#merge mansion fanfic

[oonajaeadira]

FLUFFBRUARY 4: camera | lush | beau (Tim Rockford)

ADIRA'S SELF-IMPOSED FLUFFBRUARY RULES:

Six sentences.

Must be fluffy.

All 29 ficlets must feature a different Pedro.

All three words must be used (Fluffbruary prompt list here).

Use the words in order.

I reserve the right to break rules and/or cheat.

“Put that camera down; you shouldn’t be taking pictures here.”

He’s right, there’s sensitive files all over his desk, but the way the sunlight filters through the dusk of his darkened office, how it kisses the tips of his curls, glints off his badge, brings out his lush golden undertones…

“Can’t help it,” –click– “it’s nice to shoot something other than a crime scene and why shouldn’t I show the world how beautiful my beau is while I’m suffering, oh so hungry and bored, waiting for him to finish his work so we can go to lunch like he promised,” click.

A squint; he’s trying to keep from laughing by giving you his interrogation face.

“You want to shoot something less violent, I can make that happen for you, but you’re going to have to wait until this paperwork is finished, then we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” you smile as you raise the camera and prepare for another candid, “but the shoulder holsters stay on.”

___

@fluffbruary

FLUFFBRUARY MASTERLIST

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Reminder [Tim Rockford x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Merge Mansion ad (can't fucking believe this...)

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x you/cishet f!reader

Tags/Warnings: reader wears sexy lingerie but no description of body type, blowjob, deepthroating, workplace sex.

Summary: Tim Rockford works too hard, and too late. You have to remind him of what's waiting for him at home.

Words: 2,165

A/N: Y'all I am adding a new character to my menagerie of Pascal men! Dunno if I get Tim Rockford but I've been thinking about sucking his dick since I first saw him. He just has that vibe about him. Enjoy.

He is sitting astride a chair in front of a huge notice board filled with photos, notes, clippings, clues pinned to it, connected by red twine. The white shirt is straining to reach across his broad upper body. You remember a time when it had the shape of a V, now it's more of a U before connecting with the still narrow hips and flat ass.

You nod a thanks to the officer who let you in, and when he closes the door behind him, you lock it.

"Detective," you quip teasingly, but there's no response except a neck roll. He sighs deeply as he rubs his neck.

He's been working around the clock on this case. You avoid looking at the notice board, the pictures of bloody crime scenes, as you walk up to the chair.

"Tim," you speak softly, your hand landing on his shoulder. Tim twitches and looks up at you. It takes him a moment to recalibrate his brain to reality.

"What are you doing here? It must be like ten o'clock."

"It's past midnight, actually," you correct him with a wry little smile. He sighs again and takes your hand away from his shoulder, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm gonna pull an all-nighter again."

You grunt. He knows what it means. You've been over this before.

He rises from the chair, moves it away before turning to you. He smells of stress and determination: smells that you know well. He's always like this when he's working a case. You don't like it, but you've grown to accept it.

He pulls you in for a hug, so fast that you almost stumble into him. His broad chest, the soft stomach with the buttons ready to pop. He refuses to go up a size for some reason. The shoulder holster, the gun at his side. Your hand slides away from it, not wanting anything to do with it, only wanting your soft man.

"I'll come home in the morning for a shower," he promises in a low whisper against your hair. "Have breakfast with you."

"No, you won't," you calmly point out. "You'll get terrible coffee and a bagel from the diner around the corner, and your stomach will be a mess by the time this case is solved."

Tim chuckles a little at that before seeking out your lips. He tastes of stale coffee, and sweet and sour pork; the flavors of a murder case unsolved.

"Go home, get some sleep," he tells you gently. "I'll call when I leave."

"Aren't you wondering what I'm doing here, at this hour?"

He blinks, like he's only now realizing what time it is, and that you're actually here.

"Is everything okay?" His hands come to your cheeks, and he searches your face. You cover his hands with yours, lowering them as you smile reassuringly.

"I'm good, Tim, nothing's wrong. But I knew you'd be working all night, and I wanted to bring you something."

His brows draw together when he waits for you to elaborate. You untie the belt around your waist, and button open your trench coat. His nostrils flare and his eyes widen when you reveal yourself to him.

You're only wearing a bra, lace panties, and stockings underneath. It's cheesy, but he likes it.

"I came to make sure you were okay," you purr, smiling at how he swallows hard, his glassy stare.

"Baby..."

"Just let me give this to you."

You undo his belt, knuckles brushing against the soft fat of his tummy. Tim exhales in a low sigh when the belt releases its hold of him. With heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes adoringly at you as you unzip his pants. Softly, he trails his hands along your sides, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. Your nipples knit, and his gaze drop to the stiff pebbles showing through the lace fabric of the bra.

"You're too good to me, baby," he sighs, and then his eyes fall shut as you slide your hand inside his pants. "Oh."

You cup his still soft cock through the underwear, stroke in carefully as you lean in to kiss him. His lips betray a hurry that's he's loath to rein in, but when his tongue tries to pry in between your lips, you pull away with a smile. Tim doesn't smile back, but stares at you with a drunkenness in his eyes, mouth open and begging to be kissed again. You lean back in and nibble at his full lower lip, cup his cheek with your free hand, and stroke your thumb over his mustache. His cock hardens against your other palm, and you encourage it with a firmer touch.

"Tease," he groans, hands landing on your hips, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. A shiver runs through you.

"Takes one to know one."

You press your lips to his anew, and now your hand slips in under the worn elastic of the waistband. His cock jumps at the direct contact and your feel a patch of wet rub off on your hand. Your fingers close loosely around his cock, thumb smearing out the precum as your tongue plunges into his mouth for a hungry kiss. Tim's strong arms wrap around you, the smell of his sweaty pits hitting your nose but not in a repulsive way, instead you feel the crotch of your panties get wet, and your kiss turns more insistent. You suck his lower lip between your teeth, pull it out, and release it with a pop. Still holding his cock, you step back, pulling him gently but firmly to make him follow you. And Tim follows, hands reaching all over you, eyes burning with desire, lips swollen with kisses. You direct him to his desk and pull down his pants and underwear before giving him a little push to make him sit down. His cock is now as stiff as it can be, and you separate his legs, keeping eye contact as you kneel between his thighs.

"Oh, baby..." he sighs, surrendering to you with a pleading look on his face. "Baby, you're so good to me..."

"You deserve it," you purr as you nuzzle his cock, kissing its length, flicking your tongue at it. "You work so hard, you deserve to relax a little."

He moans again when you hand closes around the thick root of his cock. You trail your tongue up his length, ending with a soft swirl around the head, the glistening precum bringing a sharp taste to your mouth.

A few night shift officers pass by the door, but apart from that you can only hear the drone of the air conditioning, and Tim's heavy breathing which turns into an audible gasp bordering on a moan when you open your mouth and take his cock into your mouth. He breathes your name, looks down on you as you smile up at him, his cock in your mouth, one of your hands wrapped around the root, the other cupping his balls. He draws his fingers through his hair before dropping both hands to your head, petting it softly as you pop his cock out of your mouth and proceed to licking and stroking it. The low lights are casting shadows over Tim's face, but you can see his eyes, half closed and staring down at you in complete surrender. You squeeze the root of his balls firmly and are rewarded with a sharp hiss as Tim draws in breath.

"Sweet baby..."

Your cunt is heavy and warm, and your arousal starts to drip into your panties. The mossy, heavy scent rises to tickle your nose through the musk of your man, and you moan low as you suck the head of his cock before flicking your tongue at the frenulum.

"Fuck, oh God..."

Second that. You enjoy sucking his dick, always have. The different textures, the scent, the way it makes him twitch and curse and finally beg you. The sloppiness of it when you drool, the rush of adrenaline when you manage to take all of him, the tip bumping down your throat, Tim losing it when you massage his balls while letting him fuck your throat.

You draw a deep breath and swallow all of him, balls deep. Your lips shielding your teeth from grazing him, you immediately start to salivate, the pressure against your throat almost too much. You will yourself to calm down, to breathe through your nose as you know you can, and start to fuck him with your mouth. Your eyes fill with tears, and when you look up Tim, he brings a trembling hand to wipe away the first one that falls. You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, and lean into his palm cupping your cheek.

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetness," he mumbles hoarsely. "You're doing so good."

"I can do it," you promise him.

"I know you can."

You devour him again, tongue pressing flat against the veiny underside of his cock, your eyes falling shut as you focus on the act, on breathing, on controlling your gag reflex. Tim's breaths come in choked groans above you, his fingers tangle into your hair, petting and gently pulling while he showers you with gratitude and praise. The cold linoleum floor is hard on your knees, but you don't let that hold you back as you do your best to blow Tim’s mind. The taste of cum grows stronger, and you press your fingers against his taint while still fondling his balls. That's his undoing: his balls twitch and you feel the length of his cock pulsate as he shoots his cum down your throat. You almost choke, so you pull back, coughing as the last of his cum splatters your chin and chest. He crouches in front of you, wobbles like his legs don't carry him, panting like he just ran a marathon, but still searches your face as you fight to find your breath through the coughing.

"I'm good, I'm good," you wheeze, but Tim doesn't stop his scrutiny of you until you've found your breath.

"Okay?"

"Okay," you nod, smiling breathlessly. He smiles back then, and heaves a big sigh.

"Goddammit, woman..."

"What?" You bat your eyelashes innocently.

"Look at the state of you. A pornographic mess."

He wipes his thumb over your slick chin and closes his eye with a deep exhale when you grab his hand and bring the thumb to your mouth, sucking hard.

"You'll be the death of me."

"What a way to go, huh?"

His chestnut eyes are warm when he opens them anew.

"I'd prefer to live for as long as I can, as long as you're in my life."

"I'm here," you reassure him, your hand coming up to his cheek, which has not seen a razor in days. He leans in for a kiss, licks at your lips and into your mouth where you share his taste with him.

He finally helps you up and tuck himself in before grabbing a couple of tissues for you from his desk. You wipe yourself clean, but when you're about to wrap the coat around you again, Tim stops you.

"What about you?" His eyes are like molten chocolate when he slides his hand inside your coat and brings you snug against him.

"What about me?"

"You're so wet I can see it through your trench coat, honey."

You chuckle. You should have known.

"Sweetheart," you tell him, languidly wrapping your arms around his neck. "If you wish to pleasure me, you have to come home."

"Oh, so only you can do dirty things to me in my place of work?" he grins, hands sliding down to your ass cheeks, barely covered by the lace.

"That's right, detective." You kiss the tip of his nose. "Gotta have something to bring you home."

"I do have that," he replies softly, touching his lips to your forehead. "I'll come home in the morning, I promise."

Before you can answer, there is a hard bang on the door, followed by a call:

"Rockford, we brought in your suspect!"

His countenance changes: his eyes turn sharp, his lips austere, his shoulders squared. He is no longer your Tim; now he's Detective Rockford.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go - "

" - and you won't be home for breakfast," you finish his sentence with a practical shrug as you straighten out his tie for him. "I know. Go do your thing."

He dips his face down to kiss you.

"I'll be home," he renews his promise. "And I'll bring bread rolls from that place you like."

You smile against his lips, his warmth spreading through your body, your cunt bottoming out at the thought of a slow morning with him.

"I'll hold you to that, Tim."

