A Picture Of Happiness

Creepy, But Special

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x goth!fem!ME!reader

Summary: Tim sees a woman in a cemetery after dark and can't stop thinking about you. When he calls for the M.E. and you arrive, he gets a chance to find out more about you.

Warnings: spoilers for 5x22, r is an ME and performs an autopsy, mentions of past judgement and insults, fluff, Tim gets kinda flirty even while there's a dead body between them?

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: The request said shy reader, but she's pretty open with Tim so I didn't include it in the pairing dynamic. R is very professional with the other characters, though, so that could be considered shy, I think. And, as always, ignore the Chenford gif🤭

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Kojo, c’mon,” Tim urges as Kojo tugs the leash away from Tim.

Kojo has been taking his time on this walk, more of a stroll to sniff everything than a walk, but Tim is ready to get home. When Kojo returns to Tim’s side and begins trotting again, Tim rewards him with a whispered compliment: “There’s the best boy.”

As they near a cemetery, however, a cat meows inside the open gate, causing Kojo to stop again. Tim shakes his head but watches Kojo as his ears perk, and he looks into the narrow gate opening.

“No, Bazinga,” someone says from inside the fence. The cat meows again, and this time the voice - pretty voice, Tim’s mind corrects – laughs. “How are you going to do a séance if you can’t talk, Bazinga?”

Tim and Kojo step to the inside edge of the sidewalk for a better view. Tim should know better than to let his guard down here, but when he realized that the creepy cemetery cat had supervision, he needed to know more. Standing at the fence, he can see a gray blanket spread across a small clearing. You’re sitting on the blanket with a large book open across your lap. A black cat, Bazinga, presumably, roams around you before jumping onto your shoulder.

Tim can’t help but be intrigued by you. He can tell you're young in the dim light of a nearby streetlight. While he’s simultaneously drawn to you and put off by your odd choice about where you relax, Tim lets his logic win and snaps for Kojo to heel beside him. With one final glance at you, Tim leaves you in the dark but remembers your voice long after you ask your cat, “What do you think about the black cat stereotype and how well you fit into it?”

When Tim wakes the following morning, his first thought is you. Part of him wonders if he imagined you, a young woman dressed in black reading in a cemetery in the middle of the night, yet he can’t get you off his mind even as he rises and gets ready for work. Now that overtime has been approved, he has to focus on catching the masked individuals who attacked Aaron and Celina just hours after he saw you.

Once he hears Aaron and Celina’s statuses, it’s easier to forget you and your cat. When they find Roy Gracco and prepare to enter his house, Tim doesn’t even remember his previous cemetery-side walk.

Tim leads the alpha team into Gracco’s home, prepared for anything, but is surprised to find the house clear and cold.

“Drop the gun! Drop it!” he demands as he rounds a corner.

“I think he’s dead,” Nolan calls.

Tim approaches him slowly and confirms that Gracco is dead, 10-5-5.

“It’s a trap,” Nolan realizes aloud.

“Abort! Abort! Abort!” Tim yells. As he exits Gracco’s house, he radios, “Control, I need the bomb squad to the target house for a full sweep. Send the M.E. and TID out here, standing by for a priority search once the house is clear.”

“Yep, got it,” you reply to the police dispatcher.

Your work phone buzzes with a message containing the address where you’re needed. The van is prepped and ready to go, so you only grab your phone, keys, and seal-wrapped black coveralls. When you arrive at the house, dozens of police officers, crime scene investigators, and city officials are waiting.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask as you approach him. “Has the house been cleared?”

“Almost. Bomb squad’s doing a final walk-through,” he answers. “The officers who found the body are inside and ready to assist you.”

“Dispatch said the air had been cranked down to delay decomp. Do you know if anyone touched the thermostat?”

“No. Sergeant Bradford made sure the house stayed in the same condition as how they found it.”

“Perfect.”

“All clear,” one of the bomb squad members calls as he exits. “Your people are free to enter.”

“Hold up,” Grey calls to TID. “Let the M.E. get what she needs first.”

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder as you approach the front door.

“Hi, I’m Officer Chen,” an officer greets you as you enter. “Bradford, M.E.’s here.”

“Sergeant Bradford, I hear you preserved the scene and the body. Thanks,” you tell him as you set your bag down.

Tim doesn’t reply, too intrigued that you, a woman who hangs out in cemeteries with her black cat, is the M.E. That and your age, to be more precise.

“What’s the temperature in here?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Fifty-eight,” he answers quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughts and reminding himself not to stare.

“Fifty-eight,” you murmur as you scribble something on your paper. “Then I’m putting time of death between 1 and 2 a.m.”

“Before Aaron and Celina were ambushed,” Lucy says.

“How can you limit it to an hour?” Tim asks. Not because he’s overly interested in your method but because everything you say and do interests him. He wants to hear you talk again. To him, preferably.

“The air temperature and confinement slowed decomp but also affected the blood coagulation. Because of that, and knowing the average maintained temperature since death, I can calculate it with a bit more accuracy,” you explain.

Tim nods and looks at Lucy, who seems to know why he took a sudden interest in forensic science. He has a dozen more questions he’d like to ask you, very few of which are about the case, but you frighten Tim Bradford just enough that he falls silent to let you work.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say suddenly.

“Is everything okay?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, just this little guy.” You straighten and extend your hand to show Tim a moderately large spider. “There’s a web in that windowsill, he must have been confused by the temperature drop.”

You cup your hand as you walk toward the window and gently place the spider back on its web. Tim watches every little move you make, trying not to be convinced that you were in a cemetery and are still dressed in black merely because you’re creepy.

“So, based on positioning, lividity, and blood coagulation around the wound in his hand, I’m confident that my estimate of 1 to 2 a.m. today is accurate. More, I’d say that he was unconscious when both the bullets and the knife entered his body. There’s no sign of jerking or resisting, and the stiffness in his spine suggests that he’s been positioned like this for closer to a day.”

“A day?” Tim repeats. “How could he be in one position for nearly ten hours before being shot and stabbed?”

“Was he alive when he was stabbed?” Lucy inquires.

“Yes,” you answer her. “He didn’t react in any way to that pain and the lack of naturally dried blood around the wound, so he was likely already in a state of statis. His heart rate was likely low, the temperature was impeding the healing process, and, as I’m sure you know, bullet wounds don’t close on their own.”

“Then why lead us here?” Tim wonders.

“This is related to the cops that were attacked this morning?” you ask. “I heard about the riddle.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Tim asks.

“I don’t think you’ll find much in this house other than him.”

“I agree.”

“If Gracco is a patsy,” Lucy interjects, “then we should be asking why him?”

“He’s a felon with a history at Mid-Wilshire,” Grey answers as he walks in.

“Sure, but there are hundreds of guys like that. So, why Gracco? Did they pull his name out of a database or is there some kind of connection?”

“You think it’s personal?” Tim asks.

“Look, if I was gonna go to the extreme of targeting police officers, why not take out some of my enemies along the way?”

“That’s gotta count as a goth point,” you murmur.

“Costs us nothing to run with that,” Grey points out. “Get back to the station, check Gracco’s known associates, family, coworkers, anyone he did time with that might hold a grudge. Run them against people that we arrested. And say a prayer while you’re at it.”

“Actually, Grey, can I escort the M.E.?” Tim asks.

You look up from your spot on the floor, and Tim looks away quickly because he suddenly thinks that in that position, you look like a cat.

“Do that,” Grey agrees. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Chen, Nolan and Harper are at the station and ready to assist you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies as she exits.

“Why do I need an escort?” you ask once you’re alone with Tim.

“Because we don’t know what we’re up against and I don’t want to find out the hard way that we’re closer than we think,” he answers.

You nod as you stand, then remind Tim that you have to prepare the body to take back to the morgue. He nods and steps aside, hands clasped, happy to watch you.

“Got it,” Tim says into his phone. “Pine’s got Metro mobilized; do you need me to come back?”

You pull your gloves on as Tim ends his call. He steps toward you and says, “I’m clear to stay with you.”

“Why?” you ask.

“All of our bases are covered. So, if you find something, we need to know.”

You shrug as you concede. It’s not that you don’t want Tim with you; you are confused about why a decorated Metro Sergeant would want to keep you company while you perform an autopsy.

“If you want a mask or anything, they’re in the black case behind you,” you tell him.

“Of course it’s black,” Tim muses.

“Meaning?” you inquire as you mark your incision points.

When you look toward him, Tim gestures to your outfit. You certainly don’t dress like other medical examiners. Or act like them, for that matter.

“What do you have against black?” you tease. “Or are you just jealous of the Converse?”

Tim smiles as he tips his head and replies, “I would rock some studded black Converse, right?”

“Totally. I’ll hook you up with my shoe guy. He might want to see you in the heeled version first, though.”

“So, why’d you become a medical examiner?” Tim asks as you begin the first cut in Gracco’s chest.

“What do you think?”

“Love for science?” Tim guesses.

You lift the scalpel and narrow your eyes at Tim. “Most people just assume I’d like to dig around in dead people.”

“Why? Because you wear black and pick up spiders?”

“Amongst other things.”

“What other things?”

You shake your head and argue, “You have to tell me something about you first.”

“I like the Dodgers.”

“Wow,” you drawl. “Mark me as shocked and surprised.”

“I’m a cop, there isn’t much time to do things worth telling.”

“Fine, I’ll go first but you better have something when I’m done.”

“Yeah, of course. Just, one more thing. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Don’t you dare say oh, you look older, or wow, you must be smart, I really can’t take hearing that again.”

“I didn’t think you must be smart. You clearly are,” Tim replies.

“Good answer. You still want to know about me?”

Tim nods, and you tip your chin down to continue the autopsy as you speak.

“So, you can tell that I like black and spiders… I feel most alive in the fall, Halloween is my favorite day of the year. And cats! They’re much better than spiders because you can watch horror movies and Beetlejuice with them, and birds bring out their violent sides. But cats will also read witch books with you and listen to music, hang out in cemeteries. All the stuff that gets you labeled a ‘creepy weirdo’ is more fun with a cat.”

“Has someone called you a creepy weirdo?” Tim questions.

“More times than I can count. But I have another list that’s longer.”

“A list of what?”

“The coolest tattoos I’ve ever seen.”

Tim hesitates before he asks, “On dead people?”

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Most of them are on live people, though. They’re not as cool when the skin underneath isn’t moving or filled with blood.”

“Interesting.”

“Is this where you call me a creepy weirdo?” Tim shakes his head, and you add, “I guess I’ve just always felt drawn to stuff like that, and it makes me happy, so why should I care what people say about that?”

Tim leans against a table across the morgue from you as you continue to work. He asks a few questions as you work, but the autopsy is as simple as expected. Gracco was killed. There’s no additional evidence about who killed him or why, and his body is relatively clean and well-preserved.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” you tell Tim as you discard your gloves. “If it was a full moon I may have been more help.”

“Because you like full moons, I assume.”

“It was actually a weak werewolf joke, but yes, I do.”

“Does Bazinga?”

You freeze beside Tim before you look up at him to ask, “How do you know my cat’s name?”

“You said it,” Tim answers.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Not today, uh… I saw you in a cemetery a few nights ago.”

“I knew there was someone out there! Bazinga thought it was a ghost.”

Tim nods, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. You both want to keep talking, but there’s something Tim can’t ask, and you aren’t sure you can answer. So, you trace the shape of a crescent moon on your wrist to encourage yourself.

“Will you go out with me?” you ask quickly.

Tim opens his mouth to answer, but you add, “You don’t have to! If I’m misreading this or you’re just being nice and really do think I’m crazy, I understand.”

“I’d love to,” Tim answers when you fall quiet. “Maybe Kojo and I could join your next cemetery picnic.”

“You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“Really creepy,” Tim answers dramatically. “But you like it, so I’d like to see why.”

“What’s your shoe size? I’ll bring you some black Converse.”

“With studs?”

“Wouldn’t you be the stud?”

Tim laughs as he follows you into your office, but his phone rings with an update from Sergeant Grey and he quickly exchanges numbers with you before he leaves. Later, you remember that you never asked who Kojo was, and the picture Tim texts in return to your question makes you smile in your lonely office.

“How nervous are you?” you ask as Tim and Kojo meet you outside the cemetery.

“Probably not as much as I should be,” Tim answers with a smile. “Just don’t tell me we’re eating with someone, uh, someone in there.”

