Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist

A vox machina oneshot

Vax x reader.

The reader has a card that allows them to swap places with the intended target depending on the intention behind it. They use it on vax and take his place as the raven queens champion just as she is about to take him away. They tell vax to go be with keyleth and live a full and happy life with her Unknown to the reader vax was in love with them the whole time. The last thing they say to him is a heart felt confession on their love for him before they dissapear. I know it's an angst one but if you want to make a fluffy ending it's up to you

Enjoy! 😘

They tried. Everyone tried. Every loophole, every possible way to weasel out of this deal with the goddess of death was exploited. All of them failed. They tried and they failed. At least they tried. The only regret Vax has is they wasted plenty of time on this unsolvable problem. He knew his time was running out. Even before he realised it. He knew that time would come where she’d pull his tether and he’d have to leave everyone being. She sent him out with a purpose and that’s now completed. Not even the greatest wish could change that. Especially not now. The deal is done. Vax accepts this. It took him a while but he does. It doesn’t make it any easier though. She gave him time to say goodbye. She didn’t have to. There is yet some mercy left in the cold dead heart of the Raven Queen, some compassion still beyond that broken mask. He got to say goodbye to you. 

This can’t be the end. This is not the way. You refuse to accept this fate. For all the love in your heart, for the bleeding hearts of your friends. They need him. You need him. He cannot just slip into oblivion to serve the goddess of death for eternity because of some cruel mistake. It’s neither just nor fair. This fate is a cruel one. Fate is cruel. You know it all too well. Life deals you a hand of cards when you are born. Some are born lucky. Others are lucky to be born. Some are destined for greatness. Others are doomed from the start. For entities that pretend to be benevolent and kind, they are not far off from the tyrant claiming themself king, or the evil mage enslaving the many. It all comes down to that hand of cards. You got lucky. For all the bullshit in your life you got your hand on one of those cards and you just happen to be good at that ethereal game of sleight of hand. It’s not cheating if there’s no rules. You drew from the deck of fate and you got lucky. That luck came with a curse though because you’d always know what the gravity of that decision would mean. 

You got your hands on a card that could change fate; your fate to be specific. You may have thought about it many times but by using that twist of fate you condemn another to yours. Could you live with yourself knowing that you took something from another for your own gain? Equally, would you sacrifice yourself for anyone down on their luck and willing to take their suffering instead? You know damn well why you didn’t use this cruel trinket. But now, it resurfaces again, it burns in your palm as you walk by Vex trying to hold herself together as she pats her brother on the shoulder with some witty remark. You nearly break when he pulls her into a hug and you see her tears spill. She wipes them away before he pulls back. Vax noticed either way. You notice all of them heartbroken. You’re heartbroken too. You don’t want him to go. He holds part of your heart after all. You’ve never told him so blatantly but it’s true no less. 

You see Keyleth falling apart at the seams. Vax tries to console her but he can’t. She holds his heart. He holds hers and he’ll be taking it with him whether he intends to or not. It hurts him to know he’ll leave his friends, his family, his love so hurt with his departure. You see the effect Vax has had on their lives, all of them, on yours. You know how much he means to them and that card of fate starts to become more and more appealing. You have a chance to save someone you love. You can make a change in order for him to change the world. You can give him a chance of life by throwing away your own to the service of some god and you’d do it without a second thought. You will. You’ve already made up your mind. The only reason why you haven’t yet is because you struggle to find the right words to tell him. You don’t think you can face him with this. What would he think of you to know you could have changed a fate so easily and never did. Are you truly so selfish? Were you truly not ready to until it came down to your own pain? You can’t keep avoiding this anymore and so you slip away.

Vax notices you retreating ever so slowly. How could he not? He might be light on his feet and it takes one to know one but he’d always notice your presence or lack thereof. The air changes and so does that strange coiling feeling within him whenever you’re near. It’s quite pleasant. He’s known it for a while now but with his impending doom, he could not bring himself to give into it, to give into you knowing he’d only break you. He made that choice for you he supposes but equally so for himself. He can’t look you in the eye while he’s torn away from you. He can’t face your tears. The others, it’s already hell on Exandria facing them but were he to face you, he’d be falling apart. You’ve been strong so long. He wishes he could be as strong as you. He doesn’t have the heart for it but he too has begun to see the cracks in your armour. Something’s amiss and when he sees you slowly retreat to the back of the room, away from the conversation, away from the people until you slip outside entirely, he feels that tether pull taut and he cannot but follow. 

Vax finds you out front. There’s something in your palm, a card he realises. Just the one. It’s got a golden sheen to it and you reach out to touch it. He sees your shoulders shaking and tense. You bite your lip. That’s when you let out a muffled sob. You’re not aware he’s there. You squeeze your eyes shut and tears spill. He takes a step closer to you. 

“If you had the power to change this fate, would you?” So you had noticed his approach. He couldn’t care less. You’re hurt. Not physically but you’re hurt either way and it breaks his heart. It’s yours after all, even if you don’t know it. You quickly put that golden card back in your pocket. You wipe away your tears and let out a shaky breath. 

“What do you mean?” He questions but the look you give him implies no humour and comes with a sense of urgency. “I don’t want to go. I’d much rather stay here with you, with them but I can’t. It was a worthy sacrifice and I’d make the choice a thousand times over.

“If-uh-“ You try to find the right words but can’t even look him in the eye. “If another could take that place and you could stay, would you stay?” He thinks for a second and then grows suspicious. 

“At what cost?” You shake your head.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. You shouldn’t be spending this valuable time out here with me talking about this stupid-“ 

“Hey, hey- time spent with you is never wasted. I want you here with me, for as long as I have, for as long as you’ll have me.” You feel his palm agains your cheek, raising your gaze to meet his. You see that pained but kind smile. It only solidifies your choice. You know what to do. 

“Okay.” You squeak not able to keep your voice stable and Vax just simply pulls you into his embrace. That’s the last conversation you’d have with him until that fated moment, until the true goodbye. 

The goddess had come to lay claim to her champion, to the life she’s to call hers and the servitude she’s owed. The goodbye is a harrowed one but it’s not his goodbye. You look at Keyleth holding onto Percy who does his best to console her, Vex attempting to stay strong and stoic despite the tears running down her face and noticeable the death grip she has on Pike’s hand. Scanlan’s even struggling and so is Grog. The Raven Queen holds out her hand and beckons. Vax says goodbye to you last. He holds onto your hand, brings it to his chest. There’s no words he speaks but his eyes say it all. You take a step towards him and turn so you’re interposing between himself and the goddess. The others go alert, contemplating the prospects of killing the goddess and freeing the resident rogue form this cruel pact if you make the first move. Vax holds onto your hand still as if to keep you from doing something stupid or reckless against a literal god. Little does he know. 

“I invoke the blessing I have been given. I invoke the fate that was never mine and will share the burden of it. I trade my place for his as it is the right of the hand that was dealt to me. Fate wills it so, and so it shall be.” You remember the words well. Though you have never spoken them out loud. They are like a practiced speech. You’ve played them over in your mind; the script upon that  fated golden card and when it appears in your palm it glows that bright golden like the tethers of fate and memory the Raven Queen holds so dear. It certainly peaks her interest. 

“What are you doing?” Vax asks looking between you and the goddess. You glance back over your shoulder. 

“What I should have done the very moment this curse befell you. I’m sorry I could not do it before. I hope you can forgive me. You’ll be free.” 

“You can’t do this!” Desperation and despair are the ways of the mortal worlds, of those consumed by time and whims of circumstance. They are the ways of you and him and everyone around you. 

“It’s okay, Vax. It’s okay. I’ve made my choice. They need you more than they need me. I wish you a happy life. Even if I can’t be part of it.” 

“I need you.” He sounds so small, so broken and that alone makes you almost regret. Almost. But you wouldn’t reverse it. Even if you could. 

“Your heart belongs here. With Them. With your sister. With Keyleth. My heart belongs with you but you do not need it, not like they need you. It’s a worthy sacrifice.” You take a step closer towards the goddess but Vax does not let go of your hand. He holds on. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I love them. I love my sister, my friends, Keyleth. I love them. But I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I can’t let you do this.” Your heart stops right there in your chest. Your world comes apart. To have those words be spoken… You don’t even know what to do with them. You can’t breathe or speak or think for some moments. He loves you. He’s in love with you. Vax is in love with you and you’re about to leave him behind. You’ve made the right choice either way but it’s become a far more painful one now and you come to realise that’s exactly what he tried to protect you from by not mentioning before. You hate and love him for it. 

“It’s already done.” That stupid card dematerialises in a golden dust. and invisible breeze lets the dust weave into a tether to wrap around your free arm. You feel it burn and pull painfully so. You pull against the strain, toe to toe with Vax and softly place your lips against his. A final parting gift, for whom you’re unsure. “My fate is sealed. May you live a good life, Vax’ildan. May it be a long and merry one filled with love.” And that’s when you step away, in that brief moment where he lowers his guard and is forced to let you go. The golden tether pulls you in and away from him. The Raven Queen beckons you and you follow with one last glance over your shoulder, one last look at him. 

“I love you.” The final words he’ll ever hear from your lips. He’s too late to respond. You’re gone. The goddess of death is gone. His heart is gone and he’s left on Exandria broken and surrounded by his loved ones. He feels empty despite it. He doesn’t know what to do or say or think. It’s a whirlwind. 

Stay in the Car

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader

Summary: Tim disappears from the station, and you and Aaron have to find him. After a heroic leap of faith, you save him in more ways than one.

Warnings: this is inspired by a scene in 6x10 but there's no story spoilers, angst, implied abduction and drug trafficking, injuries, fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

It’s been a slow day in the Mid-Wilshire station. You and your husband Tim were called back to assist with a case, but so far, all you’ve done is sort through paperwork.

“I thought we had rookies for this kind of thing,” you whisper conspiratorially.

“They’re busy babysitting crime scenes,” Tim replies.

You nod as you slide the last form into its proper place. Tim pushes his empty box away and sighs. Now there’s truly nothing to do.

“So, this is where the party is,” Aaron teases as he and Nolan return.

“Yeah,” you agree sarcastically. “It’s a rager, as you can see.”

The detective you’ve been assisting gathers his papers and thanks you quickly. Alone and bored again, you ask Aaron how the streets are today.

“Quiet. Not so much as a speeding ticket so far,” he tells you as he collapses into the seat beside you.

“The Q-word,” Nolan reminds him. “Make sure Harper isn’t around before you use it.”

Tim shakes his head and digs his phone out of his pocket. You tap your foot against his leg under the table, but as his brows draw together, he doesn’t look up at you.

“You alright?” you ask him.

“I have to go.” Tim stands as he speaks, and only spares a glance in your direction.

“Where?”

Tim jogs toward the door as he answers, and you can’t make out part of what he says. It sounds like laundry then, "I love you."

“What’s that about?” Nolan asks.

“No idea. Someone must’ve called for backup,” you guess.

