Tim Bradford's Princess

A vox machina oneshot

Vax x reader.

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

Enjoy! 😘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At what cost?” You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Cook and The Teacher!

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

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

Carmy stood in the dimly lit laundry room, hands on his hips as he glared at the washing machine like it had personally wronged him. The display panel flashed erratically, like it was trying to send an SOS in Morse code, while a faint but concerning smell of burning plastic wafted through the air.

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. All he wanted was to wash his clothes—just one normal task in a sea of chaos. Apparently, even that was asking too much.

With a frustrated sigh, he muttered curses under his breath and gave the machine a half-hearted nudge with his foot, as if that might magically revive it. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. The machine remained defiantly lifeless.

“Wow. Bold strategy. Were you planning to wrestle it next?”

The voice startled him. He turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, holding a laundry basket overflowing with brightly colored clothes. You were dressed in the epitome of Saturday comfort: an oversized t-shirt with a graphic that read 'Physics: It’s Not Rocket Science... Oh, Wait, Yes It Is,' paired with baggy sweatpants and ridiculously fluffy, colorful monster feet slippers. Your hair was slightly messy like you’d just rolled out of bed—or perhaps fought the laundry demons he was now dealing with.

Your lips curved into a teasing smile as you tilted your head. “I’m impressed. I didn’t know machines responded to passive-aggressive foot taps.”

Carmy let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t have a better idea.”

“Well,” you said, stepping into the room and setting your basket down on the counter, “I hate to break it to you, but this thing looks like it’s plotting your demise. What’s the issue? Won’t open?”

“It stopped mid-cycle,” he explained, gesturing toward the uncooperative machine. “Clothes are stuck. It’s probably fried.”

“Oof. Smells like defeat and polyester.” You crouched down to inspect the machine, tilting your head like a mechanic sizing up a stubborn engine. “Looks like it’s giving you the silent treatment. Did you try apologizing? Promising to separate your whites and darks next time?”

“Funny,” Carmy deadpanned, though the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

You straightened up, planting your hands on your hips in a stance that could only be described as authoritative. “Well, lucky for you, Carmy-next-door, I happen to be an expert in broken things.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah? How’s that?”

You let out a playful scoff, crouching in front of the washing machine as if it were a patient in need of your expertise. “When you work in a place that runs on shoestring budgets and prayers, you pick up a thing or two about fixing stuff. I’ve practically got a minor in MacGyver-ing. It’s part of my many talents.”

He smirked, watching as you pressed a few buttons and tapped the side of the machine like you were coaxing it back to life. “Sounds like a tough gig.”

“Oh, it’s a blast,” you replied sarcastically with a grin, peering at the machine’s latch. “But the real fun is my lovely fourth graders and their… slippery fingers. Nothing keeps you on your toes like finding out your class stapler’s been dismantled to ‘see how it works.’”

“And you adore them,” Carmy guessed, his voice soft but sure.

“Ugh, to a fault,” you admitted, sitting back on your heels to glance at him. “They’re chaos in human form, but they’re my chaos. Like when Marcus decided to see if he could use glitter glue as a bookmark. Spoiler alert: he couldn’t. And then there was Kayla’s science project that involved exactly zero science but a lot of snacks. Kids are wild, but they’re kind of the best.”

Carmy chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

You huff a laugh nodding. “But they make all the broken stuff worth it... also, they’ve prepared me for moments like this. Fixing things? I’m a pro. Diffusing meltdowns? Also a pro. Dodging paper balls? Let’s just say my reflexes are unmatched.”

He chuckled quietly, his blue eyes softening as he observed your easy confidence. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Oh, hardly,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh.

He watched as you tinkered with the inner workings of the washer, the way your monster-footed slippers stuck out behind you, and the light in your eyes as you spoke about your students. There was something captivating about the way you moved—confident but never overbearing, your words spilling out in an endless stream of humor and warmth. For someone who probably dealt with endless chaos in your day-to-day life, you had an energy about you—warmth—messy and vibrant—that felt oddly grounding in his otherwise muted world.

Finally, with a triumphant click, the washer’s door popped open. A puff of warm, damp air escaped, carrying with it the faint scent of detergent. You rocked back on your heels, grinning up at him as if you’d just disarmed a bomb.

“And there you have it!” you declared standing up, sweeping your arm dramatically toward the liberated laundry like a game show host revealing a grand prize. “Your clothes are finally free, Chef Carmy. Laundry liberation, courtesy of yours truly. I accept gratitude in the form of snacks, coffee, or eternal admiration—your choice. But please, no autographs. I have to stay humble.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” Carmy said, huffing a quiet laugh as he shook his head, stepping forward to start transferring the damp clothes into another machine. His tone softened slightly as he added, “But thanks, really. I owe you one.”

You waved a hand dismissively, already moving to the next machine with your own basket in tow.

“Don’t worry about it, Carmy…” you said, your tone casual, though the smirk playing on your lips suggested otherwise. “But, if you do feel like you want to repay me, feel free to bring me more of those leftovers—like the ones you brought when I first moved in.”

He paused, eyebrows raising slightly as he met your gaze. “That’s what you want? Leftovers?”

“Not just any leftovers,” you clarified, turning back to load more clothes. “The fancy ones. Braised short ribs, perfectly roasted vegetables... whatever culinary magic you’re whipping up in that kitchen of yours. Don’t think I forgot.”

Carmy paused mid-transfer, glancing at you with a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “You liked those, huh?”

“Liked?” you scoffed, tossing a pair of socks into the machine. “I was ready to write you a thank-you sonnet. That braised short rib? Poetry in food form. You’ve ruined me for takeout forever.”

He chuckled softly, shutting the door to his machine. “It was just a test recipe.”

“Well, then I’d be happy to test more of your recipes,” you said with a wink, starting your own machine and leaning back against it. “Strictly as a favor, of course. I’m nothing if not generous.”

“Generous,” he repeated, shaking his head with a smirk as he pressed the start button on his machine. He glanced at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“See?” you teased, flashing him a grin. “You’re already getting the hang of this whole neighborly exchange thing. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my expectations high.”

Carmy shook his head, letting out another quiet laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you quipped, settling yourself into the nearby chair and grabbing a book from the empty laundry basket at your feet. You opened it casually, like you weren’t fully aware of the fact that his attention was still on you. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Chef Carmy. I’ve got standards now.”

Carmy smirked faintly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the counter, arms loosely crossed. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended, watching as you flipped through the book, completely at ease. The light in the room, though dim and slightly yellowed, softened your features, making you look... warm. Pretty, even. The oversized t-shirt, the messy hair, and those ridiculous monster slippers didn’t detract from it—in fact, they only made you more endearing. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Instead, he tucked the thought neatly into the back of his mind, letting it sit there quietly.

The faint hum of the working washing machine filled the space, stretching the silence between you into something that felt oddly comfortable. He wasn’t used to that—not in conversations, not in moments like these. Usually, silence felt heavy, awkward, something to be broken. But this? This felt... different.

Still, the need to say something eventually won out, despite his lack of finesse with small talk. Clearing his throat softly, Carmy shifted his weight and finally asked, “So... uh, how are you liking it here?”

You glanced up from your book, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “In the building? Or in the laundry room?”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes again. “The biulding, I guess."

“Oh, it’s not bad,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “The walls are a little thin—I may or may not know the entire plot of the soap opera your upstairs neighbor is binging—but they are decent. A little quiet, though, except for one guy who keeps kicking appliances. Total menace.”

“Sounds rough,” Carmy deadpanned, though his smirk gave him away.

“It is,” you said with mock solemnity before your smile softened. “But honestly? I like it. It’s... cozy, you know? Feels like a place where things can settle down.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly to the floor. “That’s good.”

“It’s growing on me,” you admitted, closing the book and resting it on your lap. “I mean, it’s not every day you move into a building and immediately make friends with someone who’s probably going to be on the cover of Some Fancy Chef Magazine someday.”

“Friends?” he said, arching a brow.

“Yeah, friends,” you replied with a teasing grin. “Or at least laundry room acquaintances.”

He shook his head, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine. “Friend's better.”

"Good," You smiled, shifting slightly in your chair. “So, Carmy-next-door, aside from working and battling possessed washing machines, what do you do for fun?”

“For fun?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as though you’d just asked him to name every spice in his kitchen alphabetically. “Uh... I don’t know. Not sure I’ve got much time for that.”

“Not buying it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Everyone’s got something. Come on, spill. What’s your guilty pleasure? Do you secretly knit in your downtime? Binge-watch trashy reality TV? Start a garden but refuse to tell anyone because it ruins your ‘serious chef’ vibe? And if you are, I know someone who could be your new best friend.”

He let out another quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “None of those, but now I’m thinking I should start knitting just to throw people off.”

“Do it,” you said, pointing at him. “Then you can make me a scarf. But seriously, what’s your thing? There’s gotta be something.”