“No, of course not.” You open the gate and joke, “We’ll ease into that.”

“Where’s Bazinga?”

“Bazinga is a cat. In the picnic basket.”

You help Tim spread your favorite blanket on the grass and join him and Kojo as you set the food out. Tim watches you and realizes you’ve never been creepy, scary, or a weirdo. You’re special and if this spot beside you has been left open for him by people underestimating or judging you, he’ll make sure you know how special you are.

All That Matters

Requested by anonymous: "Alright, could you write Luca with a younger reader (25-28 yes old). She's super sweet and bubbly, basically just a sunny disposition. People think she's too young for him/he's too old for her, like especially her family. She grew up really seeking their approval, like she has a problem trying to make other people happy even if it leaves her exhausted, sad, or uncomfortable. but she won't compromise her happiness this time for anyone because she really loves Luca. Sorry if that's too much. I really love your writing" AND a request that I lost about Luca meeting his shy/innocent girlfriend on the beach and keeping their relationship private

Pairing: Dominique Luca x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, brief angst, parental judgement

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, anon! And sorry to the other anon whose ask I lost; I hope I remembered the gist of it. :)

“What’d you think of that one, sweetheart?”

Luca looks up from his surfboard when he hears the question. It sounds wrong like the man in the wetsuit is calling someone sweetheart when he shouldn’t be. The word is dripping in condescension, and Luca is prepared to stand up for the woman being addressed with the sarcastic and likely uninvited pet name.

“It was really good!” you reply, smiling brightly.

Immediately, Luca regrets turning his attention away from his board. He’s quickly convinced he can never get it back from you. You playfully shove the surfer, who grips his arm like he’s in incredible pain. At least she’s okay, Luca thinks as he tries to focus on prepping his board for his morning surf.

“Peters was looking at you again,” the man with you complains.

“Why?” you inquire, using your heel to trace a shape in the sand.

With a sigh, he replies, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back in. Pay attention long enough to give me some honest feedback?”

“You’re always good,” you assure him. “But I’ll try.”

Luca stands and lifts his board while your friend runs into the surf again.

“Good morning,” you greet as he nears you.

“Morning,” Luca replies with a smile. “How’s the surf look today?”

Nodding, you look at the water and say, “Good. Offshore breeze should help, water’s glassier than it was yesterday, and the wave shapes have been nice.”

“You know your stuff.”

You look down at the sand, and Luca decides then he’d love to get to know you.

“I’m Luca,” he says, dropping the end of his board to shake your hand.

“Luca!” your friend calls as he returns from a wave you didn’t witness. “I thought I recognized that board.”

“And I should have recognized the hair,” Luca replies, fist-bumping him.

“How do you two know each other?” you inquire.

They both look pointedly at their boards, and you roll your eyes.

“Better question is, how do you two know each other?” Luca questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” you explain. “He’s trying to ‘get me out of my shell.’ His words.”

“It’s working!” he defends. “You wouldn’t have talked to a stranger on the beach six months ago.”

You lower your voice to confide in Luca, “That’s true.”

“Excuse me,” your neighbor asks, marching toward a surfer you recognize: Peters.

“He doesn’t like Peters looking at you?” Luca deduces.

“I don’t know why,” you say with a shrug. “Good luck surfing. Or have fun, whatever the right phrase is for non-competitive wave riding.”

“Either works. And between you and me, it’s because you deserve better than Peters.”

You look down again, but you’re smiling, so Luca decides to use this opportunity like a perfect wave and ride it for as long as possible.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” he proposes.

Looking up, you answer, “I’d love to.”

That evening, Luca glances at his watch while Street and Tan argue about which restaurant makes better cheesecake. He needs to leave now, or he’ll be late to your first date, and while you seem incredibly sweet and would probably understand, that isn’t how he wants to start a relationship with you.

“Guys, I’m gonna head out!” he calls, pointing over his shoulder.

“What? Why?” Street inquires. “We’re going to your favorite place!”

“You don’t know what my favorite place is, Streeter. And the waves are going to be perfect in the morning, so I need some rest. Have fun!”

After he leaves his team, he meets you at an oceanside restaurant and takes your hand as you’re led to a table on the deck. The more you talk and open up, Luca realizes that you’re not only sweet, you’re downright bubbly, and possess a sunny disposition about everything in the world. Yes, you’re innocent and can be shy, but you open up to Luca. He knows he was right this morning, and he needs to know everything about you.

Four Months Later

“Pretty dress,” your mother compliments at family dinner.

“Thank you! Luca got it for me,” you reply, holding the skirt as you look down at the dainty details lining the top.

“You’re still with him?” your father inquires. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re happy but you are too young for him.”

Your mom lays her hand on his arm as she amends, “He’s quite a bit older than you.”

You swallow harshly, fighting the urge to do something that will regain their approval. You’ve been trying to make them happy your entire life, and when they continuously bring up the age difference between you and Luca, it makes you sad.

“Why don’t you go out with that neighbor of yours?” your mother suggests. “The surfer with the pretty hair?”

Because then you’d complain there’s too much sand in my house. Rather than voicing that opinion, you remind her, “He has a fiancé. And she’s one of my best friends.”

“Maybe I can set you up with a son of one of my buddies,” your father says.

You nod, picking at the appetizer on your plate with no trace of your usual smile. Being aware that you’re a people pleaser doesn’t make dealing with the emotions of disappointing someone any easier.

“I’m happy,” you say softly.

“For now,” your father grumbles.

You decide to change the topic, and as the night goes on, the heaviness in your stomach seems to weigh you down. When you return home, you’re inexplicably exhausted, sad with yourself and your parents, and uncomfortable. You never feel like this with Luca because he accepts you for who you are and doesn’t take advantage of your tendencies to do all you can and more for others. It’s one of the many reasons you love him.

As you lie awake in bed, you make a decision. Your happiness is the only thing that matters. And starting now, you will not compromise your happiness or relationship for anyone. You’ll do it for yourself and for Luca.

“How’d your dinner go?” Luca inquires, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You shrug, and Luca brushes his lips against your temple.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” you admit. “But I don’t want to put us at risk to do that.”

“Do you care about the age gap?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s what’s important. Everything is up to you. I know it’s not easy to hear and even harder to put it into practice but doing what makes you happy is the only way you’ll get what you deserve. You’re sacrificing yourself for others.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t accept that you make me happy. They don’t care that I love you.”

Luca’s brows raise as he smiles. You realize what you admitted but can’t ask if he’s okay with you saying it before Luca pulls you into a hug that makes all your worries and discomfort disappear.

Luca’s phone buzzes during a sparring match. When he remembers that you are one of the few people who can reach him while he’s at the station, he calls timeout. Ignoring Street’s protests, he lifts his phone and reads the message.

“I gotta go,” he tells his team. “Family thing.”

“You’ve been having a lot of family things,” Deacon says.

“Just tell us what’s going on, man,” Hondo invites. “You know we’re here for you. Don’t have to keep sneakin’ off if you let us help.”

“I…” Luca hesitates, then says, “I don’t know if you can help me get my future in-laws to like me.”

Deacon and Hondo’s jaws drop, and Street snatches Luca’s truck keys out of his hand.

“We’re meeting her right now,” he declares. “Wasn’t a question either, and I can beat you if you try to take these keys back.”

“She’s not feeling great right now,” Luca argues. “Next time.”

Tan pulls Luca’s phone from his hand and taps the message. Luca tries to get his phone back, but Hondo reaches it first. Lifting it to his ear, he raises his hand toward Luca and says, “It’s ringing.”

Luca stops. He’s almost sure you will hang up when you realize it isn’t him calling, but Hondo has a way of disarming people, and you already see the best in everyone you meet.

“Hi,” Hondo greets. “My name is Daniel Harrelson; I work with Luca.” He smiles and holds Luca’s gaze as he says, “Yes, I am Hondo. And Luca is fine. My team and I just wanted to ask if we can finally meet you. Luca hasn’t said a word about you.”

Hondo ends the call a moment later and returns Luca’s phone without a word.

“She said she’ll have coffee and desserts ready when we get there.”

“Watch him,” Deacon warns Luca.

“Alright,” Luca says. He chuckles and shakes his head before inviting his team to follow him to your house. He doesn’t mention that you’re young, sunny, or nearly perfect, but he’s sure they’ll realize quickly. If they disapprove of the relationship, Luca may have to make the hardest decision of his life.

Hondo, Deacon, Street, and Tan watch as you greet Luca at the door. They realize imediately that Luca is in love. Not like the love he’s claimed to be in before, but really, truly, madly in love. What makes Deacon smile is that you are, too. Three of the four men on your walkway don’t notice that you’re younger than Luca, at least not right away. The fourth notices, but only to make well-meaning jokes and take jabs at Luca while they bicker.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say after introductions. “Luca’s told me a lot about you.”

Luca cuts in before Hondo can remind you that they haven’t heard about the relationship.

“We kept the relationship private,” he explains.

“He means he decided to keep me from any possible judgement,” you explain. “I’m getting enough grief from my parents about the age gap without inviting more people to comment on it.”

“I mean I wasn’t going to say anything,” Street begins.

“Then don’t,” Deacon interjects. “He’s kidding.”

Tilting your head, you look at Street, then say, “You’re funny.”

“If you ever get tired of Luca or he throws his back out surfing or something, I’m right here.”

“And you said I’d have to worry about Hondo,” Luca murmurs to Deacon.

“What is that wonderful smell?” Hondo inquires.

“Maybe it’s both of them,” Deacon replies.

“I made some scones, chocolate chip muffins, and brownie bites this morning,” you remember excitedly. “There’s also fresh-brewed coffee. Follow me.”

Luca watches as his team gets to know you. They support the relationship - which they ensure they voice to Luca upon returning to the station - and clearly appreciate your sweet and bright personality. It’s a welcome light in their sometimes dim day-to-day lives.

“So, what are you doing about the parents?” Street inquires as he reaches for another brownie. “If you decide to cut them loose, Deacon and Annie would probably adopt you.”

You look to Deacon, smiling as you expect a deadpanned response that will make you laugh.

“Annie’s going to love you,” he begins. “So, I actually don’t have a response to that because it probably would happen.”

“I think you should just introduce Luca to your parents,” Hondo says, breaking a muffin into smaller pieces. “If we can see how happy the two of you are together, anyone can.”

You look to Luca and decide to do just that. It won’t be an overnight change, but if they see that you love him, they’ll grow to accept him. You and Luca are the only people that matter in your relationship, and you’re happy with him and him alone.

“When’s your birthday?” Tan asks. “We’ll add it to the calendar.”

“What calendar?” you ask.

“The family calendar,” Luca tells you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said if they like you you’re stuck with them.”

Smiling, you ask, “What else is on the calendar?”

“Not your parents’ birthdays!” Street exclaims from the living room, looking at your pictures.

Plss write abt dennis and younger reader when they are in a relationship

BEING UN-DENNIS-ABLE

Dennis Reynolds x Younger Reader

Always Sunny Masterlist

Authors Note: There’s so much I have planned for Dennis and Readers rollercoaster of a relationship I figured I’d start with a bit about their first date and first little romantic interactions. I hope you like it !!!

Also that photo of shirtless Glenn makes me want to bark

Warnings/Tags: Usual behaviour from the gang, Dennis being a bastard man, misogyny, narcissism, sexism, plus surprise appearances from Mac’s mom and Artemis hehe

Word Count: 4.4k

Dennis Reynolds does not do relationships.

They’re messy. They’re draining. They’re restrictive and quite frankly, Dennis didn’t want to deny himself of all the potential hotties out there that he hadn’t met yet. So, he was always in the dating pool and open to the next manipulation opportunity.

He was a difficult man to tie down simply because he didn’t want to be. Yeah, some of the perks that came with having a girlfriend were attractive to Dennis, but the overall concept of being in a relationship was enough of a deterrent to happily sacrifice those benefits. He’d convinced himself he was better off single anyways.

Dating you was different because unlike the rest of his sexual conquests, he found it impossible to complete the D.E.N.N.I.S System. He couldn’t separate entirely. You were basically a part of the gang now, especially after you’d struck up a deal with Frank to become an ‘employee’ of Paddy’s Pub.

"Hey Frank, can I ask you something kinda private?" You asked after knocking quietly on the open office door to get his attention.