“Probably someone at Hollywood. They’re getting calls.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Aaron nods at you as you stand. When you walk out of the station you see Tim’s truck and his shop still parked in their usual spots. You walk past both vehicles, but there’s no sign of him.

“You lookin’ for the cop that just walked out?” a man on the sidewalk asks.

“Yes, I am. Did you see where he went?” you reply.

“Guy led him to a truck. Figured they were friends or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen as your heart rate increases. Tim wouldn’t have just left while on duty without telling you. To provide backup, sure, but not to get in a truck with a civilian.

“Did you see the truck? Where it went?” you question.

“Nah, miss. Sorry.”

You run back inside and straight to Aaron. Nolan is no longer waiting with him, but Aaron has nothing but time, and you need to find your husband.

“Did you drive to work today?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “Why?”

“We need to go. Tim just left and might need backup. He’s not on a call, though.”

“Just take a shop.”

“No, Aaron. I don’t know where he is or who he’s with, and I don’t need to spook anyone into killing him!” you exclaim.

Aaron makes no move to hand over his keys, but you need a personally owned vehicle to stay incognito. Tim has his truck keys, so you need to convince Aaron to help you; if not for you, for Tim.

“Aaron, keys!” you demand.

“We don’t even know where they’re going,” Aaron argues.

“And we won’t find Tim if we don’t do something.” You take a deep breath and run your thumb over your wedding band. “I can’t lose him, Aaron.”

“I know,” he assures. “But I’m going with you. Tim needs all of us. Whatever that text was must've been important.”

Aaron waves as he steps past you, and you follow him to the parking area. When he removes a leather key fob from his pocket and you see a Lamborghini sitting in his spot, you momentarily forget about Tim and his sudden disappearance.

“Aaron, we can’t…” you begin.

“Forget about the car. Let’s go!”

You climb into the passenger seat as Aaron starts the car with an obnoxious rev of the engine.

“Habit,” he murmurs as he pulls the gear shift into reverse. “Where are we going?”

“It’s been at least fifteen minutes since he walked out. They could be miles in any direction by now,” you reply.

“But they wouldn’t have gone anywhere, right?” Aaron asks as he looks both ways to turn. “It may have been last-minute, but they had a plan.”

“What did he say when he left?”

“That he loved you.”

“No, before that.”

“Oh, uhm.” Aaron pauses to think as he passes a truck going under the speed limit. “Something about a laundromat, I think.”

“Did he say laundromat, laundering, or laundry?”

“What’s the difference? Besides washing clothes and the illegal money trade, I mean.”

“Landry,” you realize aloud. “He said Landry as in Pierre Landry!”

“Okay,” Aaron replies. “Who is that?”

“Head toward the Hills.”

“Finally,” Aaron mumbles.

“One more favour?” you request.

“Anything, you know that.”

“Drive this car like you want to. Grey alerted dispatch that we took a POV.”

“Now that’s a favour I’d love to do.”

You sit back in the passenger seat as Aaron shifts into another gear. He swerves in and out of traffic as you think of your husband. Tim has to be safe, because you’ll lose yourself if he’s not.

“What exactly is the plan?” Aaron asks.

You snap yourself out of your racing thoughts of Tim to say, “I’ll know when I see it.”

Aaron nods to himself, but you can tell he’s not convinced. Your plan certainly isn’t detailed, probably not even smart, yet you have to trust that it’ll work. It has to work.

“Slow down,” you tell Aaron. “See the brown truck in the right lane, thirty yards ahead?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron answers. “Oh.”

The back window is broken out and the driver is swerving within the boundaries of his lane, but you can’t see why. When the truck drifts toward the car in the next lane, they hit their brakes and lay on the horn. Aaron swings into the lane behind the truck and ignores the people who honk at him.

With the new vantage point, you see a gun in the bed of the truck. As you lean toward Aaron’s dash to get a better look, you see two people moving in the cab. The driver raises a knife, and then they duck down toward the seat again as he swerves toward the barrier between the lanes. The truck moves over a lane, and the surrounding traffic has given him plenty of room to wreck without harming anyone. The new bumper surrounding the erratic (and armed) truck driver provides the perfect opportunity.

“Get beside him,” you tell Aaron. “But not too close. Stay away from his door.”

He nods and speeds up to drive into the lane beside the truck. You toll your window down and unclip your seatbelt as Aaron’s car lines up with the truck bed.

“What are you doing?” Aaron yells over the wind.

You pull yourself through the narrow window to sit atop the door. “Saving my husband!” you answer loudly. “Keep it steady and fall back the minute I jump.”

“But you-“

“Thorsen!” you interrupt. “Fall back the minute I jump. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise your hands to the hood of his car and carefully pull your knees up. When your right foot reaches the door, you push yourself to stand and use your hands to stay steady. You count down in your head 3, 2, 1, and then you jump. Aaron hits the brakes and the distance between you and him increases quickly.

When you hit the truck bed, you roll before you catch yourself. With a calculated movement, you wait until it swerves again to push yourself up and toward the broken back window. Pushed against the body at the back of the cab, you reach your arms inside and grab the driver’s arm. It isn’t until you push yourself in further that you actually see Tim. Tim’s eyes meet yours, and he exhales sharply as you pull the driver back against his seat.

“Move,” you tell Tim.

He pulls himself up from the floorboard and into the passenger seat. The driver finds his knife again and begins slinging it aimlessly over his shoulder, aiming for you. Tim doesn’t hesitate to move across the cab of the truck and pull the driver’s hands away from you.

“Tim!” you warn as the truck begins drifting toward the curb.

You keep your arms locked around the driver’s shoulders but watch Tim. He takes a deep breath and leans back. As he shoves his feet against the man’s side, he grimaces in pain but doesn’t stop. The momentum knocks the driver against the door beside him and his foot slides off the gas pedal. You move your left arm to his neck and hold him tightly as you reach for the steering wheel with your right.

Tim slips forward again to avoid a punch from the driver and extends his arm toward the brake pedal. He groans as he pushes it to the floor, and you use all of your strength to pull the driver back and away from Tim. The truck lurches to a quick stop and you turn so that your side makes impact with the broken window frame rather than your face or chest.

Sirens sound behind you and grow louder quickly now that you aren’t moving. The driver reaches for something under his seat, but you grab the gun that slid forward in the truck bed and aim it at his temple.

“Drop it,” you command. “Now.”

Tim groans again as he sits up, but he keeps his eyes on the man you’re holding. You loosen your grip and open the driver’s side door so the approaching officers can get him out and into custody. He takes the opportunity to roll out, but Aaron pulls up beside him before he can push himself up and run.

“That was amazing!” Aaron applauds as he exits his car.

Tim hisses in pain, and you turn toward him quickly.

“That was dumb,” he argues.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

Tim cradles his arm but nods. You hop over the side of the bed and open the passenger door. Tim leans toward you as you lay your hand on his shoulder.

“Where’s Landry?” Nyla asks as she and Angela run toward the truck.

“Whoa,” Angela interjects. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Driver didn’t say much, but he radioed that he would meet someone at John Anson,” Tim answers.

“Get an ambulance,” Angela tells a passing officer.

“John Anson Ford? The theater?” Nyla clarifies.

You tune out their conversation as you squat beside the truck. Tim’s boots are scuffed from breaking the window, but other than the scrapes you can see and his arm, he seems relatively fine. You release a relieved, albeit shaky, breath as you stand.

“It’s not high season for the theater,” you add. “Landry could be using it as a distribution base for his new product.”

“He’ll get suspicious when reckless back there doesn’t show,” Tim says.

“We’ll send someone in,” Nyla assures him. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“Don’t,” Angela warns when Tim opens his mouth. “Argue with your wife about it.”

She winks at you as she and Nyla walk toward the other officers waiting behind you. The ambulance navigates through the crowd of police cars and officers, and you look into Tim’s eyes.

“You scared me,” you murmur, taking his hand.

“You jumped from a moving car onto another moving car, but you want to play that card?” Tim challenges.

“Are you really okay?” you ask.

“I promise. There is one thing I’d like you to do- two, maybe.”

You nod quickly, and Tim looks over your shoulder at the approaching EMTs.

“Go finish this case, and make sure it’s over.”

“Tim, I-“

“I need to know. And you do too.”

“Okay,” you agree. “What’s the second thing?”

Tim tips his chin up, and you smile before you kiss him gently. He moves his good arm toward your waist, but you step back.

“You’re sure?” you check.

Tim nods, and you demand that he keep you updated as you step back.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you,” he replies. “Get Landry.”

You salute Tim and smile when he rolls his eyes. Tim will give the paramedics a hard time, but he’s safe, and that’s all that matters.

“Grey,” you call as you enter the bullpen.

“Thank goodness,” he sighs. “Everything wrapped up?”

“Detectives are closing the case as we speak, and Landry is already booked and processed. We also grabbed two distributors who already had product on them.”

“Then get out of here.” Wade smiles as he adds, “And take your husband with you.”

You furrow your brows. Tim should be at the hospital still; it’s only been a few hours since you left him with the EMTs. Wade points toward the roll call room, and you see your husband sitting against a table with his arm in a sling.

Without another word, you walk away from Sergeant Grey and toward Tim. He looks up when you open the door, and his shoulders drop when he sees you.

“We got Landry,” you say before he asks.

“I’m fine,” Tim tells you, sensing that you have a question too.

“Good. Ready to go home?”

“As long as you’ll stay in the car this time,” Tim jokes.

He stands, and you hug under his uninjured arm. You feel him relax before his wraps his arm around you and ducks his head toward your shoulder.

“You mean more to me than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper. “But don’t ever make me do that again. You walked out and then you were gone.”

“Hey.” Tim waits until you look at him to finish, “Never again.”

You kiss him quickly and then step back and take his hand. “I promise to stay in the car all the way home if we can get food on the way.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but the way he keeps you close as you walk to his truck – which you have to drive now – makes you think he really was just as worried about you as you were for him.

Tim Through the Years - The Proposal

Series Masterlist (part 10)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect way to propose. 0.9k+ words

Tim has been trying to wrack his brain on how to propose. He found the ring because of Angela and now he doesn’t know how to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Because of the incident when he got the ring, everyone has an opinion on how he should propose, and it’s giving him quite the headache. Lucy has been talking non-stop since she found out and expressed all of the ideas she had. So here he is, hiding in the interrogation room, trying to think of the perfect way to ask. Tim’s phone starts to ring and he answers without looking to see who is calling.

“What?” Tim asks gruffly.

“Hey baby, is this a bad time?” 

Tim freezes; it was you calling him and not Lucy as he thought. “No, not at all, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve been having issues at school of someone stealing other people’s lunches. Today they stole my whole lunch instead of a couple of things. Everything is just gone; would it be possible to bring me some lunch? I really don’t want to eat cafeteria food.” 

“Of course baby, I’ll grab some food from your favorite place”, Tim replies softly. He can tell you’ve been having a rough day just by the sound of your voice.

“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I love you! See you soon.” 

“I love you too.”

