#Detective Tim Rockford

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Has anyone else done this?

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #detective tim rockford #tim rockford #grandma flores #the mandalorian #din djarin #dyn jarren #agent peña #agent pena #javier peña #javier pena #javier gutierrez #javi gutierrez #javi g #agent whiskey #agent marcus pike #marcus pike #marcus moreno #maxwell lord #pero tovar #joel miller #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales

[wardenparker]

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

“What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #Detective Tim Rockford #fluff #plus size reader

[morallyinept]

BADGES UPDATED & ADDED TO HERE!

So, Ive been on a designing spree, and decided to make some badges for some of the Agent/Forces Pedro Boys:

Frankie Morales - Private Pilot License & Delta Force Service ID Card & Certificate

Javier Peña - DEA ID Card

Dave York - FBI ID Badge (*Dave was actually in the DIA, not FBI - my bad! I'll re-do his badge at some point.)

Marcus Pike - FBI ID Badge

Det. Tim Rockford - LAPD Detective Badge

I've tried to keep them as true to the character's as possible with photos/age at time of joining Delta etc..., & referenced real ID badges out there to keep them as authentic as I can with fonts etc... I'm not an expert, but they were super fun to make.

☝🏻Please feel free to use these in your stories/edits if you want to. If you do, tag me as I'd love to see what you do with them. You can even print them out and make yourself a keepsake! 🖤

Happy Holidays! 🎄

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javier pena #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #dave york #marcus pike #detective tim rockford #narcos #triple frontier #the mentalist #the equalizer 2 #merge mansion

[covetyou]

some good friend - pt. 1

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

pairing: Tim Rockford x Soft Dom!Sex Worker!f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort word count: 7k summary: Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

A/N: finally, my boy Tim sees the light of day. I've been working on this for a while, and it's been nice to try something a little different. I hope you like it (and someone, anyone, please, stop me from making this a 3 part series too late, it's going to be a series)

divider by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Everything burns. His lungs, his legs, his goddamned feet.

He wasn't made for this. Not any more. His fucking shoes definitely weren't made for this - a fact made more and more obvious with every harsh, sharp, slap of his soles against the ground. Gone were the days of intense foot chases. They'd long since been replaced with hours spent at his desk, in interview rooms, searching the stacks in the archive room. The only saving grace was at the very least he was accustomed to low light - the dimly lit rooms he frequented coming in handy now as he thuds along in the semi-darkness, chasing after someone who is more shadow than man.

The drizzle of a cold October day certainly isn't helping either. He's coated in a fine mist of rain and soaked through to the marrow. His shoes - these fucking shoes - skid on the wet road, threatening injury with each turn of a corner. Every intake of breath blooms pain in his chest, each gasp seeming to draw in more water than air. That is, of course, if the biting chill of the wind doesn't swipe it all out of his mouth first.

He's drowning. Drowning and suffocating and burning all in one, but he can't stop. He can't will his legs to stop, even through the burn. Stopping means he loses, and he cannot lose. Not again. Not with this case.

But then, he turns a corner and the shadow is gone, faded into the darkness of an unlit alley, and out of his grasp once again.

Shit.

The ache is settled well into his bones by the time he gets home in the early hours of the morning. His tie sits damp in his jacket pocket - discarded at the roadside in a fit of rage and stomped into the wet ground, only to be picked up and pocketed a moment later. He liked that tie. His holsters tug uncomfortably at his shoulders, the twist of his body as he was running having shifted them to where they now pinch uncomfortably at his underarms. He can't wait to discard it all, to take off the whole damn lot - and these fucking shoes - and pretend for just one moment that he's not who he is.

So, he begins to shed the skin of Detective Tim Rockford.

The shoes go first. The jacket second. And then he removes his gun, stashing it in its case where it belongs and throwing his holster at his closet, where he'll no doubt struggle to find it again tomorrow. The burning sear of a shower is the last thing left to rid himself of the title that hangs over him, but instead he walks to his office. He needs to be Detective for just a moment longer.

It's tidier and more comfortable in here than it has any right to be. Dark wood, soft leather, neat folders, and blank papers. Of course, it's neat because he's rarely here to use it, preferring to use the space given to him downtown where a plaque sits on his desk telling all and sundry that Detective Tim Rockford works here. Here, in this room, he can be a little less Detective and a little more him.

He flops heavily into his chair, a move he immediately regrets when he feels the relief of taking the weight off his feet. How he'll ever get up from here, he doesn't know. Maybe he'll sleep here. Halfway between Detective and himself, stuck in some weird limbo where he is both and neither all at once. That'll lead to some good dreams.

Tim thinks of you. This was the place for that kind of thing, after all. This office where he is himself and someone else, the perfect parts of a person to be liaising with someone like you. Because that's what it was with you, a liaison. Nothing more, nothing less. And you, everything that you were, were his last chance for some good news before he peeled back the rest of the Detective and became himself for a few blissful hours.

Pulling a card from a drawer, he flips it in his fingers once, then twice before tapping it on his desk. You'd given it to him on his last visit - your address and number emblazoned on the front, both things he no longer needed to see to know, and a small list of services on the other side. Services that he ignored when you'd first pointed them out to him with a wink, but that he'd since spent a long time mulling over and, on occasion, searching in an incognito window of his browser.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the phone, dialing your number from memory, and waits for you to pick up. Anyone else would be furious with a 4am phonecall, but not you. For a while he thought it was what suited your work best - common sense, and his years on the job, had taught him that illicit activities so often were better suited to darkness than daylight. But he'd seen clients leave your studio in the middle of the day on more than one occasion. No, by this point he simply suspected you didn't sleep at all.

A click of the call connecting, a soft breath down through the line, and there you are, the lilt of your voice ringing through his ear like music.

"Detective Rockford, how nice of you to call. What can I interest you in this fine morning?"

He pinches his nose, card still gripped tightly between his middle fingers. You did this every time, no matter the time of day or night. You were always on, always ready to try to rile him and get into his bloodstream. He'd admonished you once, told you he was only trying to do his job and he expected you to do the same. When you told him you were doing your job, Tim had to admit you got him there. You were both professionals, just in very, very different ways. From then on, he'd learned to appreciate it. Even if it did make him ache sometimes in ways he thought best to ignore.

"You got any news for me?"

You scoff down the phone. A light sound, but he can picture you rolling your eyes with it anyway. "Always so charming, Detective. Diving straight in without any foreplay at all. You can do better than that. Sweeten me up a little before you -"

"Please."

He sounds desperate in a way you haven't heard before. A year into your arrangement and he'd never sounded so bone tired and stressed out. You can even hear the pinch in his brow over the phone, the wrinkles there getting deeper and deeper the longer you knew him.

"It's been quiet, Detective. I doubt I have the names you're after, but a few whispers have been floating around. The case with the cat still causing you problems?"

From the heavy sigh he gives you can tell it's not what he was after, but that it is, indeed, still causing him problems.

"Well, I heard that..."

And so, you divulge your secrets, secrets that aren't really yours to have or to give, but you give them anyway. Whispers and names softly delivered down the phone line where he scribbles them down on a blank sheet of paper, careful not to indent the pages below it.

The pen clatters to the desk when you finish. You both know you haven't given him what he needs, but if Tim's honest with himself he isn't always sure what he needs from you any more. Though, he knows what he wants. Yes, he's frequently made painfully aware of what he wants.

"Anything you need?" he asks, his voice sounding tight with frustration. You can't blame him any more than you can hold back the laugh that trickles from your lips.

"Nothing right now. Here I was thinking that was my line anyway, Detective. The things I could do for you, if you'd let me."

Tim's eyes are drawn to the card again, now face up on the desk beside the scrawl of information you'd just given him. Truth be told, your services are as emblazoned in his mind as the details on the front of the card. Sometimes, like right now, he could barely get that list out of his mind long enough to think straight.

That's the moment when, after a long day at the end of an even longer week, part Detective but part just him, he gives in to what he's been fighting himself for for almost a year, and clears his throat.

"Like what? What... what exactly could you do for me?"

You're caught between surprise and glee, briefly straightening where you lounge in your chair. Softening back into the plush fabric, you dance a finger across your lower lip, wry smile tugging at your mouth as you think of the very many things you could do for him.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I thought you'd never ask."

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it.

And it made him nervous.

He was in half a mind to walk away, but it was too late. His knuckles had already rapped against the wood, and you were already flicking the latch on the other side, readying to let him in.

When you do he's stunned, just like he always is when he sees you. This time you're half naked, a thin robe draped over your shoulders and left untied at the front. Beneath it you're wrapped in soft mesh lingerie, your nipples visible through the fabric as you beckon him inside.

The space - your studio - was a simple office unit in an undesirable part of town, but you made it work. As funny as it felt to admit, it was familiar to him now, and there was a comfort in that that was already easing the swell of nerves in his body. It wasn't always this way, of course, that first visit being eye opening both figuratively and literally. Furniture and furnishings that were odd were now somewhat normal, and the soft, rich, scent that permeated the room was one that he now associated only with you and this place you existed within. It was a smell too, he notices, that is so much stronger today than it has ever been on any of his previous visits, and he breathes in deeply, both to savor it and to calm the last of the nerves vibrating in his core.

When you shut the door, closing off the world outside, you stand before him again, looking a picture of sultry confidence as you size him up. This wasn't something that was new. You often stood there, letting your gaze wander up and down his body, lingering in places that made him flush red as you taunted him with flirty quips he'd ignore. This time is no different, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way you toy with the ties on your robe as you eye him, fingers gliding up and down the fabric.

"Are you here on your business, or mine, Detective?" you say with a smile, drawing his gaze from your fingers to your face. It was a long running joke, something you said each and every time he visited you here, despite the answer always being the same. But today, finally, it would be different.

Tim rolls his eyes, just as he always does, but instead of replying with a curt mine, he lets a smile pull at his lips instead. "Yours."

"Music to my ears. And you still want to do this? You're ready?"

You both knew that had a double meaning. In the literal physical sense, he knows he's as ready as he could possibly be. But he still takes a moment to check in with himself, to see if going through with all of it is something that he still wants. If those whispers down the phone, whispers that had quickly turned from flirty promises to guidance, to gasps, to relief, were what he still wanted. Would it be worth it, or was it a momentary blip of weakness and want? But then he remembers that relief once again, the soothing of that ache like sitting down off of pained feet, and can only imagine how much better that will feel here, with you, in this room. He's ready.

Tim nods, prompting you to take another step forward. The smell isn't the room at all, he notices. It's you. The fragrance clinging to your hair or your skin, he's not sure, but so much stronger each time you move.

"Good," you say on your slow approach. Barely a step from him you reach out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie before letting your palm rest on his chest. The soft stroke of your fingers does nothing to soothe the rapid hammering of the muscle pumping in his chest cavity, but you suppose it wasn't meant to. You wanted him excited and desperate for it. He'd already shown you how beautiful he could be for you over the phone - all whines and whimpers and yes ma'am's. Now you wanted the real thing.

"Why don't you get all of this off for me."

Before now, Tim had wondered how you started these things - how you went from 0 to seemingly 100 with clients to get them in through the door and out in the allotted time frame. He hadn't expected it to be so quick, or so easy. Maybe he just hadn't expected himself to be so quick, or so easy, but he's tugging at his tie before you even move away to settle against your desk with your ankles crossed.

"That's it, Detective," you prompt, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and pool at your elbows as he stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I want to see all of you."

And he wants you to see all of him. He wants to take off everything that makes him Detective Tim Rockford right in front of you, and have you take control, tell him what to do, make his mind blissfully empty. So, first he kicks off his shoes, then he takes off his jacket. Slowly, his shirt is peeled from his body, the nerves racketing up again with each button. He doesn't look how he did 10 years ago, he was less lean and more soft than he had ever been, the middle aged spread proving to be a fact of life he couldn't escape.

You know what he's thinking as his fingers stall on the last few buttons of his shirt. You'd dealt with these insecurities before, in countless other clients. You weren't immune to similar thoughts either. But, he'd told you he wanted to let go, to give up control with you, so you nod to the remainder of his clothes and prompt again.

"Come now. Let me see."

