#wesley rush

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Favorite Otps/Pairings: Wesley Rush & Bianca Piper (The Duff) "Aren't you gonna go get your crown? No, I'm gonna get the girl."

[realzayn]

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝑼𝑭𝑭 (𝐻𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ #1) 📚🪨💘

✍🏽: 𝐊𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

[boseobrien]

OMG another teen movie where the outcast girl is tutoring the jock with a heart of gold for something in return 😭

THIS IS BOMIKA AU'S BRAND.

[mikesfilmtalk]

Haunting of the Queen Mary: Confusing Muddle

The 2023 film Haunting of the Queen Mary is a confusing muddle. A parallel storyline mirroring current action leaves to many holes to fill. There are some good moments, but not enough to quantify spending almost two hours watching the movie. The Story? Apparently, there are several gruesome murders committed on the ocean liner. The Queen Mary, a real ocean liner, barely survives a rogue wave…

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

📸NO PHOTOS PLEASE📸

[soulsmashers]

          “i  was  going  to,  but  i  don't  think  you  would  have  been  happy.”  he  pauses,  beginning  to  nod  his  head,  holding  back  a  chuckle.  “so  maybe  i  should  have  done  it  then.”  it  could  have  been  easy  revenge  for  some  of  jack's  past  behavior,  but  even  with  everything,  wesley  was  joking.  he  wasn't  going  to  wake  him  up,  especially  knowing  how  drunk  he  had  been  last  night.

          “well,  i  wouldn't  know,  but  i  think  it's  the  same  for  everyone  early  in  the  morning  when  they  wake  up.”  he  states  matter-of-factly,  a  smile  coming  onto  his  lips. “i  hope  you  at  least  like  the  pastries  even  if  the  coffee  was  a  miss.”  he  really  likes  the  pastries.  then  again,  wesley  is  a  major  fan  of  sweets.

          “a  strip  tease?  for  me?”  he  asks,  overdramatically  bringing  his  hand  to  his  chest,  mouth  agape  in  awe.  “who  even  are  you  right  now?”  he's  only  half  joking.  up  until  not  even  a  month  ago,  wesley  was  convinced  jack  didn't  want  to  be  associated  with  him,  now  he's  willing  to  perform  a  strip  tease  for  him?  he  can't  say  he  doesn't  totally  love  this.  still,  he  shrugs  casually,  playing  it  off  as  if  he  wouldn't  totally  enjoy  that,  when  the  truth  is  that  he  most  definitely  would.  “i  don't  know  if  i  would.  i  think  i'd  have  to  actually  see  that  unfold,  you  know?”  he  doesn't  bother  to  hold  back  his  shit  eating,  teasing  smirk,  one  that  easily  gives  him  away.  “just  to  be  sure  if  i'd  like  it  or  not.”

"you could've woken me up!" jack responds for the sake of the continued playfulness of their conversation, not because he would've preferred that wesley had woken him up. then again, if that would've meant getting hot coffee it might have been worth it... but that didn't stop him from continuing to drink it.

"is my breath that bad?" he laughed, "i promise, i'll brush it as soon as i've finished my breakfast." he made a point of taking another, large bite out of the pastry. the sooner he finished the better.

"oh i know what you meant," he chuckled as he moved closer to his boyfriend. "is that so?" he arched an eyebrow, "maybe i'll have to make a point of wearing them more often. maybe i can do a little strip tease for you? would you like that?"

[ryukang1995]

The Blade and Rush Hour trilogies.

[wesleyscreaming]

god is real but unfortunately she only resides in the walk in freezer at the burger king i worked at when i was sixteen. tried to get her out of there but she says she loves the frozen fries too much to ever leave them

[glfc2112]

YYNOT presents Bubba Bash January 7, 2023 Keswick Theater Glenside, Pennsylvania Bubba Bash takes place on the third anniversary of Neil Peart’s death.  All proceeds go to benefit Cedars Sinai.  Check the following links for tickets and auction items. Here is the Blabbermouth article on the event.  Get your tickets before they are sold out.  It’s one event you don’t want to miss. Auction items - YYNOT.com Tickets - https://bit.ly/3FAaT6U

[fluentmoviequoter]

Carry Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Tim carrying your son out of the hospital is the cutest thing you've ever seen, and you make sure you'll never forget it.

