My Wife

He is Nothing Like You

Tim and Reader have been secretly married for three years, which has done them good, considering the risks of Tim's occupation. One day, while Tim was on shift, he never expected his secrets to start ripping at the seams and spill onto the floor.

MDNI 18+ since it involves sexual activities! I’m gonna do a second part

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's the ring around your neck?" Lucy asks, trying to break the silence in the shop.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's just a ring to me, no specific meaning," Tim responds while silently praying Lucy would end the conversation there, "Also it's safer if it's around my neck than on my finger."

"Grey wears his wedding band, and you don't see him having any trouble with it," Lucy mentions as Tim chuckles and reminds her that Luna would kill him if he ever took his ring off.

"Just let it go and focus on other important things, like that carjacker right there," Tim said, causing Lucy to jerk her attention back in front of her as he stopped the shop and the both of them get to work.

Once the carjacker was booked and processed, Tim and Lucy were on their way to get back on the road when Grey stopped them with a, "Bradford, my office real quick."

Lucy asks, "What is that all about?" Tim responds, "I don't know, just wait by the shop. I'll be there when I'm finished."

Tim enters Grey's office to see his wife, Y/N, sitting in one of the chairs. "She doesn't look pleased about something," Tim thought to himself before Grey excused himself to let the couple talk privately.

-Y/N's POV-

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked me while I got up from the seat to stand in front of him before I ask him, "Do you remember telling me when we first started dating that your dad died?"

Tim gulps before clearing his throat and answered, "Yes, why are you bringing that up?"

"I was cleaning the house up when the phone rang. It was a hospice nurse calling for you because Tom Bradford was asking for you," I responded before continuing, “Thinking it was the wrong number, I called Genny to ask her what was happening. She told me I needed to have that conversation with you."

Before Tim could answer me, Grey popped his head in to remind Tim about an old case regarding a family friend, Monica Ochoa.

"Do you need to go? I'm not mad. I'm just so confused," I said before Tim turned his head towards Grey and told him he was still on it before turning his attention back to me.

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Tim responds before I nod. Understanding his tone's urgency, I told him I'd be waiting with Kojo at home.

Hours passed before I heard the doorknob jiggle; Kojo had heard it since he had jumped off the couch to run to the door and greet Tim.

"Hey bud," I hear Tim say as his footsteps start toward the living room, bringing him into view.

"Hi," I say as Tim takes a seat next to me before he takes my hands in his.

"I haven't been honest with you about everything, and I am truly sorry. It wasn't fair of me to let you get whiplash from finding out I lied about my dad being dead," Tim responds as I notice tears brimming in his eyes, making me take my hands back and put one of them on his cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I meant what I said. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, reassuring him before he sighs and responds, "I know, but it still wasn't right of me. So, I want to tell you everything."

"Okay," I say as Tim clears his throat to mention, "The reason I told you he was dead is because he's dead to me. He was abusive. To me and Genny, mostly me."

Before I can ask, he says, "When I was 7, he smashed my head into a wall. Another time, he left me at Griffith Park with only a compass to find my way home, said it's supposed to turn me into a man."

"Tim," I croak out before tears started to fall down my cheeks, "Now I feel bad that you had to reopen those wounds."

"No, no, don't you dare blame yourself," Tim said as he wiped the tears before continuing, "I should've been honest from the get-go, but instead, I wanted to keep that part of my past secret to spare you from the pain. And it was about time I told you since I have to see him."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. Don't let this hospice situation guilt you," I respond before Tim shook his head and told me it had to do with the Ochoa case.

"I think he had something to do with it; now I have to face him," Tim says, looking like the little boy who just wanted his dad's love, which prompts me to ask, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't force you," Tim started to say before I cut him off, "I want to. You're my husband, and my vows stated that I will be by your side for every obstacle in your path."

"Okay," Tim whispered as the both of us exited the house hand in hand, preparing to battle this demon together.

We arrived at the facility and entered the room to see my father-in-law lying in his hospital bed.

"Oh, man. Never thought I'd see your face again. Genny tell you to visit?" Tom says as I squeeze Tim's hand harder in comfort.

"Wow, liver really did a number on you, old man," Tim responds before Tom tells him he doesn't have it so bad.

"Nurses here all love me. It's just no one will bring me that shot of Patron I keep asking for," Tom says as he jesters toward the apple juice, saying it's a joke.

"A cruel joke if you ask me," I thought before glancing at Tim's face to see he thinks the same.

"You always seem to have someone looking after you, even when you don't deserve it," Tim responds, squeezing back my hand.

"Something on your mind, son?" Tom asked, clearly wanting this to be done and over with.

"Remember Frank Ochoa? Lived down the street. Shot to death 25 years ago. Well, I'm sure you remember his wife, Monica," Tim responds.

"Can't say I do," Tom deflects, obvious sign that he does remember.

"Come on. You were sleeping with her behind Mom's back," Tim says, making Tom laugh, and he asks where he got that from. Tim mentions that he saw the two of them together when he was 13.

"Oh, crap," Tom says before Tim continues, "For some reason that I still don't understand, I lied for you, lied to Mom."

"Poor little Tim-Tim," Tom degrades before spouting out, "What are you bitching about? You kept your mouth shut. You did good. Now get over it."

I feel my blood start to boil in anger at the audacity, the disrespect this son of a bitch in front of me had for the man I plan to spend forever with and have children with, but I keep quiet because he seems to not care about my presence.

"You know, I found the gun that you hid in the wall. I know you killed Frank. But why'd you do it? You wanted Monica all to yourself?" Tim asked before continuing, "Ruining one family wasn't just enough for you, was it?"

Tom takes his cannula out before getting off the bed and walking towards us. "And so what if I did?" What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get back in bed," Tim grits out as he moves me to stand more behind him for safety reasons, prompting Tom to challenge him with a "Make me."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're right. I killed Frank. But he had it coming. So screw him, and screw you," Tom says before telling Tim to put the cuffs on him and drag him away from his deathbed like a big man.

"This isn't over," Tim responds as he grabs my hand again, and we both leave Tom's room.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard all of that," Tim whispers before entering the truck, "I have to get to the station and type up that report. I'll drop you off at home before I do."

"No, take me with you, it would save gas," I said as I explained to Tim it wouldn't make sense to do that.

After arriving at the station, Tim heads to one of the computers while I follow him. I glance over to see his rookie, Lucy, walking over.

"My dad confessed to Frank Ochoa's murder. I'm typing up the report," Tim tells Lucy as she looks at me before gesturing there were ears listening, "She's my wife, she knows."

"Wait, wife?! As in ring on the finger?" Lucy asked in shock as I raised my left hand to show her my wedding band, "We'll get to that later, but Tim, while you were gone, I brought Monica Ochoa back in."

"Why?" Tim asks as Lucy explains, "Because I knew there was more to her story. You couldn't see past the version that you wanted to see."

"What'd she say?" Tim asks again, before Lucy tells him what was confessed.

The look on Tim's face tells me we're going straight back to that hospice facility. We walk back into the room and see Tom snoring in the chair, so Tim places the shot glass and pours Patron before placing the bottle on the table, waking Tom up.

"You brought me a present?" Tom asks before Tim tells him to think of it as a push.

"You didn't kill Frank," Tim says as Tom repeats that he did and tells Tim to cuff him, "Monica confessed."

"Leave her out of this," Tom responds.

"Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close and you needed to frame someone else," Tim says.

"He was a brutal, abusive bastard. She deserves a medal for what she did," Tom responds, making me and Tim look at him in shock.

"He was an abusive bastard?" Tim asked, testing Tom for what came out of his mouth.

Feigning confusion that was fake, Tom asked if he was like him, which prompted him to say he was nothing like Frank.

"I taught you what you needed to know, son. You're a man now because of me," Tom says before I finally let my voice be heard.

"No, absolutely not. You are not getting credit for how Tim turned out," I gritted through my teeth as Tom looked at me with disdain before asking me who I was, "I happen to be the woman your son is going to spend the rest of his life with. I'll be damned if I stand by and let his piece of shit father try to take what's rightfully his credit. You deserve nothing of the sort, he's nothing like you and he will never be like you."

"Tim, you're going to let your wife speak to me this way?" Tom asked before Tim scoffed and responds, "She's right. I'm who I am in spite of you."

As Tom sits there stunned, Tim says, "Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts."

We left the facility without looking back, and after we arrived home, I suddenly felt my body being moved to where my back faced the door and I craned my neck up to look into Tim's eyes.

"Thank you," Tim whispers as I look at him in confusion, "Thank you for being by my side for that. I know it wasn't easy, but you were right. I needed you there with me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I will always be there for you," I say before Tim smiles and leans down to kiss me.

After kissing for what felt like minutes, Tim moves his mouth to be near my ear and he whispers, "I'm also really turned on by you defending me."

I laugh before asking, "Oh are you? What are you going to do about it?"

I feel Tim's hands move down to my ass before I squeak out in surprise as he hoists me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist and feel the outline of his dick through his jean.

"I think I'm going to give my beautiful wife a thank-you gift," Tim whispers before moving towards our bedroom and putting me down on the bed.

"Tim, you don't have to," I started to protest before he cuts me off, "Just let me do it, you deserve it."

