Think Different, Love The Same
Think Different, Love the Same
Requested by @keyera-jackson! I changed a few minor details but I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!activist!reader
Summary: When 20-Squad begins dealing with an activist group, Deacon falls for you, the group's leader.
Warnings: fictional activist group and charter school, mostly fluff, brief mention/depiction of making out
Word Count: 3.9k+ words
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“I’m calling the police!” a man yells in your face.
“Okay,” you answer calmly.
“Who is in charge of this- this collective stupidity?” he demands.
“I am. And our group is called Need to Know; we’re advocating for-“
“You’re advocating for a trip to jail. Get away from my store or I will call the police.”
“All due respect, sir, but this sidewalk is public property, and your store is not endangered by our presence. Civil protests and freedom of speech are not illegal.”
“Yet,” your friend and fellow activist group leader, Luke, mumbles.
“Forget it,” the store manager exclaims as he tosses his arms up. “You morons can’t be reasoned with.”
He storms off, and Luke rolls his eyes. Your group has staged more than six protests this month, and you’ve come to expect threats from people who don’t understand what you’re doing.
“Should we move?” Luke asks. “He may actually call the police.”
You shake your head. “We’re not doing anything wrong, and this library has repeatedly refused people with physical disabilities and cut hours. They make it practically impossible for people to learn anything here.”
“I get it, I do. But if he calls the police and they actually come, what then?”
“You tell me, Luke. The kids who can’t go to a library or find teachers and classes who are willing to create specialized lessons and one-on-one assistance… how do they learn to respond civilly to police officers? If the cops show up, consider it a teaching moment.”
Luke shrugs before yelling to the small crowd of Need to Know protestors to explain that the police may come. You want to demonstrate the importance of common knowledge.
Your group Need to Know is making information available to all, regardless of age, disabilities, learning inefficiencies, or when they have time. Los Angeles is just a hub, a symbol of the growing problem: inaccessibility to information and bias against those who need it most.
“He actually did it,” Luke mumbles when a police car stops by the curb.
“Who’s in charge here?” the first officer asks.
“I am,” you answer. You hand your sign to Luke and approach the officers with a smile. “How can I help you, officers? Is there a problem?”
“We’ve received a complaint that you are trespassing.”
“Aren’t sidewalks public property? We aren’t blocking any foot traffic, only using our voices to advocate.”
“I understand that, ma’am, but… Several store owners have called and are worried that you will move onto their property.”
“I can assure you that we understand the legality and will not trespass onto private property. What can we do to fix this issue?”
“Just-“
“Wait,” the other officer interrupts. “Are your cars parked in that private lot? Because that could be an issue.”
Several Need to Know members nod, and the second cop smiles as he calls for backup.
“I made a purchase at one of the stores this morning, and we have been into the library several times,” you explain. “A library at which we are all members. Can you charge us with trespassing while supporting a city library and local businesses?”
“Pipe down, lady.”
“There’s no reason for that, officer,” Luke interjects, not threatening in any way but firmly defending you.
“What was that?” the officer demands as he steps toward Luke.
“I only ask that you show us the respect we’ve shown you.”
“Need to Know,” the officer reads. “You may want to read just how much we do for this city. Everyone needs to know how to respect police officers, and that it’s our right to defend.”
“Your right?” Luke asks incredulously.
You raise a hand toward Luke to ask him to stop. “Precisely, officer. We’re simply trying to make that access available. Citizens do need to know how to respond to police officers, we agree on that.”
“Thank you for your time,” the first officer interrupts. He gestures for his partner to get back in the cruiser. “Just make sure this protest remains civil. Have a good one.”
“You too, officer. Thank you for all you do.”
Luke rolls his eyes as the police officers drive away. You take your sign back, holding it up and getting comfortable for another few hours of answering questions and accepting donations from generous library-goers.
Less than a few hours later, however, someone sets out to send you home early.
“I thought I told you morons to beat it!” someone yells.
You and Luke turn together, immediately recognizing the store manager who called the police. When he raises a sawed-off shotgun, you are forced to push your group back onto the private property behind you. Several of them run for their cars, but you remain in place as the man raises his phone to his ear.
“Yeah, I called earlier about trespassers. They’re back, and if you don’t deal with them this time, I will,” he says into the receiver.
“Sir,” you begin calmly.
“No! You said you wouldn’t disturb my shop, but nobody wants to come in when there’s a bunch of sickos out front with signs! Panhandle somewhere else!”
You can handle people targeting you personally but get defensive and angry when they bring your cause into their attacks. Luke widens his eyes in a silent warning not to start anything; you think finishing the argument sounds like a better idea anyway.
✯✯✯✯✯
“20-David, we’ve got a trespassing call at a local library,” Hicks calls.
“How do you trespass at a library?” Hondo inquires.
“Apparently there’s a protest going on, and the strip mall on the next lot has some less-than-impressed owners. Manager of a family-owned organic store just called and said he’d deal with them if we don’t.”
“Not exactly a reason for S.W.A.T.”
“No, but the calls from protestors saying that he has a gun and is threatening to kill the people in charge is.”
“Protestors?” Deacon asks. “So, we need riot control and to disarm an outraged citizen?”
“The protest has apparently been civil thus far,” Hicks explains. “But be prepared for everything.”
“Can’t argue with that. Let’s roll!”
✯✯✯✯✯
“How are we sickos for wanting to teach the next generation?” you demand.
“Yeah, well every group like yours thinks they’re doing good, but you’re just making life harder for tax-paying citizens like me!” he yells, waving the gun.
“Man, just put the gun down and we’ll go,” Luke offers.
You see a large police vehicle approaching and are surprised to read ‘L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.’ on the side. Several uniformed men carrying riot shields exit the back door after it stops by the curb.
“L.A.P.D.! Put down the weapon!” Harrelson yells.
Patches displaying their last names are attached to their vests, and you try to read them all as you see them.
“Everybody put your hands where I can see them!” Luca requests.
You, Luke, and the remaining group members set your signs down and lift your hands.
“This is a load of crap,” the manager complains as he sets his gun on the ground.
Harrelson pushes him onto the concrete and cuffs him while Luca and Kay move toward you with the weapons lowered.
“Need to Know,” Luca reads from a discarded sign. “Are you aware that you are on private property? It’s illegal to stage a protest without prior authorization.”
“We were on public property before this guy threatened us with a gun and pushed us back into his parking lot,” you argue.
Kay nods and asks, “Were you asked to leave while being on private property?”
“No. He told us to leave while we were still on the sidewalk, and he called the police, but once he got us back here, he just accused us of panhandling.”
“He’s not pressing charges,” Harrelson alerts. “Mostly because he can’t, but, you know.”
“Alright,” Kay says. You notice that his eyes are on you; yours are on his, too, so it’s not easy to miss. “You’re free to go.”
“Thank you.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“What now?” you ask Luke. “The petitions for newer, safer libraries is going to legislative this week, we’re starting the first literacy course in a month… We have to keep going, but library protests aren’t cutting it anymore, Luke. We have to actually do something. Human rights issues, political issues, everything that people need to know seems to be blocked by the city. The bureaucracy wants to tell part of the truth and make sure the people who need knowledge most don’t learn.”
“That charter school that, what’s her name, Linda? The one that her kids just got pulled out of?” Luke asks.
“Yeah, Home of Hope or whatever. What about it?”
“She pulled her kids out because they refused to work with her son. He’s dyslexic and has some social issues, and they said he was difficult and simply couldn’t learn.”
“Get there, Luke.”
“Patience, grasshopper. That’s the epitome of what we’re fighting against, and the campus backs up to a public park.”
“You want to stage a protest beside a charter school?” you repeat. “I like that.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“What are you reading, Deac?” Street asks.
“It’s the website for the activist group Need to Know,” Deacon answers.
“The protest that we got called out to today. What’s so special about them?”
Deacon shrugs. “Curiosity got the best of me, I wanted to see what they were about.”
“Let me guess! Uh, need to know that cops should be defunded, or, no, need to know that women should or shouldn’t have rights.”
“Both wrong.”
“Men shouldn’t have rights?”
“They’re advocating for accessibility of information. The motto is 'Information for All,' and their mission is teaching people, young, old, disabled, everyone, how to find information they need.”
“What kind of information?”
“Human rights and political issues, financial literacy, home buying… what they need to live successful lives.”
“Impressive.”
Before Deacon can agree, Hondo yells for 20-David to roll. He looks into the situation room and smiles when he sees what Deacon is reading.
“Deac, we gotta go. Your friend over at Need to Know staged another protest, but this one turned violent. Even better, it’s on private property at a charter school,” Hondo says.
“Maybe not so impressive,” Street mumbles as he rushes toward Black Betty.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey!” one of the parents entering the school yells. “Just because you were homeschooled or bullied in private school, doesn’t mean you have to find an issue with every knew school your unpaid taxes help build.”
“Charter schools receive property taxes and state funds from district and state based on enrollment,” Luke explains. “Just like public schools. Those uniforms don’t set your kids apart, and the teachers are still just as lazy and unwilling to ‘deal with’ special needs students.”
“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know I was talking to a charter school expert. Whatever teacher you had a crush on, and she turned you down, just get over it man, there’s better ways to work through your feelings.”
“Luke, don’t,” you whisper.
Luke is just as passionate about your cause as you are, and when he drops his sign, you rush to grab his arm.
“Oh, you want to do this? Let’s go,” the parent says. “But I don’t think you have the knowledge to tell one end from another.”
“Actually, I’m advocating for idiots like you who don’t know what common decency is!” Luke replies.
When the parent runs toward Luke, he rips his arm away from you and throws the first punch.
✯✯✯✯✯
You can feel your heartbeat in your eye when the S.W.A.T. vehicle rolls up. This time, you don't wait for a command to kneel with your hands up as the team rushes toward the growing, fighting crowd with riot shields raised.
“L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.! Everybody on the ground now!” Harrelson yells.
“Luke!” you call.
Luke’s knuckles are busted open, but he’s winning the fight. A fight that never should have started, but maybe it will at least put Need to Know on the map.
“Are you okay?” Kay asks as he approaches you and the small group of still civil protestors around you.
“I’m fine,” you answer shortly. “Pretty tired of seeing cops at what start as peaceful protests, though.”
He lowers his shield and smiles at your feistiness. When Deacon read your bio on the Need to Know website, he could tell you were a fighter and incredibly passionate; he didn't witness what the passion did to your attitude during the last call.
“Let me guess, you tried to break up the fight and one of them accidentally hit you,” he continues.
“Do I need a lawyer?” you ask.
“We’re taking everybody in until we get a handle on what happened here,” Kay answers.
“Then I’d prefer to answer questions after I’ve received my Miranda rights,” you explain. “Officer…”
“Sergeant Kay.”
“If that’s okay with you, Sergeant Kay.”
He licks his lips, as you suspect, to hide his smile before returning to his team to create a plan for getting everyone to the station.
✯✯✯✯✯
“You signed a Miranda waiver,” Sergeant Kay muses as he enters the interview room. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Lots of unexpected things happen,” you reply. “And most people can’t learn about them, if you can imagine.”
He sighs as he sets a folder on the table. Another officer steps inside, and you recognize him as Luca from the first time you saw them.
“Your written statement matches the story everyone else is telling,” Luca says. “So, either you all stopped fighting to talk and got your story straight before we got there, or you are the unluckiest activist group in the world.”