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

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

“How many times is this?” Angela asks.

Angela, Lucy, and Wesley have been in and out of the hospital room several times since you arrived. Tim, however, doesn’t seem to remember how to sit down. He has paced, left, and come back more times than you can count. The moment you were given discharge paperwork, he began going back and forth to the car.

“Uh, six, I think,” you answer.

Lucy is holding your son, and you are changed and ready to go. The only thing keeping you at the hospital is Tim. He left this time to “get the car seat” so you’re hoping that he plans to leave this time.

“You’re so cute,” Lucy whispers.

“Thanks,” you and Angela say together.

“That never stops being funny,” Wesley teases as he returns. “Where’s Tim?”

“The car,” you, Lucy, and Angela answer together.

“Again?”

Lucy chuckles, and your baby reaches a hand up toward her. Wesley moves to stand beside her and extends a finger toward the blue bundle.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Tim announces as he returns with the car seat.

“Are you sure? Did you check the brake pads, too?” Angela replies.

“Funny. Are you ready?”

You nod and extend an arm toward Tim. He rounds the bed and takes your hand, which you use to pull him closer.

“Well, baby Bradford and I will see you around then,” Lucy says.

Tim rolls his eyes and gently removes his hand from yours. He takes his son from Lucy’s hold, and you smile as Tim’s eyes light up when he looks down at him.

“I’ll make sure to keep Aunt Lucy far away from you, buddy,” he murmurs. “She gets annoying.”

“Hey!” Lucy exclaims. “Don’t lie to him and turn him against me. We’re best friends.”

“Your best friend is a baby?”

“You know what I mean! You just called me Aunt Lucy!”

“And we look forward to seeing you at the house next week. Not a moment before, understood?”

“Angela got an open invite,” Lucy grumbles.

“Angela has kids, and we trust her,” Tim argues.

“What he means is that we want some quiet for a few days. Not that having you around hasn’t been great, we just need the downtime,” you explain. “I’ll send pictures.”

“Thank you,” Lucy says. “I have to go, but I’ll see you when I’m invited.”

“Have a good day, Lucy,” Tim says.

“Do you need anything else?” Angela asks as she stands.

“I don’t think so,” you answer. “Thank you for everything, Angela.”

She hugs you quickly before saying, “Of course. Call if you need anything else.”

You smile as she leaves and wish Wesley luck in his upcoming court case.

“Seriously,” Wesley says as he stops in the doorway. “Call anytime for anything.”

“Thanks, Wesley,” Tim says.

After they leave, you stand and Tim rushes toward you. His hands find their place on either side of your waist, and you lean against him to look at your baby boy, snug in his new car seat. He’s asleep, with a happy smile on his face, and you know Tim’s smile matches it perfectly. Seeing your husband reflected in your son is one of the best things you have ever seen, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone other than Tim Bradford.

“Are you ready to go now?” you ask.

“I’m sorry I made you wait, I just needed to be sure everything was perfect. As perfect as it can be, at least,” Tim replies with a kiss on your head.

“I get it. Thank you, for everything.”

Tim turns you away from the car seat and kisses you quickly. He’d been at work when your water broke and your contractions grew close together, yet he picked you up and got you to the hospital with several minutes to spare before you went into active labor. The whole time, Tim was right by your side, and you’ve fallen more in love with him through each moment of your pregnancy.

“You’re sure you’re okay to walk?” Tim double-checks.

You nod and reach for the overnight bag you brought with you. Tim huffs as he gently knocks your hand out of the way. He pulls the bag over his shoulder and then reaches for the car seat handle.

“You can’t carry everything, Tim,” you argue.

“I can,” he answers quickly. “That’s what these muscles are for.”

You chuckle behind him, but when Tim raises the car seat, his back muscles flexing under his shirt, you stop laughing. Everything about this moment is perfect, and watching Tim walk ahead of you brings you joy. It’s adorable, how he glances down at his sleeping son every few steps and shifts the car seat to find the most comfortable position for both of them. You pull your phone out and take a short recording as you follow them down the hall, though you doubt you’ll ever forget this moment.