My attention gets grabbed while I watch his hands curl around the collar of his shirt before he pulls it up off his body, which, I feel myself start to drool over my husband's abs. His hands then moved to his belt to unbuckle it before he walk up to me and get down on his knees so he can be on the same level as me. Tim pulls me into another kiss, one more passionate than the last, as I feel his hands unbutton my jeans before he pulls the materials down to my ankles to take them off, leaving me in my black panties. He then positions my body to lean back against the pillows before he moves himself to be above me, Tim asks, "Is this okay?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head before Tim's fingers curled around the sides of the panties as he started pulling them down. He groans out in pleasure as he changes his position, his shoulders in between my thighs, keeping my legs where he wants them to be, his hands near the area I yearn for him to pay attention to. I shivered when I felt his breath before he placed his mouth on me, causing me to let out a shuttered moan. When I felt myself getting close, Tim pulled away, causing me to groan out in frustration, making him laugh.

"The only way you're cumming is around my dick," Tim whispered in my ear as he gets himself out of his pants and boxers while he pushes my shirt up to above my chest, showing the matching black bra.

The both of us let out a groan as Tim enters me and starts to thrust, his dick hitting all the right places. After minutes passed, the both of us came and Tim's body moves to his side of the bed as I tell him that was a great gift, making him he let out a soft laugh.

"Glad to be of service," Tim says getting out of bed and putting on clean boxers and pajama pants before he goes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean me up.

After Tim cleaned me up and helped me get dressed, he got back into the bed to pull me into him so we can cuddle.

"Tim?" I said after a moment of silence, causing him to say, "Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I respond before reaching over into my nightstand and pulling out a small box, "I was going to give you this later, but now feels right."

Tim opens the box and pulls out a onesie that says, "My daddy will arrest you if you mess with me."

"Babe, this is perfect for our future baby," Tim responds before he felt his voice stop short when he sees what else is in the box, reaching in to pull out the pregnancy test, "Are you really?"

"Yes, I found out two weeks ago, you're going to be a dad, Tim," I said as Tim pulled me into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head, "And you're going to be the best dad, I just know it."

"I love you so much," Tim whispers before pulling me into the most loving kiss a girl could ask for.

Tim may have had the worst pick in the dad potluck, but no doubt in my mind he will never treat our children the way Tom treated him and Genny.

Do You Want to Keep a Secret?

Part 2 Here - Do You Want to Keep Another Secret? >

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader

Summary: After Luca asks Street to stay out of the house for a while, Street gets tired and curious and accidentally crashes Luca's "book club."

Warnings: secret girlfriend, "book club" joke goes on way too long (Bridgerton slander; I haven't and won't read it but know Street wouldn't like it), fluff, brief mention of alcohol consumption, the one and only Duke!!!

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Street, wait up, man,” Luca calls.

Street pauses by the door of S.W.A.T. HQ and turns to look at Luca. 20 Squad had an early day and Street’s been eager to get out of the station and relax. When Luca waits for Deacon and Hondo to walk by before he begins talking, Street narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“What do you want?” Street asks.

“I can’t just want to talk?” Luca defends.

“If you just wanted to talk, Deacon and Hondo overhearing wouldn’t have been a problem. Spit it out, man.”

“Fine. I’m going to be home late tonight and need the house tomorrow night.”

Street opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Luca tugs nervously on his backpack strap, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Street.

“There’s something that I need to do tomorrow, and I just- go ride around or visit friends, whatever you want to do, but I really need the house to myself,” Luca explains.

“What do you need to do?” Street inquires.

“Something that I can’t do with you asking questions.”

“Why-“

“Streeter, please.”

Street nods slowly before agreeing to find somewhere else to be tomorrow night. Luca’s the best roommate and friend he’s ever had, so despite all the questions he wants to ask, he’ll give Luca the space and privacy he needs. As they leave HQ, Luca turns left where Street turns right, and Street only becomes more curious about where Luca is going and how he’s spending his nights.

“Book club?” Street asks.

“Dude, do I look like I’d host a book club? Or be in one?” Luca replies.

“No offense, but kinda. You’ve got that soothing, welcoming personality, and you love people.”

“Who’s in a book club?” Deacon asks as he walks into the situation room.

“No one,” Luca answers.

“Luca disappeared last night, didn’t get home until well after midnight, and now he needs our house tonight. Won’t tell me why,” Street explains.

Deacon looks over at Luca, and he nods once. Luca thinks Deacon probably figured out exactly what has been taking Luca’s free time, but he trusts Deacon to keep it quiet and not push like Street.

“Well, Street, you’re welcome to come over for dinner since you’ve been evicted,” Deacon offers.

“Temporarily evicted,” Street corrects. “And, thanks, but I already found a way to kill a few hours.”

“Luca, enjoy the Street-free house,” Deacon adds as he leaves.

“Hey!” Street yells. “Wait, Luca, is Duke staying?”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Luca told you during your date last night that he’d pick you up from work today because he had a surprise. Seeing your boyfriend two days in a row is unusual, but you’re certainly not complaining. The permanent smile on your face since you met is proof that there’s never too much time with Luca.

“We’ve been dating for a while, but we don’t spend time alone,” Luca begins. “Not that I don’t enjoy our date nights, but I thought it might be nice to have a night in for once.”

“That does sound nice,” you agree. “But we both have roommates.”

“I don’t have one tonight. Street agreed to let me have the house to myself for a while.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much. He asked a lot of questions, though.”

“You know, you’re not the first boyfriend I’ve had who didn’t want me to meet his friends. You are the first who said it was because of his friends and not me, though.”

“I’ll introduce you when the time is right. And we’re not starting with Street, that’s something that needs to be eased into.”

“Then who would you introduce me to first?”

Luca smiles, and when he reaches the last stop sign before his house, he turns to look at you.

“Deacon, probably,” he answers. “I think he already knows I’m seeing someone.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Deacon’s crazy intuitive, and the only one who has any idea what it’s like to be in a committed relationship.”

Luca turns into his driveway and races around the front of his truck to open your door and help you out. His house is cute, you think, but the work he’s doing in the neighborhood is even better than the house. As he opens the door, you hear a dog bark happily.

“Is that Duke? I get to meet Duke?” you ask excitedly.

“Yes, you do. He’s the best roommate I have.”

“When I meet Jim, I’m telling him you said that.”

“He already knows.”

Luca opens the door, and you step inside before being greeted by Duke. He’s just as kind and gentle as his owner, and you fall in love with him in a moment. As you kneel and pet him, letting him sniff your hand to introduce yourself, you’re glad for a quiet night in. You know Luca well, but you expect to see a different side of him away from the public eye, and the dangers he watches for outside.

“This is the best date you’ve ever taken me on,” you tell Luca as he helps you stand.

“I’ll remember that next time I get reservations at an expensive restaurant,” he jokes.

“You know I’d be happy with your cooking, or a food truck, or a microwave dinner as long as I’m sharing it with you.”

“Don’t get sappy yet,” Luca warns playfully.

You already feel comfortable in Luca’s house, and as you follow him into the kitchen you catch a glimpse of what the rest of your life will be like. Your favorite meal is waiting for you, and you hug Luca tightly to thank him. The night is perfect, and it’s just beginning.

“I’m so tired,” Street complains.

“Go home,” Chris answers. “That’s, like, the entire point of having a place to live.”

“I can’t. Luca said I can’t come home until later.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t tell me. Deac probably knows.”

“If he didn’t say why, it must not be too important.”

Street looks up from his drink and snaps. His eyes are glassy as he points at Chris and agrees, “You’re so right. You’re so smart, Chris.”

“And maybe you need a ride home,” she suggests.

“I’m not drunk,” Street argues. “Just tired and I want to know what Luca is doing.”

“I’m not going to tell you that you should go home earlier to find out, but if you’re uncomfortable staying out any longer… Where else are you supposed to go?”

“Luca would kill me.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

Luca’s hand slows in its trail from your hip to your ribs and back down. His touch is both calming and electrifying, and you can’t imagine a life without Luca. He pulls your legs over his lap to bring you closer. What started as sitting on his couch to talk quickly turned to quiet confessions and cuddles, which you would like to be a nightly occurrence. Luca kisses your cheek before promising that he loves you.

“I’m never going to want to go on another date with you unless it’s just like this one,” you say.

Luca turns to look at your smile and cups your cheek before he agrees, “I’m sure we could work something out.”

“You’re gonna have to tell Street then. Duke already loves me, so we’re over halfway there.”

“Or I could just get him, like, arcade passes to keep him busy.”

“Luca.”

‘We’ll talk about it later,” Luca whispers as he leans in.

His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck as he kisses you. Already halfway in his lap, you lean forward and press your chest to his to return the affection. Your hands move to Luca’s shoulders, and you grip his shirt gently as you push yourself closer to him.

The door opens, and you pull away from Luca quickly as someone asks, “Is this why you didn’t want me to come home?”

“Street, what are you doing here?” Luca asks as he gently moves your legs off of his and stands.

“I forgot?”

“Any other night I would believe that,” Luca says.

He’s standing in front of you, but you peek around his side and wave. You introduce yourself and say hello to Street as he waves in return.

“Why are you back?” Luca asks again.

“I got tired, and Chris kind of convinced me that it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to come back early. I swear, Luca, I had no idea I was going to be interrupting.”

“Because I didn’t want to tell anyone yet!”

You stand and lay a hand on Luca’s back in an attempt to calm him down. Although you understand why he wants to wait, things don’t always work out like you want.

“I’m sorry, Luca,” Street says.

“Uh, Street?” you interrupt softly. “Do you want to keep a secret?”

“You want me to stay quiet about this? Absolutely; you don’t have to worry about that." He looks to Luca and adds, "I really am sorry, man.”

“Not exactly,” you say, though you look at Luca as you say it. “Want to start a book club?”

