Tim adds, walking to the couch with two glasses. He sets one in front of you, then sits beside you. There’s not as much distance between you now, but the vulnerability makes it feel like you’re exposed face-to-face.
“You were right,” Tim admits. “I’ve been thinking about what happened when I was a kid, wondering where everything went wrong, trying to identify something I could have done differently. Now that he’s gone, I guess I’ll never know.”
“Tim,” you breathe out, your heart breaking for him. “That was not your fault. None of it was because of you.”
“You’ve never wondered?”
“I didn’t say that.” You lift your glass, holding it between your hands to look down at it. “I used to lay awake at night trying to figure out what part of me was so broken that someone would do that to me. Especially someone I loved and who was supposed to love me.”
“But it’s not our fault,” Tim repeats. “It’s theirs.”
“And we can’t save everyone.”
“We shouldn’t have had to save anyone. Not even ourselves. I think back now, and I don’t remember my dad ever hitting my mom. He was verbally abusive, threatened to go farther, exhausted her emotionally and mentally. I tried to stay between him and Genny.”
“From what I’ve heard, you protected Genny from more than the bruises,” you offer. “You’re an incredible person, Tim.”
Tim smiles, turning his head toward you as his elbows rest on his thighs. “Was that flirting?”
“You’ll know when I’m flirting, Bradford,” you answer with a smile.
“When I was deployed, there were a couple guys whose wives divorced them,” Tim begins. “I found myself wondering why my mom didn’t do that. My dad would disappear for a week or so here and there. She could have left, but she didn’t.”
“I think moms try to fix everything in the only way they know how. If my mom even knew, she never showed it. But, I wondered the same thing. 20/20 hindsight, I guess.”
Tim empties his glass, then says, “Thank you.”
“For what?” you inquire, setting your cup beside his.
“The stuff in my locker? No one else would have put it there.”
You duck your chin to hide your smile. “It’s what I wanted when I was stuck in this cycle as a kid. I had panic attacks for a while. Music, something comfortable to wear, something rough to hold and ground myself with, and snacks I wouldn’t get otherwise felt like an escape to a world where I was safe, different.”
“I saw a therapist who told me to find ‘a portal to a better world’ when my PTSD was at its worst,” Tim says, leaning back against the couch, his hand falling toward you. “I was reliving memories that were killing me, and couldn’t figure out how to stop the bloodshed long enough to discover Narnia.”
“Narnia?” you repeat. “I didn’t realize you were a man of taste.”
“Next time, you won’t try to distract me with sports.”
“No. Although, I’d prefer a world where there isn’t a next time.”
“That’s a world we’d have to make.”
You lock eyes with Tim, shifting closer to him as the soft hum of his air conditioner fills the room.
“Are you okay?” you whisper, brushing your fingers against Tim’s.
“Would it sound like I was flirting if I said I am now?” he questions, leaning toward you as he smiles.
“Maybe,” you admit. “But would that be such a bad thing?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Me neither. After all, you trust me and I understand.”
Tim rolls his eyes at your teasing, and when you inhale, preparing to continue, he raises his right hand to your face, holding your jaw. You silence, watching Tim’s eyes.
“I don’t…” he begins. “I don’t want to be crutches.”
“Tim,” you breathe. “We’re not showing each other our scars to learn how to support each other. I’m telling you who I am because you make me better. You help me see who I am now, not who I force myself to see in the mirror. You aren’t my salvation, but I think you could be something.”
“I’ve lived in fear for most of my adult life that I couldn’t love someone, that I could tell them the truth about everything, about me. With you… telling the truth is as easy as breathing.”
“Breathing before, after, or during a panic attack?” you clarify.
“Why are we even having this conversation?” Tim jokes, shrugging. “You’ve been flirting with me for years, you clearly want me.”
“Then I guess it’s up to you,” you reply. “We’re at the edge, Tim. It’s your call. Are we going over the edge or running back to safety?”
“Tell me something about yourself,” Tim requests, pushing your hair over your shoulder.
You hum, dragging your fingers along his forearm. “I thought I was undesirable until I was, like, mid-20s.”
“What changed?”
You shrug. “Put on the uniform, met a few badge bunnies, I don’t know. I still feel it sometimes.”
“With me?”
“No,” you whisper. “But I think you see more than my face. Your turn.”
Tim licks his lips as he thinks. “You know all my secrets now.”
“Then tell me something that isn’t a secret.”
“I didn’t think I’d be able to fall in love after Isabel. Not until a few years ago.”
“You had a girlfriend?”
Tim laughs. “What else changed a few years ago?”
You trace your own life back one year, then two, then… “Oh. Me?”
“Oh. You,” Tim repeats. “I was also called Reaper in the Army.”
“That’s so much cooler than falling in love with me. How’d you get that name?”
Tim’s lips are mere inches from you as he asks, “Is that really what you want to focus on right now?”
“Promise you know we’re not crutches?” you request.
Tim takes your hand and says, “I know. You’re clearly more of a walker.”
You huff, but Tim closes the distance - finally - and kisses you slowly. With his hand on your face, your hands joined, and your knees against his thigh, you forget everything except Tim Bradford and the future you want with him.
He pulls back first, searching your eyes before you drop your chin and kiss a scar on his neck. Tim takes a shaky breath as you sit back on your socked feet. You’d felt so out of place when you first arrived, and now you’re not sure you want to leave the comfort and seclusion of Tim’s home and his arms.
“You know we’re not going to be allowed to ride together anymore, right?” Tim asks.
“Yeah. Now we can do so much more,” you reply.
“Such a flirt,” Tim murmurs.
“I’m here for you,” you remind him. “No matter when, no matter what.”
Tim smiles as he pulls you closer. “Prove it.”
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
hey I was wondering if I could request a Wally x batsis!reader x Roy where the two are fighting over batsis and the batboys are taking sides and getting a little too invested in her love life, thanks luv!!❤️
Warnings: references to sex, cursing,
word count: 0.6k
Y/N Wayne was the crush of hundreds of thousands of people and it was obvious why. Her gorgeous brown skin managed to shimmer under the Gotham clouds, her smile that could replace the sun, and she had a heart that was pure. Her track record was not as clear. Having dated a few professional basketball players, a few cheerleaders, and even a few actors, no one really stuck around. Not like Wally and Roy, at least.
Wally had a crush on Y/N from the first time that Dick invited him over. Of course, Y/N was a year or two older than him but that did not stop him from flirting with her. Dick always hit him in the back of the head after he did but Wally thought it was well worth it. Especially, because Y/N was his first kiss, not that he told Dick that. He figured that he would grow out of his childhood crush but he never did. Sure he dated other girls but something about Y/N kept drawing him back.
Roy had a crush on Y/N since Jason broke into her apartment while they needed a place to lay low. He remembers the night like it was yesterday. Jason had slipped the both of them into a rather nice safe house, which ended up being a condo. Y/N was supposed to be at fashion week in Paris but she ended up not going. When she heard footsteps in her apartment, she threw two batarangs at Roy's head and he'd been infatuated ever since. Not to mention, she babysits Lian from time to time and he nearly melts every time he sees them together.
"I'm telling you, she's gonna end up with Roy," Jason spoke as he and Dick were playing Super Smash Bros. It had been a big debate between the two.
"Nah, Wally doesn't have as much baggage. Love the guy but not for my sister," Dick was honest. Wally seemed to be the option with the least difficulties. However, they were Waynes and if their love wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be them.
"Oh, so you'd rather our sister be with someone who regularly disappears into the speed force," Jason countered as he unlocked his special move in the game. He regularly kicked Dick's ass in this game but for some reason, Dick insisted on playing it.
"What are you guys talking about?" Y/N asked as she walked into the home theater. She couldn't find her other siblings so she was stuck with these two for now.
"You need to pick between Roy and Wally," Jason stated as he put the game on pause. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the sudden statement. No one in her family had ever demanded something of her before.
"First of all, I don't have to do shit but stay black and die. Second of all, I am trying," She whined a little.
"I mean it can't be that hard," Dick said hoping to lighten the mood.
"How's Kori? Or are you with Babs?" Y/N asked looking him in his eyes. Dick was taken aback as he put his hand on his chest.
