Charlie Gets A Girlfriend

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Tim Bradford x Rookie!Reader [PLATONIC] — ONGOING SERIES: Like Father, Like Rookie.

Summary: After responding to a particularly gut-wrenching call, you find yourself struggling to shake it off. Tim doesn’t do hand holding or pep talks, but the way he subtly keeps you grounded reminds you that maybe he does care—just in his own way.

Warnings: Reader & Tim take a domestic call gone wrong, mentions of blood, derealisation.

You weren’t sure why this one stuck with you.

You’d seen worse. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You’d handled chaotic crime scenes, violent arrests, situations where adrenaline took over and left no room for emotions to settle in. But tonight—tonight was different.

It was a domestic call gone bad. The kind that started with a 911 hang-up and ended with shattered glass, blood on the floor, and a kid too young to understand what had happened but old enough to know it wasn’t right. You did everything by the book. Secured the scene. Called for medics. Reassured the child the best you could, even when their small hands clung to your uniform like a lifeline. You did your job. And then you left.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But one thing couldn’t get out of your head — Your uniform was awfully stained.

The blood wasn’t yours, but it didn’t matter. It had splattered across your sleeves when you helped the woman up from the floor, smudged onto your hands when you picked up the crying kid. You hadn’t noticed it at first—too busy, too locked into protocol. But now, sitting in the shop under the dim glow of the streetlights, it was all you could see.

You rubbed your palms together, as if you could scrub the feeling away, but the red didn’t disappear. It had already dried, darkened into something rust coloured and permanent. Your breathing slowed, the noise of the city fading into a dull hum as a strange weight settled in your chest.

You didn’t even realize you were staring at your hands until Tim spoke.

“Hey.”

The sharpness in his voice cut through the haze. You blinked, finally looking up, and he was already watching you—brows drawn, head tilted just slightly. You hadn’t even noticed that the shop had pulled over to the side of the road.

“You’re here,” Tim said evenly, like he was reminding you of something obvious. “Stay here.”

You exhaled, shaking your head as if that could clear the static in your brain. With stiff movements, you reached for a napkin in the center console, scrubbing at your hands even though it wouldn’t do much good. Tim let you, didn’t say a word until your hands stopped shaking.

Then, after a long beat, he reached behind his seat and tossed you a fresh department hoodie.

“Put that on,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the road.

You hesitated, then pulled it over your uniform without question. The fabric was warm, heavy, grounding.

You weren’t sure if it actually helped, but somehow, you didn’t feel so lost anymore.

You pulled the hoodie over your uniform, the scent of worn fabric and faint cologne settling around you. It was grounding in a way you didn’t expect. But then, Tim reached over and—

His thumb swiped against your cheek.

You stiffened slightly, not because of the touch, but because of what he was wiping away.

Blood.

You hadn’t even realized it was on your face too.

Tim’s movements were calm, methodical. He pulled another napkin from the glove compartment, wetting it with his water bottle before dabbing at the smudges across your jawline. His touch was firm but not rough, like he knew you needed something tangible to focus on.

“You’re doing fine, kid,” he said, voice low, steady. “Stay with me.”

You nodded slowly, still silent, but compliant. Your breathing was shallow, but you matched the rhythm of his movements—each slow pass of the napkin against your skin, each flick of his eyes scanning for anything he missed.

When he was done, he studied you for a moment. His usual sharp, assessing gaze softened just slightly, like he was trying to gauge if you were still floating somewhere outside yourself.

“Talk to me,” he finally said.

Your lips parted, but no words came out at first. You swallowed, forcing out something—anything.

“I didn’t even feel it,” you admitted. “Didn’t notice the blood was there.”

Tim nodded, like that answer made sense. “That’s because you were running on instinct.” He tossed the used napkin into a small trash bag near the console. “It’s not a bad thing. It means you did your job.”

You let out a slow breath, feeling the weight in your chest shift—still heavy, but not suffocating.

Tim didn’t push for more. Instead, he rested his arm against the center console, glancing at you like he was about to say something but changed his mind. Then, after a beat—

“Let’s get some coffee.”

The abruptness of it almost made you laugh. Almost. But the offer was exactly what you needed—something normal, something routine, something that wasn’t blood and sirens and silence pressing in too hard.

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

Tim hummed in approval and put the shop in drive.

The coffee shop stayed quiet between you and Tim for a while, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Just… steady. Like the weight of the last call wasn’t pressing as hard anymore. Like you could actually breathe again.

Your coffee was still too hot to drink properly, but you held onto it anyway, fingers gripping the cup like it was some kind of lifeline. Tim didn’t comment on it. He just sat across from you, sipping his own, gaze flicking out the window every now and then, like he was still half on duty even while sitting down.

You let the silence sit a little longer before finally speaking. “So… you’ve done this before.”

Tim glanced back at you. “What?”

“This whole ‘walking someone out of a breakdown’ thing,” you said, raising a brow. “You’re kinda suspiciously good at it.”

Tim scoffed. “It’s not a breakdown.”

You gave him a look. “It was getting there.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve done it before.”

You nodded, waiting.

For a second, you thought he wouldn’t say anything else. But then, his fingers tapped lightly against the side of his coffee cup, and he spoke again.

“I had a T.O who did the same thing for me,” he said, voice lower now. “When I was a rookie, fresh out of the military. Thought I could handle anything.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

You blinked. Tim didn’t talk about himself much, and when he did, it was usually wrapped in sarcasm or some kind of tough-love lesson. But this—this was different.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

Tim exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Bad call. Domestic. Ended ugly.” His fingers flexed once against the cup before stilling. “My T.O. knew I was barely keeping it together after. Took me out for coffee, let me sit with it. Didn’t push, didn’t lecture—just reminded me that it wasn’t my job to carry it forever.”

You swallowed, watching him.

Tim glanced at you then, eyes sharp and knowing. “That’s what I’m doing for you.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling like he could see straight through you. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though even you weren’t convinced.

Tim’s brow lifted. “Sure. That’s why you haven’t taken a sip of that coffee yet.”

You scowled at him but finally lifted the cup and took a hesitant sip, more out of stubbornness than anything else. It was still too hot, and you made a face, setting it back down.

Tim smirked. “There. Progress.”

You rolled your eyes but felt the tightness in your chest ease just a little.

After a moment, Tim leaned back, stretching his shoulders. “You don’t get used to it, you know,” he said, voice softer. “The blood. The way people look at you when they realize you can’t fix everything. You just learn how to live with it.”

You nodded slowly. “And coffee helps?”

Tim shrugged, smirking slightly. “Doesn’t hurt.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, finally taking another sip of your drink. This time, you didn’t grimace.

The weight of the last call still lingered, but it wasn’t crushing you anymore. You weren’t fully back yet, but you were getting there.

And Tim—without making a big deal out of it—was making sure you didn’t have to get there alone.

The Perfect Eternity - Walt Deville Imagine (The Invitation)

Title: The Perfect Eternity

Pairing: Walt Deville X Reader

Word Count: 1,020 words

Warning(s): blood, injuries, blood drinking, mention of murder/hunting

Summary: (Y/n) and Walt have been together for a while now. After a coming home from a particularly rough hunting trip, (Y/n) decides they want to take the most important step for them both.