He brushes his lips over your cheek, his breath warm when he whispers:

"Keep that underwear on."

[bluestar22x]

The Rockford Files

Series Summary: It's 90s Portland, Oregon, and Tim Rockford is a workaholic detective highly praised for having the most closed cases in the homicide division. Despite this, and to his dismay, the department decides to pair him up with a psychic who can sense spirits and see pieces of their memories. Can she prove to him she's not a fraud and win him over?

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (both in their late 40s)

Rating: 18+ Series

Series Warnings: Crime, spooky stuff, workplace romance, smut, fowl language. Descriptions of murder scenes, blood, gore, and domestic abuse. Sexual assault of a minor hinted at in part 1 (not explicit).

Author's Note: The inspiration for this one flooded me. So many details and feelings. Romance in a gloomy field of work with literal ghosts involved just in time for spooky season. Each case happens 13 months apart. I didn't even mean to do that, I just wanted big time jumps like Sherlock (BBC) had at times.

xxx

Sweet Annie

Mr. Henley

Jane Doe

xxx

Oneshots

Holsters

The Massage

The Morning After

xxx

Writing Inspo Music For This Series

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[ktwritesstuff]

Dig Too Deep (a merge mansion inspired tale of intrigue)

Title: Dig Too Deep Fandom: Merge Mansion Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Det. Tim Rockford x Maddie!reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: When you find yourself under suspicion of murder, you do what you have to do to protect your family.

Content Notes: tw for dubious consent situations and some @beefrobeefcal inspired bingeing (if I can rally myself for a part 2, it'll get more intense X_X)

Dig Too Deep

You watched intently as the detective stabbed his fork into the pie, scooping flaky pastry, seasoned meat and vegetables into his mouth, making lewd, satisfied sounds as he chewed and swallowed.  The cheap fabric of his white shirt was already stretched tight across his broad chest and with every bite the buttons seemed to squeal with the effort of containing him.  

“This is incredible,” he said, wiping his still full mouth with a napkin.  “I don’t think I’ve ever had lamb like this before.”

You were seated at the small kitchen table beside him, clutching a mug of herbal tea that had long-since gone cold.  It was a little past noon when Detective Tim Rockford had arrived at your doorstep and your Grandma Ursula had just put a pie into the oven.  But of course it would have been rude to let the detective go hungry once the delicious smell filling the house prompted him to admit he had been living on diner coffee and takeout.  So you had warmed up the shepherd’s pie for him and sat down at the kitchen table to discuss Roddy’s disappearance.  

“It’s an old family recipe,” your grandmother replied with a tight smile.  “Just took the blue ribbon at the Hopwell Bay Faire.  Maddie grows the vegetables herself, you know.”

“Is that so?” The detective turned to you.  

You tried to appear as relaxed as possible, given that there was a real detective from the city sitting at your kitchen table, even as you tried to parse his every move.  People only ate when they felt comfortable.  Certainly if he suspected you of murder he would not be tucking in to his second piece of pie in your grandmother’s cottage.  Then again, he was a homicide detective.  Perhaps he was accustomed to staring down murderers without losing his appetite.  There was certainly a hungry look in his eye as he fixed his gaze on you.

Detective Rockford scooped the last crumbs from the plate into his mouth and finished the glass of milk your grandmother had set down in front of him in a few large gulps.  He leaned back in his chair, legs spreading to accommodate his swollen paunch.  

“More?” your grandmother asked.  The uninitiated likely would have missed the annoyance in her tone.

“Thank you,” the detective shook his head, rubbing his belly contentedly.  “I couldn’t eat another bite.  And I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”  

Detective Rockford sat up straight, adjusting the waistband of his pants and retrieved a small notebook from his pocket.  

“I had just a few more questions if you don’t mind.”  Despite his obvious over-indulgence, you could have sworn there was something hungry, almost predatory, about the way he looked at you.  “You said Mr. Took left here around 11?”

“Yes,” you nodded.  “11 or 11:30.”

“You see,” Detective Rockford rubbed his chin.  “According to the city planner’s office, he never arrived for his next meeting.  So you may very well be the last person to have seen him alive.”  

The detective looked up from his notes to stare across the table at you with his keen, dark eyes.  “Besides the murderer, that is.”

You reached for your throat out of nervous habit, fingertips grazing your bare collarbones.  You struggled to keep your face neutral as a knot of panic caught in your chest.

“That’s just awful,” you said, moving your hands to stroke your arms through your wooly sweater.  “It’s all so awful.  You really think he was killed?  You said you found his truck.  How can you be sure?”

“Blood,” the detective said, matter-of-factly.  “The amount of blood and the pattern of the splatter was, well, contra-indicative for survival.”  

You grimaced and covered your mouth.

“To think they can tell all that after pulling the car out of the water,” your grandmother said.  “Technology today, it’s really astounding.”  

You watched in horror as Detective Rockford fixed his gaze on Ursula.  His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.  It was like a slow-motion trainwreck you were powerless to stop.  

“Where did you hear the car was underwater?”

“Oh, I just assumed,” your grandmother said, removing a hot apple pie from the oven without missing a beat.  “Our neighbor Julius mentioned seeing a crane pulling a truck out of the reservoir.  If it's meant to be a secret I won’t mention it to anyone else, but I’m afraid news travels fast in a small town.”

Detective Rockford looked unconvinced, but he returned his attention to his notes without further comment.  

“Now Maddie,” he said.  “You understand it’s very important you tell me exactly what happened.  Just as you remember it.”

“Like I said,” you repeated.  “It was nothing remarkable.  I met Roddy up at the Big House, Bouton Manor, that is, at 9 in the morning.  We did our walkthrough and he gave me a list of everything we still need for the permits.  He drove me back to the cottage and I haven’t seen him since.”

You watched him writing in his notebook.  He had large hands.  Worn and marked by a web of thick veins. You imagined–despite yourself– what it would feel like, having those big hands searching the curves of your body, roughly twisting your wrists behind your back, bending you over the kitchen table. 

“You didn’t notice anything unusual?  No indication of where he was headed next?”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, snapping out of your reverie.  “I know that isn’t very helpful.  I just can’t believe he’s gone.  He was such a sweet man.  Who would want to hurt him?”

“Who indeed?” Ursula added.  “There are too many sick people in the world these days.  Of course you hear about these things happening in the city.  I just never thought it could happen here.”

“If you think of anything else,” Detective Rockford took a business card from his pocket and slid it across the table to you.  “I’m staying at the Motor Lodge on Church Street–”

“Of course,” you said, accepting the card.

“If that’s all, Detective,” your grandmother said, beckoning him toward the door with a polite grimace.  

“Now that you mention it,” the detective said, adjusting his tie as he rose from the table.  “I sure would love a slice of that apple pie for the road.”  

You closed the door behind him, watching through the window as the car pulled out of the drive.  

“You said too much,”  you warned, practically throwing the detective’s plate into the sink.  

“And you barely said anything at all!” Your grandmother shook her head, wrapping what remained of the apple pie and placing it in the ice box.  “No wonder he was suspicious, the way you were shaking like a leaf.”

“A man is dead, Grandma,” you said, sinking back into the chair at the kitchen table.  “You saw how he looked at me; he thinks we have something to do with this!  Maybe we do need a lawyer–”

“Nonsense,” your grandmother said.  “A lawyer would only make you look more suspicious!”

“You watch too many cop shows, grandma,” you rolled your eyes, holding your head in your hands.

“And you listen to too many podcasts.”  Grandma Ursula placed her hands on your shoulders comfortingly.  “You did nothing wrong.  You have nothing to feel guilty about.  Try not to worry so much.”

But you couldn’t stop worrying.  If the police were sure Roddy was dead, having only recovered the car, there was no telling what other evidence they had.  There had to be something you could do, some way to win the detective over.  

You went to the Motor Lodge with a basket of Ursula’s cinnamon rolls.  You knew Becky would be working the desk and she was more than happy to gossip about the detective in room three–keeping odd hours, ordering late-night takeout, and leaving messes for housekeeping.

You knocked on the door; it took him so long to answer you thought he might be out.   The door swung open and the detective looked you over, leaning against the door frame.  His jacket was off, exposing his shoulder holster and the service weapon tucked under his left arm, his tie was loose and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone.  

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” you said.

“You’re damn right there is,” the detective said.  

“Can I come in?” you said.

“Why?  So you can lie to me some more?” the detective said.  “In fact, maybe you should get a lawyer–a real one–not that Julius character.”

You held the basket out in front of you as a peace offering.  The detective looked it over, lifting the cloth napkin and nodding appraisingly at the contents.

He stepped back, allowing you inside the room.  Becky hadn’t been kidding about the mess, there were papers spread out across the desk and dresser with crumpled up notes filling the waste paper basket.  Every other available surface was littered with used napkins and half-empty takeout containers from the side table to the unmade bed.  The room had a distinct odor of the metallic tang of stress and sweat and msg.  

The detective snatched a photograph off the bedside table and held it out in front of you.  A locket, the chain broken and tangled under the seat of Roddy’s truck.

“What happened in that car?” the detective said

“We fought,” you admitted, sinking onto the bed.

“About the permits?”  Detective Rockford took his phone from the dresser, starting a new recording.  “The department of public works said they had scheduled to move forward with the demolition.”

You nodded, sniffing and wiping your eyes as the detective held out a box of tissues from the bedside table.  

“Roddy said the storm water mitigation plan didn’t meet the drainage requirements.  That we’d never get the new permits within the timeframe the city gave us before demolition, unless…unless I did something for him."

The detective looked you over, sizing you up. In his eyes, he had you exactly where he wanted you.  

"I tried to let him down easy, but he just flew into a rage.  I had never seen him like that.  He grabbed me.  I hit him.  I managed to get out of the car and I ran back to the house.  That was the last time I saw him.” 

“When you got back to the house, your Grandmother was there?”  The detective probed.

“Well yes.”

“You told her what happened?”

“No–”

“But she knew,” Detective Rockford said.  He took a seat beside you, the worn mattress sagging, still holding the phone between you.

“Can I have this back?” you said, handing him the photograph.  “It has pictures of my parents, sentimental value.”

“It’s evidence.” Detective Rockford said.

It wouldn’t take much to confirm the locket was yours, that horse was out of the barn.  For all you knew he had your fingerprints, DNA, it was too late to back out now, but you could paint a picture, explain it all away.  If there was one thing the Boultons excelled at it was concealing hard truths.  

“Evidence of what?”  you asked.  “That we fought; that I hurt him, had motive.  You think I–”

Your voice broke, and the detective placed one of his large hands on your bare arm.

“Stop,” he warned softly, his eyes fixed on your plush, pink lips.  “Don’t say another word.”

“You knew it was mine,” you said.  “Even before I came here.  How?” 

The detective brushed your hair back from your shoulder gently. 

“There’s a mark on your neck, from where he ripped it off of you,” he explained.  “You must have been scared.”

“Yes, of course, but I would never hurt him–” 

“Are you scared now?”

The detective leaned in so close, you could see your silhouette reflected in his shining brown eyes.  

“Should I be?”

When the detective didn’t respond, you moved toward him, your lips a mere breath away from his, just to be sure you hadn’t miscalculated.  

The detective lunged at you, pressing his mouth into yours with ravenous desire.  His hand holding your face and moving to grope your breasts, your waist, your thighs. Your elbow connected with a half-eaten carton of lo mein as he pushed you back onto the bed.  You knotted your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, gasping at the sudden assault as his tongue prodded past your teeth.

