#nyla talks too much

[thatwolfnamednyla]

I've fallen in love with N from Pokemon after playing Black for the first time last summer and the lack of N fanfiction is so devastating 😭

Especially when you remove any N/Hilda or N/Hilbert fanfics. Cause they're teenagers and N is an adult. And like, I want to give the benefit of doubt to a lot of fanfic writers that maybe they just want a character in the place of the protagonist and they don't actually ship N with a teen and are using Hilbert/Hilda as shorthand for a generic character, especially if they specify that the protags are meant to be aged up, but I don't know. It still makes me feel iffy.

I feel like more people should just...make an original character to ship with N. Just make an original character and say that the character is taking the place of the protagonist. That would make things so much easier and less uncomfortable.

But most people don't do that and I am starving for N content AAAAAAA

if anyone has any recommendations, whether it includes romance or not (completely fine with platonic interactions, especially if it's platonic N and Hilda/Hilbert because they should be friends and N should have a healthy support system and people who care about him and learn how to have fun and live life not being in a cult!!!!), please share!!!

[kanerallels]

For @chenford-prompts 2 Weeks of Chenford, prompt: Injured.

This is set sometime mid season four, and is obviously not canon compliant. It's also technically a deleted scene from a fic I'm posting later this week, but doesn't have any real spoilers. Oh, and it was inspired by a piece of art by @accidental-spice, that I will link here when it's posted!

(TW for hospitals and injury)

Tim felt like he spent a lot of time in hospitals for someone who wasn’t a doctor. Sure, it was bound to be a part of his job— hazard of being a cop was you got hurt. A lot. And he was fine with that.

It was when it was someone else who got hurt on his watch that things were different.

He glanced at the bed he was sitting next to, and his heart twisted in his chest at the sight of Lucy Chen, pale and motionless, hooked up to a heart monitor. He hated seeing her like this. It was unnatural for her to be anything less than bright and energetic and full of life.

She’d been shot on patrol. A shooter had gone after him, and she’d tackled him just in time. Just in time for him to be safe, and for her to be hit herself.

Tim could still feel the panic swelling in his chest at the sight of the blood welling through her shirt as he clung to her, begging her to stay with him. She’d been unconscious by the time the ambulance reached them.

But somehow, miraculously, she was alive. The surgery had been fine, and she was supposed to wake up by the next day. The others had been in to visit her— Jackson for a brief stint, Lopez and Wesley right behind him with Thorsen. Genny had been one of the more recent visitors, carrying a bag with his things, and had walked out again with Nolan. He’d stayed longer than almost any of the others— besides Tamara, who had been right there with him for hours, until the Greys insisted on driving her to their house, where she would stay the night.

Tim hadn’t moved from his spot in hours, and he didn’t intend to. Clasping his hands, he bowed his head, emotions swirling in his chest.

She’d taken a bullet for him. And that had landed her in the hospital. I failed. Again. I couldn’t keep her safe.

“Neck deep in the guilt spiral already?”

Tim’s head snapped up at the sound of Harper’s voice. Handing him a disposable cup, she said, “I thought I’d bring better coffee than what they sell here.”

“Thanks,” Tim muttered, taking a sip. 

He could feel her studying him, and elected to ignore it. Finally, she said, “It wasn’t your fault. Lucy knew what she was doing.”

“She was jumping in front of a bullet meant for me. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Nyla said flatly. “Don’t try and take the credit for it. Lucy made the choice to protect you, and she wouldn’t want you to be worrying about it like this. Don’t make it about you.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Tim said. “I just— she shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have made the same choice any other cop would have made? Shouldn’t have protected someone she cares about?” Nyla snorted. “Sure. When she wakes up, I’d love to see you sell her on that.”

She turned towards the door, then paused, looking at him. “Accept the fact that she got hurt helping you, and then move on. Wallowing in it isn’t going to help anyone. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tim said, looking back at Lucy. Like it or not, he knew she would have said the same thing.

That didn’t mean he was going anywhere, though. Sliding his chair a little closer, he took her hand, lacing his fingers around hers. He felt Harper watching them for a minute, then she turned and left, leaving them alone together.

[writingsonsaturn]

Tim having a younger girlfriend who gets princess treatment from him, she very obviously in love with Tim, and nobody at the station believes he has a girlfriend, so one day she shows up and work and everyone gets to see and meet her and see just how much she has Tim wrapped around her finger <3

Sorry if it doesn't make sense

puppy love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: hopefully this lives up to what you were thinking!! i did my best to capture all the main elements that you wanted in the story <33

word count: 1039

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tim was notorious for being a hardass, his rough demeanor and strict ways of teaching made him seem like a total douchebag, for lack of a better word.

However, for you, he was a ball of sunshine, just don't let anyone else know that. 

Tim was awoken to the deafening sound of his alarm clock, he looked over at the red numbers, the clock reading “6:00am”, he sighed and reached a hand over to turn the blaring sound off. He turned over at the movement of your sleeping body, his hand now brushing through your hair with a small smile on his lips, waking up wasn't so bad when he got to see your face every morning.

You woke up gently at the new warmth that was on your head, “do you have to leave today?” you whispered with annoyance, one eye looking at him while the other stayed shut hoping to retain some sleep “unfortunately i do, baby, but i'll be home in time for our date” he responds, leaning over and kissing your forehead. 

He gets out of bed and heads for the closet putting on his uniform, once he’s done getting ready he reaches for his duty belt and gun that he keeps in his nightstand. Finally he leans over to give you one last kiss goodbye, “i love you, i’ll text you on break” you felt his lips move, “i love you too, be safe and come home to me” you respond as he walks out of the room gently shutting the door.

You shortly go back to sleep to get extra shuteye before having to go to your 9:00 am psychology class.

===

Tim made it to work early, going into the locker room and putting his duffle bag full of extra clothes and little snacks that you had snuck in there “just in case”, once he left the locker room he made his way to the debriefing room. “Hey Tim, you still owe me the 13 bucks for that burrito i bought you last week” Angela points out, while walking in behind him “ah right” he groans pulling out his wallet simply forgetting the little photo he kept of you in there.

The photo fell on the ground as Tim pulled out the cash, Angela reached down holding the picture “who is that?” she wonders while looking at the piece of paper “my girlfriend” he responds while holding out the $13, “you? You have a girlfriend?” she jokes “yeah, and i'm a millionaire” she finished sarcastically and walked away to sit down in her seat.

Tim just silently rolled his eyes and put your photo back in the safety of his wallet, after Grey gave his briefing, Angela and Nyla both started talking about Tim’s “girlfriend” the others overheard and suddenly everyone knew about Tim’s private life. 

“Tim has a girlfriend?” Lucy questioned, while walking over the group and grinning. “That’s what he claims, when he was paying me back a photo slipped out of his wallet and when i asked who it was he said it was his girlfriend, but i don't know who would torture themselves like that” she explained, Nolan had his eyebrows raised “come on guys, Tim can’t be that bad” Nolan continued “he probably just doesn't like us” he smiled making the others laugh. 

“Okay! Are you guys ready to stop being a bunch of highschoolers and gossiping about my love life so we can, I don't know, do our job?” Tim dead panned, they all quietly snickered, and some started getting ready to head out.

Tim heard the faint call of his name, and fast feet, “Tim! you forgot your lunch!” you spoke quickly while softly jogging towards him. “That’s what i forgot, thank you baby” Tim mentally smacked himself for forgetting the meal you had prepared for him the night before. You smiled at him, rushing as you had to get back to the campus as you had a final in 45 minutes.

Everyone looked slightly gobsmacked, realizing that Tim was in fact not lying about having a girlfriend, Angela came up to the love sick couple, “so you’re the pretty lady Tim keeps in his wallet” she spoke with playfulness, “you must be Angela! Tim talks about you all the time, im (Y/N)” you introduced yourself with a big smile. Tim smiled at you with all the love in the world, looking at you while you introduced yourself to his friends and colleagues. 

“As much as i would absolutely love talking to you guys more, i have a really important test i have to go take” you explained with haste, everyone was extremely understanding and wished you good lucks, “One last thing, Tim, before you come home will you please pick up milk from the store? I used it all this morning” everyone looked at Tim awaiting his response “Yes ma’am” he complied, you kissed his cheek and gave everyone a last goodbye before leaving.

“Man she has you utterly whipped” Aaron spoke, while shaking his head, “yeah, you are so done for sir” Celina giggled. Tim looked at both of them with a stern face immediately making them shut up and get back to doing whatever they were doing. 

“I'm glad you found someone Tim, you deserve a good person” Lucy quietly mentioned, Tim gave a silent nod of acknowledgement letting Lucy know that what she said meant a lot to him as she left and continued on with her duties.

Tim carried on with his day, doing paperwork, and counting the minutes until he came home to you.

Once he got off of work, he made sure he picked up milk and even got you you're favorite snack, as soon as he got home you two made dinner together and sat at the kitchen table, you told him how you’re very sure you passed your final with flying colors, and he told you about the mountains of paperwork that made him wish he was in bed watching a stupid reality show with you instead. 

When it was time for bed you and Tim continued to talk about random thoughts, and your futures together before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lock and Key

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!pregnant!CSIphotographer!reader

Summary: When Angela and Nyla need someone to go undercover in a women's prison, you seem like the perfect candidate. Inside with Lucy, Tim, and Angela nearby, you find more than a killer.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, murder case, very quick allusion to past sexual assualt

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Can you do another establishing shot of the bedroom?” your crime scene unit supervisor requests.

You nod, feel your baby kick, and tread carefully through the home-turned-crime scene to take more photographs. It’s no secret that CSIs can never take too many photos, but now that you’re pregnant, you wonder if there’s a way to collect them faster. You love your job; being a police photographer is wholly rewarding and enjoyable for you, but some scenes and some days are more trying than others. Being near Tim Bradford at work similarly has its pros and cons.

“Hey, mama,” Angela greets as she enters the bedroom. “Is this the primary scene?”

“We think so,” you answer softly, removing the sync cord from your camera to photograph the scene without the light.

“How are you feeling?” Angela asks, looking around the room without altering anything before your photos are complete.

“Pretty good,” you reply.

“Tim still… well, Tim?”

You nod as you move toward the corner, focusing the camera on a bloody screwdriver. Whatever happened here wasn’t quick and was undoubtedly painful. Your supervisor walks through the hall and tells you to pack up, and you nod at Angela with a smile. She hugs you before you leave, and you ready your nerves to see Tim when you return to the station.

“Wait, go back,” Lucy requests as you’re shepherded into the roll call room. “Tim, I’m going to say this slowly and I want you to listen very carefully, okay?”

“Chen,” Tim snaps.

She doesn’t heed his warning tone and begins, “You want to send the mother of your child into a prison to get intel on a murder case. Where in that sentence do you hear a good idea?”

“What?” you inquire with your hands clasped tightly beneath your growing bump.

Lucy turns, her expression guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

“We were just brainstorming,” Tim explains, walking toward you. “The woman who was murdered this morning was released from CIW last week.”

“CIW, however, is out of our jurisdiction,” Nyla adds. “So, we reached out to San Bernadino PD and they’ve agreed to let us send in a UC.”

“The problem is that the woman we need to talk to is notoriously picky about who she takes up company with,” Tim adds. “Rumor is, she has a thing for strays, she likes being around people she can protect.”

“Which, to me, sounds like she would be ready to turn on them in an instant,” Lucy interjects. “Hence my reluctance.”

“So, because I’m pregnant, you think she’d watch out for me, let me close?” you clarify.

“More or less,” Nyla answers.

Lucy scoffs and shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Would I be alone?” you whisper, looking at Tim.

“Of course not. We’d send in two officers, acting as doctors, who can pull you out any time.”

“Would it do it if Tim and Angela went in with you?” Nyla asks.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider everything. You’d be putting yourself and your baby in danger. If Tim and Angela were a call away, the risk would decrease dramatically. Before you can decide, Lucy holds your arms and hugs you.

“Don’t do it,” she says. “There’s too much at risk.”

“We can’t just leave a killer on the street,” you whisper against her.

Lucy sighs as she pulls back, and she nods. “Then I’m going in too. Get San Bernadino on the phone; I want to be closer than a doctor.”