Author's Note: I feel like this idea has gotten wildly out of hand.

PART ONE HERE

PART TWO HERE

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I was tired.

Tired and sore and hurt. And maybe a little grumpy.

The hunt hadn't gone nearly as well as I had hoped.

I got there far later than I wanted. People had gotten killed that would've probably lived if I had just been a little bit faster. Then, some kid followed me and got hurt before I could stop the damn thing. He was left in a rough condition when I left but staying wasn't an option. Not to mention that I had gotten myself hurt.

It wasn't bad. Mostly bruises and small cuts. The worst was a deeper cut on my arm.

I had gotten back to the manor, showered, and dressed myself enough to be comfortable while dealing with my arm. I had found a place on the small couch in the all-too-large bedroom, a first aid kit sitting next to me.

Admittedly, I had been avoiding Walt.

He tended to overreact when I was hurt. He'd fuss over me. Make me lay in bed for days over what was my equivalent of a rolled ankle or a paper cut.

I adored him. I truly did. But I needed to just take care of this without hearing him worry about it.

I knew I had been caught when the door to the room opened.

Walt walked in, quietly closing the door. He had probably been expecting me to be asleep.

He stopped when he saw me on the couch.

"Hello, my love," he said. "I was expecting to meet you by the door."

"Sorry," I mumbled, still looking at my wound. "I needed to take care of this."

I heard his footsteps on the floor. "You know that you don't have to handle that on your own, don't you?"

"I can deal with it," I shrugged. "I did for years before I got here."

He slowly walked over before kneeling on the ground next to the couch.

He didn't start fussing over any of my injuries this time.

That made me slowly look up from my cleaning and attempts at bandaging.

His eyes were trained on my arm. Just watching it. Most of the bleeding had stopped on its own. Just a few drops forming on the wound. But I caught him. I don't think he was aware that I had.

"Come here," I instructed as I put my things down. He furrowed his eyebrows. I motioned him closer.

When he got close enough for me to reach, I cupped the side of his face and guided him toward my arm. He hesitated for a moment. I never expected that. I figured he would simply take what he wanted.

"It's okay, darling," I mumbled to him. "I trust you."

My eyes closed as soon as his tongue touched my arm. My free hand reached out to run through the hair on the nape of his neck.

He was oddly gentle. I never considered that possibility. I had yet to watch him truly feed. I had pictured something fast and animalistic. I was basing that assumption off of what I had seen from other vamps.

But Walt... Walt was so careful. Even as his mouth fully latched onto my arm, it all felt so intimate. This was an act of trust for him. An act of love.

It was for me too.

My chest swelled with affection at the small shock of pain in my skin.

I allowed myself to imagine a try eternity with him. With moments as intimate as these. How perfect a life like that would be. A life with him. He was all I wanted. I just needed to take the step to accept the love that was already there.

Walt pulled away on his own. Slowly. Sucking turned into gentle licks, which then turned to a gentle kiss laid on the wound.

I guided him to turn toward me. I admired him. Studied him.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

Most of us have tasted our blood in small amounts. We've all sucked on a paper cut or bitten our lip a little too hard. But this... This was overwhelming. Almost entrancing.

When Walt pulled away, a smile pulled at his lips. His fangs were on display. Proud display.

I smiled back at him, running my thumb along his cheekbone.

I took a deep breath before speaking, "Walt..."

"Yes, my love," he replied.

"I... I'm ready," I explained. His head tilted a bit. "I want to join you... forever. Properly."

He reached up and touched the hand that I had pressed to the side of his face.

"Are you certain that this is what you want," he asked.

I nodded. "I love you, Walt. More than I've loved anyone before. I... I want to do this."

His smile only grew before he lined forward and pressed his lips to mine again. I chuckled a bit at how sudden the movement was. The kiss was passionate and loving and all that I had wanted from a kiss before.

It was all about the next step.

I had considered everything that went into my decision.

My commitment to Walt, his commitment to me, just how long eternity could be, the risks of becoming one of the very things I hunted... all of it.

The one thing that I didn't consider was the benefits that my new abilities could offer when hunting.

All of the sudden, I was faster and stronger. I had built-in weapons now. I was more of a threat. Most monsters got spooked by a vamp hunter. Other vamps respected me. I respected them. Whether that was because of my turn or simply because of who my husband was, I didn't care.

I was better now. So much better.

But the hunting and the power and the respect... none of it truly mattered.

Because even without all of that, I still had Walt waiting at home for me. I had someone to pull me close, kiss me, hold me... someone that could love me and that I could love in return.

It was the definition of the perfect eternity.

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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.”

Mr. Barber’s Assistant | Andy Barber

Summary: After Jacob’s Trial everything had changed for Andy Barber. He lost his wife, he almost lost his job and his son. Nothing seemed right in his life. Nothing but YOU.

Word Count:  16,090 (Sorry kids, it’s a long one.) 

Warnings: Some Spoilers from Defending Jacob. Mentions of a car accident. Interoffice Romance. Brief mentions of a murder. unprotected sex, Multiple Point of Views. Boss|Assistant dynamic. Cursing. Mentions of cheating. Divorce. Mentions of being in the hospital. Laurie being a bitch. Neal being an asshole. Angry|Andy. pet names. Over protective Andy. Marking!Kink. Having a crush on your boss. Idiots in love with each other. keeping secrets. Mentions of Drinking. Self Doubt. Dirty Talk. Very Brief Hand job (if you squint.). fingering. Oral (f). edging (if you squint.). Consensual Sex. Regret. Second thoughts. Jealous Neal. Slightly possessive Andy. Brief Mention of Andy Getting Himself Off. Teasing. Mentions of Spanking. Mentions of mental health. Bipolar disorder. borderline personality disorder. Over protective Dad!Andy. Guilt about feeling happy. Toxic misogynistic male behavior. Some Ex-Wife Drama. Getting punched in the face.(PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING)

A|N: Hello! Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who reads this and or any of my stories. I hope you enjoy. please feel free to let me know your thoughts. Also I apologize for the length of this one I kind of got carried away. :) enjoy friends. (Pics for the moodboard came from pinterest. I do not own.)  

“Assistant District Attorney; Andy Barber?” a voice from behind you calls. You turn around to see a tall gentleman standing there behind you. There was silence for a minute before you spoke. “Mr. Logiudice, Mr. Barber is in a meeting with the DA.” you say, a firm tone in your voice. He smirked. Like you had just said something funny. Which you had not. “Doll, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Neal.” he stepped towards you.. The door to Andy’s Office swings open. Thank god. You exhale. “Leave her alone Neal, how many times do I have to TELL you…” Andy turns and gives you a flirty wink and nod. You couldn’t help but blush. You sit back behind your desk. Neal sighs, rolling his eyes. “Besides Neal, you’re not her type anyways.” he shoots a blue eyed gaze your way and you practically melt into your chair, biting your lip. 