Carmy hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “I guess... sometimes I’ll just walk around the city. Clears my head, you know?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “That’s a solid choice. City walks are like people-watching with a side of fresh air. What’s your favorite spot?”

“There's this park near the river. Quiet, not too crowded. Good place to think." Carmy tells her.

"Sounds nice," you replied, smiling. "I might have to check it out sometime."

"You should," Carmy said, his expression softening. He clears his throat, "I-uh, I used to draw, though. Sketch stuff when I had the time.”

“Used to?” you asked, leaning forward a bit, intrigued. “You mean you don’t anymore? Or are you just too modest to admit you’ve got sketchbooks hidden under your bed?”

His smirk faltered into something a little more genuine, a touch of shyness creeping into his expression. “I still do. Sometimes. When things aren’t too crazy.”

“Now that’s interesting,” you said, sitting back with a thoughtful smile. “What kind of stuff do you draw? People? Landscapes? Elaborate food masterpieces?”

“A little of everything,” he said with a small shrug. “But mostly recipes, or at least how I want them to look."

“Like a visual diary,” you said, nodding. “That’s actually really cool.”

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing big.”

“Carmy,” you said, tilting your head at him. “You just admitted to having an actual hobby, and I’m here for it. Don’t downplay it.”

He huffed, shaking his head flushing ever so slightly. “Alright. What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Me?” you repeated, your eyes lighting up as you sat back in the chair, clutching your book like a prop in a comedy routine. “Well, let’s see. I’m a professional daydreamer, certified in overthinking, and an expert-level snack enthusiast. It’s an impressive resume, I know.”

Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth twitching into a rare smile. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“Oh, it is,” you said with a mock-serious nod. “But if we’re being serious... I like to read, obviously.” You held up the book for emphasis. “And I’m a sucker for a good movie. Big screen, small screen, doesn’t matter. I also like to go out with friends— go to clubs, a karaoke bar, grab dinner, play board games, complain about life. You know, the usual.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “Any favorites? Books or movies?”

“Hmm,” you mused, tapping your chin. “For books, I like a little bit of everything—mysteries, fantasy, even the occasional cheesy romance. Keeps life interesting. And movies... I’m a sucker for feel-good comedies. But every now and then, I’ll binge something dark and broody just to balance it out.”

Carmy nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Feel-good comedies? Got any recommendations?”

“Oh, I’ve got tons,” you said, your eyes gleaming. “But only if you’re ready for some real classics. Think Clueless, The Princess Bride, or When Harry Met Sally. If you’ve never seen those, we might have to reassess this friendship.”

“Clueless,” he repeated, remembering the movie because of Natalie who forced him and Mikey to watch it, one eyebrow-raising. “That the one with ‘As if’?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, pointing at him with enthusiasm. “See? You’re already on the right track.”

He smirked, shaking his head again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What about you? Do you watch movies, or is that too much fun for someone as serious as Chef Carmy?”

He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I watch stuff sometimes. Nothing specific. Just... whatever’s on.”

“Lame answer,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “We’ll work on that. I’ll make you a list. Everyone needs go-to favorite movies.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, his smirk softening.

“Good,” you replied with a playful nod, leaning back in your chair. “And since you’re such a layer enigma, like an onion, I’m guessing you don’t do the whole ‘night out with friends’ thing often?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “Doesn’t happen much.”

“You should,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your tone teasing but warm. “You might surprise yourself. One minute you’re awkwardly standing in a corner, and the next, you’re reenacting a dance scene from Dirty Dancing with a stranger. That’s how the best stories happen.”

Carmy shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Not sure that’s my thing.”

“Hey, it doesn’t have to be Dirty Dancing,” you said with a shrug. “But everyone deserves a good night out now and then. Even mysterious chef-next-door types.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But no promises.”

“Fair,” you replied, looking over at him with a soft smile. “I’m just saying, Chef Carmy, you can’t live in your kitchen forever. Sometimes you’ve gotta step out and find your own rom-com moment.”

Carmy stared at you for a moment, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head, as though amused by something he couldn’t quite put into words, but the warmth in his expression lingered.

The hum of the machines filled the room, a soft backdrop to your easy conversation. What started as playful banter drifted into more thoughtful exchanges—small glimpses into each other’s lives, quirks, and histories.

Minutes melted into what felt like seconds, neither of you noticing the time slipping away. For once, it wasn’t about schedules, responsibilities, or the ever-present noise of the outside world. Just two neighbors sharing stories in the glow of the laundry room’s dim light.

A/N: So, thank you so much for all the support. It really keeps me going. I'm thinking of making like a small series of this, like a few interactions before they started dating- maybe some jealousy along the way lol- the first date- maybe the future but idk.

Also, just in case I do, please tell me if you would like to be tagged.

Part 4?

@themorriganisamonster

California Dreams

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Nolan!reader (John's younger half-sister)

Summary: You move to California to be closer to your brother John after your mom dies. There, you meet Tim Bradford and begin dating. When your boyfriend and brother meet each other, you're surprised to learn it isn't their first interaction.

Warnings: r and John have the same mom, mostly fluff, brief angst, flirty and soft Tim

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Pennsylvania and California are completely different. When your older half-brother John flew out to Pennsylvania after your mom passed, he kept you at arm’s length. You were close growing up and stayed close into adulthood, so the sudden distance confused you. It wasn’t until after the funeral that you realized he was protecting you from the drama that may have tainted how you remembered her. More than what you already knew, at least. That wasn’t what shocked you the most, though. Most shocking was the question John asked before he left: Would you consider moving to California? We’re family. It took a few weeks, but once you were alone in the place where you grew up, you decided that John was right. So, you packed up your life and moved across the country. That change was the first of many.

“John,” you groan over the phone. “You practically raised me, but you won’t help with this? You’re not a very good brother.”

“I’m an excellent brother if I made you the person you are,” he counters. “But I have work, so it’s not that I won’t help you buy a mattress, but that I don’t have time.”

“Bailey would help.”

“Bailey also has to work.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll just move back to Pennsylvania then.”

“You sound like Mom,” John says before he laughs.

“Hurtful. I have to go.”

“Enjoy shopping. Love you.”

“Clearly,” you mumble. “Be safe.”

You end the phone call and look around the neighborhood. Maybe walking aimlessly while talking wasn’t the best idea. Every house looks the same, and you don’t remember if you turn right or left to get back to your house.

“Excuse me,” you call to a man walking a dog across the street. “Sorry, I just moved here, and I don’t remember how to get back to my street. Could you help me?”

He nods before he jogs across the street to talk to you. “Sure. Which street?” he asks kindly.

You tell him and he looks toward his right to explain, “Turn left at this corner, go down two streets, make a right, and it’ll be on the right.”

“Left, two streets, right, right,” you repeat. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

His eyes drop to your Penn State shirt, and you roll your shoulders to stand straighter. If you knew you were going to meet a gorgeous man on this walk, you would have changed out of your moving/cleaning outfit.

“Can I ask you a favor in return?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, pinching your brows together.

“Join me for lunch?”

Your brows unfurrow quickly to raise. He must feel bad for you, being new in the area.

“Or dinner, whichever works better,” he adds after a moment of silence.

“For what?” you inquire softly.

“A date, or a welcome, if you prefer.”

“You’re asking me out? Why?”

“Why not?” he counters with a heart-stopping smile.

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with questions?”

“Are you going to accept my invitation?”

You shake your head to clear it before answering, “I’d love to go out with you. Lunch sounds amazing. Give me a few minutes to change?”

“I’ll come pick you up in twenty. Meet you at your corner?”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good,” you ramble. You take a step to go past him before you stop. “Can you tell me how to get there again?”

He tips his head back to laugh before repeating the directions. As you walk, you repeat left, two streets, right, right; left, two streets- why did he ask me out? – right, right.

When you exit your house twenty minutes later, he is waiting at the corner just as he said. He leans against the driver’s door and smiles when he sees you walking toward you. Your decade-old Penn State shirt and paint-stained bottoms have been exchanged for a date-worthy outfit, yet he looks at you the same way as he had before.

“Before we go on a date, I thought I should at least introduce myself properly. I’m Tim,” he says, offering his right hand.

You shake it, surprised by how gently he touches you. He repeats your name softly after you introduce yourself, and as he helps you into the passenger seat, you know that moving to California was the right choice. For more reasons than John.

“I’m stealing his best brother ever mug. He doesn’t deserve it,” you huff.

Your hands are on your hips as you look at the mattress on your driveway. When John said he’d drop it off for you after work, you thought he’d bring it in. No. He left it in the middle of the night and sent you a text to let you know it was there. Based on what he’s told you about being a cop, you should be grateful that it wasn’t stolen, but now you have to figure out how to get it inside and on your new bed frame by yourself.

“I can do this,” you tell yourself.

