Do You Want To Keep Another Secret?

A Room Away

Requested Here!

Edit: Part 2 Here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic abuse (reader and Tim), reader has chronic migraines from past head trauma, nightmares, reader has a panic attack, angst, fluff, Nyla and Angela. (roommates to lovers)

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: Parts of this are so self-indulgent. The migraine depictions are based on my migraines, but I think they're some of the most common symptoms. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (I'm still trying to get Tim's character down, so apologies if he's OOC.)🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

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Tim sits in the back of the room for roll call, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as unimpressed sighs escape him. Angela is getting tired of his seemingly perpetual bad mood. Clearly, he’s lonely, but he will never admit it. And that loneliness makes him mopey and broody (Angela’s official motto for Tim Bradford) until he has enough and snaps at someone.

Sitting at her desk, Angela watches Tim yell at a boot. He’s always harsh with them, trying to prepare them for anything, but now he’s using them as punching bags for his forbidden feelings. 

“What’s his problem? He’s grumpier than usual,” Nyla says as she joins Angela.

“He’s lonely,” Angela answers. “Won’t admit it or do anything about it.”

“That man needs a girlfriend,” Nyla muses.

Angela sits up straighter and smiles. “You’re a genius, Harper.”

“I know.”

Angela opens a website on her computer, and Nyla pulls up a seat to watch her intervention into Tim’s personal life.

“You’re going to rent out his spare room without telling him? This’ll be fun to watch,” Nyla says, laughing.

“He has way too much room for just one guy. Getting him a roommate and a girlfriend will surely help with.. that,” she finishes, gesturing toward Tim.

“A roommate and a girlfriend, or a roommate who becomes a girlfriend?”

“Either should work.”

“That’s your number.”

Angela nods, putting her contact information on the listing. “Tim would shut it down after the first call, so I’ll interview them, run background checks, whatever, and find the perfect one.”

“Well, Mrs. Right is always found on Craigslist,” Nyla jokes.

“This isn’t Craigslist.”

“Semantics.”

Angela posts the listing, and she and Nyla hope getting Tim a roommate will help nudge him out of his bad mood. He needs someone to talk to and bond with, but he’ll never come to that conclusion on his own. Which is why Angela considers herself to be such a good friend.

✯✯✯✯✯

Los Angeles is a big city, which is part of why you chose it without another thought. Full of opportunities and a chance of fading into the background, it’s the complete opposite of your home, which overflows with memories. The patched drywall you were pushed into, the stained tile where you thought everything was going to end, and the china cabinet with the shattered glass are left behind and traded in for a minimum wage job, a used car, and a lot of panic that you won’t be able to find somewhere to live.

You’ll need a roommate until you can save enough money for your own place. However, finding a decent place with a decent roommate is nearly impossible in your price range. Browsing online listings, you see one that could be promising. The information at the bottom says there is an interview process, which catches your attention. Sending a text to Angela Lopez, you cross your fingers for good luck before walking into work.

By the end of your shift, Angela has replied and asked you to meet somewhere nearby. You want to go home, a dull headache building at the base of your skull impairing your mood. But you also really want a better place to call home than the pay-by-the-month motel you’re currently living in.

Angela gives you a firm handshake as she introduces herself as an LAPD detective. She asks questions about your life, job, hobbies, and finally, why you moved to Los Angeles.

“I just needed a change of pace; was ready to leave my old life behind, find something bigger and better,” you answer, a simplified version of the truth.

Trying not to show it, Angela immediately takes a liking to you. Each of your answers solidifies her gut instinct that you’re a good fit for Tim. You ask why her name was on this listing if it’s not her house, and she follows your lead and gives you the truth, but not all of it.

“Tim, the owner of the house, is a coworker and friend, and I’m just trying to help him out while he’s busy with work,” she explains.

As you leave the meeting, Angela gives you her personal number, as well as someone named Nyla Harper’s number, “just in case you need anything.”

She texts you a time and address, telling you to meet her at your new place the following afternoon. You thank her repeatedly before driving to the trashy motel one last time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Parking outside the house, you fall in love with the neighborhood and the cute architecture of the home. Angela meets you in the driveway, seeming more nervous than excited. You realize she may not have been totally honest with you as you follow her to the door.

An incredibly handsome man opens the door, sighing when he sees Angela. He lets both of you in, seeming to trust Angela completely.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knows he will regret opening the door, but the woman with Angela is beautiful, and deep down, a small part of him wants to know who she is and why she’s on his doorstep.

“This is your new roommate,” Angela announces, giving Tim your name.

“You didn’t,” Tim responds. “Please tell me you didn’t rent out my spare room without asking me, Lopez.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

Standing quietly to the side, you anxiously watch their argument.

“Um, sorry,” you begin, interrupting them. “But I can go, and find a new place, since this is clearly not what you signed up for.”

You move toward the door before stopping when Angela demands, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She gives Tim a stern look before cocking her head to the side. He sighs like he has accepted his fate, a tragedy based on his reaction. Gesturing for you to follow him, he gives you a quick tour before showing you to your new room and bathroom.

“I’m not home a ton, but when I am, I’m usually watching a game or just hanging out, so,” he tells you before trailing off.

You nod before promising, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tim wants to believe you, but he also thinks you’re pretty and kind enough that he wouldn’t mind seeing you occasionally.

✯✯✯✯✯

You cross paths with Tim a few times in the first two days of living with him. He’s struck by your beauty each time but recognizes that you don’t open up willingly, so he never presses you to talk. Content to be ships passing in the night, Tim gives you a nod before continuing out the door.

It’s your third night in the house that Tim learns your reserved qualities may not be as simple as a personality trait. Waking when he hears a strange noise, Tim listens in the darkness before deciding it’s your footsteps he hears. Based on the sound, you're pacing, so Tim gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He walks right past you, and you give him an apologetic smile before slowing down. Tim makes you a mug of calming tea, sliding it across the kitchen island before sitting beside you as you drink it. Suspecting you had a nightmare or some similarly disturbing experience, Tim reminds you where you are and that everything is okay in his own way.

Over the next week, you wake him up a few more times, thrashing in your bed or exiting your room once you wake. He nudges each time, offering to let you talk about it, but you never do. You always apologize for waking him, thank him for keeping you company and making you tea before you disappear back into yourself and into your room.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve lost count of the days and nights spent in Tim’s house, your sense of time thrown off by the continued plague of nightmares and the monotony of your days. As you wake up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, you immediately turn your face back into the pillow. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, and everything seems brighter and louder. The migraines have been nearly as consistent as the nightmares since before you left for Los Angeles. 

Tim knocks on your door, and you groan as the sound echoes in your brain. He cracks the door, concerned that you aren’t up yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your current state.

“Migraine,” you answer. “I called in sick.”

He closes the door to block the light from outside and lowers his voice to ask, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Well, call me if you do, or if anything changes, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Tim. Have a good day.”

Tim nods, even though you can’t see him, before backing out of your room and exiting the house as quietly as possible. He keeps his ringer on, looking at his phone every few minutes as his concern for you remains at the forefront of his mind.

Angela and Nyla notice his usual grumpy disposition seems to have been replaced with concern for something, or someone. After he checks his phone for the fifth consecutive time, Angela decides to pry.

“How’s the beautiful roomie? Still just a roommate?” she asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Tim answers.

Angela waits for an elaboration, but Tim doesn’t offer one. She looks at Nyla, who gives a knowing look. It’s obvious that Tim is softening toward you, but you haven’t made enough of an impact that he’s less grumpy or snappy. As the day continues, his usual personality returns, convinced that you must be okay, or you would have called.

The next day, after learning that you are, in fact, feeling better, Tim is back to his pre-roommate levels of anger and high strung-ness. To worsen his mood, you wake him up with a nightmare but refuse to let him in, not even acknowledging his kind questioning as to how you are. He’s worried about you because you welcomed his presence before, but he is also angry that you changed so quickly, and now you don’t trust him. Everything is piling on, and Tim isn’t sure how much more he can carry.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just tell me something,” Angela presses.

“Stay out of it, Lopez!” Tim yells, his emotions reaching a boiling point. “I didn’t even want a puppy- a roommate! If you like her so much, why don’t you take her in?”