You let your head fall back as his mouth traveled to your throat, sucking and biting.  His large hands pulled at the neck of your sweater, exposing the tops of your breasts.  

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured.  “How soft you’d be, how warm squeezing my cock with that tight little pussy.  Since the moment I laid eyes on you–”    

You saw the phone on the pillow beside you.  You experienced a moment of clarity between waves of desire.  He hadn’t stopped the recording; probably figured he could delete it later, but everything went straight to the cloud these days.    

“No,” you moaned as his hands drifted down, prying open the button on your jeans.  “Stop.  We can’t–”

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he moaned against the skin of your stomach, pulling your pants down around your knees.  “Gonna make you feel so good.  ‘S all I can think about–if you taste as good as that pie.”

You whimpered with relief as he pressed his mouth to you, tongue lapping at your folds and circling your clit.  His satisfied moans sending shockwaves through your wet heat.  

“No,” you sighed again, turning your head away as he gripped your hips harder, nose buried in the soft flesh padding your hip bones.  “Don’t–don’t–”  

You moaned loud and long as your womb clenched and thighs shook, braced against the detective’s broad shoulders.  

“That’s my good girl,” he coaxed, pushing himself upward, his face coated in your arousal as he shucked his pants down.  “Keep being good for me.” 

He was so big, bigger than you had guessed. He worked into you with long, deliberate strokes, face contorted with arousal. Your swollen, eager pussy engulfing him, drawing him in, devouring him.  He came hard, painting your inner walls, rolling off you with a guttural moan. 

Before you could even sit up, he seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. Without another word you straightened your clothes, and slipped back out of the room into the crisp, autumn air.  

[absurdthirst]

Cracking the Case {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of crime scene photos, misuse of handcuffs, bondage, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Staying late with your boss, Detective Tim Rockford, turns into some sexy times at his desk, making him crack the case while he's buried inside you.

A/N: Did we write a fic about a damn Merge Mansion commercial? Yes we did. Do we have any regrets? Not a damn one! 🤡🤡🤡 Based off how sexy that damn stupid game commercial is and this NSFW GIF.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He’s been at his desk all day, gun holster still on his shoulders and you bite your lip, eying the cups lined up on his desk. “Tim.” You say and he barely tears his eyes away from the photos he’s been studying on his desk. “Tim.” You repeat, knowing he will be there all night if left to his own devices. 

“Yes?” He asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the photo of the fatal wound to look into your concerned eyes. 

“You need to eat.” You huff, knowing you could use something too but your boss has spent three days studying the evidence, sleeping in the office and maybe managing to drag himself back to his apartment for a quick shower. “I’ll get you something.” You stand up, making your way out of the police department to head down to the 24 hour diner you frequent when his case keeps you both tethered to work.

Tossing his pen down, Tim rocks back in his chair and sighs, closing his eyes as he presses the pads of his fingers to them. Staring at the crime scene photos for so long that he feels like they are blurring together. He’s missing something, he can feel it. It’s right in front of him but he just seem can’t find it. It’s times like these that he longs for the days where a bottle of bourbon is in the bottom cabinet of his desk drawer and a pack of Marlboro Reds sit right next to his hand. He’s given that up, trying to be the ‘new image’ of the police force but it’s damn hard when you’re trying to solve a case like this. The chair creaks as he rocks back, finally aware of the growling in his stomach that you’ve insisted on taking care of for him. He’d be lost without you.

You return with the food, a burger and fries for Tim, knowing he will be annoyed if you get him something healthier and you just want him to eat something and not just chain smoke until the light bulb goes off. He’s got his face in his hands and you set the take out bag down. “Betty says hello.” You tease, knowing he is aware of the older waitress having a crush on the ‘hunky police detective’. “She even threw in a slice of apple pie for you.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the bag. “Someday soon I’m gonna have to go back in there and flirt with her a bit.” He tells you, knowing that the woman is probably ten years too old for him, but he shoots you a grin. “Keep the pie slices rollin’.” The mouthwatering scent of the hot burger makes him groan as he opens the styrofoam contain and he looks at you. “You not get anything for yourself? Or you plannin’ on going home?” He wouldn’t blame you if you did leave, it’s far past the hours that you were expected to answer the phones, the Desk Sergeant already taking over for the night. You aren’t a police officer, but as the department’s secretary, you were a damn vital part of keeping this place running.

He takes a bite of the burger and you hold up your own bag, “figured I’d get something to eat before I head home. Keep you company before you retreat into your mind again.” You tease and sit down on the other side of his desk, gathering up the photos and keeping them in order so he can concentrate on his food. “I know you want to solve this case but punishing yourself by not eating and sleeping won’t get you any closer to solving this.” You warn him, having watched him and the others try to be superhuman and it always leads to mistakes. “You should go home, eat, shower, get laid. Will help you take your mind off of the case and you’ll come in with a fresh perspective.”

Tim scoffs as he picks up a fry and bites into it. “Gotta go out to get laid unless I call up some of the working girls.” He jokes. “And the captain would have my ass if I got busted by vice like Johnson did a few months ago.” Tim was a bachelor, probably always would be one after his fiancée jilted him a few months before the wedding years ago. Claiming that he worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her. It was probably true, so he hadn’t really tried after that, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You could easily go out and get laid. You’re a handsome guy. Smart, funny. Just flash the handcuffs and say you know how to use them.” You home and bite into your own sandwich, watching him chew with satisfaction that he’s eating. “Too bad you’re always in this damn office. You’d be popular at the bar down the street from me. Lot of girls like a cop with handcuffs.”

His brow arches up at your comment, wondering briefly if you were one of those girls before he tries to push the thought away. You are off limits. Plenty of detectives had tried it with you only to be shot down and he enjoys the rapport you have, not willing to risk it. “Lots of girls, huh?” He asks, taking another bite of his burger. “Too bad I’m chained to my desk.”

You chuckle, “some women would like that.” You joke and continue eating. The silence is comforting, both of you enjoying a hard earned meal after a long day of trying to solve this case. You watch him as he eats, mustache getting a little wild after concentrating on this case and his hair all over the place yet he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes meet yours and you smile, setting your sandwich down. “You know…I’m one of those girls…who like a man with handcuffs.”

Tim’s brow shoots up and for a moment he’s speechless. Clearing his throat for a moment and nearly choking on his own spit. “I- you are?” His cock twitches in his pants as he imagines putting his cuffs on you. Bending you over and pressing you up against this desk as you moan softly.

You bite your lip, enjoying the clueless look on his face like you haven’t been subtly flirting with him for God knows how long. The lines on his forehead become more pronounced and you decide to take the risk. You can’t keep imagining him between your thighs every night while you rub your clit. This is either going to be the best or worst decision of your life. You push your sandwich aside and stand up, walking around the desk until you’re beside him, and you look into those dark eyes, wide with shock, while you slowly pull your skirt up and over your hips to expose your panties. “Yes. I am.” You say softly, voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“Shit.” The way his eyes shift between your exposed panties and your face would be comical if he wasn’t trying to make sure you aren’t teasing him. His mouth runs dry and Tim quickly stands, abandoning his meal to press close to you. “Are you- fuck, are you sure?” He demands, needing to hear you say the words.

You chuckle nervously, reaching up tentatively to wrap your arms around his neck so you can press closer to him. “Yes baby. I am sure. I want you to fuck me. Always have. Since the day I started working here.” You confess, keeping your eyes on his.

Tim hisses, unable to believe this is happening and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Blindly striking out behind you at his desk to clear a space for you to sit while he frantically slides his tongue into your mouth. Needy and desperate for you, it’s been so long since he’s touched a woman and he’s often thought of you with his hand around his cock in the shower.

You moan into his mouth, pulling him even closer as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. You can feel the pent up need inside of him, similar to your own, and you whimper into his mouth while his tongue slides against yours. “Fuck Tim.” You pant, tilting your head when he kisses down your neck and presses you up against his desk so you can feel his hardening cock.

“Yeah?” He groans against your flesh and sucks at your pulse. His hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing them and then he presses two fingers against your clothed clit. “You want me to use my cuffs on you?” He asks as he rubs the damp fabric. “Or just turn you around and fuck you?”

“Oh God. Cuffs. Please use the cuffs.” You beg, having imagined it too many times. “Please baby. I- I just need you to touch me.” You reach down to squeeze him through his dress pants, wanting to make him moan.

His hands reluctantly pull away, fumbling behind his back to pull his cuffs out of the small pouch he has on his belt. Grabbing your wrist to slap the cold steel around it as he pushes your arm behind your back. “Jesus Christ baby, you drive me insane.” He groans, eager to give you what you want.

You gasp at the cold metal encircling your wrists and you love the way he bends you over his desk once you are cuffed up. “Tim.” You whine when he grinds against you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” You beg, aching for him after so long of wondering what it would be like.

Chuckling, Tim kisses you again, “I’m going to baby, I promise.” His fingers find the edge of your panties and he starts to strip them down your thighs. Dropping them at your feet on top of your heels. “Step out of them and turn around. Spread your legs.” He orders roughly.

You struggle but manage to kick the panties off of your shoes, letting them land wherever, and you spin around, spreading your legs for the handsome detective. “Fuck me. Please.” You aren’t above begging, wanting your dreams to come true.

There’s so much he would do to you if he wasn’t in his office. Surrounded by the case details and photos, sure that someone could walk in. That makes it even thrilling, even though the lights are off outside and most everyone else has gone home. He reaches out and slaps your ass as he unbuckles his belt with one hand. “Fuck, your gagging for it, aren’t you? Bet you're soaking wet, eager for my cock.”

God, hearing him speak like that, husky and deep, has you dripping. “Ye-yes Detective. I- I want your cock. Please. I need you.” You pant, not above begging at this point. You feel his cock push against your ass cheek and you gasp, unable to believe how big he feels. “Fuck, Tim.” You whine, grinding back against him, fingers flexing behind your back.

He decides that he’s not going to spit in his hand, wanting it to sting a bit as he stretches you out. Needing a good fuck to smooth his rough edges and maybe help him focus on the case. Taking his cock in hand, he nudges along your slit, feeling how wet you are. “Dirty fucking girl, you’re soaked.” He groans. “Let’s see how well you take my cock.” He nestles the head against your entrance and snaps his hips forward, pinning you to the desk as he drives his cock deep.

You collapse forward, head coming down to rest near the take out bag and your mouth falls open into a moan as he pushes deep inside of you. He’s thick, stretching you out, and your nails dig into your palms, unable to believe how good he feels already. “Oh fuck.” You choke, eyes squeezed shut as his hands grip your hips.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Clenching his jaw, Tim draws his hips back to start a frantic, devastating pace. Nearly immediately breathless from how hard he is pounding into you, groaning and grunting as he feels your soaked walls clench around him.

“Shit! Shit!” You cry out, breath knocked out of you from his harsh pace, making you moan his name, and you can’t do anything but let him fuck you, use your body for his own pleasure. “Baby. Oh fuck, Tim. Yes. Yes!” You moan.

“Quiet.” He hisses, not slowing down. “Can-can’t let everyone hear how- how much of a dirty girl you are.” He groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the squelch of your cunt as he drills into you. Slippery and hot, perfect for him. “Fuck, baby. It’s- it’s like heaven.” He groans, opening his eyes and his gaze falls on the strewn photos on his desk.