Frank screws his face up and looks at you from behind the desk. "Woah, hey kid… I ain’t into chicks your age alright?”

“What?” You exclaimed in disgust. “No! I need advice from you. Jesus, Frank..."

"Advice? Ohhhh... Like fatherly advice? Cos I totally get your Dad skipped town and left you all alone but I’m not the role model you should be looking up to. I ain’t a good person.”

"My dad didn’t leave me Frank, he died when I was three. I barely even remember him.” You shrugged casually. “Besides, you being a shitty role model is exactly why I came to you. Someone who's financially corrupt and has successfully gotten away with tricking the government.”

“Say no more.” Franks grins, kicking his legs up on the desk and pulling out a cigar case from the top drawer. “What are we talking?”

“Tax evasion.”

Before he could cut the tip of the cigar he burst into laughter at your response. “Why?”

You explained to Frank about how your family trust fund worked and the conditions that were set around accessing the millions of dollars in their estate. As long as you and your cousins had a ‘proper’ job and received some sort of legitimate government-taxable income, you could access the trust.

One of your cousins insisted on becoming a filmmaker instead of going to college and wanted to access the trust fund to pay for the production. Your aunt was firm that until his little project actually turned a profit, he’d have to get a job and work in the meantime. Now, he’s a thirty two year old aspiring filmmaker without a single completed project and working at a fucking vape store in Los Angeles.

His sister wasn’t much better. She had zero ambition or drive to make a life for herself. Her financial plan was to meet someone richer so she didn’t have to worry about it. She was a fucking moron, the whole family knew it. Her parents paid for a building just to get her into Stanford her grades were so bad. Credit where credit is due though, that’s where she met her equally as dumb yet uber-rich husband.

“How much do you need to earn for them to count it as a job?” Frank asks out of curiosity.

You shrug, “Anything with a payslip I guess. It doesn’t matter so much about what the job is, it’s more so they know we’re doing something productive with our lives each day instead of blowing all the cash and doing nothing.”

“Tell you what. I’ll put you down in the books Paddy’s and say you work here.“

“Really? That… Was easy...” You were a skeptic. “What do you want in return, huh?”

Frank was a businessman at his core, he knew never to enter a negotiation unless there was some sort of benefit to him. For the average Joe in this situation, they’d demand money but Frank has more money than he possibly needs — as do you.

“What do I want? How am I s’posed to know? You’re putting me on the goddamn spot here, kid!” Frank defended. “Just- You owe me one… I’ll cash in the favour whenever an opportunity comes up.”

That was how you (kind of) ended up working at Paddy’s with the gang.

The first four years of knowing you were tricky for Dennis because you were under 21 and the gang had enforced a rule amongst themselves to be better influencers around you to not taint your young, impressionable mind. Plus you weren’t legally allowed in the bar so you didn’t seen them as often as you did now.

Dennis assumed that once you were 21, it was open season and he could manipulate you at his full potential. You were basically in an incubator period from 18 to now, so Dennis had strategically been making ‘deposits’ until you had reached full maturity. And now that you had, he was ready to make a hefty withdrawal.

Except you knew that he just wanted sex. You weren’t dumb. You still flirted with him for those 4 years sure, but you knew exactly what he wanted from you in the end and wanted to see him work for it. You knew how his usual tactics worked because he’d always boast about his sexual conquests at the bar.

Much to his chagrin, you weren’t all over him or begging to bang the second you turned 21 which drove the man crazy. His usual tactics worked with women who didn’t know him, but he had to work a lot harder to win you over because you knew what he was like. He had to create a new strategy.

A new system.

After about 6 more months of sexual tension, you finally agreed to go on a date with him. It was one of the rare moments that Dennis was thrown off his rhythm when it came to women, which only intrigued him more about you. After he’d pulled his classic ‘oh no the restaurant is closed’ ruse, he suggested that you both go back to his apartment for takeout and a movie instead. He’d started the date off strong by getting you back to his place this easily, so he was confident the rest of his process would unfold as planned.

Cool, calm and collected.

You hadn’t been inside Mac and Dennis’ apartment since the drunken one night stand you had with Dennis. It was weird to be back inside because as much as it seemed sort of familiar, it still so foreign because you hadn’t really remembered that night and rushed out the next morning.

“Mac and I rented a bunch of DVD’s yesterday so it’s kinda perfect timing to have a movie night.”

The term ‘movie night’ was thrown around so often amongst the gang that sometimes Dennis found it hard to keep up with which movie night was which. It meant different things depending on who said it, and in what context. You know, like how words work? Whatever, it was Dennis’ problem not yours.

For example, when Frank ever referred to movie night, it meant one of two things:

1. The gang had invited him (on the rare occasion) to their existing group movie night arrangement.

2. He and Charlie were having a ‘Gruesome Twosome Tuesday’.

You see, it’s the way you say it that suggests innuendo. Saying movie night plain and simple doesn’t hint toward there being any other meaning. Movie night however, gave the impression that it’s not to be taken by its standard definition. That is was in fact, not the usual movie night.

Look at Sweet Dee next. If she said movie night, it meant that she had somehow weaselled her way into the boys movie night. More often than not, it was by eavesdropping on their conversation and assuming she was invited when she wasn’t. When she said movie night, it meant she was using it as an excuse to bang some guy on a first date without having to leave her apartment. A low effort win-win for her.

When Mac or Charlie said movie night, it meant it was one of the regular guys nights where Charlie went to Dennis and Mac’s apartment with a case or two of beers and hung out as they always did. Those happened multiple times a month. If either of them were talking about movie night though, it meant that Dennis had granted them access to one of his sex tapes to watch as a special treat.

Dennis had planted the idea of finding Bigfoot in Frank, Mac and Charlie’s heads earlier that day. All he had to do was look at his phone and say ‘holy shit there was a Bigfoot sighting in the Poconos’ and they were off on an impromptu camping trip. Mac wasn’t home which meant Dennis had the apartment to himself and now, he had a lovely lady to share it with.

“Let me guess…” Dennis said narrowing his eyes at you and pressing a finger to his lips as he pretended to read your mind. “Romantic comedy?”

“A rom-com on a date… How original,” you laughed with a playful eye roll, leaning against the back of the sofa and sipping your drink.

“Okay, how ‘bout a horror then?” He asked, resting his arm along the back of the couch, subtly bridging the distance between the two of you and chuckling. “Unless you’re too scared…”

Scary movies were the back up option for Dennis, but that was only the first detour. It was fine, he was smart enough to know the best manipulators accounted for deviations from the plan like this. Besides, watching a horror film meant that he could play the protective masculine stereotype instead of the in-touch-with-his-feelings guy. Both stereotypes worked with women so again, the plan was still on the right track.

He thought that at the inevitable jump scares, you’d curl into his side and cover your eyes. He’d then suggest turning it off, not wanting to cause any nightmares for you of course. You’d insist you wanted to keep watching and he’d say how cute you were when you were being brave — a comment laced with patronising undertone but he’d say it before leaning in for the kiss so you’d be focused elsewhere. Then? Well, then the second step of the D.E.N.N.I.S System would be nicely progressing.

Except you didn’t get scared, you laughed.

Fuck. Dennis had to pivot his strategy again. Shifting his approach to make fun of the movie with you instead, both of you made snarky comments throughout the film. He usually did that sort of thing with Mac, so naturally he was throwing out quips with ease. Each of them just as funny as the last.

And you know what? You were pretty fucking funny too. It surprised him, which it shouldn’t have because he knew your sarcastic sense of humour was predominantly witty, but he was just pleasantly elated that you could keep up with him. He was so just used to Mac’s dumb Austin Powers references and out of context Borat jokes said at the worst moments that it was nice to not have to deal with that for once.

After the movie ended, you were both pretty intoxicated and Dennis had made you laugh for hours on end. He was sure you’d be begging for his cock by now — he played a great game. He had you like putty in his hands. Add in the fact that you couldn’t drive home mixed with living 45 minutes away, and he had the perfect recipe to have you to stay over for the night.

Unfortunately for him, you politely declined. “I have an early morning tomorrow so I’ll get a cab home, it’s okay. Thank you for tonight though, I had fun.” You said slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading out to the hall.

“You’ll text me when you get home, yeah? I want to make sure you’re safe.” Dennis said with a charming grin, resting his arm up against the door frame to physically stand over you. Power move. He’d have loved to try to convince you to stay but that would have come across as pathetic. Only little bitch boys begged a woman for sex, real men convinced women that they wanted it.

And so, you finished the night of your first date in the backseat of a taxi, smiling ear to ear at the fact you’d successfully manipulated Dennis as much as he had attempted (and failed) to manipulate you. You knew what kind of guy Dennis was, you knew he’d be playing the role of a perfect man. You even picked up on his little scheme before it started when you’d googled the restaurant to see the menu. You were far too intrigued to see how his plan would play out to question him on the restaurants opening hours.

You’d also steered clear of cliche rom-com movies and let him suggest a horror film. You, a relative fan of the genre had heard terrible things about the latest M. Night Shyamalan movie but deliberately told him the complete opposite. Apparently it’s terrifying you said, acting as though you were nervous to watch it because of the raving reviews. Dennis loved a damsel in distress, a weak, vulnerable woman down on her luck or desperate enough to believe his empty promises.

As a woman of high intelligence and even higher standards, you knew from the get-go that you wouldn’t sleep with him that night. With neither of you remembering the one time you’d had sex four years prior, and the palpable sexual tension you’d both built up since, you knew Dennis was dying to fuck you again. You might be younger than him but you weren’t naive. Nor blind.You didn’t want to see how long you could make him wait for sex. No, no, no. That wasn’t enough long-term satisfaction. A rookie’s game. And you were no rookie. In terms of sex and experience comparative to Dennis yes, but you weren’t a rookie at manipulating people psychologically. Dennis thought he was winning his little manipulation game, and he was, but the poor guy didn’t realise he was the only one playing.

You and Dennis were manipulators at your very cores. You enjoyed playing the game as much as he did. The only difference was that he played to win and you played for your own amusement. You knew that he used the D.E.N.N.I.S system with every woman he pursued, and he wouldn’t stop until it was complete. That then became your motivation. He couldn’t win if he couldn’t complete all the steps and you wouldn’t go anywhere unless you grew bored of him.

Whether you or Dennis liked to admit it, you were pretty fucking similar — just in different ways. On the surface you both looked like polar opposites. And for the most part you were, but on the same deranged and twisted spectrum. You both denied you had feelings but you both had big emotions.

Dennis showed his anger outwardly by yelling and shamelessly causing a scene, commanding the power and authority over people by being the most dominant figure. Whereas your anger presented in a chillingly calm manner that made people far more unsettled than an explosive argument. You were the type of person to feel a tear roll down your face whilst laughing with how angry you were.

Charlie was always really scared when you got angry. More so than with Dennis.

Mac found Dennis scarier of course because he was emotionally attached to the man and never wanted to disappoint him, but with you he assumed he’d put you in a headlock or overpower you with some sick karate moves if you were to ever fight. You weren’t a physical fighter though, never was and never will be. Especially not against grown men.

One time you’d gotten in an argument with Mac about who knew Dennis better. You were in your mid twenties at this stage and Mac had overheard you talking about ‘the true Dennis’ to Charlie. He interrupted you and without any context, scrutinised you (and Charlie) for your ‘stupidity’ thinking you knew his own roommate and best friend better than he did. You had started to explain how you were speaking in terms of clinical psychology, he thought yelling the loudest and not listening to anyone would help drive home his point. You didn’t even disagree with him all, you were simply just talking about different things.

The next day you stopped by Mrs. Mac’s house and sent him a photo of the two of you sitting on the front porch having a cigarette together — a moment of maternal bonding Mac had craved his whole life. He furrowed his brows when he received the text and once Dennis noticed his confusion and saw the photo for himself, he grinned like the god damn Cheshire Cat.

“Is that your Mom? Fuck, that’s a good move… That’s really good…” Dennis trailed, impressed by your psychological warfare against Mac. Triggering his severe parental issues? Genius idea on your part.

That was the first moment Dennis truly respected you as a fellow manipulative elite. You were ruthless just like him which made you all the more challenging to conquer. It was his biggest project yet, four years and counting.