Angela waits for his shoulders to drop slightly before asking, “Timothy… is this because you don’t like her, or because you do?”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as he turns away, offering to go on patrol while Nolan and Celina go to the shooting range. Everyone seems to think they know Tim better than they do; Angela is pushing him toward you while you’re distancing yourself, and the push and pull is tiring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes before walking in. When he walks in, you’re standing in the kitchen. He hasn’t actually seen you since the day of your last migraine when you stopped trusting him, and your sudden willingness to be in the same area confuses him. Anger and confusion rarely mix well; with Tim, it’s a fatal combination.

You notice his tension and knitted brows, chewing your bottom lip before asking, “Are you okay?”

Stumbling to his tipping point for the second time in the day, Tim takes all his anger and confusion over his feelings out on you.

“What do you think? You can’t decide if I’m worth trusting with something as small as a nightmare, and Angela thinks that I’m practically neglecting you,” he begins.

You swallow harshly as his voice rises, stumbling backward when he starts moving his arms. 

“Especially considering I didn’t even want you here!”

Flinching, you snap your eyes closed and catch yourself on the corner of the wall. Tim freezes as he watches you. Everything begins snapping into place in his mind: your nightmares and the distance added to your reaction to him yelling and moving his hand are all signs he should have noticed sooner.

Your chest is heaving as you take short breaths, and when you finally open your eyes, you look terrified. Tim steps back, keeping his hands where you can see them. You focus on him as you slide down the wall, cradling your head in your hands as you fight off bad memories and a growing headache.

Tim watches you before sitting on the floor, keeping his distance. He waits for you to calm down, willing to let you decide whether or not you want to talk to him. You finally look back up at him, but he doesn’t move.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Can I come closer?” Tim asks.

You nod, and Tim slides across the floor, not wanting to stand up and look any more imposing than necessary. His knee presses gently against your thigh, and when you don’t move, he gives you a small smile – the first you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you say, fiddling with your fingers.

“Please don’t,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, just angry with a long day. But that’s no reason to yell at you or act like that. You confused me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t. When I was younger, my dad took his anger out on me sometimes. I’m sure I deserved it once or twice, but I also know better than to treat people like an emotional outlet. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nod before saying, “My ex.”

Tim feels a protective surge at the idea of anyone hurting you, let alone doing it enough times that yelling pushes you to the point of a panic attack.

After comforting you with proximity and kind words, Tim offers to walk you to bed. Your hand brushes his as he opens your door, and you smile as you thank him for everything. It’s a minor change in your relationship but an important one.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim leaves before you wake up the following morning, determined to find out as much as he can about you and your past. He’s not necessarily being nosy, but he wants to know if there’s anything specific that could help or hurt you.

“What do you know?” he demands as he storms up to Angela’s desk.

“About what?” she replies, raising her brows.

“What do you mean ‘about what’? Her!”

Nyla leans back in her chair, glad to watch the unfolding drama.

“Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela explains.

“Why’d she move to LA?”

“Are you seriously trying to find something wrong with her? That’s low.”

Tim moves around her desk, dropping his voice to answer, “I’m trying to figure out who thought it was okay to put their hands on her. Because she won’t let me in.”

Angela begins connecting the dots you left untouched. You ran from the person controlling your life, not your actual life. She knew that you were omitting something during your initial meeting, but she didn’t expect it to be so big.

“Have you been open with her?” Angela asks finally. “Because that’s a two-way street. I’ll talk to her if you want me to, but she trusts you, Tim.”

“How do you know that?”

Nyla’s eyes bounce back and forth like she’s watching a tennis game. She sighs before deciding to interject. “She told her! Sent her a text one night!” she calls out, smiling and waving when Angela and Tim look at her.

Tim nods, giving Angela the closest she’ll get to an apologetic look before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Returning home, Tim is surprised to find you on the couch, in your work clothes, with your face pressed into a pillow. You wave your fingers without moving to acknowledge him, and he remains silent as he walks to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be silent, it’s your house,” you mumble. “I’ll figure out a way to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re fine here,” Tim answers, setting a glass of water beside you. “Another migraine?”

“Skull fractured from getting my head pushed through a window a few months ago,” you explain with a sigh. “The migraines have gotten worse since then.”

Tim lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you plenty of time to tell him not to touch you. You don’t, relaxing under his touch instead. Tim takes a seat beside you, hoping to comfort you once more.

“Your ex?” Tim asks. 

You hum a yes, and Tim’s jaw tightens, even as he comforts you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the police station, Tim’s wallet is tucked safely in your bag. Approaching the front desk, you say your name and are wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge before someone gives you directions. You don’t have time to argue, shrugging as you attempt to remember where to turn. Angela sees you before you see her, rushing to your side and looping her arm with yours.

“What are you doing here?” she asks happily.

“Uh, Tim forgot his wallet. I was just going to drop it off, but they sent me back here,” you answer.

Tim says your name, coming around a corner, and Angela pushes you toward him, joining Nyla as they watch your interaction.

“You know she was trying to get you a girlfriend and not just a roommate, right?”

Tim nods a thanks as he accepts his wallet, glancing over at your audience. “I’m half-tempted to make them think I kicked you out.”

You smile brightly, and Tim licks his lips to keep his smile from mirroring yours. His eyes tell you more than enough, and you’re happy to see him, too.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Just let me know when so I can play my part. Angela told me to call her if you were ever mean to me.”

“Have you?”

You don’t answer, opting to wink at him before stepping back. Waving at Angela and Nyla, you leave the station as they rush to Tim’s side. As they ask overlapping questions and talk about how cute you and Tim look standing together, Tim ignores them before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is pulled from his sleep by your panicked yell. He leaves his bed and barges into your room with no thought. His heart rate slows when he sees your teary face and tangled sheets.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you wipe your tears. “I just don’t know how to make them stop.”

Tim sits beside you, opening an arm toward you. It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his offer and curl into his side.

“Are- did you mean it when you said I could talk about it?” you ask.

Tim nods, and you tell him more, but not everything. You remind yourself that he’s your roommate and maybe, just maybe, he's your friend, but he’s not here to listen to all of your baggage.

“The last thing he said before I left was, ‘there is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.’”

“You know that wasn’t love,” Tim replies, waiting for your nod before continuing. “And I’ve got your back, Angela and Nyla are right here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Drifting back to sleep in his warm, safe embrace, you finally learn what it’s like not to be scared.

When you wake alone, neither you nor Tim acknowledge what happened. You’re okay with slow changes, as long as there are changes.

“Tim,” you say, interrupting him on his way out. “Thank you. For last night.”

“I’m only ever a call away,” he reminds you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your head starts aching around noon, quickly worsening into a full-blown migraine. When you’re ready to go home, it’s bad enough that you can’t drive. Sitting in your car and resting your head against the steering wheel, you want to call Tim but can’t find the strength to move.

Tim, meanwhile, returns home and begins wondering where you are. He calls, and you don’t answer, so he lets his worry control him as he gets back in his truck and drives your usual route. Tim hopes to pass you or find you waiting as someone changes your tire. When he gets to the parking lot of your job and sees you slumped in your car, he has to fight not to panic.

Rushing to the door, he’s both grateful and concerned that it’s unlocked. He kneels beside you, saying your name before bending to see you. Your eyes are tightly closed, but tears are still leaking out. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

You whimper as he picks you up, clinging to him until he lays you down in the backseat of his truck, buckling you in as well as possible.

“Hospital can’t help,” you mumble.

Tim wants to argue, but remembers what you said about the skull fracture. You’ve already been to the doctor, so maybe getting you home and comfortable will be enough.

After a nap partially influenced by unbearable pain, you wake to see Tim sitting by your bed.

“Why are you so nice to me? You didn’t even want a roommate,” you mutter sleepily.

Tim smiles, making you think you’re hallucinating. “Yet I got something better.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t quite make it to work the next day. Walking into the station, you’re surprised when Nyla greets you first.

“I’m assuming it’s a joke,” she says.

You furrow your brows in confusion before you see Tim leaning on a desk with his arms crossed while Angela yells at him.

“Unless he really kicked you out,” Nyla adds.

You nod, walking towards Angela and Tim.

“No, you don’t get to blame me! I got you a roommate, a friend, a beautiful woman who could have been more than a friend, and you’re mad at me?” Angela exclaims.

Tim locks eyes with you, not changing his expression as he gauges whether or not her yelling is upsetting you.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask Tim.

Angela steps back, hoping to hear Tim apologize, but he stands up and gestures for you to follow him without speaking. Worried that you’re sick again, Tim waits silently.

“I’m okay,” you promise. “I just wanted to see you.”