Tim's fingers work quickly over the last buttons and pull the shirt from his broad frame just as quickly, giving no time for the nerves to take root. You voice the sound of your smile the moment his shirt is discarded and he looks up to see your appraisal. Each button had drawn your eyes down his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and further still to the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Tall and broad and beautiful, the mass of man in front of you had the power to catch your eye even fully clothed, but now, shirtless with the promise of more on the horizon, you couldn't ignore the thrill at seeing so much of his tanned skin, littered with freckles and a soft smattering of hair.

His belt is unbuckled and off, and his fingers are pulling open the button of his pants and his fly. He doesn't look at you again. He can't right now - if he does he'll choke up and stop himself, feeling entirely inadequate offering this body of his to you. Pushing down his pants, down past soft thighs and strong calves, he steps out of them, taking his socks with them with each step, before nervously scratching at his belly.

Only then, does he look back up at you. You're enraptured, and have already pushed back off your desk, circling him to look at every inch of his body. You'd dimmed the lights slightly, as you always did for client sessions, but even in the soft lamplight he looked stunning. Your fingers trace the swell of his bicep, across his shoulder and the jut of his shoulder blade. A shudder runs down his spine as your fingers dance across it, down to the dimples at his back and over his hip before you round him again where your fingertips rest on his soft belly and the trail of hair there.

"You've been hiding all of this from me for how long, Detective?" you whisper, letting your fingers glide down further and further with each word. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding."

Tim's cock twitches in his boxers, the thin fabric straining more and more with each passing moment under your gaze. He'd never felt so seen, so appraised, before. The way you looked at him was so easy, the shine in your eye so bright as he peeled back each layer.

"You still want this?"

It's what he said he'd wanted. Days ago now, but he'd said he wanted it and he did. He does. He swallows thickly, desperate to get moisture back into his mouth, nodding a croak of a yes.

At that, you slide the tip of your finger into the waistband of his boxers and pull, stretching the elastic a fraction before releasing, pinging it sharply against his skin.

"Then get these off too, Detective."

His boxers are on the floor a second later, his cock springing free semi-hard between his legs. Raising your hands to your face, you gasp in faux shock, hiding your very real delight behind your hands as you take in his entire naked form.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I'm disappointed. After all this time you've been hiding that from me?" you gasp, and while Tim can't help but roll his eyes, his cock betrays him and stiffens even more at your words. You'd been through it all with him. Your services, yes, but also specifically what he wanted from you, some of which you'd discovered together on the phone that morning. This was one of those things - a thing you'd discovered on a whim, but something you both knew he would like before the words left your lips. There was a reason he was asking you for this and nobody else - Tim knew the specific brand of sordid you dealt in and, more than anything, he trusted you. Unfortunately for him, you planned on keeping exactly to your word from that call and, guiding your fingers down his bare chest, you tease closer and closer to his length.

"Tsk. Such a shame I won't be playing with it today."

Tim groans, a gasp of a thing he cuts short with a pinch of his lips. He's frowning again too, but nods, knowing that what he came here for wasn't that, but also very aware of the weight of the words you used. Not today, but not never.

Then, your robe is off and you're guiding him to the bed, where he lowers himself and leans back, watching your form as it retreats into the other room. He looks down, down at the body you'd just spent minutes looking at and enjoying, and wonders what you see that he doesn't. All he knows is he's trusted your word for as long as he's known you, and it's no different now. Whatever you see in him, you at least believe it to be true, and that alone makes it easier for him to believe himself. Before he can figure much or anything else out, you're sauntering back into the room.

In your hands you hold a few things. None of them should be surprising to him, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees it - the strap you'd picked out just for him. You'd told him about it over the phone, said that you had the perfect one for him, that you could picture him beneath you taking it, moaning and shaking as you fucked him, and now there it was, exactly as you described. This was never something he felt able to ask for with anyone else, his ex-wife especially. It's true he was always married more to his job than to her, but even in the privacy of their own bedroom he had secrets and wants he could never share with her - she made that much clear early on. With you, he didn't even need to mention it first for you to suggest it to him, didn't even need to feel the heat of shame in his cheeks as he struggled to find the words for what he wanted, because there you were already with all the answers.

You settle everything beside him, letting him see the soft, slender, curve of the dildo up close for the first time, and pass him a bottle of water. Tim takes it, grateful that once again that it was another thing he didn't have to ask for, and cracks open the lid, taking a deep gulp of the cold liquid before setting it out of the way. Another day he'd wonder how it got to this - how on earth Tim Rockford got so used to suffering in silence that even thirst wasn't something he'd remedy until he was desperate. But, right now all he knows is the heat of your body and the smell of your skin as you kneel next to him on the bed, looking down at him with a smirk on your lips.

"Usually I ask people how they'd like it," you whisper, stroking gently down his neck, "but I think we both know you'd like it on your knees, Detective." You twirl your finger in the air, signalling for him to move, and like the good little thing he is, he shifts onto his hands before crawling forward slightly to perch on all fours on the bed.

You think he looks glorious; he feels so exposed - entirely naked for you while you're draped in that thin mesh he can see right through. He doesn't want to think about how he looks like this, on his knees with his ass on total display, his cock hanging low and, already, starting to leak precum.

Blunt nails drag down his back, softly scraping down his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He shudders. You can see his cock where it bobs between his legs, and his balls where they hang softly just beneath the cleft of his cheeks. If he were a different client, maybe you'd give in and drag your nails across the soft flesh of them too, cup them in your palm and give them a firm squeeze, but you resist. Whatever this is doing to you, you'll deal with later. For now, this is for him and that desperate man, the Detective, who had all but begged you for information down the phone.

Grabbing at the small selection of things you'd dumped next to him, you get ready. Tim watches, eager eyes looking as you pull a black nitrile glove down your hand and snap it around you wrist, wiggling your fingers at him when you spot his gaze.

"I can tell you're excited," you say with a look down to his ass where his cock bounces hard against his belly with a tense of his muscles. "You're so ready for this too, aren't you? You've been waiting so long..."

Guiding your ungloved hand down his ass, you squeeze, gripping the flesh and pulling him apart, exposing him to your gaze. "Very pretty."

Tim huffs a laugh, not believing for a second that he is pretty at all, let alone like this, or there.

"What? You don't think you're pretty, all bent over and exposed for me, Detective? I'd argue you've never looked better."

"Right. Is this how you get all your information? Your clients must tell you all sorta things, huh? Vulnerable like this."

A swift, sharp slap is delivered to his right ass cheek, making him gasp as you tut and soothe the sting with your palm. "Ah-ah, Detective, you're off the clock. No work talk. We're here on my business now, not yours."

"Fu- Never off the clock, not in my line of work."

"And that's exactly why you're here, sweetie."

"...Yes ma'am."

There's a small delighted giggle that you just can't hold back, a sound that makes him flush, before you speak again. "Polite and pretty. Are you ready for me, Detective?"

It's then he realizes that your hand hasn't stopped its slow, steady caress of his ass cheeks, pushing and pulling him apart as you watch the tension leave his shoulders. He nods, trying not to brace himself for whatever is coming first, not hearing the click of a lube bottle through the blood rushing in his ears, but definitely feeling the cool trickle of it when it drips onto his asshole.

"That's it," you say, soothing with your ungloved hand, as your gloved one comes down to stroke the pucker of his ring. "We both know you're familiar with this feeling, Detective. Are you going to let me in here?"

The wet swipe of your finger between his cheeks almost feels like it could be cool, cold tongue with how you swirl it around and around his asshole. He tries not to curl his toes, and manages not to until he can't help but beg, a small please falling softly from his plush lips, and you immediately push, sinking the tip of your finger into his ass.

Tim groans, gripping the sheets in an effort not to surge forward and away from the gentle probe of your finger.

"Make all the noise you need to, Detective."

"Fuck."

Your finger steadily sinks into him, drawing out and in to collect more lube as you drizzle it onto his hole.

"Remember how this feels?"

He remembers. Remembers the crackle of your voice over the phone line as you told him to finger his ass. How his hands had scrambled to turn on speakerphone, the other still wrapped around his cock, jerking weakly as you whispered filthy encouragement down the line. Before even that, he remembers the nights spent in his own bed, concocting his own fantasies while he fucked his fist and fingers in tandem.

Except, your fingers feel so much different from his own, can reach places his cannot, and he's groaning with his head hung low between his shoulders before you're even knuckle deep.

Curling this way and that, you feel him from the inside out. Soothing him with a hand on his back, you can feel the deep breath he takes just as the tip of your finger collides with a spot inside him he was all too familiar with, massaging back and forth until he's a groaning mess.

"Oh, well that's a pretty sound, Detective. It sounds to me like you want another."

If he closes his eyes, he can see it, see the black of your gloved hand curled into a fist as your index finger stretches his hole. He can see already as you pull out a little, unfurl another finger, and slide it next to the first, ready to push into him again.

And he takes it, letting out a shuddering gasp, as your fingers fuck into his ass once again, scissoring in him before pushing down and beginning a slow curl against that spot again.

"There. That was easy. I think someone is enjoying this quite a bit, aren't you, Detective?"

There's no denying it, he is. The feel of your hand making him want to buckle into a heap on the bed already and you'd barely even started.

"Yeah. It's - ah fuck - it's good. That's - uh - not fair."

You'd been curling and prodding against his prostate as he tried to talk, making him garble words at you as you watch his cock get more and more engorged between his thighs. "What's not fair?" you ask, with a firmer press down into the spot, and you relish in the deep gravelly moan that grumbles from his chest, forcing his elbows to drop down onto the mattress.

When his hips buck forward, you place a steadying hand on his back, stroking soothing circles with your bare fingers over the dimples in his skin whilst your gloved ones curl into the spot again and again. Part of him is longing to reach down and grab his cock, to jerk it and come all over his fist with your fingers buried in his ass, but that's not what he's here for. Each time he opens his eyes he's made aware of what he's here for by the strap that still lays next to him. If he comes too soon, he's scared that'll be it over, the relief he was really seeking from you still totally out of reach by his own failure. He couldn't, wouldn't, fail at this too.

"Just look at you, Detective. You're getting so wet already." He is. He can feel it. His cock is dripping, beads of precum collecting on his tip and threatening to make a mess of the sheets below. Nodding and groaning and squeezing his eyes shut seem to be all he can do already, feeling like a total mess of a man with your voice like honey trickling into his ear. "So good. I think you can take one more finger. That's it, just one more. Good. Good boy."

He preens, back arching with the praise, cock definitely dripping onto the sheets now, three of your fingers curling and thrusting into his ass. He throbs, the ache of arousal thrumming through him with no relief, just building and building and building with nowhere to go, because you don't let it. You control it, each press of your fingers still so achingly slow that it can make him drip and ache but never explode.

A thin sheen of sweat is coating his body, his legs shaking, forehead pressed into the cool sheets, groans falling wantonly from his mouth, by the time you gingerly pull your fingers from him. That in itself feels like a relief, he thinks. Even though he's still painfully hard at least, for one moment, he's not being worked up and up to an edge you won't quite let him over just yet.

But the strap beside him is gone when he looks up, pushing up on shaky hands to look around for you again. Now, it sits on your hips, straps pulled taught over the mesh of your lingerie. You're pulling a condom over the length of dildo, rolling it down to the base, your glove discarded somewhere he can't see. His mouth is dry again, so he reaches for the water, swallowing deeply, wiping away an errant drop from the scruff of his beard.

He can't stop looking. Between your face, your beautiful face, your scantily clad body, your hands and those fingers that had just been inside him, the cock between your legs. He's entranced. It takes a gentle hand on his shoulder for him to notice you're talking to him.

"Look at you, Detective," you hum down to him, and all he can think is Yes. Look at me. Please. Here he was, stripped bare as a man could be, seen by you in ways he'd never been seen. And that name - a taunt coming from you that he longed for rather than loathed. Each tease of Detective a reminder that with you he could be both and neither all at once, just as he always was.

He reaches for you then. Slowly. Delicately. Fingers bridging the gap between you. Usually you'd step back, move away from grasping hands when permission wasn't granted. But, you let him touch, his fingers resting on your mesh covered hip and stroking you. It's the first time he's ever touched you, and it's so soft. You're so soft.

