#rookie wrote
Text
Don't Mind Me
Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI
Warnings: smut, established relationship, masturbation (male), teasing, cockwarming, riding, voice kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, POV reader
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: You're settling in for bed, but Kakashi isn't quite ready to sleep.
AO3 Link
Anyone who knew Kakashi Hatake knew that there were only a few things he was likely to be doing at any given time. Training was high on the list, as well as going out on missions or indulging Gai in yet another competition; all activities designed to keep his body fit and his skills sharp. But when he allowed himself some true restful downtime, he had one favorite pastime: reading Icha Icha.
Kakashi was infamously known to kick back with his book in any number of locations. He could be spotted in even the most public of places—surrounded by superiors or students alike—with one of his ever-present paperbacks tipped in such a way that no nosy onlookers could peer over his shoulder.
As if the entire village couldn't tell the content of those pages from the book's cover, the author's reputation, or the Copy Ninja's giggles.
And as often as he could be seen reading in public, Kakashi spent just as much time reading in the comfort of his own home. Reading before bed was an old habit of his, since he'd first turned to books as a potential distraction from the nightmare fodder constantly rattling around in his head. Over time, Kakashi found the near-perfect antidote to his nightmares in the romantic exploits of the Icha lcha series, buying copy after copy to ensure he would never go without.
More recently, he'd stumbled upon the good fortune to find you, and the romance that blossomed between the two of you was something that Icha Icha just couldn't match.
He still liked to flip through the book before falling asleep, but you suspected it was more out of routine than necessity. These days, the best way Kakashi knew to fall asleep was to get tangled up in bed with you, and it was a sentiment you wholeheartedly shared.
As he read, you nuzzled yourself into the perfect position against him. You loved the feeling of his arm around your waist, his solid form under your fingertips, his cheek resting on the top of your head. He would breathe so gently, you barely felt his chest rise and fall. Every minute or two, you would hear Kakashi turn a page; the sweetest domestic white noise lulling you to sleep.
Just as you had nearly drifted off, something disturbed you just enough to snap you back to consciousness. Maybe it was some tiny twitch of Kakashi's muscle, or a slight change in temperature in the room, or maybe one of your synapses just tripped over its own feet. But whatever the cause, your eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the low light of Kakashi's reading lamp.
As your vision focused, you first spotted the gently illuminated pages of the book Kakashi held in his left hand, his wrist still propped on your hip. The writing on the pages was distorted in your blurry vision. You couldn't discern what was happening on the page, but the number printed neatly at the bottom let you know he'd gotten through about thirty pages since you'd snuggled in with a kiss on his cheek and a whispered 'goodnight.’
Then your focus shifted as movement a little further back caught your eye.
Looking past the book, you were treated to the sight of Kakashi's free hand working over his exposed cock, his fingers wrapped around the shaft and stroking over the length at a languid pace. He was in a state just shy of fully erect, the skin gliding up to roll over the ridge of his cockhead with every upward motion. The tip was slightly darkened, with a generous drop of opaline precum welling at the slit.
It didn't take even one second for your entire body to react; your eyes widening, your cheeks flushing, your mouth watering. And that's to say nothing of the reaction between your legs.
Your body was excitedly awake, but your brain seemed to be lagging behind.
"What’a’ya doin’?" you heard yourself ask, the words blending together in a poor attempt at shaking off the dregs of sleep.
It was a stupid question—there really wasn't any way to misinterpret what you were seeing—but still, the words tumbled off your traitorous tongue without any command.
"Hm?" He turned his head just enough to fix his charcoal eye on you. A rosy blush colored his cheeks, but you weren't sure if it was there before or after you'd caught him.
"I'm sorry," he continued, crinkling his eye into a smile. "I thought you were asleep."
You couldn't think of any way to respond. The entire situation was nothing short of ridiculous. In the scant time since you'd closed your eyes to go to sleep, Kakashi had gotten so worked up by the content of the book that he'd felt compelled to reach down, push his sleep pants and his briefs down far enough to expose his dick, and start masturbating, all without disturbing you in the slightest.
And only Kakashi knew how long he'd been at it before finally letting his composure slip just enough to wake you.
That's some use of jōnin skills.
You couldn't help it; the bark of laughter burst from your throat before you realized it was happening.
And the more Kakashi just stared at you in response—scarred eye closed; pink deepening the color of his face; hand frozen, just holding his dick—the funnier it got. Snickers and giggles built in your chest faster than you could breathe them out, more and more until your eyes were watering and your stomach burned from laughter.
It could have been anywhere between ten seconds to ten minutes before he finally broke his silence. "Y/N," he calmly spoke, your name almost lost among your continued hilarity, "if you keep laughing like that, I might start taking it personally."
Your body shuddered as you tried to get your breathing under control in an effort to spare both his pride and your abdomen. "I'm-I'm…sorry—" you gasped, squeezing your eyes tight to force the building tears to fall. "It's just…silly."
A strange look sparkled in Kakashi's eye. "I've been accused of being a lot of things, Y/N, but never silly."
"Well right now?" you grinned, "that’s exactly what you are."
“And just what exactly is so silly to you?"
Even thinking the explanation caused more giggles to sputter from your lips as you spoke. "You're secretly touching yourself to that pervy book while I'm practically on top of you. It’s just…funny that it affects you that much.”
Kakashi silently watched as you stifled the new outburst of laughter. His eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, but it quickly settled as you relaxed.
"Ahhhh, I see." He closed the book, holding his page with his thumb as he snuggled you a little closer. "Don't worry, Y/N. There's no need to be jealous.”
"Wha…jealous?" you echoed. "Of a book?"
"I only wanted to give you the chance to get some rest," he continued. "I know you've been busy lately, and naturally I don't expect you to answer my every beck and call. So…" Kakashi trailed off with a shrug, then leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don't mind me.”
With a smile, he returned his attention to his book. You stayed frozen in position as Kakashi went right back to reading as though nothing had happened, his eyes on the filthy words and his hand resuming its lazy strokes over his swollen cock.
Wait... what?
Had you just been...dismissed?
You were awake and uncomfortably aroused—two facts that you were sure he was equally aware of—and he chose to just...go back to the book?
Now you were the one taking something personally.
You nudged his arm to give yourself space to shift your hips, intentionally rubbing the front of your body against his side while you slid off your panties and successfully recaptured your boyfriend’s interest. Kakashi watched with curiosity as you propped yourself up on one elbow and gently shooed his hand away from his penis.
When the obstacle was out of your way, you sat up on your knees and tossed your leg over your hips to straddle him.
"What's all this?"
His voice was measured and controlled, but his attention was fully on you. You suppressed a haughty grin as you reached down to take his erection in your hand, gently running your thumb over his slit to collect the precum and bring it to your mouth.
You moaned as you licked the bitter fluid from your digit, swirling your tongue and holding eye contact all the while. After a few seconds you removed your thumb, glistening with saliva, then wrapped your hand around his dick once more to guide him to your entrance.
You bit your lower lip and slowly sank down on him, sighing as the tip of his cock spread you open. The stretch stung a little—your body working with less preparation than he typically gave you—but it was still the feeling that you were craving: him. His right hand settled on your thigh and followed as you went lower and lower, descending so slowly that you were feeling the burn in your thighs.
But it would be worth it.
Maybe now you were the one being silly, but you were determined to prove to him that no book could compare to you.
It wasn't until your ass met his thighs and you saw the smirk spread across his face that you realized you'd fallen into one of the Copy Ninja's perfectly laid traps.
He...I can't believe he sweet-talked me into sitting on his dick!
You had to school your face to keep your jaw from dropping in dumbfounded embarrassment. It was all too clear now. This had been his game all along.
Here you were, thinking you were taking some kind of control, when in reality, you were exactly where he wanted you. On top of him, hands on his chest for leverage, his cock so deep inside of you that you swore you could feel him bulging against your stomach. Wetness drooling from your cunt, making his lap slippery and shiny.
You wriggled your hips to get comfortable, noticing the way he triumphantly grinned at your movement. His cock filled you to the point that you could hardly adjust. And he just laid flat and watched you, waiting for you to start riding him, a look in his eye that proved he knew exactly how badly you wanted to do just that.
Hmmmmm, maybe he'll be waiting longer than he expected.
The perv truly loved it when you fucked yourself on his dick. Nothing turned Kakashi on like watching you raise yourself up just to crash back down on him, greedily wringing his every inch for your pleasure.
Not this time.
In a fit of theatrics, you stretched your arms to the side and yawned, giving him one last good look at your body and the cute bulge under your navel where his cock was securely snuggled. You leaned forward—trying to ignore the tight squeeze of his fat dick inside you and how perfectly it stretched you as you moved—and carefully laid down on his chest, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling back into his neck.
“Mmmm sleep tight, Kakashi,” you murmured.
Stunned silence was your only answer, and you had to hold yourself back from cheering in the name of victory. You were way too wired to actually fall asleep now, but the next move was all Kakashi’s.
Finally, finally you'd gotten the upper hand. True, you would probably benefit more from riding him until you were fucked too stupid to even remember where you were, but the victory of surprising him was almost as sweet. Besides, with his sex drive, you could easily get another chance to take your pleasure from him. Beating him at his own game, though? You might never experience this again.
Just as you were starting to worry that the silence would stretch on forever, Kakashi addressed you in a whisper.
“Sweetheart?”
And let the groveling begin.
“Mhmm?”
He kept his voice low and soft, his gentle question tickling your ear. “If you're going back to sleep, you don't mind if I read just a little bit longer, do you?”
You furrowed your brow, wondering if you should truly be insulted that he was still thinking of the book. “You want…to keep reading?”
“I’m almost to the end of this chapter, and I hate to leave things unfinished.”
There was a brief pause of silence where you tried to figure out his plan. “Okay,” you finally answered. “But don't move; I’m so comfy.”
“Don't worry Y/N,” he cooed, holding his book up in position. “I'm comfortable too. Right where I am.”
Suspicious as you were, you allowed your eyes to close as you breathed in the familiar scent of Kakashi's skin. Despite the demanding feeling of fullness between your legs, everything was serene. Kakashi stayed still, exactly as you asked. You couldn't even notice when he moved to turn a page.
You were reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that you might have to settle for a draw when you heard Kakashi’s low, rumbling voice in your ear.
“He licked his lips, his love's delicious juices making his entire jaw shine.”
You sharply sat up enough to look at him, cursing the pathetic little moan that slipped past your lips as you felt his cock brush along your walls. "W-what are you doing?"