Nyla nods, then looks at you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you state.

“We’re right beside you,” Tim promises, kissing your hairline.

“Technically, I am right beside her, you’ll be in the infirmary,” Lucy corrects. “I better get to be this baby’s godmother.”

Nyla laughs before she says, “In your dreams, single-income, apartment-sharing option.”

“What, just because you’re married and have a house, you’re a better fit?” Lucy questions. Her smile drops as she murmurs, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Alright,” Tim calls, shaking his head. “Let’s go to Chino and get some answers out of convicts.”

“They call her Pitbull,” Angela had explained before you went in. At your wide-eyed expression, she adds, “She’s essentially a guard dog. She chooses who she’ll protect and sics anyone who comes near. If you can get on the right side of Pitbull, she’ll tell you what she knows about Ringer – our victim.”

You sit on your bunk and look around, wondering if you look like a pumpkin in an oversized orange jumpsuit. When you hear footsteps outside, you drop your head and let your shyness run rampant. If it makes you seem weak, this is a better time than ever to embrace it.

Lucy unlocks the cell door, and Pitbull enters. She looks at you, running her eyes up and down your face before noticing the protruding baby bump beneath your new and temporary outfit.

“What are you in for?” Pitbull asks, her voice raspy and low.

“Stabbed my baby daddy,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your stomach. “He wouldn’t stop,” you add, letting her fill in the blanks.

As you speak, your baby kicks. The farther along you get, the more your voice seems to excite him or her.

“You don’t fit in here, Mommy,” Pitbull sneers.

You nod with your head down, telling the truth when you agree with her.

“People around here don’t like different, don’t like chicas who aren’t the same,” she adds. “What are you going to do about that?”

When you shrug, she surges forward. Her hands land on your shoulders, and you inhale when she pushes you up to make you look at her. She stops, smiles, and brushes her hand against your neck.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she whispers. “Understand?”

“Why?” you inquire.

“Because…” she drops her hand to your bump before she confesses, “I’ve got reasons you won’t understand, and you’ve got a reason to accept the protection.”

“I can’t- I don’t have anything to give you.”

Pitbull laughs as she returns to her cot. “This isn’t a tv-style arrangement; I’m giving you a gift, and I ask for nada in return. Just focus on yourself, and the baby.”

“Thank you.”

As you lay awake in bed the first night, you hear Pitbull whisper a prayer in Spanish. You wonder what she knows when she asks for the eternal protection of Ringer’s soul.

“Dr. Benson is here,” Lucy says, dressed as a corrections officer. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Pitbull interrupts, moving to block the cell door. “Dr. Benson male or female?”

“None of your concern.” Lucy barks your fake last name and repeats, “Let’s go.”

“She was traumatized by her ex; she probably doesn’t want a male doctor. Right?”

She turns to face you, and you nod sheepishly.

“So, now it is my concern,” Pitbull continues, cracking her neck to the side. “I go with her, or you get another doctor.”

Lucy sighs as she checks her watch. Pulling a radio from her hip, she asks if you can have another inmate accompany you. You recognize Angela’s voice as she begrudgingly allows it just this one time.

“Boy or girl?” Pitbull asks, glaring at the women in the cells you pass.

“I don’t know yet,” you answer honestly. “Doesn’t matter, though, does it?”

“Still your kid. Last chica I shared a cell with, she had a kid on the inside, reached out when he turned 18, and got cartas desagradables from the parents even though he was old enough.”

“Cruel world,” you murmur.

“Crueler people.”

You glance at Pitbull, wondering what she did to get her locked up for nearly half of her life. She’ll come up for parole in a few years. Part of you wants her to get out, but you know better.

“Ringer – that’s what we called her because she rung a guy’s neck for assaulting her niece…”

You know that’s not true. Ringer's niece was assaulted, but Ringer broke a lot of necks looking for the right guy. She was practically a serial attempted murderer.

“Ringer said she was going to find the kid when she got out, just long enough to apologize and let him know she wouldn’t have given him up if she’d had a chance.”

“Noble,” you muse.

“Crueler people,” she repeats as you near the prison infirmary.

Pitbull stands beside Lucy as you move to the examination table. Tim enters a moment later, looking like an angel in a white lab coat. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is styled differently. His hands on you feel the same, even if he isn’t smiling and keeps his speaking clipped and serious (though you suppose that part isn’t much different than the version of him you see at work).

“How far along are you?” he asks.

“Four months or so,” you answer.

Tim nods, then lays his hands on either side of your bump.

“Have you had a thorough exam by an OBGYN?” he inquires.

You shake your head, and he slides the rolling chair back as his hands fall away.

“She’ll need one now,” he tells Lucy. “I can call in a female colleague if that would be more comfortable.”

“Do that,” Pitbull demands.

Tim stands, nods at Lucy, and exits the room. He returns to hand Lucy a paper robe, then disappears. Lucy takes Pitbull out of the exam room while you change, and you know she will keep her out for the entire 'examination’ so you can tell Tim and Angela what you found. Angela comes in first, her brows rising at the sight of you in a jumpsuit with tight braids framing your face, courtesy of Pitbull.

“She said Ringer was looking for her son – he turned 18 while she was still incarcerated, and she vowed to find him when she got out,” you explain. “His adoptive parents wanted her far away from him.”

“That’s motive,” Angela says, pulling her phone from her pocket. “I’ll get units to the parents’ house now.”

Tim returns to your side, and you pull his hand against your bump. As you tell him everything Pitbull has shared with you, your baby kicks against his hand. Tim smiles as he bends down to kiss you, and you suddenly want to leave this prison. Pitbull’s parole is no longer a thought in your mind.

“We’ll get you out as soon as we can,” Tim promises.

Less than twelve hours later, you’re removed from your shared cell with Pitbull, taken to solitary, and then you walk out of the prison in your own clothes with your hand held tightly in Tim’s. Ringer’s killer, the adoptive father of her son, is behind bars and awaiting trial, and Angela and Nyla have yet another solved case to add to their repertoires.

“Want to grab some dinner?” Lucy asks in the parking lot. “Or breakfast,” she amends, noting the first streaks of sunlight painting the sky.

“We’re going home,” Tim answers for you.

“Thanks for everything, Lucy,” you tell her as Tim opens his passenger door for you.

“I didn’t do much,” she argues. “But anytime.”

In the comfort and safety of your home, you sit beside Tim, brutally aware of his fingers brushing along your bump where his arm is tucked around your waist.

“You did amazing,” he says.

He kisses your forehead and then your lips, and you sigh against him as your baby kicks again.

“We should find out the baby’s gender,” he says. “I know we said we didn’t want to…”

“I agree,” you reply, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’ll make an appointment.”

“You mean you���ll have me make an appointment.”

You turn your face against his shoulder and huff, your ears warming at his teasing. Tim chuckles, holding you like he never wants to let you go, and you feel exactly the same.

[simplyhale]

bed chem t.b. (18+)

tim bradford x fem! reader

summary; the anniversary of tim's divorce didn't have him in the happiest of moods, that was until he laid his eyes on you across the bar. who knew the two of you could have great bed chem?

notes; dividers are by @uzmacchiato l this is an amazing collab that i was able to do with the lovely @sleepymissy ! she had gotten a few asks about doing tim one-shots inspired by sabrina's short and sweet album and asked if i wanted to collab on one where i wrote the fluff and she did the smut. thus is how bed chem happened ! it has been an absolute blast and it turned out pretty cute if i don't say so myself. missy kept the smutt very normal and sweet so no crazy warnings besides the normal, wrap it before you tap it, divorce grump! tim, swearing, flirting, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise, cowgirl, missionary and who knows if yall really enjoy this then we might do another?

words; 4771

“who’s the cute guy with the wide blue eyes and the big bad mm?”

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

Tim Bradford isn’t an easy man to cheer up. 

Most know by now just to not bother him, allowing Tim to take it into his own hands with how he’s always done it; getting over it by not caring about it, or pushing it to the deepest part of himself possible. 

And in almost every case, it was the latter. 

But now, there is currently a third option that is making its way to him.

Lately, Lucy and Angela had been noticing Tim’s extra grumpiness, and after much going back and forth - and the fact that Nyla had searched it up - they came to the conclusion that it was the year anniversary of his divorce getting finalized. 

So, the two rounded up anyone they could and decided that what Tim needed was a night out at the bar.

Lucy is starting to worry that this actually is a bad idea. 

Maybe he isn’t ready yet, maybe he doesn’t like all the new attention either- Tim never truly likes a lot of attention on him, but damn, he’s especially quiet tonight. 

“Do you think he hates this?” 

Bailey, Angela, and Nyla heads turn to where Lucy’s big worried eyes are looking- a small seat away is Tim nursing a mid-strength beer in front of him, people-watching, of course.

“He seems like his normal self,” Angela waves her hand as she takes a sip of her drink. 

“He’s been on the same beer for the past thirty minutes.” Lucy tries to clarify, only to huff when Nyla just shrugs her shoulders, clearly not thinking too much into it. 

Bailey places her hand onto Lucy's shoulder, “If you’re worried about him then go ask him. If he wants to leave then let him. Don’t overthink it.” She explains, a reassuring smile planted on her face before she goes over to where both John and Wesley are throwing darts.

Picking up her drink, Lucy takes a long sip out of it, trying to buy enough time to fully work herself up before poking the bear.

“Hey Tim!” She slides into the empty seat next to him, not even getting a glance. “Look, if you aren’t having a good time you can leave. I- well, me and Angela…no, I roped her into this.” She shakes her head. “What I mean is we all know what today is, and just thought that maybe you would want a night out…” She draws out her last word at the realization that he isn’t paying any type of attention. Her words quite literally are going through one ear and out the other.

Following where he is currently staring is a duo on the other side of the bar, glancing back at him to see that he’s mindlessly tapping the bartop—keeping his eyes steady on you. 

She knows it’s you because when you take down your hair, slipping the black hair tie around your wrist, he stops tapping the bar and hitches his breath—almost as if he’s putting all his concentration onto you and you alone.

“Or…is it because you want to leave the bar with the hottie in the sheer dress?”

“What?” His head practically snaps towards her at the mere mention of you, the tips of his ear starting to redden.

Lucy presses her lips together, trying and failing at hiding her smile, excited to see she was wrong and he is actually moving on. “Why don’t you go and talk to her? Maybe give her your number and see what happens?”

Tim thinks about her words, looking back over to where you’re now laughing at something your friend had told you, now secretly hoping that it’s him making you laugh just to see you smile like that again; the type that reaches the corner of your eyes. 

But…maybe he doesn’t deserve to hear your laugh, to be the reason for your wide smile. Maybe he actually isn’t supposed to move on now. He could now go at least a few months without thinking about his failed attempt at a marriage, but with that crash and burn of a relationship what’s to say that his next one wouldn’t end up the same way? 

The only question is…how long would it take before it would happen? 

He couldn’t do that to you- bring you into a cluster fuck you never even knew had happened to begin with.

“I’m gonna give her your number!” This sentence, plus the sight of Lucy hopping off the stool and strolling towards you, nearly sends Tim into cardiac arrest. 

“Don’t you da—” 

Though it’s too late, because Lucy is long gone, and she watches your friend lean in towards you before walking off in the direction of the bathrooms. 

Now’s her moment to play matchmaker. 

Smiling sweetly as she takes your friend's place, earning back from you as you tilt your head curiously towards her. “Uhm, hi! My friend over there was too nervous to actually come up and talk to you. So here I am!”

You slowly turn your gaze to a very flushed Tim, who is giving a panic death glare mix towards Lucy. But, once he realises your eyes have landed on him, he smiles like an idiot, giving a small nod. 

He quickly knits his brows together, why did he do that? 

You chuckle lightly, quickly scrunching up your nose before turning your attention back to Lucy who is, once again, failing at hiding her excitement. “And I take it that you want me to write down my number?”

She nods her head, shifting her weight onto her other leg, “Yes — if you’re okay with that. I can promise you that he isn’t a creep. He's more like a…big softie.”

You laugh at her words, staring at her for a moment. 

You can’t explain why you know to trust her, but you feel deep in your bones that she’s right. No red flag is being shown to you at this moment.