“Why are you way back there?” Tim asks as he turns at the elevator.

“Just enjoying the view,” you say. “You’re even cuter when you’re carrying a baby, you know.”

“Weird. You were cute carrying the baby, too.”

You kiss Tim’s cheek before leaning against his side. When the elevator opens, Tim keeps you against one side and your baby on the other. Though you can’t see the same adorable view as before, walking beside Tim has always been more comfortable. It’s where you fit, where you belong, and where you always want to be.

There’s a goodie bag in the passenger seat of Tim’s truck, but he shrugs when you ask what it is. The tag says it’s from the best aunts in the world, and you immediately text Lucy and Angela to thank them. After Tim makes sure the car seat is in properly and your baby is as safe and comfortable as possible, he climbs into the driver’s seat and looks at you.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing. I just love you,” he answers.

“I love you too.”

Tim leans over the center console to kiss you quickly. The first few minutes of the drive, you twist in your seat to watch the back of the car seat and make sure everything looks okay. Then, you watch the video of Tim walking before you in the hospital.

“What is that?” Tim asks.

“You.”

“Why did you record that?”

“Because it was adorable, and I love both of you. Oh! We need to get a picture of all three of us.”

Tim passes you his phone and tells you to check the camera roll. Someone, Angela, you assume, took dozens of pictures of you and Tim lying in the hospital bed and looking lovingly at the baby boy in your arms. There are pictures of everyone with the baby, but a particularly good one of Tim holding him quickly becomes your lock screen.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you,” Tim promises. “And I’ll never stop showing you… But I’m going to need an equally ‘adorable’ video now.”

You laugh, but quickly slap a hand over your face when your son stirs in the backseat. He coos, and you and Tim smile at one another before exiting the truck to take your baby home.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Art of Persistence

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a long day, you return home to the comfort of your two favorite boys.

warnings: swearing, brief misogyny, Frank being adorable

a/n: For the lovely @zomtart who wanted to see something with Frank and a dog! As always, reblogs and comments fuel my writing!

w/c: 2.1k

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.” Albert Ellis

Walking through the doors into the bakery, your heart sank. It was going to be a long day, you could smell it on the air. The humidity seeping through the cracks in the doors had made the atmosphere purgatorial. You could feel the heat clouding around you, the air laden with moisture only made stickier by the ovens inside. Blowing a frustrated breath out of your nose, you gave a pleasant nod to your manager as she slunk past you towards her office.

“Good morning to you too,” You muttered, stalking into the back to set down your bag.

You were rapidly approaching your breaking point. Each inhale flooded your senses with the aroma of toasted sesame and melted butter--the combination turning sour after a week of beligerent customers and stressful shifts. If you didn't need the money, you'd have called out. Unfortunately, those precious wages and tips were keeping you afloat right now.

Tossing a thin canvas string over your neck, you secured the flashy red apron around your waist with a tight knot, not minding the line of pain that encircled you as you yanked at the ends. Pinning your worn name tag to your chest, you spun on your heel and headed for the counter.

Today was a new day. It would be busy, Mondays always were, but that didn't mean it would be bad. Right..?

Lamentably, by the time the morning rush had ended and you were finally able to slip into the break room for a moment away from the chaos, you were confident today would be the same as every other day. In a period of three hours, it had all gone to shit. Two of your coworkers had called out, throwing you and the one other reliable employee to the wolves. One particularly aggressive customer had thrown a cup of scalding coffee at you—claiming it was burnt after the tiniest sip you’d ever seen. And, the cherry on top of the crappy day you were having, you'd burnt the shit out of your hand pulling a bagel out of the toaster for a family that wouldn't stop nagging you. Fuck your well-being, they had places to go.

The circulation to your legs was slowly being cut off by the tourniquet you'd accidentally tied your waist in, but you couldn't be bothered to fix it. Staring wearily at your bandaged hand your body trembled with fatigue, discomfort, and residual adrenaline. Pulling out your phone, you positioned it in your good hand, selecting the proper contact and crossing your fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, please—

“Hey doll, did you need somethin'?” Frank's gruff voice crackled over the line, relief crashing over you as it did. Your body sagged at the question, the idea that you weren't handling it all alone.