"Damn," Jason mumbled, he was suddenly grateful that his love life was not being broadcasted.
"Low blow, man," Dick sniffled.
"I like them both," Y/N admitted. She wasn't sure which one she liked more. They both were great in their own ways. She also didn't want to be a heartbreaker.
"Which one do you like better?" Jason asked, wishing for a little clarity. He was really hoping she was leaning more toward Roy.
"Well, Wally can vibrate his entire body but Roy does this thing with his tong-," Y/N started. She knew saying this would allow her brothers to leave her alone.
"No! No! I do not need to know," Dick started screaming while covering his ears. He quickly left the theater room and did not bother to look back.
"So, what'd we learn?" Y/N asked while looking at her remaining brother.
"Not to ask about your love life." Jason made a face of disgust while Y/N just smiled.
It's Commander, Sergeant
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army-FBI!reader
Summary: After years of thinking about Tim Bradford, you meet him again during a riot in Los Angeles. When he learns you outrank him, he falls... hard.
Warnings: incorrect Army terminology and actions, depiction of riots, fluff! a couple Call of Duty references. Also, I grew up ten minutes from Fort Rucker, so I'm allowed to trash talk it.
Word Count: 2.7k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
When you joined the Army immediately after graduation, you didn’t expect it to become a career. What surprised you more was meeting Tim Bradford. You only met him once, but he stayed with you, a firm and commanding yet protective and loyal personality that was impossible to forget. Now, years later, you continue to think about him occasionally, hoping he’s doing well and happy. He inspired you to work through the ranks and do something more meaningful than just obeying as you’re told. Not that being a soldier and taking orders is unimportant, as you’ve explained to the troops you are now Master Sergeant of. Personally, you felt a calling to do more.
“Master Sergeant, Sergeant Major Riley is here to see you,” a soldier says, standing at attention in your doorway.
“I’ll be right out to meet him. Thank you, Private,” you reply kindly.
You are a different kind of Master Sergeant, unwilling to act higher than the men and women who answer to you. Your respect for others, regardless of rank, has made you a favorite on base.
“No need. Is now a good time?” Riley asks, taking the Private’s place.
“Of course. What can I do for you, Sergeant Major Riley?”
“There’s a developing situation in Los Angeles. If you and your team are up for it, I’d like to send you in to help.”
“Los Angeles? Who has jurisdiction?”
Riley chuckles, shaking his head, as he says, “I knew that would be your first question. Not ‘what’s the situation?’ because that’s boring, right?”
“Something like that, sir.”
“The LAPD called in military reinforcements for an out-of-control rioting issue.”
“When do we leave?”
“1700 hours. Tell your troops.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“How’s everyone enjoying US Army Garrison Italy?” you ask your team, composed of twenty of the best soldiers.
“The men- the view is beautiful, Master Sergeant,” one of the female soldiers says.
“I’d have to agree. But we’re heading back to the States. There’s a riot issue in Los Angeles and they’ve called for the best to come in and help.”
“Riot control? Now, we’re talkin’, ma’am!”
“Los Angeles, California?” someone asks.
“What other Los Angeles is there, man?” a second voice replies.
You clear your throat, and everyone in the room snaps to attention. Smiling, you nod and confirm that your destination is Los Angeles, California.
“We leave at 1700 sharp. Helos are standing by. And before you ask, no, I don’t know when or if we’ll be back. LAPD is running point on this - listen closely, we are assisting. This is about the safety of US citizens. Not proving grounds or a test to become a Ranger. They’re calling the shots, but you still answer to me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am!” your team yells together.
“Then let’s get out there and protect our home.”
As you leave, someone whispers, “I’m gonna miss Italy.”
You agree, but your job is about more than the view from the base. As you pack to return to California, you wonder if you’ll ever be back to Italy.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Master Sergeant. Thank you for coming so quickly. I am Sergeant Wade Grey, I’m Watch Commander of the LAPD Mid-Wilshire division,” Grey introduces, shaking your hand.
“Nice to meet you, sir. Tell us where you need us, and we’ll be there.”
“We’ve got six teams out there right now, covering what we consider the biggest targets, but I’ll get you in touch with my lead Sergeant.”
“Is he in the field? We’d be happy to meet him where he is and take his direction from there.”
Wade sighs, a relieved smile appearing on his face. “You’re the best person in the state right now, Master Sergeant. He’s at the Wilshire Federal Building, the intersection of Wilshire and the 405. We’re running short on equipment, but we can get you transport.”
“Oh, we’ve got a ride. And, Sergeant Grey, feel free to drop the formalities,” you offer before telling him your first name.
“Only if you call me Wade,” he replies. “Wait- don’t tell me you have an APC parked outside my station.”
“We don’t. We have an M113 APC, a light tank, and six more vehicles waiting for a destination. You called for riot control, and we’re going to control some riots.”
“If you ever get tired of the Army, the LAPD would be happy to have you.”
“Unless you can offer me a station in Italy and as many armored vehicles as I can drive, I think I’m happy where I am.”
“Fort Irwin is scenic.”
You walk backward as you exit the office, tilting your head to the side as you consider. “Italian oceanside or California desert. Guess which I’m picking?”
“Good luck out there.”
“Thank you, sir- Wade.”
✯✯✯✯✯
The moment you jump off the side of the APC, two LAPD officers rush to you and your group of four soldiers. Splitting your team into five groups and sending one to join each of the LAPD squadrons seemed to be the best option. One of your team members introduces you to an officer, who nods and ushers you to follow him.
“Master Sergeant, this is LAPD Sergeant-“
“Bradford?”
Tim tilts his chin, his eyes the only part of his face you can see past his helmet and shield. You’d know him anywhere after countless nights of thinking of him and being inspired by him.
“Have we met, Master Sergeant?” he asks, his voice raised over the crowd gathering on Wilshire Boulevard.
Someone throws a flaming bottle of alcohol toward the steps of the building, and you motion for your team to push the crowd back.
“Later, Sergeant Bradford. Care to tell me what’s going on?” you ask.
“LA courts decided to take a bunch of cases back to trial, deal with overcrowding, standard procedures. But… you get it.”
“Don’t want ‘em out or want to make sure they do get out. Yeah, I know the answer, though I’ve never understood the thought process behind it.”
“You and me both. What are we supposed to do to show them this won’t change anything?”
Glancing at the crowd, you weigh the options. “Realistically, getting violent is only going to make this worse. I’m not suggesting a negotiation, but… what if we try stopping?”
“We’re not setting down our arms and opening the gates for them to storm the Wilshire Federal Building!” Tim yells.
“Then what would you like to do? Stand here until the trials are done?”
“That’s not-“
“Look, I don’t want to pull rank but if you’re just going to stand here and argue with me, I will, Sergeant Bradford,” you reply. His jaw clenches beneath his helmet, and you offer, “Half of your men lower their shields, a show of good faith. Then we go from there.”
Tim lowers his shield, stepping toward you to threaten, “If anything happens to my men, it is on your hands. This isn’t your home, but it’s mine.”
“I understand how this works, Sergeant Bradford. And I’m not telling you to do it alone.”
You push past him, leading two soldiers to the front line, dropping your shield, and raising your hands. The crowd members closest to you stop, looking at you curiously.
“There is a court schedule available online!” you yell. “If you have a loved one that you would like to advocate for, call the courts, call their defenders, and tell them why someone is worthy of freedom at the proper time and place! But don’t risk your own freedom, don’t take the lives of your neighbors or your peace officers in the process!”
You signal for all of the officers to raise their shields again. As the crowd storms forward, you rush into the fray, letting your training take over as you disarm the citizens around you.
“Down on the ground!” you yell, panting as the tank approaches behind you.
At the sight of the tank, the men and women standing in the road begin kneeling, lowering their weapons, and raising their hands. The LAPD rush forward, doing their jobs as you send your team to give your orders to the other soldiers you brought back to the States.
“That shouldn’t have worked,” Tim says, approaching from behind you.
Turning toward him, you sigh and remove your helmet. “Lots of things shouldn’t work, Sergeant Bradford.”