Besides, if anything bad were to happen, you’ll just block him and be done with it.

Reaching over the bar, you take one of the white paper napkins along with a discarded pen, writing your name down followed by your number. 

Once you finish the small love heart written next to the last digit, you hand it to Lucy and watch as she practically skips back towards Tim's direction. 

Dropping the pen back behind the bar, you fiddle with your neck lace, awaiting for your friend to come back. 

That’s when your phone buzzes, face down on the counter top. 

You halt, somewhat hoping it’s the guy that you’ve just given your number to. 

Only, you’re met with disappointment when you realise it’s your friend. 

BESTIE <3

hey girl! so sorry to cut our night short but i’m gonna head home just got a bad wave of cramps :(

You respond to her, telling her to let you know when she made it home.

Wait, a minute-

Why are you so disappointed it isn’t the random man you haven’t even said a single word to?

Placing your phone back onto the counter face down - the photo of your cat shining through your clear case - you begin to reach for your glass, but your attention is brought back to your phone as it buzzes again. 

And again-

-And again. 

You nearly choke at what you think is your friend- is she okay?

However, you’re proven wrong.

UNKNOWN

Hey this is Tim, was wondering if I could buy you a drink? No pressure, just some casual penetration … CONVERSATION! Fuckk I meant conversation

Pressing your lips together, you smile at yourself before replying.

YOU

Auto correct really knows how to make a penetration interesting…

Looking over at him, you watch as his expression grows from furrowed brows (had he made the wrong impression?), to his face lighting up just as your response comes through. And his smile only grows with each word he reads of your message, laughing and shaking his head lightly.

In that moment you know you have your claws in him, and when he glances up at you just in time for you to send a wink his way, well, that’s all the motivation he needs to get out of his chair. 

Watching him- Tim make his way from the opposite end of the bar all the way around to the spot next to you, you quickly down the last remaining sip in your glass as you rest your elbow on the counter. Using it to prop your face up. 

“I have to say that was a great first impression!” You shout over the music.

He laughs with a small shake of his head, “Yeah, I only use those on the special ones.”

Raising your brows, you tilt your head, “Oh, so I’m special?” 

His brows knitted before leaning in towards you, clearly not hearing what you had said. So you repeat yourself, which, in return, you receive the sound of his laughter again.

That laugh causes your stomach to flutter and your mind to race with thoughts that would make the devil blush. 

Looking around, you notice that almost two bus loads of people have funneled into the bar. Along with their chattering and music, there isn’t any way for you two to have a proper conversation- you know, the respectful ‘let’s get to know each other!’ before you climb into his bed. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” 

Tim nearly breaks his neck from how fast he nods at you, mumbling over different ‘yes’s’ and ‘yeah’s’. 

Getting up and making sure to grab your phone before taking his hand into yours, you lead him through the crowded room. Walking outside, you two pass the smoking zone into a more secluded section where not a hint of being can be seen. 

You rest against the wall, and Tim finds his place next to you.

“Your friend is nice.” You start, moving a piece of your hair away from your gloss-coated lips, “A little bold, but nice.”

Tim huffs a soft laugh before he scratches the back of his neck, “Ah, Lucy…yeah- look, she thought taking me out to his bar would help me feel better.”

“Was she right?” You tilt your head, angling on your side into the brick wall as you scan his face.

Tim does the same, taking a step close enough that his warmth breath mingles with yours. His eyes drop down to the concrete, thinking. And for a moment, you expect him to reply with a ‘yes’, but-

“I don’t know.” Tim starts low., “It’s been a year since my divorce and it’s been…weird getting back out there, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything, and he must notice your overt silence because he quickly interferes. 

“Not that I’m still in love with her! God, no-” He winces, waving his hand around, “Nothing like that. It’s not like I hate her either, I’m happy things are over be–”

“You haven't done anything with anyone since the divorce…have you?” 

For a second he shuts his mouth, only for Tim to press his lips together before nodding in defeat. “How’d you know?” 

You shrug, “You’ve got that look- like you’re still trying to figure life out again.” As if you’ve known the type of person he is, you quickly hold your hands up, “Before you get defensive at all, just know there’s no judgement from my end. You’re safe to talk to me.”

And Tim might just believe that.

He takes a moment, trying to pick the right words so as to not scare you off, even worse: say something that would turn you off. 

“I guess I just engulf myself fully into work.” He sighs, “That way I don’t have to deal with…everything.”

“What do you do?”

There was the question he knew would follow up with.

“LAPD.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you, reading you with such an intensity. 

It’s the type of answer that makes or breaks people but seeing as your brows raise with a sense of excitement…mischievous, Tim might just be safe. 

“You know,” You start, unable to hide the smirk on your lips as you reach out and fondle with the hem of his shirt, “I’ve found that some secrets are better kept under lock and key.” Your voice is only a murmur, but looking up at him now, you can’t help but grin even wider as his skin - his stupidly beautiful skin - flushes.

Now he really trains on you, watching even the smallest of your movements- how you shift one foot from the other, even the hint of change to your breath. Even so he darts his focus down to your mouth as you lick your lips, then right back up to your wandering eyes.

So, you take another step up to him, getting a strong smell of his cologne, which might just knock you over with how strong it is- cedarwood, rosemary, musk. 

Reaching out for his hand, you slowly drag your nails up from his knuckles to his wrist, all the way towards his bicep. 

With your voice filled with lust, and lashes batting, you simply ask: “You wanna get out of here?” 

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

By the time you’re halfway into the door, Tim’s already onto you. 

Not that you’re complaining or anything, it is what you wanted after all.

With a hand grasping your waist, he’s pulling you into a kiss so soft yet so hungry- an emotion Tim’s been longing to feel since…forever. And maybe it’s the gloss still tinting your lips, or perhaps it’s the lingering champagne too, but God, you taste so sweet.

Without leaving the warmth of the kiss, Tim shuts the front door behind him, followed by the click of the door’s lock. Reluctantly, he pulls away, “A drink?” He asks into the midst of another selfish peck.

You shake your head, your breath still heavy against his as you meet his very own baby blues, “Tim,” You cock your head to the side, “Do I look like I want a drink?”

He takes a second to induce what you’ve said, his attention trailing from the heave of your chest, to your quick breaths, and your eyes- so needy, so true.

Fuck, the way you’re looking at him is everything he didn’t know he needed, and he’s obsessed.

“No,” He chokes, though a smile curves the edges of his mouth before he’s grasping one of your hands into his own, guiding you through the warmth of his home. “Ignore the mess, wasn’t expecting company of any sorts.” He murmurs, a shy blush showcasing on the high points of his cheekbones.

But ironically, it isn’t even messy. In fact, this may just be the cleanest house owned by a man could ever be. Sure, the odd dog toy finds its place on the floorboards, but with how homely you feel - especially when you see the light blue throw draped over his navy couch as you walk past it - you can’t help but smile.

“Please,” You turn to face him, and move your hand to wrap it around his bicep just as he begins to open his bedroom door. “Your home is beautiful. And plus, I’m focusing on…” You eye him up and down, just to really get your point across, "something else, y’know?”

“Oh?” And his voice is so fucking soft and endearing even as he raises his eyebrows when he glances at you before inviting you into his personal space. “You might have to spell it out for me, darling- got no clue what you’re talking about.”

Of course he fucking does, even when your palm gently pushes Tim down onto his own bed, followed by the gentle song of your laughter, “You! Tim, fuck’s sakes.” You shake your head, bending down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, "You’re nice to look at.”

And God damn, you aren’t wrong. Because by now, Tim’s widened his legs and he’s staring up at you with heavy eyes that are so inviting- and it would be incredibly rude to deny his offer.

Tim lets out a breathless chuckle as you take the leap when you hook one leg over his lap to sit on top of him and fuck, he’s comfortable. 

“Could say the same about you- that sheer dress is doing numbers on me.” He mutters, low and gravelly before reaching his right hand up to slide a single digit beneath one of your dress’ straps. 

The movement is tender- minimal, even, but oh, does it make you hitch your breath.

You peer down your body slowly, and a small smirk creeps up to your lips when you watch him do the same to the other neglected strap. Then, with a small grind onto the bulge Tim’s been fighting to keep sane for the last hour, you steer just a little closer to his face, “Take it off me?”

Tim wouldn’t have considered it a question, more like a demand than anything. But still, he lets out a shaky breath, “Fuck- yes, of course.” 

And he doesn’t waste a second before he’s guiding you to lay on the plushness of his mattress.

Sure, his bed is soft- but damn, was Tim softer. However, any thoughts are easy to fade away when he leans over you as he begins gliding your straps down with a touch so soothing yet blazing, and with every inch of skin exposed to Tim’s sore eyes, a wet kiss welcomes it.

Tim makes sure to look after you before he begins to undress himself- with an extra hand of care from you as well when he gives you the honours of unbuttoning his pants. Though you can’t stop yourself from halting in the motion of his zipper when you peer up just in time for Tim to tug his Henley over his shirt.

“Holy shit,” You breathe out, already feeling the pool of arousal soaking your thighs at the sight of his muscles flexing beneath the bedroom’s dim lamp, warming his skin to golden from where it stands in the corner. “Fuckin’ hell, Tim- you’re one handsome man.”

Fuck.

Something about you complimenting Tim with only a string of curse words is enough to make his neck redden. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he was admired like this. 

Of course, he knows he’s an attractive man; he’s worked his ass off to earn his toned physique and it’s evident in the stares and hushes of comments he’s received since the duration of being an officer.

But that genuine flush of adoration in your face is worth more than anything, and Tim knows from then on that you deserve the absolute world.

“Got nothin’ on you,” He gravelly replies back, biceps tensing as he finishes undressing himself, “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

And now it’s your time to blush heavily. Though, when you drag your eyes down from his baby blues, what may just be more intimidating than Tim’s words is his cock straining in his boxers. 

Jesus, it seems your manifestations that he was oversizedworked well- too fucking well.

With your mouth hanging low and wide eyes gawking, an ego-boosted Tim takes advantage of your silence by leaning close enough to your space that he’s hovering just over your silky-soft skin. And as he helps to wrap your legs around his lower back, the delightfulness of your perfume aromatises Tim’s senses- and he can’t help but inhale just an extra couple of seconds than normal to intoxicate himself in it.

When an act so intimate like sex comes into play, everyone has their own different niches. And if there’s something you’ve easily noticed by now with Tim Bradford, it’s that he’s a sweet talker. So when he mutters, “This okay, pretty girl?” as he begins to glide himself inside of you, you can’t but let out a shaky giggle in the midst of your breathlessness.

He pauses inside you, meeting your eyes, “What?”

“You just-” You squeeze his shoulders, partially out of reassurance and also to help soothe the stretch down below, “-you talk so sweet when you’re literally about to fuck me. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Tim angles his head to the side, slowly pushing into you deeper until he bottoms out, his cock twitching in delight at the sound of your hiccup when his hips meet yours. “What’s wrong with that? Can’t imagine speakin’ to you any other way.”

Your heart flutters, “Didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” And you sneak a kiss onto the corner of his lips just as you tighten your hold on his shoulders. Then, you whisper: “I like it.”

You may just be the death of Tim; your voice, your comforting eyes, your wide smile, your fucking smell, and now the warmth of your pussy as you engulf him when he finally starts to grind himself back into you. 

“God damn, baby-” A small groan escapes Tim’s throat, perfectly in sync to the faint sound of your moan when he begins to set a rhythm- nothing rough or fast, just intimate and kind. Something worth taking his time with. Something he can really appreciate.

Both of your lips meet once again in the midst of the heated moment, though it’s less polite when you’re fighting against the friction of movement when Tim continues to slide himself inside your plush walls, along with the gasps that often leave your mouths when each thrust hits that perfect spot.

“Shit- Tim,” You mewl out when he leans down to your exposed neck, providing attention to it when he trails erratic kisses to your skin, never once missing a beat to his pace. “Are you…fuck- are you free next week?"

You can feel his laughter vibrating against your skin, followed by the actual deep, shaky noise itself when he lifts his head up to stare at you, “Y’wanna do this again with me?”