“Um, yah, I was wondering if you could take Wes out for me? A handful of people didn't come in so I'm stuck working a shift and a half.” You nibbled at the skin on your bottom lip, hoping Frank wouldn't be annoyed that you asked him to care for your dog again this week.

You'd gotten Wesley as a puppy about a year ago, after a friend found him and his siblings abandoned in a nearby park. He was the last to be adopted, but you just couldn't deny his sweet little face. Unsurprisingly, the pair of you got along swimmingly.

The only problem arose at times like these, when your manager demanded that you stay past your scheduled end time to fulfill someone else's obligations. Wes was a good boy, but he could only hold out for so long without needing to pee or expend some energy. When you weren't there to play fetch or run around the block, you often turned to your partner for help.

You knew Frank adored your rambunctious pup, but the thought of adding more to his plate for any reason always made you guilty. He was busy, he had his own life and job and shit to do. Wes was your responsibility. Frank hadn't signed up for this, nor was he being compensated for his time. You really needed to hire a dog walker or something, that just wasn't an option given your slim budget right now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. I’ll head to your place when I can. You know when you'll be home?” As always, Frank accepted the burden immediately, without so much as an irritated sigh. His readiness to care for you and your four-legged roommate never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Around 6, if I'm lucky. I know that's late—” You rubbed at the back of your neck, grimacing as your fingers were met with warm, clammy skin.

“Don't worry about that, doll, you ain't the reason for that.” Frank reasoned, his patience only fueling the flames of guilt swirling around you.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who could be at fault.” You laughed bitterly, swallowing the despair coating your tongue.

“No, you aren't.” Frank protested firmly. “Ain't your fault your boss wants you to stay, babydoll. You're just doin' whatcha can to stay employed. No shame in that.”

Your eyes fell closed as you let out a breath you hadn't meant to hold. Frank's response was tender, effortlessly caring, as if he was there rubbing your back and calming you down. Soothing your doubts with every syllable. He understood the pressure you were under and he never blamed you for it.

“Thank you.” You whispered, the longing you felt to be with him only intensifying as he comforted you from a distance.

“No need to thank me, honey. Just get home safe, yah?” The concerned edge that perpetually lined Frank's words tipped the corners of your lips into a smile.

“Ok.” You promised, bidding him goodbye.

The rest of your day slogged along like a fish attempting to swim through jello. Slow, awkward, and unbelievably messy. Each interaction corroded your dwindling social battery, wearing your patience thin. It took every fiber of your being to not scream right back at the customers as they demanded ridiculous things from you.

Oh your espresso isn’t coming fast enough? Why don’t you come around the counter and make it your damn self. 

Rolling your eyes at the annoyed tone of the customer begging for the drink, you pretended not to hear him as you steamed milk for another order. 

“Geez bitch, are you deaf?” 

You barely registered his muttered comment, but it struck you like a blade anyway. Fist clenching around his cup, your fingernails punctured the cheap, waxy paper, splattering the freshly brewed espresso over your work station. 

“Oh no!! I’m so sorry sir, I’ll make you a new one.” Shooting the fuming man your best try at an innocent, I’m-simply-so-ditsy smile, you tossed the ruined cup into a nearby trash can gracefully. With growing satisfaction, you took your sweet time restarting the beverage, hoping the asshole would burn his tongue the second you handed it over. 

Shoving the tiny cup across the counter, you cemented your beaming smile in place as the dude snatched it from your grip without a word. 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You muttered as he slammed the door on his way out. A glance to the clock quickly lifted your spirits. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the shift from hell would be over. You’d collect your tips and bolt before your supervisor asked for something else. 

Behind you, your next problem cleared their throat. Whipping around to face the uptight, blazer-clad woman, you raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?” 

Fumbling with the keys on your ring, your fingers hadn’t even lined the correct one up with the lock when the bolt thunked, the door sliding open. Standing on the other side of the frame, taking up most of your frame of vision with his broad stature, was Frank.

Tumbling into him, you groaned happily as his giant arms engulfed you, his stomach shaking with a brief laugh.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We both did.” Pulling back slightly, Frank jerked his head to the wiggling golden retriever who was barely containing his excitement a few paces away.