Mac runs his hand through his hair dramatically and paces back and forth across the living room. “She is such a bitch, dude! Why is she still trying to be a part of the gang? Like, first she tries to steal you away from me- us, and then fights me saying she knows you better than anyone else? Like hello? I literally live with you Dennis.” Mac scoffs, frowning over at Dennis who was too busy zooming into the picture.

“Wait, is your Mom smiling?! Wow… I didn’t know she knew how to do that.”

Mac snatches the phone back, “No! She’s squinting from the sun! Obviously. But Dennis, trust me she was such a psycho yesterday fighting me over you.”

Dennis had already zoomed in on your chest in the photo and was far too preoccupied staring at your tits to care about the conversation anymore. “You might live with me sure, but I haven’t been inside you.”

“You-”

“And I’m never going to.” Dennis finishes bluntly, not wanting to entertain the ludicrous conversation whatsoever.

Turned out you went over to Mac’s mom’s house to she had any of Mac’s old high school yearbooks. You weren’t up to anything particularly diabolical, you just wanted to see if you could get any dirt on Dennis because you weren’t convinced any of them were popular in school. You partly knew that taking the photo was with Mac’s mom would trigger him so you sent it just as an amusing little power play.

“Hey Mrs. Mac. Brought you these.” You said tossing a fresh cigarette deck at her. After she had already coughed a puff of smoke in your face as she answered the door mind you.

She grunted at you and stepped outside onto the patio, sitting down in her usual chair and opening the pack you’d given her. She was already smoking inside before you got there but here she was lighting a new one now. The half-smoked and still lit cigarette was burning a small hole in the sofa inside but not enough to cause a fire.

That wouldn’t be for a few more years.

Mrs. Mac held the cigarette between her wrinkled lips and scowled up at you, “Sit down.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks.” You said quickly sitting in the other chair. You’d only met the woman once or twice before and had barely heard her speak more than a few sentences.

She held the open pack towards you and grunted, which you interpreted as ‘do you want one’ and thanked her before lighting it.

“Sorry for showing up unannounced, I needed to get away from the guys.”

She nods, “Mmph.”

“I was wanting to look at some of Mac’s old school stuff? They were talking about it the other day is all, I’m a little curious.”

Silence.

“Is his room uh, just upstairs? Or…”

Mrs. Mac nods and takes a long drag of her cigarette, saying nothing but turning towards you this time.

“Cool… Yeah I’ll just go look after I finish this.”

She looks away from you again and closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair and letting the sunlight hit her face. “Do you ever shut the hell up? Just sit and smoke kid. The sun is out. Life is good.”

You recall Mac saying she thrived in sunlight once, which you were intrigued by because she was the human embodiment of a brick wall. But this was pretty optimistic of her. After a few minutes of more weirdly uncomfortable silence, she suddenly coughed and spluttered, spitting out a sizeable amount of phlegm into a nearby empty beer can before resuming her sunbaking.

That’s when you pulled out your phone and took a photo of the two of you to send to Mac — when his Mom was ‘thriving’ with you and not him. From that moment on, Mac had a grudge against you. For stealing Dennis and stealing his Mom.

Your on and off again nature with Dennis became a normal part of the gang’s dynamic. Sometimes you were both friendly and on good terms, sometimes you were at each other’s throats or dating other people to make the other jealous. Sometimes you would agree to part ways and not keep doing this toxic cycle, but a month or two later you’d be hooking up in the back office again.

Nobody could keep up with how to define yours and Dennis’ relationship because the two of you never wanted a definition or a label in the first place. It was just a never ending game of cat and mouse that most people would find infuriating and draining — but it worked for both of you and your twisted conniving selves.

There were little things that the two of you would do that subtly showed you meant more to each other than just casual sex. Tiny details that showed you both had cracks in your meticulously crafted armour against catching feelings. For example, whenever the gang had a particularly dangerous or life-threatening scheme, you were always the first person Dennis would look for or check was okay. It just became a natural instinct for him to protect you.

Without being asked to or having any knowledge of his dislike for the skins, you peeled Dennis’ apples for him. It was strangely comforting knowing he didn’t have to explain to you how the skins were riddled with toxins because he assumed that was what you believed too. They weren’t, and you knew that. You just peeled them sometimes, which almost felt like fate the first time he saw.

Dennis was too much of a realist to believe in fate, but if he did he might have thought the apple thing was a sign that you were a keeper. Maybe.

“What’re you eating?” He said with a slight scrunch of his nose.

“Apple slices with cinnamon sugar. It’s like Apple pie but without the pie. And cold.”

Dennis smiles gently, “You peel your apples?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a fucking baby. I know.” You sighed, not in the mood for another joke about your age. The guys always teased you about that and it was getting old.

“No, no… I don’t eat the skins either. I’m not fucking with you I swear,” he assured.

He liked that you remembered to peel his apples from that point on. It made him feel seen and heard, which was something he didn’t encounter very often. He liked knowing that you cared about his wants and needs, like you actually gave a fuck. You even asked him for his advice when you went shopping by texting him different outfit options. He liked that too, being able to dictate your wardrobe to his tastes. His favourite thing though, was when you would ask his opinion on what nail polish colour you should get each time you visited the salon.

“Hey Dee, c’mere for a sec.” Dennis said ushering her over to him and showing her your most recent text. “Do different nail polish colours mean different things for women?”

“Red means she’s a whore.” Artemis calls out from where she was sitting in the bar. She’s several margaritas in but she’s still as quick as a whip.

“Oh! Yeah, that one’s true actually. Classy women like myself, get elegant neutral colours.” Dee said smugly holding the backs of her hands up to show her pale pink nails.

“So I’ll say get pink then?”

“No, don’t just say pink,” Dee says mocking his stupid boy ignorance. “It’s called ‘Bubble Bath’ and it’s a classic.”

Artemis then joins them at the other end of the bar. “It’s all about tone. Hot pink? Spring break. Baby pink? Eh, it’s pretty safe all-round. If she gets anything neon or super long, she’s trashy. And if she gets only a clear top coat she’s probably a prude.” She shrugs.

Dennis can’t help but imagine about what your hand would look like around his cock with different coloured nails. Neutral colours weren’t a bad image. Better than something gaudy like electric blue or something he thought.

“Bright red is for cheap whores but dark red is for those real expensive whores. Y’know the ones that don’t suck cock for less than a benjamin.” Artemis continues.

“Wait- Are you kidding? I can charge a hundred bucks for a quick lil trip down south? Huh…” Dee ponders, briefly considering the quick source of income.

Frank, who was eavesdropping from one of the booths in the bar laughs, “Don’t kid yourself Deandra. Gangly women like you could probably only get fifty bucks max.”

“You have good feet though. Men pay big bucks for flippers like those.” Artemis added.

“Dark red it is.” Dennis smirks, responding to your text and telling you to send a photo when you were done.

When your photo came through? Fuck, yeah Dennis knew he made the right decision. It looked hot on you. And they’d look even hotter roaming his body later that night he thought.

Which they did.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing || andy barber x fem!reader

word count || 3,865

summary || you and andy have been sneaking around for months and soon it might catch up to you two

warnings || drinking, throwing up, oral, reader has twins, andy cheating on laurie, oral receiving, oral giving, couch sex, making dinner, eating dinner, over the counter sex, taking care of teenagers, andy buying you stuff, beach house, beach house sex, name calling, breeding, ass fingering, pussy fingering

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

𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑

Keep reading

Love is Never Easy

Pairing: Elliot Stabler x Wife!Reader

Summary: Elliot's temper and anger issues force a wedge between the two of you. You ask for a separation in the hopes that it pushes him to get the help he needs.

Warnings: Separation and talks of divorce. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), not super descriptive...this is about love making and connection.

"That tension in your jaw? Your vein pulsing in your forehead? The way you clench your hands into tight fists? It's rage, Elliot. Pure, intense rage."

"How the hell would you know how I'm feeling, huh? Are you psychic now?" he yelled.

"I can read the cues, Elliot. And I know you, better than anyone else. If you keep bottling it up, eventually you're going to explode. God only knows who you'll take with you when you do."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it!" you yelled back. "A blind man can see you're not okay."

"You think because you're a shrink you know everything?"

"When it comes to you, I'm your wife, not a shrink. But I can't turn it off, Elliot. You need help."

"Screw you, (Y/N)."

He started to walk out the door and you felt your heart clench in your chest. You knew if he left, there was a good chance something terrible would happen.

"Just answer one question," you begged, stopping him in his tracks. "How many times have you thought about eating your gun?"

For the first time since the argument had begun, Elliot was speechless. You had never asked him that before and he didn't know how to answer you. He didn't know how to tell you that he thought about it all the time. He didn't know how to tell you that he'd almost made you a widow more times than he could count.

Even when he wasn't thinking about killing himself, he was making decisions that put him in danger...way beyond the typical line of duty scenarios. He put himself in harm's way so often it had almost become second nature. He tried never to think about you getting a knock on the door...his partner and his captain telling you he was gone.

If he thought about those things, then he couldn't be reckless. He couldn't make those poor choices. As it stood, those choices were already killing him inside. He'd pulled away from you long before you'd put the separation on the table. What was the point in hurting you more than he already had?

"Suicide's a sin," he mumbled.

"This isn't about religion. This is about you and the choices you make."

When he turned to look at you, his eyes were haunted--filled with a pain so deep you couldn't begin to comprehend it. You took a step towards him, desperate not to lose him. "Talk to me, Elliot. Just talk to me."

His heart ached hearing you plead like that. It wasn't in your nature to beg, and here you were begging for the second time in less than a minute. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," you pleaded.

To your surprise, he turned around, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and ran his fingers over his face, emotion covering every inch of it. "You don't just wanna leave and get this over with?"

"Is that really what you want me to do? Do you I believe I think so little of our marriage?"

"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Then for once, Elliot, please. Just be honest with me."

He stared at the floor for several moments before deciding to answer you, eyes never leaving the ground. "I think about it all the time, but I'm more inclined to be reckless than I am to eat my own gun."

You were taken aback by his words. You hadn't really expected him to be honest with you and you certainly hadn't expected him to give you that answer.

"Do you want to fix this?" you asked softly, unsure if you really wanted the answer.

He finally looked up at you. "I don't wanna lose you."

"Then get help."

**********

It had been six long months since you'd begged Elliot to get help. Six months since you'd told him you wanted to separate. Six months since you'd taken the kids and moved in with your sister.

You only saw Elliot on weekends when he came to pick up the kids, and even then it was only briefly. The only news you ever got about him came from Olivia when she would call you to give you an update.

You'd never wanted to split up...never wanted a divorce...never wanted to lose him. But you had to protect yourself and your kids. Plus, you wanted to shock him into getting help. Asking for a separation was the only thing you could think of to push him into finally talking to someone.

You had no idea if he was going to therapy or not. He'd never told you and you didn't ask. For the first time in 15 years, you felt like it wasn't your place to pry. If he wanted to open up to you, then he would do it on his own.

You were sitting at your desk, thinking about the past, remembering things you'd long since forgotten. Most of your memories with Elliot were good, but this wasn't a happy trip down memory lane.

You remembered when you got pregnant with your first child. Elliot had just joined the NYPD and you were settling into your new job with the FBI as a forensic psychiatrist.

When Elliot found out you were pregnant, he was thrilled...but as the days went on, his mood shifted. You started to worry about whether he actually wanted this baby or not, a concern you'd never had before.

One day, you finally gathered the courage to ask him what was going on. "El...do you not want this baby?" you'd whispered.

He'd been shocked. "Of course I do, doll! You know I've always wanted a family, especially with you."

"Then why don't you seem happy?"

He'd grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. A look of sadness had crossed over his features and he whispered his biggest fear aloud for only you and God to hear, "What if I'm like my dad?"

You knew his past. You knew how his father had treated him. What was worse was you knew exactly how badly it had damaged him. But you also knew him.

"If I know anything for certain, I know this," you began. You gently lifted his chin so he was looking into your eyes. "You are not your father. You are kind, loving, and gentle...and I know you're going to treat this baby as reverently as you treat me."

The memory almost hurt to think about now. You hadn't been wrong...Elliot was nothing like his father, but he'd carried that hurt with him for almost 40 years. It affected him in ways even he didn't want to admit.

You sighed loudly, trying to will the memory away. You didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Am I interrupting?"

You looked up with a smile. "Never. What's up?"