“I knew it,” Street says through his teeth.

“You guys want to come over for dinner?” Luca invites.

“Are you cooking?” Hondo asks quickly.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then, I’m in.”

“Sure,” Deacon agrees. “I just have to be home by nine.”

“Nobody envies that, Deac,” Hondo teases.

“I’m down, too,” Tan says.

“Sounds good,” Chris adds.

“Alright. Come over whenever you’re ready, but food should be done in about an hour,” Luca calls over his shoulder.

“Bring your own silverware, I’m not doing dishes,” Street demands.

“Sure thing, playboy,” Victor says.

“Hello?” Street asks as he opens the door.

“Kitchen,” you call. “Are you aware that it’s still your house?”

“Doesn’t mean you have to feel uncomfortable or stay confined to Luca’s room.”

You smile and when Street raises his hands in question, you ask, “Are you ever going to let them know that you’re not a playboy anymore?”

“And lose all my credit and the best nickname I’ve ever had? Not likely, future Mrs. Luca.”

“Now that is the best nickname I’ve ever had.”

“Streeter!” Luca calls.

“Second best,” Street whispers before leaving your side to help Luca.

“How well do you think this is going to go, Duke?” you ask as you follow him into the living room.

“This is the only book that I could find seven copies of,” Luca explains as he dumps a bag of paperbacks on the coffee table.

“Bridgerton?” you read. “Luca, did you think maybe there was a reason there were so many?”

“It’s good enough for a TV show,” Street says.

He picks one up and begins reading the blurb on the back, and you watch his face go from curious to confused to disinterested and disgusted.

“Not good enough for a S.W.A.T. team,” you explain. “And now poor Street is scarred for life.”

“Good thing we’re not reading it,” Luca says. “They’re going to figure out far before they gain any interest in the book.”

Street shudders as he steps back from the books, and you laugh before returning to the kitchen. Luca is making dinner, but you claimed dessert and two different options are cooling on the counter. The doorbell rings and Street walks to the door as Luca arranges the books. You run into Luca’s bedroom to hide and wonder if Street will be able to keep a secret long enough to pull off the book club gag.

“Hey, Deac,” Luca greets. “Come on in.”

“Is your girlfriend here?” Deacon asks.

“How do you do that?” Street exclaims.

“Dude,” Luca sighs. “Yeah, she’s here.”

“The book club bit is a nice touch,” Deacon applauds. “Worst book you could have chosen though.”

“I agree,” Street says dramatically.

“Annie couldn’t finish these books.”

“Understandable.”

The doorbell rings again, and Deacon and Street quiet as the rest of 20 Squad enters the Luca/Street abode. With all of them talking over one another, you can’t tell how the conversation is going.

“Why is there an extra book?” Hondo asks. “Did you miscount for this joke or is that part of it?”

“No, there’s seven of us,” Luca answers.

“Me, you, Street, Tan, Deac, and Chris. That’s six, my man.”

“Plus, my girlfriend.”

Hondo, Tan, and Chris freeze. Luca expected a louder reaction, so the stunned silence is a surprise.

“Are we going to stand here in suspense, or do we get to meet her?” Deacon asks finally.

“Hi,” you say as you walk into the living room. “I’m-“

Halfway through your introduction, 20 Squad finds their voice again and Hondo, Chris, and Tan begin speaking over one another again to ask you questions. Street steps up and raises his hands to stop them.

“I can answer any questions you have about her. Because I’m a great roommate, and Luca’s best friend, and I already know her,” he says proudly.

“What’s her favorite book?” Luca asks.

“I can say with absolute certainty that it is not Bridgerton,” Street answers. He looks at you quickly to ask, “Right?”

“That is correct,” you affirm.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Deacon says as he shakes your hand. “Sorry Street was the welcome committee.”

“If I get to see Street, I get to see Duke, so it’s a win,” you tease.

“Okay, okay, let’s go back,” Hondo interjects. “How long have you been together?”

“Almost six months,” Luca replies.

“Six months? And we haven’t heard a thing? Luca, what did we do to deserve this?”

Luca glances at Chris, who is pulling you away from Deacon and talking so quickly you probably can’t understand anything.

“The interrogation I knew she’d get, mostly. No offense, Hondo, but when we’re all together it’s a lot to take in.”

“I get that, man, but you could have told us. We’re family.”

“I’m telling you now. With food.”

“Touché.”

“She’s going to be around for a long time, though,” Luca promises.

“I’m happy for you, man. Just let me know before you pop the question, would you?”

“I do have a ring,” Luca murmurs.

“Next book club, she ain’t here and we talk about that little piece of information,” Hondo declares before leaving Luca to join the small circle around you.

After everyone leaves, and you accept an invitation to join Annie and Deacon for dinner next week, you fall back on the couch and lean against Luca. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you closer to him.

“You were right. They’re a lot, but it’s clear that they care about you, Luca. I’m glad you have friends – family – like them,” you say.

“And now they’re yours,” Luca replies, “for as long as you stay with me.”

“I like that sound of that.”

Duke jumps onto the couch beside you, and you pet his head. Luca imagines how different this will be when you have a ring on your finger and smiles.

“There is just one thing I’d like you to do,” you request.

“Anything.”

“Pick a better book next time. Something by Michael Connelly or Doyle, anyone-“

Luca cuts you off with a kiss, and you both pretend not to hear Street tiptoe behind you to eat more brownies.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐟𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐫˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫 .𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ andy barber x fem!reader

summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ packing couldn’t be easier

word count ☽˚⁀➷｡ 3134 DO YOU DIRTY SERIES

warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡ PART THREE OF SERIES laurie making a move on andy grr😡, andy packing up a box, talking about tomatoes, shower sexy sex, fingering, praise kink, having to be quiet, andys hand over your mouth yum, breeding, laurie being literally crazy, school stuff, intentions kidnapping, trauma, crying, bad bitch vibes

authors note ☽˚⁀➷｡ PLEASE REBLOG MY TAGLIST IS ENDING ON JULY 10TH PLEASE FOLLOW @dulceslibrary AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN I POST 18+ ONLY,, feedback is appreciated

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Keep reading

Freedom - Walt Deville Imagine (The Invitation)

Title: Freedom

Pairing: Walt Deville X Reader

Word Count: 1,145 words

Warning(s): mention of violence/potential violence

Summary: A hunter meets a vampire. The unstoppable force meets the unbreakable object, allowing for the ultimate battle between logic and desire.

Author's Note: Here's that longer plotline I mentioned on my last imagine.

Part of this was inspired by a gorgeous monologue written by Ross McGregor and performed by Christopher Tester. You can find it here! It was truly the last thing that I needed to help me tie this whole plotline together, so go check it out. It's fucking beautiful work.

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

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

"I know what you are."

I froze on the landing of the stairs, looking up at the top of the other staircase.

Walt stood on the top step; one eyebrow slightly raised. He tilted his head at me. Like he expected me to spill every secret to him just because he looked at me.

I knew in my heart what he was referring to. If someone gets a job on your estate with some ulterior motive, you will probably notice at some point.

I was a hunter.

I had been for a long time.

My hunting partner had sent me on this job, insisting that I was the best choice to go undercover and figure out the truth about what was happening in the manor.

I was meant to run under the radar, take care of the vamp, and run for the hills.

I had been there for weeks.

I was convinced I knew who it was. I believed it was Mr. Fields. He was constantly tense and seemed to be always overly cautious. I can admit when I'm wrong, but I didn't think I was at the time.

All I had to do after that was find the time to take care of him.

Which was proving ridiculously difficult.

That's the only reason that I had been there as long as I had.

I never meant for Walt to even notice me.

But once he had, I couldn't just avoid him. It would've given away that there was something about me to focus on.

We talked. A lot.

I had confessed more to him than I ever meant to. I had managed to tell him so much about myself without saying I was a hunter. I shouldn't have said as much as I did, but he seemed so interested and so... kind.

And now he was standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at me like he was daring me to do something. Run, fight, anything at all.

"What do you mean," I finally asked. I needed confirmation.

"A hunter."

There it was.

Nevertheless, I scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about, Walt."

"You don't?"

"Not at all."

"I don't believe you," he started walking down the steps. "Hunters... they always get just a little too confident."

When he made it down most of the stairs, I took off, going to run down the rest of the staircase. The one night I didn't have a weapon. I had no intention of fighting. He was right behind me, dragging me away from the steps and shoving me to the wall, pinning my wrists with his hands. I flinched a bit, having narrowly avoided hitting the things on and by the wall.

Walt offered a sickeningly sweet smile.

I caught sight of the fangs in the dim light around us. I had been so convinced that it was Mr. Fields. I was such an idiot.

"You hide it well," Walt said quietly. He was so calm that it made me entirely uneasy. "Many hunters have shown up on my doorstep... you've been the most impressive."

I tried to kick him, or just move my leg some way. It didn't work.

"Shh, shh, shh," he chuckled a bit. I felt his claws dig into my skin slightly. "Stop moving."

I calmed down, realizing the risk right now.

"I could kill you now," he muttered, his lips finding my neck. "Hunters were always the most satisfying... but I have no interest in that now."

He pulled away again. I don't know what he was looking for as his eyes scanned every part of my face.

"You are... something very, very different... so clever and so brave and so... tempting..."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I froze. His lips were slow, attempting to guide mine to move with them. I almost did. My eyes started to flutter close, longing starting to stop my logical thought.