When your phone call ends, he sees he has a few texts he missed from you earlier. They were pictures of different drawings your students did and they all centered around you and him together. Tim knows that you love your students and they mean the world to you. You always boast about how much your students grow and how proud you are of them. That’s when Tim has the best idea ever.

You slump in your seat after your phone call with Tim. The kids were in the gym before they were going to head to lunch. There has been a lunch thief in the break room and even if you leave your lunch in your classroom, some of it gets stolen. You’ve never had your whole lunch stolen - matter of fact, no one has, so it looks like the thief has stepped up their game. You have your suspicions of who stole your lunch: your coworker Dennis has been causing all sorts of problems. He cheated on his wife with a student's mom, and now he blames his ex-wife for why his kids don’t want to see him. A rumor you were told was that he was a massive alcoholic who took out all his stress on his family, and he had a gambling problem. You want to make a super spicy meal for him to eat so he will stop eating your lunches since Tim puts a ton of effort into making sure you eat a balanced meal every day.

You check the time and see that it is time to pick up your class before lunch so they can grab anything they need. When you walk into your classroom with your students, you see Tim sitting at your desk with your lunch. The class all squeals and runs up to Tim, asking him all sorts of questions. Your class loves it when Tim visits and thinks he’s a superhero. 

“Hey guys, I’m just here to have lunch with your favorite teacher.” Tim has a smile on his face while he talks to your students.

That’s when your class turns to you and declares they want to use their marbles to have lunch with the both of you. You use marbles as a reward system to encourage good behavior, and they can choose what they want within reason.

“How about instead of me taking your marbles, I’ll give you a free pass because you have been so well-behaved today.”

The class cheers and goes to get their lunch stuff, so you send a classroom aide to go with some students who need a hot lunch. Tim hands you your stuff and when the aide returns with your students, you tell her you are going to run to the bathroom and be right back. When you return to your classroom, all your students are suspiciously quiet. Lunch goes smoothly, with you and Tim talking about your guys' day and the students talking amongst their friends and asking questions here and there. Once lunch ends, the students say goodbye to Tim and you kiss Tim on the cheek before telling him you’ll see him at dinner tonight.

It is getting close to the end of the day when the fire alarm goes off, which is weird because there was no drill planned for today. You calmly walk your students outside and do a head count of your students. After a few minutes, police and fire arrive, and all the kids talk about how cool they thought the trucks were. That’s when you heard your name called from one of the police vehicles' microphones.

“Y/N Winchester.”

Everyone grows quiet, and all turn to stare at you. Your students run toward the vehicle, and you run behind them to try and stop them. You freeze because your students are standing behind Tim, who is on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” all your students shout together with massive smiles on their faces.

“Yes!”

Besties Get Banged (part2)

⟢Angel Dust x PornstarReader - Besties get Banged smut💦

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱

Val leaves set and Angel offers the sofa of his dressing room to continue what you started.

「warnings/promises: Angel x FemaleReader , vaginal creampie, quick fuck, kisses, cuddles」

same story as male reader; just different bits and bobbles

minors dni 🧯

Angel’s hand slipped into yours as soon as Val was called off set. You two had been corrected for your behavior by the overlord, but luckily his square headed prince needed him.

“Ya know, I have a private dressin’ room.” Angel’s fingers tugged your hand, “With a sofa.”

The benefit of so many arms was how easily he could close the door, lock it, and pull open both of your robes all while you struggled to shake off your slippers.

His mouth left yours as he gently pushed you back toward the purple chaise lounge near the balcony door, “You whole?” 

A common question amongst Val’s employees, especially those who found comfort in each other after his abusive power trips. Not are you hurt, that implies just physical harm. Not are you okay, you can be okay and not be okay. You understood very well what he was asking, are you mentally and physically comfortable to continue?

You nodded, “Yeah, you?”

“He doesn’t get to me as badly anymore,” two hands on your face, two on your hips. Ah, you wish you could touch him more, with as many hands as he had soft places to caress. Angel lowered you, lithe body coming to rest on yours as his hips began moving against your naked core. Soft cock slowly growing against your skin, lube and slick being rubbed into your folds by his ministrations.

As soon as he was hard enough to enter you, he did. The sigh he made, the weakness that came over his face as he sunk into your tight but welcoming cunt made you shudder. A streak of electricity traveling from your spine down and forward to your clit.

Angel wasted no time in finishing the fucking he had been dreaming of just an hour earlier. His arms came down, fingers exploring your valleys and your peaks. Hungry for your affection, for the tenderness he so desperately needed, his mouth crashed into your cheek. Sloppy, happily unprofessional, he kissed and licked his way to your mouth, already open and waiting to receive him. 

He tasted like candy on your tongue, sweet and melting. Every gasp and moan he gave you he then greedily swallowed. 

“Shit, close,” he whined, “Already”. He found your hands with his, pulling them and you up as he leaned back. Two hands cupped your ass and lifted you onto his now seated lap. Your legs came around his waist, your measly two arms wrapped around his neck as you held tightly. Small but strong, he pistoned himself up into your heat while those hands did the work of you riding his swelling cock. 

He pulled you in for another kiss, lips pressing into yours with no rhythm or goal as he tried to bring you over the climax together. While he spent most of his time with dicks, literally and figuratively, he understood the focused wind up a female orgasm could need.

Your hand came between your bodies, trying to meet him at the edge. Eyes shut, you focused on the place where he was in you, the heat and the stiffness of his arousal for you. As he whispered, “so close” and whined, “baby” into your ear with gasped breaths, you thought about your pussy wringing Angel Dust dry and quickly reached your orgasm. 

“Me too,” was all you could manage as your teeth clenched and head came down onto his shoulder.

Angel continued to move you on and off his dick as he rode out his climax. Your walls contracting around him, milking him like your body had been designed to do it. A feeling he wasn’t wholly used to, definitely not for free and off camera, he pulled you down and held you there to linger in the sensation.

“Too deep,” you wiggled, slightly painful pressure as his still engorged head was now threatening to slip past your cervix. 

“Sorry” he smiled, “not used to, ya know, some of this stuff.”

Valid. There was a lot more stuff than he was used to thinking about. Especially at work.

He eased up his grip, letting you lift enough to relax. 

Slippery and hot, you stayed stuck together for an unknown amount of time. His mouth kept finding its way back to you, lazy but content kisses peppered across pink cheeks and flush lips. 

Rarely he could be held so gently while sober, so he took his time in enjoying your tenderness. Four arms wrapped around you and pulled your head into that fluff on his chest, “Val’s not gonna let us work together again.” He said it matter of factly.

You sucked in through your teeth, “Yeeeeeah… I’ll probably get canned.”

Angel pursed his lips, “Well, I know a solution to both problems.” He pulled back, beaming down at you, “A place with free rent where yous can easily see me anytime we want. How do ya feel about group activities?”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings

@looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @sailorsmouth ,

@jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : five

A/N: I cannot help it, I love the teeth. I love this gif.

You woke to the dark, in an unfamiliar bed, soft silk rustling beneath you as you shifted, struggling to open your eyes. When you finally managed, you realised you were not in your own room, but in Walt’s. He was sprawled on his back next to you, breathing evenly, his chest moving quietly. Memory of the earlier evening came rushing back and you touched the sore patch of skin on your neck, hissing softly as you felt two perfect tiny holes, almost healed over already.

Keep reading

Falling Slowly

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.

Warnings: so much fluff, brief angst, domestic violence (Tim and reader respond to a call & allusions to past dv against reader), one scene is inspired by "The Switch" (1x4)

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

A/N: This doesn't really fit in any specific season, so I put characters in the roles I wanted them to have and just made up some names to fill in the gaps. Hopefully everything makes sense. Please let me know what you think!

Picture from Pinterest

“What are you doing here?” Angela asks, surprised to see Tim.

Furrowing his brows, Tim answers, “I’m here for the TO meeting.”

Angela tilts her head back and groans, passing Nyla a 10-dollar bill.

“She thought you’d give up your position for Metro,” Nyla explains.

“I’d like to, someday, but not today,” Tim replies.

“20 bucks this is his last one,” Angela says to Nyla. “He still has the open invite to Metro and his patience can’t take many more boots.”

Nyla reaches to shake Angela’s hand as Tim rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Let me see his rookie first, then we’ll talk,” Nyla decides. “I’ve got a feeling a lot is going to change around here.”

“Like what?” Angela asks. “Nyla! Like what?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station on your first day as a rookie is both nerve-wracking and exciting. You’ve heard stories about boots making it through the academy to fail once they reach this level, but you’re determined. When you were a kid, you were in bad situations more often than any child should be, but kind police officers changed your life, and you’d like to do the same.

Waving to one of your police academy friends, you sit in the bullpen, waiting impatiently to learn which officer behind you will be your training officer. Getting the perfect training officer is up to fate, based on what you’ve heard, and your TO can make or break your career.

“Good morning, boots! I am Watch Commander Wade Grey. You have made it through the police academy, but don’t expect a pat on the back, your work is just beginning. This is the time to prove yourself, to show your TO, me, and this city why you deserve to be a police officer.” He pauses, moving around the podium to add, “If you should be a police officer.”

As you listen intently, striving to remember every word Sergeant Grey says, two detectives stand at the back of the room and evaluate the rookies.

“He’s only got one shot,” Angela mutters.

“If he gets the pretty one in the front, I’m not taking the bet,” Nyla says.

Angela looks up a row, her brows raising when she sees you. “If he ends up with her, we’re starting a station-wide pool and getting rich,” she adds.

“Now, it’s time to be assigned to your judge, jury, and executioner,” Wade says with a smile. “Or, as we call them, TOs. Our former rookie turned TO, Nolan: you’ve got Edward Henderson.

 Officer Nolan nods at Henderson, and you remember his story: a late-life rookie who got a golden ticket. Part of you wants to work with him and learn why he decided on law enforcement, but you only nod at Henderson before turning back around.

“Lance Vincent, you are with our newest TO, Eliza Reagan.”

Wade says your name with a smile that seems a bit more genuine than before. “Officer Bradford, last but not least,” he says as he assigns you your new TO.

You look over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as he nods at you. He is undeniably attractive, and you hope it doesn’t cause any problems.

“Oh, he’s a goner,” Nyla whispers under her breath when you smile at Tim.

“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.

“I think we’ll have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Something about you bothers Tim. Not in the usual, grumpy-with-a-new-boot way, but he has a sense that you’re different. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, walking to Tim at the back of the bullpen.

He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.

“I’m not going to pretend this is going to be easy or fun,” he tells you. “Being a rookie is the hardest part of your career, but if you’re a good cop under the uniform, you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, you promise to do your best and express your willingness to learn everything you can from him.

“Good,” he says. “Meet me outside the war room. We’re not wasting any time, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

Tim watches you walk away, and when you stop to let someone carrying a large box cross in front of you, Tim realizes that you’re hurting, or were hurting not long ago. The underlying need to help people is something he recognizes.