"You're ready for it, aren't you?" you ask, your eyes lazily dragging down to the strap between your legs where his follow.

Without word, and avoiding the mess already splattered on the sheet, he moves back to all fours, his hand leaving you cold. Slicking more lube across the strap, you kneel behind him, palming his ass with both hands, rubbing soft circles down his thighs as you gently rut against the crevasse of his ass.

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

It's a stupid question - stupid because you already know the answer, and so does he.

"You're kidding, right?" he says in disbelief, looking around to see the coy smile on your face.

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still on you, you press forward, hand steadying the dildo to slip the tip into his slick asshole.

"Oh. That's it. Look at me when I fuck your ass. That feels so good doesn't it?"

Tim pants, nodding as you bear forward. The strap is barely thicker than your three fingers, but his rim still stretches and pulls as you breach him, slowly, steadily, until the entire length is buried in his ass.

"There we go. That's it. I'm all the way in. You take an ass fucking so well, Detective. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" With another roll of your hips he's gasping again, dropping his face to the sheet. The heat of his thighs are against yours and you know, you just know, that his cock is straining, his balls begging to empty already.

"There we are. That's it. You can take it. Oh, good boy. You like that don't you. You like being a good boy."

With his cheek is pressed to the mattress, you can see nothing but the pinched look of ecstasy on his face. It's boiling in his veins too, the heat spreading up his back and burning his cheeks. If he opens his eyes he'll see you, looking down with intent at his ass as you slowly roll your hips into him, and the thought alone makes him groan, brings him so close to coming that he's scrambling for purchase on the bed again, desperate gasps rattling out of him. The cloying scent of you is all over him - stuck in his lungs like molasses, each deep breath in of you coinciding with each slap of your hips against his ass until desperation turns to pleading.

"Please. P-please. Fuck. Please."

"Please what?" you say, looking around at him. And that's when you see his cock, angry and weeping, splattering cum all over your sheets. You hadn't felt him come yet, there'd been no tensing of his muscles or twitching of his cock, just a steady stream of precum dripping from him like a leaky faucet. "Oh, look at that. You're making quite the mess, aren't you, sweetie? Are you going to clean that up? Hm? Or will I have to bill the city for my laundry?"

"Oh, fu-," he pants, and you feel a shiver trickle down his back at the empty threat, his palms pressing harder into the mattress beneath him as his shoulders draw back. He's going to come. You don't even need to move, you could just talk to him in that voice of yours, call him a good boy and tell him how dirty he is and he'd be gone, skyrocketing to a place he'd never been and making a glorious mess of everything.

"What was that?" You slow down the roll of your hips, drawing him back from that edge you'd been dangling him so deliciously over.

"No. No. Don't - Fuck."

"Then you'll have to clean up your mess."

You swipe your finger through the cum that has steadily dripped from his cock and onto the sheet below, and lean forward to bring it to his lips, pressing your hips further and further into his ass. There's a sticky sheen of sweat on his back that slicks you together, and you can't resist. You kiss him. Soft lips pressing into the muscle of his shoulder, waiting for that moment he parts his lips in a voiceless moan to slip your finger inside. His tongue laves around your digit, tasting himself on the salt of your skin and he groans, vibrating desperate sounds from his chest to yours as you fuck so deep he's seeing stars.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you coo, dragging your finger from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva across the scruff of his cheek.

"It's such a shame I have no use for your cock when it looks so pretty, Detective," You say, lifting your leg to fuck more deeply into him. "Look at it, all drippy and useless. You're going to come, aren't you? Even without touching your cock, you're going to come and make even more of a mess."

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Don't stop."

The steady slap of your hips picks up, and you're panting with exertion now too. You could've had him coming in five minutes, but that was no fun for you. You'd waited too long for this not to drag it out, not to see how long he could hold off for you, how much of a desperate mess he could be before he was begging for release. This was it. His limit. You'd found it, and his groans were suddenly impossible to ignore, shooting white hot heat into your own core, making you feel slick with want as you fucked him. You need him to come, before your need for more friction clouds your brain and you need to slip your hand between your own legs before he even leaves.

"Such a pretty ass to ruin. Come for me, Detective. Oh, fuck. Come for me."

He stops breathing. He thinks he's died. He has to have. You think you've killed him. But then his whole body tenses and he groans out a sob, biting sheets and spitting them out over and over as he comes, and comes, and comes. You don't stop, each shuddering sob of a gasp spurring you on until he's milked dry and almost prone on the mattress.

"That's it. That's it. You did it. Good boy. Well done, Detective. Well done."

He feels so soft. His bones must have turned to dust and spurted out of his cock with that final thrust of the strap in his ass. He's never been this weightless, never been this carefree. There's not an ache in him, just pure bliss, and he's so relieved he could cry.

And you're there. Pulling out of him slowly, wiping down his back, his thighs, with a damp towel, cooling him before you dry him with another, bringing water to his lips for him to drink. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you guide him onto his back, letting him lie down and take a moments rest you know the man wouldn't take any other time. You're fairly certain he doesn't sleep. Detective Rockford works too hard because he cares too much, you know that. And you also know he doesn't care for himself. That is why he's here, even if he'd never say so himself.

"Up you get, sweetie. It's cold. Let's get something on you," you're whispering to him all too soon. Tim's lost, the concept of time gone from his body entirely, but he supposes it has been too long, his time is up. He only paid for an hour of your time, and even that seemed much more valuable than the price you'd put on it. He should go.

When he sits up he's lethargic, reaching for his clothes as he shuffles to the end of the bed. He doesn't know you're holding a robe out for him, strap discarded. He doesn't see the concern in your eyes because he suddenly can't meet them. "Should get going, I guess."

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

Tim looks up to you then, seeing you wrapped and fully covered for the first time in the year he's known you. You're no more on the job right now than he is, he realizes, blinking in confusion at the robe you toss next to him.

"Look, I've taken up enough of your time, I don't want to overstep -"

"I'm not asking you to stay as a client, Detective. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. Stay. Talk to me." And you say it because god knows you mean it. You want him to stay and you want him to talk as much as you know he needs it, that gap he'd bridged with his hand now being bridged by you, and your simple request that he stay.

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

“The point still stands either way," you say. And you mean that too. "Stay."

And that's it. There he is. Stripped back, just like he wanted. No more Detective. Just Tim. And there you are. Sitting on the blanket draped sofa, looking him straight in the eye. You don't need to look down to see him, and he doesn't need to look up to see you.

Grabbing the robe, Tim drapes it around himself, walking on unsteady feet toward you, the mess of the sheets and his life forgotten for one more second.

"Decaf? Might not have all the answers. But I do have coffee. And that's a start."

"Yeah," he says as he sits beside you. "Yeah, that's a start."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads

also a little sneaky tag if you showed interest in my snippet the other day 💛 @heareball @nerdieforpedro @missredherring @survivingandenduring

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #merge mansion #merge mansion fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #coveted fics

[londonspirit]

just to have them all in one place

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #merge mansion game #merge mansion game ad #videos #game ad #game commercial

[ladamedusoif]

Cookies (Tim Rockford X F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 26

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 1455

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Established relationship (Reader is Tim’s wife); workplace sex; fingering; unprotected but safe PiV sex (Reader is on birth control); no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of Reader; strong language; when we say “fuck the police” this is what we mean

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist!

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up with my work.

Tim kisses you on the cheek as he heads down to the precinct on Christmas Eve, overcoat in hand.

“I hate leaving you all, baby, but…”

You wrap him in a tight embrace and return his kiss. “Tim, you’re a good man. I’m sure Corinna appreciates you taking the Christmas Eve cover, so she can be at home for her baby’s first Christmas.”

Your husband’s ears pink up a little at your praise. “I guess. And older cops did it for us, too, when the kids were tiny.”

He looks over your shoulder into your mother’s kitchen, where your daughters are excitedly asking their grandma whether the Christmas cookies are cool enough to decorate. You turn and smile at the scene.

“I love you, Detective Rockford. We’ll save you some cookies. Come home safe.”

***

The cop at the front desk is thanking his lucky stars as he sips his umpteenth cup of filter coffee. It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and - other than a couple of minor call-outs for the guys out in the patrol car to break up bar fights - he hasn’t had to book a single person into the cells.

It’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

And then the door buzzes. He sighs in exasperation and checks the CCTV. A woman, wearing a winter hat and carrying a tote bag. He presses the button to let her in.

“Hello there, ma’am. Now, I have to warn you, as it’s Christmas Eve we don’t have a full complement of officers in tonight and - oh! Hi there, Mrs R!”

You smile as you take off your hat and scarf, and hand him a small tin. “Hey, Bryan. Tim in his office?”

“Sure is. Hey, these some of your famous cookies?”

You’re already climbing the stairs to your husband’s office. “Maybe. Open it and see if Santa thinks you’ve been a good cop this year.”

***

Tim’s at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up and tie slightly loose, flipping through some papers with his glasses on. The desk lamp bathes him in a warm light, highlighting his handsome features, and you pause for a moment to take him in before you knock on the door.

He looks up in surprise before a broad smile spreads across his face. “Hello there, miss. What brings you to the precinct on a Christmas Eve?”

You carefully close the door and turn the little lock on the handle, before pulling down the blind. You reach into your bag and produce another cookie tin, sauntering over to Tim’s desk and placing it in front of him.

“So, everyone was tucked up in bed at home, and would you believe it? I met Santa Claus, leaving gifts for the girls.”

Your husband chuckles and pulls you onto his lap. “That so?”

You nod. “The man himself. And you know what he said?”

Tim shakes his head, eyes twinkling. You lean in and kiss him softly.

“He said that Tim Rockford had been a particularly good boy this year, and he should get an extra special gift.”

Tim’s eyes turn to the cookie tin. “The cookies?”

You shrug, reach for the tin, and open the lid. “You could say that, I guess. They’re part of the gift.”

He bursts out laughing when he looks inside and takes out a gingerbread man perfectly decorated to resemble - well, him. White shirt, black pants, dark hair and moustache, tie, and even a pair of shoulder holsters.

“Your handiwork?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Damn right. Why wouldn’t I make cookies that look like the most delicious man I know?”

He eyes you up suspiciously, but a smile plays on his lips. “You said the cookies were part of the gift.”

You stand up and move his paperwork out of the way, clearing enough space on the desk so that you can sit up on it. “The other part is under my coat.”

Tim’s eyes widen as he reaches for the buttons on your knee-length woollen coat, unbuttoning them eagerly and pulling the coat open.

His mouth falls open. “Holy fuck, baby.”

“You like what you see?” You fight against all the anxieties and insecurities that haunt you about your body, focusing on the look of astonished desire that’s burning in your husband’s eyes.

Tim’s eyes roam over you, taking in the dark red bra and matching, high-waisted panties trimmed in black lace, the sheer black stockings. He carefully eases off your coat and throws it to one side, running his big hands gently over the soft skin of your shoulders as he slips down the straps of your bra.

“I love what I see.” His voice is a rapt whisper.

He slips his hands to your back and waist and pulls you tight to him as he kisses you deeply, moaning as you twine your fingers through his dark, grey-streaked curls. You bring your hands to his belt buckle, working it open and undoing his pants so you can palm his cock, already hardening under your touch.

Tim brings his mouth to the side of your neck and begins to softly bite and lick the sensitive skin, working his way down to your breasts as one hand holds you in place while the other tugs aside the lacy fabric that covers your pussy. “I fucking love what I see,” he grunts, pulling down the cups of your bra to expose your breasts. “I love you. My sexy fucking wife.”

You whine as two thick fingers trail across your folds before settling on your clit, working it steadily in the way only he knows. “I’m going to get you good and wet for me, my love,” Tim murmurs, encouraging you to lift your hips so he can ease off your panties.

“Mmmm… and then what are you going to do to me, Detective?”

He slips his fingers into your cunt, pulling a delighted gasp from you. “And then, Mrs Rockford, I plan on fucking you hard right here on this desk. But only if you come for me first.”