Someone clears their throat on the sidewalk behind you, and you turn quickly.

“Tim,” you breathe out, relieved to see him rather than a stranger. “Hi.”

He nods in place of greeting before he looks to the mattress. “Did your brother drop that off?”

“How did you know that?”

He points to a piece of cardboard taped to the end closest to the road. You walk toward him and sigh when you read it.

“Enjoy. Love, your favorite brother,” you read. “He’s such a jerk.”

“Really?” Tim questions.

“No,” you admit, rubbing your jaw briefly. “He had to work late and didn’t want to wake me up to get it in.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, it’s fine.” You turn toward Tim to ask, “Did we have plans?”

“I was hoping we could make some. But seeing as you have a mattress to babysit, maybe I’ll come back later.”

“Give me twenty minutes,” you request quickly. You look at the size of the mattress and amend, “Thirty, tops.”

“Or…” Tim begins, leaning in. “You could just let me help.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Get the mattress inside and then we can go?” you agree.

Tim shakes his head, betrayed by his smile, as he steers you toward the mattress.

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“I just told you. I’m here to take you on a date.”

“No, I mean, why aren’t you at work?”

Tim shrugs as he squats. He flips the mattress on its side effortlessly, and you step back as you watch his arms flex under his sleeves. “Do you want to watch or help?”

You clear your throat quickly and walk to the other end. “Help,” you whisper.

“Do you trust me?” Tim asks dramatically.

“Run me into a wall and you’ll regret it,” you answer.

Tim scoffs before he instructs you to walk backward toward your front door. Within a few minutes, Tim has the mattress inside, out of its protective wrapping, and placed on your bedframe. He leans against the end of the mattress while you change, and rushes to hug you when you emerge.

“You’re happy today,” you murmur as you return his tight grip.

Tim hums in reply before he leads you to his truck. The bouquet waiting for you on the passenger seat makes you happy, but suspicious. His dropping by mid-morning to take you out isn’t inherently odd, but the rush to get you wherever it is he’s taking you is interesting.

Tim parks outside the restaurant he took you to the day you met. You said you loved the food, but Tim has been expanding your California taste by taking you to different restaurants on every date you’ve been on in the last two months.

“Are we going to go in?” you ask softly.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks quickly.

You grab Tim’s hand as your smile grows. “Tim, look at me?” you request. When he turns his face and sees your smile, you answer, “I’d love to. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Fine, not much would make me happier,” you correct with a chuckle.

“Thank you.”

“Is that the proper response?” you tease.

Tim rolls his eyes but leans across the console to kiss you before lunch. Moving to California was certainly life changing.

“You’ve been busy,” John says as he walks into your house.

“I know we’re family, but there’s this thing called knocking. It’s all the rage in Pennsylvania, you should try it,” you call from the kitchen.

“Then why’d you give me a key?”

“Because California is scary.”

John shakes his head as he joins your side. You shove him away from the oven before he can touch the food, and he scoffs as his hand raises to his chest.

“After every meal I’ve made for you!” he exclaims.

“Thanks for the mattress. I think you could’ve dropped it off a little nicer, but I appreciate it.”

“Where is it? I thought I’d be helping you carry it in when I came over.”

“One of my neighbors saw me staring at it and mumbling about how terrible you are and helped me get it in.”

“You let a stranger into your house?” John asks loudly. “Have you learned nothing?”

“John-“

“This is not Pennsylvania. We don’t know everyone and their dads. That was incredibly stupid. He could’ve been casing the place!”

“I never said it was a man,” you mumble.

“Okay, she could’ve been casing the place!”

“Hello?” Bailey asks from the front door. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you answer while John yells, “She let a stranger in here!”

“Let her explain,” Bailey requests calmly.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “John, I know you’re worried about me, but I wouldn’t let anyone that I didn’t trust into my house. You know that.”

“And you trust your neighbors after two months?” he asks.

“When he’s my boyfriend, yes, I do,” you answer, tired of arguing with him.

Bailey looks between you and Nolan, and mouths Good job when you meet her eyes.

“Since when?” Nolan asks after a moment.

His voice is back to its normal level, and he’s your half-brother again, not a protective cop who thinks you’re in danger.

“Officially? A couple of hours. We’ve been dating for two months, though. We met the week I moved in,” you explain. “He helped me out. I didn’t tell him anything personal until I got to know him better, I promise.”

“I trust you, I do,” Nolan assures. “Sorry for yelling and worrying.”

“I want you to meet him soon, John. Just give me a little time, okay?”

“That sounds nice, and I won’t pry before then. Promise.”

“I will,” Bailey interjects. “What’s he like?”

“He’s amazing,” you answer.

Nolan lets his head fall back; he hasn’t listened to you talk about boys since you were in high school, and he thought he would never have to again. That doesn’t mean he isn’t happy for you, and you know that.

“Hey,” Tim greets as you open the door. “I brought your favorite snacks and popcorn.”

“I love you,” you sigh dreamily.

“Should’ve brought popcorn sooner,” he muses.

“I need to ask you something before we start the movie, though.”

Tim freezes in your kitchen.

“I didn’t say we need to talk, Tim. Just have something to ask,” you clarify. “It’s not bad.”

“Go ahead,” Tim agrees.

“Will you come over for dinner on Friday and meet my brother?” you ask, wringing your fingers together.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. He’s- he’s all I have left since my mom died. I know that it’s a lot to ask-“

“Yes,” Tim interjects. “I’ll be here. Tell me what to bring.”

“That was easy,” you mumble.

“I have a hard time saying no to you,” Tim admits.

You smile, and Tim shakes his head. He points to the couch, and you walk away from him to get comfortable for movie night. You understand his dilemma completely. All you can do now is hope that John doesn’t do anything to push Tim away; you don’t think he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but he can be overbearing and protective.

Tim parks on the street in front of the house beside yours. He sits in his truck for a moment before he gets out. You told him he didn’t need to bring anything (repeatedly, because he asked a lot), yet he carries a case of your favorite drink as he approaches your driveway.

“Bradford?”

Tim looks up from the sidewalk and sees a familiar truck and face in your driveway.

“Nolan?” he asks.

“What are you doing here?” they ask simultaneously.

Neither answer but square their shoulders and stare at one another. They’re both protective, for different reasons, and the surprise of seeing each other brings that out. As they continue evaluating one another, trying to think of a logical explanation but failing because they’re thinking of you, the front door opens.

You step out and see your brother and boyfriend staring at one another in your driveway. They don’t look up, so you walk toward them. Your smile drops as your excitement evaporates. Maybe one of them said something or they came in with assumptions. Whatever is happening between them, you can’t risk losing either of them.

“Why is Tim Bradford here?” Nolan asks suddenly.

“I’m her boyfriend. Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“Boyfriend?!” Nolan repeats incredulously.

“Stop, both of you,” you say. “Just- just come in and I will explain everything.”

Tim tears his attention from John and follows you inside. He whispers an apology as he sets the drinks on your counter. When John walks in, though, Tim goes back to the hardened cop John knows. You’ve seen Tim’s protective side before, so you aren’t surprised by his change in attitude.

“Tim, John is my big brother. Half-brother, technically, but we’re incredibly close, so I wanted you to meet him. John, Tim is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a couple of months, so I thought it was time to let you meet him,” you explain.

“Why didn’t you tell me I worked with your boyfriend?” John asks.

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell her you were a cop?”  he asks Tim.

“He did,” you interrupt. “But he’s Metro, so I just assumed you hadn’t met. That one’s on me.”

“Well,” Tim begins, “nice to meet you, John.”

“What are you talking about?” John inquires.

“I’ve only met cop John, not brother John. Does he talk less?”

“More,” you mumble.

“That’s enough out of you,” John tells you.

“I have to go finish dinner,” you say. “Be nice.”

“I’m not going to give you the whole talk, but don’t hurt her,” John says quietly.

“I wouldn’t,” Tim promises. “I promise you that.”

“She’s happy. Thank you.”

“She’s amazing.”

“That’s because I raised her.”

Tim presses his lips together and slaps Nolan’s shoulder as he says, “No it’s not.”

“Thank you both for coming,” you say after you clear the table. “And I’m sorry for making everything awkward by not mentioning you to each other.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tim replies.

“You had no way of knowing,” John agrees. “We’ll stop fighting.”

“In front of you,” Tim says into his glass.

“I’ve got an early shift, so I have to head out,” John says as he stands.

He hugs you and says goodbye, and you walk him to the door before returning to Tim. You perch on his leg rather than sitting across from him now that you’re alone. He tilts his head to kiss you, and you relax against him. Dinner was both better and worse than you hoped. It worked out, though, and that’s what matters.

“I’m so glad you don’t act like your brother,” Tim says as you pull back.

“Don’t make this weird,” you reply as you lean in to kiss him again.