You lightly tap your bruised cheek and flinch before saying, “I think it is the second one. Two peaceful protests resulting in S.W.A.T. visits feels pretty unlucky.”
“Peaceful protests for what?” Deacon asks.
“Read the website.”
“Told you she was feistier today,” Deacon tells Luca.
“She wasn’t like this the first time,” Luca replies.
“She wasn’t in pain and desperate to see a semblance of change before,” you interject. “Look, if you really want to know what we’re fighting for, I am happy to tell you, but it seems to me that you’re just killing time to do something else. Run background checks on everyone involved, if I had to guess. But unless Luke or the guy who started the fight are pressing charges, you have no reason to hold me as anything other than a witness.”
“I would like to know what is worth all of this,” Luca says, offering a kind smile.
You nod. “I’m sorry for snapping, then. Our mission is basically to make sure that people are informed on basic knowledge. That there’s no bias or endless hoops to jump through just to find an answer or help.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Deacon asks.
Something in Sergeant Kay’s demeanor today makes you think he already knows about your mission… and you. More than that, he seems to agree with or support your cause. Maybe that’s why he smiled earlier.
“Open newer, safer libraries, improve hours for more accessibility, remove enrollment caps from schools, create unique and specialized education for people with disabilities or learning disadvantages. Everyone deserves to learn, especially the people who want to but don’t have the accessibility or opportunity to do so.”
“Then I can see why you’d choose a charter school with nothing to lose by turning people away,” Deacon says.
You lean toward him over the desk and bat your eyelashes as you reply, “I’m glad you see my point. Surely a guy like you can see the good that more education can do.”
Deacon’s eyes widen slightly at your brazen flirtatiousness; he suspects you would be hard to get, even if he wanted to do something. Which he thinks he may.
“Maybe you could tell me more then,” Deacon answers, failing to hide his smile.
“I’ll just, uh, give you two some room then,” Luca interjects.
“Actually, if I’m not being charged, I would like to go home now,” you request. Deacon nods and offers a hand; he helps you stand, and you look into his eyes to add, “Alone.”
Deacon watches you leave, and Luca claps his shoulder.
“Falling for an activist group leader is quite literally the last thing I expected from you,” Luca teases.
“Who says I’m falling?” Deacon replies before leaving and ignoring Luca’s laughter.
✯✯✯✯✯
You are having the first peaceful protest in weeks, and when someone threatens to call the police, you can’t refrain from sarcastically responding, “Ask for S.W.A.T. - 20-David.”
When Black Betty pulls up a few minutes later, you smile as Deacon exits the passenger side. He looks around before raising his eyebrows toward you.
“And you thought you weren’t making an impact. Sixteen calls in a week seem like progress,” Deacon commends. “Maybe not the publicity you want, but who better to change the narrative than an activist group?”
“Sixteen calls,” you exaggerate. “Maybe you should just follow us around then, Sarge.”
“While I wouldn’t be completely opposed to that,” Deacon replies, clearly reciprocating your flirting. “I’m sure you know just how much L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T. does in a day.”
“You’re saying all of that is more important than me?” you ask with a pout.
Deacon smiles as he steps back toward the vehicle. You wave as they leave, and Luke laughs at you.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“For what?”
“Getting in that fight. You and Sergeant Kay owe your connection to me.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Deacon rolls the window down and looks at you when he gets called to one of your next meetings. He knows you haven't broken any laws, and you'll comply, so he doesn't even bother to exit his car.
“Can I help you, officer?”
“Depends,” Deacon replies. “Are you free tonight?”
“CUBO,” you reply.
“CUBO? For what?” he asks with a laugh.
“I’m pretty sure asking someone who you see almost daily to accompany you on a date would be considered conduct unbecoming an officer.”
“You’re not a criminal, though. No criminal record, no CUBO.”
“No dinner.”
“If it’s not because of the CUBO, then why not?”
“It’s not you, it’s me, Sarge. Ask me again after we actually make some progress with making education accessible.”
Deacon smiles and shakes his head before pulling away.
“Why are you making him work so hard?” Luke asks.
“I’m not. He doesn’t actually like me, Luke. Just the idea of someone doing some good; he’s a cop and a good person, so he likes that.”
“You think he’s a good person, yet you won’t get dinner with him,” Luke muses. “That should be illegal.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, there’s someone here to see you, Deacon,” Hicks says. “Activist group leader or something. You need anything?”
“No thanks,” Deacon answers as he wonders if it’s you and what you are doing visiting him.
If you are here to see Deacon, he thinks maybe you are finally realizing his feelings are genuine. He likes you, and, as Luca puts it, he’s falling for you, but you seem unconvinced every time he tries to ask you out.
“You asked for me?” Deacon asks as he steps into an interview room.
“I did. I wanted to let you know that Need to Know and the L.A.P.D., after many hours of mediation, have found a solution that benefits us both,” you explain.
“Being?”
“I am taking a step back from Need to Know because it is moving completely online. No more Los Angeles protests from us.”
“You’re backing down?”
“No, we’re just trying a new approach.”
“So, what now?”
“What 'what now,' Sarge? This is the end of me and Need to Know; they have my support but no more black eyes for me.”
“I mean, are you staying in LA?”
“For now, at least. Who knows where I’ll go next, there’s lots of activist groups in the world and surely one of them will need a leader at some point.”
“If you’re so insistent on standing up for the little guy, being a voice for the voiceless, why not become a cop or a special ed teacher? Something a bit more…”
“Tangible?”
“I was going to say hands-on, yeah.”
“Some people just aren’t cut out for that, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you around, Sarge.”
“Wait,” Deacon calls. “Moving the cause to a bigger platform has to count as progress. You said I could ask you to dinner after you made progress.”
“You don’t want me, Sergeant Kay. I’ll leave the do-gooding up to you.”
Deacon, once again, watches you leave. He knows that ‘maybe I’ll see you around’ means you will never see him again, so he has to accept that you are going your separate ways. He met you, though, and that was good.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Drinks are on me, who’s coming?” Hondo yells.
“I’m in!” Luca answers.
“Can’t turn down free anything,” Street adds.
“Deac? We need to get your mind off her, so you’re coming too,” Hondo says.
“Fine. But I’m not doing karaoke with Street again,” Deacon agrees.
“Just because I out-sang you,” Street taunts. “Admit defeat and move on, Deac.”
“Trust me, kid, I’m trying.”
Street shrugs at Luca, both aware that Deacon is no longer talking about karaoke.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Luke, please don’t,” you request as he stands.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises before walking to the hostess stand.
“Deacon Kay!” someone yells across the room.
Your eyes raise immediately, and you accidentally lock eyes with the one man you can’t stop thinking about. Seeing him is a surprise, though not unwelcome. You smile, and he mutters something to Luca before setting his glass down and walking toward you.
“You did say I’d see you around,” Deacon tells you.
“I did. And here you are.”
“You, uh, you want to…”
“Go somewhere a little quieter?” you suggest.
Deacon nods, and you take his hand to lead him outside. You lean against the outside wall and wait for Deacon to speak.
“This is awkward,” Deacon mumbles.
“It could be worse,” you point out.
“How?”
You smile as you lean toward him. Deacon meets you halfway and grabs your waist as he kisses you. In all the moments you have spent thinking of him, you convinced yourself that he was the best man you’ve ever met, and now you are sure of it. More importantly, you believe his advances were genuine, his feelings as real as yours.
The door beside you opens, and you pull away from Deacon when someone gasps. Luke is staring at you with his mouth open, and Deacon’s team appears behind him with similar surprised expressions.
“Do you really like me?” you whisper.
Deacon gestures for Luke to close the door before looking at you.
“I really do,” he replies.
“Good.” You run your finger over his tie as you admit, “Because I really like you, too.”
“So, you’ve made progress, without sacrificing your feistiness, I may add,” Deacon responds. “Now what?”
“I think we try this. Surely there can be more to our relationship than protests and S.W.A.T. calls.”
“I agree.”
You smile, but Deacon kisses you again before you say anything more. Deacon moves you backward and presses you against the wall with his hand between your head and the bricks. Making out with Deacon in an alley was not how you expected this to go but Sergeant Kay is the best thing that has ever happened to you, perhaps even better than Need to Know making the national news.
“Wait,” you pant. Deacon pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you ask, “Is Deacon really your first name?”
“Is that relevant to trying this?” Deacon jokes as he slips his hand into yours.
More Posts from Myfictionalbfs and Others
No Party Like a Costco Party
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!reader
Summary: You enjoy going to Costco, so Tim decides to take you shopping on your birthday. With a little help from your best friend, it turns into a party.
Warnings: just fluff!
Word Count: 1.9k+ words
“Tim!” Lucy calls as he walks into the bullpen.
He stops and watches her as she skips toward him. Even though he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, she continues smiling and bounces when she reaches him.
“What are you doing for my best friend’s birthday?” she asks.
“Nothing,” Tim answers. “I will be doing something for my girlfriend’s birthday, though.”
“Just admit that she likes me more than you.”
“No.”
“Tim,” Lucy groans. She punches his arm playfully, then ignores his offended glare as she asks, “What do you have in mind?”
Tim shrugs and admits, “I’m not sure yet. I was thinking I may just take her to Costco or something.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Wesley interjects.
“Why are you here?” Tim asks as he looks over. “And it’s none of your business, or yours, Lucy.”
“A trip to Costco is not romantic, Tim,” Wesley says. “But I have a client who needs my help. It seems you do, too, but Lucy can handle your girlfriend issues.”
“No one is handling anything!” Tim snaps.
“I’m with Wesley,” Angela comments from her desk.
“It never ends,” Tim sighs.
“She does love Costco,” Lucy agrees. “She’d enjoy going with you.”
“Wait,” Angela says. She chuckles as she looks up at Tim. “Your girlfriend, the shyest person I’ve ever met, likes going to Costco? The busiest store in existence?”
“Is it too late to back out of this conversation?” Tim asks.
“Absolutely,” Angela answers. “So, just a trip to Costco. That’s all the birthday girl gets?”
“I’d like to do more, but-“
“I’ve got it!” Lucy cheers, slapping Tim’s arm again.
“Stop hitting me!” he demands as he steps away from her.
“What if you surprise her at Costco? Like, her friends could ‘run into’ her while shopping, and then someone can have a cake or something at the café. It would be so fun, Tim!” Lucy suggests.
“That’s… it’s not a terrible idea,” Tim murmurs. “I don’t know how she’d feel about interacting with a bunch of people, though.”
“She loves us,” Angela reminds Tim. “Just a quick ‘hey, happy birthday’ and then she moves on. We don’t have to draw attention to her or anything.”
“Fine, yeah, let’s do it,” Tim agrees.
“Yay!” Lucy yells. “I’ll go invite the people she likes.”
Tim watches Lucy run through the bullpen and shakes his head. It’s a good thing you like Costco and Lucy, he thinks, because it’s certainly nothing he would have planned alone.
“What are you doing?” you ask softly.
Tim sets his phone aside and then places his arm back around you. As he pulls you against his side, he sighs.
“Checking to see how many seconds are left until your birthday,” he jokes. “Lucy had a question.”
“Is it going to be terrible?”
“It’s your birthday. It’s going to be great.”
Tim jostles you gently, and when you turn your face against his shoulder, you feel him chuckle. He enjoys making you shy, or simply reminding you of how shy you were when you first met. With your birthday coming up, you know that Tim has something planned. You can only hope that it’s a good surprise. As Tim pulls you closer, you listen to his heartbeat.