His eye flicked to yours, the usual stormy grey now completely black and as devious as the smirk on his face. “I’m reading, Y/N.”
“But…out loud??”
“What’s wrong?” Kakashi grinned. “Is it affecting you?”
You started sputtering a nonsense response, but before you could manage to form a single word, he simply looked back at the book and continued reading. “‘You taste better than I ever imagined, gorgeous,’ he growled. ‘I can't wait to feel you.’”
The words sounded so beautifully lewd in Kakashi’s thunderous baritone, you couldn't fight the shiver climbing along your spine. Against your conscious will, the muscles inside your cunt tightened around him and forced a needy moan from your lips. He just felt so good, you decided right then and there that you were done with whatever game you'd been playing. Screw it.
He could gloat all he wanted, but if you didn't get some friction, you were going to lose your mind.
You lifted only a centimeter off of him before he stopped you with the strong grip of his one free hand on your hip. “Kakashi….” The whine that left your lips was absolutely pitiful. “Why are you—”
“Because, if it's so silly that I like these books so much, you should have no problem holding still."
What?!
He had to be joking. He wouldn't seriously torture you—and himself—like this…would he?
With a subtle shift of your hips, you dared to test the waters. Only the barest hint of satisfaction swept over you before his grip tightened.
“I said…hold still.”
Your walls gripped down on him, clear arousal drooling from your cunt. All you wanted was to move, or feel him moving inside you. But his fingers stayed latched to your hip, his pelvis stayed flat on the bed, and his voice stayed cool and even as he breathed life into the story on the pages.
“‘I want to make love to you until the sunrise,’ he proclaimed while stripping away his trousers. ‘I’ll spend these next five hours showing you the greatest pleasure you've ever known.’”
It wasn't even the smutty nature of the book that had you all hot and bothered. Kakashi could have been reading his own shopping list and you would still be weak just from listening to his voice. Those filthy words only dumped kerosene on the fire.
“‘Open yourself for me, my love. Let me inside.’”
Everything you wanted was so close. So close, but you couldn't have it. Not with the way Kakashi was restricting you. His wide palm was an anchor you had no chance of escaping. All you could do was ignore every impulse and desire in your body and continue to stay still while Kakashi narrated all the things you’d rather be doing.
“He ran his fingers along her pink folds, touching the silky skin he would soon feel around his cock. He smiled as he watched his beautiful partner writhe under his touch. Her mouth formed the most perfect shapes as she whispered his name, begging her lover to give her what she needed.”
You bit down on your lip to distract yourself from the sound of his voice, his smooth tone easily casting a spell over you. He wouldn't let you move, but you had to do something before you lost your mind.
Gently, you pressed your lips to his throat, testing soft kisses along his neck. Kakashi paused his narration, chuckling a laugh that vibrated against your mouth.
“Are you enjoying the story, sweetheart?”
“Kakashi…please…” you whispered. “I need you.”
You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh yeah?”
“Please,” you begged, tipping your head up to kiss the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Please, baby.”
A soft sigh slipped past his lips. “Hmmm, alright.” He shifted his weight letting you lean back enough to see his face. “I’m going to let go, but you're going to be good and stay put for me, won't you?”
Eagerly, you nodded. “Mhmm.”
Kakashi smiled at you. “Very good.”
With his one hand still holding the book, Kakashi moved his right hand off your hip. Goosebumps chased his touch, calluses tracing their way down your plush thigh. His long fingers splayed over your soft skin, fingers reaching back toward your ass while the pad of his thumb landed right over your needy clit.
You gasped at his touch, shoulders tossing themselves back without your permission as your spine curved in ecstasy.
“There we go,” he smiled at you. “Now, where were we?”
Kakashi slowly started circling your clit with his thumb. Another feeble whimper escaped you and your grip on his shoulders tightened, your fingernails digging tiny crescents into his skin as he continued to read.
“Her body opened for him, unfolding like the most beautiful flower. She was still flushed and sensitive from all his tongue had already done to her. Strings of arousal glistened between her folds, and he had never felt such a strong ache between his own legs. ‘Please kiss me,’ she sang. ‘Kiss me and make me yours.’”
You panted little breaths in time with the pattern he was drawing over your engorged bundle of nerves. It wasn't enough. It wasn't even close to enough. The action in the story was progressing much more quickly than he was. His thumb moved maddeningly slow, making your muscles twitch and your body want to scream. You wanted to grind into that lazy thumb and fuck yourself on his perfect cock. All you dared to do was whimper into his neck and dig your fingernails a little deeper.
That is, until Kakashi overplayed his hand.
“He plunged into her warmth. Pressure surrounded him; her h-hot, t-tight, wet insides fitting him just right.” His throat bobbed with a heavy gulp. “She was m-made for him, her m—”
Kakashi’s cock throbbed inside of you, causing both you and him to moan. Your internal muscles fluttered at the long-awaited stimulation, exploiting his moment of weakness and baiting him into giving you more. He clutched at your body to regain control, but you could tell his resolve was finally crumbling.
You seductively brushed your parted lips over his earlobe, relishing the heavy sigh he awarded you. “Don't stop,” you whispered, letting your voice drip with desperation. “Tell me what else he does to her.”
Kakashi tossed his head back with a groan, and his hips thrust just an inch off the mattress. You could have cried at how good the friction felt. “Kashi!”
“He—haa—sunk d-deeper inside…” Kakashi continued to read in a choppy voice as he worked his cock in and out just that last inch. “She felt…like heaven…so good…”
Carefully, you let your hips start to roll against him. Most of the pressure and stimulation was still directly on your clit, and now that you had a little control, you were already trembling. It was so much closer, but it still wasn't enough.
You wrapped your arms around him tighter, grounding yourself as you started fucking him the way you’d wanted to since you’d caught him fucking his hand instead of you. His broken narration started to get lost among his moans and your whimpers. You let his name slide from your lips in a plea, and that was the last straw.
The book clattered to the floor with a sound so worrisome, you wondered if you needed to stop. But Kakashi's free hand was immediately on the back of your head, holding you in place against him while he started to thrust up into you in earnest. His hand on your hip squeezed tight, letting go only for a second to land an encouraging smack across your ass that had you clenching in on him. Then he found his grip on your hip again, pulling you down to meet his thrusts with resounding wet slaps.
“Up baby,” he ordered, releasing his hold on your head. “Ride me like you mean it.”
With an intoxicated laugh, you planted a loud, sloppy kiss on his cheek. Then you moved your hands to his chest and pushed yourself up into a seated position. His eyes seared into you as you immediately got to work; rolling your hips and extending your thighs to rise up over him, tits swaying in a way that made him lick his lips.
On your first full descent down his long, thick cock, you practically screamed out for how good it felt dragging along your needy insides. Kakashi bent his knees and planted his feet so that you could fuck yourself on him exactly how you needed to.
“Fuck, that’s it baby.”
Kakashi looked at the place where your bodies met; yours taking him in again and again and again, bouncing up and down with an urgency that left a creamy white ring around the base of his cock. After all of his teasing, that sight alone was enough to have him ready to blow.
“Not…gonna last.”
Your fingernails burrowed into his skin, digging out little crescent shapes that stood out even among all of his scars. “Not yet,” you begged. “Please, not yet…need more.”
A deep, resounding groan rippled up his throat. “Take what you need. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
Your mouth hung open, eyes rolling back in your head as you worked your body over Kakashi’s perfect dick. He was exactly what you needed in every way. The breath was knocked from your lungs every time you brought yourself back down. Your body moved in perfect harmony, every muscle and nerve playing its part so you could selfishly enjoy him. You could feel beads of sweat running from your neck down your chest.
Kakashi watched you with both eyes open. His hips kept rocking to meet you, but the rest of his body simply reacted to your movements. He smiled as your body stuttered in pleasure, so close to your peak but barely missing it.
“Kashi…” you whined. “S’close…please…”
“Need my help, sweetheart?” Apparently, Kakashi couldn’t help but taunt you one last time. But your only goal now was to cum, and you vigorously nodded, giving him the control that he never failed to use to your benefit. “C’mere.”
With one arm wrapped around your hips and the other high on your back, Kakashi pulled you back down to his sticky chest. You held onto him as he pressed his wide palm into your lower back, grinding your clit into the coarse silver hair trailing up toward his navel.
“Kakashi!” Pleasure immediately washed along your entire body, already better than anything you’d been able to accomplish on your own.
“That’s it, Y/N,” he panted. “Now cum on me.”
You bit down on his neck and whimpered from how good he made you feel. The light sheen of sweat on his skin tasted of salt and only made your mouth water for more. You gave up on the last dregs of your dignity, grinding into him with the single-minded focus of getting off on your gorgeous, beloved menace of a boyfriend.
“Y/N…fuck, please…”
His voice was deep and reverent even as he was pleading for you to cum, and the beautiful sound finally caused the building tension in your lower belly to snap. You responded with a gasp as your inner walls squeezed down and suffocated his cock. Not a second later, Kakashi let out an indulgent, satisfied sigh and you felt his cock pulse inside of you, filling you with warmth.
“Mmmm, baby…” His body relaxed beneath you, his arms encircling you to cradle you to his chest. “Fuck, that was good.”
You planted a kiss on his neck, smiling at the faint mark left there by your teeth. “Better than the book?”
Kakashi ran his hand up the back of your neck, spreading goosebumps along your skin. His long fingers tangled into your roots, gently coaxing you back a little so you could look at his face. His other rough palm cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as his eyes narrowed to complement his adoring yet devilish grin.
“What book?”
tagging @deviant-donna 💕
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#kakashi smut#kakashi x reader smut#kakashi x reader#kakashi x you#kakashi fanfiction#kakashi imagine#reader insert#reader insert smut#rookie wrote
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It amazes me so much how much the audience has loved and wanted lucy and tim together since long ago. On the ABC YouTube channel, one of their most popular videos (at #18, to be exact) is the 2x11 clip of tim finding lucy and saving her with cpr. It has 10 million views. Absolutely amazing.
#this show stumbled into greatness#they hit gold when they casted these two and also wrote them in this way#i heard it wasnt the initial intention for these two to end up together#but thanks to the fans and audience....wow#loveeeee to see chenford winning#chenford#lucy chen#tim bradford#the rookie#jina watches tv shows
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You know, I wasn’t sure why Lucy’s conversation with Nolan bothered me so much. Until it dawned on me. If it was the other way around and Nolan was the one asking Lucy for help about something going on with Bailey, there’s no doubt in my mind that Lucy would help on any way she could. There’s no way she would go: “sorry there’s nothing I can do :(“
I'm a bit on the fence with Nolan here. I'm willing to cut him some slacks (to an extent) as Lucy basically ambushed him and they were interrupted by Nyla before they could really talk this through. And he did say he was there if she needed help.