Not believing something so simple, Tim shakes his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw a guy who looked like him while I was driving to work. He was yelling at a girl outside of a diner, and it made me nervous.” You keep your eyes on the floor, but Tim gently raises your head.

“You’re not alone, and I know that things still seem uncertain, and probably will for a long time, but you don’t have to be afraid of anything while I’m here.”

“Then why’d you kick me out?” you tease with a pout.

Tim shakes his head, telling you to go before following you out. You wipe an imaginary tear before waving at Angela.

“No, you’re not leaving,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward her desk.

Nyla smiles at Tim, and he sighs before following.

“Tell me exactly what happened between you two,” Angela commands.

You look past her before tensing, and Tim immediately catches on. He follows your line of vision and sees Nolan and Celina booking someone. You shrink in on yourself, and Tim moves to block your view.

“Get her out of here,” he tells Angela.

Angela doesn’t wait before obeying, ushering you into the bullpen and out of sight.

“What’s the charge?” Tim asks Celina.

“Assault. Beat up a woman outside a diner,” she answers.

Tim’s jaw tightens at the knowledge that this man made you nervous this morning, reminding you of your ex. He hates abuse in every situation, but when you’re involved, his protectiveness and anger differ. Tim leaves before saying or doing something he’ll regret.

When he finds you in the bullpen, he takes one look at you before hugging you. It’s quick, but Angela and Nyla look at each other in shock.

“So, you’re good?” Nyla asks.

“We were never bad,” you reply. “Just wanted to get back at Angela for trying to set us up.”

“It worked?” Angela inquires excitedly.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim repeats, looking over at you. He shrugs as he concedes, “Okay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim gets home, he drops his stuff by the door, raising his arms in question as he looks at you. “Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t made a move. How do I know you’re not just protective and caring under that handsome, gruff exterior?” you ask with a shrug.

Tim shakes his head, cupping the back of your head gently as he kisses you. You raise your hands over his chest to hold his jaw, pushing yourself closer as you reciprocate his every move.

“Because I don’t protect just anyone like this,” he says against your lips.

You kiss him again before asking, “Does this mean you can reduce my rent?”

Tim rolls his eyes, tucking you against his side where you’re safe from everything and everyone. 

Tim Through the Years - The Sibling Dinner

Series Masterlist

Summary: Tim meets your overprotective brothers. 0.7k+ words.

“Mashed potatoes... corn... chicken... croissants... gravy,” you mumbled while running around the kitchen of your home. You wiped your forehead and smeared flour on yourself as you checked on the chicken. 

“Hey babe! I’m here!” Tim shouted from your front door, letting himself in with the key he had gotten from you so he could take care of your many houseplants when you were gone for a week. Tim walked into the kitchen with you running around trying to get everything done and wearing a very messy apron.

“Oh! Hi, honey, I didn’t see you come in,” you said while mashing the potatoes.

Tim gave you a soft smile and walked up to you. “Baby, why don’t you go get ready and I’ll finish up.” He took a wet cloth and started to wipe away any stray food that had landed on your face.

“But... tonight has to be perfect!” You said while mashing harder and sloshing milk everywhere. You felt eyes on you and made eye contact with Tim and he gave you the look. 

“Sigh, okay. Thank you.” You kissed him softly on the cheek and quickly left to get ready. You peeked around the corner to watch him. “Pie needs to come out of the oven in 5 minutes and I make homemade gravy so the recipe card is in my cookbook...” You stopped when Tim crossed his arms and stared at you. You looked away, embarrassed, and ran off to your room.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smoothed down the outfit you decided to wear. Three sharp knocks hit the door before Tim announced, “They are here!”

You ran to the door and opened it to see your twin and older brother standing in the doorway. 

“Hey munchkin,” your eldest brother said while giving you a big bear hug.

“You're squishing me!” you tried to say loudly but it came out muffled. Your older brother laughed, let you go, and pushed you to hug your twin. He made eye contact with Tim and stood in front of the both of you. “Who’s this?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, this is Tim... my boyfriend. Tim, meet my older brother Dean and twin brother Sam,” you said nervously.

The staring didn’t stop. Dean stared and Tim stared right back at each other. Dinner was very awkward. No one wanted to say anything for fear of what could happen. You nervously bit your bottom lip and moved your fork around the plate, a little too nervous to eat. 

“So Tim, what do you do?” Sam asked to try to break the tension.

“I’m a Sergeant for the LAPD,” Tim said, breaking his stare to look at Sam.

You heard Dean snicker next to you and you kicked him under the table. “Don’t do this,” you whisper-shouted at him.

Dean gave you a mean look and rubbed his knee. Dean turned his attention to Tim, who sat across from him at the table. 

“So Tim, you're a police officer. What are you going to do when you die on duty and leave our sister here?” Dean asked with an evil look.

“I don’t plan on ever leaving her. Ever,” Tim stated firmly as he stared right back.

“You don’t know that. And I don’t like the idea of my little sister being here heartbroken because you wanted to be Mr. Hero.” Dean sneered.

“Oh, like you left her and Sam when you ran away from home because of your alcoholic father?” Tim sneered right back. 

Dean’s face contorted into anger quickly. “I did that so I could provide a safe, healthy environment for my siblings."

“Um, let’s change topics shall we?” Sam interrupted. “Munchkin, could you pass the croissants?” 

“Fine, tell me, Tim. Have you ever killed anyone? You might be a danger to my little sis,” Dean stated while stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

You don’t know what happened after that, but there was lots of shouting. Doors slamming and you, sitting in your seat with tears in your eyes. As Dean left your house in a rage, Sam stayed to support you.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” Tim hugged you and kissed your head softly, repeating it over and over. Dean’s support meant everything to you... you didn’t know what you’d do if Tim and Dean could never get along. 

I just found this fic. Hopefully it will be good. It’s a Aldon fic.

It’s so criminal when you start watching a new show/movie, and realize after you are already in love with yet another fictional character, that there’s no fanfics at all.

I need people to start writing for Aldon Reese from Fubar and Patrick Jane from the Mentalist. Plssss

The Better, Not So Hidden Half

Part 2 of The Better, Hidden Half

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: After Tim decided he didn't want to keep you hidden any longer, you meet the rest of his friends (colleagues, as he prefers), but not the way he planned.

Warnings: depiction of minor injuries (Tim), fluff, grumpy!Tim, Smitty, mentions of drugging

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When Tim was infected by an unknown biological weapon, he told you that he wanted to stop keeping you separate from the rest of his life. You’re his better half, and he cares deeply about you and your safety, but that doesn’t mean you should be his hidden half. During his short stay in the hospital, Wade introduced you to Lucy Chen, Tim’s rookie, and John Nolan. Since then, however, Tim hasn’t done proper introductions or made any real changes. He has started wearing his wedding ring to work, though, rather than leaving it on a chain around your neck. Baby steps, maybe, but it’s progress.

Your phone rings while Tim is at work, and your breaths grow shallow when you see Wade’s name on the screen. The last time something happened to Tim, Angela called you; any time you see Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, or Talia Bishop’s names appear on your phone, your heart drops in fear for your husband.

“Hey, Wade,” you answer softly.

“Can you please come talk some sense into your husband?” he asks.

Wade's tone and accompanying sigh are all you need to hear to know he’s tired. Sirens have surrounded you all day, so you’re not surprised that something happened.

“About what?” you reply.

“Sorry for the surprise call,” he adds, “I know those can be concerning, so I’ll go ahead and tell you that Tim was in a minor accident, but he’s refusing to get looked at.”

“Shocking,” you joke. “I’ll be there soon. How is he?”

Wade begins to answer, but you hear Tim yell, “If I need a break, I will take one!” in the background.

“Sounds about the same as usual,” you say and answer your question. “See you in a few.”

“Thank you. You’re the best honorary cop I’ve got.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Sergeant Grey.”

When you walk into the Mid-Wilshire Station, Tim and Wade are nowhere to be seen. You see Angela waiting nearby, and she rushes to hug you after you wave.

“Are you finally here to meet everyone? Since someone decided that he needed to talk to you alone to heal last time?” she asks playfully.

“I’m here because Tim is injured and stubborn,” you answer.

“And he’ll still be injured and stubborn after you meet the boots who can’t stop talking about you.”

“Is he okay?” you whisper.

“He’s fine. Barely injured, I promise.”

You nod and thank her before she leads you toward a small crowd of officers. Talia says hello, and the three in long sleeves stand up straighter when they see you.