He pulled away as he moved from holding my wrists to gently holding my hands. Vulnerable. Open for me to take action. Shove, fight, hit.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

He lifted one of my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm before turning it over to kiss the back. He held it there for a while. It was like he wanted to stop time and hold onto this moment.

"Leave him," Walt said softly. I blinked at him, suddenly snapping back into focus. "Stay here... with me."

I didn't answer. I wanted to quickly decline. To kill him and go home to my normal life. Achieve what my partner wanted of me.

Walt's eyes were closed as another kiss was pressed to my hand.

"He craves your usefulness," he continued. "Your obedience. I... I just want you. You've captured my mind and my heart. I long for you. Stay with me. Please."

"I...," still speechless. How long had it been since I was last speechless? Had that ever happened?

"Imagine it," Walt moved back, guiding me away from the wall.

He stepped behind me when we reached the middle of the landing. His arms wrapped around me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"All of this... ours," he muttered. "You would have your own room for your research and your weapons. Every decision would be yours. At last, your choice. You would be loved, taken care of. Nothing earned, everything offered. And then, when the time is right, you will be joined to me forever. We'll dance through midnights and love for centuries. Unstoppable."

I felt like his words were circling my mind, burrowing into whatever part they could find until they had overwhelmed me. I had never heard something like that before. Not directed at me anyway.

"Let me provide everything that man could never," Walt gently kissed my neck, humming against the skin. "Let me adore you."

I took a deep breath. "My life... my work... all my own?"

"All I ask is your love and commitment."

It wasn't the only factor that I was considering, but I needed to know. Locking myself in this house would have driven me mad. Being able to work... to continue my purpose in this world... that's what I needed. I couldn't prove his love false, but I could do just that with his actions.

I turned around in his arms.

He grinned at me.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. His hold on my sides tightened and he pulled me closer. I touched the sides of his face, grinning into the kiss. I had never had a moment feel more complete. I felt at peace. Free.

I leaned back, resting my forehead against his. "Yes... I'll stay."

His grin grew into a wide smile.

Thus was the beginning of my eternity. And what a brilliant eternity it would be.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

Whatever happens (Tim Bradford x F!Wife!Reader)

Summary: do to your work as a high ranking national security officer you and Tim get taken hostage in your own house

Warnings: : torture, not descriptive but is listed what happened. Misogyny and sexism (not from tim), hospitals, kidnap, canon violence

Notes:

Sorry for the grammatical errors. I’m new at writing so feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading. do not translate or appropriate my work

Comments and kudos are highly appreciated :)

words: 2500

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

You unlock the door and enter your house. Tim is already out of uniform, and he is cooking dinner in the open space kitchen. You drop your bag on the floor next to the door as you sigh, tired from the long day. As one of the top-ranking officers of the National Defense some days were really exhausting to say the least. At least you now could relax at home with your husband

‘hey. I thought I would get started on dinner’ he says as he puts on the stove, giving you a hint of a smile to greet you, something that is reserved to you and only you

‘did I tell you that you are the best husband in the world?’ you ask him with complete appreciation as you give him a quick kiss

‘from time to time’ he teases you as he smirks

‘you are. I’m starving. And it was my turn to cook’ you tell him seriously as you place your hands around his neck as he places his on your waist. He kisses you again, now more properly

‘well you can always show your appreciation later’ he teases you again as you roll your eyes lovingly at him ‘deal’ you tell him as you peck him again before you throw your heels out of the way

‘long day?’ he asks as he lets you go to stir the rice

‘the longest’ you reply as you start to set up the table ‘we fear there has been a breakthrough of info on undercover agents and they put me as head  of operation to make sure they are safe, I need to check each of them’ you sigh

‘well that sounds exhausting’ he replies honestly

 ‘your day?’ you ask

‘some standard arrests. And lucy passed my Tim test today.’ He replies as he start putting the food on the plates

‘tim tests? Can’t you leave that poor boot alone?’ you playfully make fun of him as you sit down

‘be careful or you are going to be Tim tested too’ he says pointing the spatula at you

‘you wouldn’t’ you tell him faking shock ‘I’m your wife’

‘don’t test me’ he replies hiding a smile ‘come on. the food is ready’ he says as he moves towards the table with the meal in his hand. But before he places it on the table the room gets filled with smoke and he feels something in his neck, a narcotic that makes him faint instantly as you do too while he calls your name.

-.-.-.

You wake up tied to a chair in your home’s office. Two men stand in front of you

‘hello y/n’ they tell you ‘had a good sleep?’ they mock you

‘who are you and what do you want’ you ask. This is not your first kidnap

‘straight to the point I see. We want the real name of the undercover agents’ they tell you playing with a knife

‘I don’t have them. They are classified’ you reply

‘and that is the first lie of the night. Our intel says only one person has all of the names, and that is you’

You maintain your calm wondering how they know it. ‘I don’t’ you reply as you asses the situation. You are chained to the chair. Is impossible to break free

‘okay let’s see if your memory starts to work after we are finished with you’ they tell you before punching you in the face

-.-.-.-.-.

Are the screams that wake Tim up. your screams. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he is still in his living room and that the screams he is hearing are your screams.

‘y/n!’ he shouts ‘leave her alone!’. but is useless. He is not even tied, he is chained to a metal chair. He mentally curses himself and your shared love for design, at least if it were a wooden chair he could have tried to free himself. He assesses the situation. he is a cop, he was a sergeant in the army , he should know how to get out of any situation. he needs to help you. His wife is being tortured and he is without a scratch and unable to help you

He tries for more than two hours to free himself, trying to not think about what they are doing to you as your screams get progressively worse

Tim is kind of scared of how you held up, how you did not say anything as they tortured you. He knew you were strong, but this, this is almost inhumane.

The screams stops and he fears the worst.

The door suddenly opens and the two men bring you in. he has the first glimpse of you since they took you. tim can’t almost recognize you. Your face is too puffy and full of blood. They had beaten you up, for hours. Tim also notices that some of your limbs don’t look right. The two men throw you on the floor. You are still passed out. Your hands tied together behind you.

His hearts start beating again only when he sees a feeble movement of your chest going up and down. You are alive.

Tim’s blood boils in his veins. Flashbacks of the last time he has seen you like this passes through his mind. more than 10 years ago, when you were both in the army and you got taken hostage for days. He still doesn’t know all of what had happened to you during the captivity, you never talked about it apart from some info then and there. He had killed who did that to you, heading the rescue mission. He had a lot of remorse for what he witnessed in the army but never for that. Now he wanted to do the same to these two men who had entered his house and tortured his wife. Damn the consequences

‘son of a bitch what did you do to her’ he says in anger as he tries in vain to move

‘don’t worry big guy. She is alive. I must say this bitch is strong. Broke more than 20 bones in her body one by one and still has not given a name’

Scratch that. Tim doesn’t want to kill them. He wants to break each and every bone of his body and more. He wants to inflict them 10 times what they did to you.

‘I’ll fucking kill you’ he says rage in his eyes

‘what a knight with a shiny armor. A bit difficult considering your situation right now.’ The guy mocks him

The man takes some water and throws it in your face to have you woke up, it works as you stir. He throws more at you before giving you a kick. Tim tries to move from his chair and the man laughs at him

‘tim’ is your first word as you try to find him, your eye focus still blurry from the blood and the puffiness until you see him, just a bruise on his face, his eyes blurry with tears for you and anger against them. You sigh in relief

‘are you okay?’ he asks his voice almost breaking, he knows he sounds stupid as you clearly are not but he needs to have a verbal confirmation

‘yah’ you say as you spit blood. Tim doesn’t believe you

‘sleeping beauty is awake’ the man says taking your face in his hand roughly to throw you on the floor again

Tim flinches

‘as torturing your body did not work we will try with a psychological torturing. let’s see if your so little to nonexistent self-preserving instinct applies also to others’ the man says pointing his head towards tim

Your biggest fear comes true. Tim is going to suffer because of you.

‘tell me the real names of the undercover agents or I make him my own punching ball’ the kidnapper says pointing to tim

Tim stays silent looking in your eyes saying with them ‘don’t’. you spit some blood and stay silent. Your heart breaking as you just basically agreed for the man to torture your husband

‘well then’ the man says as he punches tim. You look away. The other man grabs your face again and forces you to look as He punches tim again and again . tim tries to not react, knowing that if the situation was reversed he would give in immediately at the sight if you suffering. He tries to be strong for you, to not have you give in to the blackmail

‘okay clearly you don’t care enough’ the man says as he pauses his assault on tim.  ‘who is this one anyhow’ he asks as tim too spits some blood, his face now too puffy and bruised.

‘no one important. The local supermarket delivery guy. He was just dropping my food delivery’ you lie through your teeth

Tim knows you are saying that to protect him, to not have them use him as leverage more than they are already doing, but it hurts anyhow

‘no one important? Hum. There are quite a few pictures of this delivery guy around here’ the kidnapper says as his partner picks up and passes to him a photo of you and tim where you two are kissing

‘no way, this is your bitch?’ the man asks tim connecting the dots

‘don’t call her that’ tim replies his anger violent

‘tim’ you warn him, knowing his rage will only harm him

‘oh I see. You are her bitch’ the man says pointing at tim ‘this changes everything’ the man says to his partner laughing ‘if torture on her won’t work let’s see how she reacts when her man is the one being tortured’

The second kidnapper picks up the boiling hot knife he had been warming up and passes it to the leader who shows you the knife before going towards tim

‘don’t tell them anything’ tim tells you dead serious ‘I can handle it. I promise’

The kidnapper burns tim and cuts him, when he breaks his leg you scream. Tim still tells you to not speak as you start to cry but remain silent.