You don’t know he’s eying the photos on his desk as he pounds into you. You love how his hands come to grip your handcuffed wrists, using you as leverage to push harder and deeper. “So good.” You whimper, “so fucking good, sir.” You are used to addressing him as sir or detective and that slips into your dirty little fantasies.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widen and his pace stutters for a moment and the pieces click together. “That’s it.” He groans, gripping your hips tighter and pushing into you faster as he realizes he’s just solved the case. “Fuck that’s it!”

You don’t realize he’s just solved the case, you think he’s close to cumming and you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t going to cum but it’s still been nice to have him inside of you. “I’m on birth control. You can cum inside of me.” You sigh, closing your eyes and waiting for the warmth of his seed to fill you up.

Tim growls, flattening himself against your back and slides his hand around your hip to find your clit. “Fucking hell,” he moans into your ear. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you up. So fucking perfect.” He pants. “Helped me solve the case, fucking solved it buried in your cunt.” He presses two fingers to your clit and rubs frantically, wanting you to cum on his cock.

Your eyes open in shock and you grin, glad he’s solved the case. “Gl-glad I could help.” You chuckle breathlessly before you moan when his fingers rub your clit. Hard and fast as he pushes deep inside of you. “Oh fuck.” You pant, loving the way he kisses along your neck. “Shit. Tim. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, walls fluttering around his cock and he pushes towards your orgasm. You cry out a few thrusts later, clamping down on his length and soaking him as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

He feels it. The hot, wet gush of your cunt right before you tighten so much that he moans. The grip on his cock almost makes him unable to move as he grinds deep. He’s right behind you, poised on the edge and burying his cock deep, moaning your name as he fills you with hot spurts of his seed. Painting your walls as he chants your name breathlessly.

You pant, relaxing on his desk as your body buzzes with the aftermath of your orgasm. You feel giddy and you smile against the surface of his desk as he leans over you, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that to happen today.” You chuckle, knees wobbly and you’re grateful you’re on his desk.

Tim huffs in agreement, pulling out of you gently so he can watch your cunt flutter and try to push out his cum. “Didn’t expect to solve the case while fucking you.” He jokes, caressing your hip before he grabs the photos that had caught his eye.

“Glad I could help. You wanna finish your dinner and then you can call it in?” You suggest, looking over your shoulder at him. He nods and you watch him eye the photo that has helped him solve the case. “Could you uncuff me first, babe?” You joke, wiggling your fingers.

“Right. Shit.” Tim hisses, immediately dropping the photos and pulling up his pants that have dropped to mid thigh so he can pull his keys out. “Sorry.” He huffs, quickly unlocking the cuffs and taking them off of you, gently massaging your wrists for a second before he lets go of you and steps to the side.

You groan softly as you stand up straight, grabbing the napkins from the diner to clean yourself up before his cum drips onto the floor. Once you’re cleaned up as much as possible, you shove the napkins into the empty take out bag and find your panties to put them on, adjusting your skirt. “Glad you solved the case.” You kiss his cheek and shift to step away from his desk.

Tim stares at the pictures in amazement, unable to believe that he had missed this. It’s so obvious now. He shoves a hand through his hair and mumbles, “thanks,” as he thinks about the way to present this to the DA. You shuffle off to the side and it jars him out of his thinking. “Hey-“ he clears his throat. “You wanna get a drink?” He asks, suddenly awkward even if he had just railed you over his desk. “I mean, like a date?”

You offer him a soft smile, stepping closer so you can kiss his cheek. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You say and step back. “Go solve the case and be the best detective on the force and then we can go get that drink.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Tim smiles at you, nodding quickly. “Give me ten minutes and then we’ll talk about what we can do in the interrogation room over a drink.” He winks and quickly buttons up his pants so he can grab the phone to call the DA and get an arrest warrant issued. He managed to solve the case after all, all thanks to you. Maybe he needed to fuck you during every case from now on, just to make sure justice is served.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Songs and musings in the Key of Peña-Rockford

(Those gun holsters have me all fucked up. Seriously.)

I warned y'all about how obsessive my hyperfocus can get, right? Damn ADHD. The choke hold (all the puns intended) that this fic idea has on me is unreal, haha. But all of your comments and encouragements about this Rockford Pena WIP are making me so happy and relieving some of the stress I feel about writing it - thank you! I don't have another snippet to share just yet (so I hope this post isn't too much of a cock tease), but since I always love to read about character thots and writing processes (e.g. the extra posts by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings about her Destiny & Deliverance series, and @gracieispunk with her White Lotus posts), I figured I'd post a little update with some musings and songs I'm associating with this fic.

My Spotify currently is curated by @sin-djarin, who somehow knew just the right songs that relate to this WIP. Particularly these three tracks are on constant repeat. Going back and forth with her about little things that come up, or question ‘why this and not’ has been so much fun really. It makes me giddy because it turns the fic into something collaborative rather than just something from the inside of my brain, you know?

Whisper - Morphine

I included this track the other day already with the WIP snippet; it’s sexy and slow and that bass line really gets to me, then the saxophone ups it even more. @sin-djarin sent me several Morphine songs (I have to admit that somehow I wasn’t familiar with them) but this one stands out. The push and pull that’s happening in the lyrics is also delicious, and a lot of it feels like it’s coming from Rockford’s POV about Javi - that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

A Perfect Twist - Mike Patton

This song has an exuberant, rather bombastic vibe to it that I would’ve never associated with anything related to Peña. Although, those lyrics... they are definitely about brat taming.

I'll bend you over my knee Let's see what you can take You're never gonna break

And I'll squeeze that noose a little tighter Breathing like a snake How much can you take? You're never gonna break

And I'll turn those screws a little tighter You can hardly wait You're never gonna break

Just one more twist of the pliers Got you on the brink How much can you take? You're never gonna break

There’s something about the dizzying tune and pace that somehow evokes the noir-like Rockford vibes in the Merge Mansion clips, laced with liquor and cigarette smoke and things spinning kinda out of control.

Wait who said Masquerade Mansion? 🎭

In relation to these two?

Shhhh let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Keep your eyes wide shut. 🎭

Broad Daylight - Gabriel Rios

This is the only song that suddenly came to me re: this fic, and I was all… the fuck is this. I like the song, it's catchy, but it just didn’t make any sense to me with regard to Javi and Tim. The only thing I could think of in relation to the track was maybe a vague reference of Peña getting caught up with Los Pepes, things that were done in the dark and shouldn't come out in the daylight:

Back in the old days, tight like a fight Used to hang with the devil in the broad daylight

But still, it puzzled me. I think something in one of the Morphine songs musically led me to Broad Daylight, weird as that may sound. After way too many replays of that song (and @sin-djarin joking about 'what are those Polaroids Tim has on Javi?', since the song mentions polaroids), the relevance of the song finally clicked with me;

Look at you shaking you can't find his plight Got you scared of ghosts in the dead of night While you're making up stories trying to make it ok He'll be bringing them in to let them out and play In the broad daylight

We'll see how it goes from there.

At some point, there's also going to be a bit of Marcus Pike in the fic (pancakes!). I have to be honest - I don’t really read a lot of Marcus!fic, so I’ve been trying to figure out how he fits in and some of his character traits etc. But the wonderful @secretelephanttattoo was very quick to offer me some insights about Marcus that I needed! Go read it here.

TBH, I had absolutely not planned to write anything about Peña any time soon, because why I love him in canon and in the many fics I've read, I didn't exactly feel like I had a good enough handle on writing something about him that has some plot rather than just fucking. But then this fic idea popped up. If there's anyone who knows him really well, it's @goodwithcheese (you'd better be reading her incredible new story Paranoid Heart about Javi!). So I dropped some questions and fortunately she was totally up for some character chat right here, which is really helping me figure out some things. Thank you babe, and I hope more people will contribute thots to your 1K Celebration Confessional about their sins!

Also, I've been trying to put a time and place to the fic, but I've decided to not get too hung up about that because it's really not literature but Fic/Porn With Plot. It doesn't all have to make sense. But in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards this taking place in the US in recent enough times that smartphones are a thing.

Age wise, I'm seeing Tim Rockford as being 48/50 years old probably. Javier is about 40, 41 years old - just to give you an idea of 'which Javi' I'm looking at, I've got a sense of him as he is in Narcos S2 around episode 4-9, after Carillo is murdered, and Berna takes him to see Judy Moncada.

Reader insert (I know, I haven't spoken a lot about her yet!) is probably about 40 years old too. And finally, Marcus Pike is give r take about 37 years old, which corresponds with his Mentalist appearance.

BTW, I came across an edit that had all of the Tim Rockford bits from the ads without the additional stuff. A whopping total of 48 seconds. Man, I hope that Pedro is aware of how fucked up he has us about Rockford with less than a minute of his acting. Even my wife said 'I would totally watch a show or movie based on this character' when I played the Merge Mansion ads for her.

Finally, here's a video of Pedro talking about "real fantasy fullfillment in terms of getting to immerse yourself in an experience" and how he "loves being a detective, that's fantasy fullfilment for me" re: the Merge Mansion event day.

*hits replay*

Say 'fantasy fullfillment' one more time? Respectfully.

Like I said, I hope he knows how fucked up he has us all about Rockford. I sure am glad he did these ads and whatever he got paid, it sure wasn't enough.

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Updated tag list (comment if you want to be added, or if I added you by accident!) based on folks who commented/reblogged on the prev posts:

@sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @txlady37 @rebel-held @alwaysmicado @heareball @clawdee @covetyou @bellsbluebrd @alltheglitterandtheroar @axshadows @casa-boiardi @bastardmandennis @stealyourblorbos @chronically-ghosted @katw474 @beabliss @nerdieforpedro

I don't know why some usernames don't seem to link when I try to tag them, btw. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this?

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: August 21

Now that the busytimes are over, I just desperately wanted to get back to the fic world. And I may have binged a little. No punishments plz. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Also dang, there's a lot of Jack this time around. There must be whiskey in the water...

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation fic

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JOEL MILLER

Kindred Spirits by @all-the-things-2020 🪐 It's Anne of Green Gables, but with Ellie and Joel. Really, y'all, this one caught me in my chest and had me tearing up more than once watching Joel come back to life for the love of a new daughter. My heart!!!!!

Surrender Chapter 10 and Chapter 11 by @ezrasbirdie So now we've gotten to the end of Kin and I'm still tense about Joel and Ellie even if I understand that their story will lead them back to Jackson. But now I'm just worried about Daisy. She's so vulnerable, so convinced that love is an accident or will always be so fragile and fleeting, I'm so afraid she'll run from it before she has a chance for it to really sink in. I just want to smoosh her and never let her go.

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EZRA

Taking Root by @the-blind-assassin-12 This short story takes place in an existing Ezra storyline, but you don't need to know that series to appreciate this fluffy bit of lovely, heartwarming give and take between Ezra and Cee as they make a gift for someone they love and care for.

E is for Exhibition by @butchmandalorian 🪐 Pro dom!Ezra is back, my beloved, and this time it's sex in a movie theater. He is such a menace and loves his work so much. I really wish the man was real. I am not a BDSM girl, but there's just something about butchmandalorian's Ez that gets me in all the right places.