You weren’t going to lie. You had a crush on the ADA… who didn’t? He was incredibly gorgeous, smart, powerful and sweet as hell, but don’t fuck with him. He didn’t take shit from anyone and everyone knew it. You’d been ADA Barber’s assistant for five years and well it had been a rough last couple of years for him, especially with his son’s trial, and the aftermath of it, his father, through getting divorced from his wife, the accident, the long nights spent at the hospital with Jacob in a coma. It had been a pretty fucked up time for Andy to put it midly. But through everything you always stuck by him, no matter what he needed you were there for him; you’d developed a pretty close friendship. and he never forgot what you’d done for him. 

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Falling Slowly

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

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

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

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

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

Picture from Pinterest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.

“I think we’ll have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call it in.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he answers bluntly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.

“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.

“Before what?”

“He can’t take it anymore.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.

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

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

“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s my mom?” she asks.

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

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

“Thank you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

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

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

“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

“Are you hit?” Tim asks.

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

“Do it. I got you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

“Ow. See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we do something?”

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

“Sorry,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

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

“Monday morning. So, rest up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.

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

✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.

“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.

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

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

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

Perfect Moments

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄 | requested here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: While decorating the tree with Tim, you reminisce on perfect moments until you find yourself in another.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, softie!Tim!! 0.8k+ words

“Did you purposely pick the hardest tree to decorate?” Tim complains as Christmas music fills the room.

“You picked this tree,” you remind him with a smile and a well-intentioned hip check.

“Because you liked it!”

“You mean because you love me.”

“Some days I really regret it.”

You exhale in faux hurt, then step back from the tree. “Looks good,” you decide with your hands on your hips. “Ready for ornaments?”

Tim nods. As he passes you, he kisses your temple. The song changes to “Snow Angel” before he returns, and you hum while you survey the tree, symbolizing a great year and the little life you’ve built with Tim.

“Here,” Tim says as he sets the container of ornaments on the coffee table. “I think we should start with this one."

You take his offered Hallmark ornament and smile. “I was terrified you wouldn’t like this,” you admit as you place it on the front of the tree. “Our relationship was so new, and I wanted something to remember our first Christmas, but had so many doubts about how well I knew you or how serious you were.”

“Wanna know a secret?” Tim whispers against your ear.

“Always.”

“I left it on my nightstand until March.”

“Such a softie,” you muse under your breath. “I take it back,” you add as Tim’s hands move toward your waist. “You’re a strong police officer and definitely not a big teddy bear.”

Tim rolls his eyes, still smiling, as he retrieves an ornament.

“Speaking of teddy bears,” he says. “I’m pretty sure this ornament was purchased because it reminded you of someone.”

“It’s you in ornament form and I’m sticking to that. The little flannel and the button heart? Absolutely reminds me of you.”

“Just get another ornament,” Tim deflects.

You laugh as you open a box. “Remember this guy?” you inquire as Anson Seabra sings, You’re my snow angel. Don’t let me go, angel.

“Remind me?” Tim asks.

Smiling, you know Tim remembers the Dodgers bulldog ornament. He picked it out during a shopping trip last Christmas because the dog was colored like Kojo and repping his favorite baseball team. When you got home, Tim took it out of the box to hang on the tree, then pulled you close to ask your opinion on where it should go. Kojo took Tim’s affection as an invitation to join you and walked through a tangled string of lights to join your side. Before you could stop Kojo and free him, he circled your legs and pulled you against Tim, knocking the ornament out of his hands. It should have broken, but it didn’t. You took that as a good sign.

“I might have a better one,” Tim says.

You walk to his side and smile at the hand-painted ornament. The pencil line separating the even halves is barely visible past the paint. Your impromptu home date night earlier in the year involved working together to create something beautiful without being able to see what the other person painted. The resulting ornament is one of your favorites.

“This is yours,” you comment as you pass Tim an ornament from his sister. “And this is mine.”

Your ornaments have slowly made their way in together, and it no longer feels like your decorations or Tim’s, but your shared memories and an opportunity to reminisce together for many Christmases to come.

“I’ll grab another,” Tim offers as you search for the perfect branch.

You nod and continue looking, then place the painted ornament next to the Dodgers bat ornament. Tim offers his hand, and you take the ornament from him without looking. Immediately, you know the square velvet item in your hand is not an ornament, but you don’t expect to see a ring box when you turn toward Tim to ask what it is.

Tim smiles up at you from his one-kneed position. With the song, he says, “I won’t ask for anything. No shiny toys or fancy things. ‘Cause I got everything I need with you here next to me. We’ve spent Christmas together, bad days and good days and all the mundane days in between, but they’re all special with you. I don’t want to just reminisce at Christmas, I want to make every single day a memory with you by my side. Will you marry me?”

You nod, the ornaments reflecting the Christmas lights blurring as your eyes grow teary. “Yes, Tim!” you answer.

Tim stands and pulls you into a kiss, then steps back to slide the ring on your finger.

“I actually do have another ornament for you to put up,” Tim says as you admire the perfect ring.

He passes you a silver box, and you extract the personalized ornament. It’s made to look like you, Tim, and Kojo are snowmen, and it says, She Said Yes with the year engraved beneath.

“You really thought of everything,” you muse. “Where should we put it?”

“Front and center,” Tim answers.

“Isn’t that where the mistletoe goes?” you joke, hanging the ornament in plain view.

“Who needs mistletoe?”

You don’t answer before Tim – your fiancé – pulls you into a kiss that warms you from the inside out while twinkling lights and merry music surround yet another perfect moment.

Charlie Gets Over the Waitress (charlie kelly x afab reader oneshot)(SMUT!)

*it’s always sunny intro music plays*

pairing: charlie kelly x afab! reader (gender neutral up until the cut i’m pretty sure)

tags: smut!, age difference mentioned but vague (mostly just for a bit with dennis lmao i couldn’t resist), slight size difference, very cliche and weak plot, charlie has soft dom vibes, praise, slight possessiveness, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, some dirty talk, some fluff

i tried to make the intro kinda read like a typical iasip episode. the nsfw starts after the cut! this story is very self-indulgent lmao but thanks for reading!

charlie comes into the bar one day where dennis and mac, who were bored out of their minds, turn their heads to greet him. dennis was behind the bar while mac sat in front of him nursing a beer.

“nice of you to show up for work, charlie,” dennis says dryly. but as charlie sits down on a stool with a small pout, dennis knows exactly why he’s been gone all day so far. “been catching up with the waitress again, huh?” dennis guesses, putting charlie’s stalking problem lightly. charlie huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, confirming his suspicions.

“man, you’ve got to get over that girl.” mac chimes in.

“yeah, she’s crazy.” dennis scoffs.

“and not even that hot..” mac adds.

“ugh, shut up.” charlie interrupts them and buries his head in his arms on the counter. after a pause, he speaks again, his voice muffled and soft. “i know.. i know i have to get over her.” charlie agrees, taking his friends by surprise. not that they cared that much..

“you know, maybe you could try finding someone else? someone who actually likes you back. or at least, like, get laid.” mac suggests and dennis nods, neither of them really thinking much of the comment or expecting charlie to change his ways. but mac’s words make charlie pause.

“maybe.. you’re right.” charlie lifts his head up, a gleam in his eyes all of a sudden as he looks between dennis and mac. as if they’re reading his mind, they instantly try to backtrack, talking over each other and saying no. charlie interrupts them again.