Squeezing through the door past your hulking boyfriend, you knelt before your ecstatic canine, opening your arms for him to clamber into. Hugging your dog as he wriggled and chirped happily wasn't easy, but it made your heart swell with adoration every time you tried.

The way your dog reacted when you came home from work was nothing less than an ego boost. Poor Wes could never seem to keep still, too overwhelmed with joy and love that his tail swished wildly, shaking his whole body. Once you were within kissing distance, Wesley was determined to slobber all over you, reminding you just how much he'd missed you while you were away. These moments made all the hardship worth it.

Crouching behind you, Frank's hand slid beneath your raised elbow to scratch at Wesley's back, crowding in until you were fully leaning against him. You exhaled, sinking into his chest as he tugged you impossibly closer. Trailing kisses down the side of your face towards your shoulder, Frank rumbled with a chuckle as your dog plopped over the pile of legs, rolling belly up with an open-mouthed smile.

“Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be the favorite.” Frank remarked, giving Wes a firm rub on his stomach.

“Well, I do feed him.” You snorted, scratching at your dog's ear. “Seems to be the key to both of your hearts.”

“Got that right,” Frank agreed, squeezing you tightly until you giggled. “Did your shift go ok?”

Puffing out a breath, you shrugged, turning your head so he could see your face. “Only got called a bitch once so, I'd say that's a win.”

Scoffing indignantly, Frank scowled. “Gimme a name, sweetheart.”

“Frank,” You groaned, not unhappily. “If I let the Punisher loose on every asshole that came through the shop, we'd have a massacre on your hands.”

“I'd do it anyway. They deserve it, treatin' service workers like that.” Frank grumbled, nuzzling your cheek.

Your hand slid up to the base of his scalp, twisting the edges of his hair in your fingers. “I appreciate it, handsome. But I'm ok, promise.”

“Did ya make good tips at least?” His question was genuine, his expression almost hopeful, but you barked a laugh anyways.

“Take a guess.” Your voice was bitter, thinking of all the ungrateful patrons you'd had in the last twelve hours.

“Hmm,” Frank pondered. “Twenty?”

“Fuck Frankie, I wish.” You rolled your eyes. “Two bucks.”

“You're shittin' me.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, I am telling the god's honest truth.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Two bucks. Fuckin' hell.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw as his anger roiled deep within. “I'm so sorry, doll.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You pouted, feelings of inadequacy mingling with the fear of being utterly stuck in this dead-end job. “I hate asking you to help with Wes every damn day. You deserve better.”

“Hey now, don't you go worryin your pretty little head about me,” Frank scolded gently. “You're the one who don't deserve to be treated this way.”

“Don't have much of a choice, do I?” You wondered aloud, shoulders curling in as you descended back into hopelessness. “I need this job.”

“Then you'll stick with it for now,” Frank proposed. “And I'll help ya find somethin' better in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that Frank,” You objected, letting him slip out from under you and offer you a hand up.

“I know I don't have to, darlin'. I want to.” Kissing your lips tenderly, Frank cupped your cheek as heat rushed to your face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, chest tightening with emotion.

“Anytime, gorgeous.” Frank winked at you, bringing a smile back to your face.

A piercing squeak caught your attention, drawing it towards the floor where an impatient Wesley displayed a plush toy you didn't recognize.

“Did you buy him a toy?” You asked Frank, knowing grin creeping over your face as the man blushed bright pink, shrugging one shoulder. Bending down, you tugged at the arm of the wooly sheep, pretending that you were grabbing it for yourself until Wesley ran off, squeaking it victoriously.

“Needed somethin' to do and he seemed bored, so we took a walk to the pet store on 45th.” The embarrassed man mumbled, rubbing at his nape and averting his gaze.

“Aw, Frankie,” Winding your arms back around Frank's tree trunk waist, you peppered kisses across his face. ”That's so sweet of you.“

“It's nothin', really,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“Sure, tough guy. It's nothin',” You smirked, clenching your arms one final time before gripping his hand. “Come sit, we can order dinner and play with Wes.”