Kinktober in June: Focus by @leslie-lyman Holy balls, y'all. This is mesmerizing in every single sense of the word: a little hypno-kink will do ya. Even without his arm and his humanity, Ezra still has many skills. The ability to manipulate and get what he wants. A silken voice. Patience. And apparently, that's all you need too.

E. - "Are you sure you're ready for this?" by @missredherring A drabbled writing exercise wherein Miss Red takes the prompt out of the smut box and into a softer place. Which is totally my jam.

Miles and Time by @never--doubt 🪐 Have I said yet how much I love Ezra? Or soulmates? I've never seen this mechanic before--the one where you have numbers on your wrist counting down the distance between soulmates. I love it. There's a lifetime of angst, but man, Ezra's worth the wait.

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JACK DANIELS

Draft Release: Dial Up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey by @artemiseamoon 🪐 You know, I had the same reaction to Jack that OFC Bria does here. Initially, I thought he was ridiculous and full of ego, not worth losing my heart to. But she gets to see the Jack that's deep down inside that Whiskey persona and...well...never say never.

untitled by @brandyllyn Hi would you like to be punched in the heart with just 600 words? Why don't you read what happens when Jack comes back from taking another bullet to the skull? I feel like this could be the prologue to a story that could end up so so sweet...but damn, that last sentence is a doozy.

Saying I Love You With Flowers by @songsformonkeys 🪐 I'm not really a flower person myself, but if I was getting them from y crush constantly, I could be converted real fast. Is there anything as lovely as when Jack's both a scamp and a gentleman all at once? He's the master at it and I am a puddle at his feet.

How Wrong You Are by @haylzcyon A short and sweet piece wherein Jack professes his care in the aftermath of a sketchy getaway. Haylz is never over-saccharine, but hits all the notes just right, just like a damn fine Whiskey indeed.

Bangathon: Position: Kneeling Reach Around (with Marcus Pike) and Position: 69 by @prolix-yuy My goodness, LJ is great at the smut and I love how she writes Jack. He's a confident lover, putting the object of his affection exactly where he needs them...and where they will soon understand they need to be. He may go after what he wants, but he never pushes too hard and always makes sure it's what they really want. I would 100% want to be in this man's mustachio'ed embrace. Yee-effin-haw.

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JAVI GUTIERREZ

Music Box: Prologue by @beecastle Aw yeah, we're getting Little Mermaid AU! This is a quick prologue setting us up for wanting more--both in terms of story AND in terms of the reader character wanting to learn more about humans. I'm hoping there's a certain sweet human in her eyeline soon....

To Your Rescue by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 Oh to be in the employ of Javi Gutierrez. To have his attention, his yearning looks, his protection. Really, my favorite thing would be to fall asleep watching movies with him...and you'll get that here too.

Litha by @grogusmum 🪐 Javi and his beekeeper girl are sweet as honey and I'm not gonna shy away from saying so. I love that he appreciates her taking an interest in his hobbies and family celebrations and shows that he cares for her interests by helping her celebrate a sweet Midsummers!

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MARCUS MORENO

Taste by @@radiowallet I generally don't read Marcus but I will always ALWAYS make an enthusiastic exception for Cat's Marcus. He is a true hero, both sweet and confident, pulled so ardently by his needs but really getting off on saving the day for you. And, of course, there's Cat's style of writing which is song in itself. If anyone can make me fall in love with period sex, it's her, it's Marcus, it's this sweetly smutty fic in all its soft, yearning glory.

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TIM ROCKFORD

First Mistake by @hopeamarsu 🪐 I am really delighted by this little character study. Hopes took what we see in the trailer and turned it inward, focusing on Tim's physical sensations and trains of thought. The way he registers the take-out he's eating, how he craves the whiskey in his desk drawer, his frustration as he looks at the clue board trying to make that crucial connection. It's a beautiful little piece, simple and yet full of so much.

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PERO TOVAR

untitled by @writeforfandoms I am such a sucker for Jen's modern-not-modern Pero. He is learning, but still such a menace and a hedonist that I can't help but giggle at him and adore him in equal measure. I love when his puppydog nature rears its head like it does here as he tries to keep his reader all to himself on a nice picnicy day...

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JAVIER PEÑA

The Third Date by @lowlights What Laura has done here is pretty much described my perfect third date with Javier. I mean, it's Javi being soft, giving his attentions, doing soft naughty things in public. But even more than that, it's tacos, y'all. Sign me up.

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DIN DJARIN

Year of Small Joys: Stargazing by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 I love that Lyr is focusing on small joys. It's totally my jam to see my favorite characters just having a moment of peace or happiness, just to see their reaction to something I find lovely or to hear their thoughts about something I'd never stopped to notice. This time it's Din and stars, which really should be old hat for him. But he still finds a beauty in stargazing...

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OBERYN MARTELL

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #8: Oberyn Martell - Apology Kiss / Jealous Kissing by @something-tofightfor I might be living for this modern AU playboy Oberyn and his proclivity to be vulnerable in my presence, to open up and be real when hurt feelings are on the line. He did wrong, but I think he'll make up for it, and boy howdy do I want to be on the receiving end of that.

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SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

OBI-WAN KENOBI

A Chance Taken by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 I know that Obi-Wan has his duty, but wouldn't it be nice if he always harbored feelings and had plans to settle after the war? This one is living that dream....I wants it.

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BOROMIR

The Advice of Hobbits by @ironmandeficiency I mean, nobody should take advice from Merry and Pippin. And so it goes without saying that nobody should take love advice from Merry and Pippin. Ever. Poor Boromir. But I'm not gonna lie. The results are pretty cute.

[suzdin]

Okay hear me out - Tim Rockford smut. Maybe like, getting fucked on/over his desk? Just a thought. 😇

I like the way you think 😎👉👉

——

Tim doesn’t even notice you enter his office.

He’s hunched over his monitor, chin rested in his hands, face pinched tight in concentration. He was good about not bringing his work home with him—but here, in his element at the precinct, amidst the mish mosh of a particularly grisly homicide case—he was a far different animal than the Tim you shared a bed with.

His eyes are dark, brow furrowed into a hard line. You aren’t sure what he’s looking at—you don’t want to know—but you’re certain it can’t be good judging by the frown deepening his features.

You close the door quietly behind you. The small sound is enough to jar him, and his eyes brighten to a familiar honey brown when he sees you.

“Hey, baby,” he says quietly. You can sense the relief in his tone.

“Hey,” you greet in return. “I brought dinner?” you say, forming it as a question. You don’t want to interfere if he’s on the verge of a breakthrough.

“Oh, yeah, right. Of course. What time is it?” he asks.

“Seven thirty. PM,” you reply. “Knew you must be working late again, so I picked up Chinese. Your favorite,” you say, putting the bag down on his desk.

The relief you’d detected a moment ago transitions to something different, something far more un-itched, insatiable, the moment he rises from his chair and crosses the room to you, hooking both arms around your middle and pulling you into an embrace, placing a small kiss to your clavicle.

“I’m sorry I’ve been working so much lately. I miss you,” he murmurs against your throat.

You lean into the kiss, humming softly. “I miss you, too. Do you have time to eat with me?” you ask.

You feel him grin into your skin, large hands tracing a path up your sides, then once more down your back, where they settle before the dip in your spine.

“I’m not particularly hungry, but I can think of something else I’d like to eat,” he says with a crooked smirk.

“Tim! Right here? In the office?” you scoff, swatting at his wandering hands.

“Can’t think of any other reason you’d wear this skimpy little sundress at seven thirty at night if not for me…” he tuts in a deep timbre. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. “Besides, everyone is busy watching the game. They won’t pay us much mind.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, but you make no attempt to stop the roving path of his finger tips skimming just below the hem of your dress, brushing your thighs, or when one of his broad, warm hands cups one of your asscheeks.

“Mmm,” he grunts into your neck, still planting soft kisses there. “Smell so good for me too, baby.” You’re wearing Versace Yellow Diamond—his favorite.

“Okay,” you snicker, biting your lip playfully. “Alright, I confess. I wanted to look nice for you. Maybe brighten your day a little.”

He licks a slow stripe from your collarbone to the bare rise of your shoulder, pausing there to nip at your skin. You emit a breathy moan, your head dropping back.

Tim makes a noise of approval in his throat at the small sound. Eyes locking with yours, his hand moves from your ass to the soft cradle of your panties between your legs, smiling when he feels damp cotton.

“Mm. Can think of a few ways you can brighten my day.” His fingers press down harder, rubbing slowly over your clothed clit and seam. You dip your face to his chest to muffle the moan that bubbles up.

He moves his hands to your hips and walks you backwards to the desk, gently pressing you against it as you collide with the cool metal. You watch his eyes shift from dark honey to chocolate to near black, but in a way different than before. A way that you know all too well.

His hands traverse your body, kneading you under his fingers with admiration, drinking in the sight of you in that sundress; the way it clings in all the right places, shows off just the right amount of skin.

“All of this. All for me,” he whispers, hooking his fingers below, lifting the dress above your head and pulling it off.

You shiver, having never been naked in his office before. The most you’d ever done is give him a blowjob under his desk, which you’d kind of half expected to happen again. Being this exposed is as much a turn on as it is frightening.

If there’s one thing you know for certain about Tim, it’s that he likes to be in control, something you were all too willing to relinquish to him, so long as it helped to bring him out of his head about his job. And right now it seems to be doing the trick nicely.

His kisses are harder now, more ravenous, kissing and sucking everything within reach—your lips, your jaw, your neck and shoulders. His weight is pinning you firmly against the desk, one hand deftly spreading your legs as his fingers trail over the spot in your panties that is growing increasingly more wet.

Without saying a word, he spins you, your pelvis flush with the edge of the desk, placing a hand between your shoulder blades and pushing you forward until your cheek makes contact with the metal. You let out a chirp of surprise, and he hushes you, chastising.

“Shh, baby.”

You feel Tim crouch behind you, his hands squeezing your hips as he tugs you slightly back. He presses his face into your heat, strong arched nose bumping your seam as he inhales your scent.

“Smell so fucking good,” he growls, pushing your panties to the side and flattening his tongue against you, swiping a slow path between your folds.

“Oh god, Tim,” you groan, rolling your hips in tandem with his movements. “You feel…a-amazing.”

He pulls you further apart with his hands, the tip of his tongue circling your clit for a few laps, making you buck involuntarily at the stimulation. He chuckles and the sound vibrates your core, feeling like fucking heaven.

His attention returns to your fluttering hole, his tongue dipping inside of you, lapping gingerly at your walls, pressing as deep as he can, the slow drag making you thrum and clench around the small muscle.

“Taste like heaven, baby,” he praises, bringing two of his fingers up to softly swirl the bud of your clit, and it’s too much; too much and not enough all at the same time.

“Feel like heaven,” you say with a whimper, your body starting to writhe from all the stimulation, a single hand coming up to depress the small of your back to keep you from squirming.

“Stay still,” he scolds, but you love it. You love to be his plaything.

You grapple for purchase on the desk, just trying to maintain some modicum of dignity and composure as Tim is slowly unraveling you from behind, and you guess by the noises he’s making in reverence to your pleasure that you coming undone is exactly what is spurring him on; he needs to get you off before he can make you his.