When you lean away and stand, Tim follows you wordlessly. You retrieve another drink from the case he brought but set it aside to wrap your arms over Tim’s shoulders.

“Who won the staring contest?” you ask.

“Clearly, I did. I wouldn’t have stayed otherwise,” he answers.

“You and John… you’re both protective, but you put that aside to do it together, or whatever that quiet conversation was. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I’m supposed to thank you. You’re the one who introduced me to your family. I just asked a yes or no question.”

“That’s not true. I met Kojo.”

Tim smiles as he pulls you closer. He and Nolan may not get along perfectly (who does? you remind yourself), but they both love you in their own ways. When Nolan said dreams come true in California, you thought it was a cheesy ploy to convince you to move, but he was right. Your dream is kissing you right now, and you’ve never been happier.

The Cook and The Teacher!

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

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

Feat Abbot Staff!!

Carmy hated Sundays.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You have no idea." You laugh.

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

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

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

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

“Looks... intense.” Carmy tells her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch it!” she barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags:

@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe

@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1

Black Friday

Relationship: Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Inappropriate Behavior Towards Women

Word Count: 2,098

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: Quite possibly the most stressful day of the entire year is here. Now, they have to really keep a leash on the symbiote.

Consider Donating: Here

“Eddie, wakey, wakey. Wake up, my love.” A soft dulcet voice caused the man to blink his eyes open finally. The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, but inside was simply blinding. His girlfriend’s gorgeous smile was above him, causing her hair to fan out.

“Hey,” he groaned with his voice still thick with sleep, “how’s my girl doin’?”

“Good, but we’ve gotta get up. I’ve got to get to work, and you promised to stay with me so we can go straight from there to shopping. They got that deal on the new tv we wanted.” Eddie rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. He wrapped his hands around her waist to bring her into his lap. Burying his face into her neck, he pressed a few kisses there, before pulling back to look at her sweet face.

“Alright, pretty girl. What time is it?”

“Five.”

“Well then, we don’t want you to be late. Now do we?”

“No, we don’t.” The deep voice of their favorite symbiote suddenly joined the party. An inky black head with large white eyes materialized upon Eddie’s shoulder, who then sighed an annoyed sigh.

“Morning, V. How are you, sweet thing?” She pressed a kiss to the slimy cheek which made the alien let out a happy rumble.

“Don’t encourage him. It’s too early,” mumbled Eddie once he dropped his head in defeat.

“Eddie, she loves me. Do not get in the way of our love.”

“Okay, boys,” she chimed in before they could start an argument, “let’s go get ready for the day.”

The couple and their unintentional third wheel went about their routine like normal. It was a pleasant morning for what was most definitely going to be a stressful day ahead. Black Friday had hit the American economy. While they did plan on taking advantage of it, they had stuff to do first. So, having the calm of the morning was lovely. Eddie spent his time trying to actually make breakfast and coffee for him and his lover. Venom tried to help in his own special way, leading to a mess that Eddie would, inevitably, have to clean. And she spent her time getting ready for work.

This was the joy of living with her boyfriend, and the symbiote. There was never a dull moment, and yet, they managed to work well together. In recorded time, she was out the door with her boyfriend, and walking down the beautiful street towards his bike. No matter what, she always wore her helmet. Eddie insisted upon it, and since Venom could not inhabit her body, he did too.

All of her coworkers knew that the revving of the bike’s engine meant that she had brought her gorgeous piece of meat with her. It genuinely made her giggle the first few times when the other women, and one of the guys, were hitting on Eddie while he was inside the cafe, with her nearby. Now, everyone just liked watching him work on his laptop in the corner as the pretty man he is.

“I’m gonna go clock in. You hang out in your spot, okay? I’ll bring your first round to you shortly,” and she gave Eddie a kiss once the helmets were gone.

She went into the cafe first, feeling the cozy heat inside, and rounding the corner to start her job. Eddie followed shortly after, even though the cafe was still technically closed for another few minutes. No one minded have him inside. He was always nice to people, and tipped them generously once it came time to pay his tab.

As soon as seven hit, the store was flooded with customers. Some people were looking for their first fix before starting their own Black Friday shifts. While others were trying to stay caffeinated and/or warm for their Black Friday shopping ahead. Either way, their little cafe was busy. She brought over Eddie’s second coffee, with a double chocolate chip cookie for Venom.

“Thanks, angel. And, um,” he leaned in just a bit, making her do the same. “The other guy says thank you too.”

“You guys are welcome.” She replied in the same tone that he had been using. As she walked away to start helping behind the counter again, she heard her lover muttering to himself.

“No, I’m not gonna tell her that. She’s working. Control yourself.”

Never a dull moment with those two. But, thanks to the holiday, there was never a dull moment the entire eight hours behind the counter anyways. Eddie watched as a steady stream of customers kept his darling girl busy. She took on different jobs, like they all did, rotating every couple of hours so no one got into too much of a rut. It was actually really lovely to see them using so much teamwork.

His favorite time was when his angel was on the register. He loved it. Eddie was seated with a perfect line of sight so that he could spend those two hours watching her. And the man was having a great time, even with the commentary from his friend in the back of his head. That was, until, some jerk came along to ruin it.

For some reason, there was a guy who, no matter how many times he got turned down, would continually make passes at Eddie’s girl. Now, she could take care of herself, but each time it was getting harder and harder to restrain the other guy. Today, this prick decided to some early Black Friday shopping it appeared.

“Hello gorgeous. How’s my favorite little barista doing today?” He leered, only to be met with her most deadpan face.

“Welcome in. What can I get started for you?” To anyone else, she sounded like a cheery, customer service worker. But Eddie knew better.

“Well, I just got this new watch,” he flashed the overtly shiny thing in her face. “Wanna know the greatest thing about it?”

“Are you going to get a coffee, or a pastry, sir?”

“It tells me exactly when to pick you up for our date tomorrow night.” Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she took a deep breath in, and out.

“Are you going to order something? There is a line, sir.” She tried once more, and yet, this guy was just not getting the hint.

“As long as you are on the menu, yes. I’ll be getting something.” This creep leaned across the counter, over the register, and into her personal space. As much as she tried to lean and get out of his way, she did not catch the hand coming up onto her arm until it had made contact. Jumping back as if she had been burned, the shiver that swept through her body could not be suppressed. Thankfully, right as Eddie started making his way over, her male coworker, Leon, had sprung to her aid.

“Hey. Uh, no way honey. You are gonna walk out of here and not come back before I call the cops and have you trespassed. We are gonna keep our hands to ourselves before I come across this counter. Come on, sugar.” Leon ushered his angel to the back to take some deep breaths before coming back out to find the creep still there.

“Go on! Shoo! If I have to come across this counter, you sure as hell not gonna like me. Go!” Finally, the man left in a huff as Eddie saw his angel poke her head out from around the corner of their dry storage. He kept murmuring to himself on the entire trip out, but no one came to his aid. As soon as he was gone, she went back to working the drinks counter while Leon filled for her at the register.

“That pathetic man put his hands on our angel.” Venom growled, letting Eddie feel the rumble deep in his chest.

“Yeah, I don’t like it either, buddy. But she’s safe behind the counter.” Before he could sit back down, the man felt his limbs go rigid as his friend took control over his muscles.

“What are you doing?” They were walking faster towards the front door and past the counter. Eddie’s laptop was still there, so everyone knew he was coming back. But as she saw the shadow of her boyfriend walk past her, a small black tendril emerged from her lover’s back and sent a salute towards her.

“Oh no.” She chuckled and went back to work.

“We are going to teach that thing a lesson about touching what’s ours.”

“What is this ‘our’ stuff you spouting off about, V? She is my girlfriend. Not yours.”

“I know she is not just mine. That is why I say ours, Eddie.” Before said Eddie could retort once again, they rounded the corner to the alleyway right next to the back door of the cafe where they would take out trash. And would you like to guess who they found lurking around?

“Let me eat his head, Eddie. Please. He’s got a Black Friday discount on life.” He had no clue whether or not the symbiote was joking. Knowing Venom, he knew he probably was not.

Inky limb like tendrils shot out from Eddie to grab at the creep that had been targeting their girl, and shoved him against the wall. Venom was not completely taking over Eddie’s body yet, but he was close. Walking up to the pinned man, another tendril slapped over his mouth to silence his screaming. Eddie tried to look as mean as he possibly could.

“Look, guy. Whoever the hell you are. Leave my- ow- our girl alone. She isn’t interested. She will never be interested. Get it through your head. Got it?” Unfortunately, he still could not take a hint.

“Oh, what. Like she’d go out with you, mister disgraced journalist? Listen pal, I’ve got connections. You try to threaten me and you’ll be in a jail faster than you can say ‘merry Christmas’. Now let me go!” He struggled once more, but Eddie just sighed.