Though, I fully agree with your assessment : Lucy would have definitely pushed further and tried to help in any way she could.
However, I'm kind of glad he didn't. Otherwise, trust that he would inadvertently do something that could jeopardise Tim and/or Lucy while still being the hero (no, I'm not bitter at all!). And better yet, this will probably push Lucy to go talk to Angela who, I believe, is far more equipped for this situation. She is one of the few people who can get through Tim… and she was pretty much in Lucy's shoes not so long ago. She knows what's it like to be kept in the dark by your partner for your own protection and all. So I think she would be more helpful and effective than Nolan. Once Lucy will tell her about Tim, I doubt she will be able to entirely walk away the way John did. And that's a story I'm more interested in watching.
But yes, I was a bit surprised by how quickly he 'dismissed' her worries. She was asking for support but didn't get what she wanted or expected. I don't think she felt better after that conversation, just more powerless and anxious, which I'm guessing is the whole point. That can be a dangerous combination, especially with everything going on with her.
#I wrote this before that new sneak peek by the way#ask & ye shall receive#the rookie#chenford#lucy chen#6.05
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It’s been a long day, perhaps more so than usual. A domestic disturbance turning into an abduction that had half the city looking for a toddler and their twelve hour shift turned into mandatory overtime, finally ending twenty hours later. By some miracle, nothing ended in tragedy and an after searching what seemed like every corner of Southern Los Angeles, they were finally able to make it back home.
Home.
Not her apartment but his house. A fact that Lucy still is trying to wrap her head around, how his home has become hers too. How she spends just as much time at his house as she does at her apartment. Not just her but Tamara too. Often spending her day with Kojo when the couple is at work or joining them for dinner. Something that warms her heart, knowing how he’d originally referred to her as her ‘puppy’ and along the way, took her under his wing and became family of his own.
Tim’s breathing is soft against her ear, his light snoring causes her to suppress a small chuckle to not wake him. Instead, she makes note to tease him about it later but for now, she lets him rest. Carefully patting the area around them, she searches for the remote that was discarded around them once he finally gave in and agreed to re-watch an episode of Hot Suspect.
Of course, he’d fall asleep to it. There’s a small snicker that falls out her lips knowing she should have seen it coming. Not only was he exhausted from the chaos the day had unraveled into but this wasn’t something to keep his attention. After all, the first time she made him watch it with her, the one hour episode turned into two hours as she had to kept playing pause in order to answer his questions and they kept getting into playful arguments over Tim stating how inaccurate it was and Lucy reminding him it was a fictional show.
Yet, despite this he’s never not agreed to humor her by watching it with her. Biting his tongue to stop the snarky comments and almost getting into it with the newest episodes. She appreciates the effort and makes a mental note to surprise him with something she knows he’d want to do.
Paint ball, Dodgers game, a Doctor Who marathon, an old Hollywood movie nig—Lucy’s in the middle of thinking of different ideas when Kojo’s bark echoes through the house. There’s a rustling outside that’s caught his attention though not important enough that he feels the need to get up from his spot in the corner of the room where he lays curled up in his bed.
“Shhh, Kojo,” she whispers, bringing a finger to her lips to try and get him to stop.
It doesn’t work and he ends up doing the opposite, barking a little louder this time as he sits up and stares out the window. Lucy’s gaze travels to see the branches swaying up and down, leaves rustling against the living room window.
“It’s just the wind,” she assures him though this doesn’t seem to satisfy Kojo as he gets up, running from one side of the room to another, as his barking gets louder. It’s enough to rattle Tim away as he she feels him suddenly jolt against her only to ease once he realizes she’s wrapped in his arms.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” her eyes dart toward the back of her head to look at Tim, still somewhat out of it as he adjusts his gaze to their surroundings
“Very funny,” he answers groggily.
“What?” she teases, “all I’m saying is that for someone who’s always nagging about situational awareness, you sure were out of it.”
“A. I don’t nag about situational awareness, I am just a firm believer that it is a necessary skill to have, on and off the job,” he shoots back though his expression and tone softens at the next part, “and B. I feel safe when I’m with you.”
She blinks at him for a moment, loosening herself from him enough to remain close but sitting up to face him better.
“That’s not fair!” she chuckles lightly as she shifts around a little to adjust how she’s laying next to him to better face him. “I can’t make fun of you for that!”
Tim laughs, shaking his head at her response as he presses a soft kiss to her temple. “It’s true.”
“I know,” she grumbles, “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
For a second, time stands still as their gazes lock and they exist together in this moment. The silence once Lucy always felt challenged to tackle being a space she feels comfortable in. They’ve learned to communication with only their expressions, Lucy knowing she can read Tim like the back of her hand and knows he knows her better than anyone else.
“You want to hear a secret?”
“Hmm?” she muses, this time sitting up completely as her back rests against the couch and her legs swing on top of Tim’s. His hand finds its way to her thigh as his finger mindlessly traces circles against her upper leg.
“I’ve always felt safe with you.”
“Bull.” There’s a defiant look in Lucy’s eyes, ready to call him on his bluff but he remains serious and she blinks, her expression morphing into a bit of surprise as her lips slightly part.
“Really?” she says almost breathless because for as well as she knows him, there are things she’s still learning. Things like this that somehow manage to reach deep inside her and cause her to fall in love with him a little more.
“Really,” he nods, “You saved my life on your second day, didn’t even hesitate for a second. Not even after the hell I had put you through the day before.”
“It was the right thing to do. Anyone would have done it,” she protests.
Now it’s Tim who adjusts his position on the couch, keeping her legs thrown over him as he sits up to face her better. “No, Lucy,” he argues, “Not everyone would have done that. You could have frozen. You could have tried to shield yourself instead but you risked your life as bullets were flying at you to save me.”
“I hate you,” she mumbles again but this time in almost a whisper as tears well in her eyes. Getting emotional after a long day at work had definitely not been in her plans yet here she is, almost crying because Tim managed to surprise her yet again with something she wasn’t expecting.
Tim chuckles as he squeezes her leg in reassures and leans in to press a soft kiss to her lips. She leans into him, lips parting as she allows him better access, wasting no time in deepening the kiss. Butterflies flutter in her stomach at his taste, by his touch, as her hand travels to wrap itself around his neck before she feels him pulling away and chases his lips.
“I still thought you were a pain in my ass though,” he smirks.
“Hey!” Way to ruin the moment!” She chuckles and it rings in the air as it intertwines with Tim’s laughter.
“So we both thought the other was a pain in the ass?”
“I mean it was part of the job. I was there to train you, not be your friend.”
“Funny how that worked out.”
“Well, that’s why you were a pain in my ass. Not only were you this hot shot rookie eager to prove yourself but you were good at it. You had a lot to learn and you seconded guessed yourself so much but when it counted, you never even blinked. You’d never shut up either,” he laughs, “Despite how much I told you constantly that the shop was a personal life free zone, you always shared so much about your life with me and you pushed me to share about mine.”
“That’s because deep down I knew you were a huge softie.”
“I am not a softie!” he grumbles while trying to bite back a laugh.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m not!”
She shoots him a pointed look, brow raised with a playful smirk curved on her lips. She can easily count off the many different ways Tim Bradford is a total softie. Not just with her but with anyone he cares about. For as tough and gruff as he comes off as, with those that matter he’d move heaven and earth for without question.
“Fine,” he finally admits, “maybe I am but people aren’t supposed to know that!”
“Oh,” the expression on her face drops as she feigns surprise, “oops!”
“Oops?”
“I may have admitted on camera that you were a huge softie,” she smirks.
Tim rolls his eyes, shaking his head at her answer. “I know! They asked me about it!”
“Sorry!” she giggles.
“No, you’re not,” he teases back.
She shakes her head with a triumphed grin curved on her lips. “No. No, I’m not. Can you blame me though?”
“I can try.”
She reacts by swatting him playfully on the arm to which he fakes injury with an exaggerated “ow!” There’s something so dramatic about the way he reacts that causes her to laugh even harder as he joins her.
The laughter between the two settles and their eyes lock on one another. Her smile widens as he cups her cheek. It’s so easy for her to get lost in that sea of blue, lost in the warmth and love his gaze holds. It say so much without having to say anything at all. She’s come to learn that he doesn’t have to speak for Lucy to know exactly what he’s trying to convey. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead before pulling her into him.
She settles against his chest, thinking about how she could stay like this forever. Wrapped in his arms, just the two of them. She simmers on this thought as she starts to drift away, eyes becoming heavier and heavier, until she lulls into a peaceful slumber.
#the rookie#chenford#chenford fanfic#chenford fic#tim bradford#lucy chen#tim x lucy#this has been in my drafts for /months/#and i finally got tired of having it half finished and raged wrote it??#except there's no rage here just fluff lmao
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Simon Riley headcanons
help girl this man is rotting my brain. anyway here r things that might not show up in my fics but i still think apply to him :] some of them are explicit autistic! ghost others are not but. he always is in my brain u get me. could be considered x reader bc i only mention s/o vaguely so go wild gang
Good with body language, figuring people out via how they act. Mostly good at understanding tone and such - but passive aggression is where he falters. He just doesn't get it mostly, struggles to register it. Surrounds himself with people who are pretty blunt so it doesn't matter, but oh man he hates passive aggression
Speaking of, he's so blunt. He just doesn't see why he should need to sugarcoat himself and will speak his mind all the time. Doesn't see it as being rude, he's just an honest guy.
Love language is physical affection he just has no idea. He's SO touched starved please hold him.
When he gets comfortable with an s/o he's just so cuddly when sleeping. Like, full on limbs everywhere, you have no idea whose limbs are whose. He loves it.
Favourite positions for cuddling are either his s/o on his chest, or him on their chest. Both becoming weighted blankets for the other, it's GREAT.
Also loves quality time, but when the person he's spending time with and himself are doing separate things in comfortable silence, it's so cozy.
The mask is a sensory comfort for him, that's why he wears it so often. He also doesn't emote expression-wise that much, which some people find disconcerting, so it helps. Mostly communicates physically through his eyes.
He's got a secret sweet tooth, and has multiple snacks stashes hidden throughout the bases he stays on. Gummy sweets + chocolates are his favourite.