The sounds he’s making into your core are downright salacious, obscene, and utterly delicious, that familiar and welcome pressure beginning to flower low in your pelvis.

He senses you’re close and increases the rate of ministrations to your sensitive clit, knowing by heart exactly how much pressure to use, how much you enjoy. At the same time, his cheeks hollow to drink and suckle at your opening, the combination of his mouth and fingers threatening to completely unmake you by the time he’s through.

You bite back a sobbing moan and then you’re coming, hard, into his mouth, his hands planting you firmly in place while he rides out your high, his own soft moans and chirps of satisfaction muffled deep in the tunnel of your pussy.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re protesting that it’s too much, the sensations are too much, tears threatening to spring from your eyes from the overstimulation. “Wish we were in bed so I could hear those pretty sounds at full volume,” he croons.

He stands, one hand still heavy on your back as he rises, and you hear the metallic clink of metal, the grinding of a zipper. Next thing you know, you feel the rock hard press of him at your opening, teasing you as he gathers your slick.

You can practically feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, how much he needs this release.

“You don’t have to go slow, Tim,” you tell him. “Use me.”

He doesn’t make any sound or any attempt to move, at first. You wish you could see his face so you could know exactly what he’s thinking, though you’re pretty sure you have a good idea.

His fingers curl into the heel of your back. “Use you,” he repeats darkly. “I’ll use you.”

His hips abruptly snap forward into yours, sinking himself all the way to the hilt, balls slapping into you from behind, all of it causing you to cry out.

“Quiet,” he scolds again, soon followed by a roar of cheers you hear from beyond his office door, the rest of the precinct still watching the game a telling reminder that you aren’t alone. “Here.”

A thin strip of leather is lowered in front of your face, smelling distinctly of him. “Open up.”

Your mouth drops open and he pushes his belt between your teeth; you bite down, understanding the implications of the silent ask.

“That’s it, baby. Every time you want to scream, bite down harder for me, okay? Imprint yourself on me.” The words go straight to your core and you moan, the belt already working like a charm as your noises get lost in the leather.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He grabs your arms by the wrists and twists them behind your back, holding them in place with his much larger hand as he rails into you from behind, a preferred position of his. He loved having you completely pinned like this. He knew you loved it, too.

The wet squelch of where he’s currently driving into you is loud and indecent in the small office, the desk groaning under your combined weights. You’ve never let him fuck you here before, but you always knew he wanted to. It was thrilling and terrifying knowing someone could hear, someone could walk in at any moment and catch you—see just how much he loves to make you fall apart.

His own release is imminent, not too far on the horizon now, with how tense and worked up he’s been. You know you’ll probably cum again when he does, the sensation of his spend shooting into you often piloting you once more over the edge, each stutter step of his hips as he grows ever closer sending delicious vibrations straight to your core.

You moan and bite down harder on the belt, the sound dying in the leather and the column of your throat.

He snarls from behind you. “You ready for my cum, baby?” he asks, breathlessly, barely able to get the words out, so close to coming undone.

You can’t speak, so you nod fervently in response.

“Yes— oh yes. Gonna fill you.” A deep, dark growl rushes out of him, loud enough to be heard by someone who might be paying attention, and you think he probably needs the belt more than you do.

He cums deep inside of you, thick ropes of semen painting your walls, driving you to your second orgasm; you go boneless beneath him, clenching tight around his length, sucking him in further. You would cry out, if you could. Instead, you dig your teeth further into the belt, tasting the leather on your tongue.

“Good. Fucking. Girl,” he growls, each word defined by a rut of his hips as he empties the last of himself into you. “So— so fucking good to me.”

You feel a string of cum dribble out of you as he pulls out, and he chuckles, peering down at you to admire his work.

“Look at you, fucked full of me,” he says, plunging two fingers deep in your pussy to push himself back inside. “Want you leaking me the rest of the night.”

He helps you up and redresses you, sliding the dress back over your head and straightening it out for you, making sure you look nice and proper once more. You kind of wish you didn’t.

“Alright,” Tim says, kissing you affectionately, his love for you far greater than what he can articulate. “Let’s have dinner.”

[bluestar22x]

The Morning After

The Rockford Files - The Morning After

Summary: Waking up with Tim

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (Both in their late 40s)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 400(ish)

Warnings: Mentions/hints of smut, nakedness

Author’s Note: Brushed the dust off this series for a oneshot. As with most oneshots I write you do not need to read the series to read this. This was created for @trulybetty as a part of cat and han's 2024 friendship exchange @swiftiscruff and posted early cause I goofed the date.

Apparently the oneshots for this series have to all be lead ins to love scenes. I'm okay with that.

I dedicated this to Truly because she's been a really supportive mutual, and I know how much she loves Tim. Hope you enjoy this. <3

xxx

You woke up to the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the roof, in a drowsy haze, toasty under the shared blankets in bed and more content than you could recall ever being.

Yesterday had been one of the best days of your life and you pulled your left hand out from under the covers to make sure you hadn't dreamed it.

Nope. The gold band was still there on your fourth finger. Your heart leap at the sight of it, just like it had when Tim had slid the ring into place the day before, and you grinned.

You rolled over to face his side of the bed, finding him sprawled out on his back beside you, under nothing but a sheet as he often was, even during Portland's crisp spring weather.

He was sound asleep, snoring lightly even, and he had the worst case of bed head that you had ever seen on a man, something you were pretty sure you had contributed to quite a bit.

You smiled at the memories of your previous night together. They compelled you to follow through with the idea forming in your head.

You got to your knees and, still under the blankets, swung a leg over Tim's hips, settling your naked core over his equally unclothed body.

"Tim," you murmured softly, pressing your palms to his toned chest, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

He stirred, blinked up at you with hooded eyes, and a small smile curved the edges of his mouth. "Well, this sure is a pleasant view to wake up to," he said groggily, voice gravelly from lack of use.

You ground yourself against him and he groaned loudly. One of his hands flew to your upper thigh and gave it a squeeze. "I would've married you sooner if I knew this was what it was going to be like."

You chuckled. "I can't make promises for every morning, but our days off, why not?"

"I'll take it," he told you, sitting up and kissing you before maneuvering both your bodies so that he was the one over you, pinning you to the mattress under his weight, his strong hands gently restraining your arms at the wrists.

"As much as I love you above me," he said, pausing to nip at your chin, "I recall it being my turn, Mrs. Rockford."

You let yourself completely relax and beamed up at him playfully. "Sounds good to me, Mr. Rockford."

Who knew a stay-at-home honeymoon could be so fun?

xxx

Others Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Tim Rockford usually works alone and has a bad temper, one day after another woman was found dead he started to believe there's a serial killer around, maybe a useful help will come from an aspiring mystery writer.

Series warnings: use of you, violence graphic, slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, eventual smut (18+ MDNI).

Masterlist

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Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Summer, Austin, TX

That day it was hot as hell, Tim Rockford looked towards the bridge and then he observed the trees surrounding it, he stuck a cigarette between his lips without lighting it. The ground at that point was damn dry, it would have been difficult to spot any footprints. He approached the victim again, her gaze, those wide eyes caused him an unknown shiver that reverberated down his spine. She was not his first case, she was not the first victim, but somehow he felt like a fucking newbie.

"Hey boss," the young recruit who had been called to join him a few months before greeted him.

"'morning," he returned the greeting.

"That's awful, whatcha think?" he asked observing his boss.

"Dunno yet." he replied scratching his chin and taking the cigarette from his lips and putting it back in the pack "Found anythin' 'bout her?" he asked kneeling next to the victim.

"Her name was Alicia McNail, 23. She lived in Austin since a couple of months, she moved from Nevada to study architecture," he started to share informations about her, but Tim wasn't listening anymore. He observed her fingernails and he noticed mug on victim's chaps.

"What d' ya see?" Tim asked to the young boy who was holding his little notebook in his hands.

"Uhm, maybe--" he looked at the young man next to him, he shook his head noticing that the boy didn't even know where to look.

"You're as useful as intelligent!" he blurted out impatiently.

"Sorry, boss, but don't know where--" he started shaking his hands.

"'S there somethin' that should not be here?" he asked directing the recruit's attention.

"Yeah, well-- she's half naked,” Tim nodded "her hair is a mess and full of mud,"

"Bingo!" Rockford exclaimed "Which means?" he asked again.

"She was killed somewhere else." the boy replied.

"Right!" Rockford exclaimed again, pointing a finger at the young man. “And, what else?”

"Drag marks are missing."

"Yeah, bu' she may've been dumped here." Rockford suggested.

"Correct, but there's no tire marks or signs that someone left her here." the other replied.

"So, what d' ya hypothesize?" Tim asked again.

"Dunno, boss. It looks like she was dumped here from-- uhm a ghost. It scares me to death." the young man added with a sigh and a contrite expression.

Tim looked at the young man who really had a scared expression, he decided not to say anything else "Have the forensics take photos, tell 'em I want photos of the ground, of the place, anything. Any detail, even the most insignificant one. If necessary also photos of the river water!" he ordered, turning his back on the victim and approaching his car, he opened the door and entered.

Then he left the crime scene, he had to drink. He concentrated more when he indulged in a few glasses of scotch or whiskey.

The ice cubes touched the officer's teeth, and that's when Tim remembered another detail: the victim's broken teeth. Her body was covered in mud, there were even traces in her hair, her nails and teeth were broken, but there was something that clashed with the violent image that Tim had before his eyes.

What was that?

He walked back and forth in front of the evidence board, what was he missing?

The photos of all the previous victims were there, their glassy eyes seemed to stare at him, there were unfortunately so many things in common between them: age, sex, the mug in their hair, all of them had been found half-naked, there were no footprints on their bodies, no footprints around their bodies. The ground then in those days was particularly dry, which did not help the investigation.

"Fuck!" he blurted out.

Someone knocked on the door, "YES?!" almost screamed Rockford turning suddenly toward the door that opened a few seconds later. It was that pain in the ass from the morning again "Boss," he said as he walked in, "there's a phone call for you, apparently there's a person who will be assist you for the next few days." he informed him in a trembling voice.

Tim rolled his eyes and huffed "Who the fuck is he?" he asked unceremoniously.

"Dunno, apparently she's a young journalist or something who…"

Tim dismissed him by moving a hand as if to tell him to leave him alone and the young man obeyed, when Rockford did that it was better to leave him alone. The Detective didn't give a damn who would come, even the Pope could have come at that moment he wouldn't have cared. He had this bloody horrible case on his hands and he couldn't get his head around it, it was driving him crazy.

You had been writing since you were a little girl, first writing on pen and paper and always leaving around the house your notebooks on which you delighted in telling the most different stories. Your parents had noticed from an early age this predilection of yours and this marked imagination to the point of pushing you to attend courses, masters and whatever else just to help you achieve that goal and make your dream come true.

Unfortunately, however, your dreams had collided with reality, in fact, everywhere you turned you found dozens and dozens of aspiring writers and therefore in the end no one was really interested in publishing your novels since they were defined as already read or not interesting enough or still too far from reality. Fantasy or romance novels were no longer going the way they were a few years ago, people wanted to read something real, according to the many possible publishers you had relied on to publish your work. As the years went by you were getting more and more desperate because you wanted to write, you had the need to write, but no one seemed to want to listen to you. You were about to give up when your father proposed what you had always refused which was to introduce you to a friend of his who worked in certain offices in police departments and whom your father had called a big shot, a guy named Craig Parker.