“no, no guys! you’ve got to help me. set me up on a date!” charlie stands up now and approaches mac and dennis enthusiastically, giving a desperate look to both of them.

“bro..” mac sighs, hanging his head in his hand in exasperation.

“no way, charlie. it was just a suggestion.” dennis shakes his head. the two men are clearly not interested. they share a look, both of them thinking it would be nearly impossible to get any sane person to date charlie.

“oh, come on!” charlie yells, gesturing wildly with his arms. “i.. i’ll..” he stammers, trying to think of something he could do to reward them. “i’ll give you guys the week off. i’ll do all the work, including charlie work.” he finally promises, looking between them hopefully.

mac gives another dramatic sigh while dennis looks annoyed, but thoughtful.

“fine. i’m in.” mac says, standing from his seat.

“fine. but this better work,” dennis huffs, coming around the bar to point sternly at charlie. “you have to promise us that this is worth our time, that you’re actually going to try and get over that waitress.”

“i promise!” charlie celebrates as soon as they accept, pumping his fists in the air as his two friends head toward the front door of the pub. “oh yeah! just come find me whenever you got the goooods. i’ll be here.” he smiles and does finger guns at them, trying and failing to act cool. dennis grimaces, the weight of their task starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

“right, just.. take a shower or something, charlie.” he grumbles on the way out, slamming the door. but charlie doesn’t care at all about how irritated his friends are with him. all he’s thinking about is possibly getting lucky tonight. it wouldn’t be the waitress.. but for once a distraction, at least, is welcome.

“where the hell are we going to find someone crazy enough to go on a date with charlie? he’s a freak!” mac yells as he and dennis get in the range rover. “seriously, i love the dude. but anybody could spot that a mile away.”

“i don’t know, man. just forget about the ‘charlie’ of it all for now. we’ll go on the prowl, find ourselves a candidate and butter ‘em up. then we can throw them at charlie and just hope things work out somehow.” dennis suggests with a shrug. “sure, we’ll do our best. but we’re not miracle workers. we just gotta look for someone desperate. or stupid. or both, preferably.” he sighs. being able to find a serious companion for charlie didn’t even cross his mind as a possibility. “if all else fails, i’ll get frank to buy him a hooker or something.”

with that, they head to the mall and decide to pop into the first trendy clothing store they see. dennis scans the area for potential options while mac follows. “just leave it to me, buddy. i know exactly how to find the person we’re looking for.” he says with his typical air of superiority, both of them trying to act casual as they pass through the clothing. they wander around for a bit, but then, dennis spots one person in particular.

“ah, ah, ah. i think we might have a candidate,” he stops mac and leans in close for only him to hear, pointing at someone who was minding their own business looking through the t-shirts. “not bad, a little on the plain side. but i think that’s exactly what we want, way higher chance of being desperate. plus, they’re here all alone, probably lonely.” dennis analyzes them as if he was a genius, but really he was just being creepy and making assumptions. but mac, of course, goes along with it without question, looking impressed.

“man, you are good! they look a little young, though..”

“even better,” dennis comments, almost forgetting he wasn’t the one looking for a date. mac gives him a look. dennis clears his throat and quickly clarifies. “naive.” mac’s stern expression softens and he nods thoughtfully in understanding. with that, they approach.

“hi there,” dennis gives a charming grin. “i’m dennis. this is my buddy, mac.” he introduces him and mac and you look at them, a little confused.

“um, hello. i’m (y/n),” you reply, waiting for them to say what they’re approaching you for. dennis breaks the silence.

“ah, nice to meet you, (y/n). beautiful name. well, me and my friend here just wanted to say hi. we were both saying how good-looking you are, right mac?”

“right! you’re super hot-” dennis elbows his side. “i mean, uh, attractive!” mac gives a big smile, both of them pausing to see how you react. this is the real test. if you fall for this, you might just give charlie a chance.

“r-really?” not used to this kind of attention, your lips curl into a bashful smile, looking a little like a schoolgirl. the boys’ eyes light up. this is what they want to see.

“oh, yeah. most beautiful in the mall, hands down,” dennis winks, turning up the charm. “but hey.. listen, we’ve got a good friend named charlie. he’s been having a real rough time trying to get over this one girl. he’s a real sweetheart, and it hurts seeing him so down, you know?”

falling for the sympathy card, you frown. “oh, that’s horrible..” you reply.

“right? it sucks.. but we were thinking it might be nice to set him up with a date, get his mind off things. show him that there’s other fish in the sea, so to speak,” mac continues, easing you into their true purpose here. “would you be willing to meet him?”

your eyes widen, not expecting the request. a date for yourself was long overdue, not to mention whoever this mystery man was that they spoke of. and it’s not like you had anything better to do. and hey, if you didn’t like him you could back out, right? after considering for a moment, you slowly nod. “yeah, i guess so. why not?”

with that, the three of you leave the mall, going to a hole-in-the-wall bar they apparently own in south philly called paddy’s pub. you all walk in, and when you don’t immediately see charlie the two men instruct you to sit in a booth while they go find him.

but when dennis walks into the office, he finds charlie sitting behind the desk flipping through photos on a camera. dennis already has a feeling he knows what he’s doing, but charlie’s suspicious jump when he comes into the room says all he needs to know.

“what are you looking at there, charlie?” dennis asks pointedly, putting his hands on his hips.

mac comes in behind him. “what, what’s he got?”

“nothing!” charlie says quickly. “it’s nothing, man, just some random pictures. nothing special-“ he tries to brush it off before dennis snatches the camera away and quickly flips through the photos to see blurry, far-away photos of what looked to be the waitress. not even bothering to give charlie the benefit of the doubt, too annoyed after trying to find a date for him, he storms out of the room completely giving up.

“well, i’m sorry, but this man is a lost cause!” dennis rages while charlie gets up in a panic and follows him into the bar, not even processing yet that dennis was talking to someone else. mac rolls his eyes and goes to pour himself another beer.

“hey, hey, wait man! it’s not what it looks like!” charlie yells after him, lying poorly as he tries to get the camera back. that’s when his eyes catch you sitting in the booth. he stops and stares, forgetting all about the pictures for a moment, taking immediate interest.

“listen here, this man stalks the girls he likes. and that position is already filled. sorry to waste your time.” dennis announces to you, his anger pointed at charlie.

you just sit there, completely confused and unable to do anything but watch the chaos unfold.

“hey! i’m not a stalker, and l-let’s not jump to conclusions, man!” charlie tries his best to backtrack what dennis has unveiled, caring about your impression of him despite not even knowing you. stalking tendencies he may have had, but now that he’s looking at you it could be that that ‘position’ dennis spoke of just opened up.

as this strange interaction goes on before your eyes, you study the shorter man. he’s really handsome. definitely weird, a little disheveled. but funny, animated. cute. you probably should be running away, but the seriousness of their conversation starts to go right over your (possibly sick) head.

“you can stalk me if you want. i don’t mind,” you blurt out in a flirty, joking sort of way, looking right at charlie with a smile. this makes everyone in the room take pause. dennis eyes you incredulously as if he’s realizing you’re crazy. mac just raises his eyebrows and takes a swig of his drink. but charlie, he looks strangely flattered.