Oh, how his esteem has blossomed. 

You grin cheekily, breaths and fragrances mixing together when you pull his face closer by the swift tug of your hand to the nape of his neck. “Why not? I’m sensing our-” You gasp when he fucks into you, “-camaraderie is great.”

Tim huffs amusingly, placing his forehead on yours- just in time to groan when he fucking feels your arousal coating him, and the sound of squelching from below, “Friends fuck each other, hey?”

“Well, we gotta start somewhere...” A particularly deep thrust has your breath hitching. You pull back, allowing yourself to look up at his heavy-lidded eyes before you blink. 

“Will you let a friend ride you too?”

Tim would have come right then and there if it wasn’t for the American presidents he was listing in his head.

“God damn- be my guest, darling.” He groans loudly, pulling himself out from you before he’s turning the both of you around. And you don’t waste a second before you’re crawling on top of him, finding comfort once again on his lap. 

Tucking your feet beneath his thighs, you begin to align yourself with the tip of his cock to your entrance, and Tim murmurs something about how ‘you’re gonna be the death of him’.

Then, as you engulf him inch by inch, your fingers press into his chest with brows furrowing in pure delight at the new angle.

Tim squeezes your thighs, “There you go,” He whispers, watching you in fucking awe, “just like that, sweetheart.”

You start slow, much like his pace before- intimate and kind. And as you fill yourself with his cock, his hands move from your thighs to your ass as he helps guide you up and down on him. All the while, he’s whispering praises to you while he cants his head forward to kiss each hardened nipple with his wet mouth.

“Doing so well for me,” He murmurs against your skin when he feels you clench around him, and keeps one hand sturdy on the curve of your ass when his dominant fingers brush back to the front of your body. Then, with a suck on his thumb to gather saliva, Tim lowers his wet finger on your neglected clit.

The following sounds of your pleasure is like music to his ears when his thumb moves in circular motions.

“Tim…” You draw his name out in an aching moan, and it only encourages him to flick your clit more just as you drive yourself harder onto him. “So, so good- shit.”

“You got it,” Tim then rises his hips up to meet yours, beginning a pace faster than yours that it causes your breath to catch, your hands grasping his shoulders tightly as he fucks himself up into you with such an intensity that you can’t even speak, can’t even breathe.

So instead, you lean down to kiss him, all teeth and tongue as you two moan to each hard thrust- and when Tim fastens his thumb to your clit, that’s when you feel it.

You pull back, voice shaky as you peer down at him, “Oh, I’m so close-” An admittance that Tim is so fucking delighted to hear from your pretty, ruby lips that still glisten with mixed saliva.

“I know, baby-” Tim huffs, muscles tensing with every glide of his cock that is pounded into you, “-I got you. Come with me, sweet girl.” 

And he keeps his promise, because when the touch of his fingers on your aching clit mixes so perfectly to the gentle lowness of Tim’s voice, it’s enough to make you fall off the edge- and he falls with you. 

Your name slips from his mouth just as a long moan escapes you, a hot fever washing through your head just when you feel the hot spill of his seed inside you.

“Fuck- that’s it, sweetheart.” He groans out, his cock twitching against the slow roll of your hips as you both ride out your orgasms.

Long exhales fill the warm air as you two finally finish and you can’t help yourself when you collapse onto his chest with a long sigh. 

Amongst the heap of clothes scrambled across the carpet floor, and bedsheets ruffled, the both of you lay peacefully in the midst of it all- dripping in sweat and sex and you’re still inside of him.

But none of that matters, not when Tim is so grounding; with his chest broad and cozy, and his heart thumping in rhythm to yours as you both breathe in sync, it all feels too good to not let go.

“So,” You start once your breathing steadies, finally lifting Tim’s softened cock out of you as you sit back up- but Hell, you’re not ready to leave his lap just yet. Then, you lift Tim’s left hand and take it into your own, fiddling with his long fingers delicately. “You didn’t say no to next week…”

Tim blinks down at your fingers playing with his and back up to your eyes- heavy, exhausted. He gently smiles, his heart beating in a way that feels right…feels domestic, “No, I didn’t.” 

Tim lifts his free hand up, brushing past your jawline until he meets the loose strands of your hair, and he gently tucks them behind your ear. His fingers halt by your face for a second, allowing his eyes to appreciate you before he slowly glides down to where the mess of your hair meets your shoulder, and he’s pushing the heap back to expose the curve of your neck.

He leans closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your collarbone, “I would love to see you again.” He admits quietly, stubble tickling your sensitive skin as he grazes his lips up to your jawline. He plants another kiss there, “And I don’t just mean seeing you for…this,” And finally, he moves to your chin where his lips linger on your face, only to reluctantly pull away so he can look up at you. “Let me take you on a date.”

You soften under his embrace, and a smile grows widely on you before you raise Tim’s hand your fingers had been playing with up to your mouth. There, you kiss his knuckles, and you faintly nod, “I think I’d like that a lot.”

And God, what a way to make a man feel better.

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

CHEN

sooo how did the date go? … helloooooo … oh OHH HEY TIM BE GETTING SOME ‼️‼️ 🤪😝🤩🥳 heh … good bed chem ?

[dearlenore]

NOW OR NEVER. / T.BRADFORD / SUMMARY - Life is too short for Tim Bradford to not propose..

PAIRING: police!reader x tim bradford / w/c: 1.3k / comfort

a/n: this was such a cute request tysm! / anon’s request here

The weight of the black velvet box burned a hole in Tim’s pocket. He had carried it for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment. Waiting for the right time to ask the person he loved to be his fiancée. To spend the rest of their lives together.

It wasn’t nerves that had stopped him. It wasn’t doubt, either. Tim Bradford was a decisive man. He didn’t hesitate when making tactical decisions in the field, and he certainly wasn’t hesitating now. He wanted you. A future with you.

The two of you had been dating for almost a year, and every moment had reinforced that you were the person he wanted by his side. The laughter, the stolen glances, the way you challenged him, called him out on his stubbornness, the way you made him feel like more than just a cop with a tough exterior—it was everything.

So why was he waiting?

Maybe it was because every time he saw you curled up in his hoodie, or laughing at one of his dry jokes, or patching up a scrape he barely noticed from work, he thought, I want this moment to last forever.

He wanted it to be special. He wanted to make sure that when he asked, it was in a moment that reflected just how much he loved you.

He just didn’t know that life had other plans.

Half an hour had passed and Tim was anxiously waiting for you, the soft candle glow only serving to make him more anxious.

You were supposed to meet Tim at a small , lowkey restaurant you’d both fallen in love with downtown. It wasn’t fancy but it was yours. A place where it was just you and him.

Your last text to him wasn’t out of the ordinary either.

Hate to keep ya waiting prince charming, finishing some paperwork , wait for me xoxo

But you’d never shown up.

He sat at the table, checking his watch every few minutes. He tried to push down the nagging feeling creeping up his spine. You were always punctual. Maybe you hit traffic. Maybe you forgot something and had to go back home. Maybe—

Then his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered, expecting it to be someone from work. Perhaps an update or maybe even you.

“Bradford.” Grey’s voice was tense. “Is y/n with you?”

His heart skipped a beat. “I- I thought she was at work, I’ve been waiting here for 45 minutes.” He glanced down at his watch.

There was a pause.

“Her car is in the parking lot but she left 25 minutes ago and she won’t answer the phone.”

For a moment there was a ringing in his ears, a familiar panic that he’d experienced far too many times. Tim was already standing, throwing cash onto the table as he strode out the door. “I’m on my way.”

By the time he reached the station, his worst fears were creeping in like a slow poison. Your phone was going straight to voicemail. There were no signs of struggle in the parking lot, but your keys were on the ground next to the driver’s side door.

He knew what this meant.

You hadn’t just left. Someone had taken you.

The squad hit the ground running.

Angela and Nyla took lead on digital tracking, while Lucy and Aaron combed through surveillance. Tim paced like a caged animal in the conference room, the ring burning a hole in his jacket.

“She was fine this morning,” Lucy said quietly, her voice cracking. “We got coffee. She was talking about getting a dog. Said you were finally ready.”

Tim nodded, throat too tight to answer. The thought of you—your voice, your laugh, your warmth—ripped something raw inside him.

He was going to propose. Tonight. That wasn’t supposed to be a last chance.

Two days.

That’s how long it took before a break came through—a security cam from a gas station on the outskirts of the city. You. Disoriented. Hurried. A man behind you, hand on your arm.

Tim didn’t wait. He and Angela were out the door in seconds, sirens blaring.

They found the shack twenty minutes later. Deep in an overgrown lot behind an abandoned gas station. A rusted padlock, a sliver of movement inside.

Tim nearly tore the door off the hinges.

And there you were.

Huddled in a corner, blood dried at your temple, eyes glassy with exhaustion. But alive.

“Y/N!” he breathed, voice breaking as he crossed the room and pulled you into him, arms trembling.

Your fingers fisted in his jacket. “Tim…”

“I got you,” he whispered. “I got you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Back at the hospital, the doctor said you’d be okay.

Bruised, shaken, a minor concussion. Nothing permanent. But the fear—Tim could still feel it in his bones.

You kept looking at him like you weren’t sure he was real. Like maybe he’d vanish if you blinked too long.

So he stayed. Sat beside your bed, held your hand through the night. He didn’t say much—didn’t trust his voice—but he kissed your knuckles every few minutes like a prayer.

It was 4:13 AM when you finally spoke. Quiet. Raw.

“You were gonna propose, weren’t you?”

Tim froze.

Your eyes met his, searching. Not angry. Just tired.

“I saw the ring,” you added, voice barely above a whisper. “Before they grabbed me. It fell out of your jacket at the precinct. I was going to pretend I didn’t notice.”

Tim exhaled slowly. Ran a hand over his face.

“I was,” he said. “Yeah. That night.”

A long pause. Then: “You still want to?”

The breath whooshed out of him like a punch. “What?”

Your fingers laced with his. Tight. “I don’t want to waste time, Tim. I don’t want to go another night wondering if the last thing I ever said to you was sarcastic.”

He choked out a laugh. “It probably was.”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t have the ring. It was still in his locker, where it had been since everything went to hell.

But that didn’t matter.

Tim leaned forward, forehead resting gently against yours. His hands trembled as he cupped your face.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

You blinked, startled.

“I don’t have the ring right now,” he said, “and this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but I’m not waiting another damn second. Life’s too short. Too unpredictable. I almost lost you, and I can’t—I won’t let that happen again without making sure you know how serious I am.”

“Tim—”

“I want forever with you,” he said hoarsely. “Even if forever’s messy and hard and sometimes terrifying. I want it anyway. With you.”

Silence. Then a soft, tearful laugh from your lips.

“You really are a dork.”

He smiled. “Is that a yes?”

You pulled him down into a kiss that tasted like salt and survival and the rest of your life.

The official proposal happened a week later.

You were curled up on the couch in one of his LAPD hoodies, (despite having your own) your legs over his, your head resting on his chest. The scar at your temple was still visible, but healing. And Tim—he couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for the small velvet box.

You looked up. “Tim…”

“This time, I’m doing it right.”

He opened the box. Your breath caught.

“I’ve fought bad guys, cartels, and two very angry raccoons in a trash can, but nothing’s ever scared me like almost losing you,” he said. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You kissed him again. “I already said yes.”

“Say it again.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy.”

[kumkaniudaku]

Amen

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Inspired By: Ask #1 + Ask #2

MASTERLIST

Grief was a bitch. 

A mean, ugly, unwanted bitch that had settled beside Terry as an unwelcomed guest just when he thought that he'd banished it out of his life, never to return. Over two years of joy that he'd fought tooth and nail to maintain came crashing down once grief came strolling into town without warning. 

Mike was dead. He knew that. He'd reckoned with it, talked himself through the anniversary of his death once before, sent well-wishes to his aunt every time he could, cried in the shadows, mourned, lashed out, and sat in silence with the knowledge that his little cousin would never come through the door again. Mike wouldn't see another birthday. He wasn't around for the wedding or Christmas. They'd never see another football game together. Mike would never meet Nyla. 