“She’s pretty,” Angela muses, walking to Tim’s side.

“Though you know that,” Nyla adds, smiling on his other side.

“She’s a boot. No different than the other rookies,” Tim argues, though his gaze is still on your back as you sign for your bags and weapons.

“Sure, she is. Why don’t you go put her through a Tim test?” Angela suggests.

Tim rolls his eyes as he leaves, wondering what hurt you bad enough to make you want to be a cop. He became a cop despite his hurt, but you’re young and bright – and too good for him – so there must be something in you that makes you worthy of this. More worthy (and more beautiful) than any rookie before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Several officers wish you luck, with one or two warning you about so-called “Tim Tests” while you wait for Tim behind the shop.

“Don’t tell me you have a checklist,” Tim begins, drawing your attention away from the shop tires.

“No, sir,” you answer. “Just being vigilant, I suppose. I’d hate to start my first day with a flat tire.”

Tim nods, asking where the war bags are. You tell him how you checked the contents and loaded them into the trunk, and he appreciates your brief explanation.

“Good work. The easy part is over,” Tim says. He seems to weigh his options before deciding, “You drive. Show me what you’ve got.”

He follows you to the driver’s side door, opening it as he reminds you of standard shop procedures. As Tim closes the door, you wonder if he’s a gentleman or if he followed you because he doesn’t trust you to drive correctly. Either way, you know what you’re doing, and you won’t let the man in the passenger seat distract you… too much.

Driving toward Wilshire Boulevard for patrol, Tim looks out the window. 

“Blue Camaro has an expired plate,” you alert.

“Call it in.”

You do so, hitting the sirens as you engage the traffic stop. Tim raises a hand to stop you from getting out.

“Remember your training. Don’t let the situation get away from you.”

His words linger in your mind, and you complete the stop with no problem, issuing a ticket and returning to the shop.

“I’m driving,” Tim alerts you, spreading his hand across the small of your back as he directs you to the sidewalk.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask when he starts the car.

“No,” he answers bluntly.

You lick your lips nervously, turning your attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, Tim pulls over and hits the brakes.

“I’ve been shot, boot. Where are we?” Tim demands.

Furrowing your brows in surprise at his actions, you answer, “Intersection of 12th and Meadowbrook, west of Redondo. There are several hospitals in a five-mile radius, but only one has a trauma center.”

Tim pulls out wordlessly, continuing his patrol route. Tim doesn't say much else throughout the few hours between his first test and lunch. He lets you point things out, answers your questions about the area and procedures, and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he pulls up to a small circle of food trucks where several police officers are waiting, he turns toward you.

“You’re doing well. I’m not neglecting to give you good feedback for any reason other than once you start riding alone, you won’t get it. My role here is to prepare you for your solo career, not hold your hand until you get there.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for answering my questions,” you reply as you open the door.

Tim’s hand finds your upper back as he leads you to his favorite of the food trucks, a light touch that disappears nearly as quickly as it happened. You thank him quietly for the suggestion before sitting with your fellow rookies.

“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his annoyance breaking through his growing fondness for you.

“Just came to get some food. Your boot seems to be in a good mood.”

“Strange, I thought Tim’s thing was ‘break their spirits in the first hour,’” Nyla adds as she joins Angela.

“You two not have work to do or something?” Tim inquires.

“Something like that. How’s she doing?” Angela tips her chin toward you as she asks.

“She’s got good instincts, knows protocols.”

“But?”

Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.

“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.

“Before what?”

“He can’t take it anymore.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.

Tim grabs the radio, accepting the call as he hits the sirens and turns into a residential area. You chew the inside of your bottom lip; domestic calls are your least favorite, especially when kids are involved. Unwilling to show discomfort, you put on your best brave cop face and follow Tim to the door.

A young girl with a bloody nose and teary eyes opens it, and you glance at Tim before kneeling and asking her to come outside. She listens without question, her lower lip wobbling as you smile.

“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.

Tim nods at you before tilting his head toward the shop. You direct the girl to stand at the edge of the porch and wait for you as you follow Tim inside.

“LAPD, put your hands up!” Tim yells as he steps into a bedroom.

Your eyes widen when you see the large man towering over the girl’s mother. He smiles as he reaches for something.

“Don’t move unless you want to give me a reason,” Tim says lowly. “Step away.”

The man looks toward the nightstand before taking a deep breath and giving up. 

“I got it,” Tim tells you before radioing a code 4.

You wait until Tim has the handcuffs secured to walk outside. The girl runs into your arms, and you pop the shop's trunk, setting her down as you retrieve a small first aid kit. She lets you clean her bloody nose, gripping your wrist when it stings.

“Where’s my mom?” she asks.

“She’s talking to my partner right now, she’ll be out in a few minutes,” you explain.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you answer.

“Mom!” she yells, letting you set her on the ground before she runs to her mom’s side.

“Get in the shop,” Tim commands as he walks past, his hand brushing your arm as he closes the trunk.

You obey, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting as he talks to the EMTs. When he joins you, he drives to a quiet, empty street before switching off his body cam and gesturing for you to do the same.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you’ve heard.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t say what I want to hear. Domestic calls are tough but that wasn’t your first one, was it?”

You shake your head, looking out the windshield instead of at Tim.

“We all have reasons for becoming a cop, and some calls are harder than others. As long as your past doesn’t get in the way and put you in danger, it’s okay to be human,” he continues. “TOs are notoriously hard on you, but we’re also here for you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Tim shrugs, one corner of his lips upturned. “No more sappy stuff, we have work to do.”

“Oh, if you think that was sappy, I’ve got a lot to show you before I graduate to short sleeves.”

The comment catches Tim off guard and makes him feel something he didn’t expect.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the first week, you feel like you know Tim well. His hand spread across your back or shoulder when you’re in front of him, his little reminders that you’re not alone, that you can show emotion when the time allows, and every other little thing he does makes you wonder why there are so many horror stories around his teaching style.

Likewise, Tim thinks he has you down. You ask him questions, ask for his opinions, listen and apply what he says, and send him small smiles when he compliments your work.

But, it only takes a shift to realize that people are multi-faceted, and cops and rookies are no different.

“Good morning,” you greet, passing Tim a small box.

“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.

You smile as you reply, “Nope. Just something I found, and I thought you’d like.”

Tim opens the box, his eyes widening at the 2000 Super Bowl tickets, the Rams’ first win. “I can’t accept these.”

“They were under a bookshelf in my apartment, it’s not like I spent a million dollars on them, Officer Bradford.”

Tucking them into his pocket, Tim opens your door. “Thank you.”

You smile, and Tim thinks your joy is the better gift.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your first call of that day, you show Tim that you don’t just value his opinions.

“Shots fired!” you radio as you duck behind the car.

“Are you hit?” Tim asks.

Shaking your head, you move closer, trusting him to direct you and keep you safe. The men in the house you were called to have automatic weapons, and though you’re a good shot, you’re not a match for their guns alone.

“Backup is on the way, but I need you to do something for me. You trust me?” Tim adds.

“I do.”

“Reach around the back and open the trunk; just far enough to reach the latch. I’ll cover you.”

He stands above you, firing into the shattered window of the house as you slip your arm and back around the end of the shop and open the trunk.

“Good, perfect,” Tim praises as he ducks beside you. His knuckles graze yours as he leans past you. “Can you reach the shotguns?”

Glancing in the window above you, you locate them quickly. “I can.”

“Do it. I got you.”

Once the shotguns are in your hands, you pass one to Tim as you ready your own. Timing your shots, you take out two shooters just as your backup arrives.

“You’re bleeding,” Tim says, his adrenaline dropping as a tactical team takes over.

You look at your arm, just noticing your ripped sleeve and bloody skin. Tim lays his hands on your arm as he turns it toward him.

“I think it was just glass from the windshield,” you say quietly, pointing to the car behind you, riddled with bullet holes and broken glass.

“Either way, we need to get it checked out.”

“Officer Bradford?” you interject. “Thank you. For making sure I trust you.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he mutters, so soft you can barely hear it.

He taps the Super Bowl tickets in his pocket as he rises to get a paramedic to check on you, and you smile, wondering how bad it would be if you fell in love with your TO.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tim points out. “I need to know that whatever is bothering you won’t impair your ability to work with me.”

“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”

Tim considers pressing, but he trusts you. “I’m here. If you decide you want to talk about it.”

He exits the shop and opens your door before you can reach for the handle.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Did you see that?” Nyla gushes, elbowing Angela.

“Ow. See what?”

Nyla points to Tim, closing your door and laying a hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to talk to you.

“That’s not a reprimand,” Angela deduces.

When you smile, a tiny upturning of your lips, Nyla laughs.

“Oh, that boy… The door, the touches, listening to her? He’s gone.”

“Not just him,” Angela adds. “She asks him questions, smiles at him, trusts him more than anyone… and the Super Bowl tickets? They’re adorable.”

“Should we do something?”

“Not yet. I think they’re close to realizing.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After your longest, and worst, day yet, you find yourself in a hospital waiting room beside Tim. He hasn't said anything since a speeding driver ran into your side of the shop, though you've apologized countless times (even though there's nothing you could have done).

Tim’s jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried it will snap. You’re sitting close to him, a bandage around your wrist and an ice pack pressed to your cheek.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Stop- stop apologizing, it’s not your fault,” Tim sighs.

His arm is on the armrest between you, and you move your hand toward his. When he doesn’t back away, you turn your arm to allow your knuckles to brush against his.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him kindly. “He ran a red light.”

“And you could’ve been killed,” Tim replies, standing abruptly and walking away.

You slump in your seat, dejected and curious about what you could say to make him stop blaming himself for someone running into you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim and his rookie sitting in a tree,” Nyla sings under her breath.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” Tim replies.

“Right, because you’re too busy being mad that she got hurt. Cops get hurt Tim,” Angela reminds him.

“Not with me,” he begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “Despite what you think, I’m upset that she got hurt, not because I’m in love with her.”

“Whatever you got to hear, buddy,” Nyla replies. “But tell me this. If it was Nolan when he was a boot, would you have felt this bad? Even if I believed you didn’t have feelings for her, which I don’t, you’re different with her and you know it.”

Tim sighs, looking out the door at you. He knows it’s true; despite his constant denial, he does treat you differently because you are different, and you’re like a magnet, incapable of being ignored or forgotten. Finally confessing it to himself, Tim knows that his feelings for you will get one or both of you in trouble unless something changes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It is time for The Switch,” Wade says as he walks into the bullpen. “The day you ride with a new TO.”

You glance at Tim, who gives you an encouraging nod. He tells you that you’re a great rookie, but he also tells you that you’re pretty sometimes, which doesn’t seem pertinent (or always true, in your eyes). Wade says your name, and you look up.

“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.

Smiling at Nolan, you cross your fingers under the desk that it’s a good day. 

“Henderson,” you call as he stands up, “what’s Nolan like?”

“He’s great. Really understanding and knowledgeable. A little talkative, but fairly easy going. Just stick to protocol and listen to his directions; you’ll be fine.”