‘I see. We have a fellow hero here’ the man mocks tim, now bloody almost as you

‘ I didn’t expect this to be this difficult. I will give you that. Okay now time to stop the games’ he says taking out a gun and pointing it to tim ‘speak or I put a bullet between his eyes’

‘y/n don’t tell him anything, I am just one person’ tim says trying to convince you. He is a  cop his job is to protect people. His life counts less than the one of the undercover agents.

‘you choose y/n’ the man mocks you ‘300 agents or the man you love’

‘please-‘  you plead them. The man puts the gun on tim’s forehead

‘last chance’ he says as he charges the gun while tim mouths ‘I love you’ as he closes his eyes waiting for the inevitable end

‘okay okay I will tell you!’ you shout ‘But please let him go.’  You plead them

‘see? It wasn’t that difficult’ the man replies as he drops the gun from tim’s head

‘Let’s make a deal I will voluntary come with you, I will be a valuable hostage, but let him go. Please I beg you’ you continue. You don’t care what happens to you, you just want to save tim and the agents

‘y/n quit the crap don’t-‘ tim says as the man punches him to shut him up before laughing

‘the great y/n y/l/n the youngest  director of Internal Security Special Unit  and one of the top ranking National Defence officers is begging me? Wow. and all for him? a woman is a woman after all, he must fuck you well’ the guy mocks you, while the other laughs

Tim is boiling in rage at the blunt sexism and insults of the man in front of you. You don’t care anymore, you will do whatever it takes to get Tim out

‘please let him go’ you plead him again

‘nah. This is more fun. Speak now or never’ he tells you

‘don’t  tell them’ tim says pleading you with his eyes

‘3 … 2 …’ the man starts counting the gun barrell at tim’s forehead. tim takes in your face for what he thinks will be his last time. He wants to take in every detail of you even if you are so bruised and broken, to him you are still the most beautiful person. As the man reaches two he closes his eyes

‘John Lawrence!’ you scream before he can count to one.

‘perfect. Here we go. See it was easy’ the kidnapper mocks you as tim opens his eyes in defeat, as you can’t bring yourself to look at him

You list all the people taking the longest time possible to hope they will come rescue. You want to buy time, knowing that when the list is done not only the agents will be dead but also you and tim.

Yet Inevitably the list comes to an end

‘thank you very much. Betraying your country and 300 people for one single man’

You keep your head low knowing you just sentenced to death 300 agents.

The man points the gun towards you ‘kill me but spare him please’ you say having given up on your fate but hoping you will still be able to save tim

Tim flinches in his seat at your plead.  ‘she told you what you wanted let us go now’ tim says

‘and let you stop our operation? No way’

‘by the time they find us you will already have done it’ tim tries to make him reason

‘you know what? You are right. I will not kill you’ the man says as he turns

He shoots you in the stomach as tim screams your name and you can’t even cling to your stomach as your hands are tied ‘I will let you die of blood loss so that you can stare at his corpse knowing it is your fault’

He then points the gun to tim’s head

‘no! please!’ you shout

‘its okay sweatheart. I love-‘ tim says looking at you

As you hear the gun shot you close your eyes screaming but then you hear tim’s voice calling your name. you open your eyes as you see the SWAT entering the house and killing the two intruders before you pass out

-.-.-

Tim wakes up in a hospital bed, Lucy goes next to him in a second

‘tim! How are you?’ she asks him

‘y/n. where is y/n’ he asks frenetic looking around ‘tim…’ lucy tries

‘where is my wife!’ he shouts at his rookie. ‘next room but tim-‘ she tries, he doesn’t care he gets of the hospital bed falling down as he realizes that is leg is still broken after all

‘tim- you shouldn’t get up-‘ lucy tries to make him reason as she goes to help him

‘help me or leave!’ he says his eyes look like pure fire she nods as she helps him up and to walk next room where you are staying

Angela, who was sitting next to you, stands up seeing him ‘tim-‘

Tim freezes when he sees you. You are in a bed, more casts on your limbs that he can count. Your face is still swollen even if now is clear from the blood, tubes come and go out of you, one is even in your mouth.

‘y/n’ he sighs. Lucy and angela help him to the chair next to your bed. He sits down and takes your only non-casted hand in his

‘how is she?’ he asks them looking at your broken form, eyes lucid

Angela and lucy exchange a look before Angela speaks ‘the doctor said the situation was critical. Both her legs, her arms and one hand are broken. She had a concussion from the beating and lost a lot of blood, but the gun shot did not damage any major organ’

‘is she-‘ he is afraid to ask as the words die in his throat

‘yes she is in a coma. They are positive that she is going to wake up.’ Angela says

‘when‘ he asks as a knot forms in his throat

‘they don’t know‘ lucy replies as tim just nods never taking his eyes off you

‘the intruders?’ he asks now voice plain and cold

‘they were killed in the rescue operation. Any info they might have gotten never made it to their associates’ angela says, careful to not say or insinuate that you indeed told them something or in this case everything

‘they should have suffered more’ tim says as lucy and angela exchange a look

‘tim you should be resting. You have a broken leg and a minor concussion, and bruises and burns everywhere…’ lucy tries to make him reason

‘leave’ he only replies voice flat

 ‘tim…’ angela tries

 ‘leave!’ he shouts looking at them and they do leave. He turns again towards you worry and regret consuming him

He places your hand in both his as he kisses it before placing his forehead on it.

And for the first time in years tim bradford cries

Giving Zoro Head On The Ship Deck 18+

Aka- Getting dick on the deck

Imagine the crew docking to boat at the nearest island and going into town. Leaving Zoro and You alone. It had always been a fantasy of yours to have sex on the deck. The thrill of someone possibly seeing you. But your mind is consumed with the need to pleasure him. Tears dripping down your face. Saliva dripping down your chin.

He would periodically stroke your cheek while praising you on how well you take him. The feeling of pride takes of you when he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure all he can do is throw his head back and moan. Even when he dose finally release into your mouth you don’t stop until he has nothing left to give.

Pulling off of him and sitting up all you could do was aww at how beautiful he looked is this moment. The usual composed and tough man was almost like putty in your hands. His cheeks flushed and sheen of sweat was on his face and chest.

As he was about to gently push you onto your back to return the favor. You both heard Luffy loudly asking Sanji, “what and when they were having dinner.” because he was starving. Even though he just ate so much meat in town not even ten minutes ago.

So Zoro had to compromise and tell you to meet him later that night so he can show how much he appreciated you. Safe to say you wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep that night.

Authors note:

By the way this is a really shitty pic I just took photos off of Pinterest and mashed them together.

Also this is my first time writing. Please be some what nice.

Thanks for reading.

Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly! Part 2 Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Tim recruits you to aid in a Metro op. When you ignore his direct orders, you dare him to arrest you, but you have a request.

Warnings: this is pure fluff and banter!! the song reference part is a teeny bit suggestive I guess, but it's completely clean/sfw as always!

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

cop cuties, cute and on duty. navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up. arrest me, but make it sexy.

You’ve been a patrol cop since you completed your rookie training with Tim Bradford. Throughout the last few years of working alone, you’ve trusted him enough to ask for advice, offer to work for him and reach out when he was injured. Most cops don’t stay close to their TO, but Tim was always more than that. Somehow, against his will, you think, you and Tim became friends. He knew from the beginning of your training that you were going to be a great cop, which is why he decided to recruit you for a new job.

“Officer,” Tim greets as you walk into Wade’s office.

“Sergeant,” you reply. “I take it I’m here to see you and not be yelled at by Grey.”

“Why do you need to be yelled at?” Tim asks, raising his brows as he crosses his arms.

“Absolutely nothing, sir.”

“Sure. Metro is working a forgery operation, and we need an extra set of hands. I think you’re the right cop for this job.”

“You do?” you ask, suspicious of why he chose you over the hundreds of other choices.

“Yes. But you get to decide. Do you want to join the team and complete your first Metro op?”

“Yes, sir,” you agree. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“You still have to prove that I’m right,” Tim reminds you. “Gear up, we’re leaving in ten.”

You nod before you exit the office. Working with Tim is something that you’re used to, but not in a Metro team.

“Get to the corner,” Tim orders.

You stay in place, watching the forger. He’s in plain view, waiting for something and checking his watch every minute or so. That makes him dangerous and reckless. The overview that Tim gave you and the Metro squad at the station didn’t place the suspect outside of his studio.

“Corner, now,” Tim repeats.

“He’s outside,” you radio.

“And you’re not in position.”

You huff and move your hand off of your radio. There’s no chance of catching this guy if you move from your current position. Tim is still going off the original, incorrect intel. Not to mention, moving could spook him and ruin this operation.

Tim says your last name over the radio, and you wait for him to continue. “Get in position.”

“There’s no point,” you argue.

Tim radios for someone else to cover his position as he moves toward you. His approach is nearly silent, but as he squats beside you, you don’t look over at him.

“You have to follow my orders out here,” he reprimands quietly.

“Even if they’re stupid orders?” you reply without looking away from the suspect.

“That’s not your call. This isn’t rookie training where you get input because you’re learning. You do what I say or you’re off my team.”

“I understand that.”

“Then get in your position at the corner,” he orders again.

You don’t listen but remain quiet rather than argue with him again. Tim sighs beside you and clenches his jaw.

“Do you remember where you’re supposed to be?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“Then get into that position and be ready for the next phase of this op.”