“You know my name; care to tell me why?”
Pressing your lips together to hide your smile, you walk past him, calling over your shoulder to say, “Never expected I’d have a higher ranking than you, Sarge!”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Is the Master Sergeant here?” Tim asks as he enters the bullpen.
“She’s with her team, briefing their superiors.” Wade smiles before asking, “Why would you like to know?”
“She knew my name. I can’t place her though.”
“She’s Army, you were Army… think about it, Tim.”
“I met hundreds of people in the Army, Wade-“
“Not all of them stay in the Army and work their way through the rankings because you inspired them,” you say, standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem,” Wade says, adding your first name while looking toward Tim.
Tim looks past you, clearly trying to place your name.
“I met you my first year, we were only in the same room for a few minutes and didn’t say more than a few words to each other. But you inspired me. You were a good soldier, a better leader, and I wanted to do what you did.”
“And now you’re a sergeant?”
Smiling, you correct, “It’s Master Sergeant, Sergeant.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“You got a little drool right there,” Angela jokes, pointing to the corner of Tim’s mouth. “What’s so special about her?”
“She outranks me,” Tim answers.
“Okay. Lots of people do.”
“Yeah,” Wade adds from Tim’s other side. “You don’t look at me like that.”
“No offense, Wade, but you’re not as pretty,” Angela replies.
Tim shushes them suddenly, nodding when you turn and see him. You smile at him, yet again drawn in by Tim Bradford’s presence and leadership. His not trusting you at first, yelling at you, was somewhat unexpected, but you’ve been in his place before. Trusting people as soon as you meet them is difficult, often impossible in your profession, but Tim’s quick change makes you smile. You’re a good leader, like him.
✯✯✯✯✯
“We’ve got a problem,” Wade calls, ending a phone call. “There’s another riot at Cal State Prison. LAPD and Lancaster PD can’t handle it alone.”
“We can never make it there in time,” Nolan responds. “It’s nearly 2 hours without traffic.”
“Now would be a good time to get a private jet or something, Thorsen,” Angela calls.
You pull your phone from your pocket, typing quickly before nodding. “I need Bradford,” you tell Wade. “And your landing pad.”
“What did you do?” Tim asks.
“Sikorsky X2 is five minutes out. We can get there and drop in 20 or less.” You raise a finger to point to everyone in the room. “This stays here. I’m not supposed to know the Army has one stateside.”
“Has a what?” Aaron asks.
“Good answer.”
“It only holds two crew members, but I’ve got a team out there that can ride in a cargo area. We’re going to need backup, so if you can get airships or anything, Sergeant Grey, please do. Let’s roll.”
Tim follows you quickly, jogging to catch up with you. “How’d you pull this off?”
“Somebody owed me a favor.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“That I inspired you to stay in the Army, to get here.”
“Oh.” You push open a door and begin climbing the stairs quickly. Stepping onto the roof, you look at Tim and say, “Ask me again when this is over.”
Tim waits until you turn away to smile. He can’t believe he forgot you, but your sacrificial, mutually beneficial leadership style, kindness, and abilities, not to mention that you outrank him, have him practically wrapped around your finger.
✯✯✯✯✯
Standing in the back of a helicopter and hooked to a rail, you lean out against the whipping air and feel weightless. The pain and concern of the day are wearing off, and as the sun sets, you’re glad you were asked to come to LA. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath.
Tim taps your side, and when he has your attention, he points West. The ocean is now visible, and the light ripples over the water, reflecting the pastel colors painting the sky. You smile at the view before looking back to Tim. Reaching up, you adjust the channel dial on his headset. He doesn’t even flinch at your sudden movement, and your smile grows as he leans toward you.
Looking at the soldiers behind you, you say, “If I think any of you can hear me, I’ll have you transferred to the worst base I can think of.”
No one except for Tim reacts, and he chuckles quietly.
“Okay, ask me again,” you request into your microphone.
“Did you really stay in the Army because of me?”
“Yes. You showed me what was possible, but your kindness toward me made me think I could do it too.”
“You could’ve done it without me.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Easy, Sergeant.”
“It’s-“
“Master Sergeant… when this illegally obtained helicopter lands, would you go to dinner with me?”
A soldier to your left moves, and you shake your head. “After this illegally obtained helo lands, and I have Henderson transferred to hot and humid Fort Rucker, Alabama, I would love to go to dinner with you.”
“Since you outrank me, surely you get paid better, so it’s on you?”
You lean toward Tim, pausing when your headset hits his. “I could also go back to Italy and see if anyone there is willing to take me to dinner.”
“Fine,” Tim groans. “I’ll pay, but only if you stay in town long enough to show me how much my inspiration paid off.”
✯✯✯✯✯
The dinner date does not go as planned. When you enter the police station, Sergeant Major Riley awaits you. He takes you into Wade’s office to talk, and Tim stands outside waiting for you.
Being a soldier means being sent to different places with only a moment’s notice, but being at your level makes things far more difficult and irregular. Tim may have missed his chance.
“Any idea what that’s about?” Tim asks Wade.
“No clue.”
You exit a moment later, your previous smile now absent. Tim tries to hide his disappointment, but he should have known getting into a relationship with a younger, yet higher ranking, soldier would never work.
“I blame you,” you tell Wade, stopping before him and Tim.
“What did I do?” he asks incredulously.
“You said there was an opening at Irwin, but you didn’t say that you only knew that because my Sergeant Major told you.”
“He may have mentioned it.”
“Anyone want to loop me in?” Tim asks tiredly.
“I’m moving to California. Leaving Italy behind to lead a new force,” you answer sadly. “No more authentic pasta for me.”
“Wait- you’re moving to California? Irwin, which is three hours from here?” Tim interjects.
“It’s your fault too,” you remember. “I let you inspire me to be a good leader and a good teacher, but now I’m paying for it.”
Riley calls your name, beckoning you back into the office. The second time you exit, you seem a bit more pleased.
“Is the offer for that date still on the table?” you ask Tim. “Looks like my team is going to be in LA county for a few days before I can get discharged.”
"Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about? You're getting out?" Tim asks, raising his hands in question.
"I'm receiving another raise in rank," you tell Tim, grabbing his extended wrist and pulling him toward the door. "But not in the Army."
✯✯✯✯✯
✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯
“Your form needs some work, but there’s potential,” you say.
“My, uh, my recruiter said that you take potential and make talent,” the recruit before you says.
Standing, you smile. “I like to think so. But I can’t do anything without your effort. So, are you willing to put in the work to do your best?”
“Yes, ma’am, Commander.”
“Then I only have one more question. Why do you want to join FBI special operations?”
“Commander,” someone scoffs from the doorway. “It’s like you take pride in increasing the divide between our ranks.”
Glancing over, you make a “shoo” gesture before finishing the recruit’s evaluation.
“Let’s go,” you tell Tim, gathering your things. “It’s been almost a year, and we still haven’t had an uninterrupted dinner date.”
“I’m not sure we ever will, Sarge.”
You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, brushing your lips over his before whispering, “It’s Commander, Sergeant.”
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.”
My Wife
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!secret wife!reader
Summary: While you're out running errands, a man takes a special interest in you. When he grabs you and thanks a police officer for finding you, his wife, he doesn't expect it to be your husband.
Warnings: angst?, stalking, non-consensual touching (not sexual), protective and angry Tim Bradford, fluff
Word Count: 2.2k+ words
Picture from Pinterest (the req said 😑 but this is 😐)
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
The small band on your left ring finger is the only evidence that you are married. Your husband doesn’t talk about you, yet it is clear that he loves you. When you wake up and find yourself alone in bed, you aren’t surprised. There’s a jewelry box on your nightstand with only one piece of jewelry in it, and you smile when you see there is a piece of paper lying across it.
Meet me at noon.
Tim Bradford is a man of few words, you know that well, but the idea of seeing him during a workday excites you. His secrecy regarding you and your relationship is understandable, but that doesn’t make it easier or help you miss him less. With the prospect of lunch with your husband to look forward to, you happily get out of your warm bed and begin getting ready for the day. You have several errands to run today, but you hope the morning goes quickly. Tim’s note is just as short as most of his speech, but you know exactly where you’re supposed to meet him.