“really? i mean! i-i.. you got it all wrong. i’m not a stalker,” charlie says, raising his hands up at his sides.

“he is.” mac and dennis say in unison, making charlie grit his teeth.

“would you get out of here?!” he snaps. mac and dennis actually listen and head towards the door, not knowing what to think but happy that their job is over.

“see you in a week, bud.” mac says before the door to the bar slams. you just watch, not thinking much of it before turning your attention back to charlie.

“charlie, right? i’m (y/n).”

“uh..yeah, hi (y/n).” he replies, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward sort of way. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to..” he mumbles, not expecting you to want to be anywhere near him after hearing about his problems. he glances in your direction, wanting to kick himself for ruining another potential relationship. for some reason the waitress falls off of his mind when he looks at you.

“i’d like to stay. i think you’re cute.” you reply, making his ears turn rosy. “is that okay?”

“u-uh, um..” his eyes widen and it takes him a second to recover, not expecting this response at all. “y-yeah! that’s fine.. great, actually. would you, uh, would you like a drink? on me.” he smiles, remembering his manners and getting a sudden burst of joy now that his plan is actually coming to fruition. maybe he’ll be able to get over the waitress after all. and if not, maybe he’ll have a good night this with new person anyway.

you tell him your drink of choice and he makes it for you, taking a beer himself. he sits down across from you at the booth and you get to talking, the conversation flowing easily between you, an instant chemistry blooming. you both just met, but right off the bat there is a lot he really likes about you, and you can say the same for him. you like his scruffy beard and his smile. you like his quirky demeanor. the way his eyes brighten when he laughs and the expressiveness he has when he talks. his fluffy hair. and his hands. they’re soft yet manly. you start to imagine what they would feel like on you. this leads to wondering what he’s like in bed. he is a goofy sort of guy, but something tells you that he knows what he’s doing.

and as the alcohol blooms in your systems, these kinds of thoughts start to dominate both of your minds. you’re both starting to slur your words and giggle at everything. someway or another, you start comparing your heights.

“well, you know, i’m shorter than dennis and mac.. they always call me a little guy.” he says, shrugging. neither of you know how you got to this topic.

“how tall are you? i wanna see,” you say, suddenly getting out of your seat and motioning him to follow. you make him stand right in front of you, putting your hand on top of your head and moving it towards him to see where it lands.

“you’re taller than me.” you say with a small smile, your face inches away from his. oh, he likes that. he just nods. then you reach for his arm and start to compare your hand to his. hand to hand, your fingertips barely reach the first knuckles of his fingers. he swallows hard.

“you’re a little pipsqueak, aren’t you?” he smirks, teasing you. you pout slightly but he continues before you can reply. “don’t deny it. i’m one of the smallest guys i know. and you, my friend, don’t even compare.” he chuckles, enjoying the soft blush that colors your cheeks.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” you roll your eyes, looking away.

“you’re cute.” he says.

“i am?”

“mhm.”

your hands still connected, he slowly interlocks your fingers. when you look at him he’s looking right into your eyes. his mind is running wild with all the thoughts of what he wants to do with you. to do to you. and by the look in your eyes, you feel the same. but he wants to hear you admit it first.

“whatcha thinking about?” he asks in a nonchalant way, a teasing look in his eye as he watches your face.

“i want to kiss you.”

“oh?” he raises his eyebrows playfully, pretending to be shocked. “how much have you had to drink?” he jokes as if you weren’t both knee deep in liquor.

“just- just a couple..” you pout again, the buzz making you easily embarrassed.

“you’re so cute.” he repeats with a laugh. this time, he brings his free hand up to your cheek as if he couldn’t resist.

“please?” you murmur when he doesn’t immediately kiss you. he smirks at this, before giving you a nod.

____________________________________________

he leans in, connecting your lips with his. it’s gentle, soft, and warm. your linked hands disconnect, his going to your waist while yours go around his shoulders, the action bringing your bodies closer together. feeling your curves underneath his hands and pressing against his body, he growls lightly and kisses you deeper.

things heat up fast, he’s walking you backwards until your butt meets the booth table, and he’s helping you to hop up and sit on it. one hand plants itself on your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs so he can step between them and be all that much closer to you.

you break the kiss only to catch your breath. his free hand goes up to tangle in your hair while his mouth purposefully moves from your lips to your jawline and down your neck, angling you to give him better access. you’re beginning to think that your earlier suspicions about him are dead-on.

you let out a gasp as he sucks the sensitive skin beneath your ear into his mouth, nibbling there and leaving a small mark. he does the same around your pulse point, copying the action at multiple areas until you’re breathless and practically grinding against him.

“pretty,” he murmurs as he pulls away and admires his work, his voice taking on a husky quality that makes your stomach flip. he pulls away from your neck and his fingertips tease just beneath the hem of your shirt as he looks down at your flushed face.

“can i?”

you nod. he slides his palms underneath the fabric, feeling your soft skin as he helps you out of your shirt, tossing it aside. he sucks in a breath when he sees you in your lacy bra, before helping you out of that next.

freed from the fabric, your breasts spill out and into view. you shiver slightly, your nipples already hardening in the cool air.

he stares, entranced for a moment, licking his lips. his fingers twitch with the urge to touch but he forces himself to hold off, a mission in mind.

“i wanna see all of you.” his eyes flit back to yours, silently asking your approval, to which you nod eagerly once again.

with that, he moves to undo the button and zipper of your jeans in a flash, helping you lift your hips and wiggle out of them. when he catches sight of your panties, the gusset already damp with arousal, he bites back a groan.

“fuck, (y/n),” he rasps before bringing a hand to tease you through the thin fabric. you let out a whimper when his thumb catches your clit, and he looks like he can barely contain himself from devouring you whole right then and there. his other hand cups one of your tits, tweaking the nipple between his fingertips as your hips start to grind into his hand.

“you’re so responsive,” he chuckles softly, almost in amazement. he can hardly believe that this is all happening. you’re so sexy. you almost make him forget about his own needs, his cock hard and straining against his jeans. “feel good?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, in shambles already. he can tell you want, need more. and oh, he’s going to give it to you.

he leans in and presses a kiss to each breast before kissing down your stomach. to your surprise he kneels, now face-level with your clothed pussy.