“I got Kojo treats at Costco today,” you tell him.
“Of course, you did,” Tim murmurs before he kisses your head.
“Go get ready, birthday girl,” Tim says.
He takes your plate to the kitchen, and you sneak Kojo a bite of your breakfast leftovers. Waking up to Tim making you breakfast was special, but since he told you that he had more planned for your birthday, you’ve grown more curious and more excited.
“To go where?” you ask.
“Shopping.”
You furrow your brows but stand and push your chair in regardless of your confusion. Tim isn’t a big fan of shopping, so you assume this particular shopping trip has to do with what day it is. After you’re dressed and ready, Tim takes your hand and leads you to his truck.
When he pulls into a turn lane, you feel confident you know where he’s taking you. You frequent Costco often; it's fun to browse and kill time in a place where you can disappear and go unnoticed every once in a while. Tim usually teases you for how much you use your Costco card, but he hasn’t made a single sarcastic comment today.
“Are we going to Costco?” you ask excitedly.
“We are,” Tim answers as he turns. “Unless you want to do something else.”
“No, this is great!”
Tim smiles and when he glances at you, you try to control your excitement and watch the road instead of him. You have a mental list of things you’d like to look at, and maybe treat yourself to since it is your birthday after all. Tim extends his hand over the console of his truck, and you happily lay your hand in his. He interlaces his fingers through yours and squeezes twice. The moment he parks, however, your hand is pulled from his as you exit the truck.
You walk through the entrance and take Tim’s hand again as you look at the promotional items in the front of the store. Tim watches you as you read signs and stop to touch an oversized stuffed animal. He knows what’s waiting for you inside, but seeing you so excited was worth the trip, he thinks.
“Well, look who it is.”
You turn quickly and smile when you see Angela. She pulls you into a hug as Tim and Wesley shake hands. They share a look, and you pinch your brows as you step back from Angela.
“Happy birthday,” she tells you. “Has Tim bought you anything yet?” “No,” you answer with a chuckle. “I’m just glad he finally came with me.”
“Tim Bradford saying no? I can’t imagine it.”
You laugh at Angela’s sarcasm, and Tim smiles at how happy you are. You’re always fun to be around, even if you are hiding against him because he made you shy, but birthday joy is a good look on you.
“There’s a sale on rings, Tim,” Wesley says.
Your eyes widen before you drop your gaze to the floor. There has been no discussion of getting engaged or married in your relationship with Tim, but it’s certainly somewhere you can see yourself going.
“It’s her birthday,” Tim chides. “Don’t do that to her.”
“Well, we have to get back to the kids,” Angela interjects. “They’ll riot soon if they don’t get their snacks. Enjoy the rest of your birthday!” “Thanks, Angela.”
You hug her once more and wave at Wesley before Tim lays his hands on your shoulders and steers you toward your favorite section of the store. He keeps a hand on you as you browse, moving when you do. It was a surprise to see someone you know, and on your birthday, no less, but you don’t think too much about the coincidence.
Until someone says, “Happy birthday!” down the aisle from you, at least.
“Hi, Sergeant Grey, Luna,” you greet.
You look toward Tim quickly, but he shrugs and lays his hand across your back.
“Will she ever call me anything other than Sergeant?” Wade asks Tim as Luna hugs you tightly.
“I’ve been trying to get her to call me Sergeant, but she won’t do it,” Tim laments.
“Ignore them,” Luna encourages you. “How’s the birthday going?”
“It’s great,” you answer. “Tim made me breakfast and hasn’t tortured me yet.”
“Yet,” Tim scoffs.
“We just ran into Angela and Wesley, too.”
“Small world,” Wade muses.
“Big city,” you argue, looking toward Tim.
“Do me a favor and buy yourself something amazing for your birthday, and I will see you at lunch next week,” Luna tells you. “Bye, Tim.”
Tim waves as they pass, and you cross your arms to look at him.
“What?” he asks with his brows raised.
“You’re doing something,” you accuse. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I am doing something,” Tim admits. “Loving you.”
You drop your arms and tip your head back, which Tim takes as an opportunity to wrap you in a bear hug. You grip the back of his shirt, somewhere between shy because of the public affection and relieved because you need a hug.
“Alright, let’s go find you something to buy,” Tim declares. “For me to buy for you, I mean.”
“You don’t have to,” you say quietly.
“It’s your birthday, and it’s my boyfriend-ly duty.”
“That’s not a word,” you mumble as he leads you to the next aisle.
You browse several aisles before you see someone else you know, and now you’re convinced that Tim has orchestrated this. After running into at least a dozen people that you know and choosing not one but three things that you like, you and Tim approach the checkout lanes. He pays for your gifts and takes your hand.
As he leads you to the café seating area, you see your best friend, Lucy. Tim grumbles as you release his hand to approach her. You stop short when you see a birthday cake sitting on the table beside her.
“Happy birthday!” she calls as she rounds the table to hug you. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“You did all of this?” you ask, looking between Tim and Lucy.
“It was Tim’s idea, I just helped,” she says.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Don’t get shy yet, you have half of Mid-Wilshire to share that cake with,” Tim replies.
On cue, everyone you’ve run into today approaches the table to give you more birthday wishes and a few gifts. The attention makes you shy, but they’re your friends, and you appreciate them and their kindness more than you can, or would, say.
Lucy passes you a piece of cake and stands beside you as everyone else begins eating.
“Was it really Tim’s idea?” you ask.
“Yeah. He said he was going to bring you to Costco, and I just recommended a cake,” she says. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for the cake; Tim ordered it. Oh! I also have a gift for you in my car, so don’t leave before I give it to you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. We’re best friends, and you are the kindest, most special person I have ever met. If anyone deserves this kind of love on their birthday, it’s you.”
You set your plate down to hug Lucy and only release her when Tim grabs your waist. He laughs when you lean against him but drops his head and whispers to ask if you’re okay. Very early in your relationship, he learned your tells. He knows when you’re overwhelmed, when you’re getting shy enough that he needs to give you a minute, and every other little thing about you.
“I’m great,” you answer. “Thank you for all of this.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
“Seriously, it is,” Wesley adds. “Making you use your Costco card to get into your birthday celebration was certainly… a choice.”
“It’s perfect,” you say. “And all my friends are here.” “Plus these people,” Lucy jokes as she gestures to everyone else.
“You’re just her best friend because you can carry both sides of the conversation, so she never gets shy with you,” Nyla teases.
“And our mutual disdain for Tim’s weird humour,” Lucy adds.
“What’s that?” Tim asks, tipping his head toward you. “You want to leave now? Okay, let’s go.”
You laugh as he tries to pull you away, but you’re enjoying your Costco birthday party too much to leave. When Wade offers to stand on the table and tell all the other customers that it’s your big day, however, you consider taking Tim up on that offer.
Tim Bradford's Princess
Part 3 of Bradford's Princess
Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader
Summary: Being Tim's princess is the best position you've ever held, and the last one you'll ever want. Every little thing he does proves it, even if it means tearing himself apart.
Warnings: the briefest of brief angst, fluff, domestically dominant Tim, makeout sesh, hickeys, Tim offers to ignore a Dodgers game for you
Word Count: 2.7k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules
“Do you like my ring?” Lucy asks.
Tim looks away from the road just long enough to see the simple rose-colored ring on her index finger. He lifts his brows rather than replying.
“You buy any new jewelry recently?” she inquires.
“What are you doing?” he counters.
“Just making conversation.”
“Well, stop.”
“Tim,” she sighs. “We’re in a shop together all day. Give me something.”
“I did. A request for you to stop.”
“Did you propose on Valentine’s Day?”
“No,” Tim answers, more out of surprise at the sudden question than a genuine interest in discussing his personal life. “Not that it’s your business.”
“But you’re going to propose soon, right?” Lucy continues.
“Chen,” Tim says sternly. “Drop it.”
Lucy nods, murmurs something about popping a question, and turns her attention to the radio as dispatch alerts of a nearby carjacking. Tim hits the lights and sirens, attempting to rid his mind of the image of you wearing a ring he put on your finger.
“How’s whipped life treating you?” Aaron inquires as Tim exits the locker room.
Tim stops and turns toward Aaron. He sees Lucy, Nyla, Angela, and Nolan approaching. Sighing, he spreads his arms.
“What is it that you’re all so interested in knowing?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Nyla answers. “Just curious about how everything is going.”
“And that involves using quite possible the least subtle hints about engagement rings?”
“Lucy,” Angela chides.
“How’d you know it was me?” she exclaims. “Nolan could have said something!”
“I’m actually the only one here with a healthy respect for Bradford,” he interjects.
“Well?” Nyla asks, turning back toward Tim. “Are you proposing any time soon? You’re not getting any younger and clearly you’re obsessed with this girl.”
“Which I can’t blame you for,” Angela adds. “It’s nice to see you happy, and if a woman as sweet and beautiful as her wants to be with you despite the age difference, you should do everything you can to keep her close.”
“Whoa,” Aaron says while Nyla grips Angela’s arm, and Lucy’s eyes widen comically.
“You’ve met her?” Nolan questions.
“I ran into them while they were on a date, remember?” Angela replies.
“You didn’t say you met her!” Nyla argues. “Just that you bumped into Tim.”
“I want to see her!” Lucy says.
“Me too,” Aaron agrees. “Tim? You got a picture?”
“Or a free night where we could all get dinner?” Nolan suggests.
“No,” Tim responds.
“You have to give us something,” Nyla says.
“Something about what?” Wade inquires, approaching Tim’s side.
“He won’t show them a picture of the girl who has him wrapped around his finger,” Angela explains, ignoring Tim as he shoots daggers with his gaze.
“I wouldn’t show Aaron, either,” Wade murmurs.
“You’ve seen her too?” Lucy asks.
“Get out of here while you still can,” Wade whispers to Tim. “The rest of you, I’ve got a question about the call in Hancock Park.”
The quiet murmur of the television and soft, glowing candles greet Tim as he walks into his home. He smiles when he sees you on the couch. You look up when the door closes and smile brightly. Tossing your Kindle beside you, you stand on the cushion.
“I missed you,” you say, reaching for Tim’s shoulders.
“You’re going to fall one of these days,” he replies, setting a bag on the floor before he lifts his arms to hold your waist and steady you.
“You won’t let that happen.”
Tim shakes his head in silent admiration of your trust in him.
“I love you,” you say.
“I love you,” he promises.
“How was your day?”
Tim answers you, giving a brief overview of his day. His shoe bumps against the bag, and he stops talking. You always seem more excited to see him than anything he may have with him. He’s come to you with flowers, expensive makeup, concert tickets, and a dress you’d been eyeing for weeks, but you’ve always seen him. That won’t make him stop getting you gifts, though, because every little thing Tim can do for you saves a piece of him, healing from the inside out.
“I have a question,” Tim says, sliding his hands down to your hips.
“I have an answer,” you reply.
Tim waits until you lower onto the back of the couch, sitting with your arms around his shoulders. He pulls the bag up and offers it to you.
The bouquet inside has white roses and baby’s breath, and a blue ribbon circles the trimmed stems. An envelope attached to it bears your name and the Los Angeles Dodgers logo.
“They’re beautiful,” you say.
“I’ve been going to opening day at Dodgers Stadium for years,” Tim explains. His hands run along your sides and down your thighs as he speaks. “I bought tickets: two seats in my usual section. If you wanted to sit somewhere else though, we could. It’s a tradition, and I want you to come with me.”