While Tim leaves the station to go on patrol, you leave your house to go to your first stop. The store is nearly empty this early on a weekday, but you enjoy being able to browse without a rush. After finding everything you need, plus a few more items, you head toward the front of the store to pay for the items. In all the time you’ve spent moving through the store, you haven’t noticed one other customer.
From the moment you walked in, a man lurking in the center aisle took a special interest in you. He stayed back far enough that you wouldn’t get suspicious. When you pass him on your way to the checkout area, he decides that following you around the store isn’t enough, he wants to know where you go next and if the ring on your finger is worth anything. Monetary value or sentimental value, he doesn’t care, he just can’t let you out of his sight.
While loading your purchases into your car, you feel the unmistakable sensation of eyes on you. The area is growing busier, however, so you brush it off as someone trying to decide if they recognize you or are zoned out. Tim wouldn’t be happy about the lack of situational awareness, but he also knows what it is like to have people stare shamelessly at him.
The man drives his unassuming sedan two cars behind you and follows you to your next stop. It’s clear that you are shopping for a man, now, and the creep behind you is getting jealous. Your thoughts are completely consumed by Tim and what you are getting for him, so you don’t take notice of any of the men in the store. When you unlock your phone to check your list, you sigh at the time. 10:58 a.m. Noon is taking forever, and you are ready to see Tim.
With time for another stop or two, you leave, once again oblivious to the man following you. The pet store isn’t on your list, but when you see a sign for a buy one, get one sale on dog treats and toys, you make a sudden decision to get Kojo a few things as well. His dad can’t have all the attention, after all. In his car behind you, the man curses at your sudden turn and finds another entrance into the parking lot. Rather than following you in and risking losing you, he parks down the row from your car and waits for you to exit. You have two overflowing bags in your hands, and he considers for a moment jumping out and offering to help, but you stop by your car and set a bag down to open the door. It’s clear that you can take care of yourself, but you seem prone to having lapses in attention and failing to take in your surroundings, so the man decides to wait for a better opportunity to make something of you and the ring on your finger.
You are giddy with anticipation of presenting Kojo with all of his gifts. Now that you have more for him than you’ve purchased for you or Tim, you get back to your planned errands. There’s one store close to the place where you’re supposed to meet Tim, and with half an hour to spare, you decide to browse there. At ten ‘til noon, you park beside the small circle of food trucks. Living in Los Angeles has taught you never to leave anything visible in your car and the trunk liner Tim installed to hide your belongings is properly concealing your innumerable bags. Confident that everything is secure, you lock your car and walk toward Tim’s favorite truck. You’re early, so you take a seat and wait for him.
The man from the first store orders something from a food truck to blend in and sits almost directly behind you. He can tell that you are waiting for someone, but when he sees a cop approaching, he has a brilliant and devious idea. You stand as the police officer – your police officer - enters the dining area, and the man stands immediately after.
“Hey,” Tim greets with a smile. His smile drops as he watches a man move behind you, and his face remains impassive as he begins speaking.
“Officer,” the man behind you says. He releases an overly dramatic sigh as his hand wraps around your upper arm. His thumb digs into your skin, and your eyes widen slightly as you watch Tim. “Thank you for finding my wife, Officer… Bradford. She wanders off sometimes. What have I told you about paying attention, pretty girl?”
Tim’s face hasn’t changed since the man stood, and anger flares in his eyes. You watch as his jaw clenches, anticipating what he is going to do.
“Get your hand off my wife,” Tim demands lowly.
The hand around your arm tightens harshly, and he jerks you backward in his anger. He’s also confused because all of his hard work is slipping away; he doesn’t believe that a cop’s wife would be as careless as you and miss someone following her. So, he pulls you back as he moves and prepares to say more.
Tim expected a similar reaction, and the moment you step to the side to catch yourself, he surges forward and shoves the man off of you. When the creep hits the concrete, Tim rolls him onto his stomach and plants his knee directly between his kidneys. As the man groans in pain, Tim secures his handcuffs on his wrists and quickly recites his Miranda rights before calling for backup. Tim stands and you move to press a hand against his back. It’s a reminder that you are there, and that you’re safe because of him.
“Tim,” you begin quietly. “Do you want me to leave before everyone gets here? Or give them my maiden name?”
Tim shakes his head, but his eyes remain on the cuffed man writing in pain below him. “No. You’re my wife,” he answers.
You smile, and when Tim turns to check on you, some of the tension drains away. He moves a hand to your shoulder, and you know what he’s saying without speaking. You nod, a confirmation that you love him too.
“Bradford,” Nolan calls as he exits the shop. “What can we do?”
“Someone get him to booking, and we need statements,” Tim answers, effortlessly shifting into cop mode rather than husband mode. “Charge him with assault.”
“And stalking,” you add. “He’s been following me all morning.”
“You knew?” Tim and the man ask together.
“Suspected it after the second store, and I have a picture of him watching me when I left the pet store,” you explain.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tim asks.
“I was going to, but he beat me to it.”
Nolan asks you to step to the side with him and give him your statement. Tim nods to remind you that you can tell the truth. The secrecy is to keep you safe from people who would hurt you, not other cops.
“Can I get your name first? And any ID you have?” Nolan begins kindly.
You say your name and pass your driver’s license to him.
“Bradford?” Nolan asks. His shock is evident, and you press your tongue to your cheek, so you don’t laugh.
“Yes, sir. Where should I start my statement?”
“Uh, at- at the beginning. Just run me through your day.”
Nolan clearly has trouble listening, but he powers through the distraction and takes thorough notes. When Tim moves to your side and says he’ll bring you by to sign it later, Nolan wants to ask countless questions.
“So, that guy said he was your husband to your husband?” Nolan clarifies.
“Yep,” you answer.
Nolan turns to Tim and lowers his voice to ask, “You have a wife?”
“And I’m sure you will tell everyone,” Tim replies. “Just go file the report and we’ll be by in a bit.”
Nolan nods and rushes back to the shop. Tim waits until the other officers pull away to wrap his arms around you. Safe against Tim’s chest, you move your arms to circle his waist and sigh against him.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he replies without hesitation. “Are you okay? How’s your arm?”
“I’m okay,” you promise.
“What’d you get at the pet store?” he asks with a smile.
“Too much.”
“Kojo will be a happy boy.”
“What now?”
Tim leads you to your car and tells you to drive home. He follows you in his shop to take you back to the station. The moment you walk in with him, someone throws a handful of rice.
“Great,” Tim grumbles. “I didn’t think he’d start blabbing this soon.”
“I kinda like this,” you say. “About time I get to show you off.”
Tim rolls his eyes but lays a gentle hand on your lower back to lead you through the station. He introduces you to several people and endures jokes and teasing from each of them. If he wasn’t so grateful that you’re safe and uninjured, he’d put an end to the comments from his fellow officers, but he’s too distracted by you at his side to care much.
“So, you’re the secret wife that got assaulted while standing with your cop husband,” Wade muses.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask.
He shrugs and pulls you into a quick hug. Lucy and Nolan gasp from beside him.
“You knew?” they ask loudly.
“Course I did. I was at the wedding.”
“I was too,” Angela adds from her desk. “It’s nothing personal, you know. Tim just doesn’t like you as much.”
Tim shakes his head before asking everyone to be quiet. He stays by your side until you finish signing your statement.
“I’m not end of watch yet,” he says as he returns to the shop. “But I can try to leave early.”
“It’s fine- I’m fine, Tim,” you promise. “Just be careful and come home to me when you can, okay?”
Tim promises to do just that. When he does finally get home, though, you can see that he is still tense. He pulls you into a warm hug, but his shoulders are rigid, and his grip is that of a man who is guilty of something that isn’t his fault. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and rub gently.
“Hey, do you want a fashion show?” you murmur. “I bought some clothes today.”
Tim pulls back and smiles. He kisses you deeply to show you just how glad he is to be back in your arms. Your safety is one of the most important things to Tim, and you know it.
“Wait,” Tim says against your lips.