“charlie..” you whine, the sight of him so close to where you need him most driving you crazy. you feel shy and desperate all at once.

he just hums in response, spreading your legs wider and beginning to plant soft kisses up your inner thighs, alternating between them. they’re meant to soothe but they just rile you up even more. you can feel his beard lightly scratching your skin on the way and it makes you nearly tremble with need.

this continues until he reaches your center, where he kisses at either side of your panties. you whine again and he grins to himself, satisfied, before finally taking the waistband between his fingers and pulling the last thing that’s covering you down your legs, revealing your soaked slit.

he takes hold of your legs, guiding them to rest over his shoulders and he brings a hand up to your pussy, gently spreading you out with his thumb. you can feel his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh before he gives you what you want.

his lips meet your cunt, his warm tongue sampling your wetness with one broad lick from bottom to top. you shudder at the sudden contact, letting out a gasp. he takes a firm hold of your hips, holding you in place before devouring you with gusto. lewd sounds fill the air along with your moans. he alternates between pressing his tongue inside you and sucking your clit, swirling his tongue around it in a way that makes your hips buck and your hands grip the table for dear life.

fuck, he could eat you out all night. listen to the sounds you make, savor your sweetness, feel you grind against his face. but that wouldn’t help the throbbing happening in his pants. getting a little selfish, he decides to move things along in a way he knows you won’t complain.

at the same time he draws your clit between his lips, he shifts slightly. bringing a hand down, he traces a finger between your folds, wetting the digit in your abundant slick before pushing in slowly but surely. you nearly squeak from the sudden combination of his mouth and fingers, your back arching off the table.

he soon adds another finger and pumps them in and out. when his fingers curl upwards and graze that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a high-pitched cry and begin to tighten. you’re getting close. he lifts his head for a moment, still fingering you steadily.

“(y/n),” he breathes, pupils dilating as he takes in your blissful state, head lolled back and skin flushed with pleasure. “can you cum twice for me?” he asks, eager to push you over the edge.

you look down at him, the hunger in his eyes and the evidence of your arousal on his lips nearly making you finish right there. you nod, mouth dry.

“good.” he hums, eyes flitting down to watch your pussy soak his fingers before looking back up at you. “want you to cum on my fingers and then on my cock. sound good?” he asks, making your head spin.

“yes, please,” you reply breathlessly. his fingers start to fuck you faster and deeper.

“mm,” he just grunts, biting his lip as if in a trance as he savors the sight of you before diving back in.

his lips pull your clit back into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers fuck you open. it doesn’t take you long at all to reach the edge, his name on your lips and your hands in his hair.

“oh fuck, charlie-” you whimper, your thighs quivering on either side of his head. he groans his approval against your pussy, the vibrations making your eyes roll back, and drapes a firm arm over your pelvis to keep you in place.

before you know it you’re moaning uncontrollably and writhing on the table as your orgasm crashes over you. he continues to stroke your fluttering walls and gently lap and suckle at your clit, letting you ride it out, in no rush at all. when you finally settle, he pulls back to see the aftermath.

he gently pulls out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to clean them off before getting to his feet and leaning forward against the table, hovering over you.

“all good?” he asks, confidence clear in his voice as he takes in your dazed expression.

“absolutely.”

he grins. “you taste delicious,” he watches with satisfaction as you blush. “ready for more?”

you’re a bit winded, but still beyond aroused. “yes.”

he starts to undo his pants, but when he’s about to pull them down he pauses, looking down at you.

“are you comfortable?” he asks randomly.

you’re laying on a cheap bar table, so the answer is probably obvious. but you don’t really care about that sort of thing at a time like this.

“i’m okay.” you reply. but he clicks his tongue, not convinced.

“nah, come on. get up.” he instructs, taking you by the waist and guiding you up.

once you’re on your feet again, he sits down in the booth. you watch as he shimmies his pants and boxers down.

“c’mere.” he calls, motioning you over. and god, he looks sexy.

you do as he says, not really knowing what his plan is. but as he helps you to straddle his lap, you understand.

“there you go. perfect.” he murmurs, his encouragement in that soft, raspy voice making you melt. his hands find your hips, kneading lovingly at them before bringing one hand down to position himself underneath you.

“ready?” he grins, his eyes sparkling as they meet yours.

“mhm,” you nod, your breath catching a bit when you feel the head of his cock seek out your entrance.

“good girl, just let me in.” he coos as you start to lower yourself onto him. the praise makes your pussy flutter around him briefly and he bites back a growl at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

eventually you sink all the way down and he bottoms out deep inside of you. the stretch, the fullness, it’s divine. you can feel every ridge, every vein, every curve molding your insides into his unique shape. you curse softly, savoring the feeling as you melt against him, your hands going to shoulders for support.

charlie feels your cunt pulse around him again and he groans. “god, you’re so sensitive aren’t you?” he teases, though he’s genuinely a bit amazed at how well you’re milking him already.

you nod with a light pout, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. he’s not sure how you look so cute at a time like this. “you feel so good,” you whimper, rolling your hips on his lap. he chuckles at this, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

charlie’s content with letting you grind and cockwarm him like this, enjoying the feeling of himself deep inside of you. but the more selfish side of him wants to push you a bit, see how much you can take. plus, he doesn’t know if he can control himself much longer if you don’t move.

“i know, i know.. but, i believe we had a deal..” his lips curve into a small smirk as his eyes dance with yours. “you want to cum on my cock, don’t you?” he asks bluntly. you didn’t think you could get more turned on but you stood (or sat??) corrected.

“..yes.” you nod shyly. he chuckles lowly again and grabs your hips more purposefully.

“then ride me, baby. c’mon, i’ll help you.” he coaxes sweetly, his hands gently urging you to move. when you do, lifting your hips and sinking back down in one smooth motion, both of you moan. “fuck, that’s it. tight, wet, perfect little pussy..” he mutters between gritted teeth as his head falls back, his composure faltering.

as you build up the pace mewls fall past your lips. he lets you ride him by yourself for a little while, enjoying watching your tits bounce and your hair fall in your face before he can’t resist stepping in, unable to resist the urge to fuck you any longer. and so he starts to help you up and down, meeting your downward motions with his own upward thrusts. you gasp sharply, knowing instantly you won’t last long at this rate.

“that good?” charlie bites out cockily between panting breaths. he knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it.

“god, yes.” you reply quickly, your face scrunching up from the pleasure. when you tighten around him he knows he’s on the right track, a primal, determined gleam in his eye as you start to fall apart. his cock twitches at the thought of you convulsing around him.

“can you rub your clit for me?” he asks.

“y-yeah..”

“go on.”

you reach down to do as he says, and this combined with him fucking up into you makes you see stars. your breath hitches and you let out a series of pornographic noises. you’re climbing rapidly to your peak for the second time of the night.

“mm, you look like heaven..” charlie rasps, his eyes raking over you greedily, so lost in pleasure and taking it so well. there’s no way he’s letting you go after this. “let go for me, baby. you can do it, i know you can.” he encourages, snapping his hips up a bit faster.

your fingers dig into his shoulder as you reach the edge. you cum with a broken cry and a string of curses and his name, riding it out until your head falls forward into the crook of his neck and you’re panting for breath, your arms wrapping around him as your orgasm settles.

“perfect, so perfect,” he grunts, still pulling you up and down on his cock. it was his turn to reach his peak, and he earned it. you whine into his neck, overstimulated and officially brainless, and he gently soothes you, contradicting the way he’s absolutely wrecking you. “shh, sweetness, it’s okay. just a little longer, you can take it.” he whispers, his voice turning to a low, possessive growl as he continues. “so fucking tight around me, jesus.. made for me..”

he fucks you a bit longer, mumbled words of praise and filth slipping out between grunts of pleasure. the veins in his neck pop out and his grip on your hips becomes tight enough to leave bruises. but soon he tenses up, cursing as he buries himself to the hilt one final time and finishes.

“fuck..” he pants as he comes down from his high, his hands immediately softening on your sides. his arms wrap around you and his lips graze your temple. “you okay?”