Planting a firm kiss against your hairline, your scalp tickled as Frank smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @vsplanet @pigeonmama

[boseobrien]

What cause why are Bianca and Wes giving sm chiles rn?? "You look handsome" why would he tell her that and mean it 😭

[axen-gers]

even in death

fred weasley one shot

fred weasley x slytherin! reader

warnings: mentions of fred dying, george being depressed, afab reader, grieving/grief, slytherin reader

It was rather noticeable that someone was missing at the Weasley's dinner table.

There was a rather tense silence that was held over the table while everyone glanced between the two people who had been blaming themselves since getting back home.

George Weasley had his head between his hands. His leg was shaking violently while he stared into space. Fred was never meant to die. Had George of been there, he would’ve pushed Fred out of the way. Fred had something to live for.

Fred had you.

Now George was left to manage the shop by himself. He was no longer a twin.

George Weasley was no longer a twin.

That realization had him standing up in a rush before heading up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. Molly Weasley followed up after her son, giant tears gracing her cheeks as she rushed after him.

Now the focus was left on you.

You and Fred had been an unlikely couple. You were a Slytherin. The enemy as Ron had called you when he first met you in his first year.

Fred Weasley had always been in love with you though.

No matter what his parents told him about your family and its reputation. He still loved the way you smiled and how your eyes shined when you talked about something you liked.

Fred Weasley was gone though.

There would be no more nights talking about teaching at Hogwarts. There would be no more nights of stolen kisses and tears of joy. There would be no more talks of having children and getting married.

Fred Weasley was gone.

You were left with his family, in the first house you felt safe in. You were supposed to become a Weasley.

Fred Wesley was gone.

The only fragment left of him was currently sobbing in his mother’s arms sitting on his twin's bed upstairs. His sister and brothers had their partners wrapped in their arms as if that would keep them safe.

It reminded you of being in school, being the only person who wasn’t asked to the yule ball until Fred asked you the night before. It reminded you of never going to Hogsmeade with someone on Valentine’s Day.

Fred was always there to make you not feel alone.

But even in death, Fred Weasley was still there holding you in a ghostly grasp making sure you never felt alone.

[chiefdirector]

Adjusting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One

In the following days and weeks, the Mid-Wilshire division worked tirelessly to try to uncover any more leads, trying to figure out who had caused so much chaos and destruction, and more so why they had not caused any more yet. The ordinary everyday was unnerving when you’re being watched. But they all continued onwards, it’s all they could do.

(Y/N) twiddled with her wedding band as her mind rushed with all of the possibilities that could happen next. It was as if she was underwater and this unknown threat was pushing her downwards. She couldn’t get any oxygen into her lungs. She could take it when it was only her being targeted, but it was no longer just her in this game, and now she isn’t sure if it was ever just her.

Tim watched her from the doorway as her thoughts consumed more of her. Silently he moved to sit by her side, pulling her weight onto him so she rested on his chest. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” she mumbled, leaning more into his touch.

“You know there is no point worrying now. We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get through this.”

(Y/N) looked up at Tim, watching as he moved his head downwards to meet her glance. Slowly, he continued to move downwards to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

“I know.”

“We have to get ready now, it’s a big day.” Tim stood up, pulling (Y/N) along with him to the wardrobe. She had picked her outfit out the night before, nervous for the upcoming day. Despite being back at work for a few weeks now, today was the first time she would be allowed to operate out of the station without assistance from patrol. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t know how she was going to get through it without the company.

(Y/N) nodded, moving to the mirror to sort out her hair. It had become unkempt in the night, but it was nothing a brush and a bandana couldn’t fix. As she reached for her products, she didn’t notice Tim approach her again. This time he leant towards her neck, leaving small, gentle kisses right in the curve.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, voice muffled by the kisses. “I promise.”

——-

The day was slow, as many others had been. (Y/N) shifted through her paperwork, finishing off the documents she had to have ready for court next week. She had agreed to go in place for another Detective who had retired before the trial had started; she wished she hadn’t now.

“You know,” Angela said, walking over to (Y/N)‘s desk, two coffee’s in hand and a file tucked under her arm. “I could always ask Wesley to give you a head with prep.”

(Y/N) smiled, reaching for the coffee Angela held out. “Really? That wouldn’t be too much to ask? I know I’ve only met him a few times; I don’t want to put him out.”