Your partner and close friend, George Huang, entered your office. "I heard the dramatic sigh. You okay?"

You shrugged. "Taking a trip down memory lane. It's nothing."

He gave you a look that said he wasn't at all convinced, but he didn't pry. "How are the kids?"

"They're all doing really well, considering. The twins keep asking when daddy is coming home."

He nodded his understanding. "And how is Elliot?"

"You'd know better than me. You're the one that sees him all the time."

"Only because you refuse to go to the precinct."

"It would be awkward and you know it."

He sighed. "Do you want my opinion?"

You groaned. "Professional or friend?"

"A little of both."

"Fine--go on."

He sat down in the chair closest to your desk. "He's different, (Y/N/N). Anyone can see that he's trying and the whole squad has noticed it, myself included. As your friend, I really think you should talk to him."

"What if he doesn't wanna talk to me?"

Huang gave you a look that said it all. "If you don't know how much that man loves you, then you're an idiot." He held up his hand to stop your protest. "And I know you're not an idiot. Talk to him, (Y/N/N). He needs you."

He got up and left your office without another word, leaving you to sit there and think about what you were gonna do next.

**********

It took a couple weeks, but you finally decided to take Huang's advice. You'd called Elliot and asked him to meet you for dinner at a little diner near the office.

You arrived about 10 minutes early and to your surprise, Elliot had already gotten a table and was waiting for you. It was very unlike him to be on time...let alone early.

He stood up when he saw you walk in, but when you reached the table, it became evident he didn't know what to do.

"Can I hug you?" he asked softly.

You nodded and offered him a small smile. He pulled you against him tightly and held on, as if he was terrified of letting go.

You pulled away and gestured for him to sit back down. You slid into the booth across from him and began to study him. You knew you shouldn't...but you wanted--needed--to know where his head was.

He actually looked shockingly good, better than he had in a long time. His eyes were clear and bright, and the bags that had once lingered under them were gone. He was clean shaven and his hair had recently been trimmed. All in all, he looked healthy and perhaps even happy.

"You look good," you commented softly.

"So do you."

You knew for a fact you did not look good...but you appreciated the lie. Being apart from him for so long had really taken its toll on you, as had taking care of the kids by yourself. You were tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

You looked down at the clothes you were wearing and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Your shirt was more wrinkled than you would have liked and you were pretty sure you'd accidentally gotten bleach on your black pants, as evidenced by the odd reddish stain you hadn't noticed that morning. You'd come straight to the diner from work, so you hadn't had time to change.

"I look like I slept on a park bench last night," you grumbled as you tried to smooth down your shirt.

Elliot chuckled, the sound clear and crisp. "You look as beautiful as the day I met you...cheesy as that may sound."

You blushed. "It ranks up there with cheesiest comments you've ever made."

He smiled. "It's nice to see you, (Y/N)," he said softly. "I mean really see you."

You simply nodded. You weren't quite ready to talk about the separation yet. "How have you been?"

He sighed, noting your subtle avoidance. "It was hard at first--really damn hard--but I'm actually doing pretty well now." He paused. "I, uh--I started seeing a therapist."

Your face lit up in surprise. You hadn't expected him to be honest with you so quickly. "Really? That's great."

"Yeah, it's actually been surprisingly helpful. I feel like I've broken down a lot of those barriers I had up, ya know? It was awful at first, but once I started talking, it was like I couldn't stop. For a while there, I was going twice a week. Now I'm down to biweekly and the doc says I'll probably be able to go to once a month soon."

You felt a little jolt of pride warm your chest. You were proud of him for owning his issues and for working to make himself better. All you ever wanted was for him to start to heal...if he couldn't talk to you, then he might as well talk to someone who could help him.

"George mentioned you'd been going to therapy. He said you were doing really well."

His expression soured slightly. "Huang told you?"

"He is my partner, you know." You sighed. "If it makes you feel better, he only told me a couple weeks ago."

"It's not that I didn't want you to know or anything...I just kinda wanted to be the one to tell you."

"When were you planning on telling me, El?"

"I don't know...I figured I'd just mention it when I picked up or dropped off the kids."

"You've been going to therapy for how long?"

"Almost 7 months."

"I'm proud of you, Elliot, I really am. But I wish you would have told me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened slightly. "I...I can't remember the last time you apologized to me for something."

He looked down at the table. "I know. It's one of things we've been working on."

"I appreciate your apology," you whispered. "It's just--If I'd known about the therapy, I probably would have arranged this meeting sooner."

"Really?"

He seemed genuinely surprised and it broke your heart a little. "I missed you, El. Every single moment of every day for the last 7 months."

His eyes widened in surprise. "I--I didn't know."

A look of hurt flashed across your face.

"I just figured you wanted to get away from me," he said quickly. "I mean, you're the one who asked for the separation."

You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I never intended to hurt you, Elliot. I just wanted you to get the help you needed. I..." you sighed. "I missed the man I love, the man I married, the wonderful loving husband and father...I just wanted him back."

He squeezed your hand. "I didn't even realize how far away I'd gotten from the person I was, but when I did, it was too late. You'd already pulled away and then we had that big fight and that was it...you moved out and I had to try and piece my life back together."

You swallowed thickly. "Something needed to get your attention, Elliot. My words weren't enough. I asked for the separation because I thought it would force you to get help. I never intended to take it any farther than that."

He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I know," he whispered against your skin. "I think it saved me, (Y/N)--I really do."

"I'm glad, El. I really am." I just hope it saves us.

As if he read your mind, he spoke your thought into existence, "I hope it's enough to save us, baby. I still love you more than anything in this life."

Your heart skipped a beat just like it used to when you were young and madly in love with the man sitting across from you. "Nothing's changed for me. I love you more now than I ever have."

"Even after everything I've done? Everything I've said? All those times I let my temper get the best of me?"

"Even after all of that."

"I'm not sure I deserve it."

"You have my love and my forgiveness, Elliot. They're mine to give and I give them to you freely," you said gently. "It may surprise you, but I always knew why your temper was so intense, why you'd fly off the handle at the smallest thing...but you never wanted to open up to me, so I couldn't help you. I did the only thing I could think of to help you help yourself."

"I'll be forever grateful, (Y/N)."

"Me too."

He looked at you quizzically, so you elaborated.

"I'm grateful for your strength, your perseverance...for your willingness to change. And I will always be grateful for your love."

"It means a lot to me, (Y/N/N)."

"I always had faith in you, El."

He smiled, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something more...something that was clearly bothering him.

Much to your surprise, you didn't have to prod him for answers. "What about us, (Y/N)?"

"I always hoped the separation would be temporary."

"We were broken long before the separation, doll. As much as I don't want to admit it, it's the truth."

A look of sadness crossed your face. "I know."

"Can we fix it?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

"I'll never stop trying," you whispered back. "I'm not ready to give up on us, Elliot."

"Neither am I. I never wanna lose you," he admitted. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

"I think this is a good start," you responded softly.

"Forgiveness," he said simply. "Forgive ourselves and each other."

You nodded. "Forgiveness."

The two of you spent several hours at the diner--talking, eating, laughing, even crying. It felt good to be with each other like this...to hash out so many things that needed to be said, deal with all the things that needed to be handled.

Before you knew it, your watch read 10pm. You hadn't even realized you'd been siting there for so long. "Shit, it's 10! The kids will probably already be in bed."

Elliot looked at his watch in surprise. "I didn't even realize it was so late. Stay here--I'll go pay the bill and then I'll walk you out."

A few minutes later, he came back to the table to get you.

"Where'd you park?"

"I took the subway, actually."

"Oh, um...can I at least drive you home? Or if you don't want me to do that, I can call you a cab--"

"I would love if you took me home," you said, cutting him off.

He seemed relieved. He hated the idea of you being out late at night, completely alone. He couldn't guarantee you'd be safe in a cab anymore than the subway. "My car's this way."

He started walking down the sidewalk and you fell in step beside him. It was a chilly evening and you'd been completely unprepared for the drop in temperature. After a few minutes, you started to shiver, the cold cutting right through your thin shirt.

Elliot took notice immediately. "Take my jacket, baby. It's cold." He started to shrug it off and before you could protest, he cut you off. "You're freezing, so take the jacket. No fuss."

You accepted it gratefully, the warmth flooding your body the moment you put it on. "Thank you," you said softly.

"You're welcome."

As you continued to walk, his scent washed over you with every breath you took. His jacket smelled like him and it enveloped you in a warm cocoon of Elliot. His scent was even more intoxicating than you were used to, perhaps because you hadn't smelled it in so long.

You tentatively brushed your hand against his, gauging his reaction to the touch. Unlike you, he didn't hesitate--he intertwined his fingers with yours in such a familiar way, it almost made you cry. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed this...all those little things the two of you stopped doing ages ago. All the little ways you showed love or affection had seemingly died off, but what scared you most was that you hadn't really noticed.

"When did we stop touching each other?" you whispered aloud.

"What?"

You hadn't even realized you'd said anything out loud until he spoke. "Oh--I was umm...I was just wondering when we stopped being affectionate? I--well, I don't remember the last time we held hands."

His eyes darkened with sorrow. "Neither do I. I can't pinpoint an exact moment--all I know is that I missed this. So much."

"I missed you," you whispered. "In all the ways you can miss someone."

You'd just reached his car when you stopped talking. Elliot opened the door for you, but you didn't get in. He'd always been good at reading you, just as you were good at reading him. Years of loving someone will do that to you.

He took a step towards you so his body was mere inches away from yours. You looked up at him and your breath caught in your chest. As you stood there feeling like a love-struck teenager, all you could think was please kiss me.

As if Elliot heard your thoughts, he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours with a tenderness you'd long since forgotten. Your hands rested on his hips and you pulled him closer to you, desperate to feel his warmth.

The tenderness quickly turned to something darker, something more primal. You needed him--and he needed you--like a drowning man needs oxygen. He was your drug of choice, always had been, and you knew you'd never be able to quit him.

Elliot pressed his body up against yours, leaning you back against the frame of the car. He held onto you, lips parting to deepen the kiss.

You needed to breathe and you suspected he did too, but in that moment, nothing else mattered. It was you and him, locked in a passionate embrace you never wanted to end.

But it had to end eventually--the survival instinct kicked in and you pulled away from each other, completely breathless. You both sucked in air desperately as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Baby..." he whispered.

"Take me home," you begged.

He pulled away instantly, a look of hurt crossing his handsome face. "I'm sorry, (Y/N/N), I didn't mean to--I shouldn't have--"

You grabbed him and tugged him to you so you could kiss him again. When you let him go, he stared at you in stunned silence. "Take me home, Elliot. Please."

He started to smile as the realization crossed his face. He'd thought you were asking him to take you to your sister's...not home. "You've got it, doll."

You smiled warmly as he helped you into the car before practically running to the driver's side. You chuckled lightly, his haste making you roll your eyes affectionately.

As soon as he was in the car, he was off--speed limit be damned.

"Babe, if you wreck this car, I swear..."

He laughed. "I won't, I promise. I just need to get my girl home, okay? She asked so nicely."

You chuckled again. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way--like a giddy schoolgirl or a horny teenager. As opposed as you were to breaking traffic laws, you decided to let it slide this time--the need to get home as soon as possible was really all you could think about.

In what had to be record-breaking time, Elliot pulled into the driveway of the home the two of you had shared together for almost 10 years. You hadn't been inside in months, but right now there was only one room you cared to see.

Elliot didn't even make it around the front of the car before you were closing your door and making your way to the house. He chuckled lightly as he ran after you, arms snaking around your waist to you pull you back against his chest.

"What's the rush, baby?"

"I need you, Elliot, and I need you now. Are you really gonna make me wait?"

The dark, seductive tone in your voice nearly brought him to his knees. "No ma'am," he insisted. Then he scooped you up like he did when you were both a lot younger and carried you to the door like you were his brand new blushing bride.

"Elliot!" you yelled, laughter clouding your voice. "Put me down! You're gonna strain your back."

He laughed too, but he didn't put you down. "Don't underestimate my strength, baby. Besides, you're light as a feather."

"You lie, but I love it."

He grinned as he carried you across the threshold. "I would never."

Instead of putting you down once you were inside the house, he continued to carry you towards the stairs. "Absolutely not!"

"I'm not gonna drop you."

"No, but we might fall down the stairs!" You started to squirm to make your point.