“See, that just ain’t gonna happen. See, I’ve got a friend. And right now, he is really itchin’ to hurt you. So let’s just part ways and this all goes away, yeah?” The offer fell on deaf ears as the man struggled to break free.

“You asked for it.” In an instant, Venom’s head popped up from his shoulder like an aggressive cat. The silence that followed was beautiful.

“I would very much like to eat his head now. Human brains always taste best.”

“No, V. We’re just gonna rough him up and then go back inside. No eating heads. Don’t wanna draw attention to m- our girl.”

Their entire dialogue was being witnessed by someone who looked three seconds away from passing out, peeing himself, or screaming. Maybe all three. But as Venom showed all of his teeth and his disturbingly long tongue, turns out it was those three. But in very fast order.

“Well,” the body dropped to the floor, “that was interesting. Let’s go inside. I want some more coffee before we leave.” Eddie turned on his heels and marched back inside. Once he was within view of others, Venom retreated back into his host. “Good boy.”

“I am not a dog, Eddie! But thank you. I would like another cookie for my efforts.” The monster growled, a pleasant purr emitting from him as he saw their angel behind the counter.

“Alright. You can have another cookie.” Once he was at the register, Leon got Eddie’s, and unknowingly Venom’s order, before moving down to where his girl was making delicious treats. But he did turn back at the last moment to send a quick, “thank you,” to the man who just nodded.

“You won’t have to worry about that a-hole again, angel.” He murmured, accepting the cookie she gave him, mostly for his alien friend.

“Did Eddie talk to him or the other guy,” came her tease as she made his coffee just how he liked it.

“A bit of both. Ow, would you quit it? Fine! Mostly the other guy. You happy now, diva?” His monologue that she knew was actually a dialogue sounded hilarious right about now.

“Thank you. Both of you. I’ve got thirty minutes left, so after that we can go get that new tv since our old one is broken.” Even though he was not physically present, Eddie knew that she was staring at Venom when she said that.

“Black Friday makes people do crazy things.”

Arrest Me, Cop Cutie

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After another failed attempt at a date, Tim goes undercover. You have no choice but to arrest him, and he's unhappy with the decisions you make trying to do so.

Warnings: brief angst, minor injuries, fluff, Tim gets flirty when he's undercover, mention of drug trafficking, typical show warnings

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

she puts the short in shorty, and he looks like he wants to chase me. cop cuties, cute and on duty, navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up.

“So,” you begin.

“Don’t,” Tim interrupts, raising one hand from the steering wheel to point at you. “Just don’t.”

“Big, bad Bradford believes in jinxing?” you ask sarcastically. “And here I thought you were just keeping up appearances to hide the softie within.”

Tim sighs, slowing as he hits his blinker. You’ve been trying to get dinner together for weeks. Something comes up whenever you attempt to go somewhere together or meet at a restaurant. The first time, Tim got called in for a last-minute Metro assignment. Most recently, you were both alerted of a nearby officer-involved shooting. So far, tonight seems quiet, but you understand Tim’s hesitance to admit it. Though you’re still confused about why Tim agreed to get dinner with you after you handcuffed him to a guardrail in a warehouse-turned-drug-house, you want the date to go well. Is it a date? you ask yourself. Tim never clarified if this was for both of you or just for the apology you offered to give.

Tim parks outside a restaurant Lucy recommended and waits for a moment. Everything remains calm, and you smile because you can finally have dinner with Tim Bradford.

And then your phone rings, so the moment is shattered.

“Hello?” you greet, closing your eyes. You listen to Angela’s quick recount of the last half hour, then say, “Yeah, I can be there in a few minutes… Mmhmm, no problem.”

Ending the call, you drop your phone to your lap and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tim. Lopez needs-“

Tim’s phone ringing cuts you off, and he shows you Angela’s name on the caller ID before he answers. A moment later, he shifts into reverse and backs out of the parking space.

“Jake Butler,” Tim says. “I thought we threw him in jail after the Vegas incident.”

“We did,” you answer flatly. “Guess he got out. If I find him, he’s going to pay for ruining everything.”

“Did Angela tell you anything else?”

“Just that he was back on their radar, and they saw an opening to figure out the operation.”

“Fantastic,” Tim deadpans.

“Hey, bro!” Jake exclaims as you and Tim enter the interview room with Angela. “Whoa, you clean up nice, man? You on a date or something?”

“Something,” Tim replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “Get to the point, Butler.”

“Must’ve been a good something,” Jake murmurs. He looks at you and smiles before explaining the deal going down tonight.

“What is your boss expecting you to bring?” you inquire.

“Good work ethic,” he says, shrugging. “And product, obviously.”

“How much product?” Tim presses.

“The exact amount that is in my car.”

“We’ll be confiscating all of that after the operation,” Angela reminds him. Turning to you, she says, “He’s offering his car as part of the deal with the DA. This guy has only spoken to Jake here on the phone, so there’s not much of a chance of anyone close to him noticing any difference when Tim walks in.”

“Yeah,” Jake drawls. “Y’all see the tats, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We see the tats.”

“How long do we have?” Tim asks.

“Drop is at 6,” Jake says. “I park in the underground lot, go up to his penthouse, and we work from there.”

“Specific,” you mumble, drawing a grunt from Tim.

“Thanks, Mr. Butler,” Angela says. “And if anything you told us was wrong, we’re throwing your deal in the gutter with your future. Okay?”

“Yeah, shawty.”

Tim rolls his eyes and follows Angela out of the room. You linger until the door is closed and ask, “Is there anything else you think you should tell us?”

“There’s a panic room,” Jake admits. “Code was 1016 last I was there.”

You nod, then exit the room and wonder what you’d be doing right now if your night had gone according to plan.

“UC parked in 238, underground lot,” someone radios.

You watch the cameras in the surveillance van, tracking Tim’s movements toward the penthouse. While Tim was being transformed to look like Jake, you insisted on staying with Metro for the duration of the operation. You must be close enough to bail Tim out if things go south, you explained. Your captain then brought up the defiance of direct orders during your last Metro op. You were only allowed to join the team with Angela’s vote of confidence and your promise to do anything and everything they say to keep Bradford safe.

Tim knocks on the door and greets the large, armed man who opens it. He sounds like Jake, but you know it’s Tim, and your heart rate speeds up with each step he takes inside. Once he’s in the penthouse, you can’t see him. You can hear him through a long-distance microphone attached to the sniper’s rifle across the street. His tracker blinks on one of the screens, and you clench your jaw as you listen and watch.

“Where’s my stuff, Butler?” someone yells.

“Whoa, man, I wasn’t gonna cart that kind of purchase past the doorman,” Tim argues with a chuckle.

“Whose decision is that? Whose paying for all of it? Who got you out of jail?!”

That answers one question.

“Last we talked, you told me to park, come up here, and we’d work from there,” Tim reminds him. “If you changed the plan without telling me, I guess that’s on me.”

“That was never the plan. Are you trying to screw me, Butler?”

“Nah, man, just a miscommunication. Tell me what you want me to do to fix it.”

The man hesitates, then repeats, “Fix it?”

You stand as the officer sitting across from you prepares to open the door. The van is painted to look like an internet service vehicle, so you could park close to the apartments where Tim is.

“Yeah, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Tim replies.

The unmistakable sound of guns racking fills the van, and the Metro commander radios for everyone to move in now. Running through the parking lot and into the building, you don’t notice the stares you receive, only the intel communicated through your earpiece.

“UC held at gunpoint,” the sniper alerts. “I don’t have a clear shot. Three armed men, plus two at the door.”

“Suspect has cameras on his floor,” another voice says. “Approach from the southern elevators and utilize limited penetration entry through the front door.”

You race up the steps, your heart pounding like it will break through your ribs. Tim is in danger, his life is being threatened, and you’re terrified that you’re too far away to save him. When you reach the landing on the penthouse floor, you struggle to focus on your job. With a deep breath, you remind yourself to obey for Tim. If you rush in, you’ll just get yourself killed, too.

“Hold!” the commander instructs. “We’ve lost visual. UC is moving west.”

“There’s nothing to the west,” Angela replies. “It’s blocked off. Probably utilities.”

“The panic room!” you remember.

“Butler didn’t tell you where it was,” she argues. “We can’t tell on thermal.”

“It’s probably lined, but you’re right.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Angela decides. “Assume our UC is in the panic room but keep your eyes open and stay alert. Breach.”

You’re fourth in line as you enter the penthouse. Seven Metro officers against five armed criminals is as close to a fair fight as you can expect in your line of work. When you step inside, the man who was guarding the door runs toward you. Dropping your gun, you brace yourself against his hit. His hands shove into your shoulders, and you grip his wrists as he pushes you against the wall. Everyone around you is fighting, so you hold your own against a man who outweighs you and towers over you. Tim is nowhere in sight, nor is Jake’s employer, so you’ll have to fight through this chaos to find him.