That fact came as a sobering realization while Terry watched his only daughter's chest rise and fall as she slept peacefully in her crib for the first time all day. A cold running through her daycare had finally latched on to her fresh immune system, turning his usually jovial baby into a shell of herself. He told his higher-ups that he needed to take the day to care for her in his mother-in-law's stead, but what he really needed was time alone to deal with his uninvited guest. 

Leaning over the sturdy walnut railing keeping his little girl safely inside her crib, he watched her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Mike would've loved her. Terry was sure of it. He'd make his way to Fayetteville at any opportunity and cause havoc, probably irritating Patrice but definitely doting on Nyla in a way that only he could. 

Tears that had been fighting to see the world all day pricked Terry's eyes yet again. He almost let them fall but found himself blinking them back once Patrice pushed open the door and poked her head inside. 

She smiled despite work wearing her thin and waved with her fingers. "Can I come in, or would that be too much?" 

"Of course, you can," he answered, trying to put on a brave face to hide the true turmoil inside. 

Seeing her stand there, her bright smile directed at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars, was the first time he'd felt anything other than the weight of regret. He needed her to come into the room. 

Tiptoeing, Patrice approached Terry and peered over the crib's railing to look at Nyla. "How was she," she whispered before softly touching her forehead to check for heat. "Doin' any better?" 

"A little. I got her to eat and play for a bit before the medicine kicked in. She should be out for the night and good enough to sit with your mom by the ceremony on Monday. But, we'll see." 

"Good. Thank you for taking the lead. I know she was happy to have you around." She took a second look at her pride and joy, then focused all her attention on Terry. Worry and sadness had found a home on his brow line as they remained furrowed in thought. She leaned her head on his forearm and looked up at him. "And what about my other baby? How was he today?" 

The date wasn't lost on Patrice. She noticed when Terry slowly retreated into himself the week before. She saw him looking at Mike's Instagram when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She heard the conversation with his aunt when he promised to come by and see her the next time he could make it to Baton Rouge, even though she knew that time wasn't coming. Every shift in his demeanor and thousand-yard stare showed that he was reliving a hellish time she couldn't protect him from. 

No amount of soothing could pull him out of his rut. But that wouldn't stop her from trying. 

Terry continued to stare down at Nyla as he answered. "I'm okay. Not too up, not too down." 

"You need anything?" Terry didn't respond with words once he finally tore his eyes away from their daughter to look at Patrice. He only shook his head. "Can I give you a hug at least?" 

His first dose of physical affection for the day felt like the wind was gently placed back into his lungs as Patrice pulled him closer by his shoulders. His hands found her waist first, giving the spot a short squeeze before allowing his arms to fully encircle her body. 

"I love you. You know that?" 

"I know." That was the one thing he was sure of. His heart and mind were splintered into a million pieces, but he knew Patrice was there to help him put each one back in their proper place. His lips found her temple for a lingering kiss as he closed his eyes to ward off the sadness, still trying to take center stage. "I, um…I... didn't have a good day today…" Terry struggled with the words, opening and closing his mouth in hopes that something would come out while Patrice listened to him try to articulate his thoughts. A deep breath and closed eyes helped him settle before he spoke. "I could use some time together. Whatever you have tonight, I'll take it. I know you have to be up early tomorrow, so even an hour is –" 

His words were cut short by a simple kiss on his cheek. Patrice pulled back to look at him and flashed a reassuring smile. "Give me a few minutes to get changed, and you have me for however long you need me. I'll stay up late and everything. Dasia will understand if I cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow."

"I don't want you to do that." 

"We'll play it by ear," she answered to douse the early flames of a disagreement. "Twenty minutes. You can time me." 

Terry nodded in understanding and silently agreed to let Patrice out of his sight when he needed her most. Whether she was gone for 30 seconds or three days, the time away felt slow. 

Terry tried and quickly tired of distracting himself in Nyla's nursery before quietly slipping out and taking the trek to wait for Patrice like a lost puppy.

He settled into the plush velvet chair in the corner and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Closed eyes heightened his sense of hearing, giving him full access to Patrice's singing in the shower. 

Mike would've loved the Patrice he heard so much about. He'd call her 'big sis' and annoy her the way little brothers do. They'd argue endlessly but still find time for secret handshakes and inside jokes. He'd finally have someone on his side to pester Terry and receive sound advice from when the going got tough. They may have taken him in as their overgrown first child. They could've worked together to get him on the right path and save his life. 

Unfortunately, Terry would never know. The not knowing left the door wide open for sadness to creep back in. 

He breathed deep and tried to will grief away with Patrice's voice as a lullaby in the background. And for a moment, it complied. The dark, heavy cloud slipped off his back and down to his feet with every exhale, lightening the weight on his arms and shoulders until he felt close to a Terry who was safe, sound, and far from the troubles of his past. 

Mike would want that. He'd like to know what Terry had going on as the last person expected to settle down into a family man. He'd probably poke fun at his older cousin for attending birthing classes and fawning over ruffled outfits in Target when what he knew of Terry was brooding, reserved, and quietly menacing. Mike had seen his cousin kick up dust with the worst of them. Seeing Terry as a man who wouldn't so much as cough too loud if his wife or daughter was around would be a sight. 

As grief slowly packed its things and headed for the door, his comfort emerged from the steaming bathroom, looking like a lighthouse in a raging storm. 

Patrice's humming paused once she noticed Terry sitting in the corner. "Missed me," she teased, drawing a small, dry chuckle from her husband as she made her way to their dresser. "You could've joined if you wanted."

"That's alright. I know you need your time to decompress.” He gestured toward the garment in her hand. “Need help with that?"

She could've put her clothes on with no assistance, but Patrice knew that Terry wouldn't have asked if he didn't need the distraction. She granted his covert request for her attention by quickly plucking matching pieces from her sleepwear drawer and placing them in his outstretched hands. 

They spent time in comfortable silence while he slid soft cotton up her legs and then helped her into her shirt, kissing random spots of exposed skin along the way. "I didn't ask about your day. I'm sorry. I got a lot of…other stuff on my mind. How was work?" 

"It was work. Nothing too important. Glad it's the weekend. Two more days, and I get to see my first graduating class of freshmen that I taught. Isn't that crazy? I'm getting old, huh?" She laughed by herself. 

Terry avoided eye contact despite his faint smile, preferring to tie the drawstring at her waist in a neat bow like she preferred. "Never old. Only better."

"You're too sweet." Patrice cuddled him close when he was done and rubbed a spot at the nape of his neck to soothe him into closing tired, heavy lids. "I know it's tough, but I promise you'll be okay, babe. The sadness isn't gonna go away, but you'll learn to live with it. You'll learn to make space for all those feelings inside you at once. And I'll be here when you need someone else to hold some of them, too." 

Terry sighed. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden for you, P. We have enough going on as is." 

"You're not a burden, Terry; you're my husband – my friend."

To be accepted with all of the muddy waters traversing his mind and heart felt like too much to ask for in Terry's mind, especially from someone who'd spent so much time wading through all his bullshit without complaint. He owed her his life, the full weight of his love, until the day God deemed their time together but a beautiful memory forever etched in boxed trinkets and old photos. 

He wanted to give her the moon as she stood stroking his pain away with her fingertips but settled for kissing his way up her sternum on the way to her lips. 

One day, when other emotions had dwindled, and he was feeling more like himself, Terry would lay his head on Patrice's lap and tell her about the atrocities that had shaped the time before they reacquainted. That day wasn't today, and all he could think of was pouring his gratitude for her graciousness into making sure she was satisfied in the one area he could control. 

Shorts that had only been on her body for mere minutes found a new home on the floor alongside her top. Patrice was weightless in Terry's arms as he carried her to their shared bed, his lips attached to hers for needy kisses that felt more like life rafts to keep him above rough waters than affectionate gestures. 

Patrice questioning if he was sure about his actions fell on deaf ears, and soon, all of her inquiries became lost whispers in a room swirling with the sounds of desperate lovemaking. Terry left his mark on her neck and chest while he worked himself out of his clothes. 

His voice came in gravelly against the shell of her ear. "I fuckin' love you, Treece. Don't ever leave me." He was pleading and caught somewhere between raw desire and tremendous despair. "Please, don't ever leave me." 

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," Patrice reassured without hesitation.

Terry left soft kisses and big, salty tears on Patrice's cheeks once their foreheads met. "Please. I need you, Patrice." Grief was back and taunting him in his ear with its partner in crime, Doubt. She'll leave, just like everyone else. You don't deserve her. Lies filled his head with no shut-off valve in sight. The tears turned into sobs he couldn't ignore with breathing techniques or a change in his thought process. "I'm sorry. I just need you. I can't do this by myself. Don't leave." 

Patrice quickly cast amorous feelings aside to wrap her arms tight around Terry. "Woah, woah, TJ. I'm here! I'm right here." 

Grief was a bitch. Even when he threw his best punch at it, grief always hit Terry back with a haymaker that left him staggering and woozy in defeat. 

The moments after his heaving, hyperventilating meltdown became a blur of Patrice's soft-spoken instruction, lavender bubble bath, and candlelight. When he came back from a mental trip to Shelby Springs to live out alternate realities, where he emerged victorious with Mike by his side, he found himself nestled between his wife's legs, surrounded by fresh hot water and scented white foam. 

Patrice moved behind him, plastic crinkling as she peeled the back off of something he couldn't see before bringing her wet hands around to his face. "These'll help with the puffiness," she declared like an experienced esthetician informing a client. "I used to use this every other day in grad school. Cry all you need. No one will ever know by morning." 

A 'thank you' tried to rise from his throat, but Terry quickly found his voice too hoarse to say anything worth a damn. Patrice didn't mind, though. She was content to press another cold patch underneath his eye before grabbing the shampoo rinse cup resting near the baby monitor at the edge of the tub. 

Terry closed his eyes as the warm water washed over his short curls, sitting neatly behind a sharp hairline and tapered sides. His hair glistened under flickering lights provided by small flames in glass components. Patrice used her acrylic nails to work magic against his scalp, turning shampoo into a mountain of suds to cleanse the pain. 

"I swear every time my Nana and mama scrubbed my head, I felt like a new person after. One time, I was going through the worst friend breakup I've ever had, and by the time Mommy finished with me, I didn't even know that girl's name. Didn't even matter anymore." 

"What happens after the scrub, though? You just…go back to normal?" 

Patrice chuckled as she ran another stream of water across his head to start on a second lather. "Hell no. That's where the patches come in." Terry allowed himself his first genuine laugh all day, taking a stone out of grief's stronghold. His fingertips ran back and forth over the wet skin on Patrice's legs as he sat with his eyes closed in a battle for his sanity. They let the quiet ripple of water around them fill the humid air in the room, preferring to enjoy the feel of skin on skin over extraneous conversation until Patrice began running conditioner through each of his thick strands. "I love when you wear your hair like this. The haircuts are nice, but when it's grown out, it reminds me of young you." 

"Hot-headed, couldn't buckle down enough to work through being mad at not getting scholarships to still go to college me?" Terry scoffed, finding the notion of a younger, far less polished him being someone worth missing. 

Patrice shrugged. "I didn't know that Terry," she confessed. The stories of his anger felt like fables to Patrice. The only Terrence Richmond she'd ever known was sweet as homemade banana pudding after Sunday service and a whip-smart boy with the world at his feet. "My Terry and his little fro was always kind. Always noble and lending a helping hand. And now he's got a baby girl in the other room with a head full of her daddy's curls after she looked like Charles Barkley for three months." Terry smiled at the mention of Nyla and how she'd inherited at least one part of him after taking her mother's entire face. Patrice watched him reach for the monitor and bring it closer to his face for a look at his second favorite girl before she continued. "My Terry is who Mike loved. I never met him, but I know he saw the best in you. We all do, baby." 

More silence sat heavy as Terry wiped away fresh tears gathering at his waterline. Of course, they'd see the best in him when he couldn't see the best in himself. 

Grief came knocking again with Doubt in tow, but Terry ignored them to slide deeper into the water and rest his heavy head on Patrice's chest before speaking. "Mike and me…we used to get in a lot of trouble at my granny's house." 

"Yeah? Two badass kids, huh? Tell me about it."