You remain quiet, watching Tim’s face as you admire his excitement. After dating Tim for as long as you have, it’s no surprise that a moment in the baseball season could mean so much to him, but seeing the joy and anticipation in his eyes makes you happy. Tim has dealt with things you can’t imagine, yet this tradition holds a special place in his life. Now, he’s inviting you into it.
“You don’t have to go,” Tim murmurs. “I don’t even have to go. We can do something else if you want.”
You shake your head adamantly, pressing your hands against Tim’s chest. “You do have to go,” you reply. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t quiet because I don’t want to, you’re just really cute when you’re excited.”
Tim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t let him speak.
“I’d love to go with you,” you answer. “I really appreciate you inviting me to part of your tradition.”
Tim brushes his right hand over the ends of your hair before he cups the back of your head. “You’re part of a lot more than that,” he whispers.
After he parks, Tim hurries around the front of his truck to open your door. His gentlemanly actions and princess treatment of you are nothing new, but you still smile and thank him softly. Tim’s fingers slot comfortably between yours as he leads you into the stadium and to your seats. His preferred section has a great view, and as you sit beside Tim, you briefly wonder how you got so lucky.
“C’mere,” Tim says, tapping your shoulder where his hand rests.
You shift in your seat, and Tim carefully removes your Dodgers hat. Your hair falls onto your neck, and you frown when you realize your hair tie has broken. Tim runs his fingers on the underside of your hair as he pulls it back where it was. You feel another band tighten around it before he carefully pulls your restyled hair through the back of your hat.
“There you go,” he says.
You raise one hand to check it, then smile and take Tim’s hand. “Thank you.”
Tim shakes his head as if it’s no big deal that he just fixed your hair in a stadium full of people. Then, you realize that the black band he wears on his left wrist is gone. He’s offered you hair ties, bobby pins, and lip gloss, but it usually comes from his truck. The fact that Tim carries things you may need is just another in the long list of reasons you love him, and can clearly see he feels the same.
When the game begins, you flip your joined hands so that Tim can stand and cheer as he desires. He pulls your hand off the stadium seat and into his lap, and you realize within a few minutes that you stand with him more often than not. Although Tim treats tonight like a date, it’s his tradition, and you want him to enjoy the night and the game.
“You need anything?” Tim asks after cheering for a good pitch.
Shaking your head, you answer, “We’re here for the World Champs, remember?”
“I think they’d understand,” he replies.
Tim kisses your forehead and takes your hand in his again.
You look up at the blue and white fireworks in awe. Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you lean against him as the night continues.
“You want a picture?” he asks.
You turn toward him, and he gestures to the field, where a large photo of the team is projected as they celebrate their win. Nodding, you open the camera app on your phone and try to get a good angle. Tim removes his arm from your shoulders, bends slightly to circle your hips, and lifts you onto his shoulder. He holds your outfit in place with his free hand as you take the perfect photo. When you’re back on the ground, you put your phone away and smile at Tim.
“Thank you,” you say.
“Any time,” he promises.
When you’re back home, changed out of your jerseys, and preparing to go to bed, Tim traces his finger along your collarbone and then spreads his fingers gently over your throat.
“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs. “For being part of my life.”
“Thank you for letting me,” you reply. “There’s nothing in this world I want more.”
Tim uses his hand, still on your neck, to turn your jaw toward him before he kisses you. As the city continues to celebrate the opening night win, you have much more to celebrate and be thankful for.
The day after opening night, the Dodgers are playing again. This game is different, however, because it’s also the night of the World Series Ring Ceremony. You run your finger along a page while Tim watches the television, pursing your lips as you attempt to understand what you’re reading.
“Do you want help?” Tim asks.
You look up, smile, and shake your head. He nods, then looks back to the TV as he pets Kojo.
“Which color should I use?” you ask.
“Do you have white?” he inquires, leaning to the side to look at the supplies you’ve spread across the table.
“Yes,” you answer. “This one: Marshmallow.”
“I like it.”
The game comes back on, and you thank Tim for his input as you prepare to do the next step. Tim ordered you a nail art kit after you mentioned one in passing, but he found one that was bigger and better. Now, as you spend time together while enjoying different things, you wonder why you didn’t start doing your nails yourself months ago. When Tim’s hands wander to your shoulders, and his warm palms run along your exposed upper back, you decide that no salon will ever compete with this.
“It’s too much,” you say, pouting.
“It’s not,” Tim replies. “You’re the one that said it was the best flavor.”
You stare at the family-sized cheesecake. It is the best flavor the bakery has, but you expected Tim to buy one slice for you to share, two if he thought it looked really good. Not an entire cheesecake.
“How much does that weigh?” you ask.
“Fourteen pounds.”
“Tim!”
Tim chuckles as he lifts the lid. “We don’t have to eat it all tonight. Want your own piece?”
You shake your head vehemently, ignoring Tim’s continued laughter. When you accept a fork and taste the cheesecake, your protests are forgotten.
“Maybe you should’ve gotten two,” you say after offering Tim the last bite.
“Wesley mentioned a dessert tour a while back,” Tim replies. “Would you want to do that sometime?”
“Yeah, that sounds fun.”
You watch Tim’s back as he puts the rest of the cheesecake in the fridge. He dressed up for your date tonight, and you’re convinced he gets more attractive every day. When he turns back to you with his brows raised, you blink to refocus.
“Did you ask me something?” you inquire.
“If you’re free Friday,” Tim answers, looking as if he’s hiding a smile and aware that you are staring at him rather than listening.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” you muse with a sigh.
Tim returns to your side and agrees, “Of course. Have your people let me know.”
Smiling, you tug the bottom of Tim’s shirt. “You are my people.”
“Oh. Should be a short phone call then.”
Tim takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch. Kojo is asleep in his bed, and you laugh as you collapse onto the cushions.
“You look beautiful,” Tim compliments.
“You look handsome,” you reply.
Tim kisses you quickly, then immediately leans in for another longer kiss. He holds your jaw carefully, sliding his fingers into your hair.
“Stunning,” he says, moving to kiss your jaw.
“That’s all you,” you breathe.
“Perfect,” he continues, kissing toward your ear.
“Tim,” you whisper, holding his shoulders.
He pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you smile. As you shift to place your leg over his, you kiss Tim again. He lowers his hands from your face to your waist. When your hands slide down his chest and dip under the hem of his shirt, Tim pulls you closer. His left hand returns to your jaw, his thumb running reverently beneath your cheekbone. You push your hands up his torso until you reach his bare chest. Tim deepens the kiss as you roam, attempting to memorize Tim’s skin through touch alone.
Every kiss with you is memorable, but moments like this, makeout sessions that simply happen and don’t have to lead to anything more, hold a power that Tim will never be able to describe. Your hands on him, your acceptance of his scars – both seen and invisible, and the way you want to be as close as physically possible make Tim fall even deeper in love with you. Tim is your everything, and when you lose yourself in moments like this, being held by the man you love as if he never wants to let you go, everything else fades. You’d spend an eternity in this moment, and that’s part of how you know that Tim Bradford is the one. He’s your forever.
It's unusual for Tim to be home before the sun sets. Today, his shift was changed at the last minute. He was called to the station before 3 a.m. and now has the entire afternoon to spend with you. The early start was worth it, he thinks. Your homemade dinner bakes in the oven as Tim enjoys quality time with you.
“So,” you begin, sitting on the counter. “Last time we made out in here was after your friends called you whipped.”
“Yeah,” he replies, not taking his attention away from his current task.
“Have they said anymore about your treatment of me?”
Tim’s hands tighten around your waist as he stops what he’s doing long enough to say, “My relationships are none of their business.”
You hum, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “But you have relationships with them too… If you’re ashamed of me, just say so,” you joke.
Tim hums against your collarbone. He’d pulled you into a kiss the moment he came through the door, but after you prepared dinner, Tim opted to let you relax while he did the heavy lifting. Hence, the new hickeys. And the work in progress, which Tim reminds you of by running his teeth over the sensitive skin just beneath your collarbone.
“I don’t need to match the bruises you get at work, you know.”
Tim separates himself from your skin and replies, “And you don’t need to meet the people who think I treat you better than them.”
You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, encouraging him to meet your eyes. He sighs as he straightens to look into your eyes.
“I understand the separation,” you begin. “But don’t split yourself into two sides to the point that it hurts. If there’s not room for me and everyone else you care about-”
“Stop,” Tim interrupts softly. “I’ll introduce you when the time is right. I promise.”
You nod, accepting his promise and trusting that he’ll do what’s right. He drops his chin and kisses your jaw. When his second kiss lands open-mouthed, you laugh and pull him up for an actual kiss. He runs his fingers over the darkening mark on your collarbone as his hands rise slowly toward your hair, and you decide that being Bradford’s princess is the best position you could ever hold and the only one you want for the rest of your life.
You Know I Love You
0.5k+ words of you stressing Deacon out by not saying "I love you" back.
“That’s not right,” you murmur. “He didn’t even read her Miranda rights.”
“Are you still watching this show?” Deacon questions, chuckling as he returns from the kitchen with your favorite drink.
“I thought it would get better,” you defend. “It hasn’t.”
“So, you’re going to turn it off now?”
You shrug, and Deacon shakes his head in amusement.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promises.
Deacon places his hand on the back of the couch and leans down to kiss you. As he stands, you click the remote and begin the next episode.
“Don’t,” Deacon warns. “You’ll regret it. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I won’t,” you assure him. “I’m giving it five more minutes. Ten maybe.”
Deacon slides his phone into his pocket and retrieves his keys from the table beside your door.
“I love you,” he says as he opens the door.
“See you when you get back,” you reply.
Deacon pauses in the open doorway and watches you. You’ve never hesitated to tell him how you feel; you said I love you first and kissed him a minute ago, so he knows you aren’t mad at him.
“Want me to bring dinner back?” he asks.
“I was actually thinking we could cook,” you say, turning to face him. “If you want.”
“Sounds good.” With your attention on him, Deacon tries again. “I love you.”
“Be safe.”
“Yeah… Text me if anything comes up, okay?”
You nod, and when Deacon says, “I love you,” again, you smile and turn to sit properly again.
Deacon drops his keys onto the table again and closes the door. He walks around the couch and then drops to sit directly beside you.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course,” you promise. “Just wondering what these writers were thinking.”
“Can I get your full attention for three seconds?” Deacon requests.
You pause the show and smile, leaning toward him as you nod. “I’m all yours,” you say.
“I love you,” Deacon says slowly, intentionally.
“I know.”
Deacon’s brows raise, and his shock is evident. You can’t take it then, laughing as you fall forward into his lap.
“I’m so sorry,” you force through your laughter. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”
Deacon raises your hand to his chest, and your amusement turns to guilt when you feel his heart beating rapidly.
“I’m sorry, Deacon,” you repeat, sitting up and taking his hands. “I love you - you know that.”
“Well, I thought I did, but then I said it a half-dozen times and you just asked about dinner.”
“Dinner with you!” you point out. “It was stupid; I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Say it again,” Deacon requests.
“I love you, Deacon.”
Deacon sighs, kisses your forehead, and then stands.
“Although, after a kiss like that, I shouldn’t have to tell you,” you joke.
“I will be back in a few hours,” Deacon says again, and you can tell he’s fighting not to smile. “And I hope for both of our sakes you are in a better mood.”