Tim watches as the man leading him through a lead-lined hallway types 1-0-1-6 into a keypad. It opens a door into what is clearly a doomsday-style panic room, and he raises his hands as he’s shepherded into it. The heavy doors silence the fight outside, so Tim doesn’t know whether his backup is on the way or if they can locate this well-hidden last resort.

“Where’d the cops come from, Butler? You workin’ with them now?” the man demands, brandishing a curved knife.

“What cops, man?” Tim asks, his voice rising in imitation of Jake.

“The doorman saw a whole team of uniformed tactical guys rush into the place! That’s not what I signed up for.”

“Me neither! Do I look like I’d be making a deal with cops? I’m low-time, I’d go to jail either way and you know better than some attorney that I don’t do cells.”

“Then tell me how they found us right after you did!”

Tim steps back, creating room between himself and the knife. Without any weapons, he would prefer to de-escalate the situation verbally if possible. As the man looks at him, he sees a crazy look in his eyes and assumes the verbal response is no longer an option.

The Metro officers who entered the penthouse with you zip-tie the wrists of the five armed men while you look for an entrance to the panic room. A small latch on the side of a bookshelf catches your attention, and you tug it. The shelf pops away from the door, and a hiss sounds as you pull it open farther.

“I’ll get the UC,” you offer.

“We’ll keep these guys quiet,” an officer replies. “Radio if you need help.”

You nod once, then jog into the hallway. There’s a keypad halfway down the hall, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you type in the code Jake gave you. Another door hisses as its seal is broken.

“Knock knock!” you call, raising your gun to your shoulder as you move toward the lead door. “LAPD Metro, come out with your hands up!”

You’re met with silence, and you work to steady your breath as you near the door. Before you nudge it open, someone hits it with a quick downward slap. Off-balance, you let the gun fall as you stumble inside.

The man you recognize as Jake’s employer manages to get you on the ground, and you twist to elbow him in the throat. He swings his fist down, and you don’t see the blade tucked between his fingers. He hits your jaw, and your cheekbone stings as the tip of the knife scrapes across it. Pulling your knee up, you aim between his legs. He buckles forward, and you wrap your arms around his upper body. Swinging your leg, you flip to be on top of him.

Panting, you demand, “Roll over. You’re under arrest.”

He groans and doesn’t move. After you knock the knife away from him, you pull his arm to flip him onto his stomach. With your knee pressing between his kidneys, you pull a zip-toe closed around his wrists, then sit back on your heels.

Tim smirks at your position, and you shake your head as you move into a half-kneel position. Wiping blood from your cheek, you push yourself to your feet.

“Jake Butler, you’re under arrest,” you say. “Put your hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

Tim looks at your cut cheek, then at the man zip-tied and squirming in pain beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll comply,” Tim drawls. “Since I’m making it easy, could you try to make the whole arrest me thing a little sexy? I’ve always had a thing for cop cuties, with their navy blue booties.”

“Shut up,” you demand as you pull his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, go ahead and lock me up,” he continues as you secure the handcuffs around his wrists.

“I’m 10-4 in the panic room. Butler and his employer are in custody,” you radio.

An officer appears in the doorway to help you escort both men to the patrol cars waiting outside the lobby. He hauls Jake’s boss to his feet and leads him out of the panic room. You follow, leading Tim through the penthouse and into the hall.

After the elevator closes and all the arrested men have been escorted out, you remove his cuffs. He turns toward you quickly, his jaw clenched tightly. You recognize the look and know he’s about to yell at you.

“I know, I know, you never put the cuffs on me,” you say before he can begin. “Sorry, but there were too many people who could see.”

“You really think that’s what I’m mad about?” Tim questions. “I don’t care what you do to UCs.”

“Then what are you mad about?” you ask softly.

Tim raises his hand to your face but stops before he touches you. His hand falls, and he says, “You got hurt. Medics will be ready at the station.”

As Tim turns away from you, you wish he had touched you.

At the end of the day, you exit the station and sigh. You received treatment for your minor injuries, completed the reports, and patrolled before your end of shift. Walking through the parking lot, you keep your eyes down and think about last night.

“A cut cheek isn’t getting you out of dinner,” Tim calls.

You look up at the sound of his voice and see him leaning against the tailgate of his truck.

“If you’re still up for it,” he adds.

“You’re just saying that because I’m a cop cutie,” you reply, smiling.

Tim groans at the reminder of what he said while he was undercover. He raises his hand again, but this time, he places his palm on your jaw and gently traces the bottom of your bandage. His movement and his touch say more than he ever has.

“If we finally go on a date, do you think we could stop arresting each other?” you inquire.

“Maybe,” he answers, opening the passenger door for you.

“That sounded too hopeful.”

𝑷𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝑩𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — andy barber x fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — you catch Laurie cheating on her husband, but what she didn't realise is that payback is indeed a bitch.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — cheating (on both sides), SMUT, minors dni, sir kink, praise kink if you squint?, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, cream pie, idk is riding Andy’s dick a warning? Laurie, yeah she is a freaking warning.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — reblog and comment! follow @sstanhoe-updates to get notifications everytime I post!!!! so turns out I'm very short on WiFi and when I plan to post i don't know if I'll even have WiFi 👍 also I couldn’t exactly neglect Andy like that? Though I'm already on a few new Lloyd fics

“Good morning y/n!” Laurie’s cheery voice greeted you at the entrance of the office. She had a smile that she hadn’t had for a while, “good morning boss, you seem so happy. Did Andy do something? Did you two spoke it out and had sex?” You asked matching her smile.

Laurie giggled at your questions, “first of all the fact that you call me boss and ask if I had sex in the same sentence doesn’t match. Second, yeah you could say it like that.”

She gave you one last cheeky smile before vanishing in her office.

You had been Laurie’s assistant for over eight years now, you had seen Jacob grow up, helped her through the murder trial and supported her. You had also known Andy for seven years and he was the perfect husband at the beginning until two years ago.

Jacob was framed for murder and the marriage of Laurie and Andy lost the spark, passion…everything it hand. Now they fought and only existed next to each other.

Laurie told you everything from her perspective, but you were dying to know Andy’s. She may be your boss but knew how she could be and probably didn’t make it easy for him.

Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realized that the mail man stood in front of your desk.

“Excuse me? I’ve got flowers for Laurie Barber?” Confused you looked up at him, “what?” “Flowers…for Laurie Barber?” Ohh, they must be from Andy.

“Oh, yeah. Just give ‘hem to me, do you mind me asking from who they are?” You asked taking the flowers from the man. “Sorry, no, but even if I did, I couldn’t there is no sender on them.”

Andy wouldn’t hide it if they were from him, but maybe it was a gift for something Laurie did for someone.

“Okay thanks anyway, bye!” The man gave you a smile and walked away.

However, you were a noisy person and looked for a card. The flowers were jasmine which looked beautiful…Laurie’s favourite. Only a few people knew her favourite, and Andy was surly one of them.

‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman – T’ What the fuck you thought as you found a card, those were definitely not from Andy.

Taking a deep breath you walked over to Laurie’s door, knocking twice before she said, ‘come in’. With a forced smile you opened the door, “a flower bouget just came for you.” Laurie instantly jumped up and walked out to the flowers.

“Soo are they from Andy?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. Laurie took the card, reading it and pressing it to her chest with a smile which she hid from you giving she had her back turned to you.

“Yeah, Andy found his romantic side again…oh and I forgot to tell you I have a lunch meeting with Thomas which I would like to have in my office without any distractions.”

You nodded, being suspicious or maybe you were just making this all up. Even if her marriage wasn’t good, she wouldn’t cheat right?

“Sure, thing boss,” you agreed. Laurie gave a smile and went back to her office with the bouget of flowers. You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

As lunch rolled around a man with dark blonde hair and acid green eyes walked up to your desk. “I have a meeting with Mrs. Barber,” he said while playing with his keys. “Okay, I need a name.”

“Thomas Jones.” You nodded and told him to go right in as you scribbled the name down on a piece of paper with one hand.

The man walked in, and it gave you a little time to lock over him. He wasn’t as tall as Andy and didn’t look as muscular, while Andy was big and intimidating Thomas was slim and spoiled.

Right then the phone rang, looking at the caller ID you sae Andy’s name pop up.

“Hi Andy,” you greeted him with a hint of surprise in your voice. “Hello darling, I was wondering if you could go into Laurie’s office. She accidentally took one of my files with her this morning.” You could melt everytime he called you ‘darling’. Andy made it a habit everytime Laurie wasn’t around.

“Sure, but she has meeting and told me no distraction, would you come to get the file then?” If Andy was going to come here, you had to prepare Laurie.

“Oh, no don’t worry. I just need information from it, which would have led to my next question, if you could send me a picture or tell what I need?” Of course, you would do everything to help him.

God what was wrong with you? He is your bosses husband after all.