You are breathing heavily when you pull back and look into his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tim’s fingers move gently up your arm and his grip is the complete opposite of what you felt earlier. He looks at you for permission, and when you nod, he pushes your shirt out of the way to look at your upper arm. There’s a red mark surrounding it, and Tim’s brows crease when he sees it.
“I’m fine,” you promise quietly. “Thanks to you. I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if he’d done something sooner, but I know I’ll never have to with you around.”
Tim’s hand slides away from your arm, opting to hold your waist instead.
“You’re going to lock me in the house, now, aren’t you? Secret wife will take on a whole new meaning.”
Tim chuckles, and your eyes brighten at the sound. He kisses you again, not as slow or long, but just as impactful. You grip his shirt before leaning against him again.
“Did you give Kojo his new toys yet?” Tim asks.
“No. I was waiting for you.”
Tim rubs his hand along your back before whispering, “Was the fashion show a serious offer?”
You tilt your head back and laugh. “As if you’d sit through a fashion show, Tim Bradford.”
He leans in like he’s going to kiss you again, but instead says, “Try me.”
Besties get Banged
Angel Dust x FemReader Smut
➽─❥Angel Dust x MaleReader Smut version
You didn’t think Angel liked you the way you did him, how could you? While sharing a profession, he was nothing like you. He was the star in every room he entered. After being booked on a shoot together, you find maybe Angel wasn’t so ignorant to your existence.
Warning/Promises: Angel x Reader do not fuck but they do get banged, Val is going to ruin shit but I ain’t writing that part, Foursome but no one cares, handjob, cum countdown 💦, masturbation, making out, porno, vaguely threatening ending from Val
minors dni (👁️👄👁️🔪)
When Angel Dust slipped into the dressing room of Val’s ‘sex dungeon’, you struggled to keep your smile down. You’d never actually worked together. The two of you had attended the same awards shows, frequented the same clubs, danced the same stages. But never graced the same screen. Every encounter left you more and more enthralled. Always the life of the party, but when the crowds would die down Angel would become so sweet, talking with an emotional intelligence many sinners seemed to have lacked or intentionally abandoned at death.
Angel threw himself at many people, sometimes jokingly, sometimes not. But you’d be lying to say it didn’t sting he’d never propositioned you.
“Mornin’,” he plopped into the make-up chair beside you, hand lazily combing through his bedhead.
Angel hoped you hadn’t seen him pause when he saw you. He didn’t get butterflies often, but you always managed to make his stomach flutter. He felt so silly, a kid with a crush.
You knew Val wasn’t going to let it be just the two of you. He enjoyed watching you both get fucked too much. ‘Besties get Banged’ was written on the clapperboard. Angel gave you a wink, “Ooh besties! Is this work or just another Friday night?” His elbow hit a soft spot in your ribs, making you laugh.
“Stop— st-stop that. Get on the bed.” Val used all four arms to separate you, “Bitch number 1 on the left side, Bitch number 2 on the right.” He sat in his chair, arm angrily motioning for the large demons to enter the set already.
It was a standard enough shoot, until you and Angel found yourselves both on your knees, eye to eye from across the pink heart shaped bed. One yellow and one black eye looking back at you, hazy with pleasure as he was fucked dumb by some piece of muscle with a dick attached.
He looked so beautiful when he felt good. You reached out your hand to him, then the other. Fingers laced together, you both moaned into the space between yourselves. Angel’s eyebrows rose up, tongue coming out. His face was so flushed, cheeks pink. You weren’t sure it was an invitation, but you pulled yourself to him and ran your tongue over his. The demon behind you followed your body, trying to maintain contact.
Angel’s eyes rolled closed, tongue pushing into your mouth. The kiss interrupted again and again as the repeated pounding into your holes pulled your lips apart, your entire bodies moving in rhythm.
“Hey!,” Val yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Angel smiled at you, “Whats the matter Val?” He strained forward, capturing your mouth again.
“Stop kissing! You’re ruining it!”
“You never kissed a bestie? Awww,” Angel kept his lips near yours. “Val’s never had a real good friend before.”
Val’s antennae bristled, “Pull em apart, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Killing my fucking hard on. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
Your bodies were slid away, fingertips still reaching out to each other. You were flipped onto your back, pacing brutal as if making up for lost time.
Angel watched you, mouth lonely. His cock leaking from just a kiss. Reaching down, he began to stroke himself while enjoying his own personal show. Your body bouncing with the thrusts, eyes watery. He arched his back, looking across to where your body connected with the other demon. You looked so wet, so inviting.
“Angel!” Val seethed.
Angel’s closed his eyes, imagining you around his cock and not his fingers. His eyes shot open when he felt hands on his face. His fear dissolved into relief as he saw you had scooted back towards him, pulling him down for an upside-down kiss. Breath hot, he moaned into your mouth.
“Uh Boss, should we stop em again? It’s kinda hot.” The shark demon behind Angel slowed.
Your fingers slipped through his hair, bringing him deeper into your kiss. There was nothing else in the room anymore but you and Angel. Tongue rolling over tongue, breathy moans exhaled and inhaled.
Val shook his head, “Let the little sluts kiss. If they wanna ruin my shoot so badly, be my guests.” His eyes aglow, Valentino exhaled his toxic smoke throughout the studio, sinister grin spreading across his face.
The demons continued as directed, you and Angel not having noticed the interruption you had caused. Angel’s mouth left yours, head resting on the mattress.
“Val’s going to kill us,” you tried to remember the name of the wolf demon pounding into you, knowing you had some sort of lines.
Angel’s teeth nipped your ear lobe, “He’s gonna do that anyway.”
You moaned, “Feels good when you do that.”
“Yeah?” The wolf asked. You wanted to kick him in the neck.
“Uuh, yeah. You… fuck me so good, Daniel.”
“Donny.” He corrected.
Angel got back on his elbows, “Literally no one cares, David.” Whispering now, “Roll over and come ‘ere.”
Douglas didn’t seem bothered, you using your feet to stop him and twisting around his cock to get back on your knees. The demons whose names neither of you cared to learn followed you again. Angel was pressed into you, two arms holding you against his body, one arm on your cheek, a fourth finding its way to your clit.
You gasped, Angel licking up your neck and chin as his hand expertly rubbed you. Regaining some bit of your brain, you reached down a hand to his cock. It was slapping against this stomach in time with the thrusts. Your hand only need to grip him, the other actor basically fucking him into your grasp.
Angel’s head craned down, sucking bruises into your collar bone, “I wanna fuck you so bad, it hurts.” Another whisper into your skin.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” your words faded in and out, volume jumping as your pussy took hit after hit. Angel’s hand electrifying every part of your body.
Angel pulled you as close as he could, bringing your hand from his cock to hold in his. Now him and his pre-cum were rubbing along your stomachs, pressed together tightly. “Wrong. So wro-uh.” Eyes rolling back, Angel’s words fell apart.
“You close?”
He nodded.
“Want me to count you down?”
A more frantic nod.
“Five”
You leaned in to kiss at his neck.
“Four”
A long drag of your tongue up to his ear.
“Three”
A kiss to his cheek.
“Two”
You bit at his lip, pulling it with you before letting it go.
“One”
Angel clenched his eyes, grip on you tightening as he came across your stomach, thick and hot. You heard the other actor moan, Angel’s ass tightening with his release.
You took the chance to kiss Angel again, lips soft and swollen from the long shoot. His cum dripped down your stomach and found its way to his hand, adding more lubrication to your wet pussy. Angel’s fingers eagerly used his seed to slip and slide over your clit.
The feeling pushed you into your orgasm, legs shaking as you tried to stay up. “For fuck’s sake,” Val could be heard shouting just past the studio lights.
Drawing him in for another kiss, less deeply now, lips sometimes on lips, and sometimes the chin and the cheek.
You stayed, holding each other, through the shoot. The other actors finishing their parts, cumming and making some puns about bosom buddies. When everyone else left the scene, and you two broke apart your hungry mouths to consider getting cleaned up and dressed, the air grew thick around you. Heads swimming now, a horny haze fell on set.
“Bravo, bitches. You ruined my shoot, only fair I get to ruin something now.” You both turned to see the lights gleaming off Val’s glasses. “Where should I start?”