"One time," he started, already smiling at the memory. "We got her beagle, Satchel, sick because we kept feeding him shrimp out of the gumbo. He threw up all over the back porch, and Mike got so scared that he told on us, thinking we wouldn't get the switch if we were honest." 

"Did y'all?" 

Terry laughed and nodded. "Wore our asses out. I hated that damn dog for the rest of his life. It wasn't his fault, but I was just a kid." 

"You knew better, though." 

"Whose side are you on right now?" Terry asked, looking up at Patrice with faux offense on his face. 

She giggled back. "Okay, my bad!" A final round of water cascaded down Terry's shoulders and back, washing the ugly soot of regret off of his grief to reveal the love making up its inner parts. Patrice kissed his wet hair and held her lips there even as she spoke. "Can you tell me more about Mike? I wanna know him through you."

The invitation erupted a dormant volcano deep within his Terry's heart.

He told stories of his cousin and their time together until the lavender-scented bubbles evaporated into tepid bath water. Until grief felt more like gratitude for memories made. Until Patrice's stomach ached from laughter. Until the clock struck midnight, and tears started to roll again. Until Patrice had wiped his entire face with her delicate fingertips several times over without a single inkling of exasperation or judgement while they lay face to face beneath cold sheets. And until she finally closed her eyes from exhaustion and turned her back for some shut-eye. 

Then, he talked to God. A long list of thank you's emerged from his heart. A thank you for keeping him alive, one for time spent with Mike, one for his daughter, and another for the only person keeping him afloat when all he wanted to do was drown. 

Terry looked at Patrice and smiled. Light from the television illuminated her face, highlighting her knitted brow and slight frown as she lay in the throes of a dream he could only imagine was vivid enough to evoke such a clear expression of disgust. The thought alone produced a genuine smile. 

Clicking the power button, Terry found himself in complete darkness, fighting for the words to finish his prayer. He sighed and looked back toward Heaven. "She's perfect, God. Even when she isn't. If you never give me anything else, thank you for Patrice."

"Hm?"

Patrice's groggy response to her name being called made Terry roll over on his side to calm her back into sleep. "Nothing, baby," he spoke into her shoulder before pressing a kiss on her skin. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, earning a content sigh. "I was just praying for you."

She smiled without opening her eyes. "Well, amen to that."

Tears tickled Terry's waterline, this time filled with overwhelming gratitude. A blessing like no other. 

"Yeah. Amen to that."

-----

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[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 4

Mama MacTavish has arrived! Find part 1 here.

CW: None, this chaper.

Waiting for Nyla MacTavish turned into one of the longest bouts of anxiety you had ever experienced. Regret was not quite the word you would use for offering to pick her up from the airport, but it was close. Cousin levels of close, if not siblings.

It had taken her a week to arrange her life enough in Scotland to leave it behind for a time. Neither of you knew how long that would be but you happily offered to pay the outrageous amount to fly her here and home. She had been so kind when you could finally wrangle her into a phone call.

She had handled the news of an unexpected grandson with great aplomb. The offer to fly her out and host her in your home so she could meet the boys had taken flustered her though. You exchanged phone numbers and coordinated her flights and pickup time from the airport. Any cake decorating order you had for today had been prepped as far as it could before you left for the airport.

John, who stayed in the spare room next to yours, had walked out the door as you did.

“Heading to talk to Johnny and Simon. I’ll probably spend the rest of the day with them.” He studies your concerned face, hands wringing your keys between your fingers. “I will text when I will be back so you know whether to lock the door or not.”

“Thanks, John. And thank you again for coming so fast.” A lump forms in your throat as you think of how you would have handled this situation without him.

They deserved answers, were owed them. That didn’t mean you could face them alone.

John had shown up less than two days after you called and offered him a spare room to come and play negotiator between you and his former men. Seeing him again unlocked all the thoughts you had pushed away all those years ago, thoughts about him, Gaz, Roach, Simon, Johnny.

God. Those would be thoughts to discuss in therapy. You would also need to discuss the flutter of attraction that scared the shit out of you when John smiled at you from beyond your front door.

The boys, Jace and Mac, were at school and would be for a while yet. Fighting your way into the airport you cursed the signage that led you to make the loop three times until you could pull into the correct lane for parking. Having never parked at the airport before you were focused on finding the right gate and parking somewhere you would remember.

You managed to get twenty steps away from your car when you remembered you could take a photo of the number/letter combo near your car as to avoid getting lost. Huffing a sigh you turn and trudge back, snapping the photo you need before hurrying off into the liminal hell that all airports were.

You and Nyla had decided to fly her in through New York, giving her a chance to deboard and stretch her legs after the hours-long flight. The shorter flights were easier to schedule though she did have to change airlines once. Every time you saw her plane land you fired off a text asking how it was and if she had found her next gate.

Not a big texter, Johnny’s mom. She replied with one-word answers.

Johnny loved to chat, it surprised you a bit that he must have gotten that trait from his father.

There is no designated waiting space to sit near the luggage claim. You know the idea is ‘get your shit and get out’ but this is the only place to wait for someone arriving and frankly it would feel considerate to offer some seating options. You were spiraling. You knew it but seating arrangements, or lack thereof, in a high-traffic place like the airport seemed a more tackle-able issue than the Tarturus-sized pit in your center.

A new stream of people started to trickle in from beyond the TSA access point. Nyla’s plane had landed nearly thirty minutes ago. When you finally spot her the acid in your stomach jumps. Swallowing back the attempted jailbreak you wave. She is shorter than you expected. Johnny didn’t have too much height on you but Nyla stood eye to eye with you.

She wore the age of her years well. Nyla hugged you with a warmth you craved in any motherly figure. Fighting off tears you hug her back.

“Thank you for calling me lass. Now let’s get home and meet those bairns.” She pulled back from the hug, hands still holding your back.

Johnny got his blue eyes from her. The color brightened by the tears rimming her lashes caught you. She steps back to look for her luggage, you trail behind.

“They are at school for a few more hours but let’s get you settled. They know that a grandma they haven’t met yet is coming. John Price has already arrived.”

The look she sends over your shoulder tells you nothing of her thoughts but has you tucking your lips between your teeth.

“You’re expecting a fight from my boys?” She lifts a large suitcase from the carousel.

Rushing forward you offer to take it from her. Nyla holds you back with a stare that would put any grandmother in the area to shame. She lifts an arm to indicate you should lead the way. Working your way back to the parking structure you answer her question.

“I don’t know what to expect from them.” You shrug and fold your arms across your chest, “John said he had talked to them and they are willing to wait to talk about the whole situation until you arrive.”

“Ah, I am to keep my John in line,” she nods sagely.

You trip over nothing. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. Johnny was more of a hothead, and having his mom here would prevent him from getting too in the weeds of his emotions, at least in your house.

Nyla waits as you right yourself and continue to walk. She offers you a smile brimming with kindness as you glance at her.

The air changes as you step into the parking structure, crisper and coated in gasoline.

“Would you like to know about them? My boys?”

At her nod, you start your nervous babbling. You boys were your proudest achievement.

“They know about you, that you are coming and you are their grandmother. They know that my late husband, Larsen is their dad, but that he didn’t help create them.”

You catch the confusion that flashes across her face as you turn to look at a pillar not seeing the color or number/letter combo you need.

“Larsen and I were clear even from the beginning that the boys are ours but they needed to know and have room for meeting their biological fathers if that ever arose.”

“Ah, wise of you. Most would lie and deny the boys the room for anyone more.”

Seeing the right combo your chest and butt hole relax. Yours and Nyla’s footsteps echo out under the cars filling the vast space.

“I know, but I got lied to a lot as a kid and it ruined a lot of good opportunities for me. Larsen knew that and agreed that they wouldn’t think it was odd until they were old enough for someone to point it out and by then they could ask questions and get answers.” Stopping at the back of your car you pop the trunk. “This is me.”

Once the luggage and the people are settled you start the drive home, tales about the boys from infancy to yesterday fill the car with laughter and a growing shared love. You knew Nyla would love and claim both boys despite only being blood to one. She already felt like good people to you.

The boys took to her as if she had always been around. They fluttered around showing off their lego sets and their homework and their room. They shared the largest room in the house. You and Larsen had set that up when they were born along with a cot to split the care of them in the night. While Nyla settled spectacularly into the role of grandmother, Nan as she asked to be called, you missed Larsen with a fierceness that shocked you.

A text from John pulled you from missing your best friend. He would be home after the boys went to bed. John had also been surprisingly good with the boys, taking to their constant chatter and insistence to play with a smile.

Firing off a text of thanks you settle back into the chaos unfolding before you. Mac had taken one look at Nan Nyla and the gift of legos she brought and handed her a bag and an instruction book to help him and Jace build the Jurrasic Park set.

Part 5

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut 

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck. 

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink. 

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. 

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset. 

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another. 

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite. 

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.” 

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye. 

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants. 

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me. 

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom. 

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles. 

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?” 

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath. 

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run. 

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did. 

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal. 

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

[stargazerdaisy]

Losing Jackson might have been the worst thing for Lucy's character development.

Obviously, your best friend dying is a massive personal loss and affected Lucy as a person incredibly deeply. But storytelling wise, losing Jackson and his place in Lucy's life has done the character of Lucy a disservice. (I am fully aware that the actor wanted to leave the show, which left the writers with only a few options. I am not criticizing the choice to kill him off, just analyzing the fallout of it on Lucy.)

Jackson and Lucy were incredibly close friends and roommates, plus work colleagues. They were together all the time and they knew each other so deeply. They were ride-or-die supportive, but also willing to share hard things when needed.

Lucy doesn't have that anymore.

Her biggest support is Tim; he is her best friend. Rachel is a non-entity, both on screen and in the background story. Nyla and Angela are so obsessed with each other and busy with their families, that they haven't gotten close with Lucy specifically. Bailey is all about Nolan and Nolan hasn't been super tight with Lucy in years. Aaron and Lucy were getting closer, but never quite got there before he left. Celina and Lucy have the potential to get there, but they aren't now, and it will take some time to narrow/overcome the differential between them. And Lucy does not see Tamara as an equal, as someone she can lay her burdens on. That basically leaves only Tim.

While people are supportive of her and care about her, that's not the same as being there intimately and being secure enough to call her on her BS. Tim can and has done that. He called her out about not loving Chris, about her feelings for him, and so on. And he was always the first person she went to, and almost always was there for her. That just adds to the immense grief and loss she felt when they broke up.

But that means there is no one who can do that for her now.

Her story has been so wrapped up with Tim, that there was never room for anyone to fill that void left by Jackson. She doesn't have someone who can look at what's going on under her words and public image and then talk to her about it. I think there are a few people who see that she's putting on a braver face than she truly feels, but they either are too busy or don't feel like they can say anything to her. And Tim certainly can't push her on all of this, since 1) he's the reason for all of her hurt and 2) is trying to win her over without imposing his will over hers. Like, that's the specific issue that caused so much conflict! So he really, really cannot do it.

Lucy is incredibly smart and wise and understands feelings and behavior so well, her own included. She can explain and analyze everything. But she uses that to cover up her own actual feelings. Case in point, in Now and Then (2x12), right after being buried and rescued, she comes back to work. Everyone is checking in on her, and she's rebuffing them, telling them she's fine, she went through all the mandated therapy, she's processed, and on and on. She uses all the right terminology and plasters on a bright smile. And then she freaks out at the speed dating event with Angela and Nyla. She could say all the right words and she truly did understand them, but she still had the feelings!!!

She intellectualizes her feelings, rather than feeling them, a lot of the time. Some of my favorite moments of Lucy, when she felt most authentic and most honest, were when she was losing her temper and yelling. Her getting fierce and barking at Tim in Impact (2x01), that he can rake her over the coals but don't pretend he's doing it because he has a code. Her losing her shit and yelling, so angrily, at Tim in Secrets and Lies (6x06) about Ray and the leaving her out. And a few others. These are AMAZING moments for her when she stops analyzing her feelings and what other people's perceptions are, and just acts on her emotions and lets them really show.