“No, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim looks at the side of your face. He’s had enough of you acting like a partner who can argue with him. As much as he trusts you, you’re still his subordinate and this is unacceptable, especially in the middle of a Metro operation. Leading Metro is the most rewarding yet challenging position he has had as a cop, and he won’t let you compromise his position or the trust his team has in him.

“You know I can still make arrests, right?” Tim asks harshly.

You raise your brows and turn toward him to snap, “So, what; are you gonna arrest me? For what?”

“For disobeying direct orders! I can arrest you now and put you on desk duty and break room fridge refills for the rest of the month.”

You look back at the suspect before you stand. Tim follows your movement, and you lean toward him to push your finger against his chest.

As you crowd him, you dare, “Arrest me, Officer Bradford. But make it sexy.”

Tim looks between your eyes before he grabs your right shoulder. He spins you quickly and pushes you against the cinder block wall behind you. He wraps one hand around both of your wrists behind your back as his other hand rests against your hip, just above your holster.

“You want to say that again?” Tim asks.

“Not that I expect you to know what a real Degas looks like, Officer,” you taunt loudly, “but the gallery you just destroyed is worth more than your life!”

“What are you doing?” Tim whispers in your ear.

“Go with it,” you request.

“Excuse me!” the suspect calls as he approaches you and Tim. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m an art connoisseur, of sorts. What seems to be the problem?”

Tim pulls his handcuffs from his belt and puts them loosely around your wrists. He pulls you away from the wall and against his side as he turns to face the art forger.

“This woman is an art forger,” Tim answers. “So, unless you purchased a Degas painting from her, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I fear that’s impossible,” the man replies. “Degas is nearly impossible to forge. The paint age and brush strokes are dead giveaways.”

“Spoken like a true enjoyer,” you say.

“Shut up,” Tim demands. “Sir, if you’d like to have your art checked by our experts, I’d be happy to make that call for you.”

You nod, a small movement you hope will make the man trust you. The art experts know his signature, so if they can get a look at his work, Tim’s work will be done, and another forger will be behind bars. The crime itself seems too white-collar for Tim’s skills, but a successful arrest is a successful arrest.

“I would appreciate that, Officer,” the man answers. “I can give you access to my collection now.”

Tim radios for the art experts waiting nearby to come in. He keeps a hand around your wrist, his pinky occasionally brushing between your skin and the metal cuff. After the experts enter the warehouse, it only takes two minutes before they radio to Tim that they have the evidence they need.

“You’re in luck, sir,” Tim tells the suspect. “Looks like the only forgeries in there are yours.”

Tim moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls your handcuffs from your belt.

“You’re under arrest for art forgery, possession of stolen goods, and unlawful sale of property,” Tim says as he secures your handcuffs onto the suspect.

Another Metro officer rushes past you and takes the man from Tim to lead him to a waiting patrol car. Tim turns to face you and pulls a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket before he puts them on.

“You’re welcome,” you tell him.

“There are better ways to tell your superior officer that a different approach may be better,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ignoring orders isn’t it.”

“You weren’t listening!”

“I listened at the end. You did well, but don’t ever do that again.”

You smile and step forward until you nearly hit Tim’s folded arms. “Scared I’ll take your job?”

“You are stubborn, uncompromising, and have no respect for authority,” Tim lists. “My position is safe from you.”

You tilt your head to the side and shrug. Tim radios a code 4, then walks away.

“Are you going to take these cuffs off?” you call after him.

Tim turns and stops a step away from you.

“You’re the one that wanted to be arrested,” he replies. He shrugs and asks, “Was that sexy enough?”

“I mean, yeah, it worked,” you answer. “But defying your orders got you the arrest, so…”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Tim begins.

He continues reciting your Miranda rights as he leads you to his car. His hand trails down your right arm as he puts you in the backseat. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, you realize that the handcuff on your right wrist is loose enough you can get your hand through.

“Defying direct orders is wrong,” you muse. “What if I start a verbal flirtation while you take me to your station?”

“I will arrest you,” Tim threatens.

“With what cuffs?” you ask, spinning his on your finger. “You gave yours away and took mine.”

Tim shakes his head and pulls over. He opens the back door, and you hand him his handcuffs as you climb out.

“If I had to get arrested, I’m glad it was with you,” you say before you round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat.

“I was considering mentioning you for a Metro promotion,” Tim begins as he drives back onto the road. “But after that stunt today…”

“You’ll never see me the same?” you guess.

Tim looks over at you, though you can’t see his eyes past his aviators.

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

“You liked it,” you accuse playfully. “Admit it.”

Tim adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Maybe.”

I read your hc for Andy and i love it! I read it like 5 or 6 times. I have crush on Andy (crush on a fictional character is Silly i know) and Andy in this hc is sooo close to my imaginations. Exept that he got divorce after ten years from his wife (not laurie) which they always had problems an at the end she cheated on him and Andy saw them in bed! So if u accept request i want to ask for a hc Andy and young reader that she give him a BJ. Andy was just with her wife for like ten years and she really wasn't into it so this BJ is after long time and sooo diffrent from what he had in the past :)

notes: first of all, i’m so glad you liked that hc - it’s very near and dear to me and probably one of my favorite things i’ve written for andy! so i appreciate this ask as well :) i won’t lie, though, i did take some liberties with this because i felt more inspired keeping it in the same universe of the original hc! hopefully that’s okay, and you still enjoy this because i had an great time writing it - consider it our second look into fresh start!andy as i’ve started calling him! post break credit to the lovely @evansyhelp!

pairing: andy barber x reader.

warnings: 18+ / minors dni, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking but the tender kind, all in all sweet andy getting back into the swing of dating. you don’t have to read this previous headcanon to get this one, but it does add context for everything reader and andy are worried about! 

wc: 1.7k

The first night you spend at Andy’s house is an accident. You’ve only been dating a few weeks at that point; each one more wonderful than the last but moving, at his request, at a snail’s pace.

So, waking up in his bed, head pounding from wine the night before, feels like a foot on the gas that you can only hope hasn’t ruined things. From the looks of it, he didn’t join you – leave it to him to be so selfless — but you can’t decide if that makes this better or worse. And when you finally emerge from his room, face washed and tongue stinging from mouthwash, it’s with a heart braced for the cold shoulder. For Andy, aching from a night on the couch he wasn’t expecting and irked by the crossed boundaries. 

Instead, you’re met by his usual warmth; a broad smile when he sees you peek into the kitchen and a hand squeezing your hip when you’re close enough to reach. “Mornin’, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks like it’s nothing - like you’re right where you’re supposed to be - and when he presses a cup of something warm into your hands ( made just the way you like it ), you nod, preening.

Crisis averted.

The second time you spend the night, it’s storming. It’s in the depths of Massachusetts winter, just one month after the first night; so a blizzard isn’t all that shocking. But, it had been unexpected, the skies opening up to dump a few feet of snow in just a couple hours.

Andy had hosted dinner again and you’d taken extra care to pace yourself, not wanting to repeat the mistake from the month before. But after just one glance out the window as you pull on your jacket to go home, Andy himself nips that plan in the bud.

“Absolutely not,” he huffs when you insist you could make it back with your ‘state of the art tires’. “This isn’t stopping any time soon and there’s already a few feet down - just stay here and if it’s still bad in the morning, I can help take you back.” 

The invitation isn’t the problem — in fact, your chest warms at his worry, tender spreading through every part of you. But, you worry, still, about imposing after the last slip-up. Even with your wits about you, there’s so much that could go wrong; so much you could do to overstay your welcome the first time you’ve actually earned it. 

Caught up in your thoughts, you don’t notice Andy getting closer until he’s upon you, hands moving to guide yours off your coat. His touch draws your eyes to his face where he, again, has that big smile, this one laced with softness as he works your jacket off you. “Not sure what you’re thinking about so hard over here,” he muses, folding the coat over his arm once he’s done. “But, you’re not arguing with me anymore, so I’m going to take that as a win and get some blankets out here to keep us warm.” 

His lips come down on the swell of your cheek before he turns and as you watch him pad towards his bedroom, you feel your heart flutter in anticipation. 

There’s something about this you could get used to.

The third time you spend the night, Andy can’t stop kissing you. 

It isn’t the first time you’ve made out, now four months into your relationship and long past the nerves that made him clam up at anything beyond a peck. But, it is the most intense, the most indulgent it’s ever been.

It’d started with a night out; with dinner at his favorite restaurant and drinks at your favorite bars. Each new spot found you closer, touching more and more until the levee buckles and you’re in his lap, head spinning equal parts from the alcohol and him.

He gets you home without putting much distance between you, fingers skimming any skin he can reach as you wait for a ride and pulling you into him once you’re both in the backseat. But he doesn’t kiss you again until you’re alone; until you’re back in that small apartment that’s started to feel empty when you aren’t there and he can lick into your mouth until your knees knock. 

That’s all he really wants that night — to kiss until you’re both sick of it. But, some things have a way of taking a life of their own and it would seem tonight that that’s you. Or rather, the desire between you; this pent up, heavy thing that’s grown steadily for some time, but is at a full rage tonight, inevitably landing you here —-

You, on your knees before him while his chest squeezes with a desperate need.

He can’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this; could count on one hand the number of times Laurie took him into her mouth after those early years together. But, he knows better than to write his excitement – and the throbbing in his jeans – off as simply lust for what’s about to happen.