“Mrs. Bradford, nice to see you again,” Lucy greets.

“You too, Officer Chen,” you reply.

“Lucy, please.”

“You’ve met Lucy and Nolan – however brief Tim kept it. And this is my rookie, Jackson West,” Angela introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer with your handshake.

“So, you married Bradford?” he asks. “Why?”

You chuckle at the question but can’t answer your cliched answer of because I love him, and he’s really just a big softie under the sarcastic eye rolls and grumpy yelling before Nolan asks another question.

“At the hospital, you said less than five words to Tim, and he listened. No complaining, no hateful looks, just immediately obeyed. How do you do that?” Nolan inquires.

“Wait – how did you meet?” Jackson adds. “Let’s be chronological.”

Nolan nods in agreement, and you prepare to answer.

“Then I want to know your first thought of Tim. Before you met, just saw each other, whatever… what did you see that drew you in?” Lucy asks.

Angela and Bishop smile as your eyes bounce between the rookies and their never-ending questions. You can’t answer one before the next one is asked, and though you don’t feel the same, you can understand why Tim didn’t want you to meet them all at once.

“No!” Lucy exclaims. “Where did Tim propose?”

“The place where they met,” Talia answers.

Nolan turns quickly to yell, “You knew Tim was married! Why didn’t you mention her?”

“She’s not my wife,” Talia replies sarcastically. “Not my story to tell.”

“I would have talked about her because she’s my best friend,” Angela interjects. “But Tim threatened me.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Bradford,” Jackson says. “We’re just excited and shocked and have so many questions.”

“Mrs. Bradford?” a passing officer asks. “You’re too young to be Mom Bradford, and you’re not his sister…”

“I’m Tim’s wife,” you finish.

“This is Smitty,” Angela tells you.

She winks quickly, and you nod in understanding. You’ve heard plenty of stories about Smitty, and more than enough complaints when you’re alone with Tim. He seems unique, to put it lightly (and kinder than Tim does).

“You married Tim Bradford? Was he by any chance in possession of narcotics or mind-altering drugs when you met? Because it’s pretty easy to convince a woman to do something these days, just a little powder in an uncovered drink, you know,” Smitty continues.

“Smitty, have you drugged a woman before?” Nolan asks. His suspicion is evident in how he asks and the narrowing of his eyes.

“Well, Officer Smitty,” you begin. You nod at Angela, and her smile grows when she realizes you plan to play along.

Tim stands with a quiet grunt of pain. He stretches to the side to fight the growing stiffness and sees Lucy talking to a group of people. Smitty approaches the side, and Nolan steps back to reveal the focus of all of the attention. Tim doesn’t think twice and races out of Wade’s office to save you from the boots.

You address Smitty but don’t say anything more before Tim wraps his hand around your arm while the other grips your hip and pulls you backward. Tim moves you away from Angela and ignores the protests that follow your sudden departure. You don’t fight him as he leads you into Wade’s office. Wade looks up and mouths a relieved thank you.

“Tim, as much as I love meeting the people you pretend not to care about, would you please stop getting hurt and giving me an excuse to drop by unannounced?” you ask.

“I didn’t get hurt,” Tim argues.

His hands are still on you, so you turn in his hold to look at him. Several scrapes litter his left cheek, and you run a gentle finger under them. You can see that his shoulders are tense but you're grateful that his injuries seem to be limited to some stiffness and scrapes.

“What did Wade tell you?” Tim whispers.

“That you were being stubborn and not listening,” Wade mumbles behind you. “I’m surprised she believed me.”

Tim keeps his eyes on you but doesn’t comment further on his injuries or the rookies you just met. He looks down, and you follow his eyes to his hands. His left hand is wrapped tightly with gauze and bandages as he slides his right hand into his pocket.

“Had to take this off,” he tells you.

You extend your hand to accept his wedding ring and curl your fingers around it. After unhooking your necklace chain, you slide his ring on and keep it safe against your chest. Tim nods once it’s secure with you and pulls you to sit beside him. You lay a hand against his right cheek and smile as he leans against your hand. He leans in and kisses you quickly before glancing at Wade to ensure he isn’t watching.

“He’s seen us kiss before,” you remind Tim.

“And I will never let you forget it,” Wade agrees, focusing on the paperwork before him.

“No mind-altering drugs required,” Tim says with a small smile.

“Now I understand why you didn’t want me to meet Smitty.”

“I warned you.”

“Luckily, Angela introduced me to the rookies first, and I invited them over for dinner on Sunday. Wade, you and Luna are welcome to come, too, if you’d like,” you say.

Tim groans as Wade promises to pass the invitation on to Luna. You sit back carefully as Tim leans against you. He’s grumpy about your new connection with the boots but loves you. Tim meant it when he said he didn’t want to keep you hidden and risk wasting his life by separating from everything else that matters to him.

“Lucy won’t shut up,” he realizes with a dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, because I’m sure you carry half of the conversation as it is,” you tease. “Don’t forget how well I know you, Bradford.”

“As long as you don’t forget that I don’t like these people, Bradford,” Tim counters.

“You let Angela come over all the time. And don’t give me the whole ‘she scares me’ thing; you love her.”

Tim moves closer to you to whisper, “I love you more.”

“Then go get a full physical examination. Make sure all the handsomeness is still put together like it’s supposed to be.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Then maybe you don’t love me like you claim to. That’s why you leave your ring with me, right? Easier to bring women in when no one knows you’re married.”

Wade fails to hide a laugh before he covers it with a fake cough. Tim shakes his head but kisses you again before standing. You follow him to the door and thank Wade for the call. Tim waves everyone over, and Lucy beats the rest of them by a solid three seconds.

“Hi again,” she tells you.

“I’ll go see the medic if you rescind the dinner offer,” Tim tells you.

“You’ll go see the medic either way, so no,” you reply.

“We’ve decided a better way to ask questions, and we’ll give you time to breathe in the future,” Jackson says. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Jackson. I understand the excitement; not the shock because, I mean, look at him," you wave toward Tim and continue, "but it’s not every day that you meet Officer Grumpy’s secret wife.”

“Did you just gesture to me like I’m a game show prize?” Tim murmurs.

“Tim and I will be happy to answer all your questions at dinner. It was very nice to meet all of you, and if Smitty asks again, I was absolutely drugged.”

Tim drags you away once again, and Angela only hears him ask, “Officer Grumpy?” before the door closes behind you both.

You turn and place a hand under Tim’s chin. One touch, a smile, and a kiss turn Tim back into your loving husband. He didn’t realize that keeping you separate from his work life gave you a unique power over him because he’s never had to hide his love for you or the physical affection he’s grown to crave.

“Be careful,” you request softly. “And call me if they find any other injuries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim answers.

“Don’t,” you warn.

“You kissed me first.”

“Thanks for letting me be part of your life, Tim.” He nods and kisses you slowly, but you push him away to warn him, “Ask Angela to tell you about Smitty before he says anything about our relationship.”

“You talked to Smitty, too? Maybe I should start leaving you at home again.”

“I love you,” you call over your shoulder.

“I love you,” Tim replies.

He walks back into the station with two things on his mind: learning what Smitty thinks about you and Tim that was worth a warning and getting home to you. Your touch, kiss, and the soft return of his ring will always be the best part of Tim’s day, and even though he wears his ring more often now, you still pull him in because he needs you more than he’s ever needed the ring.

"Oh, my God, my parents are swingers!"

Description: Dick finds out about his parents extra-marital activities

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: Hella references to sex and threesomes, foursomes, extramarital activities, Y/N is bi, Bruce is bi

The manor was supposed to be empty. Tim and Duke were at some gaming convention and Cass decided to tag along. Damian was staying with the Kents for the weekend. Dick was meant to be home in Bludhaven and Jason was out with the Outlaws. Little Thomas and the twins were with Y/N's parents. Alfred took this as an opportunity to see an exhibit that he wanted to see and took the weekend off. Y/N and Bruce wouldn't've had Selina over if anyone was coming over, and they sure as hell wouldn't have let her in their bed if they knew Dick had forgotten his keys.

"Selina?" Dick asked, noticing that Selina was in the kitchen. She just wanted a cup of coffee after the night that Bruce and Y/N had put her through. She wasn't exactly dressed for company and wrapped one of Y/N's silk robes around herself tighter. 

"Hey, Dick," She tried to say as not awkwardly as possible. It's not like she just had sex with his parents or anything.