He has dimples bc I think they're cute. That's all.
Good with kids but they scare him in the like "they're so sweet and I'm not sweet how do I handle it??". They think the mask is cool and just think he's pretty cool. Uses his shitty jokes for good if he's ever in a situation where he needs to calm a kid down, but makes sure they're more pg. Everyone thinks it's so funny to see this intimidating masked man make a joke abt fish being so-fish-ticated (sophisticated) when wearing bowties, but its okay bc it makes the kids giggle
Shows his affection in subtle ways when in public, he's not really a PDA guy. Like, pinky fingers intertwined, or feet touching when sat down. Not very obvious about it, but he's there nonetheless.
If his s/o is in the military he'll like do their armour straps before a mission, or clean their gun in between missions
Loves petting hair. It's so soft and feels so nice under his hands ohh he loves it. Lay on him and let him pet ur hair and he can die happy
Has a list of names of people who his s/o has mentioned hurting them. If they ever show up this boy will just glare the Whole Time.
Speaking of he's so protective but tries not to be overbearing with it. Like if someone's hitting on his s/o he trusts them but will just loom behind them to see if they need help. Waiting for them to either leave, or for his s/o to sic them on him like a guard dog, bc lets be real, that's who this man truly is
Loves picking his s/o up he's so strong so he can pick up most people. Only done in private time but will sling his s/o over his shoulder or stuff bc he loves hearing their response it's so fun
Good at art, but only really does charcoal landscape paintings. Very protective over this because he's kind of embarrassed about it but he finds it comforting
Not really a gift giver, he mostly just gives people money so they can buy it themselves because he's very practical.
For those that are close to him, though, I can see him making some effort - a personal sentimental gift alongside the money
Gifts his s/o one of his knives so they can protect themselves. Will teach them how to use it if they aren't military
Likes to fuck with new recruits who are scared of him because he thinks it's hilarious. This man is a MENACE
Cat person for SURE. They just get each other. The need to fuck with people and seem kind of hostile but also love affection on their terms? That's so Ghost.
#i love him so dearly#i wanna give him a little kiss#wrote this bc i had the sudden urge to whilst writing another ghost fanfic LOL#i mean hey if u wanna preview of my next fic in the 'tism ghost series#itll be him getting unmasked by a rookie whos bein a dick#so look forward to that#so much hurt/comfort gang#call of duty#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley headcanons#ghost headcanons#could be read as x reader#but i wont tag it as that bc i dont wanna clog the tag up :]
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Fright or Flight
CW: Blood, murder, death,
The air reeked of blood. A thick, metallic haze that hung over every centimeter of the gore splattered room.
Villain hid beneath a long, folding table, fist clenched tightly between his teeth to keep from gagging--or worse, whimpering--and exposing his hiding place. In his free hand, he clutched the bloodied end of his tattered half cape. In the chaos, he'd slipped in one of the pools of gore, a disturbingly warm and sticky experience, though the sopping cloth now left him shivering. From the fear or the cold, he wasn’t sure.
It had happened like that. One moment they were all bustling around HQ figuring out the logistics of Supervillain's newest scheme, the next moment, carnage.
This wasn't how Villain's first day was supposed to go.
"Don't. Don't." Supervillain choked around the hero's strangling grip. Villian peered far enough from his cover to see as she thrust the master criminal halfway out a window.
"And I should let you keep wreaking havoc because?" Her voice ran cold, as chilled as the ice water people claimed ran through her veins.
Superhero. Villain had heard about her. Horror stories for rookies he'd always assumed, but now...just looking at her...he wondered if those stories hadn't been understated.
"B-because I can get you information, keep you in the loop on other villains' schemes." Suddenly Supervillain grasped their pride again and broke into a loud snarl. "I'm an asset!"
Superhero scoffed, dropping one finger off Supervillain's collar to let him flail and sway. "You forget I know you. The moment I let you go, you'll either disappear and cause trouble somewhere else, or you'll scramble for your allies and attack me back tenfold. No. No loose ends. Aren't you the one who taught me that?"
"That wasn't-- Superhero, if you just listen!"
"Sorry, I don't make a habit of conversing with criminals."
And she dropped him.
The scream only lasted a couple seconds. As soon as he passed the top two floors, the wind lifted the shriek away as cleanly and crisply as if it'd never happened.
Villain's insides squeezed in on themselves, and he clutched hard at his gut as he slid further back against the wall. The last thing he needed was a shadow or a shoestring giving him away on Superhero's way out.
Or that had been the plan. Before his wet clothes decided to give a terrible squeak on the tile floor.
Villain froze. clenching either side of his half cape in both hands now and pulling it around him like a shield.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Superhero's red boots, stained darker from the blood, stopped right in front of his hiding spot. Now that Villain looked closer, it wasn't much of a hiding spot with the trail of blood leading right underneath.
Long auburn hair came into view first, the ends gathering together to tickle the floor, then a bloodied temple, and then those heart-stopping blue eyes. Like ice chips that somehow also burned.
Her gaze locked with his, and he flattened himself against the drywall. A fly in a web. A mouse on sticky trap. Prey backed into its hole.
"Who are you?" Superhero said. No real curiosity. Barely a speck of any feeling at all.
Villain swallowed, but that only served to paste the walls of his throat tighter together. "V-Villain..." he barely squeaked.
"Never heard of you."
"I-I'm...new. Today new."
"Unlucky day to start a job."
"Yeah."
Strong fingers seized him by the ankle and the next thing he knew, Superhero had dragged him on his back out into the open. The murderess stood over him, staring as if to peel him apart, and all he could do was stare back and pray the urge to kill didn't strike her.
She toed at his throat. "You're so fresh, I can practically smell the paint drying."
"I've done things!" Villain defended sharply. Idiotically. Why was he saying that? She didn't need to actually see him as a target and tear his head from his body! Just...for some reason the thought of her not taking him seriously was almost just as gut wrenching.
"Oh really? Such as?"
"Th-things. Bad things. I...I was hired by Supervillain."
Superhero raised her brow. "You want out alive, don't you?"
"Um...yes? If that's an option, I would very much like--"
"Then don't tempt me."
Another dry swallow, this time tagged with a sort of choking, dying animal sound. "Ok."
Superhero nodded. "My moral code doesn't allow mercy for a certain caliber of criminal. You seem mostly harmless. So I'll be going now."
Villain could only squeak in response.
Supervillain lifted the teasing-threatening pressure of her boot off his jugular and moved out of view, the light tap of her soles soon fading into nothingness.
For a long time, Villain couldn't move. His heart beat too rapidly and every muscle coiled so tightly that any attempt at getting up shot sharp cramps up his limbs.
In fact, it wasn't until Other Villain and her vultures came scrounging an hour later that he was able to--with some help--sit upright.
"How did you survive?" was the first thing out of Other Villain's mouth.
Villain shrugged. Even if he could get the words to come, he really couldn't say why the hero had chosen to question him out of everyone. Eventually, Other Villain had enough silence and pulled him against the wall to wait while her vultures went through stained shirts and pockets.
"Other Villain?" Villain called eventually, once they moved on to stealing larger items, like furniture and plans.
"Hm?" Other Villain said as she poured the contents of a desk drawer into her backpack.
"How does one get on Superhero's radar?"
Master Taglist:
@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees s @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi i @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer mer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolaxe @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee
#i wrote this very fast#superhero x villain#scary hero x rookie hero#hero x villain#hero x villain community#wriitng snippet#heroes and villains community#heroes and villains#creative writing#writing snippet#villain#morally gray hero
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Hey I think I just sent in the wrong prompt number😭 I wanted #42 mortify for Lewis Hamilton X Lance Stroll
Sorry 🫣
for "mortify", lewis/lance (+ george), lance/fernando
The first thing Lewis thinks is 'bullshit'. Not plausible, not happening, he never heard or saw anything, and if he doesn't let on that he had, George will too. Lewis is good at not noticing around George, not his expressions, the set of his jaw clenching too tight sometimes, George's back ramrod straight.
Years of this and George is just who he is, and he can't help it. So he keeps looking sideways at Lewis as the elevator takes them down, George for the pools and Lewis to the gym. George is wide-eyed as ever, but terrified. Lewis would have laughed, really—he's stayed with other teams at hotels throughout the years, and he's seen worse at 4.30 am, skies outside a shimmer between light and dark at the end of a long night for some people. The fact that he concludes having seen worse only makes what just happened more messed up in a sense, but it's true.
"You and Lance talk sometimes?" Lewis asks, because George is dying to say something, can't keep it in; George exhales out so sharply between his teeth it almost looks painful for him. He laughs, slightly dazed.
"Yeah. No, no, actually, not too much," George amends. "Do you?"
"Not much, anymore," Lewis says.
"Anymore?" George asks, with interest.
"Stroll's a good kid," Lewis says, and George blinks, like he never knew that, or has just had his view shaken twice or something. Lewis remembers Lance had been easy to read, nervous, excited, but it'd been years ago in his rookie year, and Lewis had made conversation with him and Esteban because they'd been exactly that. Hopeful and young. It's always good to make some people feel welcome.
"D'you talk to both of them, sometimes, or?" George goes on, like he's fishing, lingering before Lewis has to go down the left corridor to the gym.
"No, mate, not Alonso either," Lewis says, feeling himself grimace saying his name and watching George swallow at the sound of it, utterly bizarre, like it only makes what they'd seen real; Lance grinning so wide in a way that Lewis never thought him capable of, sly, playful and warm with something so palpable it can make anyone feel embarrassed just looking, sharp of Lance's teeth bright and turned down to Fernando's face. Fernando's hand was tucked comfortably over Lance's waist, fucking bizarre. Took a fraction of a second for Fernando to drop his hand too after the elevator door opened at the top floor to the buffet deck where Lewis had been waiting with George. Lance said hey first to them both, Fernando's half-smile and nod at them tight and cordial as they slipped past. His eyes had been warm in the same way, too.
"Let's leave that to the Constructors' and the track, yeah?" Lewis says, and George laughs again, strangled, relieved.
They part ways, finally.
#fernando/lance#strollonso#shentanheng#i suddenly realized if i wrote george in this too i would fill the word prompt. i think#sorry xo#but thank you george russell#and user strulovic who i listened to so i could learn the ways of rookie lance..#my fic#lh44#gr63#answered asks
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"Gravity" — a snippet
It's done. My first fanfiction in 12 years is done. It took me two weeks of processing, writing, polishing. For a one chapter piece it's... well it's long. But I am so happy and it wouldn't have happened if not the encouragment that you left after I asked if anyone even wants to read it. Thank you for that. I love this fandom already so much. I'm going to publish this story tomorrow, but here is a little snippet. Just for you, as a thank you and maybe also to share a bit of my excitement.