A hook of his fingers and you’re squealing with pleasure as Tim spreads you out in front of him, standing between your thighs as you continue to stroke his dick. He fucks you over and over with his fingers, watching you writhe and buck as you near your climax.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You look so beautiful like this, all spread out and ready to come on my fingers. Can’t fuckin’ believe you’re mine, sometimes.” Your pussy tightens around him and he knows you’re about to come.

“Tim…Tim, fuck, I’m - oh, fuck, baby.” He keeps fingering you through the orgasm, sucking on your nipples as he extends the wave of pleasure running through you.

You reach up and undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, hitching up his under vest so you can feel the soft, warm skin of his belly against yours as he pushes himself inside you and begins to fuck you. You hitch up your legs around his waist to hold Tim in place, slipping your hands under his shirt and gripping his broad shoulders firmly as he takes you on his desk.

“Feel good?”

“Fucking incredible, Tim - you?”

He leans his head against your chest and flicks his tongue over your nipple. “Baby, you always feel amazing but this - fuck, this is so fuckin’ good. Feels so tight and wet for me. Listen to that.”

For a moment the only sound in the office is the lewd wetness, skin on skin, and your pants and moans.

“Can’t believe you did this for me, baby,” Tim grunts, speeding up his rhythm and making you whine, arching your back. “Came down here in nothing but lingerie, ready to fuck me…fuck, you’re incredible.”

You giggle a little. “Got lonely at home, my love. Needed to have my man.”

Tim’s faltering rhythm tells you he’s nearly there as he buries himself deeper inside you. “You’ve got him, baby. All yours. All…”

And he’s there, spilling inside you as he collapses on your chest.

***

Cleaned up but still a little dishevelled, you sit on the floor of the office and eat some of the cookies, accompanied by weak coffee.

In the distance, you can hear chimes signalling the hour.

“Hey. It’s midnight. Merry Christmas, Detective Rockford.”

Tim kisses you, tasting of ginger and sugar and spice and all things nice.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs Rockford. And thank you for my extra-special gift.”

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

[stealyourblorbos]

Sweet, tart and very easy... key lime pie from Black Days Headcanons by the wonderful  @something-tofightfor ♡ thank you for the inspiration!

More detective Tim art here and here

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanart #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #merge mansion #Tim Rockford #detective tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x female reader #Fanart #digital painting #fanart by poison

[sin-djarin]

steep is the mountain

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Rating: Explicit. MDNI. This blog and its contents are 18+.

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Tim comes home.

Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f! receiving), Tim Rockford's gun holsters, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n.

A/N: Consider this part of the coming home series that wasn't meant to be a series...like most of my one shots. A massive thank you to @for-a-longlongtime for betaing this for me and for suffering listening to my thots about this guy. Amazing what a whole 48 seconds can do right? Inspo taken from here, but the fic contains NO physical descriptions of reader.

Joel and Dieter come home below:

not in rivers, but in drops ¦¦ in fiction

You pad barefoot down the mahogany staircase, the sound of it barely disrupting the eerie quiet in the house that blankets everything at this late hour. All the downstairs lights are off, except for one that you know you didn’t leave on: the lamp in the corner of the living room. Its glare throws tall shadows on the walls and muting the usual bright colours, and it takes you a moment to blink the sleep out of your eyes before his image comes into sharp focus, his broad body resting comfortably in the plush cream armchair. 

“Tim.”

It takes a second but then he looks up, lowering the newspaper he’s been reading, then smiles as you stride over to him. His small space in that corner of the living room has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place of solace after long shifts at the police station – his own manmade haven for introspection and contemplation.

What started off with a book or two has gradually grown into his own mountainous library of hardbacks during the time you’ve been together, a place where he can swap his reality for someone else’s fiction. And not burden you with his own before coming to bed.

“Sorry, wasn’t tired yet” he looks up as you sit on the edge of the chair, telling you a half truth.

With his tie already off and thrown over the edge table beside him, it’s the local newspaper catches your eye. He brought it in off the porch on Monday and left it sitting on the kitchen table. It’s the one that printed his picture next to the feature that details an especially tricky case, something he’s allowing himself to read only now after four days have passed.

You peeked at it when he left for work. The journalist chose to use words like sloppy and careless. They’re abrasive words - critical, with potential for lasting damage but could never taint your own picture of Tim. Unlike the sheets and its smudging ink, his hard work is seldom black and white. 

“Something on your mind?” you pry. 

Tim pushes his head back into the cushion behind his head and lets out a small sigh.

“No” he assures you after a brief pause, a soft smile playing over his face. The paper slides to the floor as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap to face him. The position makes for easy access to wherever his hands wish to roam over your thighs and hips. 

He is tired. Tim has always been a notoriously bad sleeper, but also a glutton for punishment when he stays up until the early hours of the morning, only allowing himself a few hours of quality sleep. 

This week has been no different, the tell-tale signs of a difficult case splayed out all over his disrupted routine; the short nights, him leaving the house before sunrise and returning to that same darkness late at night.

Shared dinners at the dining table with real conversation are abandoned for leftovers he’ll graze at in the small hours, or the reluctant text he fires off letting you know he’s already eaten at the office. He’ll be able to get more rest once this case is closed, whenever that time may come. 

The unpredictable nature of his cases mean that you nourish yourselves with fleeting moments like this. The movements of your own fingertips try to will away his tension, compliments the tranquil feeling of his body that’s warm and solid underneath you. 

You take the glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them on a small pile of books beside the chair. Your gaze falls from his eyes down to his plump lips, unconsciously making you shift - squirm - in his lap. He hums, pursed lips softening into a smile as his right hand moves to the small of your back, the other one still resting on your hip, both keeping you close against him.

His glance also dips for a moment, down to the worn oversize t-shirt you put on before getting into bed without him. He watches, almost pridefully, that the both of you fit so well together. 

You reach out to touch his brawny forearms, golden skin exposed thanks to the rolled up sleeves of his shirt that are cuffed tightly against the muscles. He carries his stresses there, so your thumbs work the knots that have localized themselves between the tough muscles - the ones that helped him ball his fists up in frustration at his desk.

His jaw slackens as you rub over a large one, just below the hinge of his elbow, and you slowly stroke away the tautness, walking a fine line between pleasure and pain. A deep, appreciative breath escapes from deep within him, the exhale momentarily making the buttons strain down the center of his rigid chest. 

“Did you wait up?” he asks, both hands settling at the base of your spine now, and you drape your arms around his shoulders. 

“I fell asleep for a while,” you tell him as he continues to study you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What?”

Soft palms continue their exploration up your back, until the cool metal of his watch stings your skin, making you involuntarily arch yourself into him until you’re pressed together, chest to chest, your nipples straining under the thinning material of your top as they rub against his pecs. He leans further into you, soft lips meeting the tender skin of your neck to pepper it with light kisses. 

“What did you do tonight?” he wonders, mumbling the words into your skin, the heat of his breath instantly banishing any traces of the goosebumps that threaten to appear from the cool scrape of his watch.

“Self-care,” you answer.

Tim doesn’t need any further clarification; he knows what you mean. His eyebrow arches upwards, interest piqued by the thought of what that meant as his mind conjures up vivid imagery.

A self-care night meant a bath and treating yourself to the luxurious almond body scrub he buys you for your birthday and for Christmas.

Usually, you’d leave him downstairs, engrossed in the pages of one of his books, and by the time he’s closed the cover, you’ve slipped on a pair of your favourite underwear and crawled under the sheets to wait patiently.

Your ear has become tuned to listen out for his footsteps leaving his chair, the bump of his holsters being placed on the table in the hallway, followed by steps getting louder as he climbs the wooden staircase. 

The part you can’t hear is what fascinates you and makes you imagine it every single time: him unbuttoning his white shirt on his way up the stairs, his thick fingers surprisingly quick and efficient.  

On those nights, when he appears around the door, he’s just undone the last button of his white shirt and pulling out the tails of it from his slacks. There will be a glimmer in his eye when he sees you look as good as you feel - the simple act of wearing underwear is for you, not in service of him, though you love the reaction you get from him. 

He'll continue to undress, peeling off his white undershirt, treating you to a view of his strong back and shoulders, admiring how the muscles in his arms flex as he pulls it off with a sigh of relief. The same as when he pushes his slacks down his legs, as you pull your focus to his lower body, over his firm thighs and calves and the coarse hair that will tickle once he’s inevitably nestled alongside you. 

He’ll mold his body around yours, tuck you under his bearded chin and breathe a sigh of ease that regardless of everything, you’re the only piece of the puzzle he’s managed to make fit all day - his self-care. 

“What else?”

His voice pulls you back into the dim room, continuing his gentle inquiries about what you did in his absence. By now he’s swapped kisses for nips of his teeth that he immediately soothes afterwards with his tongue. The prickly graze of his moustache sends a shock of heat to your core and your pulse quickens against his lips.

“I…cooked dinner.”

Coherent thoughts begin to illude you. Speaking in full sentences is made evermore difficult with him clutched against you, marking you with small bites. 

Your fingers weave themselves into the curls that spill over the back of his collar, slowly twisting further into his dark textured hair. As an almost immediate response, his cock stiffens under your leg, still confined to the black  polyester of his slacks, but is now crying out for freedom.

He shifts his pelvis slightly forward to give you something to grind against, knowing that you too are in need. You try not to whimper by the feel of it, by the clear invitation he’s extending to you, and as you press your core against him, there’s no denying the increasing heat between your legs. 

His fingertips move from your back to the top of your thighs, caressing your freshly pampered skin, by the distant look in his eyes you can tell he’s probably lost himself to the idea of you rubbing the scrub on yourself. His thumbs seek out and run over the lace waistband of your underwear while he continues to ravish your neck, and you sigh as you tip your head back, granting him further access. 

“What did you make?” he hums into the column of your throat and his words reverberate down to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.

“I left you a plate.”

“I didn’t eat,” he rasps, and the roguish timbre of his voice collides with his smell leaves feeling hypnotic.

It’s late and you crave more sleep. But the sandalwood scent of his cologne, the same one you watched him dab on his cheeks and around the nape of his neck at six in the morning and the earthy smell of his leather holsters hits your nose.

It combines with the bitter undertone of the coffee that you can always taste or smell on him - it’s all too tempting. The rising heat that’s radiating from him, and the smell of his body stirs something inside you that only wants more from him, now, and any other time.

You tug on his curls and pull his head back, meeting his lips with yours for a kiss, and he moans with pleasure. He wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you urgently, forcing you to drag your nails over his scalp.

Frantic and fiery, it’s far removed from the chaste kiss he said goodbye to you with this morning. Any semblance of the fatigue you picked up on moments ago is now replaced by pure desire. Your hands move down to grip around the holsters that clad his shoulders, hauling him closer against you. You continue to writhe in his lap, desperately chasing any friction his hips are offering. 

Breathlessly, he breaks the kiss, failing to disguise a tiny whimper.

“Stand up.”

You push yourself off him from his shoulders and stand between his legs that are spread wide. The angle of the lamp casts a delicate glow around his broad frame. It’s captivating - you know he’s handsome, but this light highlights the features you've come to love.

Tim bends forward, raking his eyes over your body, and you reach for his hand to pull him up too – another clue, a plea for him to come and join you in bed. But he wilfully ignores it and plants his weight down in refusal before gently shaking your grip loose. He uses his free hand to tug down the underwear from your waist, his swollen lips parting as he watches them fall down around your ankles, a flash of his inviting tongue visible as his eyes narrow in appreciation.

He tilts his head, dark brown eyes darting back to yours. You’ve seen this expression on his face before – a boldness wrapped in a sly charm. A grin starts to spread across his face from one side to the other, punctuated with the dimple in his stubbled cheek. The same one that made the person on the other side of the interrogation table crumble, knowing there’s no escape, in the same manner that it makes you relent – I have you now.

He leans back into the chair, sinking back into the cushions. With two fingers he beckons you towards him and offers you a hand to help you crawl back onto him.

You spread your thighs across his waist again, but his deft palms stop you from applying any real pressure where you sat previously. Instead, he taps the arms of the chair expectantly, then runs his hands from your hips to your knees. 