༻Masterlist༺
My general tag list is called the Horny Little Deer Cult! To be tagged, you are more than welcome to ask to join
how about something where peter and reader are having sex but reader gets a bad calf cramp midway. peter tries to help by massaging the leg but he's just laughing really hard. overall v funny and crack. love your work btw!
w: smutty smutty, a little name calling.
Your arms are glued to Peter’s while he thrusts into you, you grip him tightly trying to keep him close. The sheen that covered his body made him both sticky and sweaty.
“Fuck!”
The back of your head rubs against his pillow, his hands push higher on the backside of your knees, you’re fully spread open and he continues to push further, you’ve never felt him so deep.
“Baby, you’re… fuck,” you can’t even compliment him, you’re a million percent cockdrunk at the moment.
You could kiss your left knee with how high Peter had it pushed up, he grunts at the new angle and thrusts deeper. You shoot out a cry of pleasure, his words come out between clenched teeth.
“So good, you’re doing so good for me.”
You whimper and whine along with his praises, you’re so lost your words tumble out.
“Thank you, thank you, you know me so well.”
Your boyfriend grunts but a smile takes over, he slows down and puts a hand on your cheek. Your mind races but his touch grounds you a little, you push your hips into his, trying to get back the momentum.
“Are you thanking me for fucking you?”
You try to clasp your hands around his neck and he narrowly misses, you roll your hips into his taking control.
“You were being so nice, now you’re being mean.”
A sarcastic pout takes over his face, he pushes his body down, anchoring himself into place with an arm by your head, the other hand takes your leg to push it over his hip. In one fluid motion he thrusts into you hard, you lose your breath and gasp against the pillow.
“This what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck you hard and deep?”
He keeps going, drilling in and out and your mind spins with pleasure.
“C’mon, baby. Said I was being mean, is this better?”
Your fingernails pierce the skin on his shoulders, your boyfriend's aggressive words made you slicker, you can hear the difference in sounds and know he can feel it on his end.
“Like that? You like when I make you needy? Like you’re a dirty slut who-”
A punch to his chest, panicked words usher from your mouth.
“Out! Get out of me!”
He didn’t mean to take it that far, he thought you liked it, it felt like you liked it. Peter paused, his motions stopped but he didn't move.
Your leg had slipped down on his thigh and you were met with a wicked cramp that you needed to step down on to fix it, the pain and pressure was spreading up your thigh, a true life or death moment. You pushed at his chest to get him to move but he was frozen, you let out a yelp and threw his shoulders away the best you could.
“Get the fuck off of me!”
More aggressive than you meant but, fuck, charley horses were the worst cramps imaginable.
Peter finally snaps into motion and pulls out of you quicker than he normally would’ve, you hiss at the feeling but jump from the bed, he watches you with scared eyes. He shouldn’t have said that, called you a dirty slut, he was just talking in the moment.
The second you’re able to stand you deflate with air, the pulling motion eased. You finally had control of your leg back, it was tender as all hell from being locked up but it was your leg again. Picking it up and pressing your weight back down you felt ready enough to finish what’s been started.
You flop back down to the bed and open back up, “ready.”
Peter doesn’t move, you look down at the foot of the bed. His eyes are focused on yours, he looks scared.
“Are you-”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking and it was a just in the moment thing and I didn’t mean it.”
You squint your eyes and look at his face, “what?”
Peter’s arms fly out to cup your face, you have squished cheeks and are forced to look in his eyes as he hovers over you.
“I don’t think you’re a slut. Like, at all.”
You bat his hands away, “I didn’t think you did but, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Well, now he has no idea why you threw him off.
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
You sit up with him, “calling me a slut?”
A nod, you retraced the steps and let out an “ohhh,” then shake your head and smile at your boyfriend.
“I had a cramp! I feel like you know how much I liked you saying that.”
Peter’s hand was thrown over his chest, telling his heart it can stop going so fast.
“I thought you did, but then I thought I went too far, thank god.”
You scoff and tilt your leg open more.
“Not far enough, now give my leg a rub down and fuck me like a dirty slut.”
His fingers dig into the plush of your calf, already tenderizing the area, “yes, ma’am.”
“Adultère”
Adultère: French for Adultery.
pairing: Andy Barber x WOC!fem!Reader
Warnings: CHRISTMAS, emily trying to be a good fanfic writer and pretending she knows shit about male underwear, cheating, insecurities but y/n is THAT bitch though, swearing, smut: degradation, andy puts the pussy on a pedestal (as he should), unprotected sex: P in V (zon’t do it. zon’t do it….), light daddy kink + subspace, use of the word “cunt” ihkzlkadj, cheesy happy ending
A/N: THIS IS FOR MY MAIN GIRLY JASMEEN ILY JAS THEE STALLION CAUSE ITS HER BDAY AND IT MOTIVATED ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR ONCE!! ❤️💞🥺 @cloudystevie
For Siri’s @stargazingfangirl18‘s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!
Prompt: Character A is having a sad, lonely holiday when Character B unexpectedly shows up to spend it with them
Since i’m a lazy, incompetant person, this is also for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge! Love u Siri, hope you’ll like this
chile not me giving y’all the bare minimum every two months. listen to Lana Del Rey and wake up your sugar baby instincts for maximum experience. Also, i didnt watch defending jacob cause as much as I love chris and shows in general i’m poor and lazy… And i wrote about boston. LAST TIME. my ny ass had a hard time rbhnkjdik // Also, i’m not that good with christmas stuff like.. I really don’t care that much about the christmas spirit and i’m so sorry cause IK you can feel it throughout the whole fic.
Word count: 4.6k+
Keep reading
Tastes of Home and Cake
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!baker!reader
Summary: You own a popular bakery frequented by celebrities, but when the Mid-Wilshire police station hires you for a luncheon, you go out of your way to make cakes, cupcakes, and favourites to make the day special.
Warnings: fluff, Tim bring grumpy toward everyone except his wife who makes him a softie
Word Count: 2.0k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules
“The cast of Rings of Power will be here at 10:00 tomorrow instead of 10:15, is that okay?” your assistant, Kasey, asks.
“Of course,” you respond as you spin a tart pan to remove an air bubble from the filling. “Did you hear back from the Scuderia Ferrari people?”
“Oh, yes. I fit Charles and Lewis in for a lunch and tasting five days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix in November of next year.”
“Perfect!”
You pass the tart to one of your bakery sous chefs before you follow Kasey out of the kitchen. The small dining area of your bakery is full, and the door has been closed and locked to give your clients a private meal.
“Good afternoon,” you greet after removing your apron and straightening your outfit. “It’s a pleasure you have you here, and I hope you enjoy everything.”
After several minutes of speaking to your customers and promising to fit them into your booked schedule when they finish filming in several months, you return to Kasey’s side.
“How do you keep your cool talking to celebrities every day?” she inquires. “I talk to their agents on the phone and get a little starstruck.”
“Well, he’s one of the nicest people on the planet,” you point out, referring to Pedro Pascal sitting behind you. “And, at the end of the day, they’re still people. Well-known and sometimes really mean, but they’re customers, just like the small population of Los Angeles that we serve for a few hours every morning.”
“Speaking of that, I need to get back to the people in the LA Times about the feature they want to do on the bakery. Do you want to do it?”
You stop by a tray of cookies and sigh. “I don’t know. Part of me says yes, but then the side that isn’t caught up in the business wonders if it’s worth it to get longer lines and higher wait times.”
“Did you talk to your super-secret boyfriend about it?”
“I did. He wasn’t much help, basically said to do what I thought was right. Just… tell them not right now. If they take that as a no, that’s fine.”
Kasey nods and jots a note in her always-present journal before she notices the whiteboard where you make plans for tastings and events.
“Is all of that for the LAPD luncheon you’re catering?” she inquires, wide-eyed at the quantity and quality of items. “You know they’re paying a flat rate, right?”
“Kasey, I’m going to tell you a secret,” you reply as you slip your apron over your head. “My ‘super-secret boyfriend’ that you constantly ask about… He’s a cop. And my husband.”