"Fine, fine. But only because trying to hold onto you now would probably be a death sentence." He sat you down gently. "Crazy woman," he teased as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Lock the door and meet me upstairs," you said before running up the steps to your bedroom.

He grinned ear to ear, and made sure to lock the front door before racing after you.

When he reached the bedroom you'd shared for almost a decade, his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him. Somehow in the 10 second head start you'd had, you managed to get down to nothing but your bra and panties. You were laying on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly, a look of heady desire on your face.

"Aren't you gonna come in?"

Elliot smiled and stepped into the room. "I was just admiring the view."

You smirked. "See something you like?"

"I see someone I love."

Your expression softened and you reached out for him. "Come here, baby."

He slipped his shoes off and made his way over to the bed.

"Wait--maybe take off your shirt and pants first."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Unless you want me to rip them off."

He laughed. "As sexy as that might be, I don't want to be vacuuming up buttons for the next month."

You laughed softly and watched as he quickly undressed. "Lose the undershirt too, while you're at it."

"When did you get to be so demanding?" he teased before complying with your request.

"You love it," you teased back.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you. His lips grazed your ear, as he whispered, "You know I do."

When he kissed you this time, you felt all the years of love the two of you shared, all the things you'd left unsaid for so long, and all the emotions you had both been holding back.

Love wasn't easy--it was messy and imperfect, but you wouldn't have traded it for anything. Very few people were blessed with true love and those that were knew to hold onto it. You had come so close to losing it--losing him--but you'd never let yourself really feel that loss. His gentle loving touch reminded you of everything you'd come so close to losing and it brought tears to your eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, noticing your tears. He brushed back your hair and he wiped a tear from your cheek. "What's wrong, doll?"

"Nothing, El," you assured him. "Everything is just right."

"You don't usually cry when I kiss you."

You laughed lightly and wiped your eyes. You reached up to touch his face and he leaned into your palm. "Losing you is my biggest fear," you whispered. "I came so close...I never want to feel that way again."

"You won't," he murmured as his eyes turned glossy. "I'm not going anywhere."

You sighed softly. "Make love to me, Elliot Stabler."

"Your wish is my command, (Y/N) Stabler."

Hips lips met yours again in a searing kiss. The way he touched you, held you, kissed you--it was passionate and loving, and you were once again reminded that it had been years since you'd made love like this.

His hands were gentle, but firm, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he wasn't going anywhere. The room was filled with nothing but his gentle whispers of affection and your soft moans of enjoyment.

By the time he was ready to enter you, you were already teetering on the brink, your body vibrating with need. He slid inside of you in one quick thrust, and you gasped his name in his ear.

There was nothing rushed about the way he moved, despite the pent up desire you'd both experienced. He gave you what you needed and accepted what you gave him. The soft sounds you made spurred him on, his need to hear you reach your peak his driving force.

"I love you so much, (Y/N/N)," he whispered.

You kissed him breathlessly. "And I love you."

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you, a million sweet nothings, but those would have to wait. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so deeply connected to another person--so intimately intertwined. It was a feeling he could never put into words and he'd only ever felt it with you.

"I missed this," he murmured. "I missed you."

"I missed us," you whispered in return.

In truth, he'd missed everything about being with you. He would have sold his soul if it meant he never had to leave you. He imagined you wouldn't be particularly fond of such a thought, but he couldn't help the way he felt. You were his world and he would have done anything to keep you.

"I'm close," you gasped, nails digging into the flesh of his broad back.

"Hang on for a little longer, baby. I want you to cum with me."

"I don't think I can."

"Yes you can, doll. Do it for me."

You nodded and dug your nails in a little deeper, as if the reflex kept you from falling over the edge.

Elliot groaned softly, the pain mixing with the pleasure in just the right way. He knew he was going to have marks on his back tomorrow and he would wear them with pride.

His pace quickened slightly and your moans began to increase in volume. You continued to clutch onto him and your core spasmed around him, pulling him closer to the edge.

"I'm almost there, baby," he murmured.

You whined, unable to verbally beg him to speed up.

He took the hint and changed his pace again, chasing his own high. He knew you couldn't hold on much longer, but he was desperate to feel you reach your climax at the same time as him.

"Need to cum," you begged.

"Almost, baby."

You whined again, but you continued to hold on.

He knew he was seconds away from orgasming, but he waited until the very last moment to whisper in your ear, "Cum for me."

The moment those words left his lips, the cord in your abdomen snapped and you cried out as the wall of pleasure slammed into you. Elliot came at the same moment, a cry of your name ripped from his throat as he filled you with his seed.

You clung to each other as you began to come down from your highs, unwilling or unable to let go. Elliot collapsed on top of you and you held on tightly, enjoying the feeling of his warm body enveloping yours.

Through the haze of pleasure, you were reminded of how incredible sex was when it was with someone who loved and respected you as much as you loved and respected them. There was nothing special about the sex itself...it was missionary position for crying out loud, but the person you were making love with is what made it special.

"You are my heart and soul, Elliot. I could never love anyone the way I love you." You whispered the words into his hair, almost hoping he didn't hear you.

He didn't move for a long moment--so long, in fact, that you thought he may have simply fallen asleep. Then he lifted his head to look at you and the words he said would stick with you for the rest of your life.

"I never knew what love was until I met you--it was just a word, nothing special. I've been madly in love with you for as long as I can remember and I'll never want anything else. You are my everything, (Y/N)...my sun, my moon, my stars, my universe. You are branded on my soul for all of time."

That was, without a doubt, the most romantic thing he'd ever said to you--and he'd said a lot of romantic things in the past 15 years. Your eyes filled with emotion and you tried your hardest not to cry.

He pulled himself up and leaned over you to kiss you gently and sweetly, a kiss you returned gladly. When he pulled away, he laid down beside you and tugged you to him, not quite ready to let go of you.

You nuzzled into his chest with a sigh, perfectly content to stay right there forever.

Elliot kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly, making sure you knew he wasn't going to let you go. He knew there was still going to be a lot for the two of you to talk about, but you'd managed to reform a connection that you'd both lost, and he'd be damned if he let it break again.

He wasn't at all surprised when you spoke up as if you'd read his mind. "We still have a lot to talk about, El."

He chuckled softly. "I know, baby, but we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. For now, I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms."

You sighed happily. "I think I can live with that."

It didn't take long for you both to fall asleep, the comfort of each other's arms all you needed to feel safe, protected, and so very loved. Love is never easy, but it is always worth it.

Venom To The Rescue- Venom/Eddie Brock x Reader

Summary: Venom comes to readers rescue when she’s harassed by John Walker

Word Count: 1, 710

CW: *does have a scene of sexual harassment so TW for that*

*Want to be tagged in any future Venom/Eddie fics? Click here*

The excess room in the transport van was much appreciated, as you, Eddie and Venom travelled to meet the famous Avengers. Eddie stayed with you for most of the journey, but Venom wanted to take over every now and then, complaining that he wanted to see you and that he was bored.

You knew the main reason for the van was to act as a somewhat transport cage for Venom, especially with the armed guards behind you and one in the passenger seat, but you understood.

Being with Eddie and Venom for the past two years and seeing what Venom could do, you completely understand peoples caution. Venom tried to act innocent and like he didn’t understand the need for armed guards, but he knew why, and you think deep down he was a little proud.

“Are we almost there?” Venom continued to complain.

“I think we’re pulling in now, Vee,” you smile sweetly and patiently at the large alien.

“Mr. Brock, it might be best for you to be the one to meet with the Avengers first,” the armed guard in front of you informed.

“What?! That’s not fair!”

The guards pulled their guns, and Venom smiled wide as he licked his fangs, obviously excited for a fight. You knew this was stressing Eddie out and that Venom could easily take these guys out, so to calm the situation you gently placed your hand on Venoms bicep.

“Hey, V, think of it this way, they see Eddie first and think it’s fine, and then when the times right you can make a big appearance, wowing and scaring everyone.”

You always knew how to stroke Venoms ego to make him behave.

“Very well,” he simply spoke as he let Eddie come back.

Seeing Eddie’s face and body once again, you both sighed a sigh of relief. Holding onto Eddie’s hand tightly, you see the van is slowing down and a woman in a professional looking pants suit and tablet is ready waiting for you.

Giving Eddie’s hand a last squeeze of encouragement, you both step out of the vehicle.

“You must be Eddie and Y/N, welcome to the Avengers headquarters. My name is Maria Hill, and I’ll be introducing you and ah- your friend to the team.”

Maria was sweet, although you could tell a little nervous. You and Eddie knew that the Avengers had seen lots of different and dangerous things, but it seems Venom is still a challenge for them.

Walking down the halls to the planned meeting area, Maria is pointing out different things about the building, where things are, what things do, who certain people are.

As you’re all about to step into the elevator together, you hear someone running over.

“Hey, hold the elevator!” You hear someone yell.

Turning around to look at who the voice belongs to, you notice it is no other than John Walker, aka Fake Cap, as you, Eddie and Venom call him. You knew you’d most likely encounter him today, and you all had to prepare each other to meet him, and be on your best behaviours.

“Ah, John good to see you,” Maria told him, obviously trying to hide a wince, “this is Eddie and Y/N. Eddie is a new potential recruit and Y/N is his partner.”

At hearing you were dating Eddie, something seemed to pass John’s eyes, a look of both intrigue and mischief, but whatever it was, it put you on edge.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke only to you as he stepped into the elevator with you, a little close for your liking.

Eddie put his arm around your waist and you could hear Venom growl. Eddie and Venoms protection of you seemed to amuse him, as he smiled creepily, and his eyes leered at you.

Facing the doors for the rest of the lift ride, you could still feel John’s eyes on you the whole time. Eddie’s grip on you got tighter and tighter as you could tell he was trying to hold back Venom.

You comforted them as they protected you.

Walking into the large lab-like room, the rest of the team stood around an area that was no doubt designed for Venom to show himself. Venom had a crowd and a podium, this is exactly what your little drama queen wanted.

After Maria had introduced you to the anxious group of heros, you let go of Eddie and encouraged him to step forward.

While you watched Venom appear through Eddie, you tried to ignore the way John’s eyes obviously bore into you, as if he was studying your actions. Venom stood to full height and waved at you like a kid at a talent show, your wave back seemed to interest John as his stare became even more intense.

Luckily for everyone, Venom was a little too busy showboating to notice how close John now stood to you.

“Alright, Vee, I think that’s enough, sweetheart, time to bring Eddie back,” you called to him as you could see he was getting a little too excited.

Being with both Eddie and Venom could be challenging sometimes, especially when Venom acted like a toddler, but you knew there was more to him than that. You knew how to wrangle him in, and he knew how to make you laugh and look after you.

The team seemed almost amazed that you could bring him back so easily, but the amazement quickly turned to relief as Eddie appeared again. Everyone parted for Eddie to stand beside you, except for Maria, who had most likely practised keeping her cool, this kid Peter who was more excited then scared, and of course, John.

“Alright well, if it’s alright with you Y/N, we’d like to talk with Eddie in private now. Please feel free to wait in the common room I showed you and we’ll come get you once we’re finished.”

You felt a little worried to leave your boys alone, but you made sure to give Eddie a comforting hug and whisper a stern ‘behave’ into Eddie’s ear, before you left.

********

The common room was nice, it was about midway up the tower with large glass windows to see all over the city. After such a long trip it was to your delight that the room was empty, so you could have any of the big comfy couches all to yourself.

Once you made yourself a drink from one of the fancy machines in the kitchen area, you got yourself comfortable and began to read with your warm drink.

It seemed the meeting with Eddie was taking longer than you thought it would, as you finish a chapter and your drink. Standing up you decide to go back to the kitchen to get a cool drink of water. Unfortunately as you turn toward the kitchen however, you almost run into John.

Seeing him alone, and now standing so close, you try your best to calm your breathing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting?” You asked, trying your best to sound pleasant.

Instead of answering, he simply gave you a sly shrug and smile, as he pushed you against a table, trapping you between it and him.

“What the fuck, John?”

You try your best to shove him off, but it’s no use. Looking into his eyes with fear, his stare only appears predatory as one of his hands rests on your hip.

“What? You’re not gonna call me ‘sweetheart’ like you did with the monster? Hmm? Pretty thing like you dating both a man and a monster. What Brock not man enough for you? Need a monster to fuck you too? You really are a kinky little bitch. I like that.”