For a moment you hesitate, unsure as to what exactly he has in mind, but when he signals for you to put a knee on either side of the armchair, you move along with him, holding onto his shoulders for a moment of support. A contented hum leaves his lips, hands brushing up the back of your thighs, guiding you further up his torso until the heat of his mouth is only inches from your now bare pussy. 

“There you go” he soothes. 

The first contact of his wet tongue makes your hips buck involuntarily, and you close your eyes as you try to steady yourself, taking a deep breath. Your fingers clutch at the cushion to steady yourself, and he parts your folds with the flat of his tongue with one painstakingly slow, broad stroke. He repeats the motion again, making your head fall forward as he savours the taste of you pooling into his mouth. Before your eyes clamp themselves shut, you catch his gaze from underneath you - his eyes almost black from his pupils dilating.

He’s meticulous in his movements, making sure that you experience every swipe of his tongue across your clit and every suck as his lips close around it. It’s almost too much when he focuses on your clit - you try to raise yourself off him, to pull away, but his fingers dig deep into the meat of your thighs, holding you in place against his mouth.

Tim is laser focused underneath you, listening for the change of pitch in the moans that tumble from your lips. His hands are occupied, carefully detecting every twitch of the muscles in your legs, as he experiments with varying pressures and laps as you kneel above him. He makes sure he’s getting you where you want to be but evidently enjoying the journey he’s set you both on. 

He pursues it relentlessly. The silence that fell upon the living room earlier is well and truly gone, replaced by the sound of your breath hitching and his own gravelly grunts that vibrate up through you, fanning the flames of the fire that’s building in the pit of your belly.

Before you know it he’s got you on the brink, pushing you ever closer to the edge. He’s stealing your moans for his own pleasure, like confessions he’s tried to force out of people all day, knowing that now, he’ll get what he wants.

A hand leaves your thigh, and two thick digits enter you, hooking them towards your front wall. The delicious stretch and fullness make you lose any remaining composure. Your own fingers coil into the curls at the crown of his head, tugging at the short strands in time to the rhythmic strokes of his fingers.

The practiced combination of his fingers and mouth spark tiny fires throughout all your nerve endings, the heat of them burning your cheeks and begging for the oxygen that your lungs are starved of.

“Give in, love” he purrs, the rich resonance of his words against your flesh so breathtaking that it’s a battle to illicit a cry from your dry throat. 

His command makes it that easy. With one final swirl of his tongue, your walls begin to spasm around his fingers and your heartbeat is hammering against your eardrums as a white heat engulfs your entire body. He holds his tongue flat so you can rock against it to ride out your orgasm for as long as you can, his hands holding onto you for support, making sure you won’t fall and can just enjoy the rush of it coursing through your veins. 

You stay still for a moment, revelling in what he gave you before you slump back down, weary legs struggling to keep your legs spread wide enough to keep yourself perched atop the upholstered armrests. He senses it and wraps his arms around your thighs, easily pulling you back into his lap and to be cradled against him once more. He marvels at you through heavy eyelids, while you try to calm your heart rate that’s still pounding against your ribcage and supply your lungs with oxygen again. 

Resisting him is not an easy feat. The image of your slick glistening on the wiry hairs of his chin stares back at you. His own chest heaves, mirroring your own. Strands of salt and pepper hair stick to his temples, the rest of it awry where you'd anchored yourself. And he’s still painfully hard underneath you. 

Your shaky fingers fumble in and around the silver buckle of his belt, eager to make him feel as good as he made you feel. But before you can pull it free from its first loop, one of his large clammy hands is enough to put an end to the uncoordinated efforts of both of yours. 

He cups your chin with the other hand, tilting your head slightly so you can look at him. Both of you, now nothing more than racing hearts and vacant minds. He pulls his lips back into his mouth to savouring the sweetness you left him before he speaks.   

“It’s okay. I’ll be home early tomorrow,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

(When he knows how to sit in a chair)

#tim rockford fanfic #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #detective tim rockford #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal

[amyleepascal]

Happy National Bakery Day

#pascalispunk #pedropascal #casillero del diablo #the red viper #the last of us #frankie morales #the unbearable weight of massive talent #dieter bravo #strange way of life #detective tim rockford #pedro pascal pie #pedro pascal cupcake

[boliv-jenta]

Tim Rockford x f!reader

Warnings: Smut. Anal sex. Sex work. Blow job.

WC:1.9

The rain battered the old windows of the loft. The wind howled past. The weather had turned around midday. You noticed it somewhere in between finishing up a paper and preparing for his arrival. As it got heavier, you wondered if it would put him off coming. It was doubtful. He was old school, made of sterner stuff. It would take more than a little rain to keep him from an appointment he'd made with you. 

From the conversation you'd had with him, he needed this appointment. Another one of his cases was driving him insane. The answers were just out of his reach and it was maddening. He told you to prepare yourself for him. When you'd ask him specifically how, he just told you for anything. Usually, there was a specific thing he wanted. There was a plan. The man was nothing if not methodical.

Laying in the bed in the middle of the open plan loft, body as ready as it could be, you let the excitement of the mystery burn under your skin. Is this what it felt like for him to solve a case? The mystery, the intrigue? Waiting for the pay off? Glazing at the clock to see that he was late, you recognised his frustration in the things that he wants being just out of reach. 

The minutes ticked by, five minutes turned to half an hour. Half an hour laying naked on your bed, aroused and prepped for him, wondering what he would do to you. The memories of your previous appointments dancing through your head. His hands on your body. His tongue roaming your skin. The scratch of his moustache against your most intimate parts. Your hand moved of its own accord. Two fingers slid inside you with no resistance. A flex of them brushed up against where you needed him to be. His name came out in a moan. As if he was summoned, your buzzer rang. 

As if you'd be caught in a compromising position, you pulled your fingers out quickly. Slightly panicked you pressed the button to let him before returning to the bed to make your presentable for him. He was just a client. He shouldn't have this effect on you. You shouldn't put off changing your sheets after his head was thrown back into your pillow as you rode him, just to have his scent linger just a little longer.

The door opened, his wary footsteps entered, then it closed behind him. A small draft made its way through with him, causing a shiver up your spine. The shiver grew as you watched him getting ready. He shrugged off his dripping rain mac. He hung it up like he was in his own home. Next, he removed his shoes and socks before placing them on the mat inside the door. His badge was then placed on the side. He undid the buttons of his shirt cuffs to roll up his sleeves. When he finally moved to the bed to acknowledge you, he was only wearing his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms. His black slacks, ironed with a perfect crease down the front, and his holster. The holster than fit snuggly to either side of his broad chest and gave you all sorts of wicked ideas.

As he approached you legs had been crossed at your ankles. 

"Spread them for me." He tapped your foot. 

A low gasp left him as you spread your legs wide. He could see you were dripping for him and the jewel between your cheeks showed that you had thoroughly prepared yourself for him. 

"Good girl. All ready for me. Now come and get me ready." He rasped, undoing the button and zip of his slacks. Leaving them open enough for you to see the outline of his erection through his tight boxer briefs. He stood perfectly still, allowing you the illusion of control. Pulling he underwear down you released his thick cock from its confines. The sharp intake of breath at the contact was followed by the release of his restraint. He'd allowed you a brief moment of control, now it would be all his again. He couldn't control what went on out there. He couldn't instantly summon all the answers. Or control the justice system once he found them. In here, he could control you. You would let him willingly. He work all his frustrations out on your beautiful body. He could grip your pump, soft flesh, hold you in place to take his pleasure and you would still ask for more. You gave him everything that he paid for. It was simple. No mystery. No puzzle to unravel. He paid you to use your body and you happily let him. His cock twitched in your hand at the thought of it.

His large hands gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail. 

"Beautiful girl." He breathed looking at you with those warm brown eyes. 

This was as much gentleness as he afforded you. It was the calm before the storm. 

"Put your lips on my dick." He hands gripped your hair tighter guiding you to his throbbing length. 

That sinful deep voice grew even deeper as the warmth of your mouth took him in. "Fuck. Just like that." His hands just gently positioned you at first. His utterances of 'fuck' and the sound of his length sliding over your spit slick lips filled the air. They were soon joined with your choking as he held your head in place to ram his cock into your throat. 

"Oh shit. Good girl. Taking it so well. Fuck, take my cum too. Take it, ta…" his groan reverberated in your own chest as he spilled his warm release down your throat. He shuddered as you swallowed around him.

When he finally pulled out, you lay back to catch your breath. "I'm not paying you to lay down." A sting bloomed across your chest as he swotted your right breast. He roughly massaged it away before leaning down to seal his hot mouth over your nipple. A harsh suck sent a fresh wave of arousal gushing between your legs. Another one proved too much as you instinctively pushed at his face, only for him to grab your hand. Lifting his head off you he brought your hand to his face. His eyebrow arched as he sniffed it before sinking two of your fingers into his mouth. 

"You touched yourself." There was no question in his tone.

"I…" you began.

"I asked you to prepare yourself, to get yourself nice and wet so I don't have to waste my time doing it. So I can just come in and wet my cock." His hand wrapped around your jaw pinching slightly at you cheeks. "But this is all mine." He drew his fingers through your slick. "Every drop is mine to taste. You greedy little whore. You couldn't even wait for me…"

"You were late…" it came out before you could stop it.

The world spun as he forced you down face first on the bed. An odd moment of comfort came from the softness and the fresh scent of the sheets. It was lost as he dragged you to the bottom of the bed by your hips. 

"Show me what you were doing." He tugged your ass up into the air. When you didn't move fast enough, he cracked his palm against your ass cheek.

Steadily yourself, you managed to slip those two fingers back inside. 

"So desperate to be filled, hmm?" His fingers trailed down your spine until he reached the butt plug. A gentle pull and it came away, your muscles clenched, searching for it. It was quickly replaced by the head of his cock. Your muscles eagerly accepted him. He stretched you so slowly and fully you completely forgot about your own movements.

"I didn't say your could fucking stop." He drew his hips back, slamming inside you. The suddenness of it made you whine. The stretch of him coupled with the pleasure was near debilitating. Heeding his warning you picked up your movements again. The man could take you apart with the same precision as he picked apart a case. It didn't take long for you to feel your climax coming.

"Don't you dare…" he warned as he felt your walls tightening. 

"Please." Your voice shuddered out with the force of each thrust. Thrusts that stopped for a moment as he shifted behind you. 

Something slipped over your head, when it came to rest against your bare neck you felt it was some sort of strap. Self preservation made panic flare inside you. 

"It's just to keep you in line. You act like a bitch, I'll put you on a leash. Now, don't you dare come." He tugged the strap around your neck just enough to apply pressure.

He resumed pounding into you. "Keep going." He reminded you to keep working your fingers in and out of you. There was no way you could keep it up with the way he was fucking you roughly.

"I can't…I can't." The strap tightening around your neck drew your back flush to his chest. His thrusts slowed to a grind as he wrenched your hand out from between your legs. Pulling it up to his lips, he sunk your fingers into the heat of his mouth. His tongue rolled around your digits while his fingers rolled around your clit. His other hand joined in, spreading you so he could strum your clit faster. The 'leash' that he'd been holding dropped onto your chest. He used that damn shoulder holster. As he forced you closer to coming he began to pump himself inside you. Once you collapse near boneless, he fucked you into the mattress and filled your ass until he dripped out of you. 

"Fuck. Do you like being full of me?" He growled as he slowly pumped the last of his release deep into you.

"I love it. I love…" you were interrupted by Tim groaning as he spread your cheeks to see what he had done to you.

"Of course you do." He finally started to strip out of his clothes. Before he took off his slacks he fished his wallet out and placed a couple of hundred dollar bills on the nightstand.

"You need to throw another hundred on there." You sighed as you stretched out.

"Another hundred?!" His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"Cumming in my ass cost extra." You shot at him.

"You loved it." He laughed dropping on the bed next to you.

"It doesn't matter. You still have to pay."

"How I am going to explain that to my wife?"

"Tell her that you gave it to a struggling student to treat herself with."

"That might actually work. She's a student herself."

"Really? What does she study?"

"I have no idea. She's so sexy, I get distracted sometimes when she talks." He climbed onto the bed next to you, peppering kisses on your bare shoulder.