“I’m in a great mood when the man I love is here,” you flirt.
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs as he opens the door.
“I’ll see you later with food!” you call. “Love you!”
“I know."
The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : four
A bit of 18 and up, y’all.
You had been living at the manor for about two weeks when Mr. Field arrived outside your room to inform you that Walt would be out for business much of the day, so why didn’t you take advantage to explore his home and grounds? His home was yours now also, after all, so nothing was off limits, not even his private library cum study. You smiled upon hearing that; Viktoria and Lucy were not permitted in that room, but it seemed you were. Maybe you really were his favourite.
Keep reading
Turn the Tide
Requested Here!
Pairing: Lev 'Oz' Ozdil x fem!reader
Summary: Oz is having a bad day, but it only takes a moment for the tide to change.
Warnings: brief angst, fluff and comfort, canon typical stuff such as murder and having conversations in the bathroom
Word Count: 1.8k+ words
High Potential Masterlist | Masterlist Directory | Request Rules/Info
“You alright, Oz?” Karadec asks, looking at Oz in the mirror as he washes his hands.
Oz glances down, scowling at the stall’s door handle. He yanks his belt to the right, and his belt loop slips off the handle.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Best day ever.”
Karadec nods, unconvinced, as he dries his hands. He and Oz are close, but not necessarily ‘share what is making today so rough before lunch’ close. Especially when it comes to the little things. Saving each other’s life? No problem. Talking about relationships? If the situation calls for it. Small talk about the mundane moments that make life miserable? It's not Karadec’s preferred topic – or Oz’s, for that matter.
“Good work on the Yu case,” Karadec says instead.
“Thanks,” Oz replies flatly.
“Morgan brought donuts. Just, uh, take it easy today, Oz.”
Oz nods as he hits his fist against the soap dispenser. He’s usually the upbeat, happy one in the group. But today, when every little thing seems to stand between him and a smile, he needs more than a donut.
“Ozzy!” Daphne calls as he returns from the restroom.
Karadec rotates his desk chair to face Daphne and shakes his head twice. That doesn’t come close to stopping Daphne, though, as she drops her smile and looks at Oz.
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
Karadec closes his eyes and releases a sigh. But Oz gives Daphne a different answer than he’d given Karadec: he shrugs as he drops heavily into his seat.
“Would a donut help?” Daphne inquires softly.
Oz straightens his seat and taps his mouse to wake his computer up. “Not today, Daph. Thanks, though.”
Daphne nods, then taps Oz’s desk three times. It’s a reminder that she’s there. It isn’t enough, she knows, so she picks up her cell phone and excuses herself from the bullpen.
In the hallway, she dials a phone number from memory and waits for someone to answer. The line connects, and she skips her usual friendly greeting to say, “I’m calling in the cavalry.”
“Ullson is here,” Soto announces as she exits her office. “Says she has information about her fiancé’s murder.”
Karadec nods and presses his hands against his knees, preparing to stand.
Soto raises her hand toward him and adds, “She said she’ll only talk to Oz.”
“Why me?” Oz asks. “Sorry,” he murmurs when he realizes how his tone sounded.
Daphne sends Soto a single look, and she immediately understands that Oz is having an off day. For a detective in a high-stress, high-stakes job, he doesn’t have many, so Soto is willing to give him the space to work this one out without consequences. Yet, a woman is waiting to give what could be vital information.
“I’ll talk to her,” Oz agrees.
“Want me to sit in?” Daphne offers.
Oz shakes his head and thanks Daphne anyway, then exits the bullpen. Karadec leans back in his chair, inviting someone else to comment on his friend and partner’s new attitude.
“He’ll be fine,” Daphne assures him.
“He didn’t even accept a donut, Daph,” Karadec points out.
“He will.”
“What does that mean?” Soto inquires.
“I called in a favor.”
Karadec smiles then, and Soto tips her head in understanding.
“Knock, knock!” Morgan calls. “Which doesn’t make any sense when the door is standing open: a universal sign of ‘hey, come on in, even if you weren’t invited!’ Why do people say that?”
“Morgan,” Karadec begins, raising a finger toward her. “Tone it down.”
“Tone myself down?”
“Oz is having a bad- no, a not great day,” Daphne explains.
“Give him a donut, he’ll be fine.”
“He’s a grown man, Morgan,” Karadec argues.
“Who likes donuts.” She raises her hands before her chest and adds, “I’m getting a lot of hostility here. Did I cause his not great day?”
“No,” Soto replies. “But we’re treading lightly for now. Let’s not make it any worse.”
“You guys love him so much,” Morgan muses before she sobers and says, “It’s a little concerning.”
“Why are you here, Morgan?” Karadec asks.
“Oh, right! Ms. Ullson killed her fiancé.”
Oz drops his notepad onto the metal table, and the woman across from him flinches as it thuds. She looks up with a smile and apologizes.
“Ms. Ullson, I’m going to be straight with you,” Oz begins. “It’s been a long morning, and I am not in the mood to run in circles or waste any time.”
“I completely understand,” she answers.
“Alright, then.” He flips to a blank page in his notepad and readies his pen. “What information do you have for me?”
“I think that my future brother-in-law, Derek, killed Jake,” she explains softly.
Oz writes Derek’s name, but he watches his new informant, who has been a suspect since the case landed in their laps. She wipes her face as if crying, but there’s no sign of tears.
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“He was so jealous of his brother, of our relationship. I mean, it makes sense that it was someone close to him, right? Because of the injuries to his face. That wasn’t random, I’d assume.”
Oz sits back in the chair and taps his pen against his other hand. She shouldn't know about those injuries, he remembers.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he agrees. “It indicates a killer who knew Derek, attacked him for a personal reason.”
She nods, then drops her hands toward her lap. Shifting uncomfortably, she moves her right elbow back away from her side.
“Is that the only reason you suspect Derek?” Oz asks. “His jealousy?”
“I mean, I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I’ve seen.”
Oz nods and flips his notepad closed.
“Is that enough to arrest him?”
“Unfortunately, no. Why? Has he made some sort of threat to you?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Oz nods, standing. “Let me pass this on to the rest of my team, and I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, detective.”
Exiting the interview room, Oz waves to the officer who escorted Ms. Ullson into the station.
“Yes, sir?” he asks.
“Did she drive herself; do you know?” Oz inquires.
“No, sir, there’s a man in a BMW waiting outside for her.”
That’s all the information Oz needed. He thanks the officer and then returns to the interview room.
“Jealousy is a powerful motive,” he says. “It falls under love, one of the most common reasons for murder.”
Ms. Ullson nods.
“Just like pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry,” Ms. Ullson murmurs. “I’m not following.”
“It’s too late to play dumb,” Oz snaps. “You’re pregnant, right? By Dexter, I’m guessing, and either you or he wanted Jake out of the picture. So, are you going to take the blame or tell me again that Dexter did it. Officers are waiting for my command to bring him in and book him.”
“I- I- we never…” she stutters.
“Was it you or him, or both of you together?” Oz demands, leaning his hands on the table.
“It was me,” she admits, crying without faking it. “I didn’t love him, not after Dexter. I… I didn’t mean to kill him, though, I just wanted him to leave before I started showing.”
“You attacked him, hoping that he’d break up with you?”
She nods, then wraps her arms around her waist as she begins to sob. Oz shakes his head as he returns to the door, and two officers take his place inside to arrest Ms. Ullson for the murder of her fiancé.
“It’s like a soap opera,” Oz grumbles as he walks toward his desk.
You trace your finger over the ridges of a seashell. The whirlpool design eroded into it is beautiful and holds your attention.
Your attention shifts, however, when someone whispers, “Incoming.”
Standing from the desk chair, you smile. Oz stops in the doorway when he sees you, and you breathe in time with one another. He tosses his notepad onto his desk before he pulls you into his arms.
With Oz’s arms wrapped firmly around you, you smile and circle your arms around his waist as you return the hug. He pushes his hand up your spine to cradle your head, and you whisper against his shirt that you’re here.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling as he pulls back to look at you.
“I was hoping for that,” you answer, brushing your thumb across his cheek beside his pretty smile.
Oz looks over your shoulder and says, “Thanks, Daph.”
“Oh, it was selfish. I don’t like mopey Oz,” she jokes.
“Thank you for coming,” he tells you. “I… thank you.”
“Well, I brought you something,” you say.
You lift the seashell from his desk and pass it to him. He moves one hand from your waist to accept the gift, and his smile widens as he looks at the shell.
“The lines were etched by changing tides,” you explain. “It’s just a little reminder that things change. Bad days can always turn around and make something beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you promise.
“Oh, thank you, Daphne,” Karadec exclaims as he returns from somewhere else in the station.
“You didn’t even try to cheer me up, you don’t get to act relieved,” Oz says.
“I told you to take it easy!” Karadec defends. “I’m just not one to get emotional in the men’s room.”
“That’s true,” Morgan agrees.
“I don’t want to know how you know that,” Oz tells her.
Morgan shrugs, then waves to you. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Oz, but you’re not here for her today. You’re here for Oz.
“Murder was just reported on a sidewalk off Pico,” Soto calls from her office.
“I’ll see you tonight?” you ask Oz.
“Can we-“
“Have a quiet night in?” you finish for him. “Absolutely.”
Oz hugs you once more, presses a kiss to your forehead, then tells you to be safe and text him when you get home safe. He slides the seashell into his desk drawer for safekeeping, then follows Daphne and Karadec out of the station.
“I should give you a badge for that,” Soto muses.
“He’s easy to love,” you say, shrugging.
“Thank you. I’ll get him home to you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Selena.”
“You call her Selena?” Morgan asks as you walk out together.
“You don’t know everything about me, Ms. Gillory.”
Oz’s phone buzzes as he prepares to leave the crime scene. Unlocking it, he smiles just as he had when you hugged him.
“I wonder who that’s from,” Daphne jokes.
Oz doesn’t listen to her or Karadec teasing him; he focuses on the picture you sent him. Your living room has been transformed into a perfect movie night setup, and Oz isn’t sure that today could get any better.
“Tides change,” he explains to Karadec.
“Adultère”
Adultère: French for Adultery.
pairing: Andy Barber x WOC!fem!Reader
Warnings: CHRISTMAS, emily trying to be a good fanfic writer and pretending she knows shit about male underwear, cheating, insecurities but y/n is THAT bitch though, swearing, smut: degradation, andy puts the pussy on a pedestal (as he should), unprotected sex: P in V (zon’t do it. zon’t do it….), light daddy kink + subspace, use of the word “cunt” ihkzlkadj, cheesy happy ending
A/N: THIS IS FOR MY MAIN GIRLY JASMEEN ILY JAS THEE STALLION CAUSE ITS HER BDAY AND IT MOTIVATED ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR ONCE!! ❤️💞🥺 @cloudystevie
For Siri’s @stargazingfangirl18‘s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!
Prompt: Character A is having a sad, lonely holiday when Character B unexpectedly shows up to spend it with them
Since i’m a lazy, incompetant person, this is also for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge! Love u Siri, hope you’ll like this
chile not me giving y’all the bare minimum every two months. listen to Lana Del Rey and wake up your sugar baby instincts for maximum experience. Also, i didnt watch defending jacob cause as much as I love chris and shows in general i’m poor and lazy… And i wrote about boston. LAST TIME. my ny ass had a hard time rbhnkjdik // Also, i’m not that good with christmas stuff like.. I really don’t care that much about the christmas spirit and i’m so sorry cause IK you can feel it throughout the whole fic.