It’s because it’s you. It’s you who wants it, breathing the ache against his mouth so prettily – “Can we — could I taste you, Andy?” — he couldn’t deny you. It’s you sitting there, mouth moist from his kisses as you fish his cock out. It’s you sucking in that hungry breath, eyes watching the precum at his tip leak down over his veiny underside. And it’s you, his sugar-sweet girl, leaning up to trace it with your tongue until you can wrap your mouth around him.

The heat of it sends a jolt through him, something guttural rising from his chest as his hand finds the back of your head. You feel incredible; tongue slipping around him as if gauging the girth before your cheeks hollow and sets his entire body ablaze. “Jesus Christ,” he grunts, embarrassed by the way he actually has to work to keep his hips from bucking up.

You don’t make it any easier, of course. As if you can read his struggle in the tension at his shoulders, you start to move, head bobbing at a pace that’s slow to start. So much so that he’d think you were baiting him if he didn’t know any better. But, there’s something in your eyes, something in the way you devour his expression as much as you devour him that makes it clear that you just want to learn him - see what he likes, what makes it good.

The thought of it makes his body tremble and his fingers tighten some in their grip on the back of your head. It’s only slight, but you notice enough to move faster, the increased pace bringing with it messy sounds that make Andy lose his resolve, if only briefly, and rock his hips to meet your mouth. 

Horrified, he’s stuttering out an apology before you notice, even starting to sit up as if to guide you off, but your hand on his hip stops him cold. You pull off of his cock, but only enough to be heard; he can feel your lips against him as you talk, in butterfly kisses that make his legs jump. “‘S okay,” you breath, giving his hip a reassuring squeeze. “‘S okay.”

You smile then, the curve of it plush against his cock, before you’re taking him back into your mouth, this time to the hilt. Andy’s head falls back against the couch, lips parting in a silent groan that starts to rise as you take on the fastest pace so far. 

This time, he’s convinced you are baiting him, goading him to let go with the way you watch from under your lashes. And when his hip twitches under your hold, pulling one word from you before you’re back on him – “Please,” – Andy’s an absolute goner. 

Eager, but still nervous, he fucks up into your mouth slow at first; cursing at the depth and slick that comes when you’re coming down to meet him too. He’s only a couple, careful pumps in when your fingers dig into his hip and tug; needy, demanding.

You want more.

It bowls him over; how much you want, how much you’ll give. And even with some lingering concern about going too far, he’s finally started to lose his head. Inhibitions lowered, he’s fucking up faster, more intently, as he pants your name into the still of his apartment. And you’re there to meet every stroke, mouth so wide you’re practically drooling just to make it easier for him to press into your throat.

Before long, he’s close, embarrassingly so, and thinks he should at least warn you before he goes over the edge. But, the words don’t come, not in any way that matters, and he’s stuck with stuttered gasps to try and make do. “Baby, s-shit – I’m–” 

You catch on, quickly at that; but to Andy’s surprise, you don’t stop. No, you go faster, take him deeper until he’s lost to his climax, hips lifting all the way off the couch as he cums down your throat with an intensity that takes his breath away. And it’s only when you’re absolutely sure that you’ve gotten every drop that you pull off, a pleased sound rolling in your chest.

You barely have a chance to swallow or even wipe your mouth before Andy’s on you, hoisting you into his naked lap to bear down on you with kisses. His tongue fills your mouth like it’s seeking himself out in the edges and every time he tastes it, he grunts; kisses harder. 

You’ve unleashed something, you think.

But, you don’t have much time to dwell on it when he’s breaking the kiss, nose knocking yours gently before he gives you a sated smile. It’s different from those big, beaming ones you’re used to – dopey and not as wide, but lovely all the same. It stirs you so much, you plant another kiss for good measure before pulling him forward to catch his breath in the crook of your neck.

Content, Andy settles right where you want him, mouth to your still-stuttering pulse. He decides right then that there’s something about this he never wants to lose. 

sanji's first time | sanji x reader

sanji has been wondering what this day would be like for years and he's sure he could die a happy man after a night with you ♡

18+ ACCOUNT/CONTENT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

warnings: sub sanji, men whimpering yeahhhhh, sex for the first time, afab reader!, lots of commanding sanji

sanji pants heavily when you pull off of his cock with a pop, a pathetic whine leaving him when you press a sloppy kiss to the tip. "such a good boy. don't even have to tell you to behave." you giggle as you pump him with your fist, another cry leaving him as he watches your hand and grips the sheets underneath him. you stop only a moment later, crawling into his lap and leaning down to kiss him as you slowly grind back against his cock that's leaking pre-cum and flushed red at the tip. "c-come on, baby, pleasepleaseplease.." he gasps out, his shaky hands finding your waist and squeezing it. you playfully tut at him, taking his hands off your waist much to his dismay; a quiet cry leaves him when you instead place his hands on your breasts. "gotta take it slow, sweetheart. don't want you cumming just yet." you say with a hum, reaching back to lead his cock to your entrance.

the two of you moan in unison when his tip pushes just past your folds, staying like that as he throws his head back against the pillows with a loud moan. his face is flushed red with lust, lips slick with spit as he tries to stop himself from drooling at your heat around his tip. "don't be shy, honey, i want to hear alll your sounds." you giggle as you finally lower your hips with a long moan, sanji unable to hold back the embarrassing cry of a curse that leaves him. his hips buck up into you on instinct, another whine leaving him when you push his hips down with one hand. "let me take care of you, handsome. you already help me so much." you say, lifting your hips again; you bite your lip to hide the growing smile on your face when you don't lower your hips, relishing in the desperate look in sanji's eyes. "pleasepleasepleasepleaseohgodspleasebabyplease"

you pick up the pace of your hips as you lean forward enough for sanji to force you further down, groaning as he buries his face in your breasts; had this been any other moment, you would have laughed but sanji's eagerness even for his first time only turned you on even more. "such a good boy, puppy, so so good." you whine softly as he squeezes your breasts further against his face. without warning, he starts to buck his hips up into yours in a way that sends a chill up your spine, setting a fast, steady pace that makes a choked moan leave you. he babbles strings of praise to you and what you think is an apology; "feelsofuckinggood, 'm sorry.." he whines as his hands find your ass and squeeze it, using it as a way to lower your hips to meet his.

way too soon for sanji, he feels himself getting close and he can already tell it's going to hit him hard. "b-baby, 'm soclose, please, w-wanna cum inside.." he pants heavily, looking up at you with this look that makes you let out a small whine: how can you possibly refuse him when he's looking at you like you are god herself? "let it allll out, honey, give it all to me." you whine as you start to move your hips to meet his, feeling your own release coming. sanji's sounds only grow louder and more pathetic with every stroke inside of you, calling out your name like a mantra. it isn't long until sanji finally cums, letting out a loud, low groan as his hips speed up into an almost impossible pace much to your pleasure. he goes limp against the bed as you ride out your own high, head tipped back and soft gasps slipping out of you as you milk sanji for all he's worth.

im ngl to yall, i finished this at almost 2:00 am so sorry if anything sounds weird LMFOAM

Rich for a Night

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!detective!reader

Summary: To catch a thief targeting wealthy couples, you go undercover with your husband Deacon.

Warnings: fluff, Deacon & r are held at gunpoint, a Bugatti gets wrecked :(

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (1x19 "Source")

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you lament. “The robberies always occur after big events, dinners, charity galas, but there’s no other connection.”

“Catering company?” your desk neighbor suggests.

“Different for every event. No one worker has been at every event. Planners have alibis, there’s no similarity in looks or where victims live, even banks. The only lead we have is wealthy couples getting robbed, sometimes at gunpoint, after an event.”

You drop your head into your hands as you reconsider the entire case. You’ve looked through every guest list, and everyone has alibied out, even though only a few couples overlapped and attended every event. They got robbed, too, as it turns out. The first two robberies had a connection: they both banked at the same place, but after that, the connection disappeared.

“It has to be someone near the events,” you murmur. “Maybe it’s someone who has access to Los Angeles socialite calendars and is just hanging around the events and picking people at random.”

Your phone rings, and you sigh before you answer, “Detective Kay.”

“Detective, there’s been a murder,” the caller says.

“Let me get you someone in homicide.”

“No, this is related to your burglary case. Or at least that’s what the homicide detective thinks. It looks like a robbery gone wrong.”

“What’s the address?” you ask as you pick up your cell phone and keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

On the drive into the hills, you add this new twist to your thoughts on the case. You agree that this location, the schedule, and everything about the setting of the crime match your investigation. The murder is either a progression or a mistake. Maybe the burglar was interrupted, or the victim tried to stop him. Before you can create too many theories, you arrive at the scene and flash your badge to enter the house.

“What have we got?” you ask the homicide detective surveying the scene.

“Forensics is going over everything now, but it doesn’t look like anything was taken. Single gunshot to the chest was our cause of death.”

“Nothing was taken?” you repeat. “Then why do you think this is related to the thefts?”

“Because of that,” he answers, squatting as he points under the makeup vanity. “A bag filled with jewelry pushed just out of reach. Almost like a dying woman was trying to protect herself and her home.”

“What else did you find?”

“Not much. Seems like this happened pretty quickly. Alarm was disabled at eleven-oh-five p.m.”

“After the murder mystery theater on the yacht,” you add. “Date night gold for the rich.”

“Hence, why we think this is your case, not ours. They’ll try to recover the bullet during the autopsy and run ballistics.”

“Until then, it’s mine to decipher. Thanks, detective.”

“Could I make one suggestion?” he inquires as he removes his gloves. You nod, and he says, “This seems like the perfect opportunity for a UC. Even if you don’t come face-to-face with the burglar, you get to know a bit more about the victims.”