"Why are you here? Where your clothes at? Is Bruce cheating?" Dick asked questions one after another. He wasn't very sure what was going on but he was sure he didn't like it.

"Um-" Selina was a bit too discombobulated to answer but the hickies on her neck weren't helping the case.

"Dick, what are you doing here?" Bruce said walking into the kitchen with only his boxers. He got Selina her cup of coffee but when he turned to grab the mug from the cabinet, Dick gasped from the marks on Bruce's back. Bruce had a lot of scars from his time as Batman but these were fresh and looked more like nail scratches than injuries.

"You're cheating on mom?" Dick asked waving a finger at his adoptive father.

"No, I'm not cheating on your mother. Do you think I'm dumb?" Bruce spoke with wide eyes. He couldn't dream of his life without Y/N and he knew for a fact if he ever thought about cheating, Y/N might cut his dick off but in a loving way. 

"Oh, hey Dick, How's my eldest boy?" Y/N said coming around the corner in a silk nightie. Dick was confused and none of this was making sense to him in the moment. 

"Mom?" Dick called out, bracing himself against the counter.

"Yeah, Dick," Y/N responded handing, Selina cream, and sugar. Selina simply thanked her with a kiss on the cheek. 

"Why are none of you properly dressed?" Dick asked with his face burning a bright red. 

"See Dick when two people like each other very much and they want to share that love," Y/N tried to break it down for Dick as if he was a small child. 

"Oh my God, you guys are swingers. My parents are swingers," Dick rubbed his hands through his hair. He felt sweaty for some reason like his parents caught him having sex instead of the other way around.

"We're not swingers. We just enjoy extra company on occasion," Y/N tried to justify and she was probably doing a terrible job at it.

"Yeah, Dick. It's not always me," Selina spoke softly after drinking her coffee. Y/N lightly slapped her thigh and Selina simply smirked at her. 

"Selina, you are not helping right now," Bruce grumbled into his hands before walking around the kitchen to find bread before toast. There were only two things Bruce could make by himself, coffee and toast.

"What do you mean by that? What does she mean by that?" Dick regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. 

"Dick, sometimes your father and I have extra-marital affairs but together. What Selina meant is that we sometimes have relations with Oliver and Dinah, or Diana, or Hal Jordan, or Clark and Lois, etc," Y/N listed out a few too many names and Dick internally gagged. At this point, he just wanted to find his keys and leave. 

"That's the definition of swingers. I'm gonna leave now and pretend I never heard any of this," Dick said grabbing his keys. Selina waited until she heard the large door slam before speaking again.

"So, round four?" Selina asked while hopping on the counter and removing the robe. Bruce and Y/N made eye contact before moving towards the woman in between them and it was that day that Dick learned not to show up unannounced if he could avoid it.

Think Different, Love the Same

Requested by @keyera-jackson! I changed a few minor details but I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!activist!reader

Summary: When 20-Squad begins dealing with an activist group, Deacon falls for you, the group's leader.

Warnings: fictional activist group and charter school, mostly fluff, brief mention/depiction of making out

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“I’m calling the police!” a man yells in your face.

“Okay,” you answer calmly.

“Who is in charge of this- this collective stupidity?” he demands.

“I am. And our group is called Need to Know; we’re advocating for-“

“You’re advocating for a trip to jail. Get away from my store or I will call the police.”

“All due respect, sir, but this sidewalk is public property, and your store is not endangered by our presence. Civil protests and freedom of speech are not illegal.”

“Yet,” your friend and fellow activist group leader, Luke, mumbles.

“Forget it,” the store manager exclaims as he tosses his arms up. “You morons can’t be reasoned with.”

He storms off, and Luke rolls his eyes. Your group has staged more than six protests this month, and you’ve come to expect threats from people who don’t understand what you’re doing.

“Should we move?” Luke asks. “He may actually call the police.”

You shake your head. “We’re not doing anything wrong, and this library has repeatedly refused people with physical disabilities and cut hours. They make it practically impossible for people to learn anything here.”

“I get it, I do. But if he calls the police and they actually come, what then?”

“You tell me, Luke. The kids who can’t go to a library or find teachers and classes who are willing to create specialized lessons and one-on-one assistance… how do they learn to respond civilly to police officers? If the cops show up, consider it a teaching moment.”

Luke shrugs before yelling to the small crowd of Need to Know protestors to explain that the police may come. You want to demonstrate the importance of common knowledge.

Your group Need to Know is making information available to all, regardless of age, disabilities, learning inefficiencies, or when they have time. Los Angeles is just a hub, a symbol of the growing problem: inaccessibility to information and bias against those who need it most.

“He actually did it,” Luke mumbles when a police car stops by the curb.

“Who’s in charge here?” the first officer asks.

“I am,” you answer. You hand your sign to Luke and approach the officers with a smile. “How can I help you, officers? Is there a problem?”

“We’ve received a complaint that you are trespassing.”

“Aren’t sidewalks public property? We aren’t blocking any foot traffic, only using our voices to advocate.”

“I understand that, ma’am, but… Several store owners have called and are worried that you will move onto their property.”

“I can assure you that we understand the legality and will not trespass onto private property. What can we do to fix this issue?”

“Just-“

“Wait,” the other officer interrupts. “Are your cars parked in that private lot? Because that could be an issue.”

Several Need to Know members nod, and the second cop smiles as he calls for backup.

“I made a purchase at one of the stores this morning, and we have been into the library several times,” you explain. “A library at which we are all members. Can you charge us with trespassing while supporting a city library and local businesses?”

“Pipe down, lady.”

“There’s no reason for that, officer,” Luke interjects, not threatening in any way but firmly defending you.

“What was that?” the officer demands as he steps toward Luke.

“I only ask that you show us the respect we’ve shown you.”

“Need to Know,” the officer reads. “You may want to read just how much we do for this city. Everyone needs to know how to respect police officers, and that it’s our right to defend.”

“Your right?” Luke asks incredulously.

You raise a hand toward Luke to ask him to stop. “Precisely, officer. We’re simply trying to make that access available. Citizens do need to know how to respond to police officers, we agree on that.”

“Thank you for your time,” the first officer interrupts. He gestures for his partner to get back in the cruiser. “Just make sure this protest remains civil. Have a good one.”

“You too, officer. Thank you for all you do.”

Luke rolls his eyes as the police officers drive away. You take your sign back, holding it up and getting comfortable for another few hours of answering questions and accepting donations from generous library-goers.

Less than a few hours later, however, someone sets out to send you home early.

“I thought I told you morons to beat it!” someone yells.

You and Luke turn together, immediately recognizing the store manager who called the police. When he raises a sawed-off shotgun, you are forced to push your group back onto the private property behind you. Several of them run for their cars, but you remain in place as the man raises his phone to his ear.

“Yeah, I called earlier about trespassers. They’re back, and if you don’t deal with them this time, I will,” he says into the receiver.

“Sir,” you begin calmly.

“No! You said you wouldn’t disturb my shop, but nobody wants to come in when there’s a bunch of sickos out front with signs! Panhandle somewhere else!”

You can handle people targeting you personally but get defensive and angry when they bring your cause into their attacks. Luke widens his eyes in a silent warning not to start anything; you think finishing the argument sounds like a better idea anyway.

✯✯✯✯✯

“20-David, we’ve got a trespassing call at a local library,” Hicks calls.

“How do you trespass at a library?” Hondo inquires.

“Apparently there’s a protest going on, and the strip mall on the next lot has some less-than-impressed owners. Manager of a family-owned organic store just called and said he’d deal with them if we don’t.”

“Not exactly a reason for S.W.A.T.”

“No, but the calls from protestors saying that he has a gun and is threatening to kill the people in charge is.”

“Protestors?” Deacon asks. “So, we need riot control and to disarm an outraged citizen?”

“The protest has apparently been civil thus far,” Hicks explains. “But be prepared for everything.”

“Can’t argue with that. Let’s roll!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we sickos for wanting to teach the next generation?” you demand.

“Yeah, well every group like yours thinks they’re doing good, but you’re just making life harder for tax-paying citizens like me!” he yells, waving the gun.

“Man, just put the gun down and we’ll go,” Luke offers.

You see a large police vehicle approaching and are surprised to read ‘L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.’ on the side. Several uniformed men carrying riot shields exit the back door after it stops by the curb.

“L.A.P.D.! Put down the weapon!” Harrelson yells.

Patches displaying their last names are attached to their vests, and you try to read them all as you see them.