“What about Bradford?” Vincent asks you. “Everyone says he’s the toughest. Anything I should be aware of?”

“I don’t think so. He’s quiet sometimes, but he’s great.”

You collect your war bag with the expectation of a good day. You will miss Tim, but learning how another TO teaches and his views can be invaluable. As you slide into the driver’s seat beside Nolan, you realize something: you like Tim as more than your TO. He means more to you than just being your teacher, your mentor, and a trustworthy officer. The thought hits you so suddenly you're not sure where it came from.

With each passing moment, you find yourself remembering something Tim said or wanting to tell him something, but he isn’t there. Nolan is kind and laughs at your muttered comments, but it is nothing like riding with Tim. As you think about all the little things Tim does, everything begins to make sense.

Someone yells your name when you step out of the shop to get lunch. Turning, you’re surprised to see Vincent storming up to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

“That Bradford has ‘Tim Tests’ and nothing pleases him!”

You glance over his shoulder, finding Tim and Nolan talking. Tim glances over at you, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease until Nolan says something else.

“His Tim Tests aren’t that bad; he’s just teaching you awareness and safety.”

“He wants to end my career,” Vincent exclaims before muttering something about you not understanding as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.

“That kid has no situational awareness,” Tim answers. “I stopped at a street sign, and he couldn’t figure out where we were.”

“He’s probably scared of you,” Nyla interjects. “And, no, Bradford, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“My rookie can tell me where I am, no matter what,” Tim adds.

“Your rookie is very good, I’ll give you that,” Nolan replies. “But Vincent has potential. Besides, your boot has people problems.”

Tim glances over at you, locking eyes with you while Vincent talks to you dramatically.

“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”

Nyla watches as both you and Tim sigh before abandoning the conversations you’re in. She shakes her head, calculating her winnings if the betting pool goes her way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the locker room at the end of the day, you’re surprised to be called into Sergeant Grey’s office. You sit across from him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to spend your nervous energy.

“You are being assigned to a new TO. Officer Bradford has decided to hand you off to someone better equipped to teach you,” Grey informs. “But you’re not in trouble.”

You still your hands in your lap. “Okay. Effective when?”

“Monday morning. So, rest up.”

As you stand, Grey says your name, smiling as he repeats, “You’re not in trouble. This was Bradford’s decision, nothing to do with you. Well, nothing to do with you as a rookie.”

You purse your lips at his phrasing, and he chuckles before sending you out. Walking through the parking lot, you see Tim’s truck is still there and decide to ask him what happened. Standing by the tailgate, you chew your bottom lip as you wait, nervous that you did something, though Wade assured you differently.

Tim walks up unnoticed, saying your name to get your attention.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask, jumping straight to your questions. “I can fix it; there has to be a way to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Tim promises. “I just can’t be your TO anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tim shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s not appropriate.”

Your heart drops. Tim knows you have feelings for him, and it makes him uncomfortable; that’s the only explanation. Nodding slowly, you accept your fate.

“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.

His hands slide onto your jaw, his palms against your cheeks as his fingers settle behind your ears, pulling you into a quick kiss. You only begin to respond when he pulls back.

“You’re the best boot I’ve ever had,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m not your boot anymore,” you remind him.

“That’s your fault. Those little gifts, and soft smiles, and how well you listen… You make it impossible not to fall for you.”

You laugh, leaning against his hands as you reply, “You do too. How do you think I felt when you called me pretty or touched my back? Then you kept comforting me and inviting me to talk. It was too easy.”

“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.

You nod, smiling against his hands before he moves to touch your back again, opening the passenger door as he helps you in. Tim slips his hand into yours, kissing your knuckles as he keeps you close.

✯✯✯✯✯

When the rest of the rookies leave the station, noticing that your car is still there, they ask each other if anyone has seen you.

“Bradford’s truck is gone,” Nyla notices as she walks out.

“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.

“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.

“On a date,” Nyla answers. “With his former boot.”

The rookies’ jaws drop, wondering how you managed to pull Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Don’t expect the same to happen to you,” Angela says as she passes the rookies. “We all worked for this one.”

Once in a Lifetime

The Rookie x SWAT documentary-style (reader insert) crossover

Summary: Mid-Wilshire opens a case that requires seven police departments, numerous SWAT teams, and an unusual witness. As the public watches a documentary all about the case and the people involved, they see more than crime.

Warnings: narration is in italics, injuries and blood, character death, discussion of child abuse, depiction of cults/brainwashing, fake tweets, I probably went overboard, fluff and comfort at the end I promise

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: This idea struck me last night and I had to do something with it. I hope someone enjoys it, but I'm never using a tweet generator again because it took an embarrassing amount of time.🤍

What if a once-in-a-lifetime moment depended on a single decision, rather than a plethora of them?

“I didn’t call the police because it’s none of my business. I’ve seen how she treats her kids, why would I interject my family into that when I don’t have to?”

What if the one moment that could change everything was slipping away before you arrived?

“I’ve got a pulse! As soon as we’re code 4, I need an R/A standing by!”

What if the world stopped for your once in a lifetime?

“The 405 has been shut down between Signal Hill and Alameda Street. This sudden, unexplained closure, in conjunction with the heavy law enforcement presence throughout Los Angeles, has citizens alert and concerned.”

What if the only person who can save you is the result of dozens of perfectly aligned once-in-a-lifetime moments?

“7-Lincoln-100, I’ve located another-“

This is Once in a Lifetime.

Sergeant Tim Bradford, Officers Chen, Nolan, Juarez, and Smitty enter different areas of the Mid-Wilshire police station. Detective Lopez and her husband, attorney Wesley Evers, take a seat in their home, while Detective Nyla Harper and Sergeant Wade Grey sit at their respective desks. Each officer has been interviewed for a documentary before, but the mood is distinctly somber as compared to the other episodes.

“Hi, I’m Alex, host of ‘It’s All Bloody (and) True,’” the man behind the camera introduces. “Today’s episode is about the case involving eight different police departments, four specialized units, a major highway closure, and - correct me if I’m wrong - a series of once-in-a-lifetime decisions and opportunities that seem mathematically impossible.”

“Mathematically impossible?” Wesley repeats. “Try completely impossible. On paper, there is no way this case should have lined up the way it did.”

“Not to say it was easy,” Angela adds. “I’ve been on the job for a long time, and this was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“As the veteran officer on this case,” Wade continues from his office, “I agree with Detective Lopez. Everything g about this was unprecedented.”

“I’d like to start with day one of the investigation,” Alex requests. “Take us through the first moment, the call, and how this came into your station and became your duty.”

Lucy answers, “911 dispatchers received a call from a distressed man claiming that his neighbor had gone missing.”

“A call that raised concern for more reasons than his distress, correct?”

“Yes,” Sergeant Bradford says. “The caller mentioned the name of his neighbor’s employer.”

ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: CALLER She- she went to work like she always does, but this was days ago. It would’ve been… Monday, no Tuesday because my wife was making donuts for her board meeting. Eileen called her in at some crazy time. DISPATCH You said Eileen? Is that your neighbor’s boss? CALLER Yes, yes. Eileen Indigo, I believe. She’s made her do crazy things before, but she needs the job, you know? I’m just really scared because she’s never done anything like this before and Eileen has some serious issues. DISPATCH Officers have been alerted and will be performing a welfare check, sir.

“You responded to the welfare check?” Alex inquires.

“We did,” John Nolan replies. “There was no answer at the door, so we surveyed what we could see and there was no sign of anyone inside, of forced entry, or any foul play.”

“Without that, there’s no probable cause for us to enter,” his rookie, Celina, adds. “Although there was a feeling of urgency surrounding her residence.”

“Is that- is that something you look for as police?”

“Of course not,” Tim snaps. “But we’re human, we have emotions. We notice things about how people and places feel.”

“Unfortunately, Officer Juarez’s empathy and intuition wasn’t enough for us to move forward,” Lucy continues. “And without any sign that something nefarious had happened, all we could do was post a missing person’s report.”

“But the case stood out?” Alex guesses.

“Right,” Tim agrees. “Because of Eileen Indigo.”

PREVIOUS INTERVIEW FOOTAGE: “Ms. Indigo,” Detective Harper greets. “We have a few questions about your relationship with Devon Taylor.” “There isn’t one,” the young woman replies, picking at her shirt rather than looking at the cop across from her. “He left six months ago. During our kids’ birthday party, can you believe that?” “Ma’am, we located Mr. Taylor. He’s deceased, and his body was dumped in a viaduct.” The woman sits back in the chair, straightens her shirt, and asks, “Did he have cash on him? I gave him $50 for a new flat iron before he ran out.”

“So, why did the mention of her name spark interest?" Alex asks. "Taylor’s case had been closed, his best friend - who turns out to be Ms. Indigo’s, uh…”

“Sidepiece?” Angela suggests.

“Mister?” Wesley adds. “There’s not a direct mirror of ‘mistress,’ is there?”

“Yeah, the friend got jealous that Indigo hadn't left her husband and offed him. What made us remember Indigo was the complete lack of care,” Grey explains.

“That and the concerns about her treatment of their children,” Nyla comments.

“Surely if she was mistreating her children, it would have been uncovered during the duration of your investigation?” Alex hypothesizes.

“Not our investigation.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Right, there were eight police stations involved in this case,” Alex remembers.

“There are only 21 stations in Los Angeles, for reference,” Wesley says. “Seven of the stations working this case were in LA. So, one-third of the officers were directly tied to this case in some capacity.”

“And the introduction of Eileen Indigo introduced this collaboration?”

“Not exactly,” Tim begins. “When we began looking into Indigo, it was only in regards to how she was treating our missing person. And, as we began looking into that, we discovered past complaints and CPS reports of her children being mistreated.”

“And?”

“CPS found nothing,” Nolan replies.

“Their investigations - plural - all determined that the children were in good health, being cared for, and not in any immediate danger,” Celina states.

“So, you went back to square one,” Alex says, flipping a page of his notes.

“Not at all,” Wade interrupts. “We were still trying to piece together the caller’s claim that Indigo mistreated her kids and her employees when we received a call from another station.”

“And he dropped a bombshell,” Nyla deadpans.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Would you mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.

“Sure. I’m Commander Robert Hicks, LAPD SWAT,” the man seated in a different station greets.

“Upon learning that Mid-Wilshire was looking into Eileen Indigo, you called their watch commander. Why?”

“After the initial report of child abuse, my 20-David SWAT team was dispatched to Indigo’s residence. Responding officers reported that she had barricaded herself and her children inside. My people got there, got in, and found that Indigo and her children were asleep, completely safe and unharmed.”

“And that didn’t bring more questions?”

“Of course it did,” Hicks argues. “There’s just procedure to follow, and even though my team wanted to get to the bottom of what happened and find out more about Indigo, we can’t just dive into people’s background because we feel like it.”

“When you called Grey, were you planning to offer your team to be on standby?”

“No, and I didn’t right away.”