You were petrified, frozen in fear, as you prepared for him to kiss or grab you, but it never came. Instead you feel his body weight leave yours, and you see him thrown around the room.

Venom lets out a loud growl as he pinned him against the wall by his neck.

“How dare you speak to her like that! How dare you touch her!”

Still frozen from shock, you can’t move to stop him, and it seems like none of the rest of the team want to do anything either. John thrashes about in Venoms grip, and the team look like they’re trying to work out if and how to save him.

“This guys growing on me, I say we let him join,” Bucky laughs to Sam, everyone’s attention on Venom and not you.

Sam simply rolls his eyes at his friend and groans, realising he’s the one who has to stop all this.

“Alright, I think he’s had enough, big guy.”

You knew Sam wouldn’t be enough to stop him, and you didn’t want someone innocent being hurt by Venom.

“Venom!” You finally find your voice and call out.

You try to think of more to say, but as he and Eddie look at your trembling form, it’s enough for him to stop.

“My sweet,” Venom strides over to you, with each step he turns back into Eddie.

“Let’s get you outta here, sweetheart,” Eddie’s hand comes up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Um huh hmm, Eddie and Y/N, if you’d like to follow me, I can show you to a room for you to stay for the night,” Maria awkwardly interrupted, attempting to soothe the situation.

As if in a numb state, you simply followed Eddie while he gently drags you along. You seem to zone out the whole trip there, until you hear a buzz of your door opening.

“Come on, baby. Get you into bed and I’ll hold you.”

Eddie gently pulls you into the room, and begins to make you comfortable. Sweetly laying you down on the double bed, he takes off your shoes and socks, pulls the covers over you and crawls into bed on the other side of you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he gentle coaxes as he opens his arms.

The second you lay on his warm chest, a floodgate of tears fall down your face, and the fear and anxiety hits you all at once.

“I’m sorry, baby. We love you so much,” Eddie coos as he rocks you, safe in his arms.

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.

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. 

The Kay Princesses' Happily Ever After

This is intended to be Part 2 of The Kay Princesses

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: Deacon wants to marry you, but he has to ensure that his kids understand and agree before he proposes. Then, you have a special question for Lila.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, Annie's fate is up to you

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

A/N: While this is a part 2, it is written from a different POV. I think it could also be read as a standalone, but there are references to the events of part 1. I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Rules & Info

Deacon’s kids don’t get to visit him at HQ much anymore, so when they have a day off school and 20 Squad is on standby, he decides to take them by. His team loves seeing them and playing with them – none more than Luca. While they’re there, however, Deacon decides that today is also the day to ask them the most important question he may ever ask. He wants to marry you, he’s known that for much longer than he has had the ring, but he has to get their approval first. Since the beginning, you and he have both understood that if any of the kids said no, you would step back. Deacon prays that you don’t have to step back after walking so far together.

After he calls Matthew, Lila, and Samuel back to his side, he prepares to leave for the day.

“Hey, good luck, Deac!” Luca calls.

Deacon nods his head in thanks, then leads his kids back to the car. He gets to spend the afternoon with them for once, so he’ll ask them as soon as he finds the right words. They eat lunch together, then the kids go to their separate rooms to entertain themselves while Deacon cleans the kitchen.

When he’s done, Deacon takes a deep breath and walks to Lila’s room. She’ll probably say yes, but Deacon prepares himself for the worst. Her door is open, and she’s lying on her bed coloring.

“Lila, can we talk for a minute?” Deacon asks from the doorway of her room.

“Yeah, Daddy,” she answers.

Deacon nods, and Lila frowns at the look on his face. He’s nervous, and she can tell that something isn’t quite right. After he closes her door, he sits on the side of her bed and takes a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” Lila asks.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart, I just need to ask you something. But, if you want to say no, you can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Deacon says your name, then stops. He hasn’t told the kids how serious things have gotten with you yet. His team knows, of course, but this is the moment where a single word from any of his children could end what he has with you.

“I want to marry her,” Deacon adds softly. He smiles kindly at Lila before he asks, “Would you be alright with that?”

Lila slides her coloring book aside and climbs into Deacon’s lap. He holds her upright, so she doesn’t fall, and when she wraps her arms firmly around him, he tightens his grip on her.

“Will she live here?” Lila asks.

“Yes, or maybe we could get another house.” He doesn’t want to explain that if they don’t want you in the same house where they knew Annie, he’d move without question.

“And she’ll look like a princess in her white dress, right?”

Deacon smiles as he answers, “Absolutely. And you can wear a dress to be a princess, too.”

“I like her,” Lila says. “I want you to get married.”

Deacon sighs, and hugs Lila to his chest. He whispers that he loves her, and Lila laughs before she murmurs, “I know.”

When Deacon exits her room, he sees the sign hanging across the hall that says, ‘Boys Only (except Lila).’ Samuel will be easily convinced; he thinks you’re the greatest person ever because you know all the shortcuts in Candy Land. Matthew, however, despite having come a long way in his treatment of you, may not be so eager to welcome the idea of having you around all the time. Deacon knocks on the door, and it pushes open.

“Dad! Look!” Matthew calls. He holds up two toys that he has hooked together. “It worked.”

“That’s awesome, bud. Good job,” Deacon responds. “Can you take a break from playing for a minute? I need to ask you something.”

“You’re getting married?” Matthew guesses as he sets his modified toy aside.

“I- why do you think that?” Deacon asks.

“Uncle Luca told you good luck,” Samuel interjects. “Why do you need it?”

“Alright, boys, let’s go back. I want to get married, yes, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t. So, are you comfortable with her being here more?”

“Yes!” Samuel cheers. Deacon smiles, though he suspected as much.

“She’s not replacing Mom, right?” Matthew asks quietly.

“Not at all.”

Matthew nods. “You should do it, Dad. I like her, and she makes you happy.”

Deacon pulls Matthew into a hug without much thought. Matthew groans but returns the affection. Soon, there will be another Kay Princess in the house who may get an exception to the boys-only rule.

Kids are notoriously bad at keeping secrets, and the bigger the secret, the faster it will be shared. So, the moment Deacon learns that his kids like you and support his decision to marry you, he calls you. There’s not much planning or time to make the moment special, but Deacon can’t go another moment without asking you. As Hondo said, the ring is burning him after holding onto it for so long.

When you knock on Deacon’s door, you expect him to open it. Instead, Lila welcomes you in wearing her favorite dress.

“You look beautiful, Lila,” you tell her.

She hugs you, then leads you through the house and to the back door. Outside, the lights Deacon put up to decorate his backyard are aglow in the darkening dusk sky. Deacon stands beneath the tree in the center of the yard, and Matthew and Samuel wait on the deck.

“What’s going on?” you ask them.

Samuel presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head while Matthew answers, “A surprise. Dad wants to tell you.”

“Oh,” you reply softly.

Lila waves for you to go, and you walk off of the deck and into the grass. When you reach Deacon, his smile changes. He takes both of your hands and pulls you closer.

“Thanks for coming,” he begins.

“Of course. What’s going on?” you inquire. “This is beautiful, but…”

“You’re beautiful,” Deacon replies. “And you’re smart, caring, you love my kids… I love you, and every princess quality that you have. I can’t imagine my life without you on my team.”

Deacon releases your right hand as he kneels. Your eyes widen as he pulls a black box from his pocket.

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me, and being on my team, at my side, for the rest of our lives?”

You nod quickly, unable to speak past the tears pressing against your eyes. After a shaky breath, you mumble, “Yes, Deacon. Yes!”

He slides the ring onto your finger, and you don’t even look at it before you hug him. Deacon’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, and he holds you against him as he stands. Behind you, his kids cheer together. You pull back enough to kiss him, then look over your shoulder at Lila, Matthew, and Samuel.

“They’re okay with this?” you whisper.

“More than okay. They’re gaining another Kay princess in their lives, too,” Deacon assures you.

You watch Lila twirl in her dress and realize that they’re as much a part of this as you are.

“Deacon, can I ask Lila to be my maid of honor?”

Deacon smiles and kisses you again. Being a Kay princess is far more rewarding than you anticipated.

“Good morning,” Deacon greets when he answers the door. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome, as always,” you reply.

Deacon welcomes you in, and you kiss his cheek as you pass him.

“Is she ready?”

“Almost.” Deacon laughs before he drops his voice to explain, “She keeps changing. She wants to look perfect.”

“Then would you please take her this?”

You pass Deacon a pink gift bag, and he can’t deny your smile, so he delivers it to Lila’s room. Her squeal reaches your ears in the living room, and your smile widens as Deacon returns.

“What is it?” Deacon asks.

“A matching princess dress. Today had to be special.”

“Every day is special with you.”

“We match!” Lila exclaims.

You look away from Deacon to see her standing before you. She smiles at you before she rushes to hug you. At Deacon’s silent prompting, she thanks you for the dress.

“Well, we’re off to enjoy a princess day,” you tell Deacon.

“Enjoy. Call if you need anything.”

You promise to do just that, then take Lila’s hand and lead her outside. It’s a big day for both of you. Lila gets to live like a princess and spend the day with another girl, and you get to ask her to be your maid of honor. You don’t doubt that she’ll say yes, but just in case, you have a backup plan to involve her in the wedding party another way.

By lunch, Lila is getting tired. She doesn’t want to stop, however, until you tell her about a fairytale-themed restaurant you’d like to try. Easily convinced, you hold her hand as you enter the whimsical building and are led to your seats.

“Lila, have you ever been to a wedding?” you ask her.

“Mmhmm. One of Dad’s work friends,” she answers.

“Do you know what a maid of honor is?” Lila shakes her head, so you ask, “What about a bridesmaid?”

“The girls who stand with the bride?”

“Yep, those are bridesmaids. But the one that stands closest to the bride is called a maid of honor, and it’s usually the bride’s best friend or a girl who is really, really important to her.”

Lila nods along with your explanation, and when you see your waitress returning with your glittery pink princess drinks, you decide to ask sooner rather than later. You set an envelope on the table, with her name written elegantly across the front.

“Would you like to be my maid of honor, Lila?” you ask.

The waitress stops when she hears your question. She smiles and nods to assure you it’s fine to finish before she delivers your beverages.

“Like your best friend?” Lila whispers.

“Yeah. Because you’re super special.”

“And we’re both Dad’s princesses?”

You smile and answer, “That too.”

“Really?”

“Open the letter.”

Lila pulls the card out of the envelope. It’s a picture of a castle with two princesses curtseying, and underneath it reads, “Join me on our special day?”

“Yes!” Lila answers. “I want to!”

She slides out of her seat and rounds the table. Lila hugs you tightly, and you pull the chair beside you out so that she can stay on the same side of the table as you.

“Congratulations, your highnesses,” your waitress says. “I’m sure you’ll be the best maid of honor ever.”

“Thank you!” Lila replies.

“Thank you,” you add.

“So, what do I do?” Lila asks you.

“Lots of things. But I think we should get some lunch before we go shopping for your maid of honor dress.”

Lila quickly agrees and leans against your arm to look at the menu with you.

The morning of your wedding is spent getting ready with your closest friends and family. Luca and Street invite themselves into the bridal suite as well when they hear from Lila that you have snacks.

“Are you nervous?” Luca asks. “Deacon’s reviewed his vows like fifteen times.”

“Should I be?” you reply. “Because I’ve honestly never been this happy and excited in my life.”

“Me neither!” Lila agrees, swishing the skirt of her dress around her legs.

“Deac just wants it to be perfect, special for all of you,” Street adds.

“I would’ve married him at the courthouse the morning after he proposed,” you point out. “It’s already more perfect than I ever expected.”

“We’ll tell him that as soon as we’re done,” Street says, reaching for another cookie.

“Aren’t groomsmen supposed to stay with the groom?” you ask Luca.

“He told me to bring Lila back,” Luca argues. “Never said I had to return by a certain time.”

“Have you seen Deacon cry?” Street asks.

“No,” you say. “Why?”

“Because he is absolutely going to cry when you walk down the aisle, and during your vows, and again after it’s official.”

Luca nods in agreement, and you turn to make sure your mascara is waterproof.