“I would love to Andy, but right now isn’t a good time.” “Darling please, I really need it. My case depends on you, and you want to be good girl, right?” Fucking hell yes, yes you want to be a good girl.

“Yes sir, I mean Andy. Sorry, yeah, I will get the file.” You shakily breathed out. “Thank you darling, I’ll wait here.” Nodding you stood up and walked over to Laurie’s office.

Taking a deep breath you opened the door, “Laurie, Andy called and-,” you cut yourself of as you saw the scene in front of you. Laurie bend over her desk and Thomas balls deep inside her. “Oh my god, oh my god…” you repeated and quickly shut the door.

So, your suspicions were right, poor Andy. To be honest you would have expected between the two of them that Laurie would be one to cheat. Andy was always loyal.

Wait…Andy was still on the phone. “Andy-, I uhm…,” you didn’t know what to say, should you tell him? No, not right now.

“There, there was no uh file…sorry- I, yeah,” you stuttered with a drained tone. “That’s fine darling. Speak to you soon, bye,” “bye,” your voice broke as the word left your mouth.

He hang up and Laurie stormed out of her office, her hair looked like a mess…after her came Thomas with the same look. “Y/n, please don’t tell Andy!” She almost begged, almost. “This was a one-time thing, and I don’t even like him-“ “What? We have been fucking for a month now!” Thomas cut through her sentence.

She shot him a look before turning her head back to you with pleading eyes.

You were overwhelmed with the situation, “sure, yeah. I won’t, don’t worry….” She smiled gratefully at you before sending Thomas on his way and quickly rushing into her office.

As you watched how the situation unfolded you realized that you could not keep this a secret from Andy. However, you weren’t sure if he would believe, so just in case you needed prove.

For the rest of the day, you thought how you could prove that Laurie was cheating.

Then as you got yourself a water you overheard two of your co-workers complaining about cameras. It was like a light bulb switching on.

You quickly run back to your desk. A few years back there was a break in which lead to Laurie putting cameras in her office. You were the only one besides Laurie who had access to them, and she always forgot she had one given they were hidden.

Pulling up the file of the camera you really found the footage. Laurie Barber being fucked by Thomas Jones, you scrunched your nose up in disgust.

You copied the video on your phone and packed your thing. Your boss was already gone, she had a class reunion meaning that Andy was hopefully home alone, well besides Jacob.

Driving to the Barbers residence felt longer than it actually was. It felt like you had a big, heavy box on your shoulders, and you were dying to get it off. Parking in front of the house you took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

As you were about to knock the door opened revealing Jacob who gave you a confused look.

“Y/n? Mom’s not here.” “Yeah, I know I’m her assistant,” you chuckled nervously, “I’m hear to talk to your father.”

Jacob’s eyes turned into concern, “did something happen.” Your eyes widened by his question, “no, no don’t worry. You just go on your way.” He nodded giving you a smile. You gave him a pat on the shoulder and entered the house.

Just then Andy jogged down the stairs, “thought I’d hear you,” he gave you one of those beautiful smiles as he walked towards you pulling you into a hug.

“Andy I…this is not easy for me…remember lunch? There is something I have to show you.”

“Did you find the file?” You shook your head in response to his question, “maybe you wanna sit down for that?” “What are you talking about darlin’,” damn his and that pet name.

Slowly he moved to the couch, sitting down he patted the seat next to him. “Before I show you something, you need the prehistory. Today Laurie came in all happy and dazed, I thought it was because you two made up. Then around ten she got a bouget of flowers; jasmine’s which had a card in it that said, ‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman – T’. I was suspicious but didn’t say anything.”

Andy leaned back, he didn’t want to say that he had an idea where this was going but he was suspicious himself. Laurie had been different the past few months, happier.

“Then before lunch she told me she had a meeting with Thomas Jones at lunch and wanted no distractions. Lunch came and so did the man, he was shorter than you, dark blond hair, acid green ice. They went in her office and then you called, said I should go in and I didn’t want to leave you hanging but what I saw was…,” “Laurie fucking Thomas?”

You nodded as he finished the sentence for you, “I even have prove!” You said quickly.

“I don’t need prove darling, I saw it coming but that gives me even more reasons to divorce her.” Andy stated laying his head in his hands.

Nervously you reached for his hand, interlocking it with yours. “I’m sorry this happened, but if you need anything, really anything don’t hesitate to call me.”

Lifting his head Andy pressed a kiss to your knuckled. Butterflies erupted in your stomache, and you prayed to god that this wasn’t just about Laurie. If you were honest, you had always felt a certain attraction towards Andy and now that Laurie was out of the way…

“I think in the last two years I spoke more with you than with my own wife.” He whispered against you joined hands.

His words were true though. While you did help Laurie, you also helped Andy, meeting him for lunch, breakfast or even a walk in the park. You listened to him about he felt, what was going on and how he tried to make everything better.

“I fell out of love with Laurie a long time ago but didn’t want to accept it, then the murder trial came and you. I know you were there before but, in this time, I really got to know you.”

If Andy continued to talk like this then you would be gone, he words made you melt.

“Well Andy, I like you too…,” you trailed of unsure if you read his words right. He smiled in response and laid his unoccupied hand gently against your cheek, “can I kiss you?”

Speechless you nodded. Andy leaned in pressing his lips careful on yours, it was a shy kiss at first. Then you gently bit on his bottom lip, he opened his lips letting your tongue slide in. Your tongues fought over dominance.

Andy deepened the kiss and moved your leg over him sitting you down on his lap. His hands rested on your hips while your held onto his neck.

Slowly Andy circled your hips over his growing cock provoking a whimper from you. He hooked his fingers in your trousers about to pull them down when you stopped him. “Don’t, don’t you think it’s going to fast?” you asked breathless.

“Darling, I wanted you for the past year and could never act on it, I need you. However, if you really want to- ,” “No, no forget I ever said anything just continue.”

“Wait, do you wanna do it on the couch?” this time it was Andy who interrupted. “Well, I don’t really want to have sex with you in the bed you share with Laurie,” you told him and could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Believe she won’t sleep in there another night…maybe-,” “fuck it, she deserves it.” You cut him off and lifted yourself from him.

He led you to the bedroom and promptly threw you on the bed. In one go he took your sweats with you and god were you thankful for not wearing tight pants. They landed somewhere in the room along with Andy’s shirt.

Andy hovered over you giving you the perfect chance to adore his god like sculpted chest, they veins popping out from his arms made you weak.

“Wait, can I…can I suck your cock?” you looked at him through your lashes, Andy grew harder under you by your question. “Yeah, fuck yeah.”

You slid down the bed and kneeled down in front of Andy. Slowly you opened his trousers and pulled them down with his boxer. He stood now opposite from you completely naked while you still wore your shirt, bra, and panties.

His erection sprang out almost hitting his stomache, he was thick and bigger than your past boyfriends.

You licked a long strip up his shaft causing him to wince, taking the courage you took the head of his cock in your mouth, tongue swirling around his red tip that leaked precum.

Andy whispered, “fuck,” clawing his hand in your hair, gaining control over you he pushed you deeper down his length. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. A loud groan came past Andy’s lips.

“I’m sorry…I…fuck it’s been so long,” he apologized releasing you. “It’s okay, fuck my throat, sir please…” Andy thought he misheard but one look in your pleading eyes gave him all the answer he needed.

His hand went back to your hair and pushed you down his cock. Your tongue licked his veins while your free hand played with his balls. Andy moaned loudly as you squeezed him.

You tried to take him in completely but were unable, what you couldn’t reach you rubbed with your other hand.

The moans of Andy turned you on and made your vagina pulls, your panties damp from your wetness.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groaned and pulled you away, “I won’t come down your throat, that’s for next time…I need your pussy.”

Raising you to your feet he pulled your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra in one motion. He backed you on the bed and removed your panties. Holding them up to his nose he smelled them, “did sucking my cock made you this wet pretty girl?”

You gave him a strained nod. Andy hovered over you once again about to line himself up with your leaking cunt, “wait, I gave you no foreplay…should I-,” “that’s for next time,” you repeated his words.

His hardened cock barely slipping through your soddened folds, holding his cock there as he gives a few tentative thrusts, lubing himself up with your slick.

Gently Andy pushed his thrombin cock inside your pussy. A cry left you as he stretched you out, “god you're tight, I'm gonna have so much fun ruining you.”

The moans of Andy turned you on and made your vagina pulls, your panties damp from your wetness.

He started with slow thrusts that not only turtoured you but him too. “Andy, let me ride you...please?,” he would do everything you asked.

Rolling over Andy planted you on his thigh, he let go of you giving you free reign.

You lifted your hips over his hard cock, the new angle has your lips parting a soft whimper leaving. Slowly youbpushed down on his length, you feared he was too big for you. His cock pressed against your sweet spot, in response you squeezed him pulling a groan from Andy.