“When was it decided that SWAT would be beneficial to working the case?”

“After the next call,” overlapping voices reply.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Roll Call Room: “This is Sergeant Harrelson, Sergeant Kay, Officer Luca, Officer Tan, and Officer Street,” Wade introduces. “They will be on standby during the visit to Ms. Indigo’s home. If a warrant is issued, they will serve it.” “We have experience with Indigo and have been on the home before, so we’re happy to offer any assistance we can,” Harrelson adds. “What if she lets us search the house and we don’t find anything?” Officer Juarez asks. “It’s a missing persons’ report, there’s not much we can do,” Nolan answers. “One thing at a time,” Wade reminds them.

“Not only did you secure a warrant because of a subsequent complaint, but you felt it necessary to bring in five additional departments from different stations,” Alex muses. “What did you find that led you to take such extreme measures?”

“Let’s just say, I drew up the affidavit, and while you’re only required to provide the judge with probable cause to believe evidence is present in the location being searched, my document was nearly 50 pages in length,” Wesley shares.

“And the judge only read the first page,” Angela adds.

Nyla then says, “The judge signed not only the warrant for her office but gave us a warrant for every piece of real estate she had under her name. We found five additional residences and several acres of land outside of Palm Springs.”

“Making Palm Springs PD the third station to join what was turning into a hunt for the missing woman,” Lucy connects. “It was also at this point that Sergeant Grey knew we needed to serve all six warrants simultaneously, so we needed more hands.”

“In addition to recruiting Metro, patrol, and SWAT officers from our sister stations,” Wade adds, “we also put out a nationwide BOLO. It was Thursday afternoon at this point, so we were two days past when the 911 caller had last seen his neighbor alive.”

“With a plan to raid Indigo’s office and homes at the same time, you went out in teams,” Alex says. “But most people who’ve had A&E any time after 2004 know that the first 48 hours of missing persons investigations are vital, and after that, the chances of finding them alive go down.”

The camera shows Nyla, usually the effortlessly funny detective, sigh deeply before she says, “That’s what made the next part so hard.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

Alex finds a paper with names on it, then says, “This is the team that raided Eileen Indigo’s office in California Heights. Going around the table quickly, we have Commander Bob Hicks, 20-David SWAT members Sergeants Harrelson and Kay, Officers Luca, Tan, and Street, as well as Detective Harper, and Officer Chen. Additionally, Metro Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

“And I was the one who chose to close the 405,” Wade offers.

“As someone who worked for LBPD, I continue to support that decision,” Street says. “The office building - which was a converted house - backed up to Orange Avenue, which crosses the 405 and has its own on-ramp. Had she been able to get on there and disappear into car-pocalypse, we’d be telling a different story right now.”

“That was surprisingly logical,” Harrelson - who invited everyone to call him Hondo before the cameras started rolling - muses.

“So, the 405 is closed for a good reason, but why leave the public hanging?” Alex wonders.

“To protect ourselves and others,” Lucy says. “If she knew we were coming, who’s to know what she might have done.”

“She would’ve run,” Tim adds from his commander’s office. “Or, worse, she would have harmed the people close to her to throw us off her scent.”

“You said ‘the people closest to her.’ Raiding Indigo’s office made this case about more than a missing woman,” Alex editorializes.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE - Eileen Indigo's Office Building: “LAPD,” Hondo calls quietly as a woman sitting at the front desk raises her hands in shock. “Get down on the ground. How many people are inside?” “Just Ms. Indigo, her assistants, and the trigon team,” she whispers.

PREVIOUS 911 CALL: CALLER I don’t know what exactly she’s doing! Her children are outside in the cold reciting something about tricycles, maybe? She has a paper in her hand and when they say the wrong word, she threatens them! DISPATCH Officers and EMS are en route.

“Tell me more about Trigon,” Alex requests.

“I wish we could,” Angela replies.

“Indigo’s trigon team continues to be a mystery,” Wesley explains further. “There’s real estate holdings with each team member listed as a beneficiary, they’ve got a joint bank account, but we can’t find any real evidence of them actually doing anything together.”

“As far as we could tell,” Tim begins, looking away from the camera quickly, “the so-called trigon team was some sort of attempt at starting a cult. The uh, ‘members’ were evaluated by a psychiatrist, who believed there had been a degree of brainwashing involved.”

“When we connected the 911 call about her – how do I put this? – initiation of her children, we knew there was more to Indigo’s business than we anticipated,” Lucy says. “But, at the moment during the raid, we were in no way interested in getting these answers, just finding the missing woman and getting cuffs on Eileen.”

“Without an arrest warrant,” Wade reminds Alex and his viewers. “We had to find probable cause to legally arrest her, and though the judge understood our evidentiary concerns and issued the search warrants, he didn’t have enough to give us an arrest warrant.”

“So, you went in looking for something you could arrest her for?” Alex asks, suddenly sounding accusatory.

“No,” Tim snaps. “We went in looking for a missing person because there was more than enough evidence that Indigo had engaged in threats of violence in and out of the workplace.”

“But isn’t workplace mistreatment a civil matter?”

“Most cases are,” Wesley agrees. “But when it grows more severe; when threats progress to actual physical assault, it becomes a criminal offense under California law.”

“There was no evidence of that included in the affidavit.”

“That’s because Palm Springs PD hadn’t found her trophies,” Nyla responds.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Palm Springs Property: “Clear!” an officer calls. “We’re code 4.” “I got something!” another voice alerts. A sergeant passes through the barricade and kneels by the recently disturbed dirt. A large metal box protrudes from the shallow hole, and he radios for a forensics team. When they arrive, the box is photographed before it is removed and opened. Inside, there are dozens of disturbing photographs (which have been blurred for viewers of the documentary). “Get Sergeant Grey on the phone!” someone yells.

“When I received the call, the teams serving warrants on her LA properties had already left the station,” Wade explains. “I alerted the senior officer at each location and allowed them to distribute that knowledge as they saw fit.”

“It ended up being completely irrelevant,” Sergeant ‘Deacon’ Kay interjects. “When we reached the conference room of Indigo’s office, we had enough to arrest her.”

“The trigon team was…” Angela pauses, attempting to find the right word.

“Cataloging,” Nyla finishes for her. “They were sorting new, additional pictures that put Indigo not only at several crime scenes but explained how she had evaded CPS and past officer visits in the past.”

“She was mistreating her children?” Alex translates.

“Not physically,” Celina answers.

“Though there were early signs of that progression during the children’s examinations,” Nolan adds. “No, she preferred psychologically abusing her children. Brainwashing, manipulation, a sick sort of training, whatever you want to call it, she forced it upon her children.”

“And her employees, as it proved with the trigon team.”

“So, you find the trigon team, arrest them with relative ease, and then what happens?” Alex asks.

“It sounded like the world was ending,” Lucy answers.

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Building: “Street, Bradford,” Hondo calls, “with me.” Street and Tim fall into line behind Hondo and continue moving through the narrow hallway. As they pass Indigo’s open door and empty office, a sudden, deafening noise fills their ears and the microphones on their body cameras. Every officer ducks forward instinctually and attempts to drown out the noise. “It’s coming from the garage!” Tim yells. “7-Adam-19, we need backup in the kitchen! Taking fire!” Lucy radios. “Go!” Street tells Hondo, “We’ll handle the garage.” Hondo nods and moves through the noisy house to assist the officers being fired at. “Eyes on Indigo!” Nyla alerts. “Moving from the kitchen toward the master bedroom!” Tim taps Street’s shoulder before they enter the garage. As the door opens, the noise grows louder. “What the-“ Street mumbles. “Go!” Tim yells. “Shut it off!” Street nods, then pulls the strap on his gun across his chest. With his hands free, he grabs the jackhammer being held upright by 5-gallon buckets filled with sand and water. As he tries to find the right button to turn it off, Tim circles the car slowly before he drops to his knees and slides his head and shoulders beneath it. “Eileen Indigo is in custody,” Nyla radios after the jackhammer silences. “Back bedroom is barricaded,” Luca adds. “Hold for entry.” “Bradford, what are you doing?” Street inquires. Tim pushes himself out, and Street immediately sees the blood – your blood - coating his hands. Tim says, “I found her,” then returns to his original position beneath the car. “Officers taking fire!” Tan alerts. “Deac!” Street calls into his radio. “We need a medic.” “We need a little more than a medic!” Tim barks. “Where are you?” Deacon asks, raising his voice over the commotion in the house. “Garage,” Street answers. “I can’t get over there, Street. I’m on the 3-side and there’s a firefight between us,” Deacon replies. “Victim has been located,” Tim radios, shockingly calm for someone with blood up his forearms. “We need an R/A. I’ve got a pulse, but not for long.” “Can we move her?” Street asks, moving to his knees to look under the car. “She’s not responsive,” Tim replies. “It’s not smart, but we’re running out of options.” “It’s probably a stupid idea,” Street decides. Tim turns his head, keeping his hands against your sides. “What’s a stupid idea?” “This car probably runs, has a big trunk… We need to get her help, right?” Tim hesitates, then says, “Get in the car.” “What part of move her did you not hear?” “We can’t move her much, she’ll bleed out. Pull the car forward.” “Hondo, we need someone blocking the garage, we're moving the vic,” Street radios as he climbs into the car. “It’s a button-start, if the key isn’t close enough, we can’t start it.” “Street, try!” Tim yells as gunfire grows louder.

“You find Eileen Indigo, take her into custody, and find the missing woman,” Alex reiterates. “And decide to drive over her, knowing she was injured. That seems like an absolute last resort.”

“Considering we were in a gunfight with Eileen’s version of private security and an ambulance can’t come in until we’re completely clear, we needed a last resort,” Nyla snaps. “It’s not something we’d do every day, but it was what we needed in this instance. It was try to get her in the car and out of the house, or risk letting the woman bleed out.”

The shot changes to Tim Bradford, who looks at a piece of paper lying in his lap but doesn’t speak.

“Sergeant Bradford?” Alex says softly.

“Yeah,” he replies, shaking his head as he looks up. He flips the paper, briefly showing the camera that it’s an image of you – smiling, happy, and alive. “While Officer Street started the car, I kept pressure on the victim’s wounds and ensured neither of us was in the way of the tires.”

“Officer Street’s recollection suggests you covered the victim’s body with your own. Is that what made this case emotional?”

“Amongst other things.”

BODY CAM FOOTAGE – Eileen Indigo’s Office Garage: “Okay, let’s do this,” Street says, rounding the SUV as the trunk opens. Tim shifts, moving to your left side as his hands press against your side, just below your ribs. “The kids,” you mumble. “We’ve got them,” Tim assures you. “Do you know where you are?” You open your eyes and meet Tim’s gaze, murmur, “Thank you,” and lose consciousness. “She’s fading, we have to go now,” Tim states. “Tell me what to do, Sergeant,” Street requests. Tim looks around and gestures to a stack of beach towels with his chin. “Put those in the trunk, then come put pressure here.” Street does as Tim instructed and holds your side as Tim lifts you in a bridal carry. You groan, and Tim is glad to hear you reacting but terrified by how much blood you’re losing and your lack of consciousness. “Drive,” Tim demands as he climbs into the trunk with you. “26-David and Sergeant Bradford, transporting victim in suspect’s Chevrolet Tahoe, partial plate Foxtrot-9-3-4,” Street alerts dispatch. The hospital becomes visible just as Wade radios, “We’re 10-4 all around, code 4. Indigo and the shooters are in custody.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“With the teamwork of seven stations, nearly 200 officers, and a 60-hour-long hunt, the missing woman was located,” Alex narrates. “And is transported to the hospital.”