“He actually offered when I told him how swamped you were with it,” Angela perched down on top of (Y/N)’s desk, placing the file. “And by the look on your face you haven’t made any progress.”

“Nope,” she leaned back into her chair, arms stretched behind her head as she sighed. “I almost envy those on patrol right now.”

Angela laughed. “Don’t let Tim hear you say that, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I already don’t.”

Angela smiled, nodding in agreement before picking up the file again, holding it out for (Y/N) to take.. “Anyway, as much as I love to chat with you, I am here for a favour.”

(Y/N) hummed as she took the file, flipping through the pages waiting for Angela to continue.

“It’s nothing dire, someone tried to rob a store, armed. Nobody was hurt, they didn’t even take anything. Just property damage, but theirs CCTV. Should be easy.”

“Right, yeah thanks.” (Y/N) closed the file, pacing it to one side. “I’ll get on that. But it’s not much of a favour coming to me, moreso your job..? Is there something special about this?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. It’s been a while since we’ve been on the street together, and since you’re no longer stuck going with patrol…”

“Sure,” (Y/N) smiled, reaching to gather her badge and gun from the lockbox in her desk drawer. “But you’re getting lunch.”

“Oh I won’t, we’ll meet the boots and the others at the food trucks. We can get that husband of yours to pay.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, taking a last big swig of her coffee before following Angela out of the bullpen. “Even better.”

———-

“I’m sorry?” Tim asked incredulously, “how the hell did I end up paying for you and Lopez?”

“Because you love me.”

“Too much apparently.” He scoffed, taking (Y/N)’s hand as they walked towards his truck. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

She thought for a moment, considering the options in their sparsely stocked kitchen. “I have no clue to be honest.”

“How about that new Italian place,” he said, opening the door for her, “I heard from Nolan that it’s pretty good. Be nice to go out for a while… if you want to, that is?”

“Of course I want to.” (Y/N) smiled across to him as he climbed into the truck. “Pasta, and seeing you dressed up, nothing sounds better.”

“Good thing I made a reservation then,” Tim turned the keys in the engine before pulling out of the space. Once he was driving, he leaned his arm across to take her hand into his. “We need to be quick though, our table is at eight.”

“How did you know I was going to say yes?”

“Since I met you, you have never turned down the opportunity to have garlic bread. It was an easy bet.”

———-

Tim smiled over the menu he held at (Y/N), watching how the candlelight reflected upon her face, highlighting every feature he loved about her. She had her hair pinned up tightly with a few loose strands framing her face. Her dress hung loosely from her shoulders, the emerald green material flowing downwards like a waterfall. Tim had never seen anything quite as beautiful.

He had missed seeing her like this, completely his in a shared moment. Even before she had left, the two of them fell into a routine where romance wasn’t at the forefront of their relationship anymore. He knew that tended to happen in marriages, but he had a second chance and he wasn’t going to let it fizzle out.

After another moment, (Y/N) looked up from her menu. Rolling her eyes at Tim, she placed it down on the table. “I don’t know why I bother looking, we all know what I’m going to order.”

“Carbonara,” He filled in, placing his own menu down, “with a glass of Pinot Grigio. And I will have the lasagne. What can I say, we know what we like.”

(Y/N) softly laughed, reaching a hand across the table to capture one of Tim’s. “Thank you for this. This place is wonderful.”

Tim went to respond, but was cut off by the waiter approach. The waiter, unlike the rest of the restaurant, was something unremarkable; his black hair was somewhat slicked back, with a few strands lose, and his uniform was creased, as if he had thrown it on.

Thinking nothing of it, Tim told the man their orders, only changing (Y/N)’s glass of Pinot Grigio for a bottle. The waiter wrote down the order and swiftly left them again. As he did, (Y/N) watched him walk away, her eyes drifting to the tattoo poking out of the top of his collar, a familiar spark igniting at the sight.

She had seen it before, most likely in passing but there was something about the serpent that sent a chill through her spine.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked, comfortingly rubbing his thumb up and down (Y/N)’s hand.

“He just seems familiar is all. Nothing important” She said, turning her attention back to her husband.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she smiled, “I’m here with you, and we have some pasta on the way. What else could I need?”

Instead of responding, Tim lifted her hand up to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the back.

Act One | Chapter 17

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