Word count: 4.6k+
Keep reading
Potions
Pairing- Usopp x reader x Zoro
Summery- Based off this ask
Warnings- drinking, sex pollen (kinda ig??), sex while under the influence, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), penetration
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Usopp explored the plethora of booths at the market he got Nami to bring the crew to this specific island for a specific booth. “Ah, here it is!” He spotted the place he had so eagerly sought out.
Although, it was strange he could have sworn the name of the booth he was searching for was Amil’s and not Amel’s but oh well!
Stepping up to the man who stood behind the booth. He greets Usopp. “Ah, good sir! How can I assist you on this fine day?”
“Oh, yes.” Usopp clears his throat, pulling his glasses down covering his eyes as he leans in closer. “You see, I may have heard you have procured a certain strengthening potion.” He tries to sound laid-back, almost tipping over once his arm doesn’t find support on the small booth.
“Oh….” the man's voice trails off as his eyes scanning across his almost empty cart before he sees a random bottle. “This!” He pulls it out eyes trailing over it, he’s been meaning to find someone to take this off his hands.
“And you’re sure this is it?” Usopp eyes the mixture that reminds him of a beer bottle or maybe wine. The red and pink sealant that protected the substance dripped down almost covering the peculiar drawing on the gut of the bottle. Depicting a creature with three heads, one of a goat, one of a human and one of a bull.
The bottle itself definitely didn’t scream potion but never judge a book by its cover y’know.
Salesman's eyes trails down for a sly second before answering, “Yes, of course friend. I would never lie.” Before Usopp could question him any further he quickly gives the price before shoving it into Usopp's hands.
He found the man's behavior odd but didn’t question it as going off to explore the island now that he’s got what he came for, or at least what he thinks.
A few hours later
Walking into the kitchen with Zoro your eyes land on the decorated beer bottle on the table. Usopp sat on the other side, clean glass in hand. He goes to pick it up but you swiftly swipe it up you turn the bottle to its back not caring to look at the label.
“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the cap off the bottle smelling it. A pungent smell hits your senses, nostrils flaring before you hand it off to Zoro, himself smelling it trying to suppress the surprisingly sharp smell.
Usopp debates on whether to tell then he sees you going to take a swig. “A Potion!” He yells reaching for the container. You stop right before the bottle touches your lips, pulling away your cock a brow at the man across the table.
“Potion?” Zoro questions.
“Okay so, a week or so ago I overheard someone talking about a potion so strong it gives you the strength of ten horses, ten horse man! Could you imagine what I could do with the strength of ten horses.” He rambles stopping once he sees the uninterested expressions of the two in front of them. “But it’s rare and could only be found here.” He finishes his rather short explanation you sit the random liquid down.
“And you how this is the exact potion? How?” You ask and Usopp just smiles sheepishly. “Well I mean if it’s not what’s the worst it could do?”
“Uh–I don’t know. Mutate us, shift our bodies. Change out Genders!!” You list out the tame possibilities but Usopp just shrugs as he pulls out two more cups for you and Zoro.
“I mean other than that, what could happen?” Usopp asks, taking the bottle in hand pouring double shots in each cup. The color of the drink was akin to blood and makes you judge their carefree attitude to the strange concoction.
“Zoro what do you think?” You turn to the silent man.
“I mean, I don’t need a strength potion but if it gets me drunk, sure.” Zoro says taking the cup Usopp hands him.
Huffing in annoyance you look down at the cup Usopp offers to you. Rolling your eyes you take it; “Fine, I’ll drink it. But not because both of you are doing it.” You grumble shooting the drink back in one gulp the sappy flavor overcoming your tastebuds.
You all wait for something, anything, to happen. But nothing, no bulging muscles appearing out of thin air, no ghastly mutation. Just a really, really strange taste.
“Well, then let's get this party started.” Usopp sounds disappointed as he pours another drink, this time normal bourbon.
You drink that one rather quickly, wanting to get the strange flavor of the other out of your mouth.
It only takes a few minutes for what you suspect is the ‘potion’ to kick in and it definitely makes you feel something. Your stomach felt queasy all the heat in your body going down.
You look at Usopp, who was already looking at you. You blink a few times, head feeling foggy, “Usopp..” You say stopping mid sentence for some peculiar reason. You want to finish, say ‘are you sure this is a strength potion’ but you can’t focus on anything but Usopp and his lips. When had his lips become so attractive?
“Y/N?” Usopps’ voice was dry making your thigh quiver for a second, Zoro definitely doesn’t miss it watching from the interaction from side taking another sip of bourbon.
You move to sit on your knees in the chair, head tilting to the side, eyes trailing over Usopp, low-lidded eyes, no jacket allowing you to see all of his muscles. With ypur gaurd down, no logical mind to stop think, you grab Usopp by his jaw pulling him into a soft kiss.
His lips felt exactly how you thought they would be, heavenly. The kiss slowly morphed from gentle to hungry. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you closer and guides you to his lap. You pushed deeper into the kiss teasing, testing to see how far he would go. He pulls away from the kiss, both of you gasping for air. His hands gripped your hips, both of you waiting for the other to attack.
You could feel how wet you were, surely your panties were already soaked; at this point you would take anything.
He flips you around sitting you sit in his chair now. His hand moves across the top of your shorts hand dipping inside. Moving your panties to the side slips two fingers teasing your slit before pushing past your folds.
He does a few experimental circles around your clit seeing what made you twitch and twist. “Oh..” you say heat grows through your body like a wildfire taking over a forest. Your legs spread, letting him move deeper, fingers teasing your tight entrance. He pushes inside, quickly opting for two digits he explores your body. Your bodies seemed to be hypersensitive as every touch felt like coals being thrown in a fire. Your hips moved in sync with Usopp's thrust, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
The way your walls pulse around his fingers, Usopp knows you're close.
“Be a good girl and cum,” He whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his slender fingers pumping in and out of you; thumb moving perfectly on your clit. Usopp looks up at Zoro who’s observed the entire situation but has yet to do anything. “If you cum you’ll get Zoros’ cock.” Your walls clench around him. “Oh, poor baby needs some cock.” Zoro mockingly teases, finally speaking once he sees the way your cunt responds at the mention of getting fucked.
And just like that you cum. Body shaking, the air in your throat catches as pure pleasure controls your mind, soul, and body.
Usopp pulls his fingers from you, looking at them they shine with arousal. On a sudden power trip Usopp stands up straight, smirking before shoving his fingers in Zoros’ mouth.
Taken back a bit he eyes Usopp but once your tangy flavor seeps into his mouth he doesn’t mind it, Zoro allows Usopp to have this little ego trip as he cleans you off of his digits.
You wish you could paint this moment, it was beautiful, they were beautiful. Usopp pulls away from Zoros’ warm mouth, fingers whispering against the green haired man’s bottom lip.
Zoro gets up from his seat, not once breaking eye contact with the other male. Usopp gulps once Zoro is at his full height, “Get over there.” Zoro instructs him to stand right next to you.
Allowing Zoro to lay you on the three chairs you once occupied, his lips connect to your neck leaving rough hickeys. Yelping when he hikes your leg up with a deathlike grip your foot hits the bottle knocking it to the ground, the rest of the elixr pouring out.
Zoros’ lips travel down your body, strong hands tearing your shirt down exposing your hardened peaks. He holds them his tongue exploring your chest, his hips moving slowly trying to suffice the need to be in your cunt. You can feel him harden beneath you.
Turning your head back to the spilt bottle your eyes center onto the illustration that covers the label.
You try to place where you’ve seen it before and then it clicks;
Asmodeus. Demon of lust.
Your face twists into a smile as you realize, it was never a strength potion.
You giggle as Zoro rips your bottoms and panties down, tip of his cock slipping and sliding on your soaking pussy. You can’t hold the pornographic cry that falls from your lips once he pushes in, bottoming out in one big thrust.
Zoro kisses you harshly once more if both of you were not under extreme influence you would have thought it gross how both of your saliva gathered as you made love to each others’ mouths.
He pulled away spit string pulling with him. He began to thrust, quickly becoming lost in your tight cavern.
As your body rocked you never lost eye contact with Usopp whose eyes were buglike and his bulging cock sat right in your face.
Moving your hands up you untie Usopps’ slacks letting them fall to the ground the only thing hiding his cock thin briefs. You palmed him biting your lip in anticipation and trying to keep in the moans Zoro seems so adamant to pull out.
He helps you pull his briefs down, his dick springing free. You thrust him in your hand, pre-cum leaking out. Using your thumb swiping over his crown using it as lubricant as you jack him off over your face.
You try to keep up the pace of your hand to Zoros’ thrust but your efforts were in vain making tears well in your eyes, the overwhelming need to please both of them consuming your mind. Opening your mouth you take him in, a raspy sigh leaves Usopp as you hollow your cheeks out, tongue swirling over his tip, egging his hips on to move.
Slowly he does his movements start slowly, his long cock quickly hitting the back of your throat but you take the rest of him.
Your air supply goes tight when he pushes on your throat feeling it wrap around his cock. He slides out letting you suck in as much air with your nostrils as possible before sliding back in. He tries to keep his thrust calm, collected. But it’s just so hard when you feel so good. He fucks your throat hard, almost as hard as Zoro torments your cunt.
Groans falling from the men and the muffled moans that could escape between Usopps’ wild thrust bounce throughout the room.
The coils in your tummy tighten with each thrust from either man. The lightheaded euphoria overtook you, possessing you. Your nerves shock as a volcano inside you erupted. The world went still, your lungs tightened as burning pleasure blasted its way through your body.
Zoro stifled a moan as your pussy spasms around him, he grabs onto Usopp's arm, shoving his face into your neck inhaling your pheromones and with one quick thrust both of them cum. Drinking down the salty liquid that feels your throat your cling to Zoro as he rides his high out.
The men pull out of you both helping to clean you up before all you're left with is silent.
Zoro grabs the bottle that didn’t fall off the table and pours two cups. One for him and one for you.
“Well, that just happened.” Usopp says sitting, shirtless, in his chair.
“Yeah, that did.” You say taking the shot with Zoro.
Defend Myself
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (hockey fan & self-defence teacher)
Summary: During a hockey game, you get into a fight with the drunk man sitting beside you. When Tim Bradford arrives to break up the fight, he decides he'd like to see you again.
Warnings: fight between r and drunk man, unwelcome comments and grabbing (nothing overtly sexual or descriptive), fluff at the end, Tim and Aaron are sarcastic
Word Count: 1.9k+ words
A/N: Why I go back and forth between American and British spellings is a mystery.
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“Alright, ladies,” you call to the self-defence class you’re teaching. “What’s the goal here?”
“Defend ourselves and protect our minds,” they reply.
“Right. Because learning how to fight and keeping yourself physically safe isn’t all that matters. Focusing on what can go wrong in life isn’t any fun, so while we work on self-defence, use it as anger management. Have fun with this!”
Your last class on Friday afternoons is one of your favorites. The women are always excited to learn, they listen well and use good form. Most importantly, they really understand your goal in teaching them. In addition to how great the group before you is, you also get to look forward to hockey after they leave. Whether it’s a game or just to watch practice, you find yourself at the rink most Fridays, and as many other chances as you can get. Hockey and self-defence are two of your favorite things, so afternoons like this are borderline magical.
“Uppercut,” you signal.
As you demonstrate the proper way to move into an uppercut after the warmup, you watch the class.