His hand shot up curling around your throat and you whined at the feeling. You spread your legs further sinking down on him completely.

You paused needing time to adjust to his length, “oh would you look at that, you can't even fit all of me inside that tight lil cunt?,” what? no you thought you had taken in fully. One look down showed you truth.

The brunette bucked his hips up with a desperate groan, “darling you have to move...,” he snapped you out.

Taking a deep breath you began moving your hips at a slow pace, “okay that’s it.” Andy snapped his hips up, your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling of ecstasy caused by Andy's harsh thrusts.

His pace became brutal, making you feel how badly he wanted – needed you.

“I'm gonna have you wrapped around my cock for days, why didn't I do this before huh?”

Andy’s thumb rubbed over your clit drawing a desperate cry from you while his over hand held your hip. “are you close darling? You won’t cum until you ask for permission like a good girl,”

He pressed down harder on your bundle of nerves driving you crazy. Needing to gain more control Andy turned you over on your back. The new angle drove a phonographic moan from your lips. Andy pushed himself deeper inside you pausing for a moment and coming face to face with you.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to give you your release. “Ask. For. Permission,” he draw himself out and thrusted hard back after and before every word.

“Please can I cum, please, sir, I've been a good girl, your best girl...please,” you whined.

Downstairs the door opened and a tired looking Laurie walked in. It was after ten and the reunion went longer than expected. Now she only wanted to throw herself into her comfy bed. The only downside was that Andy would be sleeping next to her, but given the perks that came with marriage she had no need to divorce him.

She walked up the steps but aproptly stopped as she heard loud moans and voices coming from the bedroom. Listening closely she could make out Andy’s voice but was unsure on who the woman was.

“Beg like the little slut you are...cum, cum for sir,” the knot in your stomache exploded and it felt like fireworks erupting from your belly.

With you squeezing his cock Andy didn't last long and spurted his white seed inside you. He rocked his hips against yours, fucking you through both of your orgasm. Then he pulled out watching his seed drip from you hungry cunt.

Whispering, “you look so pretty filled with my cream,” Andy pushed his sperm back inside you.

He was leaning up to give you a kiss, telling you how much of a good job you did when the door opened with a lou boom revealing a red headed Laurie.

Laurie’s eyes widened as she saw who was laying beneath Andy. “You fucking bitch!” She screamed, she went to latch at you, but Andy held her back.

“Don’t you dare touch her! The only bitch here is you, cheating on me for months and acting like you want to work on our marriage.” He was filled with rage and was relieved to finally let everything out.

Laurie’s expression was priceless. In all the trouble she had pushed the thought aside that she was cheating too. “Oh yeah? How do I know you're not cheating just as long with my assistant?” she question thinking she could get the upper hand.

Wrapping the bed sheet around your naked body you stood up to face Laurie herself. “I'm sorry Laurie, but you couldn’t keep it a secret and I know I shouldn't have slept with him but–,” “'but'? There is no but! What happened to your loyalty?” You knew you shouldn't have done it, but Laurie deserved it. She had alwaus been treating Andy bad and this was just the cherry on top.

“My loyalty is with Andy, thats why I told him,” you stated unsure what her next was going to be.

Andy’s eyes drifted to you and instantly softened at your words.

Within a second you felt a hot, burning sensation on your cheek. Your eyes widened as you realized that Laurie had slapped you across the face. Holding your cheek shock you glanced at Andy who had the same expression.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Laurie snapped and was ready to throw another punch. Quickly Andy stepped in catching her wrist.

“This is how it's gonna go; you go downstairs and leave us alone, I will give you the divorce papers tomorrow and then you're going to move the fuck out and if you even think of doing anything other than that, I will sue you for every last thing you have.”

Laurie couldn't believe that someone who used to love her would say such words to her, “You're fired.” Those were her last words to you before she left.

Sinking down on the bed tears began falling down your reddened cheek. Andy wasted no time kneeling down in front of you wiping your tears gently away. “What did I do? Andy I betrayed my friend, destroyed a family and now I don't even have a job anymore,” he wrapped his arm around you, holding you against his chest.

“It's okay, I know it's not ideal but you didn’t destroy anything. This family has been broken for years now and the only thing you did was save us. You saved me, now I can be with the woman I wanted to be with for the past two years. Jacob will be much happier knowing his parents aren't fighting anymore. And you know I've got this free job as my assistant if you want it?”

You needed a minute to process Andy’s words. He still wanted you after everything and offered you a job. “I don’t know what to say Andy...”

“Do you not want to be with me?” he asked concerned. Looking up at him you frequently shook your head, “no, I mean yes, I want to be with you. I've wanted this since the day I met you, but I meant the job. I don't want to be a burden...”

“I've wanted to fire Thomas for a long time anyway,” Andy shrugged. At the mention of the name your ears perked up, with confused eyes you watched as Andy began to smirk. “Laurie fucked my assistant, he always undressed her with his eyes and acts like a spoiled brat.”

“You fucked me because Laurie fucked your assistant?” you shrieked backing away from his embrace.

Andy tilted his as if he was thinking about the right answer. That earned him a slap in his chest, “asshole, you think you're funny.” He smiled and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I'm gonna put on some clothes and see Laurie out, then us two will have a relaxing bath, yeah?” He held up his pinkie, “yeah,” you agreed linking your pinkie with his while smiling like a dork.

As Andy walked over to his drawer you took the opportunity and admired his ass, you really wanted to squeeze those cheeks.

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.

Tape

Description: Bruce and Y/N’s sex tape leaked

Warnings: Cursing, sex tape, suggestive,

Word Count:0.8k

“Bruce, wake up,” Y/N startled her husband awake. Normally she tried to let Bruce get at least four hours of sleep but this was an emergency.

“What? I’m up,” Bruce’s first thought was either the Manor was on fire or one of the kids was about to set the Manor on fire. He knew Y/N shaking him awake meant something bad had happened.

“It leaked,” Y/N speaking in vague terms didn’t help Bruce relax in this situation. He was much too tired to attempt to decipher whatever she was talking about.

Keep reading

eddie brock wanting to go out with reader, so she dresses up but venom takes over and compliments her in his own weird ways <3

Your ring nearly snags a thread on the inside left cup of your dress, and you carefully retract it before it can tear the garment. There's a lace edge beneath your bra that's itching something fierce, and you can't wait to take the dress off tonight.

Or, of course, have it taken off of you.

"Eddie?" You call through the apartment, now peering down at your necklace as you try laying it against your chest in a particular way, "Ready to go, babe?"

"Yeah," He calls from the kitchen, the soles of his dress shoes clicking against the wood floor as he comes to find you, "I was thinking we could- woah."

His abrupt stop makes you glance up, and he's got his eyes glued to your dress. It's a new one, a rich brown hue that drapes down your frame like you're a modern-day Jessica Rabbit.

I take it you like the dress," You laugh, watching Eddie's cheeks go pink. He needs a moment to recover, and you're patient enough to give it to him, but venom isn't.

With a series of ungodly squelches the symbiote envelops your boyfriend, sharp, jagged teeth already set in a grin that barely holds back his massive tongue. His eyes are narrowed and it makes his grin that much more predatory, a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"I do not know why Eddie will not talk." Venom leans in, hulking figure crowding your own smaller one, "But I want to. You look delicious. You look like chocolate."

"Yeah?" You grin at Venom, fingers fiddling with the silky fabric of your dress, "Thanks, Venom."

"Do you know what I do to chocolate?" Venom leans in farther still, until you can feel his breath fan over your face. He's intoxicatingly large, and your vision is entirely taken up by him.

"I do," You laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek, "I've found enough massacred remains of hershey bars around this place to know you're not gentle with them."

"I would like to do that to you." Venom's tongue comes out to lick over his teeth, a slimy, dripping, circular path, "But for your comfort I think that we should do it on your bed."

"Not right now," You lament, leaning your forehead against his and kissing the space where his nose should be, "We have to eat first. But maybe you can arm wrestle Eddie for me later, big guy."

"I would win an arm wrestle." Venom boasts, thinking literally instead of picking up on the broader meaning of your words, "Eddie is a weak loser."

"A weak loser who's paying for my dinner tonight," You pinch at Venom's arm, though you're sure it doesn't hurt him, "Lemme see him again, V. We can't be late to this place or we'll lose our table."

Venom is very polite with you. He follows orders seamlessly, shrinking back into Eddie until the man's tanned skin breaks through the black goop that had been swarming it. He's on you in an instant, hands against your hips and nose knocking into yours, "You think I'm a weak loser?"

"No!' You laugh, kissing the smile he's trying to tamp down in the name of dramatics, and wriggling from his grip to grab your helmet off of the counter, "I just think Venom could beat you in an arm wrestle."

"It's true," Eddie calls after you, jogging to catch up as you head for the door, "But it's not nice!"