And now, I really think she needs someone to get her to confront her own feelings. Jackson would have done that, especially after everything that happened with Tim (all of it, ups and downs). There are people that have the knowledge and history to do that (Angela would be great, Genny would be a fabulous choice, even Harper would get right to the heart of it), but they aren't with her enough to actually push. She will try to deflect and deny, and she needs someone who will stare her down and gently, but firmly, poke at the wound until she opens it back up and finally addresses healing it properly. But since the story hasn't put anyone into that position, Lucy is stuck without meaningful support.

[rebelcaptain4life]

This episode felt straight out of a fanfic /pos

BOTH OF THEM THINKING OF THAT NIGHT

Not Tim telling Nolan to pick out a fight on the job to blow off steam 🤦🏻‍♀️ sir I thought you'd learned your lesson about doing that in s1

Ever since I heard Tim was going to therapy this episode, I was imagining him saying he accidentally slept with Lucy and his group being like "nooo dude". And it's basically canon??? He talks about her enough that the whole group knows about her???? And finally Tim was told to STOP 👏 TAKING 👏 AWAY 👏 LUCY'S 👏 AGENCY

I literally read a fic today where Seth went UC with Tamara at a college party to get drugs. He fcked up and it got Lucy and Tamara injured which led to Tim cursing out and firing Seth. I know Seth's not fired (yet) but Tim basically said he'd get rid of him if he put Lucy in danger 😍

Also Tim being Lucy's immediate pick for back-up and him immediately saying he'll get someone to switch with him to go help instead of sending the people to her 🥰

I'm so happy we got Tamara back!!! And she canonically still has a key to the apt 🥰🥰🥰

How did Nolan not get into more trouble for leaving the shop with both doors open and unlocked?

Angela knowing Tim is lonely and depressed. I love Angela&Tim bestieism

Very sweet applause for Celina! Much more pomp and ceremony for her than for any of the previous Rookies but I give that to Nolan for actually giving praise

Idk how I felt about the "female cops drooling over the hot criminal" gag. Once with each of Celina, Lopez, and Harper would've been enough. But it was just waaay overdone esp with having all the female cops (+ 1 guy) coming to check him out... Esp in an episode with another plot about giving your partners agency and about dv...

I love Miles 😭😭😭

Tamara x Seth uhhhh??? But also Chenford being Tamara's parents 🥹🥹🥹 "do you want me to put the fear of Bradford into him?" Jsjsjsjsjsjsj

So uhhh Seth actually has cancer 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

Still annoyed at Bailey blaming Nolan for like not talking to her when she literally left the house for a WEEK???? Glad she got there in the end but bffr girl. Also is this the end of the malvado story??? Is John gonna let the plot to murder go???

So glad Nyla and James worked it out, too. And hopefully we'll get to see some of the work of her group!

Wopez being the only couple not having problems 😭

So basically every couple is more or less back to normal except Chenford!!!

[violasghost]

Adding to the discussion about why the Chenford breakup has apparently been swept under the rug (for now), Rookie episode 7x02 discussion.

Have been reading some thoughts recently about how some think the reason Tim and Lucy are so amicable post breakup is because they are over one another, or the writers have decided to gloss over everything and ignore their chemistry and just let them stay friends instead, or simply cheapen their relationship. But I think this is where we as the fans have to pay closer attention to the actors who are showing us just as much if not more in the moments when they are not saying anything to one another, versus the moments when there is dialogue. The banter, the competition, that is where they are comfortable, but its also when they fall back in to old habits. Despite Lucy's character being pro-therapy, neither she nor Tim have ever been good at expressing their own emotions and when they were together they stumbled through most serious conversations about feelings. So that said, they likely didn't have that talk-yet.

From a personal perspective, I've had some awful coworkers over time (one or two that started out as friends) who I would have loved to poof away into oblivion, but because I like my job, I had to take the high road simply to be able to do my work well and play nice with peers, and the fact that sometimes you have to coexist with people that you don't always like or respect. So you do your job and work with those individuals when necessary, but nothing more. Not that I'm saying they cant stand one another, but more that they are simply...coping.

I think when it gets down to it, they are avoiding the BIG elephant in the room because its easier to just go with the flow for now. And they are afraid of going down that road because perhaps there may be some doubt, on Lucy's side about Tim's motivations for the breakup in the first place. And maybe on Tim's side about realizing how he hurt Lucy and worrying about how she might never forgive him. So the friendship thing is a safe crutch for both of them. They know at least this way they still have each other as a safety net. I still think its coming. The longing looks, the playful banter. Tim is trying every trick in his book to stay close to Lucy, and Lucy is taking his bait, hook, line, and sinker. And she's flirting with him too, whether she knows it or not. They just cant help themselves. Anyone who couldn't see it would likely have to be blind. Heck the whole first few minutes of the episode with the ladies in the locker room, Lopez, Harper, and Juarez tease Lucy about it so-yeah they know, and they are teasing/baiting our dear Lucy and the audience with this knowledge.

That last scene with the three TO's, Nolan, Tim, and Lucy hanging out after work for drinks and then Nolan confesses how he really respects Nyla and wants to send her more gifts of thanks and Lucy simply tosses her eyes and glances at Tim for a moment. You can see a twinkle in both their eyes and even Nolan recognizes in this moment that he's the third wheel, so he excuses himself, but Tim and Lucy don't yet want to admit that there is anything more, even though there is a long pause between them before either one speaks. I'm telling you, its about the moments 'in between.' Watch Eric and Melissa's faces. They always knock it out of the park.

Needless to say, looking forward to the long slow burn this season. I'm hoping for many more angsty, flirty, cute, hot, steamy, action-packed, sexy, and loving Chenford scenes in our future. <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

Second First Mother's Day

Requested Here!

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

Summary: Angela and Nyla take you out for a late Mother's Day gift, and Tim is left alone while your friends care for your babies.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, flirty!Tim, 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

If Tim has to hear one more comment about how long this week has been, he might cut it short himself. He’s been working nonstop for nearly three weeks, leaving you to care for your twins. He misses you, he thinks as he enters the bullpen. It doesn’t take him long to find Lucy after that.

“I can’t believe I won,” she gushes to Angela and Nolan. “I entered because- I mean, of course I did. Now I get free food forever? I don’t think anything will ever top this!”

“Wesley took me to their grand opening,” Angela says. “It’s really good food, and the chef is incredibly nice.”

“Who are you taking first?” Nolan inquires. “You said you could take people with you. Maybe someone who came into this job with you as a rookie?”

“Smooth, Nolan,” Nyla interjects from her desk.

“I’m actually taking my best friend,” Lucy murmurs. “But I’ll take you soon, I promise!”

“You’re taking Mrs. Bradford?” Angela clarifies, smiling. “Does Tim know?”

“I mean, does he need to? It’s my gift - a combination birthday present and belated Mother’s Day experience,” Lucy explains.

Around the corner, Tim rolls his eyes. He fails to convince even himself that he isn’t upset. His friends can find time to be with you and enjoy your company, but your own husband can’t. Someone calls his name, and he abandons his eavesdropping position to assist another officer with a rowdy suspect.

“When are you taking her?” Nyla demands, standing. “Because Angela and I called dibs on her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Friday? Wait, if you’re taking her somewhere tomorrow and Tim is working, who’s watching the boys?”

“Well, we were going to ask you about that,” Angela says. “Aaron already agreed.”

“Why are you taking her out?” Nolan wonders.

“It’s a late Mother’s Day gift. It’s much more enjoyable to celebrate after Mother’s Day because the weather is usually better, and the crowds aren’t as atrocious. Plus, you can pass off the kids if it isn’t actually the day you’re supposed to spend with them.”

“That’s… that’s genius,” Nolan mumbles.

“I’ll talk to Aaron,” Lucy assures Angela. “We’ll be there.”

You’re enjoying a quiet day with your twins when the doorbell rings. With your brows drawn together, you approach the front door and look through the peephole. Lucy and Aaron are standing outside, each holding bags and whispering. You hold Ryan against your chest as you unlock and open the door, smiling as you invite your babies’ godparents inside.

“Hi,” you greet softly. “Did I forget something?”

“Nope,” Aaron answers, dropping his bags so he can pick your other son up. “Hi, little buddy,” he murmurs.

“We’re here to babysit,” Lucy tells you.

“Oh, I don’t need a babysitter today,” you begin.

“Yes, you do,” Nyla interrupts, entering the still-open door.

“Get ready,” Angela adds from behind her. “We’re taking you out.”

Lucy glances at her smartwatch, then asks, “Is it okay if Brody comes over?”

“Of course,” you say over your shoulder, watching Angela and Nyla. Their smiles are too similar to Tim’s before he does something that pushes you past your comfort zone.

“We’re going to the fair,” Angela says, grabbing your shoulders to steer you to your bedroom while Lucy takes Ryan from your arms.

“Five Minutes,” Nyla barks. Aaron’s eyes widen as he shrugs, and she gestures to the baby in his arms. “My turn.”

“He’s literally named after me, Harper. Why can’t you hold Ryan?” Aaron argues.

“Because…” She takes the baby, smiling smugly when he giggles and smiles up at her. “Because Thor here knows that I’m closer to an Avenger than any of you could ever dream of being.”

“Wrong Thor,” Lucy points out. When Nyla turns to glare at her, she rescinds, “Maybe it is, how would I know?”

“We’re ready!” Angela announces when you return.

You say bye to your boys, then thank Aaron and Lucy for watching them. As you embark on a day out with two fellow mothers and women who have become your best friends and greatest supporters, you get excited to live like a kid again, even if it’s just for a day.

Tim pulls his phone out of his pocket while he’s on break. The empty break room seems to laugh at him; the soft hum of the air conditioner and intermittent whirring of the vending machines amplify the silence.

Tim types a message to check on you and the boys. You usually reply within two minutes, but five long minutes pass in the discomfort of the station with no response. Tim shoves his phone into his pocket as he stands, able to feel his grumpy attitude worsening. As he exits the break room, however, he slides to a stop and forgets about the message.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Aaron and Lucy turn quickly, smiling as they approach him with his sons tucked safely in their converted car seat carriers. Lucy’s boyfriend – who Tim doesn’t bother to greet – lingers behind them with his military K9, Parker.

“Where’s my wife?” Tim demands.

“Out with Harper and Lopez,” Aaron answers. “They’re treating her to a day off for Mother’s Day, just a little late.”

Tim’s jaw clenches before he nods. You deserve it, but he would have liked to have been in the loop about it. Maybe he could have taken the day off and been home with your sons to greet you when you returned.

“Alright,” Tim grumbles, “I’ll take them.”

He reaches for Thor’s carrier, but Aaron steps back and shakes his head.

“Thorsen,” Tim warns.

“We took a vow, Tim,” Lucy explains, moving closer to Brody as if he can protect her – or would want to get between her and Tim. “They’re out responsibility today, and we will protect them with our lives.”

“Right,” Aaron agrees. “Thor is safe.”

“Bradford!” Wade calls, stepping out of his office. He smiles at the sight of Ryan and Thor, then asks, “Do you need a minute?”

“Apparently not,” Tim snaps, directed more at Aaron and Lucy. “What do you need, sir?”

“He makes my drill sergeant seem like a nun,” Brody whispers, reaching down to pet Parker.

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies.

Nyla makes a wrong turn on the way back to your house, but you don’t say anything. You have an unread message from Tim, but it was so long ago that you assume he’s figured out that you’re safe.

“Last stop,” Angela says when Nyla enters a parking lot.

Lucy waves at you, standing beside the patio entrance of a new restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. You notice that she doesn’t have either of your sons with her and assume they’re both with Aaron. He has your trust and respect, so the idea doesn’t bother you. Brody and Parker are at the table, and he stands to greet you, wishing you a happy belated Mother’s Day and slipping you an envelope with ‘Happy Birthday – Brody and Parker (and Lucy)’ written across it.

“You guys have done too much,” you say as you sit between Nyla and Lucy. “Let me pay for this.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the good news!” Lucy begins, launching into an explanation of how she won a raffle for free food for life. Friends and family included.