You had always hated recommendations, but then you told yourself that deep down your father just wants you to meet this man who will probably share some data just so he can make you draw from reality and make your stories more authentic. You told yourself and repeated to yourself as you walked into the police offices and looked around as if you were a thief about to be caught stealing. You looked around, but no one seemed to pay attention to you, you saw two officers behind a desk on the phone, two were making photocopies, another was making coffee, yet another looked scared and contrite, then there were several offices with closed doors. You approached the younger policeman who, as soon as he heard you approach him, almost jerked out of his chair, you smiled at him with a sorry look and reassured him about your intentions.

You still smile at the memory of that day and the first meeting you had with Agent Paul Hancock.

"I'm here to see Commander Craig Parker," you said as you looked the young man in the face.

"Y - yes, um, it's that way. Shall - shall I take you there?" the young man asked as he got up from his chair and before you could answer, he led you down some corridors filled with offices from which you could hear the phone ringing in the distance.

"Here." he said as he knocked on a door on which was written "Commander C. Parker," a deep voice invited the officer to enter, which the young man immediately did, you heard him introduce himself and then leave the room, "Go in," he said with a polite wave of his hand.

"Thank you." you said with a nod and a shy smile and then entered.

The man in front of you was a big man of almost 6 feet, dark skin, black eyes, graying hair, and a strong physique.

You remember feeling a great sense of fascination at standing in front of the man who certainly knew your father and who knows maybe he knew you as well or by name or maybe who knows maybe you had even met when you were little.

"'Morning," You said shyly with a small smile.

The big man smiled at you, revealing very white teeth and almost assuming a funny expression.

"Please, have a seat," he said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk; you agreed to sit down. You still remember the uneasy feeling you felt at being seated in that chair, you even remember the sweat beaded your forehead. You swallowed uncertain about what to say.

You looked around and observed the countless certificates posted on his wall, the dozens of pieces of paperwork stacked on the furniture behind him, then went back to observing the man standing there with his hands crossed and looking serene. You lowered your gaze and cleared your throat, the man finally understood your discomfort because he decided to add, "I knew your father since college, we were great friends. Y' know, we always kept in touch. Your father is a sincere, good man to whom I owe so much." he confided making you look up "When he asked me to help his daughter, well," he just spread his arms wide "how could I say no?" he smiled at you and you weakly returned that smile.

"Um, is it…legal what…?" you began to ask, unsure about the words to use. You were still talking to a Commander!

"Let's say you'd technically be here as a consultant, or something like that," he answered your question.

You furrowed your brow, "Um, but isn't a consultant someone who specializes in helping you police to solve crimes, frauds or whatever?"

"Yeah, but for your father and therefore for his daughter, we're going to pretend that you're," you were about to ask him if he could do that, if it was within his power, but again he was the one who anticipated your question you were about to ask, "of course it's something that'll remain between me, you and the man you're going to assist who obviously needs to know who you are,"

"Of course, yes."

It was obvious, you were just there to draw on the reality of the facts, to get insights to be able to write about, not to really solve cases.

"Obviously anything you hear or see, keep it to yourself, and of course if one day, when you write, it occurs to you to mention these events, be as discreet as you can be." you nodded "Got it?"

"Yes." you replied in a low voice.

What are you getting into?

"Well, now d' you want to meet the man you're going to assist?" he asked as he got up from his chair revealing himself again in his impressiveness, you also got up from your chair and with a nod he invited you to follow him. Behind him you felt so little, his footsteps echoed down the hallway, when you thought he was going to lead you to a basement or something, he stopped in front of a glass door, behind it was a man walking back and forth across the room. He had broad shoulders, dark hair, an angular nose, and chewed the bar line of glasses.

The Commander knocked a couple of times and then entered, you politely waited outside, the door was open and technically you could enter considering they were talking about you, but you just stood there shaking hands, the only thing you heard clearly, beyond Parker's introduction of you, was the annoyed and rancorous tone of the other man in the room who gave you a piercing head-to-toe look that made you duck your head and the words, "Don't need she playing Nancy Drew next to me."

You'd have laughed if he wasn't talking about you, but since he'd given you that nickname at first glance you were hurt, only later you'd take it as a compliment, but much later.

[absurdthirst]

Tim Rockford MasterList

**All ratings are individual to each story. Read warnings and tags at the top of the stories

Cracking the Case

Evidence of a Date - Sex Pollen

[popcornforone]

Thinking

A Soft Detective Tim Rockford Fic

We got newish Rockford this week but I was already writing this & was like well let’s share this with everyone.

How can some short little adverts make us all crazy for this man, but especially this moment. The number of people who go weak just for this (me included) is crazy. So I wanted to write about how it makes us all feel.

Synopsis: Morning meeting at the police station are changed forever when Detective Rockford wits a few seats away from you.

Word count 1.7k

Warnings: not many at all there’s no smut here. We mention what the reader would like Tim to do to them, but there’s a lot of pineing, flirting & unrequited love, sex is mentioned & a small amount of swearing but nothing to much. a little bit of jealousy & angst but it’s not over the top. I just want to talk about that hand around his neck that’s all.

All comments & feedback are welcome, thanks for the read peoples. Enjoy

Meetings are the worst & best part of your day as a police officer. There’s no lying about it or denying it anymore to yourself, it is now what you expect. Dread & anticipation.

It’s the worst because your alarm goes off at 5:30am. It’s the worst because as someone who’s currently working traffic, your job doesn’t change. You fly up & down the main roads & motorways catching uninsured or dangerous drivers. Everyone’s got an excuse as to why they were doing 85 in a 70 speed limit. You’ve heard them all before. You are the best behind the wheel, & not only do you know it but so does everyone else when you see them. Your partner gets to question the drivers but your get to chase after them.

Meetings are bad due to the fact that unless there’s a sting or traffic control you’re not needed. Everytime you work the core hours of 8:30 to 6:00 you know the first 30mins of your day is a waste of time. You could have had the extra half hour asleep or eaten a better breakfast but you don’t.

But there is a reason why you do all this. Why you check the next days rota before you leave, why you get up & do your hair & make up at 5:30am when an alarm could go off at 6am & you’d be here in plenty of time. It’s to look at something, some one. It’s to look at Detective Tim Rockford. The man of your dreams, the man who melts your soul & the man who probably has no idea you exists but every moment you are in his presence, it make you want him to just once, shoot a soft smile your way.

You’d not noticed this until 10 weeks ago. You’d sat at a desk in the meeting room ready to hear what will happen for the next day. It’s 2 rows from the back & furthest to the left. Perfect place to sit to not pay attention. You’d got there early by accident, traffic had ironically been in your favour for once. So you grab the desk for you & your traffic partner Winslow to sit at. About 8minutes later another officer walks in & sees you at the desk & frowns, you are unsure why you’ve never spoken to her before let alone given her a reason to seethe at you. The room then fills up over the next few minutes & the last person who arrives just as the agendas are read out is none other than Tim. He always walks in late, he is extremely busy but you’re pretty sure it’s an ego thing. He sits 2 desks in front of you after he asses who’s in the room & sits down. He’s perfectly in line with the gap Between the two people in front.

Tim then does the thing, his over thinking tick, or as what most of the room sees is just his hand touching his neck. But it’s not to you & about 3 other women in the room & you have no idea why your are transfixed by this slight head roll & his hand scrape around his neck. But in that moment there is nothing you would not do for Tim, you would move heaven & earth for him. For just a smile or a slide glance. It’s not even looking at his big puppy dog eyes that the world is obsessed with (& by world you mean 80% of tv stations). Everyone wants a brief moment of the detectives time.

& that was 10 weeks ago. Winslow knows you like him & keeps saying to you, just go introduce yourself, just say hi just sit at that desk. But you won’t. The mystique around him & this move of his hand, is now apart of your morning routine & Winslow knows one look at that hand & his neck makes you more awake & alert than any coffee. He’s your fix & drug & it’s what you need to see to get you through the day.

So there you sit at 8:15 chatting to Winslow about what films we both watched last night. “If you were in a film by now you & Tim would have had a meet cute” “ha” you laugh “nah I’d be the random best friend who gets to talk wisdom to the main character who gets to talk to the man once but not enough for you to care about” “oooh no girl you’ve got to be the main character in the story of your life.” “Who’s not the main character in their life?” & you freeze. Tim sits down in the chair in the row in front of you. Your face probably looks like it’s in sheer panic because that’s how you feel right now, completely panicked. “Oooh we were just talking what movies we have watched recently”Winslow answers when you don’t as they kick you under the table to snap out of your trance.

“You okay?” Tim says & says your name with a small smile. A smile that makes you go weak, the smile you’ve always wanted to see. His dark caramel eyes under his glasses shinning as pools of delight. His holster making him even broader that he looks from behind. He is the epitome of handsome & he is perfect. The perfect man. & he’s speaking to you, giving you some time. “Sorry” you say “I have a lot on my mind a the moment” you think he’s noticed that yours looking at him. “I’m always here if you want..” he starts but then in comes the chief to discus what’s happened over night & Tim removes his glasses casually & turns around to face the front.

When he does the thinking hand thing, millimetres away from you about 10 mins in, it’s even better than 2 rows away. The neck on those broad shoulders just rolling to wake him up. If you leaned in more maybe you could hear it creek. All those crooks perfect for nuzzling your head in after having sex. His after shave waving past your nose. So musky & rich & spicy just like him. But it’s all about the hand. Forget the whispy hair that you’d love to run your hands through. It’s all about that hand. So large, such s span in width with long delicate fingers. It grasps as it curls around his neck. Nails that are pristine, knuckles ready to be kissed. It’s literally a 3 second move the roll of the neck & the hand wrapping round it while he thinks but it’s exactly what you need. You do a soft gasp when he does it the second time today & hope he didn’t hear you be effected by the most perfect hand in the world.

Tim doesn’t even acknowledge you as he leaves, he grabs his mug & he heads back to his department & Winslow once the detective has left says “well was it worth it, for the moment to be that close?” You friendly slap him, “that was insane nothing is ever going to best that, we don’t have to make sure we get this chair again now for these meeting, that was perfect” Winslow smile at you & we both grab our notes & leave. You’re on a Rockford high all morning, you even let the person whose insurance expired this morning, off with a fine when they said their insurance started tomorrow.

You get back to your desk & there’s a post it note there which just says coffee? Starbucks 2pm? You look around to see who might have left the note, but you have no idea at all. Could this be a proper meeting or is it a friend or a message not taken down properly. But you don’t care & someone wants to buy you decent coffee at 2pm. You grab your jacket & clock out for your hours lunch & head to the Starbucks. You’re shocked when you get there & Tim is standing at the counter with two coffees. “Your here” he says excitedly & you’re shocked that it’s him & that he’s excited to see you as well “& miss out on free coffee? never” you smirk & you take my coffee from him.

He does the hand thing with his neck while facing you standing at the counter, his face looking all shy before those eyes flutter at you looking so innocent & full of love, soft but also seductive. You gasp & then his smile creeps in across his face. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last 10 weeks” he says & he blushes.”what Tim?” You blush as you reply “what is it?” “That gasp I’ve had dreams of hearing that, it’s all my mind can think about” & you’re taken aback. The man you think about each night has been dreaming of you to.