"Really? Did you get distracted when she told you you need to help her clear the attic out next weekend?"

"I must have."

"You heard 'Rent an Airbnb for the weekend so we can fulfil your sex worker fantasy' well enough."

"Every word, Honey."

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #tim rockford x f!reader #detective tim rockford #tim rockford smut

[morallyinept]

Every Pedro character and every single line they say.*

Exactly what it says on the tin! A list of every Pedro character and their full dialogue/lines. I'm putting this together, mostly as a writing source.

Sometimes, referring to an original character's dialogue can help when trying to write for them. For example, you can see patterns in their speech, words they favour to use over again etc... So, I hope this proves useful for anyone writing for Pedro's Characters. Or if you just want to simply read the dialogue for fun.

☝🏻This will be updated regularly, and when new characters are added to Pedro's portfolio of works.

*List does not include certain adverts, skits, voiceovers, guest appearances on shows/SNL, or table/script readings.

Please see below for all the Pedro characters in TV, podcasts and film. Translations included.

Enjoy! 🖤

Buy me a Ko-fi ☕️ If you like my work and enjoy what I put out there, you have the option of buying me a Ko-fi, if you'd like to. It's never expected, but always greatly appreciated. 🖤

In alphabetical order:

TV & FILM:

Billy - Iris

Clint - Freaky Tales

David - Window Shopping

David Portillo - Homeland ALL EPISODES

Dave York - The Equalizer 2

Dieter Bravo - The Bubble

Din Djarin - The Mandalorian ALL EPISODES & THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT EPISODES

Ed Indelicato, Detective - Wonder Woman UNAIRED

Eddie The Freshman - Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Ezra - Prospect

Francisco 'Catfish' Morales - Triple Frontier

Frederick Mercer - Charlie's Angels UNAIRED

Goth Guy - Earth vs. The Spider MINIMAL LINES

Greer, Special Agent - L&O SUV

Greg - Undressed

Gregor New - Good vs. Evil

Jack Daniels, Agent Whiskey - Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Jay Castillo - Red Widow ALL EPISODES

Javier Gutierrez - The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent

Javier Peña - Narcos ALL EPISODES

Joel Miller - The Last Of Us ALL EPISODES

Juan Badillo, Agent - Graceland ALL EPISODES

Kyle Hartley - CSI

Kyle Wilson - Without A Trace

Liam - Nikita

Lucien Flores - The Univited

Marcus Moreno - We Can Be Heroes

Marcus Pike - The Mentalist ALL EPISODES

Maxwell Lord - Wonder Woman 1984

Max Phillips - Bloodsucking Bastards

Nathan Landry - The Good Wife ALL EPISODES

Nico - House Comes With A Bird

Noah - I Am That Girl

Oberyn Martell - Game Of Thrones ALL EPISODES

Omar Assarian - Lights Out

Ortega, Special Agent - The Sixth Gun UNAIRED

Oscar Castro Varga - Exposed UNAIRED

Paul, Maître'D - The Adjustment Bureau MINIMAL LINES

Paulino - Sweet Little Lies

Pedro Across The Street - Calls

Pero Tovar - The Great Wall

Pietro Alvarez - If Beale Street Could Talk

Reggie Luckman - L&O Criminal Intent

Ricky Hauk - Touched By An Angel

Santos - Drive Away Dolls TBR

Shane 'Dio' Morrissey - NYPD Blue

Silva - Strange Way Of Life

Steve - Hermanas

The Thief - Casillero Del Diablo Wines ALL COMMERCIALS

Steve - Nurse Jackie

Ted Garcia - Eddington

Tim Rockford, Detective - Merge Mansion ALL COMMERCIALS

Tito Cabassa - L&O

Veracruz, Comandante - Burn Notice: The Fall Of Sam Axe

Zach Goffman - Body Of Proof

Zach Wellison - Brothers & Sisters

PODCASTS:

Dan Landry - Motherhacker

AWAITING CONFIRMATION OF ROLE:

Materialists - Character TBC

Gladiator 2 - Character TBC

☝🏻New characters will be added as and when new projects are released.

If I've missed any, or there is one you would specifically want to see, please let me know. 🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #din djarin #javier pena #dieter bravo #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #javier gutierrez #ezra prospect #max phillips #maxwell lord #pero tovar #dave york #agent whiskey #detective tim rockford

[trulybetty]

dec' x 25 x family

Prompt: family Pairing: tim x reader Word Count: 1,245 Warnings: family christmas dinners, interfering family, talk about children, one cute baby and Tim making my ovaries explode, just fluff. Summary: Your second annual Christmas dinner with the Rockfords. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

“Wait! Nell, where are you going?”

Tim’s sister brushed him off, already across the room as she gave him reassurance, “You’ll be fine Tim, I’ll be right back!”

Before Tim could protest any further his sister was gone and out of the room and he swore she didn’t even look back. Sighing he looked down at his tiny niece, Emma. Barely three months old, her matching deep brown eyes to his looking back at him as she sucked away at her pacifier.

You stood at the threshold of the living room, a smile tugging at your lips. It was your second christmas with the Rockford family. Last year had been about you getting acquainted with his family after the two of you had been dating for a good year and a half. This year was a little different, you were now officially a member of the family as decreed by Tim’s father, and to top things off, the arrival of the newest member of the family, baby Emma. 

As usual, Tim’s parents' house was decked out in festive decor, including the tree twinkling in the corner with an obscene amount of presents piled beneath it. The air was thick with the smell of not one but two turkeys still being cooked. A testament to the number of family members that filled the house.

Tim shot you a look that was part exasperation and half a plea for help.

“Uncle Tim’s got the magic touch, huh?” you teased.

“She won’t settle for anyone else,” he said, his voice a mix of both resignation and pride. “Nell is convinced I’m a baby whisperer.”

You moved closer, smiling down at the tiny baby and reaching out gently to adjust the little cap that adorned her head, “Maybe you are.”

“You’re not too overwhelmed, are you?” Tim asked, concern flickering in his eyes. “I know my family can be a lot to handle.”

“Are you kidding?” you responded with a chuckle. “This is great, your family is a hoot.”

“You say this now.”

“Tim, if I didn’t go running when your Uncle Tom cornered me last year with his long-winded conspiracy theories, I think I can handle anything your family throws at me.”

Tim relaxed a little and you moved even closer, your arm brushing against his. He leaned into you, the two of you watching Emma sleep. 

“Do you ever think about changing your mind? About kids, I mean,” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You took a sip of your wine giving him a side glance, “Nope, I’m still good.”

“You sure?” he asked, a playful eyebrow cocked as if this hadn’t been a topic of discussion the two of you hadn’t already agreed on multiple times.

Looking down at Tim’s niece you felt your heart flutter in warmth at the sight of the child who you had already been referred to multiple times as aunt to, but it stirred no maternal need for one of your own.

“I’m good,” you smiled, “she is lovely though.”

Tim's gaze softened as he looked down at his niece. “Yeah, she is,” he admitted. 

Tim’s parents, true to their traditional roots, had always spoken fondly of grandkids if either of their children chose to have them. The arrival of Tim’s niece had been a highlight of their year, and the joy was palpable in the household across the extended family. 

“Cagney, dear,” Tim’s aunt Shirley called out from the dining room, his family had quickly adopted his nickname for you much to your amusement. “When will we see you with one of these?”

You glanced at Tim, who was already preparing his ‘let’s not start this conversation’ face. You squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and before you could open your mouth, Tim’s mother, Maggie, walked in from the kitchen.

“Shirley,” she chided, “leave them be, not everyone needs to have kids,” she ushered her sister to follow her back to the kitchen, “anyway, aren’t your kids taking care of it enough for the rest of us? What is it now, six grandkids? I’ve lost count.”

“Seven,” Shirley exclaimed, “and number eight on the way!”

Maggie rolled her eyes behind her sister's back at you and Tim, both of you staving off a laugh as she led her sister out of the room, the two of them bickering as they went.

Around you, the house was filled with the sounds of a close family Christmas. The chatter of distant relatives in the dining room discussing the latest football scores, the clink of cutlery as the table was being set, and above it all, the faint strains of holiday music playing in the background.

You looked around at the photographs on the mantelpiece, snapshots of Tim's life before you. There was one of him in his police academy uniform, young and perhaps a bit naive about what the future held for him.

Tim’s previous marriage was a topic rarely broached. It was a closed and sealed chapter. He had been fresh and naive out of the police academy he’d told you, late one night as the two of you laid in the quiet of what had once been his home, now your home too. The marriage had dissolved as quickly as it had begun—his workload was too much, and they wanted different things, soon realizing they both had incompatible dreams for their future. It wasn't the right match no matter how hard he tried to make it work. 

But with you, it was different. You complemented each other, your strengths and weaknesses meshing in a way that felt effortless. A silent understanding of each other's needs, and a mutual respect for the lives you'd chosen to lead. 

You turned back to Tim, only to find him watching you, his gaze lingering on your face with an affection that didn’t need words. The baby, who decided the only place to settle now was laid across Tim’s forearm, her head in the palm of his large hand tucked against his chest, had dozed off. Her little chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Before anything could be said, shouts from the dining room confirmed that the food was ready.

As dinner was being served, it became clear that Tim's niece was not going to allow herself to be put down, or taken from her uncle's arms. Nell, already overwhelmed and upset that her husband was at work—a paramedic and couldn't get out of the holiday shift—had looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Go eat,” Tim told her gently, a softness in his eyes that you knew he reserved for the few he cared deeply about. “I've got her. We'll be fine.”

His sister gave him a grateful smile before taking a seat at the table. Tim adjusted the baby in his arms, as you pulled out your chair next to him with your foot, a plate of food in each hand for the both of you.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of food, laughter, and the occasional group ‘aw’ when Emma would stretch and yawn. Insisting Tim sit and enjoy the company of his family, knowing how much he missed it with his work scheduled, you helped where you could, bringing dishes from the table, pouring wine, washing dishes and sharing in the toasts. 

Then every so often you’d catch Tim’s eye from across the room, him giving you a wink, a private moment amidst the chaos.

#december x 500 #tim x cagney #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[wardenparker]

Connie!! Happy 2.5k, congratulations ❤️❤️ you deserve all of them and more darling!

Can I get our new man Tim Rockford with "you brought me flowers?"

Tim Rockford 286 words Fluff

“I don’t understand.” Standing on the threshold of your little house, you can feel the furrow in your forehead becomes more and more pronounced. You were just locking your door and straightening your jacket to head out to meeting Tim for dinner, but here he is: bouquet in hand and more dressed up thank you’ve seen him outside of a courtroom or family wedding in years. “You brought me flowers?”

“It’s— yeah. I mean— that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?” He swallows hard and takes in the little floral sundress you’re wearing. You always look so damn— “Gorgeous”. He says it out loud and the word almost makes him choke. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks…” For all the years you’ve known Tim, he’s never been nervous like this. Maybe his wedding day? Although he was right to be nervous – he should have called the whole thing off. Tracy was a nightmare. You had sat in the church and kept your mouth shut, hoping you were wrong and that your best friend – the man you had been in love with half your life – would actually be happy.

He had not been.

“I did this wrong, didn’t I?” He sighs, raking one hand through his dark hair.

“Did what?” You shake your head at him in confusion. As far as you knew you were just meeting him at the bar for burgers. Have dinner with me tonight was the request he had made when he called you this morning, and you had easily agreed. But apparently it wasn’t as easy for him at all.

Tim groans, a pitiful pout gracing his handsome face. “If you don’t even know I asked you out, then I definitely did it wrong.”

It’s a follower celebration microfic giveaway!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Detective Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #follower celebration #2.5k followers #follower milestone #microfic

[popcornforone]

Christmas Wish

A Tim Rockford fan fic

I got in from the cinema tonight at about 10:30 watches a bit of tv & then went on tiktok & then couldn’t sleep. It’s now 2am & a small idea I had I’ve now almost completed a first draft of. & I think you will get the finished product soon. See this is why I have lots of fics in draft. Because bang I will get a new idea & then I’ll just write. Also I can’t believe I’m writing Tim again. Send help (but please don’t)

Synopsis: your taking your kids to see Santa but your husband isn’t sure he will make it on time. But a Santas wish box might make all your dreams come true.