“Less than an hour later, we received a call that she died on the operating table,” Nyla says. “There really wasn’t anything we could do at that point, just hope that the evidence would talk, and Eileen’s reformed followers and children could testify.”

“You found the victim. How did that news affect you?” Alex asks Street and Bradford, now separated from the other officers.

“What kind of question is that?” Street asks. “Regardless of who found her, the news of her death was still devastating.”

“Calls like that are always hard,” Tim answers flatly. “But we didn’t have a ton of time to dwell on it before Officer Thorsen found something else.”

ACTUAL RADIO COMMUNICATION: “7-Lincoln-100,” Aaron Thorsen radios. “I’ve located another employee of Eileen Indigo’s. Albert Camden, in custody for 211 with a water gun.” “Yeah, Albert Camden was still relatively sane,” Wade deadpans. “He gave us everything we needed to prosecute Eileen to the full extent of the law.” “Why turn on his employer so easily?” Alex inquires. “She threatened to kill his family if he didn’t rob the corner store where he was arrested,” Angela answers. “After he learned she was in custody, he gave us detailed accounts of his time with Indigo and why he didn’t quit.” “And it was during this time that the final 911 call came in,” Alex says.

ACTUAL TRANSCRIPT OF 911 CALL: DISPATCH 911, what’s the location of your emergency? CALLER I need to speak to Bradford. DISPATCH I’m sorry? CALLER He’s a cop, and I have information for him about Eileen Indigo, but I don’t know which station he works at.

Tim looks up from the camera and the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Welcome,” Alex greets, shaking hands with someone behind the camera. “Thanks for coming to tell your side.”

Tim shifts his seat to the right and invites the 911 caller to sit beside him.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“Mind introducing yourself?” Alex asks.

You send him a small smile and shift in your seat before offering your name. “I worked for Eileen Indigo for about 6 weeks before she decided she wanted me to be a 24-hour employee.”

“Meaning?”

“She invited me to stay in the office 24/7 and do essentially anything she asked me. I very briefly considered it, only to ensure her children were safe, but ultimately turned it down. It was at that time she abducted me.”

“Why did you decide to fake your death?”

“I didn’t,” you reply with a smile. “Sergeant Kay did, and after the role he played in saving my life, with Officer Street and Sergeant Bradford, I wasn’t going to argue.”

“So,” Alex begins with Deacon and Street, “Why?”

“We learned that the father of her children wasn’t out of the picture, not like we thought,” Street answers.

“Mr. Devon Taylor was not murdered,” Deacon adds. “He met with detectives at the Mid-Wilshire station and worked with them to try to recover his children from their birth mother.”

“Taylor had an associate who was planning to take over Indigo’s business and real estate endeavors,” Nyla explains.

“I figured if her enterprise was directly connected to a murder, he’d hesitate,” Deacon continues.

“And he did,” Alex replies. “Just long enough to be caught using Indigo’s bank account. So, he was taken into custody, yet your people were not alerted to the actual survival of the victim.”

“Right,” Tim answers through a clenched jaw. “A minor oversight.”

“One of the doctors caught it and allowed me to call Sergeant Bradford,” you say. “I had to thank him for saving me, but he did hang up on me.”

Lucy laughs, leaning forward, before she exclaims, “His face! He hung up and immediately drove to the hospital with his lights and sirens on.”

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS DURING LIVE BROADCAST:

“After a series of no less than a dozen once-in-a-lifetime opportunities aligning perfectly, Eileen Indigo was arrested and is going to trial in the coming weeks,” Alex concludes. “Anything that stands out to you as the case comes to a close?”

Each officer offers a lesson or two that can be learned from their time working the case, except for Tim, Deacon, and you. During Alex’s ending narration, a cameraman steps around a corner and zooms in on you. Viewers watch in delight as you smile with Tim and Deacon. When your hand rises to Tim’s arm after Deacon excuses himself, people begin to wonder if Tim got more than a good arrest.

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS AFTER LIVE BROADCAST: (featuring your response to the massive amount of feedback)

Lucy Chen - 2 new messages

It’s not just us, everyone can see the chemistry🤭 Have fun on your date!!

He might not say it, but you’re Tim’s once-in-a-lifetime. Thanks for being there for him.

Tim Through the Years - The First Date

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Tim go on your very first date. 0.3k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the love on this series so far! My friend and I are looking forward to hearing more of your thoughts and ideas!

Sitting in front of Tim at a really fancy restaurant was stressful, to say the least. Everything on the menu was hard to pronounce and you didn't know what any of it meant. Luckily, Google was your friend that night.

“See anything on the menu you like?” Tim asked from behind his own menu.

“Um, everything looks so good. It's hard to choose,” you said while grimacing about the fact there are five items that include snails.

“To be honest, this isn’t really my thing. But I know a fantastic Chinese restaurant down the street. Their noodles are amazing,” you said while placing down your menu.

“That sounds amazing. I wanted to impress you, so I tried taking you somewhere really nice,” Tim said while standing and offering his hand. 

“So tell me about yourself,” Tim said while drinking some water.

“Well, as you know I’m a teacher. Graduated with my twin brother from Stanford. I was born and raised in Kansas with a heavy male influence,” you stated with a smile.

“What does your brother do?” Tim asked.

“Well, my older brother moved to Stanford with me and my twin so we can all stay together. He opened a mechanic shop. My twin is a lawyer, he has his own firm. We all are really close, so we get together at least once a week,” you said while smiling; you love getting to talk about your brothers.

“Wow, I wish I was closer to my sister. She is actually moving closer to me, so I will get to spend more time with her and my nephews,” Tim said when the food arrived.

The night went on with telling stories and getting to know each other better. It was going so well that the both of you decided to go get ice cream because you weren’t ready for it to end. But after walking along the pier and getting your frozen treat, the later it was getting. The time for the end of the date had come.

“I had fun tonight,” you told Tim at your front door.

“Me too. Can I take you out to lunch tomorrow? I want to see you again really soon,” Tim said with a cheesy smile.

“I would love that.” You kissed Tim on the cheek. “Goodnight, Tim.”

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Feat Abbot Staff!!

Carmy hated Sundays.

The Bear was closed and for a man used to the relentless pace of a kitchen—orders flying in, knives slicing, pans clattering—the stillness of a day off felt more like a curse than a blessing. Without the chaos to ground him, he was left alone with his thoughts, something he avoids at all coast. He’d tried to fill the hours: cleaning his already spotless apartment, flipping through a cookbook he’d read a dozen times, even going for a run. But nothing seemed to stick. The quiet only made the knots in his chest tighten.

That’s why he was here, walking aimlessly through the park, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. The air was crisp, the kind of late-autumn chill that bit at your nose but wasn’t cold enough to send you running for cover. Leaves crunched under his sneakers, their vivid oranges and yellows scattered across the path like nature’s version of confetti. The walk wasn’t fixing anything, but at least it gave him something to do. Something to focus on other than the gnawing sense that he should be doing more—even if he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

The distant sound of cheering, music, laughter, and the unmistakable squeak of sneakers against asphalt drew his attention. Rounding a corner, he spotted the commotion: the park’s basketball court was packed with people, all gathered around a lively game. A colorful banner hung crookedly above the entrance: Teachers vs. Parents Fundraiser—Help Abbott Elementary Score New Desks!

Carmy slowed his steps, curiosity tugging at him. Abbott Elementary. He’d heard you mention it in passing—how you loved your chaotic fourth graders, even when they tested your patience. You’d shared stories that had made him laugh more than he expected, like the time students were ‘desking’ and one of her coworkers splint her ankle.

On the court, two teams—one in bright shirts labeled Teacher Squad—were in the middle of a heated game. The crowd around the edges was just as lively, holding signs and hollering encouragement. Kids raced around with ice cream cones, parents juggled snacks and folding chairs, and a few teachers shouted at their teammates with varying levels of enthusiasm... And cameras?

Carmy’s gaze drifted toward the sidelines, and that’s when he saw you.

You were holding a clipboard, looking equal parts coach, cheerleader, and chaos manager, laughing as a tall man in a Teacher Squad t-shirt tried to dribble past a petite woman in braids who had the energy of someone far too invested in a friendly game.

“Janine!” you shouted, waving your clipboard. “Stick to defense, not interpretive dance!”

Janine threw her arms up. “I am playing defense! I just happen to be expressive about it!”

Another man—who Carmy guessed was not a regular athlete—tried to block someone but ended up tripping over his own feet.

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd as a woman with an air of authority rolled her eyes. “Jacob, for heaven’s sake, plant your feet!”

“I’m working on it!” The man, Jacob, shouted back, sweating bullets.

Meanwhile, on a DJ setup at the edge of the court, a woman stood at a table with a microphone in one hand and a portable turntable in the other. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a sparkly "Finest Principal of the Year" t-shirt.

She leaned into the mic, her voice dripping with confidence. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and everyone else lucky enough to witness this greatness, welcome to The Ava Coleman’s Show! Featuring basketball, fundraising, and these fabulous beats brought to you by yours truly.”

Carmy was unable to look away from the scene. It was chaos—absolute, unfiltered chaos—but there was something oddly magnetic about it.

You caught sight of him before he could decide whether to leave or stay. Your eyes lit up in recognition, and you broke into a grin, waving him over. “Carmy? Hey!”

He froze, realizing he’d been caught observing, he hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to you. “Uh, hey.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, jogging over to the sideline with a bright smile.

“Just walking,” he said, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered on you a little longer than he intended. “Didn’t know there was an event.”

You grinned, gesturing to the chaos behind you. “Yep! Teachers vs. Parents fundraiser. Most desks in my classroom are about two good elbows away from falling apart, so here we are.”

“That bad?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You have no idea." You laugh.

Carmy glanced at the court, where a small woman—Janine, if he recalled correctly—attempted a layup… and missed. Spectacularly. The ball rebounded off the rim and smacked into Jacob, who yelped and stumbled backward into an older woman, spilling her lemonade.

“Jacob!” The woman scolded, dabbing at her blouse with a napkin. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you made it this far in life.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” Jacob said, raising his hands defensively before being yanked back into formation by a red haired woman.

“Quit standing there like a scarecrow, Jacob,” she barked. “Play defense, for crying out loud! And somebody get Barbara another lemonade.”

“Looks... intense.” Carmy tells her.