“That explains the Madagascan vanilla shortbread cookies,” she mumbles. “Wait, can I meet him?”
“Me first!” one of your regular celebrities yells from the dining area.
You roll your eyes in amusement and then begin working on the croissants for the sandwiches and the dulce de leche cake for Mid-Wilshire’s annual officer appreciation party.
“This is Officer Thorsen,” Kasey introduces as you exit your car at the police station.
“Aaron,” you greet, welcoming his hug.
“Please tell me the department sprung for my favourite,” he replies.
“I might have thrown in a few goodies.”
“You are the best. I was honestly surprised when I heard they’d chosen your bakery.”
You shake your head at Kasey to remind her not to say anything. To her surprise, they didn’t contract with you because your husband works here, just because of your reputation in Los Angeles. The people working in this station don’t even know you have a relationship with one of their own, so your expanded menu should appear to be a nice surprise, showing your appreciation for the brave men and women who keep you and your city safe.
“This is my watch commander, Wade Grey,” Aaron introduces.
“Nice to meet you,” you offer as you shake his hand.
“You, too. My wife has been wanting to visit your bakery, but we never seem to make it in time,” he replies.
“I’ve got some extras packed away in the van if you’d like to take her something. It’s the least I can do.”
“Baker to the stars… how do you like dealing with so many high profile people every day?”
“Most of them are great, just looking for a place to eat some carbs without the paparazzi. There are a few that I try not to have availability for, of course, but it’s the baking that I really love. My assistant handles most of the people side of things.”
“Well, we can’t thank you, and Kasey, of course, enough for fitting us into your schedule. We’ve been looking forward to it for a while.”
“Of course. I hope you don’t mind but I did throw in some free treats, just my way of saying thank you.”
“That’s incredibly kind of you. Let me know if you need any help setting up or finding anything.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Grey.”
After he returns to his duties, you try to let Aaron return to work, but he insists on helping you set up. Thirty minutes later, the bullpen has been turned into a space of food, appreciation, and more cakes and cupcakes than you remember making.
“I thought you said a few freebies?” Aaron murmurs. “Did you leave anything in the bakery?”
“I hope so. Ryan Reynolds will be a little disappointed if I didn’t,” you respond lightly. “I think I’m done here. Thanks for your help, Aaron.”
“Of course- I’m sorry, Ryan Reynolds?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Someone gasps, and a moment later, Officer Chen runs up to Aaron’s side and smiles as she says your name.
“I watched the Food Network special on your bakery,” she exclaims. “I’ve never been more excited to eat in my life.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” you reply. “Thank you for all you do.”
“You might want to get food now, Lucy. It looks like a lot but it won’t last forever,” Aaron suggests.
“Precisely my plan,” Wade agrees as he exits his office. “It looks great.”
Standing back, you watch officers come in, chat with one another, and get plates of food and treats.
“That’s a lot of cake,” someone says behind you.
“It’s like you’re trying to set up the joke, Tim,” you respond without turning.
His fingers dance across your back before he moves to stand beside you.
“Too much?” you ask.
“No. I for one appreciate it. I’m glad my getting shot at equals roughly that much cake.”
You lean sideways to hit Tim with your shoulder, and he smiles as he rights himself. He moves away from you when he sees several officers walking toward you with cake and cookies on their plates.
“This is by far the most delicious cake I’ve ever had,” one says. “My mother-in-law is throwing me and my husband an anniversary party and if I have this cake, I’ll actually go.”
“She’s booked through spring of 2027,” Tim interjects. “So, unless you want to get on the waiting list for a tenth anniversary cake, it’s not gonna happen. Tell Mrs. Evers you can’t make it.”
“2027?” the woman beside her muses. “Good for you.”
“Thank you,” you answer. “You all have much more important jobs than me, though. Maybe my assistant can fit you in, so you don’t have to miss your own party.”
“See, Timothy? That’s what being nice gets you,” Angela taunts.
“Well, he’s actually the reason I even brought that cake,” you point out.
Angela cocks her head slightly, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth as she looks from Tim back to you. The woman beside her, who you assume is Nyla Harper based on Tim’s detailed stories, watches you with similar interest.
“It’s not even my favourite,” Tim grumbles.
“Don’t start with me, Bradford.”
“You made me taste test a bunch of stuff last weekend and I told you it’s good but not Malibu Rum cake good. There is no Malibu Rum cake.”
“Tim, she brought way more than we expected,” Lucy says as she joins your small circle. “Be nice.”
Tim sees your smile and rolls his eyes. Kasey walks by, on the phone with assumably another agent, and passes you three small boxes.
“For you,” you tell Tim. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it now.”
He sees your writing on the corner above the clear plastic top, Malibu Rum <3, and tugs your belt loop to reach a plastic fork on the table behind you.
“Officer Chen, this is for you,” you say, passing her a box. “And this one is for Aaron, who-“
“I’m here. Don’t give it away,” Aaron says, seeming to appear out of nowhere to take the box of his favourite cake with a new cookie.
“Maybe I should get on your waiting list,” Angela muses as she finishes her slice of cake.
“You can jump the line,” you promise.
“What do I do to get Bradford’s taste testing position?” Nyla inquires. “Because if everything you make is a quarter as good as that Pumpkin Maple Biscotti cupcake was, I’ll do anything.”
“I think that privilege is limited to marriage,” you explain with a frown. “But next time I make an entire test batch, I’ll bring some by.”
Sergeant Grey stops behind the three silent women standing before you. They watch you, ignoring Tim as he enjoys his cake.
“So…” Angela begins before shaking her head.
“You bake for celebrities, and you’re married to Tim Bradford?” Lucy inquires.
“You turned down my proposals for him?” Aaron interjects, his brows furrowed together as he returns with a croissant sandwich (after his cake, you notice and make a mental note to tell his mom to watch his reaction).
“One, you proposed just because you like the way a caramel apple souffle tasted, and two, I was already married to Tim,” you reply. “Which seems to be very surprising for some reason.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I said I wanted to hire her for this?” Wade asks Tim.
Tim shrugs and says, “I didn’t think she’d work you in regardless. Kasey and I told her to charge double.”
“Hypothetically,” Nyla begins, “if I invite you over for dinner and ask for your help, would you cook like this?”
“She wouldn’t help,” Tim answers. You elbow him gently and say, “Of course. It’s the only way I can cook, I think. I prefer baking though.”
“I have so many questions,” Angela murmurs.
“Me too,” Lucy agrees. “Like where’s the farthest place someone has come from to eat at your bakery? Are you allowed to say names?”
“Most of the time I can, after they’ve left, of course. And I think Chris Hemsworth coming from Australia was the farthest.”
“I can’t believe we didn’t know Tim was married,” Nyla points out.
“Yeah, yeah, you can ask questions later,” Tim interrupts.
“We can?” Lucy asks excitedly.
“You can ask, didn’t say I’d answer.”
Tim takes your hand and pulls you away from them, but you wave over your shoulder and thank them once more before you’re in the privacy of a hallway.
“I could fit Angela in,” you tell him.
“Don’t really care,” he admits – honest and blunt as ever – before he kisses you.
“You taste like cake,” you whisper as you pull back.
“What time will you be home tonight?”
“Probably before you. I’ve got an appointment at three and then I’m done. You?”
“Around six. I’ll bring dinner?”
“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Bradford.”
“And you want me to give Angela and Lucy your number,” he guesses, squeezing your waist playfully.
“Smart and handsome! Yes, please, oh and Nyla and Wade. I need to make sure his wife gets to come in, apparently she’s been trying.”
“Isn’t this Kasey’s job?”
“Kasey is mad that I didn’t tell her I was married, and you have to see them all the time. Be nice and help me out and I’ll bring more of the rum cake home.”
Tim kisses you once more before you leave the station to prepare for your next celebrity visit. His subsequent interrogation at the station makes him more eager to get home to you. When he finally walks in with your favourite takeout, welcomed by the smell of brown sugar and butter, Tim knows he’s home.
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.
Reminiscent of Us
Requested Here!
<< Part 1: Save You Again
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!veteran!doctor!wife!reader
Summary: While you deal with the aftermath of treating Tim's previous injuries, you're attacked in the hospital and reliant on Tim to save you... from yourself and the danger you face.