“mm..” you just hum, completely satisfied and exhausted.

“what’s that?” his lips quirk upwards, pulling back to look at your face. he’s looking for a full answer.

“i’m more than okay.” you tell him.

“good. same here.” there’s a gleam in his eyes as he looks at you, affection in his gaze. he didn’t want to let you go, but you couldn’t exactly stay like this in the middle of paddy’s pub. “let’s get you dressed and home safe, m’kay?”

he taps your hip gently, helping you off of his lap. he tries hard not to stare at the mess of your juices and his cum between your legs, the sight nearly making him hard all over again. he slips his pants back on and stands, finding your articles of clothing scattered on the floor and handing each to you.

once you’re dressed he walks you to your apartment which happened to not be that far away. at your door, both of you pause.

“you, uh.. you have a number or something?” charlie asks you, leaning against your doorframe. you smile and nod, pulling out a scrap of paper from your bag and writing it for him. he takes it and puts it in his pocket.

“alright, cool, well.. goodnight, (y/n)..” he smiles back, but doesn’t immediately move to leave. neither do you move to head inside your apartment. instead, you frown slightly, unwilling to say goodbye.

“would you want to stay the night?” you ask, looking at him hopefully.

“really?” a night away from his crappy futon sounds great, and the idea of sharing a bed with such a lovely companion instead of frank for once sounds heavenly. you nod and he happily accepts with a “hell yeah!”

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.

Strong Enough

0.8k+ fluffy words of Karadec getting fed up and proving you wrong. (it's not a prank blurb but it is a from a trend so I'm tagging it the same!)

The Major Crimes unit is silent. It’s disturbing and unsettling, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat while waiting for someone to make a noise.

“Is Soto back?” Oz whispers.

Daphne shakes her head no, then taps her mouse to check if the computers are back up. “We’re still dark,” she replies softly. “So… what’s the worst date you’ve been on recently?”

You don’t have to see Karadec to know he’s rolling his eyes. Still, you smile at the distraction and move closer to Oz and Daphne’s back-to-back desks.

“I haven’t been on one in a while,” Oz says. “But a few months back, she asked me to get her an Uber to her backup date.”

“Oh, no,” Daphne exclaims with a laugh.

“That’s awful,” you agree. “She didn’t have to tell you where she was going.”

“No, she really felt like she needed to,” he explains. “What about you, Daph?”

“Went on a second date with a guy and he asked what kind of wine I wanted and then ordered something completely different.”

“Don’t tell me he pulled the I’m paying and I’m sure you’ll like it,” you ask, pinching your brows sympathetically.

“Better. He told me that my palette wasn’t refined and offered to help with that.”

“Gross,” you and Oz respond simultaneously.

“I went on a date last week, and he offered me his jacket,” you offer.

“That’s sweet,” Oz argues.

“It didn’t fit, so he asked if I was working to lose any weight so I could wear his clothes if things got serious.”

Daphne’s jaw drops as her brows rise, and Oz shakes his head.

“Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever dated a guy whose clothes I could wear. Let alone one who could lift me or anything. I’m not sure they exist in my circle.”

Karadec scoffs, and you turn in your seat to look at him.

“What?” you inquire.

“Nothing, just working,” he answers, opening a file.

“Sure. What’s the worst date you’ve been on?”

“Nothing as bad as this moment.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” you stage-whisper over your shoulder to Daphne.

“You work with cops, there’s fifteen gyms within a mile radius,” Karadec explains, “so you must be choosing the wrong men.”

“Okay, one, the cops I actually work with day-to-day are mostly desk jockeys. No offense, Oz.”

“None taken,” he interjects.

“And two, Karadec, I’m not going to go hang out beside a gym to get some testosterone-fueled meathead just because he can pick me up. I’m saying realistically, naturally, in everyday life, I don’t know anyone who could just romantically manhandle me for the sake of it.”

“Romantically manhandle?” Morgan repeats, incredulous, as she enters the bullpen. “What am I interrupting?”

“Detective over here thinks there are no men in Los Angeles who could lift her onto their shoulder,” Karadec explains flatly.

“Ooh, like the video?” Morgan inquires, pulling a chair to your side. “Ava has shown me a few, they’re cute. Not so much when the scrawny-armed boys don’t succeed, but still.”

“We’re not going to get any work done today, are we?” Karadec inquires.

“Not with Soto busy and the system down,” Daphne reminds him. “So, try to let loose for a few minutes, would you?”

“You really don’t know anyone who could do it?” Morgan asks.

“Nope,” you answer. “Not for lack of trying, contrary to what Karadec will tell you.”

“Tell her about the jacket guy,” Oz encourages.

Karadec stands and gestures for you to do the same.

“Fine, we’ll change the subject,” you sigh.

“Stand up,” he demands.

Morgan moves her seat back as you stand, and Karadec steps closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, bends slightly, and then your feet are off the floor. You clutch his wrist at your side as he effortlessly lifts you onto his shoulder. From the elevated position, you look down at him with wide eyes.

Carefully, Karadec lowers you back to the floor and removes his hand from your side. He raises his hands to his sides and asks, “Happy now?”

Before you can answer him, Lieutenant Soto returns.

“Are workplace crushes frowned upon?” you ask her.

“Shut up,” Karadec grumbles as he returns to his desk and retrieves hand sanitizer from his drawer.

“What did I miss?” Soto asks, looking between you and Karadec.

“Oh, we can’t explain what just happened,” Oz muses.

“Luckily, I filmed it,” Daphne announces, raising her phone.

“You did not,” Karadec snaps, spinning to face her.

“She did!” Morgan answers, smiling brightly, as she watches the screen over Daphne’s shoulder. “And right… there is the moment she falls in love.”

Karadec shakes his head, and you murmur, “I was kidding. I know it doesn’t mean anything.”

He tips his head to the left, then nods and reboots his computer. “Of course not,” he replies, though it’s the least convincing you’ve ever heard him sound.

✰ f!reader x gojo ✰ actor!gojo, dryhumping, (semi)public sex (??) ++ based off this post i made.. raise ur hand if ur also freaky about gojo 🙇‍♀️🙋‍♀️ wc: 1.8k ✰

“god, i want you so bad.”

satoru reads out his line to you, his voice loud but only slightly muffled against the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. you roll your head back in response, letting it thump against the pillow underneath you as you looked up at the ceiling.

although, the sight you’re met with when you do— the sight of a large microphone hanging just a few feet above your bodies —only serves to remind you that this is all for show. a scene in a movie. you opt to close your eyes and tighten your grip on the back of his head instead.

with your mouth hanging open, it’s easy to huff out a few pants and soft moans, doing as was directed for the character you’re meant to be playing after all. you know very well satoru’s doing the same for his own character— but there’s an additional component to the scene, one that only you know of.

the additional component is hiding below the bedsheets draped over your partially nude bodies— unbeknownst to the entire crew on set —pressing against your clothed crotch and growing inside his own pants the longer he nips at your neck.

you moaned his name, arching your back into his touch. letting him know you felt him.

there’s a brief moment— a blissful moment —where you forget you’re both supposed to be filming a sex scene. not until he hoists himself up, hovering himself over your body and staring down at you with stormy eyes; what’s normally a clear blue sky in his irises was now clouded by lust.

it’s not until you spot the bright studio lights shining above him that you’re reminded where you both are.