But please, be aware. It is my classic "thoughts without plot" kind of thing, haha. :D
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“Officer Bradford, I really appreciate you coming here, it’s a really big step for you. I think it might be a good idea if you start talking, too.”
At first, he doesn’t think he needs the change. After this first month he schools himself to drop into work-eat-sleep schedule and days seem fine. Sure, seeing Lucy every day twists his stomach, burns him from within (the fear), but it’s nothing he can’t handle (Angela wouldn’t agree). Most of the time, he is still very sure he did the right thing.
At least that’s what he tells himself every time he sees her getting in her shop alone, because she currently doesn’t have a partner and he should be there with her. Every time he can’t sleep at night, because his stupid brain keeps replaying their last conversation (and he really tries not to think if there was a way to make it right). It’s too much to take and he just keeps spiralling until he doesn’t really know what is right and what is wrong. He tries to level himself with everything he’s been taught in his home, in the military, in LAPD. Protecting loved ones at all cost, at his own expense is always the right thing to do. Right?
#chenford#the rookie#chenford fanfic#the rookie fanfic#oh my god it's been 12 years since I wrote anything#and i fucking love it#screaming crying throwing up#tim bradford#lucy chen
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Chenford AU where Lucy is Tim's guardian angel
Didn't expect this to turn into a full-blown fic. it was supposed to be an imagine oop. please enjoy I spent too much time on this
words: 5590
rating: teen and up
warnings: bullet-related injuries, allusions to suicide, substance abuse, and abusive parents, also a building blows up
summary: Lucy is assigned to guard Tim. Unlike most mortals, he's aware of her presence, and they become friends as a result. Detailing their relationship through the years
@accidental-spice
~
Lucy is assigned to him the moment his soul blips into existence. She's a veteran guardian at this point, has helped plenty of humans through life from start to finish. The first few fleeting months are simply protecting his mom while she helps him grow, just until he's old enough to breathe on his own. Normally, this stage would be very peaceful and warm, but Tim's mom has a few life troubles of her own to sort through, and Lucy works closely with the woman's guardian to make sure Tim isn't harmed before he's born.
He's a screamer. He's a very serious baby, very judgy, very spirited. Lucy can tell she's in for quite the ride with this one.
It's completely routine at first. Children are a handful, and Tim is by no means an exception. He's not remarkably special, of course. There's tenuous strain in his family, but it's nothing Lucy hasn't seen before, and certainly nothing she can't handle. He gets himself into harmless trouble often. He's bright. He's curious. He's a kid. Lucy dotes on him because his parents don't, and she doesn't care that he won't feel any of it.
But suddenly Tim is special. He's three when it happens. He's inspired to spill some secret, and marches to his mother who's working in the kitchen, proudly announcing that he's got someone for her to meet. Lucy drifts beside him as he says it. She's formless. Invisible. Intangible. Nonetheless, Tim grabs her by the hand and calls her his "friend". It's never happened before. His mother smiles kindly. She looks right through Lucy and says it's a pleasure. Tim beams.
It's not a one-off occurrence. Tim knows she's there. It's a strange thing, and when she asks other guardians, most just grin. They say it will either make her job easier, or difficult ten-fold. (it turns out to be the latter of them, naturally). Tim knows she's there.
He hugs her back when he's scared, even if he can't touch her. She's the one he asks for when he's woken from a nightmare. He can feel her presence. If it didn't make him a reckless little freak, Lucy might almost find it fun.
But it's nothing serious, as far as she can tell, and it doesn't hamper her ability to perform. She stays with her mortal through everything; she's there for all of it. His first screams, his first hours of restless sleep, for every dangerous toy left in the cradle at night, and every wobbly arm that didn't hold his head just right. She was there for his first steps, holding his hands when his mother let go. She was there for his first words, his first laugh, his first meal of solid food. She was there for his first day of school, and his first adorable little crush, and his first letters handwritten with the help of a pencil gripper and the teacher's gentle hand. She was there for every skinned knee, every monkey bar blister, every fight, every trembling lip, every spilt juice box. She was there every time his father came home. She protected Tim through all of it.
She saw him through poor test grades, annoying younger siblings, summertime adventures, and bad family reunions. She saw him through the nightmare of secondary school, along with all its awkwardness and hormonal imbalances and voice cracks and social anxiety. She became his friend. He'd talk to her sometimes, ask for advice, or wonder if she was proud. Lucy couldn't talk back, but she could convey her sentiments, and that was enough for him.
There were plenty of things to protect Tim from. His dad was a big one, but they found out good ways to deal with it. and Lucy was an angel. she could redirect the angry man often enough without breaking a sweat, avoiding confrontation in the first place. Tim was too young to have to face that yet. Then there were cruel friends (and enemies) at school, teachers with an axe to grind and little help to offer. Lucy couldn't read aloud to him, but she found him someone who would, and his grades improved. She was there for the football tryouts of course. Those were a busy few days.
Tim happened to love a sport that got aggressive at his age. There was lots of pushing, and tripping, and a few nasty tail-spin take-downs that kept Lucy on high alert out there. Luckily, he had a good arm. Quarterbacks weren't roughed up too bad all the time. He told her he wanted to be a lineman, and she was grateful to the coach for deciding against it. She laughed at him the night after cuts. He was pouting.
At least he had a good outlet. He was under plenty of stress as a teenager. There were tough classes, and tough parents, and tough choices to make about the future. Lucy guided him as best she could, but he still grew hard a bit on the inside. it came without saying in this broken world, and an abusive father only sped the process along. Tim built up his walls against reality, because he was soft deep down and Lucy couldn't shelter him; that wasn't her job.
He really tested her sometimes. It was his signature thing. the Tim-tests. She found it endearing, mostly, but sometimes he went way overboard and got himself in a mess. Lucy would warn him, or stop him once, but he couldn't rely on her to be his conscious. He had to understand the consequences that came with stupid decisions. There was so much trust for her in him. But eventually he did start being responsible. It didn't take too long.
Until then Lucy stepped into bad situations with increasing exasperation. There was a beach party and a cliff jump just a little too high for human bones on impact. There was a football banquet where he drank and almost drowned in the pool. Then there was Gwen Kelsey and the back of her blue pick-up truck (and the bad news between her legs). If Lucy never had to perform a literal miracle to save Tim from genital warts again, it would be too soon.
To be clear, Lucy would never begrudge Tim's nature to seek danger out, but she could disapprove of his intentions. Intentionally putting himself in risky situations just because he trusted her to save his arse was not appreciated. Joining the military, on the other hand, was acceptable. Lucy didn't like war. The war of man had no glory.
But Tim had few prospects, and he would more easily survive on the front line than staying home. There were simply more bullets to deflect.
His time in the army was a sobering thing. it made him more jaded. Not optimal, but Lucy was an angel, and didn't shy away from human heartache. There were plenty of nightmares. Lucy did her best to soothe them away, along with the guilt and fear that came as a survivor. Tim allowed himself to be vulnerable with her. He didn't cry much anymore, but he let the emotion show when she was there. He asked her how to carry on. Lucy would wrap him in a hug, and he'd relax. He'd be comforted.
The tours came to an end when some manic demon guided a bullet through the minute gap in his body armor. From the angle of the shooter, it should never have landed like that, but it didn't really matter. Tim took the fall. Lucy fought the monster off. She redirected the bullet again, saving his lungs and heart. The doctor told him it was a miracle. He let out a broken laugh.
After military service, Tim needed to keep up the action, and decided to join the police. He took to it swimmingly, passionately, naturally, and it pleased Lucy to see. Tim was a kind man: a real softie, deep down. He wasn't on the force because he was good at barking orders and getting physical; he'd joined because he genuinely cared, and it was only easy because of his skills. For the first time in years, he'd found his place, and he could settle.
He made friends, he worked hard, he was determined to be of service. Isabel was the icing on the cake. They were a total delight to one another, and Lucy was often entertained by their synergy. The two were so alike. They made a good match.
Tim talked about her often when he was alone with Lucy. He wasn't one to gush, but Lucy had known him all his life, and she knew that Isabel was something special to him. Isabel was a bright future. Isabel was family that wouldn't hurt him, for a change. Isabel gave Tim so much hope and vibrance, brought so much light to his life. He wanted it to go on forever, he said. He said he was going to marry her.
And for years after the fact, the happiness lasted. Tim had found a good normal for himself. He and Isabel swore to be lifelong partners before a crowd of people they loved, and the celebration was delightful, excepting the few dark moments where demons plucked at Tom's shirt and he made Isabel cry. Lucy intervened quietly, despite it being outside her job description. Ruined weddings were despicable to her.
Life carried on with honeymoon ease. Tim was still his tough, commanding self, but his heart had a levity that made him glow. There were still tragedies every day on the job, but they weren't personal, and he performed well. He was helping people. He was happy.
But being a guardian couldn't mean basking in the good times. Lucy had to remain vigilant, regardless of how good a place everyone seemed to be in. The fairytale started to crumble after a few years, and Lucy knew right away because she was an angel and could see things that humans couldn't.
Isabel was on an op for weeks. The long stints took their toll on Tim, but he was strong, and he had Lucy to help him through the anxious nights. It was supposed to work out. They were supposed to work it out. But when Isabel finally came home, there were traces of rot in her veins. She needed help. She needed it now.
But Tim had fallen in love with his newfound happily ever after, and any threat to that was too awful to entertain. He ignored the hints Isabel dropped him. He tried to pretend like everything was fine. He even ignored Lucy's warnings, despite her insistence. As a result, Isabel slipped away.
The fallout was messy. It wrecked Tim. He tried too late to salvage the pieces of his ruined wife, after doing wrong by her, covering for her, lying to himself. In the end, most of the happiness he found after coming home from war was smashed to bits, leaving him worse off than ever and half as confident, twice as ruthless, retreating behind stone walls. Lucy did her best to save him from disaster, but she could only provide so much comfort without a physical voice and arms to hold him.
It was worse, having experienced a good life and losing it wholly, than never knowing it at all. When Isabel left, that was the last straw. Tim gave up. He locked his soft, kind heart away behind his many walls and focused on staying alive, going through the motions. Saving face. He pushed his friends away, daring to be vulnerable exclusively with Lucy, but even those vital moments dwindled as his light dimmed.