“Everybody put your hands where I can see them!” Luca requests.

You, Luke, and the remaining group members set your signs down and lift your hands. 

“This is a load of crap,” the manager complains as he sets his gun on the ground.

Harrelson pushes him onto the concrete and cuffs him while Luca and Kay move toward you with the weapons lowered.

“Need to Know,” Luca reads from a discarded sign. “Are you aware that you are on private property? It’s illegal to stage a protest without prior authorization.”

“We were on public property before this guy threatened us with a gun and pushed us back into his parking lot,” you argue.

Kay nods and asks, “Were you asked to leave while being on private property?”

“No. He told us to leave while we were still on the sidewalk, and he called the police, but once he got us back here, he just accused us of panhandling.”

“He’s not pressing charges,” Harrelson alerts. “Mostly because he can’t, but, you know.”

“Alright,” Kay says. You notice that his eyes are on you; yours are on his, too, so it’s not easy to miss. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What now?” you ask Luke. “The petitions for newer, safer libraries is going to legislative this week, we’re starting the first literacy course in a month… We have to keep going, but library protests aren’t cutting it anymore, Luke. We have to actually do something. Human rights issues, political issues, everything that people need to know seems to be blocked by the city. The bureaucracy wants to tell part of the truth and make sure the people who need knowledge most don’t learn.”

“That charter school that, what’s her name, Linda? The one that her kids just got pulled out of?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, Home of Hope or whatever. What about it?”

“She pulled her kids out because they refused to work with her son. He’s dyslexic and has some social issues, and they said he was difficult and simply couldn’t learn.”

“Get there, Luke.”

“Patience, grasshopper. That’s the epitome of what we’re fighting against, and the campus backs up to a public park.”

“You want to stage a protest beside a charter school?” you repeat. “I like that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What are you reading, Deac?” Street asks.

“It’s the website for the activist group Need to Know,” Deacon answers.

“The protest that we got called out to today. What’s so special about them?”

Deacon shrugs. “Curiosity got the best of me, I wanted to see what they were about.”

“Let me guess! Uh, need to know that cops should be defunded, or, no, need to know that women should or shouldn’t have rights.”

“Both wrong.”

“Men shouldn’t have rights?”

“They’re advocating for accessibility of information. The motto is 'Information for All,' and their mission is teaching people, young, old, disabled, everyone, how to find information they need.”

“What kind of information?”

“Human rights and political issues, financial literacy, home buying… what they need to live successful lives.”

“Impressive.”

Before Deacon can agree, Hondo yells for 20-David to roll. He looks into the situation room and smiles when he sees what Deacon is reading.

“Deac, we gotta go. Your friend over at Need to Know staged another protest, but this one turned violent. Even better, it’s on private property at a charter school,” Hondo says.

“Maybe not so impressive,” Street mumbles as he rushes toward Black Betty.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey!” one of the parents entering the school yells. “Just because you were homeschooled or bullied in private school, doesn’t mean you have to find an issue with every knew school your unpaid taxes help build.”

“Charter schools receive property taxes and state funds from district and state based on enrollment,” Luke explains. “Just like public schools. Those uniforms don’t set your kids apart, and the teachers are still just as lazy and unwilling to ‘deal with’ special needs students.”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know I was talking to a charter school expert. Whatever teacher you had a crush on, and she turned you down, just get over it man, there’s better ways to work through your feelings.”

“Luke, don’t,” you whisper.

Luke is just as passionate about your cause as you are, and when he drops his sign, you rush to grab his arm.

“Oh, you want to do this? Let’s go,” the parent says. “But I don’t think you have the knowledge to tell one end from another.”

“Actually, I’m advocating for idiots like you who don’t know what common decency is!” Luke replies.

When the parent runs toward Luke, he rips his arm away from you and throws the first punch.

✯✯✯✯✯

You can feel your heartbeat in your eye when the S.W.A.T. vehicle rolls up. This time, you don't wait for a command to kneel with your hands up as the team rushes toward the growing, fighting crowd with riot shields raised.

“L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.! Everybody on the ground now!” Harrelson yells.

“Luke!” you call. 

Luke’s knuckles are busted open, but he’s winning the fight. A fight that never should have started, but maybe it will at least put Need to Know on the map.

“Are you okay?” Kay asks as he approaches you and the small group of still civil protestors around you.

“I’m fine,” you answer shortly. “Pretty tired of seeing cops at what start as peaceful protests, though.”

He lowers his shield and smiles at your feistiness. When Deacon read your bio on the Need to Know website, he could tell you were a fighter and incredibly passionate; he didn't witness what the passion did to your attitude during the last call.

“Let me guess, you tried to break up the fight and one of them accidentally hit you,” he continues.

“Do I need a lawyer?” you ask.

“We’re taking everybody in until we get a handle on what happened here,” Kay answers.

“Then I’d prefer to answer questions after I’ve received my Miranda rights,” you explain. “Officer…”

“Sergeant Kay.”

“If that’s okay with you, Sergeant Kay.”

He licks his lips, as you suspect, to hide his smile before returning to his team to create a plan for getting everyone to the station.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You signed a Miranda waiver,” Sergeant Kay muses as he enters the interview room. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Lots of unexpected things happen,” you reply. “And most people can’t learn about them, if you can imagine.”

He sighs as he sets a folder on the table. Another officer steps inside, and you recognize him as Luca from the first time you saw them.

“Your written statement matches the story everyone else is telling,” Luca says. “So, either you all stopped fighting to talk and got your story straight before we got there, or you are the unluckiest activist group in the world.”

You lightly tap your bruised cheek and flinch before saying, “I think it is the second one. Two peaceful protests resulting in S.W.A.T. visits feels pretty unlucky.”

“Peaceful protests for what?” Deacon asks.

“Read the website.”

“Told you she was feistier today,” Deacon tells Luca.

“She wasn’t like this the first time,” Luca replies.

“She wasn’t in pain and desperate to see a semblance of change before,” you interject. “Look, if you really want to know what we’re fighting for, I am happy to tell you, but it seems to me that you’re just killing time to do something else. Run background checks on everyone involved, if I had to guess. But unless Luke or the guy who started the fight are pressing charges, you have no reason to hold me as anything other than a witness.”

“I would like to know what is worth all of this,” Luca says, offering a kind smile.

You nod. “I’m sorry for snapping, then. Our mission is basically to make sure that people are informed on basic knowledge. That there’s no bias or endless hoops to jump through just to find an answer or help.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Deacon asks.

Something in Sergeant Kay’s demeanor today makes you think he already knows about your mission… and you. More than that, he seems to agree with or support your cause. Maybe that’s why he smiled earlier.

“Open newer, safer libraries, improve hours for more accessibility, remove enrollment caps from schools, create unique and specialized education for people with disabilities or learning disadvantages. Everyone deserves to learn, especially the people who want to but don’t have the accessibility or opportunity to do so.”

“Then I can see why you’d choose a charter school with nothing to lose by turning people away,” Deacon says.

You lean toward him over the desk and bat your eyelashes as you reply, “I’m glad you see my point. Surely a guy like you can see the good that more education can do.”

Deacon’s eyes widen slightly at your brazen flirtatiousness; he suspects you would be hard to get, even if he wanted to do something. Which he thinks he may.

“Maybe you could tell me more then,” Deacon answers, failing to hide his smile.

“I’ll just, uh, give you two some room then,” Luca interjects.

“Actually, if I’m not being charged, I would like to go home now,” you request. Deacon nods and offers a hand; he helps you stand, and you look into his eyes to add, “Alone.”

Deacon watches you leave, and Luca claps his shoulder.

“Falling for an activist group leader is quite literally the last thing I expected from you,” Luca teases.

“Who says I’m falling?” Deacon replies before leaving and ignoring Luca’s laughter.

✯✯✯✯✯

You are having the first peaceful protest in weeks, and when someone threatens to call the police, you can’t refrain from sarcastically responding, “Ask for S.W.A.T. - 20-David.”

When Black Betty pulls up a few minutes later, you smile as Deacon exits the passenger side. He looks around before raising his eyebrows toward you.

“And you thought you weren’t making an impact. Sixteen calls in a week seem like progress,” Deacon commends. “Maybe not the publicity you want, but who better to change the narrative than an activist group?”

“Sixteen calls,” you exaggerate. “Maybe you should just follow us around then, Sarge.”

“While I wouldn’t be completely opposed to that,” Deacon replies, clearly reciprocating your flirting. “I’m sure you know just how much L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T. does in a day.”