“I’ve just been to shy to turn around until today when I arrived on time, I’m so glad that i did.” Tim offers you his hand “this hands all I’ve been thinking about Tim” you finally admit & you hold it. A rush of emotions coming to the surface for both of us. “Maybe we should sit down for a while & talk about being shy & over thinking together” Tim says & gives you a small peck on the cheek, “& maybe I can then think up the courage to ask you on an actual date.” Tim concludes & the two of you sit on the sofa in silence just drinking coffee & smiling at each other waiting for the other to own & not over think anymore & start up a proper conversation which might lead to more than gasps.

Chapter 2

[catharticartist]

My current obsessions are such a mess….that being said if you also like these things….friends?

-FNAF(movie)

-MCYT Secret life

-The Shinning

-Bucky Barnes

-Merge Mansion

-ACookieGod

-Scream 1

-Minecraft

-Starwars

-Drawfee

[beecastle]

The Rockford Twins (prelude)

Summary: Tim and Thomas are twins, and they are exact opposites of each other. One will end up being a detective, the other a thief. Will the detective be able to catch the thief or will the thief manage to get away?

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: discussion of crime, child arrest, a lot of backstory

A/N: Thank you @littlemisspascal for beta reading and encouraging this idea! This all literally exists thanks to you.

MASTERLIST

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On the rainiest night of the whole year, at precisely one minute before midnight and two months before their due date, the first baby of a set of twins was born. He didn’t cry. Instead, he stared at the midwife with big brown eyes, as if trying to figure out what was happening in this new and curious world. 

His brother followed a measly two minutes after, and unlike the other baby, the second he came out of the womb he was kicking and screaming. It took a whole 15 minutes and three nurses to get him to settle down enough so he could join his brother who was already sleeping in his mother’s arms. And as soon as he did, he squirmed around as if trying to get the whole attention to focus on him.

Looking back one could say that was the start of their rivalry. A rivalry that would follow them as they grew, a rivalry that would make the space between them grow larger and larger each year, a rivalry that would eventually involve the whole world. 

-

As kids, when their mother was asked to describe them, she would always emphasize that they were exact opposites of each other. 

“Day and night,” she would say between laughs unaware that her innocent phrase would be seared into her kids’ minds. Day and night. Light and dark. One was good, and one was bad. They had to be, that’s how opposites work. Now the only question left to answer was which kid was which. 

-

Thomas Jacob Rockford was the picture of a perfect kid. He was calm, he got good grades, and he listened to his elders. At 10 years old he was learning to play both the piano and the violin, knew Spanish well enough to carry a conversation and went to acting classes on the weekends. His parents reminded him every day how proud they were of their firstborn.

And most importantly he stayed out of trouble, but only because he was smart enough to not get caught. The plans he came up with would surprise even the most experienced criminals. And his reputation as a golden child helped too, no one ever suspected he cheated on exams or that stuff on store shelves made its way into his pockets more often than not. And as he grew, his criminal activity did too. There were bigger crimes but still, no one ever suspected a thing. 

No one except his brother that is. 

-

Timon Benjamin Rockford was the trouble child. He got in fights trying to defend either his honor or someone else’s all the time, but neither his parents nor the school ever cared about the reasons. He was always told he should be more like his brother. So little Tim watched every movement Thomas made, trying to figure out what made the other kid so perfect. Instead, he discovered his sibling’s criminal activities.

But of course, his parents never believed him when he ratted him out. There was never any evidence he could use for backup so he was told that he should stop inventing stories like that, attempting to get an innocent person in trouble was a bad thing to do.  

Tim swore he would catch his brother.

-

The opportunity to do so came when they were fourteen. Tim figured that if he asked to go with Thomas on one of his heists. If he knew where it was happening and when, he could tell his parents and they’d have no other choice but to believe him. 

“I want to go with you,” Tim whispered as he entered Thomas’ room. 

“Where?” His brother looked up from the book he was reading. 

“I want to help you commit your next crime.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Timon.” He looked back down to the book.

“Stop playing dumb, of course, you do.” Thomas sighed and placed the book down and walked towards his brother.

“Even if I did, you want no part in this, believe me.” Tim took a deep breath, he had to do this, there was no other way. If he wanted to catch him this was how he did it.

“I do.”

“Why?”

“I want to be like you.” Thomas looked him up and down and something in his gaze softened.

“Okay.”

Two weeks later Thomas told him a time and a place. They were supposed to meet at a museum, one of the backdoors would be open, Tim needed to go inside and then he would be given more instructions by his brother. This was risky, a very risky move, but this was his opportunity to get his brother caught. So he agreed to be there. 

And so his plan was set in motion. He called the police and gave them the details of what was going to go down that night. The officer informed him that a patrol would make its way there.

At 10 pm, Tim made his way into the building through the door that Thomas had promised would be unlocked. Once inside he searched for his brother but couldn’t find him anywhere, what he did find was that one of the paintings was missing. A painting was missing and his brother was nowhere to be found. This was a setup, he never intended to include him in the crime. But if that was so-

The red and blue of the police sirens outside illuminated the whole building. Tim would explain everything to them, this would all get sorted, and everything would be fine. 

But everything wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine when the officers came in, guns drawn at the fourteen-year-old. It wasn’t fine when they cuffed him and took him to the patrol car. It wasn’t fine when the police somehow found his prints all over the museum and the painting stashed in his room. 

His brother had set him up.

An innocent-looking Thomas testified that Tim had told him to go to the museum. He found it to be a weird request but still was going to go because he didn’t want his brother to be alone but he lost track of time while being at a friend’s house and he never made it. The friend, the friend’s parent, the friend’s maid, and everyone confirmed that Thomas Rockford had been at their house at the time of the robbery. He had a tight alibi. 

To the outside world, Thomas was innocent. This was all part of his plan. 

The judge assigned to the case, a gentleman known for his strict rules, took a glance at Tim’s school records which of course were riddled with all the fights he had had and the suspensions that resulted from them. With that and with the robbery, the judge decided that he was a danger to society. Tim was sentenced to three years of juvie.

When goodbyes were said, his parents looked at him disapprovingly. “Perhaps this is exactly what you need, something to set you straight.”

“Mom, dad, I didn’t do it, I swear-”

“Stop it Tim, just stop with all the lies. At least face the consequences of your actions like a man.” His father said while taking his crying mother out of the room. “Let’s go Thomas.”

“I need to say my goodbyes, I’ll be out in a moment,” Thomas replied.

As soon as the two adults left the room, the teens stared at each other, the tension filling the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“You set me up,” Tim hissed at his brother after a few seconds. 

“You set me up first. You were the one who called the police, not me,” Thomas whispered, quiet enough that Tim was barely able to pick it up. If Tim hadn’t been consumed by the anger coursing through his veins he would have been able to hear the pain in his brother’s voice. “If you had just waited, there would have been a fake painting hanging there in the morning, no one would have noticed it.”

“I-” He hadn’t wanted him to get arrested? No, that wasn’t right. Thomas was always playing some kind of game, and this must be part of it.

“I’m sorry Timmy, I am. I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” He took a deep breath and blinked the tears away from his eyes. Tim was convinced this was all part of the act for the people looking through the security cameras. “But you need to stop trying to catch me brother. You will never be able to, just stop and save yourself the pain.”

[alraedesigns]

Just a quick scene from chapter 1 of Black Days by @something-tofightfor I'm so behind on all of my Pedro reading but I really hope he gets his key lime pie 🥧

If you're a Pedro fan and love reader inserts, you have to check out Rachael's masterlist. She's covers a huge chunk of his characters and has written boatload of wonderful content!

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: July 24

Reading’s been slow and I’ve been catching up on some favorite stories, picking away at my list whenever I have a spare night. There’s definitely a lot to love here....

🪐 = Year of Themed Creations work!

DIETER BRAVO

Love Machine by @scarerjh  Um okay, this is silly and sweet and I had two major reactions reading it: 1. The names of Dieter’s testicles. 2. The last line melted me.  My heart. My soft, gooey, Dieter loving heart. <3

Circle, Circle by @insomniamamma​ 🪐  This is so warm. I love how much home reader and Dieter have in each other. There’s something that aches here a little, a wanting to belong, a closeness that never really seals the deal but is in every way even more profound than a romantic connection. He’s such a mess. To love him that way would certainly be a disaster. But to let him know you always have his back? He’s yours forever.

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JACK DANIELS

Learned Something New by @wheresarizona  A short and spicy bit that starts in the thick of things, involves a saucy homecoming, and has some bite to it. And Jack? I think he likes it. Me too, Arizona. Me too.

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TIM ROCKFORD

Black Days (Chapters 1-5 and Interlude) by @something-tofightfor  It starts off sweet enough, a gumshoe in a 24 hour diner, a waitress working the late shift, I’ll leave you a pot, don’t wanna bug you, you’re gonna love the key lime pie...and all at once, Rachael has me falling in love with another man with roadblocks to commitment, thinking he can’t offer good enough. Not a problem, I say. Chapter 2 grabbed my heart and would not let go. I am all for getting some good sleep with detective Rockford. But once we get to the interlude and it’s evident just how much he likes her... I’m simultaneously sighing and white-knuckling my laptop....

Rockford & Roan (part 3) by @littlemisspascal Now that this matched duo is living together, more is coming to light. Even if Roan is tiptoeing around privacy, it’s surprising that Tim really doesn’t want there to be any. And good, because Roan is very intent on learning why there is a murder map in Tim’s office....and so am I.

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JOEL MILLER

Surrender (Chapters 7 - 9) by @ezrasbirdie Daisy’s such a sweet character and I just want her to be happy. Chapter 8 especially twists my heart as it mirrors much of the plot of “Kin” and how she’s worried she may not be. If only she knew just how crazy Joel is about her...but how loyal he is to his mission... But it’s okay because chapter 9 more than makes up for it. Boy and howdy.

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PERO TOVAR

The Herbalist: Part 6: Illiterate or Stupid by @blueeyesatnight This series is just so much fun; Kitty and Mouser make a good Victorian exasperated-with-each-other-but-loving-family team. This chapter is my favorite so far as Pero’s skills start to show....as the armor comes out...as a little wanting pulls at him. But also, terrible monsters in the dark, a fog that creeps, axes and swords slash, a possible tragedy at hand, and an amazing revelation cliffhanger. I’m so hooked...

Euphoria Part 1 by @deadhumourist 🪐  In a year of science fiction, we get this fun story of our favorite mercenary having laid down his sword to become a simple cooper, only to be scooped up and waking up in very strange surroundings. If you’ve ever wondered how Tovar would react to an alien abduction, you’re gonna have so much fun with this...

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EZRA

Seven Tears (part 6 and 7) by @grogusmum  And just like that, this beautiful, loving selkie story comes to a satisfying end. I’ve loved this story since the beginning and these two have been through enough longing and worry. There’s a scene in part 7 that is particularly magical and lovely; you can’t miss it. It’s so good to see them have a happy ending...what I wouldn’t do for a man like Ez...or a seal like him....

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MULTI PEDROS - FRANKIE MORALES AND JAVIER PEÑA

Pancakes by @beecastle I’m not gonna lie to you, if I woke up to Frankie and Javi making pancakes for me and calling each other honey I’d just assume I was dreaming or dead and gone to heaven... it’s so very very very soft.

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