“Can I ask a question?” a woman in the back row asks between moves.
“Of course,” you reply with a smile.
“Have you ever had to use these moves in real life? Like, to defend yourself?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But that’s why we learn it, right? If we know how we don’t have to live in fear about the when.”
“Which is why we chose the bear,” another girl murmurs.
“Can’t always choose. Preparation is key, and knowing how to react is the most important thing you can learn as a woman.”
“Fighting can be boring though,” someone groans.
“Clearly, you’ve never been to a hockey game. Let’s focus, ladies. Take a breather before we move into strength drills.”
You grab your water bottle from the floor and survey your classroom. Hockey fights are certainly more entertaining than fighting to defend yourself, but you enjoy both.
Los Angeles isn’t necessarily known for its hockey scene, but the arena is packed tonight. Your season pass with the seat on the ice is getting plenty of use this year, and as you sit back to watch warmups, you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.
As the crowd grows and the first period gets nearer, two men take the seats to your right. You nod politely when they greet you, but quickly return your attention to the players preparing to skate out. While the announcer introduces the teams and prepares the fans for a good game, you glance toward the men beside you. The one closest to you seems to already be buzzed, and the oversized cup of beer between his legs doesn’t instill confidence in you. Hopefully, he’ll stay quiet, you think. Cheering for your team is one thing but you know too well how quickly a drunk hockey fan can ruin a night. Anyone who’s been to a hockey game can probably imagine your concern.
You try to ignore him as he gets more talkative, but in the middle of the first period, he drains the remainder of his beer and turns toward you.
“Pretty little thing like you prob’y has some questions,” he says. “I can explain it t’ya.”
“I’m good,” you answer firmly.
“If t’changes,” he slurs as he turns away.
It won’t.
The bell rings and the teams leave the ice as the crowd rises in mass. You stay seated comfortably in your seat as your drunk neighbor leaves with his friend. Since you told him you didn’t need his help, he’s left you alone. As long as that continues, you’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the game, and maybe witness a hat trick from your favourite player.
“Here,” your neighbor says as he returns. “Looked thirsty.”
He shoves a cup of soda toward you, and you push it back. “I don’t want that.”
“Just try’na be nice!”
As he falls back into his seat, you lean toward the side to get some room. His arm moves to the armrest between you as he reaches his fingers toward your leg.
“Don’t touch me,” you tell him as you knock his hand back into his lap.
“Jus’ a pretty lil’ thing,” he murmurs as he leans over the armrest.
“Sir, get him under control,” you say to his friend.
“He’s not my problem,” the other man answers.
“Stop.”
He rolls his eyes as if you’re overreacting and sits back in his seat. Your fists are clenched tightly as you watch him move away from you, and you’re mad that he’s causing you to miss so much of the game and keeping you from enjoying it.
“Los Angeles, make some noise for the third period!” the announcer yells. “We’ve got a tight game and tighter teams. Make it a night to remember, LA.”
“Night to r’mem’ba sounds pre’y good.”
You take a deep breath before you raise your eyes. Somehow, your neighbor got more drunk in the short break between the second and third periods than the rest of the game combined. He reaches toward your arm, and when you pull away, he frowns and steps to stand over you where you sit.
“Leave me alone,” you demand as you stand.
After you put a bit of space between you, you notice that the people sitting behind you are watching you. You don’t care, however, as he throws an empty cup toward you. You move out of the way, and it isn’t until he lunges toward you that you truly react. Your fist makes impact with his jaw before he finishes stepping forward.
“Fight!” someone yells behind you.
You plan to do just that. If he can’t understand no or stop, maybe he’ll understand some of your favourite self-defence moves.
“Reports of assault at Honda Center: fight in progress. Attendees have made numerous reports of disturbance,” dispatch alerts.
“Responding,” Tim replies. “Code 3.”
“Aren’t there supposed to be fights at hockey games?” Aaron asks. “That’s, like, half of the draw.”
“On the ice. Fights off the ice are a regular occurrence,” Tim answers. “Usually drunk rival teams.”
“Easy to break up?”
“Sure. If you think pulling a guy who can’t feel anything off of another guy who doesn’t even remember why he’s trying to kill someone else easy, absolutely.”
“Could’ve just said no,” Aaron mumbles as Tim turns.
“Man, back up!” a security guard demands.
He grabs your attacker’s shoulder and tries to pull him backward, but it doesn’t work. As you prepare to throw another punch, you see that the drunk guy’s eye is black and swelling, his lip is busted, his nose is bleeding, yet he still isn’t quitting.
“Jus’ stop playin’!” the man demands as he grabs for your waist.
You push his wrists away and shove him against the glass dividing you from the ice. He elbows backward, but you block it with your forearm as he yells at you.
“The police are on the way!” someone yells from higher in the seats.
“Get off me!” the man roars as he pushes himself backward.
You manage to catch yourself before he shoves you against the seats. When he raises his hands toward your chest, you raise your right leg into a front kick and momentarily stun him into remaining still.
“Kick his butt, lady!” a man cheers.
“LAPD,” Tim announces as he and Aaron enter the arena. “Where’s the fight?”
“Follow me,” the guard replies.
He leads them into the section where the crowd has gathered to watch the fight. The moment Tim sees the number of people invested in the fight and the suspended timer above the rink, he expects the worst.
“Call for backup, Bradford?” Aaron asks.
“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Tim answers.
“I doubt the guy can go for much longer anyway,” the guard adds. “She knows what she’s doing.”
Tim doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means before he reaches the center of the crowd. He watches you elbow the man under his chin. As Aaron takes a step toward you, Tim extends his arm to stop him. You’re clearly winning, but the guy is too drunk to realize that he can’t keep going. He’ll realize just how badly he lost once the alcohol wears off. A night in lockup would do that nicely, Tim thinks.
The man steps back and prepares to jump at you, but Tim grabs his shoulder from behind and throws him against the glass before he shoves the man to the floor. With his knee pressed into the man’s kidney, Tim secures the handcuffs on his wrists.
“Take him,” Tim tells Aaron.
Aaron nods and yells for the crowd to clear a path. He follows a small group of security guards as he walks back to the shop.
The crowd around you begins to spread out the moment your attacker is ripped away from you. You take a deep breath and nod at the officer who helped you.
“You alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you answer with a smile. “Little tired. Thanks for the assist, Officer Bradford.”
Tim watches your eyes rise back to his face after reading his name tag. He smiles at you just before the buzzer over your head rings as the game resumes.
“You wanna stay?” he asks over the sound of skates and cheers.
You shake your head and follow him to the staircase. Once you’re in the main area of Honda Center and the noise of the game is muffled, Tim turns toward you.
“That was impressive,” he applauds. “I’ve been called to more fights than I can count. Never seen one under control like you had it. You, uh, you clearly won.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to commend me for getting into a fight, officer,” you tease.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks.
“I teach a self-defence class for women,” you explain. “Been fighting for a while but honed my skills for safety more than entertainment.”
“Then they were wrong.” At your confused look, Tim clarifies, “911 dispatcher said there was a fight. You were just defending yourself.”
“He was drunk and didn’t understand when I told him to stop.”
“Which I am allowed to commend you for.”
You smile at Tim again, and he decides that he needs to see you again. More than being impressed by the thorough beating you delivered to the man who was harassing you and trying to touch you, Tim finds you incredibly beautiful, and he knows you’re talented and care about others. He doesn’t want this to be a one-time encounter.
“Have you ever considered hosting a class for the police department?” he asks, looking for a way to ensure he can talk to you again soon. “We bring in instructors from the city occasionally to host free classes. You’d receive compensation, of course.”
“I haven’t, but it does sound nice. If more women knew how to defend themselves, it might make your job easier.”
Tim agrees as he hands you his card. “Call the station in the morning and we can work something out. If you need a teacher’s assistant or anything, I’d be happy to help, too.”
You tap his card against your thigh as you say, “I’d like that.”
“Bradford!” his partner, Thorsen – you feel like you should recognize the name but don’t – calls. “We got another call.”
“Sorry,” Tim tells you. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the station soon.”
“I think you will.” When you smile at him this time, Tim feels like you punched him, too.
Strong Enough
0.8k+ fluffy words of Karadec getting fed up and proving you wrong. (it's not a prank blurb but it is a from a trend so I'm tagging it the same!)
The Major Crimes unit is silent. It’s disturbing and unsettling, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat while waiting for someone to make a noise.
“Is Soto back?” Oz whispers.
Daphne shakes her head no, then taps her mouse to check if the computers are back up. “We’re still dark,” she replies softly. “So… what’s the worst date you’ve been on recently?”
You don’t have to see Karadec to know he’s rolling his eyes. Still, you smile at the distraction and move closer to Oz and Daphne’s back-to-back desks.
“I haven’t been on one in a while,” Oz says. “But a few months back, she asked me to get her an Uber to her backup date.”
“Oh, no,” Daphne exclaims with a laugh.
“That’s awful,” you agree. “She didn’t have to tell you where she was going.”
“No, she really felt like she needed to,” he explains. “What about you, Daph?”
“Went on a second date with a guy and he asked what kind of wine I wanted and then ordered something completely different.”
“Don’t tell me he pulled the I’m paying and I’m sure you’ll like it,” you ask, pinching your brows sympathetically.
“Better. He told me that my palette wasn’t refined and offered to help with that.”
“Gross,” you and Oz respond simultaneously.
“I went on a date last week, and he offered me his jacket,” you offer.
“That’s sweet,” Oz argues.
“It didn’t fit, so he asked if I was working to lose any weight so I could wear his clothes if things got serious.”
Daphne’s jaw drops as her brows rise, and Oz shakes his head.
“Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever dated a guy whose clothes I could wear. Let alone one who could lift me or anything. I’m not sure they exist in my circle.”
Karadec scoffs, and you turn in your seat to look at him.
“What?” you inquire.
“Nothing, just working,” he answers, opening a file.
“Sure. What’s the worst date you’ve been on?”
“Nothing as bad as this moment.”
“Someone’s grumpy,” you stage-whisper over your shoulder to Daphne.
“You work with cops, there’s fifteen gyms within a mile radius,” Karadec explains, “so you must be choosing the wrong men.”
“Okay, one, the cops I actually work with day-to-day are mostly desk jockeys. No offense, Oz.”
“None taken,” he interjects.
“And two, Karadec, I’m not going to go hang out beside a gym to get some testosterone-fueled meathead just because he can pick me up. I’m saying realistically, naturally, in everyday life, I don’t know anyone who could just romantically manhandle me for the sake of it.”
“Romantically manhandle?” Morgan repeats, incredulous, as she enters the bullpen. “What am I interrupting?”
“Detective over here thinks there are no men in Los Angeles who could lift her onto their shoulder,” Karadec explains flatly.
“Ooh, like the video?” Morgan inquires, pulling a chair to your side. “Ava has shown me a few, they’re cute. Not so much when the scrawny-armed boys don’t succeed, but still.”
“We’re not going to get any work done today, are we?” Karadec inquires.
“Not with Soto busy and the system down,” Daphne reminds him. “So, try to let loose for a few minutes, would you?”
“You really don’t know anyone who could do it?” Morgan asks.
“Nope,” you answer. “Not for lack of trying, contrary to what Karadec will tell you.”
“Tell her about the jacket guy,” Oz encourages.
Karadec stands and gestures for you to do the same.
“Fine, we’ll change the subject,” you sigh.