“You’re saying all of that is more important than me?” you ask with a pout.

Deacon smiles as he steps back toward the vehicle. You wave as they leave, and Luke laughs at you.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“For what?”

“Getting in that fight. You and Sergeant Kay owe your connection to me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon rolls the window down and looks at you when he gets called to one of your next meetings. He knows you haven't broken any laws, and you'll comply, so he doesn't even bother to exit his car.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Depends,” Deacon replies. “Are you free tonight?”

“CUBO,” you reply.

“CUBO? For what?” he asks with a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure asking someone who you see almost daily to accompany you on a date would be considered conduct unbecoming an officer.”

“You’re not a criminal, though. No criminal record, no CUBO.”

“No dinner.”

“If it’s not because of the CUBO, then why not?”

“It’s not you, it’s me, Sarge. Ask me again after we actually make some progress with making education accessible.”

Deacon smiles and shakes his head before pulling away.

“Why are you making him work so hard?” Luke asks.

“I’m not. He doesn’t actually like me, Luke. Just the idea of someone doing some good; he’s a cop and a good person, so he likes that.”

“You think he’s a good person, yet you won’t get dinner with him,” Luke muses. “That should be illegal.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, there’s someone here to see you, Deacon,” Hicks says. “Activist group leader or something. You need anything?”

“No thanks,” Deacon answers as he wonders if it’s you and what you are doing visiting him.

If you are here to see Deacon, he thinks maybe you are finally realizing his feelings are genuine. He likes you, and, as Luca puts it, he’s falling for you, but you seem unconvinced every time he tries to ask you out.

“You asked for me?” Deacon asks as he steps into an interview room.

“I did. I wanted to let you know that Need to Know and the L.A.P.D., after many hours of mediation, have found a solution that benefits us both,” you explain.

“Being?”

“I am taking a step back from Need to Know because it is moving completely online. No more Los Angeles protests from us.”

“You’re backing down?”

“No, we’re just trying a new approach.”

“So, what now?”

“What 'what now,' Sarge? This is the end of me and Need to Know; they have my support but no more black eyes for me.”

“I mean, are you staying in LA?”

“For now, at least. Who knows where I’ll go next, there’s lots of activist groups in the world and surely one of them will need a leader at some point.”

“If you’re so insistent on standing up for the little guy, being a voice for the voiceless, why not become a cop or a special ed teacher? Something a bit more…”

“Tangible?”

“I was going to say hands-on, yeah.”

“Some people just aren’t cut out for that, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you around, Sarge.”

“Wait,” Deacon calls. “Moving the cause to a bigger platform has to count as progress. You said I could ask you to dinner after you made progress.”

“You don’t want me, Sergeant Kay. I’ll leave the do-gooding up to you.”

Deacon, once again, watches you leave. He knows that ‘maybe I’ll see you around’ means you will never see him again, so he has to accept that you are going your separate ways. He met you, though, and that was good.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Drinks are on me, who’s coming?” Hondo yells.

“I’m in!” Luca answers.

“Can’t turn down free anything,” Street adds.

“Deac? We need to get your mind off her, so you’re coming too,” Hondo says.

“Fine. But I’m not doing karaoke with Street again,” Deacon agrees.

“Just because I out-sang you,” Street taunts. “Admit defeat and move on, Deac.”

“Trust me, kid, I’m trying.”

Street shrugs at Luca, both aware that Deacon is no longer talking about karaoke.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luke, please don’t,” you request as he stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises before walking to the hostess stand.

“Deacon Kay!” someone yells across the room.

Your eyes raise immediately, and you accidentally lock eyes with the one man you can’t stop thinking about. Seeing him is a surprise, though not unwelcome. You smile, and he mutters something to Luca before setting his glass down and walking toward you.

“You did say I’d see you around,” Deacon tells you.

“I did. And here you are.”

“You, uh, you want to…”

“Go somewhere a little quieter?” you suggest.

Deacon nods, and you take his hand to lead him outside. You lean against the outside wall and wait for Deacon to speak.

“This is awkward,” Deacon mumbles.

“It could be worse,” you point out.

“How?”

You smile as you lean toward him. Deacon meets you halfway and grabs your waist as he kisses you. In all the moments you have spent thinking of him, you convinced yourself that he was the best man you’ve ever met, and now you are sure of it. More importantly, you believe his advances were genuine, his feelings as real as yours.

The door beside you opens, and you pull away from Deacon when someone gasps. Luke is staring at you with his mouth open, and Deacon’s team appears behind him with similar surprised expressions.

“Do you really like me?” you whisper.

Deacon gestures for Luke to close the door before looking at you.

“I really do,” he replies.

“Good.” You run your finger over his tie as you admit, “Because I really like you, too.”

“So, you’ve made progress, without sacrificing your feistiness, I may add,” Deacon responds. “Now what?”

“I think we try this. Surely there can be more to our relationship than protests and S.W.A.T. calls.”

“I agree.”

You smile, but Deacon kisses you again before you say anything more. Deacon moves you backward and presses you against the wall with his hand between your head and the bricks. Making out with Deacon in an alley was not how you expected this to go but Sergeant Kay is the best thing that has ever happened to you, perhaps even better than Need to Know making the national news.

“Wait,” you pant. Deacon pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you ask, “Is Deacon really your first name?”

“Is that relevant to trying this?” Deacon jokes as he slips his hand into yours.

THE GANG EXPANDS pt.2

IASIP x Reader

Always Sunny Masterlist

“Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview.” Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance on the stool.

Part 1 Here

Summary: You agreed to play Chardee Macdennis with the gang as a form of ‘job interview’. The level 3 card you pull poses the question of how far is too far?

Warnings/Tags: 18+ due to the very nature of the show. Canon typical themes including but not limited to misogyny, exploitation, abuse, derogatory language, drugs and alcohol, sexual themes, etc.

You read the level 3 card aloud, "You must do the hardest drug available to you. Players have 1 minute to search and present you with their findings."

Thinking that this game was most likely designed to be played on a weekend when it was more likely for someone to be holding, you sighed in relief. However your brief moment of safety was short lived as you watched everyone dispense and rummage around in their pockets — desperate to find anything that could be considered a hard drug.

Dee dug her contraceptive pill packet from her handbag and placed it on the table. It was a safe option, what would a harmless bit of estrogen do for a fellow fertile woman, huh?

Dennis reluctantly pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a small clear ziplock baggie with a single pill inside of it. "It's a perfectly legal prescription, calm down."

"But what is it though? It could be a fresh dose of date rape for all we know. How do we know it's not a roofie, huh?"

"Jesus Christ Deandra, no... It's an emergency melatonin for me to take if I decide to stay the night with a lovely lady at her house instead of mine."

Dee wasn't buying that crap. She wasn't buying it for one second.

Frank pulled out a penny, $300 in cash, a cracked piece of eggshell and a black jelly bean from his pocket, whilst Charlie pulled many an assortment of treasures; A Phillips head screw, a cashew nut, a crumpled up receipt and ball of lint that on second glances was definitely crawling across the bar table. Last but not least however, you watched him pull out a tab of acid from his jacket pocket.

"Wait, shit… I need that back!" Charlie said worriedly, leaning over Frank's shoulder to take back the receipt of all things. "I bought a dud goldfish from the pet store the other day. It's a rollercoaster of a story. I'll tell you later."

"Nope... I'm putting my foot down you guys. We can't make someone drop acid as a job interview." Dee slurred, attempting to stomp on the ground and almost losing her balance until you swung your arm out to stop her.

"You're right Dee. You're right." Mac hiccupped before raising his eyebrows in surprise of his own inner thoughts. “What if she dropped acid as an employee? Make it a team bonding exercise.”

FRANK LIES TO YOUR COLLEGE PROFESSORS

Dark!Dennis x Younger!Reader Series

Always Sunny Masterlist

Summary: After being mistaken for your father by a college professor, Frank plays along as he boasts that all three of his kids attended Penn. Only two of them graduated though. One was institutionalised. Oh! And two of them are fucking.

Warnings: Typical Sunny canon mayhem, mentions of incest???

Word Count: 1.0k

You were chatting with two of your psychology professors, talking about the possibility of continuing study. You’d never thought of doing your masters or getting a doctorate but they were both so adamant in telling you how bright and capable you were you started considering the idea. A brilliant mind, they’d said. A one of a kind student with incredible perspectives, they’d said.