“Even more if you go undercover yourself,” your partner adds as she walks into the house. “Progression or accident?” she asks, pointing to the victim.

“I can’t go undercover,” you argue.

“Why not? You get to play dress up. Plus, you’ve got a tactically trained and incredibly attractive husband you could take with you. No one would question your right to be there with Deac’s old money vibe and your, well, everything.”

You look around the scene, a luxury environment as an outward acknowledgement of all the victim worked for, or as it may be, didn’t work for, and decide it truly is your best option.

“I need a Rolex.”

Browsing the rows of the evidence locker with a small box in your hand, you wonder why so many rich people get arrested. So far, you’ve gathered a Rolex Daytona worth at least $100,000 and three pairs of sunglasses from Cartier, Ray Ban, and Dolce and Gabbana.

“Perfect,” you whisper as you find an envelope with a Tiffany ring and a pure obsidian band.

With these accessories and the dresses your contact who works with the UC division is procuring for you, you do not doubt that you will fit in. You still need a car, but you know just the people to ask about that.

“I need to check these out, Ally,” you request as you slide the evidence onto a desk. “For case 9212024.”

“No problem,” she answers as she begins logging case numbers and photos into her computer. “Who’s the ring for?”

“My husband.”

“I pity the criminals you’re after.”

“At least they’ll get a nice view while we put the cuffs on.”

“What are you doing here?” Rocker asks as you enter SWAT HQ.

“Lovely to see you too, Donovan,” you reply with a smile. “Do you greet your wife like that?”

Rocker shrugs and hugs you quickly before he directs you to where 20 Squad is reviewing warrants.

“Sergeant Kay,” you call as you enter.

“Oh, hi!” Street greets.

“This is a surprise,” Deacon says as he moves around Street to hug you.

“I have something for you,” you begin. You pull the obsidian ring from your pocket and lift the Cartier aviators from your side. “A proposal.”

“Is this a married couple thing or am I just confused?” Street whispers.

“You don’t want me to answer that, playboy,” Luca replies, slapping his back.

“Why?” Deacon questions, smiling even as he narrows his eyes at you.

“It’s just a date,” you promise.

“To do what?”

“I’m still working the string of burglaries targeting rich couples. We’ve got tiny leads that add to enough of a clue that I want to go undercover at the next big event to try to find something. I have to work faster because a woman was killed during a robbery last night.”

“Why not take someone more familiar with the case?”

“Do it, Deac,” Street whispers. “Just for the watch.”

“What watch?” Deacon asks.

You lift your hand to show the Rolex Daytona hanging loosely around your wrist. “There’s a look to people like this. I’ve got everything except a date right now, and you’re the best option for more reasons than I can list, Deac. If you can’t, I get it.”

“No, I want to,” he states, taking the sunglasses from your hand and sliding them onto his face. “Let’s catch a burglar.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Street complains.

“Street,” you call. “I need something from you and Luca too.”

“Alright,” you announce after you secure your earrings. “We just moved here from New York, have our accounts set up, moved into a newly renovated house in the hills and are scoping out the local charities because we’re budding philanthropists.”

“And luring a thief,” Deacon adds as he gently tugs the strap of your dress to straighten your neckline.

“Mostly that.”

“I’m following your lead tonight, detective.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Your ride is here,” Street says on the other side of your door. “And you’re welcome, but don’t get used to it. Luca and I may be brilliant, but we’re not get a free Bugatti loaner every week brilliant.”

“I never said it had to be a Bugatti,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I can hear you, ya know,” Street calls. “You are wearing a wire. So, keep it PG, Deac.”

Deacon smiles as he leans toward the tiny microphone hidden in the seam of your dress strap and answers, “10-4, good buddy.”

Street groans, and you gently push Deacon’s shoulders to straighten his tie. He looks good, though you expected no less.

“Let’s be rich for a night.”

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Napier,” the valet greets as he opens your door. “Beautiful car. It's number 17,” he adds as he hands Deacon the card to pick up the car after the event. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” Deacon answers, nodding as he shakes the man’s hand and passes a $50.

You wait on the curb as Deacon rounds the back of the Bugatti and wraps his arm around your waist.

“If he scratches that car, Street will kill me,” you say through your smile.

“Good thing it’s not Street’s car,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go, Mrs. Napier.”

You smile while you loop your arm around Deacon’s bicep and follow him into the concert hall. Innumerable couples are finding their seats and milling around the open area of the hall as they discuss charities, recent events, and bank account balances. With Deacon, you have no concern about looking out of place, and your confidence is assured when three different women look over at him. One of which looks away from her husband to do so.

“Good evening,” a woman greets, smiling as she approaches you. “My name is Andrea Campbell and I’m hosting this evening’s event. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I don’t recall meeting you.”

“No, ma’am, you haven’t,” Deacon says, carefully extracting his arm from your hold as he offers to shake her hand. “I’m Dan Napier and this is my wife. We just moved here from upstate New York and wanted to see the charities of Los Angeles.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Mrs. Napier, I am an advocate for women in philanthropy, so if you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. I truly hope you enjoy this evening’s show and the presentation.”

“Thank you,” you offer before Andrea is called away. Once she’s out of earshot, you stifle a laugh and whisper, “I’m surprised she even saw me.”

“Mrs. Napier, is it?” a man asks, allowing as he pauses directly at your side, out of Deacon’s reach. “My associate Andrea mentioned that you were here. I believe you recently opened an account at my branch of United Banks. Hopefully you can spare some time soon so I can show you around LA.”

He walks away before you or Deacon can speak, and you’re left to watch him and wonder why he chose to acknowledge you.

“Think he’s a suspect?” Deacon murmurs into your ear as you turn toward him.

“No,” you answer, moving your professionally styled hair as you shake your head. “Just a man with a roving eye. We have no evidence that our guy goes after women any more than men.”

“But he killed the woman last night.”

“The husband called it in, though. He was in the house when it happened. Said they were both tied up and she managed to get free and went into the bedroom to confront the thief. He’s scared, he doesn’t like being watched. Nothing like that guy.”

Deacon nods and pulls you close, smiling before he kisses you quickly. You slide your hand into his and follow him to your seat.

During the concert, nothing of note occurs. Even after it ends, you’re welcomed to Los Angeles by several couples, but no one sticks out as a possible suspect. So, disappointed and back at square one, you exit the concert hall and stand at Deacon’s side as he asks the valet to fetch the car.

Just as the Bugatti pulls up, the man who parked your loaner car moves behind Deacon and presses a gun against the small of his back.

“Get in the car, Mr. Napier. I’d hate to shoot through your wife’s pretty dress,” he demands quietly. “Now.”

Deacon moves his hands slightly to show the man that he’s unarmed and mumbles, “Okay, okay.”

“In the car, Mrs. Napier,” he demands, jerking his head toward the passenger door.

You nod quickly, wearing faux fear on your face as you get in the front seat. Deacon sits in the driver’s seat beside you as the armed man slides in behind him.

“Nice car,” he applauds. “Now drive to your house. Either one of you moves for a phone… if you even adjust the air vent, I will shoot you both.”

You don’t think he will, not somewhere as noticeable and closed-in as the car, but you nod and pretend to swallow a sob as Deacon pulls the Bugatti out of the short driveway.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the man begins as Hondo speaks into your earpiece to alert you that he’s behind you in an unmarked car. “We’re going to go into your house, you’re going to turn off the alarm and get out of my way, and I’m going to take whatever I want. Understood?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Deacon replies.

The man presses the gun against your temple and yells, “Understood?!”

“Yes,” Deacon answers quickly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as his hands remain firmly at 10 and 2. “Understood.”

“I trust you, Dan,” you whisper as his left hand shifts slightly. “And everything you’d want people to do.”

“Shut up!” the man demands, lowering his gun slightly as he looks between you and Deacon.

“I trust you, Daniel,” you repeat softly, hoping your wire picks it up.

“I hope you don’t regret that,” Hondo answers in your ear. “Turn one light too early if you mean it, Deac.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches as he approaches the last light before your turn.

“This way is faster,” he tells the thief as he hits the blinker but doesn’t move.

Hondo’s engine revs as he increases his speed, steering his car to the right to perform a PIT manoeuvre.  When his front bumper collides with the side of the Bugatti, Deacon releases the wheel and turns toward you. He grabs the man’s forearm and hits it against the passenger seat as you retrieve your service weapon from your ankle holster. The car slides to a stop against the curb, and the man drops his gun, then begins crying as you level your aim at him.

“You’re under arrest,” you tell him, panting as you try to catch your breath and lower your heart rate.

“Who are you?” the man whimpers as Deacon holds his arm between the front seats.

“Detective Kay, LAPD,” you answer. “This is Sergeant Kay. And the man about to pull you out onto the pavement is Sergeant Hondo. LAPD SWAT.”

“Wait,” he interrupts, sniffling. “You’re actually married?”

Hondo rips the door open before you can answer and grabs the back of the man’s shirt collar to haul him out of the car. He looks through the open back door to check on you and Deacon, then clicks his tongue.

“Luca and Street are not going to be happy.”

You tip your head back against the headrest and groan.

“Congratulations, Detective Kay,” Deacon says.

He smiles as you turn in the seat to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “Even more without the expensive jewelry.”

“But I look good in the sunglasses, right?”

You laugh and nod but point out, “We didn’t need them for a concert at night, though.”

Deacon laughs with you, and as the approaching police lights reflect around you, you know your life is richer with Deacon than with any material belongings you could ever borrow or earn.