Warnings: depiction of PTSD (nightmares, anxiety, etc.), canon typical warnings, gunshot wound, murder, the usual
Word Count: 1.6k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
When you wake after a nightmare, it’s too dark. Rather than your familiar bedroom around you, your husband’s arm draped across your waist brings you back to the present. You’re safe in your home, not in a desolate war zone or weeping in the hospital because you were too late. Your throat burns, and you move toward the kitchen for a drink.
With your hands wrapped around your favorite mug, you watch the dark window, letting your eyes stray to the pictures lining the shelves in your living room. The anxious feeling you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks isn’t abating. Since Tim was rushed into the ER after being in an explosion a few weeks ago, you’ve been running from the all too familiar feeling of dread that prefaces something horrible.
“Hey,” Tim greets, sitting beside you.
“Sorry I woke you,” you murmur.
Tim shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else.
“Just nightmares,” you say.
“How long?”
You glance at him, and he knows the answer. Since he was brought to you on a gurney. Again.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“It’ll pass,” you insist. “They usually do.”
“You know that’s not how it works.”
You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder. He knows more than anyone else who has ever been in your life. He knows your past, fears, dreams, and how to love you like no one else ever could. Yet, you don’t know how to tell him something is wrong because it isn’t. Not yet. Your body is stuck in a vicious cycle of thinking danger lurks around every corner.
“Do you want to talk to someone?” Tim asks.
You shake your head and reply, “I just want to feel normal again. Not in this constant state of fight or fight because I think something is going to happen.”
“You could always write a speech for Nolan’s veteran event, get your mind off it.”
You chuckle and can’t stop the flirtatious comment that follows. “I can think of another way to get my mind off it.”
Tim rolls his eyes, but you kiss his jaw, and he presses his lips to your forehead. He’s with you. He promised to always be with you, and Tim Bradford keeps his promises. You return to bed with him, let him hold you close, and fall asleep beside him. Since you fell in love with him - while stranded in the desert - you’ve only felt complete at his side. Now is no different.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Doctor Charles asks, smiling as you enter the ICU.
“Your shift partner went into early labor,” you explain. “So, I’m covering until her actual replacement can get into town.”
“Well, we always love having you here. Quite an improvement from the hustle and bustle of the ER, no?”
“I guess the tactical medic in me craves the rush.”
“Here are your patients,” she says, passing a stack of folders over the nurses’ station. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
The first record you open makes your eyes widen. Across the top of the page, someone has written ‘arsenic exposure ~5 months.’ That diagnosis only has a few feasible reasons. The first one that comes into your mind is intentional dosing. Someone might be trying to kill your new patient.
“Dr. Charles!” you call. “Sorry, but this patient - uh, Morrison. Can I get some lab work ordered for him? I want to know more about the arsenic exposure.”
“Absolutely. Get the full battery. His condition isn’t improving.”
“Alright. Thanks, doctor.”
You knock on the open door, then introduce yourself as you enter.
“I want to do some more tests, nothing serious, just want to get a bit more information,” you explain. “Do you want me to go over it with your emergency contact… Helen Parker?”
“No,” she answers quickly. “She’s, uh, my roommate and has better things to deal with, you know. And do whatever you need to, I just want to feel better.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” you assure her.
“We can’t let you into the ICU, ma’am,” a nurse repeats.
“My friend is in there and I haven’t heard a word in days! I need to know she’s okay!” the woman insists.
Pressing the silent alarm under the desk, the nurse alerts the police while she keeps her cool and tries to calm the woman down.
“Bradford,” Tim says when the call connects.
“Same here,” you quip. “I’ve got an ICU patient with over 6 months of arsenic exposure and even during her stay here, the levels are rising.”
“How is that possible?”
“Someone’s dosing her,” you say, looking around the storage room you slipped into. “There’s doctors and nurses in and out all day.”
“She hasn’t been there for six months, though. Visitors?”
“None on the log.”
“I’m putting you on speaker with Lopez, tell her what you just told me.”
You repeat your findings to Detective Angela Lopez. She hums when you finish.
“Attention all units,” dispatch says through Tim’s radio. “Distress call from-“
The audio is clouded with static through the phone, but you hear the name of the hospital you’re standing in.
“Where, Tim?” you ask.
Before he can answer, dispatch does: “ICU entry.”
“I have to go,” you say. “I love you, Tim. Thanks for the help.”
“Don’t do anything,” Tim implores, but the call is disconnected.
You walk to the ICU entrance and look through the window in the door. There’s no one in view, but movement behind you draws your attention.
“What’s going on?” a nurse asks.
Her name tag says Nadine P., and you smile, hoping to disarm her.
“Just thought I heard something, Nadine,” you answer lightly. “Did you see any new reports for Greg Patrick, room 29?”
“No,” she answers. “But your arsenic patient has a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Said her name was Helen. Was waiting outside and there wasn’t anyone at the desk so I thought it was okay.”
“Sure,” you reply. “As long as she signed in.”
“Poor Hellie is devastated, worried about her roommate.”
You nod as you move past her but stop suddenly. The patient file didn’t say Helen was the roommate or provide her nickname. Nadine P. must be for Nadine Parker. They’re related, you realize.
“One more thing,” you say as you turn. “How much arsenic did you give her?”
Nadine keeps up her innocent act, then lunges at you. You catch her shoulders as you yell for someone to check on your patient. Shoving her into the same storage room you hid in the call Tim, you throw your badges out and let the door lock behind you. After you throw a hook, Nadine falls against the rack, and you don’t see her left hand slip beneath her scrub top.
“LAPD!” Tim yells as he races through the hospital. “Move!”
“Go, go, out!” Angela adds, directing people as she moves behind Tim.
“What can I do?” a hospital security guard inquires.
“Tell us how to get into the ICU and then get everyone out of this area,” Nyla answers.
“My badge’ll get you in,” the guard says, offering his badge.
Tim takes it and rushes around the corner to reach you. He knows you can handle yourself, but not knowing what is happening puts him at a disadvantage. Stopping outside the ICU door, he signals to Angela and Nyla before he swipes the badge.
They go in first, their weapons raised as they enter the unit. A doctor comes around the corner and raises his hands in surprise, his clipboard clattering to the ground. He points to his left, and Tim takes the lead as he looks around the corner.
A woman is slumped against the wall, but her pulse is steady when Tim checks in. The patient room beside her is locked, and the nurse inside sends Tim a thumbs-up as she works.
Tim turns as Angela asks the doctor if there’s another intruder, but she’s interrupted by a gunshot. Along with the doctor, Tim, Angela, and Nyla duck at the sound and then look at one another. Angela points to the supply closet across the hall, and Tim notices two badges discarded on the tile floor. He slides onto his knee and catches himself against the wall to pick them up. One is yours, and the other belongs to a registered nurse named Nadine.
Tim raises his gun toward the door, and another shot sounds from within. He looks at Angela, and she moves her hand horizontally. She silently communicates to stay calm before she and Nyla move to the other side of the door. Raising three fingers, she counts down.
On one, Tim scans your badge to open the door, then extends his arms and follows his gun inside.
“Decent response time,” you say, your voice slow but even.
Tim steps around a shelf and then drops to his knees. Your hands are pressed to your side, but he can see the blood leaking through your fingers.
“Lopez, one suspect down here,” he calls.
Nyla kneels beside Nadine and checks her pulse, then places handcuffs on her wrists and calls for someone to transport her to the ER.
“Get a doctor in here!” Tim demands, laying his hands over yours.
“Tim,” you say. “It’s clean, just a flesh wound.”
Tim sighs as he reaches over his head to pull a pack of gauze and several bandages off the shelf. He tears the bandage open with his teeth and presses it against your side.
“Well,” he begins. “Since you did my job today, I guess that means I have to do yours in return.”
“Does that mean you’ll be making dinner, too?”
“Not a chance. We’re ordering food on the way home.”
“Thank you,” you say, drawing Tim’s eyes to yours. "I think my nightmare's will go away now."
“They better. And any time,” he promises. “But I’m getting sick of this hospital.”
-
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