Needless to say your stroked ego was massively inflated from all their compliments. Especially after they told you how much of a shoe-in you’d be for various awards, research grants and guest speaker slots. So, you told them you’d be open to discussing it.

Your professor furrowed his brows and looked behind you, smiling gently out of politeness as he looked back at you whilst you spoke. But then you noticed the Dean looking behind you as well.

Turning around to see what they were looking at, you nearly jumped out of your skin to see Frank chewing on a cold sausage. He had silently joined the conversation and stood eerily close to you, right in your blind spot. Wait, where the fuck did Frank even get that from? You were honestly just surprised you hadn’t realised he was there sooner. Normally you would have heard him loudly chewing with his mouth open, or smelt his usual musty egg aroma wafting over.

Your professor outstretched his hand to shake Frank’s. “My apologies, this must be your father.”

Before you could correct him and assure them both that this goblin of a man was not your father, Frank had already introduced himself so.

“Oh you bet your ass I am! And a proud father to three Penn students too…” He said smugly, sticking 3 of his fingers out and holding the half eaten sausage between his thumb and pointer finger. “Well, one got expelled but you know what they say about the first pancake of the batch…”

You laughed with Frank at his terrible joke to try and ease the obviously uncomfortable situation. Frank pointed over to the rest of the gang standing a few yards away.

“The one that looks like Larry Bird? She’s the one who got expelled for arson but the other one managed to graduate.” He pointed out.

“I’m sorry, did you say arson?”

You quickly interrupted to try and change the subject away from Dee. “Dennis studied psychology here too!”

“Oh yeah, he’s a bonafide psychopath. You’ll probably see one of his manifestos on the news one day.” Frank nodded, almost sounding proud of the fact.

He started to explain the long winded story behind Dennis ripping the heads off snapping the necks of several crows as a child. Dennis claims it was only to test the tensile strength of their necks though. Finally you interjected, trying to salvage the reputation of your ‘brother’ before Frank brought up the second crow. Or the third or fourth.

“Wow! That’s a story for another day…”

Your professor chuckled at Frank’s absurdity, still believing that this 4’10” man who claimed to be your father just had a severely dark sense of humour. “Well regardless of your other children, this one’s destined for great things in the world.”

Just when things couldn’t get worse, Frank ups the ante. He let out a deep belch and took another swig from the soda can he was holding — which was mostly just vodka at this point.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered under your breath, looking down at your feet and shaking your head in defeat.

Was it too late to admit this man wasn’t really your father? Could you pretend you didn’t know him at all? God, that would make you look even worse by showing that you associate yourself with him by choice. Quickly you pulled out your shiny new iPhone 3G and texted Dennis:

SOS!!

Dennis pulled out his BlackBerry, smirked at the message on the screen and looked over to you with a playfully raised eyebrow. You tilted your head down towards Frank subtly, looking at Dennis with a pleading look to rescue you from the conversation. Finally he cottoned onto what you were implying and started to weave through the crowd towards the group. You felt yourself sigh in relief knowing he was coming to save you from this hellish nightmare.

“There’s my little brainiac!” Dennis called out, putting his arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful squeeze. “Wait- Professor Szymancjek?! Holy shit, I thought you’d be dead by now. Damn… Good for you, man.”

The professor sighed and looked at her ex-student with an unappreciative look. “Hello again, Dennis.”

“And this is Dr. Morrissey, our newest Dean of Psychological Science.” You said, watching the two men shake hands politely.

Dennis apologised to the group, telling them that he had to whisk you away for a reservation at Guigino’s. Nice lie, you thought. Guigino’s was one of the best restaurants in town but it was a perfectly plausible reason to dine there. They’d totally believe that two siblings would enjoy a nice meal to celebrate one graduating college. It was a fool-proof lie.

Until Dennis went and ruined it by kissing you.

“Only the best place in town for my girl,” he had said proudly for turning your head towards him and kissing you at the very worse possible time.

Your poor horrified scholars looked on with disgust and disbelief because unlike Dennis (who was pretending to be your boyfriend in this scenario), they thought he was your brother. Frank swatted Dennis’ arm and told him to take it inside to the stadium bathrooms for a quickie, then laughed towards the dean and professor.

“Nothing like a good graduation bone, eh?” He chuckled, nudging one of the scholars with his elbow.

The cherry on top of what was already a heavily confronting and disturbing display of incest for the two scholars, was your ‘father’ now encouraging his son to go fuck his ‘daughter’ in the stadium bathrooms.

Great.

Just when you thought it really couldn’t get worse, Frank came in and proved you wrong. What a superb reputation to leave behind — the incestuous psychology grad genius who kissed both her brother, and her life away in front of their very eyes.

Lock and Key

Requested Here!

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

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

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

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty good,” you reply.

“Tim still… well, Tim?”

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

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

“Chen,” Tim snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More or less,” Nyla answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nyla nods, then looks at you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you inquire.

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

She turns to face you, and you nod sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Cruel world,” you murmur.

“Crueler people.”

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

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

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

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

“Noble,” you muse.

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

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

“How far along are you?” he asks.

“Four months or so,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

“Do that,” Pitbull demands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did amazing,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

THE GANG EXPANDS pt. 1

IASIP x Reader

Always Sunny Masterlist

“See, what I'm hearing is that you convinced some poor college kid into doing slave labour for us by bribing her with a coffee..."

Summary: When Dee meets a potential new hire for the bar, the gang decide to give you an interview. They decide the best way to determine if you’re a good fit at Paddy’s is to play Chardee Macdennis with you.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ References to sex, drugs, alcohol. Other topics commonly found in canon.

You had met Dee at an early morning Pilates class, and were quick to find you were the only two women under 50. You had innocently misread the timetable, whereas Dee had attempted to sneak in and copied your excuse after the instructor asked you both to leave. Not wanting to waste a free morning out or the opportunity to make a new friend in a new city, you invited Dee to get coffee with you.

When Dee mentioned that she worked at a bar her dad, brother, and brother's friends owned in South Philly, your ears pricked up with a mutually beneficial idea. See, you weren't a Pennsylvanian, you had only moved to the state to study short-term at Penn State. As part of the curriculum, you had planned for your thesis to be about local businesses and the psychology of fostering a strong team. Dee jumped at the idea. Almost too enthusiastically in hindsight but she really needed a little extra femininity in the bar.

"She's cool, and she's smart, and we don't have to pay her anything cos she has to do it for college." Dee explained to the gang, telling them about her ‘new friend’ proudly.

Dennis narrowed his eyes as he turned his head ever so slightly, all the while maintaining eye contact with his sister. His mind ruminated on several trains of thought at once, but his main focus was needing to know how old you were. Followed very closely by wondering how attractive you were.

Mac was the first to speak after Dee's several minute long monologue recap about her entire morning meeting you. "See, what I'm hearing is that you convinced some poor college kid into doing slave labour for us by bribing her with a coffee..."

"What? No! No, she's like, in her mid twenties at least. She's doing her masters degree..." Dee explained, putting extra emphasis on the latter detail. "I told her she could come here later tonight to meet everyone."

Dennis posed the question of whether or not the potential new recruit was attractive or not, to which Mac raised that an attractive woman working at the bar would be good for business. They were very clearly forgetting that Dee worked at the bar but none of them thought of Dee that way. She wasn't like a woman woman, let alone an attractive one. Clearing her throat loudly to grab their attention, they all turned towards her with looks of annoyance.

"Can't you see that the men are talking Dee?" Frank said before they turned back to talk amongst themselves. "You know me, I'm on the record for loving the idea of slavery. But we gotta' sus her out for ourselves."

Charlie made a whiny sort of hum as he thought to himself; which he aptly called his ‘thinking sound’ fairly often. "Should we do like, a background check to make sure she's not a psycho?"

"Ooh! Good idea, Charlie. We should stalk her Facebook page..." Mac clicked his fingers at the laptop as the pride he felt over his own idea. Was it not genius to search you online and see for themselves? To see if Dee was fucking with them over by hiring an ugly chick? He sure thought it was genius.

Reluctantly, Dee typed in your name slowly before Mac quickly pressed the enter button to bring up the results. “Is she the top one?” He asked excitedly, and after sighing slowly, Dee nodded.

"She's hired." Dennis said bluntly before leaning over the bar. "And if you'll excuse me, I have some background checks of my own to do." Then, without further explanation, took the laptop from the group and walked to the back office alone.