Word count:3800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF TOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, breeding kink, pregnancy, swearing. Previous sexual encounters & fantasies mentioned. Husband & wife, swearing. Mentions of alcohol, teasing, crime is mentioned but not in detail, bedroom voice, Tim likes to be incontrol but he’s not a dom. cock warming, intense sex.

Thanks as always for reading peoples. All feedback is welcome.

3 rings, he always answers exactly after 3 rings no matter who it is. Today is no different.

“Detective Rockford” he answers professionally.

“Tim?” He turns red straight away & starts mouthing to the two other officers in the room with him working the case. He’s saying it’s you & it’s a family emergency.

“Ahhh hang on” he scurries out of the room & into his office down the corridor closing the door behind him. “Sorry still working the case, we’ve almost made a break through.” He says as he rubs his hand across his forehead. He always tried to think like the criminal to catch them & this case has pushed him a little. He’s often got home late exhausted & full of concern that that longer this person is on the loose, the harder it will be to find them.

“That’s not the only thing that needs to be considered” you say. He can hear babbling going on in the back ground. He’s worked out it’s your 5 year old & 2 year old. “How much later are you going to be tonight Tim?” You sound exasperated.

“Maybe an hour, so close, we’re so so close,” he then pauses “wait… I’m missing something, arent I?” He says. You falling silent down the other end of the phone confirms this. “Fuck! What am I missing?” His eyes scrunch up in anger, that he’s got caught up in his work once again. You knew being Mrs Rockford would come with moments like this, but recently it’s becoming more frequent.

“It’s 5pm at the moment, we are meant to all be meeting Santa at the North Pole Grotto at 6:30pm” you say calmly down the phone. You know annoying him by going I told you to set a reminder when you booked it 2 months ago, will piss him off. “I understand though Tim, this is a huge case. It will make our town safe. I can call them up & push it to next week if I do it in the…” Tim then hears your 5 year old son start singing jingle bells in the back ground. He knows he’s probably in his light up raindeer jumper & is so excited to see Santa tonight.

“No, you have to go. I’ll try & get there. I’m sure I’ve got the address, I’ll do my best”

“Tim I can…”

“No I can hear Jason singing in the background, don’t break his heart, I’ll make it up to him & Grace & you, especially you.” He looks at his watch. He can do this. He’s then disturbed as someone taps on the glass of his door. “Baby I gotta go, but promise me you’ll take the kids okay, even if I have to then come back to work, I’ll do my best”

“Tim I…”

“Promise me” he used his moody interrogation voice. That’s how you met. You had been a witness to a crime & he talked to you at the police station. He got no new clues out of you, but you left your number in case he needed to ask you anything else. 3 weeks later, you were handcuffed to his bed, screaming Tim’s name as he licked every inch of your pussy. His face glistening as he told you how good you tasted before he ravaged you for the next 2 days. Even detective Rockford through a sicky to pleasure his new girlfriend. That was almost 8 years ago. You knew what you were getting yourself into by having a relationship with someone like him, both work wise & sexually.

“Okay detective” you say & then sigh. He doesn’t even say bye down the phone, clearly somethings come up. You say to the beeping cancel tone “I love you baby” before Jason starts jumping about to the next Christmas song.

*

You are sat in the ‘north pole’ bouncing Grace on your lap who looks adorable in her snowman outfit. Jason is busy saying exactly what he wants Santa to get him.

“A rocket ship, lego, slime, chocolate, more chocolate…” the list keeps going.

“Yea Jason. Santa will see us in a second. He’s got lots of people to see. I think you just need to pick 3 items for today.” You say & he sits down next to you.

“What do you want for Christmas Mummy?” He asks. You had no idea your son was so thoughtful. The look on his face is genuine. He really wants to know.

“For you & your sister to have the best Christmas” you say & wrap your arms around him. His hug is pure love, the only kind of love a 5 year old can give.

“Oooh im not sure I can wrap that up, what can I actually get you?” Jason hugs you. You know what you really want but you know Jason can’t get it for you. You go to answer with something trivial, but your then interupted by a teenager dressed as an Elf.

“The Rockfords?” You stand up & go to speak.

“Yep that’s us” an echoing voice comes from down the corridor. Tim is lightly jogging your way & the beam on your face can’t be denied.

“Daddy!” Tim scopes Jason up into his arms.

“Hey sport” he gives his boy a big kiss & ruffles Graces hair as she’s almost asleep on you. “Couldn’t miss this for the world” he kisses your cheek & you turn as red as a robins breast. Tim is still in his full detective gear. Holsters & everything. It’s giving you flash backs to some previous role play. He’s previously just left his tie & the holsters on while he’s fucked you & fake interrogated you in bed. The last time he did it, he growled just before his point of climax are you on birth control, you screamed no. You didn’t know Tim had a breeding kink until that moment as he went oh we’re gonna make this stick then. He fucked you all night, even when you woke up in the morning. He was late for work that’s day & you walked slowly for a week. The man delivered though, 9 months later Grace was born.

“I’m glad you made it baby” you say to him as you enter the first room & you are both offered a mince pie. Tim bites into his & his face lights up even more.

“Oooh this tastes good, I haven’t eaten since breakfast” he says & after you’ve had a small bite of yours, you offer it to him. There’s no point rolling your eyes at Tim not eating, his job means he sometimes doesn’t stop for hours. “Thanks beautiful” he says.

You’re then asked if you’d all like to stand infront of a fake fire for a family photo. Usually Tim hates this but he sees Jason get ready to pose & smile.

“Oooh absolutely” a few sensible & also funny family photos are taken in front of the fire & you know by the time you are done with Santa, you will have the jpegs emailed across to print off at home. Tim smiles genuinely in every single photograph. It makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. Those eyes that made you fall for him, dazing in the fake fire light. So warm cozy & loving much like his hugs on a cold winters night. He sees you look & looks back into your own soft blue eyes. “Hello you” he whispers. He can see the love reflecting back to him. His hand slowly fits in yours. So large but soft. The way his thumb goes across your knuckles to start with arouses you.

“Are you all ready to meet Santa?” the elf says, bring you both back to reality.

“Yes” Jason shouts. You & Tim both nod. You’re just happy to see Tim enjoying a family moment & forgetting about work stress.

“Well let’s go” The elf lifts up the icicle beaded curtain & Jason bounds in & you & then Tim follow.

There sits Santa. On his big red chair. A large tree, 3 large sacks of gifts & a few toys on the floor. It’s in a cabin setting. Jason doesn’t move, hes star struck.

“Go on Jason” you say & he then grabs Tim’s leg feeling a little shy.

“Hohoho is that Jason Rockford?” Santa asks in his deep voice. Jason nods, but still hangs onto daddy. “& that then must be mummy & daddy & is that your little sister Grace?” He asks, rubbing his belly. His beard is magnificently white & the suit is cherry red. You knew there was a reason why people booked up this Santa experience.

“How do you know my sisters name?” Jason asks suspiciously.

“It’s my job to know everyone’s name” Santa laughs “especially those on the nice list” Jason still hasn’t budged from Tim. Tim then gets down to his knees & looks at his son.

“Come on Jason, it’s only Santa, he wants to talk to you” he gestures. Jason still says nothing, not moving, standing firm. “Didn’t you want to tell him what was on your Christmas list, you told mummy earlier didn’t you.” Jason then shakes his head. Seeing Santa might have been what he’s wanted for the last 3 weeks but a 5 year old can’t process all those emotions. “Then tell me, tell daddy.”

“Chocolate” Jason says quietly.

“Sorry sport, speak up I missed that”

“More chocolate”

“Oooh chocolate I love chocolate” Santa Ho Ho Hos again & leans into a box,” i like Milky Way”

“That’s my fave too” Jason turns his head & he sees Santa holding one. In a flash Jason is no longer star struck or shy. He is on Santas knee, telling him about his gifts he’s like & what he thinks Grace wants & the elf’s take photos.

“He’s forward like his mum” Tim whispers in your ear as you hand Grace over for the kids to have their own Santa photo.

“& shy to start with like his dad, but then once your out of the shell” you smile at him.

“Thought you like me being outgoing and adventurous” Tim says. He then does that thing with his hand, the way he rubs it around his neck always has you pining, you have no idea why, it just does.

“I want any version of you my love” you then see Santa start to wrap it up the fun.

“Now here’s a small gift” he starts & he hands one to Jason & one to you for Grace as Tim picks her up.” To keep you going until Christmas night okay”

“Wow really, thanks Santa” Jason hugs him & we thank him too.

“Don’t forget to put your Christmas wishes in the box on your way out. Ho Ho Ho & Merry Christmas” he says & your family leave the room.

You look at the wish box & get Jason to write his down & you do one for Grace. But then you see Tim with a piece of paper.

“Baby what are you…”

“You need to do one too” he says as take a photo of his before he drops his in the box “otherwise your Christmas wish won’t come true” you smile & do the same.

“Okay Tim” after dropping your wish into the box, you leave as a family & Tim helps you get the kids in the car, once you get to the car park.

“Are you coming home” you ask being hopeful.

“No I’m not, I have to go back, I’ve got a murderer interview to conduct.”

“You found them”you say excitedly.

“Yes, the team left to arrest him while I’ve been here, but I promise to not be too late okay” you can tell by the looks of it in his eyes that he wants to do nothing more than follow you & the kids home right now. Both will be sound asleep before he gets home tonight, there’s even a chance you might be.

“It’s okay baby, I get It” you smile & go to open your car door but he blocks you getting into it. Your eyes connect & the kiss Tim gives is sweet & soft & your gloved hands graze his beard. You don’t want this kiss to end. He looks full of both sorrow & love as the kiss breaks.

“I love you” Tim says & he traces his thumb across your lips & leaves you standing by the car as he walks off to go get in his.

*

Christmas Day madness has happened & you get into bed in your new pink fleece snoopy pyjamas that you got for Christmas. The clean up can start tomorrow. Your parents have agreed to get up if the kids are an issue tonight. In walks Tim into the bedroom in his dark blue pinstripe Pyjamas & he gets under the duvet with you & kisses your cheek.

“I’ve got 1 more Christmas gift for you baby & I think you have one for me”he says with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Tim you know that we were always going to have…”

“No no nope, im not talking about sex” he says & he grabs his phone. “I want to show you what my Christmas wish was that I asked Santa for.” Your eyes dilate. You’d forgotten you did that on the evening you met Santa but now you’re excited to see what his was & to share yours.

“Really Tim?” You say excitedly & move close to him under the duvet. Your hand goes for his groin automatically, you know full well that sex is also on the cards, as you slip your hand beneath his bottoms. He lets out a small deep moan & you’re not just hot due to your new fluffy sleep wear. You want your husband, & he wants his wife.

“Y…ye…oooh yes” he says. You’re not sure if that’s a reaponse to sharing or your hand working his length or both, but the way his eyebrows twitch & the more breathing he does you think it’s more from arousal. He then grabs your hand & takes it away. “I don’t want to cum already” he mumbles & pulls you in so your head rests on his top. Such a firm chest & the broadest shoulders tower above you.

He scrolls through his photos.

“Your not worried you wish won’t come true baby”

“Ooh sweetheart” Tim kisses your forehead “it’s Christmas it’s a time for miracles” he says cockily.

“Did you just try & be Hans Gruber?” You ask & you both giggle.

“Guilty as charged” he says & then he flips his phone around & you look at what he wrote on the piece of paper. Your eyes well up.

For my families love & understanding everyday, not just at Christmas.

Your arms fling around his neck & you kiss him hard. So deep so passionate so intense.

“You’ve always had that Tim”

“I know, I just sometimes take it for granted” the way his hand strokes your hair sends a sensation down your spine. His lips are soft as the keep making contact with yours.

“Do you…”

“After this” he moans as he reaches the hem of your fleece top, always a man who knows what he wants. A man who gets results. He might not be in his detective gear right now, but it wasn’t the detective fantasy you fell in love with 8 years ago. It was those big eyes, that smoulder, the messy hair, the deep sexual voice, those large hands that make your body do extraordinary things. You love Tim Rockford, he never had to be a detective to get you in bed, although now that is sometimes useful.