“Oh, it is,” you said with mock seriousness. “Melissa’s out for blood, Barbara’s refusing to play, and Janine... well, she's... enthusiastic. The only one that can give us a fighting chance is Gregory." You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder toward the court.

On the court, a tall man with a serious demeanor—whom Carmy guessed was Gregory—executed a perfect jump shot, earning cheers from the teacher's side. Nearby, Janine with a bright smile, clapped enthusiastically.

"Nice shot, Gregory!" Janine called out, her admiration evident.

Carmy chuckled softly,“Sounds like you’ve got it covered.”

Before you could respond, the DJ's, Ava, voice boomed over the mic again. “Heads up! This next track is dedicated to the parents who thought they could outplay me.”

She hit a button, and Jump Around blared from the speakers.

“Is she always like this?” Carmy asked, nodding toward Ava.

“Always,” you said, grinning. “But we love her. Mostly... she's what I like to call a creative leader."

“So, this is what you do on Sundays?” He asked.

“Not every Sunday,” you said, shrugging. “But when the kids need desks, we show up. Gotta support the cause, right?”

He nodded, shifting his weight. “Seems like a good cause.”

“It is,” you said warmly, then tilted your head at him. “You can stay if you want. No pressure. But, it’s more fun than wandering around on your own, I promise.”

He hesitated, his instinct to keep moving clashing with the unexpected comfort of your presence. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “I’ll even buy you a cupcake from the snack table. Chocolate, with sprinkles. The good kind.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s your pitch? A cupcake?”

“Best ones in town,” you replied confidently. “Baked by Barbara herself. And trust me, if you’ve never had a Barbara Howard cupcake, you haven’t lived.”

For a moment, he debated it. Sundays were his least favorite day for a reason. But here, in the middle of this chaos—your chaos—it didn’t feel so bad. Finally, he let out a small sigh and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good choice,” you replied, patting his shoulder before gesturing toward an empty spot on the sidelines. “Park it there, Chef Carmy. You’re about to witness the greatest—and messiest—game of all time.”

He watched as you jogged back, clipboard in hand, before stopping in front of Barbara, who was comfortably seated on a folding chair with her arms crossed and a bottle of water balanced neatly on her knee.

“Alright, Barbie, the game's still on track and we are five points down,” you said, tapping your clipboard against your hip with mock authority.

Barbara didn’t even flinch, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh no, dear. I’ve done my part. My knees are not built for this level of foolishness.”

“But the kids need you!” you countered, raising your hands in a dramatic display of desperation. “Think of the desks, Barbara. The desks!”

Barbara waved a hand dismissively, though Carmy caught the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. “The children will survive, desks or no desks. But I will not survive chasing a basketball like a teenager. It’s your turn.”

You let out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tossing your clipboard onto the bench. “Fine! Guess I’ll have to take one for the team. Again. The things I do for education.”

Barbara chuckled softly, waving you off. “Do your best, dear.”

Carmy leaned against the fence, arms crossed, as he settled in to watch. His eyes tracked your movements on the court as you threw yourself into the game with unrelenting enthusiasm. It was almost endearing—almost. You darted toward the ball, arms outstretched to block a pass—only to misjudge your angle entirely and slam directly into Jacob, who yelped as he tumbled to the ground in a heap of limbs.

The ball ricocheted off Jacob’s head, soaring through the air and narrowly missing Melissa, who jumped back with a glare.

“Watch it!” she barked.

“Sorry!” you shouted, grimacing as you crouched down to help a dazed Jacob to his feet. “That one’s on me.”

Jacob groaned, rubbing his elbow. “No worries. Just another day of being collateral damage.”

“You’re a champ,” you said, patting him on the back as the ball was scooped up by one of the parents. “Shake it off!”

“Classic,” Ava’s voice boomed from the DJ table. “That’s why you don’t mix bad aim with too much confidence. Someone get this on video for the highlight reel.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, leaning further into the fence as the game pressed on. Watching you, he felt the restless tension in his chest begin to ease, replaced by something lighter.

You weren’t the most graceful player on the court—far from it. Within minutes, you’d tripped over your own shoelaces, collided with Janine during an overly enthusiastic pass, and accidentally launched the ball straight into Gregory’s face. But every stumble, every misstep, was met with your laughter—a sound so warm and genuine it seemed to ripple through the air, softening everything around it.

Carmy’s smirk deepened as he watched you jog back to your spot, waving apologetically to Gregory, who gave you a long-suffering look in return.

“C’mon, Chef Carmy,” you called out suddenly, spotting him on the sidelines. “Don’t just stand there! Grab a cupcake or something! Ava promised to drop the bass for every basket we score.”

“If you score,” Ava chimed in over the mic, smirking as she adjusted her oversized sunglasses. “Let’s not set unrealistic expectations.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ava!” you shouted back, rolling your eyes.

Carmy chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him here or why he’d stayed, but as he leaned against the fence, watching the chaotic mix of personalities on the court, he realized something. For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about work. He wasn’t worrying about what needed to be done, what had gone wrong, or what could go wrong next.

Instead, he was just... here. Watching you light up the court with your unrelenting energy, the way you made even the smallest moments feel big like they mattered. Watching the Abbott crew—imperfect, loud, and utterly ridiculous—made his day feel like the best day of the week so far.

And when the game ended with a triumphant, if not entirely skilful, shot from Melissa, Carmy found himself clapping along with the rest of the crowd, the tension in his chest completely gone.

You jogged over to him, grabbed a water bottle and flopped onto the bench, tilting your head back as you took a long drink.

“You alive?” Carmy called out, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

You lowered the bottle, looking at him breathlessly but grinning, wiping sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Barely, but I’m thriving in spirit. Pretty impressive, right?”

He shook his head, his smirk softening into something closer to a smile. “Impressive isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Rude,” you said, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “But I’ll take it. Cupcake?”

“Sure,” he said, his voice quieter now, but warm.

And as you handed him a cupcake from the snack table, your fingers brushing his for just a second, he felt something unfamiliar—a flicker of ease, of belonging, of something good.

The sun was starting to dip lower, casting a golden hue over the park. Carmy took a bite of the cupcake, savoring the quiet moment. For the first time in a long time, the restless churn inside him had stilled.

And as he stood there, beside you, surrounded by laughter and warmth, he realized that this Sunday, chaotic as it was, might just be the best he’d had in years.

A/N: Heyyyy, thank you so much for the support. I'm on fireee lol. I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you would like to be tagged. <3

Tags:

@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe

@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1

A surprise visit.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x gn!reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), minor exhibitionism, smut, praise, getting caught (minor), use of y/n. Tim calls y/n a brat (affectionately)

Requested Y/N: yes, @annoymus1

Word count: 817

Summary: You come to visit Tim at work on your day off. When Lucy walks in on you giving Tim head under his desk, you decide to test him to see if he'll give it away.

---

“Fuck, y/n,” Tim groaned, threading his hands through your hair. His hips twitched from the effort of not fucking into your mouth.

It was a cramped under Tim's desk, and you were admittedly a bit squashed, but that wasn’t going to stop you from giving him all you had. This honestly hadn’t been your intention when you’d decided to surprise Tim at work, but you’d taken one look at him in his uniform pants and demanded that the two of you spend some one-on-one time in his office.

Hence why you were kneeling under Tim’s desk, your hair just brushing against the wood, with his cock in your mouth. At Tim’s moans, you grinned and looked up through your eyelashes. You pulled back slightly, sucking on only his head. You ran your tongue over his slit, the salty taste of pre-cum meeting your lips. Your tongue traced the vein on the underside of his cock, the one you knew drove him insane, and Tim cursed.

“Stop playing, y/n,” Tim pleaded, watching you carefully tease the head of his cock without truly giving him what he needed. “Please, baby, ‘m dying here.”

If you’d had more time (and more space), you would’ve kept teasing Tim until he snapped and started fucking your mouth, but unfortunately, his lunch break was nearly over, and you had groceries waiting in your car. So, you breathed deeply through your nose and swallowed as much of Tim’s dick as you could. You bobbed your head slightly, suctioning your teeth and Tim moaned.

“That’s it… fuck, y/n,” He praised, manoeuvring your head slightly, “So good for me, just like that.” You preened at the praise, something that was always your weak spot, and took Tim as deeply as you could. Your eyes watered slightly as his cock hit the back of your throat. His hips spasmed, and you knew that if they were anything else, he wouldn’t be holding back.

Knock, knock.

You froze. Looked up at Tim, who was hastily trying to regain control of his breathing.

“Tim? You in there?” The unmistakable voice of Lucy Chen floated through the door.

“Shit,” Tim grumbled, “Yeah, Chen.” He called out. He looked down at you, reaching down to help you remove your mouth from him, but you’d already pulled off and moved closer under the desk. Tim shuffled forward, hiding his leaking cock from sight just as Lucy walked in.

“Sir, I just wanted to see if I could get assigned to Lopez for the rest of the day,” Lucy started. She sounded nervous.

“Why?” Tim asked, his hands twitching at his sides with pent-up energy. You looked up at him, eyes glinting with a challenge. He didn’t see you.

“She’s working that double homicide from Sycamore Square, and I was hoping I could tag along,” Lucy continued. She rambled when she was nervous.

Tim paused for a second. Considering. “That’s fine, Chen. I’ll-,”

You pushed yourself up slightly and dragged your tongue up and around his mushroom head. Tim spluttered, his voice breaking off. He glanced down at your for just a moment, almost unnoticeable, and you winked before swallowing the rest of his shaft.

Lucy frowned, “Tim? Are you… okay?”

“I’m fine, Chen.” Tim’s voice was thick with barely restrained moans. He fisted his hands against his sides, already trying to figure out a way to repay you once Lucy was gone. You didn’t stop, taking Tim deeper. You gagged silently, and you could tell Lucy was scanning Tim assessingly.

“Are you sure, sir?” Lucy prodded, gaze flitting over Tim.

“I said I’m fine, Chen,” Tim snapped a little, but it was less to do with annoyance and more to do with you hollowing your cheeks around him and his rapidly approaching orgasm. “I’ll -fuck – I’ll have Grey assign you to Lopez. You should get going, her break is almost over.” Tim’s breathing was starting to speed up, and you knew he was going to burst soon if you didn’t stop. So, you didn’t.

“Okay. Thank you, sir.” Lucy’s voice was lighter when she spoke this time. Holding back laughter.

You hummed around Tim cock as he said, his voice strained, “Goodbye, Chen.”

You heard footsteps, then a door clicking, and then Tim’s hands were back in your hair and his hips were thrusting lightly.

“You little brat,” He growled, though his voice was filled with affection. “Did you like that, hmm, y/n? Sucking me off with Chen here?” Tim’s voice was heavy, and you knew that whatever he did for payback, you’d feel if for days.

You nodded slightly, eyes a bit watery from Tim moving your head further around him. His cock twitched inside your mouth, and you grinned, dragging your tongue over him. He came with a rough shout, and even as the white liquid hit the back of your throat, you knew this was far from over.

fin.

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