When you step out onto the aisle, your eyes meet Deacon’s and everything else fades away. All that matters in this moment is Deacon Kay and the life you’re entering with him. Which includes his kids. Lila is waiting beside your spot with a smile, Matthew stands between Luca and Deacon on the other side, and Samuel is waving from the front row after delivering the rings to the officiant.

As you begin walking toward Deacon, you notice that he is crying. You blink quickly to clear your own vision, but the tears don’t dampen your smile or Deacon’s. When you reach the altar, you lower gently toward Lila. Matthew and Samuel come to your side as well, just as you practiced.

“Thank you for letting me be part of your life,” you tell them. “I love you, Lila, Samuel, and Matthew.”

They hug you tightly, and Deacon wipes his eyes as you all return to your places. He takes your hands as the officiant welcomes everyone in attendance. You read your vows first, and Deacon cries again. When he begins his vows, however, you are very glad you double-checked that your makeup wouldn’t be ruined.

“… and you’re the most incredible princess I’ve ever had the joy of meeting,” Deacon says. The people around you chuckle, and you smile as you squeeze his hand. “Being loved by you is more special than any title I could have or other life I could live. I promise to treat you like the princess you are and love you more with each breath.”

You chuckle wetly, and Lila taps your side. She passes you a tissue, which makes everyone laugh, and you thank her before you use it to dry your cheeks.

“With those vows – and tears – you will now exchange rings.”

You slide Deacon’s simple band onto his finger, then offer your hand for your matching ring. The moment you are finished, the officiant pronounces you and Deacon man and wife, then steps aside for your first kiss. Just as when you walked down the aisle, everything fades away as you kiss Deacon, your husband, for the first time.

When you step back, your friends and family are cheering, and you pull Lila into a tight hug.

“Thanks for being a princess with me,” you say.

“We’re always princesses!” she replies with a giggle.

“Kay princesses,” Deacon agrees, wrapping his arms around both of you.

Meet My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!baker!reader

Summary: Street is ready to introduce you to his family. You become fast friends with his SWAT team, but meeting his mother is a difficult challenge. After she tries to scare you away from Street, he faces a tough decision about who he considers family.

Warnings: Karen is Karen, Jim Street is a flirt™️, brief angst, fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Hey, handsome,” you greet before kissing Jim’s cheek.

“Hi,” he responds slowly, his eyes narrowed as he watches you. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?” you ask, blinking innocently.

“Because you met me at the door with a kiss and it smells like cookies in here.”

“I am a baker.”

“And I’m a cop. I can read you, babe.”

“Babe?” you repeat with a smile. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Not until you tell me what you want,” Street stipulates, failing to hide his smile.

“You said you were ready to introduce me to your team. And I accidentally tripled a few trial recipes, so I have a ton of cookies right now.”

“You want to bribe them,” he concludes, nodding.

“Not exactly what I meant, but… yeah.”

“Are you sure? They can be a lot. They’re going to like you, probably more than they like me, but I didn’t say I wanted to introduce you to rush you into anything.”

“You’re not rushing me. I’m ready to meet them. They’re important to you, and I love you.”

“Enough to save some cookies for me?”

“Of course.”

Less than half an hour after arriving at the station, Chris inhales deeply and says, “I love you.”

You smile as Street asks, “Because of the cookies?”

“Really?” Hondo asks you. “Street?”

“I see why he hid you,” Tan says, reaching for another cookie. “We’re going to need the address of your bakery.”

“The cookies aren’t the only reason we like you,” Luca explains. “You’re great for Street.”

“He’s great for me,” you reply. “But I’m glad you like the cookies, too.”

“How’d you meet?” Deacon inquires.

“He stole a cake.”

“I did not steal it,” Street corrects, looking at you as if you just accused him of murder. “I accidentally knocked it out of her window.”

“How do you accidentally knock a cake out of a window?” Hondo asks.

“I’ve asked the same thing almost daily since we started dating and I’ve never gotten a clear answer,” you say.

“Did you start dating after that?” Chris wonders.

“The same day,” Street brags. “I apologized for ruining the cake, and when I saw her, I had to ask her out.”

Hondo looks at you for confirmation, and you shrug. It’s close enough to the truth. Street tried to salvage the cake, offering apology after apology until you laughed. He looked up at you, with cake and frosting up to his elbows, and couldn’t find any more words to say. He finally blurted out a proposal to buy you dinner, and you haven’t looked back since.

“You should come to dinner with us on Friday,” Hondo tells you. “We’re going to a diner that just opened on Wilshire.”

“I’d love to,” you reply. “I’m sorry if I overstepped by just showing up today with no notice.”

“Family can drop by anytime,” Luca assures you.

After you say your farewells and gather the now empty cookie trays, you exchange numbers with Chris and talk to her about some of your shared favorite recipes. Meanwhile, the guys tell Street you’re perfect for him and welcome anytime, whether you’re bearing baked goods or not.

“How long have you been together?” Deacon asks him.

“About a month,” Street answers.

“What does your mom think about the new relationship?” Hondo inquires.

Street looks at you, where you’re laughing with Chris, then admits, “She doesn’t know. I wanted to introduce her to my actual family first.”

Deacon pats Street’s shoulder and encourages him to do what he thinks is best.

“We are your family, kid,” Hondo promises. “And we’re here for you – both of you.”

Street stops outside his door. He begins speaking but doesn’t get past your name before trailing off.

“I know,” you whisper comfortingly. “I’m here for you, Jim. Not your mom. And if she doesn’t like me, that’s okay. At the end of the day, it’s your decision about who you love, not hers. You know that, right?”

“I do. Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Street takes your hand and leads you into his apartment. His mom is living with him temporarily while she gets on her feet again and figures out what exactly she’s going to do for the remainder of her parole – or so she says.

“Jimmy!” she greets warmly. When she sees you, her smile drops.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend,” he introduces. “And this is my mom, Karen Street.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Street,” you greet with a smile, offering your hand.

“You too,” she answers. She then turns to Street, wiping the hand she used to shake yours on her pants, and says, “I couldn’t remember how to use the coffee maker. Could you show me again?”

“I’ll just make you some right now,” he offers before asking if you want anything.

“No, thanks,” you answer softly. Sitting with Karen, you ask how her day is going so far.

“Let’s just skip all the niceties since Jimmy isn’t here,” she interrupts. “You know as well as I do it will never work out. My Jimmy is a cop, he’s handsome, and you’re… a baker? Do you honestly see that working?”

Your smile droops, but you’re unwilling to let Karen Street deter you or scare you away from dating the man who makes you happy.

“We can make it work,” you answer. “I’m sorry that you feel that way.”

“It would be in your best interest to leave,” she snaps.

“Here you go, Mom,” Street says, placing a steaming mug of coffee beside her.

Karen looks between you and Street, then asks, “Could I speak to you alone, Jimmy?”

“Mom,” he begins, shaking his head.

“I actually need to use the restroom,” you offer, standing.

Street nods, points you in the right direction, then takes your previous seat. He brushes his fingers against yours as you pass him and prepares for his mother to be back to her usual antics.

“That girl is not good for you, Jimmy,” she warns. “She’s rude, uncaring, and she told me that I was a bad mother! Can you believe that? She practically admitted to using you for your law enforcement ties and for money.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Street replies, knowing perfectly well that you didn’t say anything rude or about using him.

Karen gets desperate then, unwilling to lose Street because he’s her access to everything. Jim can get her everything she needs and wants, and she will not let you win him over and take him from her.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, not to you,” Karen continues. “She mentioned another man, so I’d bet she’s not loyal. And you, Jimmy, are the most loyal and caring person I’ve ever met. I don’t want to see her hurt you.”

You linger by the door and scroll on your phone in the bathroom. You’re going to give Street and his mom five minutes to talk, you decide. Smiling as you reply to a message from Chris, you don’t concern yourself with hypothesizing what Karen is saying about you. When you do return, Street stands and rises from his seat.

“Did Chris text you too?” he asks. “About coming over to help with the paint?”

“She did,” you reply, following his lead. Chris texted about helping her paint; that wasn't a lie, but she doesn't need help until next weekend. If Street’s taking it as an out, you’ll go with him. You’d go anywhere with him, you think. “It was a pleasure,” you tell Karen. “I made blueberry scones earlier and thought you might like them. They're on the counter.”

“Thank you,” she replies flatly. “Be safe, Jimmy.”

“I’ll be back later, Mom,” he assures her.

As the door closes behind you, Street sighs and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon, homewrecker,” he murmurs.

With a laugh, you ask, “What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I need ice cream.”

“And cookies?”

“So many cookies.”

After arriving at your home, you share a plate of fresh cookies and homemade ice cream with Street. He stays close to you, stealing kisses between cookies, and makes you feel incredibly loved. As always.

“Now that you’ve met the family, what do you think?” he inquires.

“If you and Tan ever get tired of SWAT, you should do standup comedy,” you begin.

As you continue raving about 20-David squad and envisioning yourself staying friends with them for years to come, Street smiles. He knew his team would like you, but he’s glad you’re joining the group as seamlessly as he hoped you would.

“Oh, Deacon texted me yesterday,” you remember. “I’m making Sam a birthday cake.”

“Charge him double,” Street jokes.

“I said Deacon not Hondo.”

“You talk to my friends more than I do.”

“They’re great.”

“But my mom is insane.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up straight. Pulling your leg beneath you, you promise, “I was not going to say that.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a question,” Street assures you, tugging you closer. “You’re not going to see her again unless you really want to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. My mom… My mom isn’t good for me, I’ve known that for a long time. Today, she showed me that she isn’t good for you either, and, if she can’t be supportive of us, I’m done. She’s pulled me in too deep before and I’m not going to let her do it again.”

“She’s your mother, Street.”

“And I’m not risking what I have with you for her manipulative schemes. I think I have to cut that tie before I give her something I can’t get back.”

You nod, frowning sympathetically. You feel uncomfortable giving input on the situation because it’s Street’s decision. As you hug him, he knows exactly what he has to do. His mom was scared of losing him, but she was going to be the one to drive him away.

“Is that why you called me a homewrecker earlier?” you ask against Street’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, she thinks you’re seeing other men. Just using me for my loyalty, good looks, and SWAT money.”

“Please,” you scoff. “That order is way off.”

Street gently pries your arms off of him and shakes his head. “Apparently you also called her a bad mother and if she were a fraction less manipulative and self-serving I’d think she was finally engaging in some reflection.”

“I’m sorry that your relationship is the way it is,” you offer. “But I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

Street looks at the last cookie, and you smile as you nudge him toward it. Someone knocks on your door, and you leave Street’s side to answer it.

“Uh, I think it’s for you,” you murmur as you open the door wider.

Deacon, Hondo, Tan, Chris, and Luca walk into your home and look expectantly at Street.

“She didn’t like her,” he answers with a shrug. “Hondo was right.”

“Say that one more time?” Hondo requests, raising his phone to record it.

“No.”

“It smells good in here,” Luca whispers to you.

“There’s cookies and a cake in the kitchen,” you tell them. “I still can’t get that cake right. The one time I made a passable version, someone knocked it out of my window.”

Street prepares to defend himself, but you whisper, “Luckily for me, I fell in love with him.”

“So,” Hondo begins as he returns from the kitchen. “How’d it go with your mom?”

“As expected,” Street says quickly. He turns to you and says, “I love you, too.”

A few weeks later, you wait at your open door for Street to arrive. His mom is going back to jail for a parole violation, and his entire team came by your bakery today after a stressful day of saving lives and arresting domestic terrorists. Now, you want to provide Street with the comfort he gives you daily.

“I love you,” Street says as he hugs you.

“I love you,” you reply, brushing your hand over his hair. “Come on in, I have something I want to show you.”

Street nods, catches your falling hand, and follows you inside. Sitting on the counter is a cake that looks nearly identical to the one that brought you together.

“I didn’t get to taste the first one, so I need you to let me know if this is a redemption cake.”

Street forces you to take several pictures with the cake before he takes a small bite. His eyes widen, and he nods rapidly.

“It tastes similar, but even better,” he says. “Can we have this at our wedding?”

“Sure,” you answer with a smile.

Street offers you his fork, and you admit it’s a good cake.

“Speaking of our wedding,” you say after taking another bite, “your future groomsmen invited us to dinner at Deacon and Annie’s tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I should introduce you to Annie.”

“We’ve already been texting.”

Street shakes his head and kisses you before reminding you that he loves you. "And the cake," he adds as he pulls back and steals another piece.