Your pyjamas are off before his & he kisses your tummy. Your stretch marks always get the first kisses just before he slips inside you. You still don’t like them & always gasp when he kisses them.

“There’s nothing sexier than these baby, they made the two best things in my life, be proud” his top has gone & his bottoms follow quickly. His long length dripping already. You’re so aroused that you know you won’t need lube tonight. The way his hands caress your hips as he goes between your legs. You feel the tip tease your clit & the moan you let out has Tim licking his lip.”okay maybe that noise is, make that noise again” he breaches you. He’s not fully in but it has you hand clutching the pillow. He always makes you stretch. He likes to go in slowly & sensually. You oblige & moan again. “That’s my good girl, you’re on my nice list” the next rock he’s almost fully inside. You’re already clamping around him. He feels so good.

“a nice list?” You stutter.

“Yes” the next thrust he’s completely inside you & you cry his name. “You are such a good girl except when it comes to sex, then your naughty but you do that to make me happy” he raises his eyebrows as his next thrusts hits the soft spot. The one that makes you see starts. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over as he slowly rocks into you & your body responds enjoying each movement. Your eyes open after an extraordinary kiss. He feels even deeper inside you tonight. You’re extra sensitive to each graze inside your core.

He lowers himself so he’s all but lying on top of you. Just hoovering slightly. His hands grab either side of the pillow by your head. You lift your hands up & hold his face, & look directly into his eyes. The sweat glistening off his head. His body moving in a rhythm that’s unmatched. It makes you purr.

“Baby”

“Oooh baby”

It’s intense staring into each others eyes. The way he works his hips. Your friction against him has you whimpering.

“Ooooh yes yes yes yes don’t stop, keep going oooh fuck” your heart races.

“Oooh you like that, fuck you do” those massive brown eyes are the largest you’ve ever seen. He’s lost in his lust & desire for you. That turns you on even more.

“Tim oh Tim. Yes Tim”

“You take me so well baby” one of the hands stops gripping the pillow & lightly goes around your neck. Each thrust deep. It hits the spot without fail. You feel extraordinarily sexy as his grinds his teeth. The beads of sweat drip onto your chest.

“Keep going im so close” you just about get the words out. His grip tightens & you start gasping & he is pulsing. You’re sure the bed is creaking. You’re hoping no one can hear your collective moans.

“You wanna cum?” Tim growls as his other hand tugs at your hair. “Do you think you’ve earnt it? Do you want to drench me? Make me spill inside you?” you love it when he gets in the zone & starts using his menacing voice. Criminals cave in for this tone but you squirt when he gets it right. What brings nightmares for others makes you orgasm.

“Ye yea…. Yess”

“If I cum your gonna keep me warm, your going to sleep all night with my hard throbbing cock buried inside you. We’re gonna stimulate you so you stay wet & I stay hard. You’re gonna be cock drunk when you wake up on Boxing Day, my naughty wife.” You hear these words escape Tim’s mouth but they don’t make sense. You’ve lost all cognitive thoughts. Your about to scream so that everyone knows your husband has satisfied you. “Cum baby, cum for your hubby”

The way you scream Tim’s name is deep & low, because you are almost speechless. You gush & drench his length as he keeps going inside you. Even if you weren’t speechless, nothing could describe what you’re experiencing right now.

“Yes baby, that’s my girl, oooh fuck oooh god oooh yesssss” Tim screams. His hand squeezes once more around your neck, his sperm flows inside you, filling you up. His body also juddering, from the extreme pleasure. He sharply let’s go of your neck & you gasp for as much air as you can in 3 seconds before your mouth is occupied with his. Your bodies roll you both out of your highs, slow rocks to calm you down. His hands are in your hair & on your breasts. Yours are also in his hair & stroking that small little patch he has in his beard, your favourite place for cheeky kisses. Eventually your bodies do stop rocking & your collective panting goes quiet. There is a squelching noice from his penis still semi hard inside your.

“Baby” you eventually say & flutter your eyes open.

“Ooh baby in deed” he goes to roll off you & then remembers his promise. You moan slightly as he withdraws but he is swiftly back inside you semi hard, being your big spoon. Even like this he feels good inside you. Cock warming is often something you do as you fall asleep after sex.

“Was that the best Christmas gift?”Tim whispers.

“Well it’s either that or the watch?” You giggle as he moves your hair to the side to kiss your neck. Such small soft little pecks.

“See we can make everyone’s Christmas wish come true” he says. “Hang on you never showed me what you asked santa for”

“Did I not?”

“No we got so into the moment after my reveal that we forgot”

“Hmmm”you reach your arm out & grab your phone. A smile comes across your face. “Promise to not over react?” You say with a little snigger.

“Baby what could…” Tim then looks & the photo on the phone startled. He takes it from you & stares at it. He then throws it down the end of the bed. His hands trail down your body as harder kisses fill your neck & cheek. “Seriously?” You nod “but today? How?” He’s really shocked.

“I was in charge” you smile & turn your head around so his lips can find yours.

“My cleaver girl”

You slowly both nod off to sleep exhausted, his cock still inside you, the kisses eventually stop. His hand also stops rubbing his most favourite place of all. Eventually your phone screen turns off. Your wish was always going to be true.

For Jason & Grace to love their new sibling, who should be here come August.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #over18 #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fandom #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfic #detective tim rockford #tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction

[ninebluehearts]

Your Hero

Prompt: Can I request Nurse Reader x Tim Rockford where he saves her life from a shootout and gets shot, she takes him home and patches him up, can be fluff or smut, whatever you wish <3 ily!!  

A/n: Sure thing honey!! Thank you so much for this request! Ilyt!! <3

Warnings: Blood, gunshot wound, mentions of a toxic relationship.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

“Damn, aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” Tim asked, groaning in pain as he laughed at his own joke, hobbling over towards your couch.

You roll your eyes, leaving his side long enough to rush to the bathroom to grab the med kit you kept in the closet. It looked like one of those old books you’ve seen in the movies, a layer of dust covering the top of the box, easily falling from the plastic with a simple blow of your breath. 

You wrinkled your nose as you walked back into your living room, trying to ignore the tickle of dust in your nostrils. “Alright. I’ve got a numbing spray in here somewhere, but I don’t think it’ll work too well for something this bad.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got a high pain tolerance, right doc?”

“Technically I’m not a doctor, but yes, that helps.” You’ve been rushing around trying to sterilize your hands and tools that when you finally took a second to look up, you were met with a sight that you’ve seen a million times before, but for some reason, this time you just had to stop and look. 

Tim sat on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest, legs spread open in front of him, his strong thighs exposed now that his pants were bunched up in a ball beside him, as though he were desperate to get them off and out of the way. And considering the fact that there was a hole in the side of his thigh, anyone would be.

You shook your head, hoping you could shake the dirty thoughts from your mind. Sliding on a pair of rubber gloves, you kneeled down before him as you opened a small packet that had a disinfectant wipe inside. “This may sting.” 

Tim didn’t really move when you began to clean the area, his hands gripping the edge of the nearest throw pillow being the only indicator that he was in pain. 

As you fell into the flow of caring for your patient, your hands seemed to fall into autopilot for you, leaving your brain to run wild with thoughts of the night. How could you have been so reckless?

You just needed eggs. 

You figured you’d walk in, grab the eggs, pay, and then you’d be done, free to go home and go to bed after a long day. You had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, still covered in way too many bodily fluids and such to identify at the moment. 

You were so close to being done, proudly hugging a carton full of a dozen eggs against your chest as you stood in the checkout line. You wanted to scream when you heard your name being called from behind you, the familiar voice of your ex already igniting the ball of rage in your belly. 

You decided to ignore him, handing the cashier the carton when it was your turn. You handed her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change so you could be out of there faster. 

Your ex was hot on your tracks as you hurried out of the building, ignoring his calls. It was a messy, but simple break-up. He cheated on you, and you left his sorry ass. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Baby, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry, huh? Come on, you’re being ridiculous!” Tired of your silence, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, making you turn to face him, pure rage and exhaustion etched all over your face.

“Carl, if you don’t let me go right now, I swear to God I will scream.” You gritted out between your clenched teeth, your hands tightening into fists.

Carl only tightened his grip, his expression twisting into something sour. “Jesus Christ you’re so dramatic. Just listen to-” But you didn’t even give him the chance to finish, letting out a high-pitched scream as you looked him dead in his eyes. 

He yelled at you to stop, but you refused, ignoring the judgmental looks you received from the surrounding strangers. 

“Is there a problem?” A man asked as he made his way over to the both of you, flashing his badge to show that he was an officer. 

You immediately stopped screaming, clearing your throat to try and ease the slight sting of your now irritated throat. “Yes, there is, officer. Please get this asshole FAR away from me so I can finally go home already.”

Carl sighed, placing his hands up in the air. “Nothing’s going on, officer. My girlfriend’s just being dramatic.”

You barked out a laugh, rage boiling up in your chest as though a little red monster was clawing at your insides, just begging to be set free. “I dumped your ass! What do you mean girlfriend?”

After a bit of back and forth between you and your boyfriend, things progressively got heated. Even more so when the officer tried to get between the two of you when Carl tried to grab your hand for the umpteenth time, resulting in Carl pulling a gun out from behind his back. 

The officer tried to reason with him, slowly reaching for his own gun from his hip, but Carl shot him before he could reach it, running off once he realized what he had done.

You heaved a long, heavy sigh, spraying the area with the disinfectant as you tried to push any thoughts of Carl from your mind.

“May I ask what happened? With you and that guy.”

Or not..

You shrugged your shoulders, threading the tip of the string through the eye of the needle. “Nothing really happened. He cheated on me, and I wasn’t willing to stay and give him another chance. That’s all, really.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” Tim said, keeping his eyes focused on what you were doing.

“There is, I just don’t feel like getting into the lies and manipulation.” You said with a hollow laugh, gently poking his thigh with the tip of the needle. “Did you feel that?” 

Tim simply shook his head, focusing on keeping himself as calm as he could so you could work. 

“Perfect. Let’s get to it then.”

-

When you woke up, Tim’s head was resting on your shoulder, a red blanket draped across both of your laps. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wake yourself up enough so you wouldn’t fall back asleep. 

You spent over an hour trying to stitch up and bandage Tim’s thigh last night, and after you did, he somehow convinced you that a few glasses of whiskey would be good for the pain..

You glanced over at the clock on the wall, your shoulders slightly caving inwards when you saw that you had less than two hours to get ready for work.

You tried to slowly slip your shoulder out from under Tim’s head, holding your breath as though it could be a factor of waking him up, but no matter how quiet or slow your movements were, Tim gripped onto your arm, snuggling his face deeper into the side of your neck. 

You thought about actually waking him up, feeling guilty for wanting to stay and cuddle with an unconscious stranger. But when you listened to those soft snores and felt the way his chest slowly fell, only to rise again a moment later, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

This was probably the best sleep he’s had in awhile, you reasoned with yourself. The crazy granny case probably kept him up most nights, and now you have the chance to allow him to rest..

And so, you sank back against the couch, gently laying your head atop of his.

Just thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes and you’d both get up and go your separate ways. 

A small smile tugged at your lips, your eyes slowly falling shut as your whispered. “Thirty more minutes.”

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #merge mansion #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford x you #detective tim rockford #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #thanks for the ask!!

[lady-bess]

💜Just A Date💜

A LadyBess Valentine's Special 🤍

8 Pedro Characters - 8 Valentine's Dates! 🤍

All character pairings will be with gender neutral readers! All stories will have 18+/Mature themes, but content will remain fluffy and SFW! 💕

💕 Valentine's Masterlist 💕

Jack Daniels/ Agent Whiskey Joel Miller Tim Rockford Frankie Morales Marcus Pike Din Djarin Javier Peña Agent Ortega

💕 For more works by me, see my masterlist! 💕

Happy Valentine's to you all! - LadyBess xox

#pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro characters #valentines day #valentines fic #javier peña #joel miller #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent ortega #ortega #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #marcus pike #din djarin #frankie morales