“Stand up,” he demands.
Morgan moves her seat back as you stand, and Karadec steps closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, bends slightly, and then your feet are off the floor. You clutch his wrist at your side as he effortlessly lifts you onto his shoulder. From the elevated position, you look down at him with wide eyes.
Carefully, Karadec lowers you back to the floor and removes his hand from your side. He raises his hands to his sides and asks, “Happy now?”
Before you can answer him, Lieutenant Soto returns.
“Are workplace crushes frowned upon?” you ask her.
“Shut up,” Karadec grumbles as he returns to his desk and retrieves hand sanitizer from his drawer.
“What did I miss?” Soto asks, looking between you and Karadec.
“Oh, we can’t explain what just happened,” Oz muses.
“Luckily, I filmed it,” Daphne announces, raising her phone.
“You did not,” Karadec snaps, spinning to face her.
“She did!” Morgan answers, smiling brightly, as she watches the screen over Daphne’s shoulder. “And right… there is the moment she falls in love.”
Karadec shakes his head, and you murmur, “I was kidding. I know it doesn’t mean anything.”
He tips his head to the left, then nods and reboots his computer. “Of course not,” he replies, though it’s the least convincing you’ve ever heard him sound.
Party Favors, Bribes, and Sharks
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!(goth!)fem!reader
Summary: When Tim finally invites you to meet his friends, it takes more than party favors and promises to convince you to go.
Warnings: fluff, brief depiction of anxiety/nervousness, teasing
Word Count: 2.0k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info
“What are you wearing?” Tim asks, frozen in the open doorway.
“A shark,” you answer softly. “It’s a hammerhead.”
Tim presses his tongue against his cheek and nods. He’s seen you in nearly every outfit imaginable over the last year, except for bright colors… or, as it seems, sharks.
“I didn’t know your fascination had extended to clothing,” he mumbles as he finally closes the door.
“It’s a hooded blanket,” you explain. “And it was on sale.”
Tim nods again, unable to take you seriously with the plush hammerhead pulled over your hair or the patterned sleeves your arms are in. He drops his bag and sighs as he sits beside you. It’s been nearly a week since you saw him. As you offer him one side of your shark blanket, he smiles.
“We solved the case,” he says, laying your blanket over one of his legs.
“I knew you would,” you murmur, looking at his neck rather than his face.
“And we decided to have a little get-together to celebrate.”
You hum, straightening the edge of the blanket along Tim’s thigh.
“You should come,” he adds, placing his hand atop yours.
Frozen, you pinch your brows and consider what he said. You’ve been dating for about a year but haven’t met any of his friends or coworkers yet. For good reason, you think.
“Funny,” you whisper, looking away from Tim.
“I’m serious,” Tim assures. “I’m inviting you to the… Lucy’s calling it a party. You can meet everyone.”
You look at the television screen, the rainy night ambiance video threatening to weaken your resolve. “Tim,” you begin. “I’d rather eat my own eyes."
Tim tips his head back and laughs, not at you or your shyness, but at your graphic response. You’re all things darkness, but Tim knows the softness and shyness lying underneath.
“C’mon, you have to come with me.”
“No, I don’t.”
Tim sighs before he turns toward you and places his hands on your sides. “If you come with me, I’ll get you fresh strawberries from that farmer’s market in Santa Monica you love so much.”
Your eyes widen at the idea. Those strawberries are the best things you’ve ever had. Unconsciously, your hand raises to your neck, and you toy with the strawberry charm tucked beneath your other jewelry.
“We can go this weekend and buy as many as you want,” Tim continues. “Maybe even eat some on the beach.”
“I… Tim, I can’t just go,” you argue softly.
“Yes, you can. Listen, I promise that everything will be completely fine. This isn’t a huge thing, it’s casual, you can be yourself.”
You scoff and look down at Tim’s arms.
“I’m serious,” he says firmly. “They’re going to love you. So, if you’re just nervous about them not liking you, that’s not enough of a reason to say no.”
You purse your lips to think. It’s not fair that Tim knows you so well or is willing to use your love of strawberries against you.
“Fine,” you whisper. “But if it doesn’t go well, I stand by my eye-eating comment.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
The day of Mid-Wilshire’s celebratory party, you’re a mess. From the moment you wake up, you’re stressing about every little thing and growing more nervous. You peruse your closet, then turn to Pinterest for outfit ideas, but you keep questioning what Tim meant when he said casual. His casual and your casual are very different, and you don’t want to wear the wrong thing and make the night even more nerve-wracking or awkward than you’re sure it will already be.
“Breathe,” you remind yourself.
You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exit your room. After a break in which you have a snack, watch a short shark documentary, and wave to your neighbor’s cat out the window, you return to your closet. This time, the outfit seems to jump out at you.
As you lay a pair of baggy jeans on your bed, the rest of the look falls together effortlessly. You choose a black sweater with a skeleton made of stars, black Converse with colorful jewels on the laces, and your daily rings and necklaces. The strawberry charm Tim got you on one of your first dates gets lost among the dark, gothic jewelry, but you know it’s there.
With an outfit picked, your heart rate slows, and your nervousness eases slightly. There’s plenty you could be concerned about, but your question will be answered soon enough.
“Worst case scenario,” you murmur as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “They hate me, and Tim leaves me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Tim says, suddenly behind you. You turn quickly, and he pulls you into a hug. “You’re perfect, and everything is going to be fine.”
“You can’t know that,” you complain against his arm.
“I brought you something to help convince you.” Tim steps back and pulls his backpack off the floor. “I’ve been holding onto this for a special occasion, and this seems like a good time.”
You watch as Tim pulls a stuffed animal out of his bag. You want to make a joke, but then you see what it is. The shark plushy is colored like a strawberry; it combines your two favorite things in the world. Things that Tim knows make you melt. Your shyness and worry are forgotten as you hug the strawberry shark to your chest.
“This is like Halloween!” you cheer.
“You mean Christmas?” Tim counters.
“I mean my favorite day of the year.”
Tim nods, kisses your forehead, then steps around you to get ready. As you wait with your shark, you allow yourself to be distracted. When Tim returns a few minutes later, you reluctantly set the stuffed animal on your bed and pat its back.
“Thank you,” you tell Tim. “I love him.”
“Is that why he’s in my spot?” Tim inquires with a knowing smile.
You smile and look down, clasping your hands together behind your back. Until you get to the party, you won’t know what to expect. You’ve heard Tim talk about everyone in attendance, but that’s different than meeting them, seeing them face-to-face, and allowing them to judge you. These people mean something to Tim; they’re his family, and if they don’t like you, there might be a risk of losing him.
“Are you ready to go?” Tim asks, offering his hand.
“Is it down to that or eating my eyes?” you question.
“Yes, and I happen to like your eyes.”
You grumble under your breath and take Tim’s hand. He leads you to his truck and whispers that everything will be fine. You try to believe him.
Halfway through the drive, your leg bounces so hard that the entire seat shakes. Tim turns, then places his hand on your knee, brushing his thumb over your leg. He has seen you nervous, but never like this.
“You’re fine,” he promises.
“What if they-“
“They’re going to love you.”
“But I don’t want to-“
“We’re here.”
You look up from Tim’s hand and sink in your seat. He squeezes your knee gently, opens his door, and rounds the truck to help you get out.
“Tim,” you whisper.
“I got you,” he promises, smiling despite your obvious concern. “Trust me, and then we’ll go get strawberries.”
“I like my rocks better than you,” you complain quietly, sliding out of the truck.
“Remind me who found your favourite rock.”
You huff, unwilling to acknowledge that the rock that looks like it’s covered in raindrops is your favourite or that Tim found it in your backyard. He takes your hand and leads you to the door. When you step behind him, Tim allows you to pull his hand with you, reaching behind his back to comfort you. Although, he knows you won’t need a buffer.
“Tim! You made it!” a woman cheers as the door opens. She gasps and drops her voice to add, “And you finally brought her!”
Tim lifts the hand not trapped in yours toward her, and you assume he motions for her to take it easy on you. Your eyes are on his back muscles, visible through his shirt, rather than anything or anyone around you.
“I was beginning to question if I’d see a night off,” another voice says.
“Tell me about it! Especially when Oscar called.”
Everyone groans, and you look up, still hidden behind Tim but able to see some people in the room. They’re dressed casually, you notice, and one of them is wearing an outfit similar to yours, minus the skeleton design.
“What?” Tim asks.
“Nothing, nothing,” the woman who opened the door answers.
You step to the left and raise your chin, accidentally locking eyes with her. She smiles but doesn’t move toward you or speak. You appreciate it and return her smile.
“Thanks for letting me come,” you say before introducing yourself.
After you say thanks, she moves to your side and pulls you away from Tim. Away from him and the others, she directs you to sit with her.
“I’m Angela, and I’ve been waiting so long to meet you. When Tim slipped and told me he had a girlfriend, I, well, I didn’t believe him at first, but I’ve never seen him like this,” she explains. “He’s been so happy with you! He refused to show me pictures, but you’re even prettier than I expected.”
“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Sorry, I’m not great at, uh, anything interpersonal.”
“Then you’re perfect for Tim.”
You laugh at her friendly teasing and are surprised when you fall into a short but easy conversation with her about how you met Tim.
“Give her some room, Lopez,” Tim calls from the doorway.
“It’s okay,” you tell him.
“Yeah, Timothy,” Angela replies. “It’s okay. It won’t be once she meets Nolan and Lucy, but I’m her new best friend, so you need to watch your back, Bradford.”
Tim rolls his eyes as he nods. He waves for you and Angela to join the others when you’re ready, then retreats around the corner again.
“I’m still nervous,” you admit to Angela.
“Well, now you have me. Just remember these two things: one, Nolan never shuts up, but he doesn’t actually say much.” She pauses as you chuckle, then raises another finger to add, “And we all tease each other, but there’s nothing except respect and care between us. You’re going to fit right in, I promise.”
“As my best friend?”
Angela loops her arm through yours after you stand and replies, “You understand already.”
You sit between Tim and Angela at the table, and less than ten seconds after she joins you, Tim's friends begin asking questions.
“Guys,” Angela interrupts. “Okay, this is Lucy, Nolan, Wade, Nyla, her husband James, and my fantastic husband, Wesley.”
“Why did he get a fantastic husband?” James challenges.
“You heard me.”
“Okay, how did you meet Tim?” Lucy inquires.
“We just ran into each other,” you answer nervously.
“Did he ask you out?” Nolan adds.
You nod, and they continue taking turns to better understand your relationship with Tim. A few minutes into the conversation, your answers are louder and contain more words.
“What’s your favorite animal?” Wade asks in the first lapse of silence.
“Sharks,” you and Tim answer together.
“Tim!” Lucy exclaims, clapping her hands together.
You laugh and realize at that moment that Tim was right. His friends are chill, open, and seem to like you.
“I don’t get why you’re with Tim,” Nyla tells you on the way out, “but I’m glad you came tonight.”
“Me too,” you answer. “I’ll see you around.”
“Count on it!” James calls.
Tim helps you into the truck and then reaches into the backseat. He passes you the new strawberry shark, and you clutch it tightly.
“Your friends are great,” you tell him.
“I tried to tell you,” he responds lightly. “And they’re your friends now, too.”
“I like that.”
Tim nods and murmurs, “You didn’t like it before I agreed to get you strawberries and watch Halloween movies.”
“We’re watching Halloween movies, too?!”
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