“are you ready?” he asks you, as per the script. when he speaks he bends down to nip at your jawline and his hands move underneath the sheets, trailing sensually across your torso. he lifts his head back up and bites his lip, waits for your nod, and then he slowly sinks his full body weight onto yours once again. reaching his hand down in between your bodies, he mimics the act of himself gripping his own cock and lining it up with your entrance before slowly sinking into you. the cameras zero in on this momentous part of the whole scene.

what he does next is… not part of the script.

with the hand currently hovering between his body and yours, he presses it forward, cupping your mound through the fabric of your clothing (thin nude-colored tights, meant to blend in with your skin tone— even coupled with your underwear underneath it makes just the smallest barrier between his fingers and where you think his fingers should actually be).

his touch is featherlight at first, tracing the outline of your underwear and gradually applying more pressure as he reaches your slit. he massages his index and middle finger up and down over your cunt, making a V-shape to trail them both along your folds before bending his wrist further and applying pressure to your clit with his thumb, eliciting a genuine gasp out of you.

he bites his lip again, but this time it’s to bite back the smirk threatening to take over his expression. he starts to lift his hips up just a little before bringing them back down, simulating the act of him thrusting inside of you— meanwhile his fingers don’t let up on your clit below the sheets.

completely hidden from the cameras.

your eyelids flutter, and a moan slips past your lips before you can rationally consider it. the timing actually worked out perfectly for the scene, though; in the corner of your eye, you’re sure you just saw the director nodding his head at you.

satoru continues rubbing you through your tights, picking up his pace right as your own breathing starts to pick up as well. if he were to press his thumb any harder against your cunt he’d be able to feel the wetness already pooling up; it would probably soak through the fabric a little bit and coat the pad of his thumb with your scent.

your jaw goes slack and satoru moans at the sight— but whether or not he’s still in character is unknown to you by this point.

“fuck— you feel s’good,” he moans out, letting up on his ministrations to plant his hands flat on each side of your shoulders. you whined softly in protest at the absence of his touch before he pressed himself even closer to you. shaky hands move up to grip onto his biceps for purchase just as his head falls into the crook of your neck, his mouth open against your skin with every hot pant he exhales. his hard bulge lands directly on top of your crotch and pulls tandem moans from you two.

it’s at this point that his character would probably be expected to pick up his pace, but you’ve completely given up on keeping track of the scene by now. satoru starts to move his hips at a steadier rhythm, only now he’s actually grinding himself into your heat. the bed frame starts to rock against the set wall with his movements, and you can both feel and hear how heavily he breathes— he’s certain to ensure the microphones pick up on it, too.

“satoru, god—“ you moaned out, digging your nails into his arms and squeezing your eyes shut. he grinds his clothed cock against your cunt, whimpering every time he feels the friction of his movements against you on his already-leaky tip.

there’s a temporary moment where his hips stutter, the grinding sensation feeling too good for his brain to keep up, and you feel him press his head deeper into your neck. his teeth sink into your skin to ground himself, sucking hard at the pulse point on your neck and leaving red indents with how hard he bites you, making you cry out his name once more.

(you count your lucky stars that the character he’s playing has the same name as him, because you’re not sure you’d be able to moan the correct name for filming had they been different.)

“fuuuck, fuck—“ he whines, his voice loud enough for the mic to hear. he lifts his head up to take a look at your expression— how you furrow your brows, your mouth hanging open indefinitely for the symphony of noises he’s pulling from you, the flutter in your eyelids when you open them to meet his gaze.

he smirks again and slows down his pace to a sensual grind, rolling his hips in circles and huffing out a chuckle when your head lolls back once more.

some members of the production crew share a look with each other when they see him slow down; as far as they’re concerned, he just extended the original length of the scene with a little bit of improv.

there’s nothing wrong with an actor sprinkling in some adjustments during filming, after all.

satoru dips his head down again, tilting his head to hide his face as well as he can before nipping at your earlobe.

“open your eyes,” he rasps with a tone so quiet the microphones didn’t catch it. “i want you to look at them when you cum, let them see how nasty you are for getting off in front of all these people, in front of all your colleagues.”

your eyes open before the words even register in your head, and the moment they do you’re catching sight of all the crew members watching you two— all your coworkers. you press your forehead against satoru’s shoulder before your eyes could roll to the back of your head and you let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“heh,” he huffs, his voice now back to its regular volume. “you liked that, huh?” he coos, picking up the pace of his grinding once more. the simple whine you respond with makes his dick twitch pathetically in his pants.

it doesn’t take much longer before your own hips start bucking up to meet his, your breathing now much faster and louder— a sign of your impending orgasm. feeling you grind yourself back into him makes him moan again, and he bites his lip hard to quell the sudden tightening he felt low in his gut; he’ll be damned if he cums before you.

from the corner of his eye, the director is silently saluting your performance, nodding his head in approval when he sees you start to fuck up against satoru. to him— and everyone else on set —this is, arguably, one of the better sex performances they’ve ever seen.

(it’s maybe even a little too convincing.)

satoru’s moans begin to fade into breathy whines, his face falling against your shoulder again when his movements become more erratic. he’s chasing this high with you and finding it increasingly harder to let you reach the finish line first— but he underestimated just how close you were to crossing it.

“ah— shit,” you gasped out, your eyes rolling back again. “‘m gonna— fuck, i’m—“

you cut yourself off with a muted cry, a squeak leaving your lips before a deep moan rumbles slowly in your chest. your orgasm crashes over you gradually but with an intensity you’d never felt before— and satoru is quick to follow behind. he throws his head back and furrow his brows when he cums, his hips stuttering before stilling entirely, pressing them flush against your own. the way his jaw falls and the deep groan that leaves his mouth afterwards makes you throb further, your grip on his arms unfaltering.

he is so attractive it’s almost unfair.

when satoru collapses on you, panting hard against your shoulder, a few moments pass before the director is yelling out his cue for the scene to end. you blink your eyes open, swallowing thickly and pressing the palm of your hand against satoru’s shoulder to gently push him up.

“phew, what a workout!” he jokes with the crew, his attempt at brushing off his post-orgasm haze. “i hope you guys don’t mind if i lay here for a few more minutes, yeah?” he says this with a charming grin, carefully watching for their own amused smiles before he collapses against you once again.

to keep appearances you playfully roll your eyes, nudging at him again. “sounds like your stamina isn’t all that good,” you snorted, giving up entirely on pushing him off of you. (not that you really wanted to get up either, anyway.)

satoru merely laughs into your shoulder at your words, but the light pinch he does to your waist underneath the sheets delivers a different message. a reminder of what’s to come later on, once you’re both done filming for the day.

“i don’t suppose you’re hoping to find out how good my stamina actually is, hm?” he hums against your neck, his voice back down to a whisper only you can hear. “because i would love to show you.”

also big big thank u to my beloved @teddybeartoji for proofreading this 🫂🫂 dont know what i would do without u my mickey