It was a dire situation, to be honest. A mortal that lost hope was a wretched, dangerous creature, and the longer this went on, the greater the surety stood that Tim would never be himself again. He'd never feel compassion, never be kind. He'd waste himself on sorrow and fear if Lucy didn't do something.
Luckily, he was a training officer.
Lucy devised a plan to show him the seriousness of his status. It was a severe strategy, only used by guardians in times of critical need. Clearly Tim was in need, and Lucy was obligated to help him. So she went to the academy and took on human form. She picked a name that mortals could pronounce. It wasn't her first act walking the earth. it still felt intense. She was accustomed to watching from the sidelines, but she was created with a gift of empathy, and fitting in was no trouble.
Six months and a few divine interventions later, she landed in the front row of the bullpen at mid-wilshire police station. When the Sergeant called Tim's name, he pointed at her.
At first, it was a shock to see him. He'd gotten worse. So much worse. He'd lost weight, lost sleep, lost any lingering trace of light in his eyes. There was a heavy weight in his gaze and the way he moved. One that hadn't been there six months ago. What changed? At the very least, he'd been stable. There'd been no reason for him to slip further down the dark hole Lucy pledged to haul him out of. Now, he was dangerously close to losing himself.
She didn't expect him to recognize her in that state. He didn't.
Any warmth he'd once possessed was frozen over by the time they started their first shift together. It felt wrong, and now that Lucy could feel physical things her stomach was a sinking knot. Tim was unsteady. Tim was not himself, walled off and detached. He cared a lot about people and it was grating at him to be like this, deep down, but Lucy had to work with what he gave her. She wasn’t going to pull any punches.
He was merciless the first few days. Unapologetic, vicious, blunt and rude. He snapped back at everything she said, bossed her around, belittled her. If Lucy really was who she said, she’d probably be hurt and greatly taken aback, but she knew Tim. He was in so much pain, and it was clear to her. The other rookies didn’t seem to think so, and their concern was touching. But Lucy saw the way the other officers looked at her, like she was either a dead woman walking or a poor soul in for the most horrible year of her life. Angela and Talia were so worried. They told her to look out for herself, leaving the “because he won’t” unsaid. Lucy appreciated them. Even if they misplaced the roles.
When Tim got shot, Lucy was not afraid. He’d been through worse, and this time she was there to hold his blood in. Her execution would make him proud if she were any rookie of the past. She directed Lopez to the two downed suspects, whipped her gloves on, and held Tim for the first time. He still tried to give her orders. Something angry and defensive. He looked terrible but he’d be okay. She made sure the bullet missed his important parts. Just like old times. A different doctor said the same thing: it was a miracle. Lucy wasn’t in the room when the news hit, but she could feel Tim crying all the same.
The weeks it took him to heal were precarious. It was dangerous to leave him alone, but part of the gamble to assume human likeness was that she had consistent responsibilities, and they were distinct from Tim’s life. She still made sure to check on him regularly, and she was there when he was discharged. He despised her by the end of it. He felt patronized, and pitied, despite Lucy’s insistence. Always a stubborn man. Her words meant a lot less in the mouth of a mortal, even if they were clearer now than anything she’d said to him before.
Whatever else came from her efforts before he was cleared, he gained a modicum of respect for her. She could be just as persistent as him if she wanted, and he’d known that seven months ago. They were starting from scratch now. It was going to be rough.
Eventually, the Tim-tests came back. It felt like a breath of fresh air. While Tim was no less cut-throat and no more entertained than before, Lucy counted the violent slamming on brakes and demand for a location as a victory. He was getting a very important part of himself back, clawing, taking it by force. It hurt a lot, but the progress mattered so much. Lucy was happy to play along. Sure, she could read his mind, anticipate the nature of each test and answer him correctly every time, but the man needed to feel himself being productive. Even if that meant ruthlessly pummeling her for the sake of a lesson learned. She could take the heat.
Things after that became less bad, for lack of a better term. Tim leveled out well enough, to the point that Lucy trusted him to be alone with himself. There was little in life for him to enjoy at the moment, but she sensed that he at least found respite in the day spent with her, fighting crime, stopping tragedy, being human. He hated to talk to her, loathed her enjoyment in the act. He wanted to be alone. He closed himself off time and time again, even if a clever enough detective might connect the dots from all the friendly seconds she extorted from him, there was little substance she could glean unless she pushed him hard—which always involved a tough fallout.
There was one bad day she pushed it. The day was still young, and their calls had been mild. Tim hadn’t slept well. He looked like a wreck, even if he didn’t let it affect his performance. Lucy started talking. He liked her voice, she could tell, despite his claims of finding it annoying. She talked about psychology, which he hated, and she pushed him, and he hated that too. She pushed, and she pushed, and she asked him so many questions. Eventually he snapped, tired and defeated and white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, right foot near through the floor of the shop. The vehicle lurched roughly, and Tim worked his jaw. He looked so angry, and so sad, and so tired. His eyes were very tired. “Look,” he forced out around the thickness in his throat. “I just lost someone very close to me. I’m not in the mood to answer prying questions.”
Lucy could have swooped in with even more psychology. She could have cited a hundred various grieving tactics, ranging from self-destructive to completely healing, based both on psychological case studies and personal testament. She might have, under other circumstances. But this was Tim. She knew everything about his life, and taking on human form hadn’t changed that. She knew everyone he cared about, everyone close to him, and no one matched his claim. Isabel had been gone for over a year. His grief for her was nothing fresh. Not like this. And Lucy could tell that he was truthful in his statement because she was an angel and knew her way around his sentiments, his surface level thoughts. This was real, and she couldn’t think of anyone he might love enough to mourn with this much devastation.
After a long, sober moment not knowing what to say, Lucy folded her hands neatly and projected calm into the cabin. It wasn’t the same coming from a human body, but she was still an angel and it worked well enough. Just enough to form a truce with Tim. “What was this person like?”
Tim wrestled with an answer, paging a few harsh comments through consideration before giving up. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She didn’t talk as much as you.” He said, and his voice was soft when he did.
It took Tim a while to stop resenting her, to stop taking out his frustrations on her. It took him a while, and a few verbal reprimands from his friends at the precinct before his torture of her ended. Apparently he was harsh, but never this harsh with rookies. Even the sergeant asked Lucy if she wanted a new TO. She wouldn’t hear of it. Tim was her charge, and she wanted to help him as long as she could. He was hurting a lot, but he was salvageable. He was still good. Despite the pain he was going through, he chose to not give in at the start of every day, chose to consistently do the right thing, to serve people in need. His execution was flawed but very redeemable. And it was working out slowly but surely.
Tim warmed up to Lucy in his own way. The process was painfully gradual, even for a being who’d lived innumerable years within the constraints of time. Lucy was a creature of patience, but Tim was dragging it out. It took him weeks to stop actively hating her. She bought him hot wings to commemorate the occasion, ditched them on his doorstep the night his team was playing—which he didn’t watch with the same enthusiasm anymore, but still appreciated.
From there, they graduated to relying on one another during calls. Lucy had his respect, she knew, and she’d solidly proven herself a capable officer, but it was different for Tim to trust her with his life. It was nostalgic for both of them, except Tim was being bittersweet about it.
He started caring again, just a little bit at first, because jumping back in would exhaust him outright. It started with just covering her, making sure she didn’t die. Then he acknowledged her discretion. He listened when she spoke, didn’t just tune her out. He was more resigned than he’d ever been all his life, but he was coming to realize that life continued whether he was there for it or not, and peace was weaseling its way into his mind.
It was months on the job before Lucy saw him smile again. He’d pranked her with a surprise Tim-test, tucked away in a trash can in the middle of a park. The whole situation had thrown her off guard because he’d actually been enjoying himself. Baby powder exploded in her face. Tim was there to enshrine the moment in his memory. Through the blur, he lectured her about bombs and radio waves, and both corners of his mouth were slanted up. He shone softly with satisfaction. Victory.
Their relationship developed slowly but surely. They respected each other, they trusted each other, and they eventually grew to like each other. The haunted looks of the other TOs and all of Tim’s friends turned relieved, grateful. Angela pulled Lucy aside one day and thanked her sincerely. “We were worried about him. He never told us what happened. Look, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Tim never told Lucy either. She was just happy to see him back on his feet. He still carried an enormous grief with him: one he’d likely never shed as long as he lived, but he was so strong. He would be okay.
Lucy was there when Isabel got caught. Isabel had ruined herself, and it ruined Tim too. It hurt a lot to go through again, for both of them. At least Lucy could hold him now, place a steady hand on his shoulder and say a few fortifying words. It helped a lot more this time around. Isabel was caught, deep in trouble, desperate to cut a deal that almost cost what remained of her life. Tim leaned on Lucy then, unknowingly. Isabel went away for her health, divorced Tim and made it final. It was rough. At least it was closure. Tim grieved the loss of his best life as well as he knew how, and it was far from easy for anyone involved. Lucy didn’t shy away. She could hold him now and she did, as far as he’d let her.
They became tentative friends, on Tim’s part, because Lucy wanted to regain what they’d had all his life, and he remained wary—understandably so. He was going through a lot. She knew that. She wasn’t pushing. But now they could share light conversation without any sour emotion to discolor the atmosphere. They could crack jokes, share gifts, perform favors. Tim was fighting through the pain to get himself back. His fire was a thing of beauty. He made Lucy laugh sometimes, and always stopped to stare a little. She caught him once with a sad, longing half smile. “What is it?” She asked, still grinning. He looked away quickly. Swiped at his eyes. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone I knew.”
By the time Caleb came into the picture, they were solid partners, on good terms. They went out with friends, shared trade secrets, and Tim was getting used to being comfortable with her. Being kind to her. Empathetic. Compassionate. Old traits he’d had a long time ago. He apologized for the awful first few months of her training. She just shook her head and grinned. She knew. She told him she knew, she understood, she’d forgiven him completely. Then Rosalind Dyer kicked up a fuss, and Caleb lost luck on a victim, which meant he was desperate. It went outside of Lucy’s job description to use herself like this but she could help lots of people by getting Caleb convicted. Before she called him, invited him out for a fateful few drinks, she pulled Tim aside. He was doing well. She didn’t want this event to throw him through the ringer again.