“… so, when he scales the wall, the CO is like, ‘what did you give that dog?’” Brody says, continuing the story he started in the car. “My buddy Jake just goes rigid and yells, ‘That’s why his name is Parker, sir. He’s named for the legendary Peter Parker, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’”

You laugh at his impression of his friend as Lucy uses her key to open your front door. You’re sure Tim has regretted the decision to share it with her a few times – and not just because he’s threatened to change the locks. As you enter with your friends, you see Tim sitting on the couch, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he looks at Aaron. Nyla, Angela, and Brody walk straight to the small playpen set up by the window to play with your babies.

Tim’s mopey look disappears for a second when Parker jumps onto the couch and plops his head on Tim’s lap, wagging his tail when Kojo joins him on the other side.

“Hi,” you say, walking toward him. “Are you okay?”

“Did you have a good time?” he inquires, letting his arms fall before he reaches for your hand.

“I did.”

Tim nods slowly, then interlaces his fingers with yours. “Then I’m good. But if those people don’t get out of our house right now, I will change the locks.”

“Let’s go, Parker!” Lucy calls, standing quickly and waving over her shoulder.

“Thank you!” you tell them, waving as Tim stands beside you.

“Sir,” Brody murmurs, nodding as he clips Parker’s leash to his harness.

“They were just being nice,” you point out as the door closes.

Tim lifts his hands to cup your cheeks, looking between your eyes as he sighs. “Love of my life,” he begins, his voice low.

You drop your eyes, but he’s holding you, so you can’t get away from him. Drawing your shoulders up, you try to keep yourself from melting into his hands and giving him something he can use against you.

“They didn’t tell me,” Tim adds. “But, as long as you had a good day, maybe it’s okay.”

“Wasn’t as special as the first mother’s day with you,” you whisper.

“And it never will be.”

Tim kisses you before you can reply, and your boys coo together like they’re cheering for you.

[augustvandyne]

i’m coming up with this on my own because i’m bored and also i love angela so much like ugh so here’s this small little thing!!

anyway here’s the summary.

you’re a training officer and done for the night, but detective angela lopez definitely is not. she sees you passing out at the desk across from her and has you get up to lay on her.

falling asleep

You loved your wife but she definitely had a working problem.

As in, you could have been done for hours, and she still wouldn’t be home. She’d be sitting in that office chair.

Normally you’d go home, but tonight was date night and you didn’t want to leave her.

You didn’t get to actually go on your date, but you were okay with this being your date. You’d went and got Chinese food, and the two of you ate and tried solving the case.

Angela was talking herself through it, and you were laying you head on Nyla’s desk, which was where you were sitting.

Her voice was putting you to sleep.

You were drooling onto the desk, at this point.

Angela looks up at you just as you are put into a light sleep.

“Baby,” Angela tilts her head, but receives no response from you. “Baby.”

You groan.

“I’m sorry,” Angela flattens her lips as she comes up with an idea. “How about you come here.”

“I’m comfy,” You say, but it’s muffled by the table.

“I’m offering a more comfy position,” Angela smirks as you launch your head up off the table.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” She nods, giving you a wide smile. “It’s the least I can do after ruining our date night.”

You smile back, looking at her with all the love in your eyes.

“Are you gonna keep looking at me like that, or are you gonna come get comfortable?” Angela leans back in her chair, watching as you all but trip out of the chair in a hurry to her lap.

“Eager?” Angela says right before you smack into her, all but jumping into her lap. “Oof.”

Your head finds the crook of her neck, and you nod your head a bit to get comfortable. Her scent puts you in a sleepy state yet again.

You’re straddling her on the chair. It pinches your thighs, but you don’t care, because you’re in Angela’s arms. The woman whom you love the most.

Using her feet, she moves herself closer to the desk. Using one hand, she picks the case files back up, while using the other to caress your back softly, which she knew put you right to sleep.

You aren’t quite asleep, which Angela likes, because she wants to talk to you for a few minutes.

“You’re adorable,” Angela places a kiss on your temple.

“You know, when you were my T.O., I never would’ve thought of those words coming out of your mouth,” She feels you grin against her skin.

“I never would have let you, baby,” She says, and you lift your head so you can see her face. “What? I was too sarcastic for your liking.”

“You kind of scared me,” You sleepily laugh.

“Oh? Did I, now?” Angela drops the papers, poking your sides in an assaulting manner.

“Yes,” You wiggle on her lap, laughing. “But not anymore.”

“I sure hope I don’t,” Angela leans back in the chair, her hands resting on your hips.

“You don’t,” You put your arms around Angela and give her a kiss on the lips before laying your head back down.

She continues talking herself through the case, and soon enough, she feels (and hears) you fall asleep in her arms.

Angela places soft kisses on your hair while she works until it’s time to go, at which she wakes you up just to see your sleep face.

[sooz-again]

June x Azula (that is a rare pair right?)

I think this is an idea I've tossed around with @krastbannert before, so I'm going to just pull from that (because I half remember it).

Post canon, Azula goes missing. Maybe she has escaped (from prison, from being institutionalized, whatever), maybe she just dips out in the middle of the night(I'm a big fan of the second option, to be honest; I'm a big sucker for Azula becoming one of the people working with Zuko post war, making decisions for their country, offering advice, etc. She has such a logical mind and can make the necessary and sometimes difficult decisions, and can sniff out a problem from a mile away. If she and Zuko end up on good terms, Zuko would be a fool not to have her work alongside him.

Anway, Azula dips one night. Just flat out disappears, leaving only a note that says she has not been kidnapped, and not to look for her. So of course Zuko would look for her. Figuratively, at least; he can't exactly go after her alone, he's got a country to run. He sends guards to look for her, sends mercenaries, trackers, all come up with nothing. So he calls on June for help, offers her a ton of gold pieces for her to find Azula and bring her home.

She finds Azula, obviously. Not sure if it's some very rural area of the Fire Nation, or if Azula went off to the Earth Kingdom, but Azula isn't somewhere fancy or luxurious. Maybe staying at a run down inn, maybe she's staying with a farmer; either way, it's a far cry from the palace. And Azula isn't dressed as a royal either, but in clothes appropriate to blend in wherever she has gone.

It becomes very apparent very quickly that Azula wasn't kidnapped or being held hostage, and in talking to her (because once it's clear there's no danger or immediate threat of a fight or Azula being carted off, there's no reason not to start by simply talking with her), June learns that Azula left of her own volition. That she decided she didn't want that life anymore and wanted to try living any other way.

That's fine and good, but June isn't getting paid to tell the Fire Lord that his little sister doesn't want to come home. She's going to take Azula back to the palace and get her money, and the two Fire Nation royals can figure out their family issues themselves once she's gotten her big fat payday. Unfortunately, Azula doesn't quite feel the same way, and attempts to give June the slip.

It's one of the better chases June has been on, she'll give Azula that, as soon as Nyla paralyzes her, it's over, and they can make their way back to the Fire Nation palace. It's a several day trip, what with needing a ferry (or two or three) from island to island, and they don't have much to do but talk. Not that the talks start out conversational; there's at first threats from Azula, but that's to be expected. Then mild talk about meals and the discomfort of ropes at her wrists and ankles. And then, on the second day, there's comments on the weather, and demands to be untied. It's funny though, the way Azula asks (demands) to be allowed to walk or ride the shirshu on her own; when she says she isn't going to run, that knowing it would only result in being paralyzed again is enough to deter her, June is strangely inclined to believe her. Still, not one to take an unnecessary risk, she prods at that, asking Azula why that is.

Azula reveals that she'd been temporarily paralyzed once before, at the hands of a former friend, and never wants to experience that again. She can't imagine anything more terrible to experience than that.

It's possibly a lie. But Nyla will also get her faster than Azula can run, so June unbinds Azula's feet.

They continue traveling. Talks become more conversational; Azula asks about June's life as a tracker, actually appearing moderately interested in it. June doesn't dive too deep, doesn't get into anything personal, only that it's a job and it pays well, and she's good at what she does.

Azula seems to appreciate that, though.

Eventually, June asks why she left the palace, and the way that she had; suddenly and sneakily. Azula struggles to respond at first, and it doesn't seem like she's avoiding the question, but instead trying to find the right words, and her response ends up being surprisingly vulnerable.

She explains that, her whole life, she has lived to be of use to whoever was Fire Lord. She has always been the right hand man, so to speak, and she has the talents for it; she knows that she is good at what she does. She's always been good at being given a challenge and finding a solution for it. But there's not ever been a time to consider if this is what she wants.

She recalls an old friend, who had once disappeared in the middle of the night to run off and join a circus. June laughs and asks if that's what she really wants to do, join a circus? And Azula explains that no, not at all, but she's always envied the former friend for doing it at all. That she had the guts to run from her life and start completely new to figure out what it is she wanted. Azula wanted the chance to do the same.

Her answer sticks with June in an odd way.

-

Maybe, for the first time in June's life, June ends up unsure if she wants to fulfill a deal. Maybe she decides to continue on and turn Azula in and gets her coin. Maybe Azula runs away again and June has to go after her again, and they end up constantly seeing each other this way. Or maybe she decides not to bring Azula back to Zuko. Azula had seemed curious about her lifestyle, why not let her get a taste of it for a while?

There's a lot of fun possibility to play with here. I'm a fan of June/Azula.

[ingenuitique]

this was probably the rookie’s strongest episode of the season (i don’t remember if there were others but I genuinely enjoyed it sm today). they handle multiple cop plotlines so well it truly felt like before (idk before what but i also sort of do know the exact issue they have). positives first - i loved lucy and celina’s plot, it was fun to see them just be badass, saving the day (lucy especially THAT’S MY GIRL crashing through windows fr). i am really glad they put Tim back in the TO roles because he might be good as a sergeant but he really shines with his interpersonal dynamics and I love seeing Tim and Miles (they’ve managed to nail another TO-Rookie dynamic which is basically my favourite thing about the show anyway). even the last few episodes where they show what a great teacher Tim is, because he understands his rookies and what they need.

The Tim-Angela scene was cute too, Tim being one of the girls is always fun to see reiterated.

I also liked seeing Miles take on something like this. He really loves his job so it’s nice to see him have individual storylines too. I don’t know where they’d eventually go with this whole Nyla cop reform storyline but it’s an important conversation so I’m happy to see it.

I honestly don’t mind that Tim and Lucy are not “together” because they basically… are? They’re not looking to date other people, they are just sort of both waiting for things to fall into place career wise (and Lucy needs time to trust him again which is completely understandable so like this is a great place for chenford to be in idk)

Also them winning the game ahah Tim as captain was a guaranteed win that man cares about the game too much.

Andd a random prediction I have (also sort of wish) that whoever sent that guy to Tim’s house is how Tim ends up with a near death experience this season… like gimme it. Come on.

Now the negatives:

First of all they REALLY need to give wopez a storyline this season because literally everyone else is doing something and they had that random cop-has-a-crush-on-angela story that ended up being nothing anyway and then nothing!! give me something! I miss them, I wanna see them!

i am glad lucy addressed the true crime thing but i also sort of found it uncomfortable cause lucy was, quite literally, a victim of a serial killer too… she just lived through it and idk maybe they’ve just forgotten it? And i don’t understand the point of removing lucy from the final scene too… everyone was there they actively made it a point to not have her there is there some eventual plot there or what

the first scene of Bailey trash talking Nolan was so?? Like it was objectively bad acting there was no emotion in the way she was saying stuff idk i was so confused.

The Amazon Prime plugin reminded me of 9-1-1 instantly and was literally the only thing I liked about the scene oops?

Also… I HATE that they got zero consequences for aiding a hitman for Jason? Like uh… their relationship constraint barely existed, there was no moral ambiguity. I was expecting at least SOME plot about Nolan being confused in a crucial moment of whether he should let Malvado go… i was totally convinced it will happen, Malvado will slip from his hands and Nolan will have some moral crisis if he was genuinely outsmarted or if he let him go to save Bailey like at least that would make it more interesting? Why is there no actual threat? Why is it that conveniently Angela is the one who killed him so there’s no reason for Nolan to even be in the picture? There was so much scope and they did nothing with it just throwaway line about him maybe threatening them?? Show don’t tell? Idk what I’m saying but it was so anti climactic. Even Nolan being the one who shoots him and questioning if he did it because the situation called for it or because he wanted to “get rid of the evidence”.