“I know you have my back.” She told him. “I trust you. Whatever happens with this case will not be your fault.” He’d been confused, and worried to hear that, and he was near hysterical when he pulled her from the barrel with bloody hands, split skin from clawing at the dirt in raw desperation. She was an angel, not a human. Asphyxiation couldn’t hurt her when she didn’t need to breathe. The drugs hadn’t really done a thing in her drinks except make them taste like crap, so she faked the snooze and made Caleb haul her (fake) snoring dead weight from the bar to his car trunk. The whole fiasco would be amusing if Tim hadn’t gone so crazy because of it. He squeezed her with a hug, holding so tight and shaking while Lucy narced on his three broken nails. His laugh was wet and broken. Caleb lived. He stood trial. He was sentenced to die.
Tim and Lucy were so tight after that. Everyone was suspicious of her incredible rebound, but she’d dealt with much worse in past assignments as a guardian—not that she could tell anyone that much. Tim forgot himself in his desire to help her. It was an incredible leap of progress, so close to where he started. He was so kind, and so thoughtful, and he went out of his way to make her smile because he hated that she thought to do it for him first. He didn’t need restitution after she went through what she did. He was selfless. Lucy, in turn, rebuked any of his lingering guilt and shame.
There were times when he forgot the nature of their professional relationship. He treated them like partners, as though they operated on the same level of authority. And even though his nagging and stubbornness and Tim-tests never once saw slack, Lucy was totally pleased to carry on like this. Taking on the world together. Performing miracles. Doing wonders of good. It was a beautiful arrangement that took them past the dynamic between a rookie and her TO. Lucy knew he saw her differently, cared about her differently, worried about her differently. He was protective in a different way, and not because of guilt or shame. Or because he felt responsible for her. She could attest the same things too. Tim had been special since he was three years old. She’d do anything to protect him.
There was one call that tested her mettle. It changed them. The fire started small in the big apartment building. They were the first to respond, and the building was mostly empty in the half minute it took them to arrive. But there were people still inside. And they were charged with running in easily. They herded out the motile ones, carrying those injured by the building giving way. It was the last time they went in that the building sat down, slouching in and trapping them where they were. Just one person left. They were cornered in the hall with the kid tucked in Tim’s arms. There was no way out of the fire. All exits were blocked by rubble and branding hot rebars, and the fire grew still, reaching the gas line now. Tim was afraid of dying. The kid was afraid of dying, in spite of adamant reassurances. Tim crouched in the corner, rocked the crying child and gave Lucy a horrible look. He didn’t think he’d make it out alive, and maybe he wouldn’t. The thought was discouraging. He’d just gotten his crap back together. Lucy knelt beside him, determined, wrapped them both in her wings as the fire swelled. The explosion shook the building’s foundation soundly. They were near the ground, a lower level, so the windows burst out in the deafening roar of flame. It was a death sentence. A barbecue. But Lucy was a guardian, and her mandate was to protect. So she did. She was an angel; manipulating fire was something of second-nature. The heat ran white hot around them but Lucy didn’t see, just squeezed both eyes shut like Tim and pressed her forehead close like Tim. It took a long time for the flames to die down. No one rushed in to save them—which Lucy could understand. They should be dead. Everyone would be assuming them dead by now.
But Tim and the kid were fine, which was nothing short of a miracle. She let them breathe the stale air.
Tim’s confusion left him mute. Though that could have been the shock as well. He stared at her. Hard. Then the kid sat up and blinked at the fire, blinked at the collapsed building around them, blinked at Lucy and said “you’re an angel.” like it was obvious. It probably was.
They emerged from the ruined, blackened skeleton to behold awestruck faces. Superficial burns only. It was a miracle they said, and Tim buckled, and Lucy caught him by the arm while he fainted at those words. They were whisked away by medical responders immediately. So much chaos. There wasn’t time to spare between tests and discharge to see Tim. The next time they saw each other was back on duty, in front of everyone who wanted to see. Tim didn’t seem to care about the audience. He grabbed her hands and his knees gave way again.
“It’s you.” He breathed, strangled and agonized. “All this time, it was you. It’s you.” Lucy hauled him to his feet, told him not to kneel for her, though by now there were undisguised tears dripping steadily from his chin. He was trying to process, trying to find the words. “I wanted to be here.” She said, squeezing his hands. She tugged him down for a hug, finally wrapped her arms around his body in the way she’d needed to for years. “To give you this.” He folded himself into her embrace, trembling violently, squeezing her so hard and so tight she couldn’t inflate her lungs at all, like he was afraid she’d vanish from the physical world at any given moment.
“You left.” He whispered, at a level their onlookers wouldn’t pick up. “Without warning. I lost you.” The accusation was biteless, but it gave Lucy chills anyway. She’d come to Earth without warning, without saying a word to him about her plan. Six months was but a breath for ageless angels, but for Tim who’d never lived a day without feeling her presence, to wake up one day completely alone for the first time ever, it must have been horrifying. Had he felt abandoned? Lost? So soon after Isabel left, how many frightening lonely nights had he spent waiting and waiting for her to reappear? Had he called for her? Had she broken his heart? It was such a fragile thing, and he’d built so many walls to protect it but Lucy had the keys to them all.
“You weren’t there.” He cried. “You weren’t there to fill the gaps or hear me cry or say I’d crossed a line—you were just gone.” His flowing tears turned to broken sobs, right there in the middle of the precinct, but Lucy didn’t care. She just held him and held him and held him back just as tight and maybe shed a few human tears of her own.
“I missed you like I’ve never missed anything.” Tim said.
Lucy tightened her grip. What else was there to do? It was exactly what she’d come to do, and her absence was a thing of the past now. She could explain everything when there was time to speak, with real words, like she’d never spoken to Tim before. Now they were a team. They could fix this heartbreak together. “I’ll never leave you again.”
“Don’t.” His chest was full of rubble. “Please don’t.”
#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#the rookie au#the rookie fic#my writing#chenford au#wrote this at way past my bedtime don't come at me for the sloppy plot
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This is Pretty Perfect
“It’s broken.” Grace points out the fracture lines on the X-ray of Lucy’s hand and arm. “A clean break, fortunately, so it’ll just need a cast, and maybe a little bit of PT when it’s healed to help regain full muscle function …”
Lucy doesn’t hear the rest of her explanation. She doesn’t need to listen right now. Her head is pounding, her mouth is too dry, and every time she tries to focus on her injured wrist, it sends sharp stabs of pain up her left arm.
Besides, Tim is there, sitting on a vinyl-covered stool beside the exam table. She trusts him to listen now and fill her in later. He’s already been invaluable today, calling in her officer down while he chased down the suspect she’d followed over a chain-link fence. He’d handed the guy — cuffed and ready for transport — over to another pair of officers and helped Lucy sit up to lean against the fence.
Even though her legs and back were fine, he’d moved her so gently, one limb at a time until he could crouch in front of her and check her awareness.
He’d stayed until she was loaded into the ambulance, promised he’d be right behind her to Mercy, and made it into the waiting room before the paramedics had even unloaded the stretcher.
When Lucy had begged for water, desperately thirsty after the exertion of a foot pursuit, the ER attending had refused, in case she needed surgery.
It had been Tim who intervened, asking for a cup of ice chips and holding it where Lucy could reach every time she wanted to fish a couple out and let them melt on her tongue.
She’ll pay dearly for it later, she’s sure. Probably in weeks of extra paperwork once she’s healed, and a whole new series of Tim Tests she can’t even begin to imagine.
But for now, he can do the listening for her too.
Read the rest on ao3 here!
#chenford#lucy chen#tim bradford#the rookiue#the rookie fic#fic#whumptober 2023#whumptober#no. 5#'it's broken'#deadass I wrote this on 45 minutes on my phone#because today was a FULL DAY and I still had to write a fic#I love it though#katie writes#lw23
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thinking about overstimulating him...seeing a man so used to being in control be absolutely helpless.
he feels so good but he's afraid that if he cums again it will just break him. he tries to pull back but in the very same second he bucks forward, deeper against the warm soft palm that's already sticky from the countless times he's reached his high. and he feels insane for searching for more; for rutting faster and faster even though the tug in his balls is already painful and the sounds he's making are humiliating. shame and lust color his cheeks and his brow tightens and he bites down on his lip to hold onto his dignity but the whimper breaks through at the same time his load pulses out again; his thighs trembling and his eyes rolling back—
#*gunshots*#you already know who this is about#but insert any man you want to reduce to a whining shivering mess <3#x reader smut#kakashi smut#naruto smut#jjk smut#mha smut#rookie wrote
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jeff skinner 1,000 games. how about that.
#1. i am ancient and shall wither away into dust.#2. remember when he was a rookie telling cabbie that he'd rate his own stamina a two out of five#and cabbie was like 'jeff. women are going to watch this.' and jeff was like. 'idc.'#(yeah ofc i have Thoughts don't we all)#3. he still hasn't played a fucking playoff game huh. NIGHTMARE.#genuinely that's a fuckin witch's curse. 'you'll play over 1000 games in the nhl... but never play in the playoffs'#jeff skinner#BUF#just fuckin wrote 'CAR' on accident what year am i living in lol
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ACH - Anything Can Happen
While the major events of this day were exactly as Tim had predicted, the circumstances of those events were not even close. Lucy was in labor, just like he had told her this morning as she denied it, and now they were at the hospital soon to meet their baby. However, that’s where expectations diverted from reality. Someone had just written “ACH” in bold, red letters across their carefully scripted birth plan.
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Something something parallel of how you said Lucy always challenged Tim and expected more from him but Isabel felt challenged BY Tim and didn't live up to expectations something something
THE WAY I GASPED AT THIS BECAUSE YES?????
oh my god. i kid you not, my jaw is on the floor right now because i don’t think i’ve ever fully processed the intersect between the two in that capacity and how it parallels??? yes. i think that part of the reason tim and lucy do work so well is because they both challenge each other but not in a way that the other feels like they’re floundering. she obviously needed to be challenged by him as a rookie in order to grow but he didn’t necessarily need to be challenged by her and yet, he was. they’ve challenged each other to make the other better and help each other grow. also, when facing challenges, they’ve somehow almost always faced them together - the needle scare, plain clothes day, the insurance fraud fender bender, kojo, jackson’s death, tim’s dad.
we don’t know that much about his marriage with isabel aside from they were happy until they weren’t but one interesting thought i want to bring up is the three of them. i don’t remember the episode and i’m to tired to go back and find it lmao - but on the topic of seeing things black and white, tim wasn’t seeing things like this when isabel asked him to get rid of the drugs in her apartment. he was willing to cross a line because he loved her and cared for her until lucy challenged this and reminded him that this would change him. she held him to a certain expectation and she got through to him. it’s so interesting that during the entire ordeal with isabel, lucy was always by his side. even afterward like the fact that she contacted isabel to find out what type of learner tim was because she knew the book was challenging and he needed to read it in order to pass.
i would love a parallel to this where lucy says the opposite of what isabel said. how he’s challenged her to be better and has been by her side through hell ensuring that she succeeds and being the best version she can be because of him. isabel tells him that him seeing things so black and white is so maddening as he says comforting and what’s really intersting about this is that i do think lucy does see him being so black and white about things comforting because she’s the opposite of this. lucy came in seeing the world in a kaleidoscope of colors, she still does but i do feel like she’s learned to see things more black and white to because of him and vice versa, they’ve rubbed off on each other. 5x12 is such a great example of tim not seeing things so black and white and through a lucy lesson, she’s able to get him to see it. i also think there’s a difference between isabel and lucy where isabel didn’t want to disappoint him and lucy’s always wanted to make him proud like these are two similar yet completely different things. when the moment comes and we get a chenford wedding, i would love if lucy’s vows touched on how he’s made her a better cop and human being.
#the rookie#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#the way i wrote this out of order because i had one thought and then jumped to another#anonymous#answered
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Title: There's No Crying in Baseball
Fandom: The Rookie
Pairing: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Chapters: 1/5 (rating will go up with the chapter count)
Word Count: 2351
Description: Tim and Lucy round the bases, so to speak, on all those nights doing "nothing" and there are feelings.
Tim grounds her. He makes her feel safe because she knows he is honest. He pushes and protects in equal measure. There is so much heart there, and Lucy wants to peel away the faded scars like wall paper. It's not to fix him, but to witness his loyalty and his kindness. Like sunsets--brilliant, blinding, breath taking--she wants all of them, all of him.
That's how she feels about Tim Bradford's presence in her life. So that's a lot.
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#chenford#chenford fic#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#ka writes words#guys i wrote a thing#it's been like YEARS since I've written fic
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Hi :) I'm new to the chenford fanfic game and I loove yours. I was wondering if you ever wrote one about 4x01 after the hug? If wesley hadn't called tim, I bet lucy would have crawled into tim's bed (maybe I'm delusional but it would have made such a good story 🔥)
Hii and welcome, I'm so happy that you like my fics, thank you so much! (Sorry that it took me some time to reply, but I wanted to include the fic in the answer.) This prompt intrigued me a lot tbh so thanks a lot for sending it to me! I, too, believe something spicy would have happened that night if they didn't get interrupted and here's my version of it ^^
#
She didn't expect him to actually hug her when she asked him to. He's usually so guarded, so by the book, that it would be natural for him to simply offer her a polite rejection.
But Tim said "Come here" and now his arms are wrapped firmly around her and he's stroking her hair and her nose is dipped in the clean fragrance of his chest and all she can think of is taking it a step further.
Normally she'd reject any thoughts of the kind—Tim's mouth on hers, his breath driven out of control because of her—but the pain and loss she feels right now are like a whirlpool pulling her into a deep abyss and she's scared to find out what's in the bottom. So as soon as the distraction appears, she latches onto it with tooth and claw.
She lets her mind flood with images of him kissing her, of their naked bodies tangled in his sheets, of her chanting his name as he makes love to her. She knows he'll be gentle with her, respectful, loving even. More than anything, she's curious to find out how it sounds to give him pleasure. She's imagined all that in the few seconds their embrace lasts. All she needs is to make the first step, plant the idea. After all didn't he compliment her at the wedding? Checked her out and asked her to save him a dance? He must find her a little desirable at least.
With that confidence instilled in her, she slowly raises her head and rests her gaze firmly on his lips. Tim looks at her and then at her mouth and for a fraction of a second, she's almost certain he'll kiss her. Her pulse quickens, her breathing stops.
But he looks away, tells her "Goodnight" and retreats to his bedroom.
Reality comes crashing on her like a bucket of cold water. What was she thinking? What did she really expect to happen? He's her boss.
And yet, and yet. The sting of his rejection is a much more manageable pain than the chaos she's trying to escape from. And so her embarrassment lasts only for a few moments.
By the time her head falls on the pillow, her thoughts are again preoccupied with fantasies of him. It's not long before she starts feeling restless and hot all over.
And what if she regrets it? Regret sounds like a healthier feeling than whatever that hole in her chest is.
She woke up this morning with Jackson in her life. And now he isn't in it anymore. It feels unrealistic. Wrong. Like he's simply going to be home in their apartment when she returns. She doesn't want to think what will happen when she doesn't find him there.
Perhaps if she has her thoughts flooded with something as overwhelming as having sex with her boss, it will be easier to face that reality.
But then she can't ignore the fact that part of her is also glad for the excuse, as morbid as that may be. She's relieved that she has the opportunity to experience Tim erotically and then be able to blame it on a moment of weakness if things turn out awkward. God, she's such an awful person.
But right now, she doesn't care.
She tosses the covers aside and gets on her feet, letting the boldness inside her take full control. She walks barefoot towards his bedroom door and raises her hand to knock. At the last second, she regrets it, goes for the handle instead. Softly, she turns it down.
She realizes this might be all in vain if he's asleep. But when she steps inside the bedroom, Tim's eyes meet hers in astonishment.
"Lucy?"
He's on his feet at once, his gaze filled with concern. He walks towards her, but stops at a normal distance between them.
"Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"
For a moment, as she studies his intense expression and works up the courage to name her request, she considers lying to him. A nightmare is exactly the kind of thing that would justify her mindless behavior. But she's not that far gone as to use such a cheap excuse.
"No, I'm fine," she says, her clear voice cutting the charged atmosphere in the room.
Tim looks at her with slight confusion, the question evident in the air. What is she doing in his room?
Instead of an answer, she simply steps closer to him, so that they're again at the same position that they were in his living room, seconds after they hugged.
His eyes widen in surprise. Still, he doesn't step back.
"What are you doing?" he asks with warning.
"Continuing from where we stopped before?" she says. It's not exactly a question, but her voice raises up a little at the end as though it is.
His surprise turns into shock. His gaze switches frantically between her mouth and eyes.
"Lucy..." he starts, his voice clearly affected. "You know that this is wrong in many ways and you're going to regret it afterwards. Grief isn't helping you think clearly right now."
She knows, she knows she'll be better off if she accepts this soft, rational rejection now, instead of pushing it further. But it's like she's stepped into deep water and she can't seem to find her footing.
"Are you going to regret it?"
Tim shakes his head. "That's not the point. Lucy, you know me better than to think I'd take advantage of you this way."
"You're not taking advantage of me. I'm a consenting adult. I came to your bedroom." She realizes she's started sounding like a lunatic.
His hands are suddenly on her shoulders, his head lowered to level her gaze. "This is not happening tonight, alright? Please try to get some sleep."
She pauses, looks into his eyes, tries to find more fight inside of her. But the rejection is dampening her courage. She exhales in surrender and finally nods. A moment of silence passes and then she spins out of his hold, a little more forcibly than she intended to, and walks out of his bedroom, shutting the door in her wake.
She had it all wrong. Rejection is what finally pushes the tears that have been gathering behind her eyes, waiting for her permission to spill. She cries silently for a while. Finally, exhausted, she falls asleep.
Ironically, she has a nightmare.
In her dream, she's back at her apartment and Jackson greets her with a goofy smile, tells her, "I saw you dancing with Tim at the wedding."
She nudges him and laughs. "Stop, it was just a dance."
Jackson gives her a meaningful gaze that says she can't fool him.
Lucy pokes at him and they both start laughing together.
"I missed you at the wedding," she tells him then. "Where did you disappear?"
"Well, I went to see Angela. I wanted to give her something."
Angela?
The scene abruptly changes. It's not Jackson sitting in front of her. But her mom. Her mom telling her what a disappointment she is. Lucy can't sit and listen to her. She gets up, starts searching for her roommate, because if there's anyone who can put her mom in her place, it's him. But Jackson is nowhere and her mom keeps yelling in her head.
Until it's not her mom at all who's yelling anymore. It's Lucy. Waking up screaming from her sleep.
"Lucy! Lucy!"
Tim's voice comes from right above her. She feels his touch on her shoulder, her cheek.
"It's alright, it was just a dream," he reassures her.
She meets his gaze in a frozen state. Slowly, reality sinks in and the tears come back. Tim sighs and in the most gentle gesture ever, pulls her onto his chest. Her tears stain the soft cotton of his top.
They stay like that for a while. She can't help but remember another place, another time, a similar gesture. The safety of his embrace after she'd been buried alive into a desert. Somehow his arms have always meant safety for her. She realizes her hands have started shaking.
She pulls away from him in order to meet his gaze.
She doesn't say anything, but she can't help the pleading look that forms in her eyes. Tim's gaze turns incredulous. She expects that—the shock and rejection. What she doesn't expect is the conflict that follows it. The clear signs that he's also struggling with desire. His expression becomes almost pained before something goes loose inside him. As though he gives up and gives in at once.
His hand slides from her cheek to her hair where he latches on to pull her close. His lips land on hers with a soft moan of surrender.
At first she's too stunned to react. His mouth is warm, gentle. She'd always expected him to taste like coffee. But as she closes her lips around his bottom lip, Tim tastes like warmth, like the sun-kissed aura of a summer morning. She lets out a shaky breath and brings her hands onto his cheeks, opening her mouth just as he dives in for a deeper connection.
She grabs onto his shoulders to lift herself into a sitting position. Tim's hand slides from her shoulder to her waist, the other one still buried into her scalp.
She can hear his breath accelerate and it makes her feel dizzy with power. She's never seen him this out of control. Tim kisses her again and again until she gasps for breath and then still he moves on to kissing her neck.
Slowly he moves from the floor to the couch on top of her, adjusting his weight carefully so as not to crush her. He has to lift her leg off in the process and his hand lingers on her thigh, caressing her up and down, as his tongue dips into her mouth to entangle with hers. In a moment of impulse, Lucy wraps her legs around him, gratified by the groan the movement evokes from him. Tim buries his face underneath her chin, where he starts leaving a trail of wet kisses.
She finds the hem of his top and pulls it upwards. He lets her take it off of him. Then he gets on his feet, gathers her up in his arms and leads her to his bedroom.
She doesn't know how much of it she's going to regret later. Right now, all she knows is that it's never felt this good.
(masterlist)
#chenford#the rookie#chenford fanfic#tim x lucy#replies#anonymous#I wrote this very self-indulgently so excuse any minor mistakes <3
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