Summary: Joe doesn't want a one night stand... not with you.
Prequel to:
Joe Fucking Hill - You're there for Joe when he has a crisis of identity.
Good Girl (NSFW) - You're not always such a good girl.
Downpour - Joe has something very important he needs to say to you.
Fight Night - The one thing Joe can’t stand is people talking shit about you.
The Details - Joe returns home to find you in bed after a long undercover op.
The Rat - You take matters into your own hands when someone breaks into your apartment.
This thing with you… it’s supposed to be a one night stand.
But then the cuffs come out, Joe’s right wrist clipped to the wooden bedpost, and he knows he won’t be leaving again. His left runs up your side, tracing over the bullet wound in your flank. He wishes he could have been there for that for that, helped you heal but he’d been an asshole after the academy, focused on making his bones instead of continuing the relationship the two of you had.
You’d gone one way and he’d gone the other.
You sink down on his cock and his breath catches, ecstasy exhaled into the air as you press your lips to his. He’s forgotten how good it feels to be with you, to have you clenching around his dick as meets you thrust for thrust.
The handcuff clatters, the bedframe banging against the wall as the two of you find your rhythm. It’s intense, more intense than anything than he’s ever experienced but that’s the thing about you, it’s always like this.
It’s eye contact and messy kisses, his name spoken in hushed whispers as he hits that sweet spot.
Your fingers link with his, pinning his left hand to the pillow and that’s when he shatters, because you, you’re shattering too, falling apart all over his cock. He wants to thread his hand through your hair in that moment, keep you close but already the key is in your hand, and he’s sprung free from his entrapment, the cuff still attached to the bedpost.
“You should have just left me there.” He tells you, rotating his wrist to ward off the stiffness. “You could have spent all night having your wicked way with me.”
“Who says that wasn’t my plan anyway?” You tease leaning across him to unfasten the other part of the cuffs, setting them on the nightstand. “I mean that’s if you’re staying.”
“Oh I am.” He promises, his fingertips chasing back an errant strand of hair from your features as you settle between his legs. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”
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Title: “Don’t Cross the Doctor (or Her Stethoscope)”
Pairing: Jamie Reagan x Doctor!Reader
Genre: Humor, Established Relationship, Mild Workplace Drama
Word Count: ~2,300
---
The hospital was buzzing, as usual. Nurses were flying between rooms, residents trying not to cry in public, and somewhere in the chaos, Dr. Y/N Reagan was power-walking with purpose and a vengeance—clipboard in one hand, stethoscope draped around her neck like a loaded weapon.
Linda spotted her from the nurse’s station and waved. “Please tell me you're not storming HR again.”
Y/N halted. “No, this time, I’m just returning files.”
Linda raised a skeptical brow. “That’s what you said before the ‘color-coded takedown’ of the Chief.”
“That man said I was ‘too young’ to run a full surgical team,” Y/N said with mock offense. “So I made him a binder so aggressive it gave him a migraine. Color-coded and indexed.”
The nurses nearby giggled. One whispered, “She’s terrifying. I love her.”
“Thank you,” Y/N replied sweetly, without even turning around.
Then, fate dealt its cruelest card: Y/N rounded the corner and ran smack into the one man she’d successfully avoided for weeks.
“Y/N?”
She looked up from her clipboard. And there he was. The Ex. Wearing smug like it was a designer cologne. Dr. Liam Whitmore. Still tall, still self-important, still pretending his hairline wasn’t receding.
“Oh,” Y/N said dryly. “You didn’t spontaneously combust. Shame.”
He blinked. “Still… sarcastic, I see.”
“Still cheating on your girlfriends with their cousins, I see,” she replied with a smile, tone sugar-sweet and lethal. “Or has that moved to coworkers now? Bold choice in a hospital.”
Linda, watching from around the corner with a coffee in hand, silently choked on her laughter.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Liam said, puffing his chest like he was still relevant. “This is a prestigious facility.”
“And yet, here you are,” Y/N said flatly. “Which makes me question our hiring standards.”
He scowled. “Still bitter?”
“No,” she said cheerfully. “Just allergic to mediocrity. And STDs.”
The nurse passing by dropped a pen from laughing too hard.
Liam rolled his eyes. “I heard you married a cop. What’s his name? Jimmy?”
“Jamie,” said a voice behind him.
Liam turned around just as Officer Jamie Reagan appeared, still in uniform, fresh off patrol with Renzulli and holding a takeout bag. “And you are?”
“Liam Whitmore,” he said, extending a hand.
Jamie didn’t take it. “Ah. That Liam.”
Y/N leaned against her husband with a grin. “He tried to say I was bitter.”
Jamie smirked. “Nah. She’s just done with your kind.”
Liam scoffed. “Well, it was… interesting seeing you, Y/N.”
“Likewise,” Y/N said brightly. “By the way, if you use my name in front of a patient again and try to attach it to your treatment plan, I will submit a formal statement to the board. And trust me, it’ll be color-coded.”
Liam blinked. “What—”
“She’s not joking,” Linda called from the desk, raising her coffee in salute.
Y/N tilted her head. “Run along now. Before someone hands you a suture kit and you get confused.”
Liam made a noise of protest and stormed off, nearly tripping on his own ego.
Y/N let out a breath. “Well, that was therapeutic.”
Jamie handed her the takeout. “Are you always like this when I’m not here?”
Linda appeared beside them. “Worse.”
Y/N opened the bag. “Good. He needed a reminder that I’m not that poor girl who found his STD meds and cried in the bathroom.”
Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist. “No. You’re my wife now. A brilliant, terrifying, overprotective whirlwind of a doctor.”
Y/N beamed. “Aww. You think I’m terrifying?”
Linda laughed. “Half the hospital does. The nurses love you, though. You made that intern cry for being rude to our new tech, remember?”
“He deserved it,” Y/N said primly. “And he’ll live. Probably. Depends if he took the ‘learn respect’ handout I made.”
Jamie grinned and kissed her temple. “You’re a menace.”
“You married the menace,” she said, mouth full of fries. “So now you’re legally bound to love me even when I verbally spank my ex in the middle of a hallway.”
Linda choked again. “Please don’t ever say ‘verbally spank’ in public.”
Y/N popped a fry in her mouth. “Sounds better in my head.”
---
That night at the Reagan family dinner...
“She called him a walking STD in front of the nurse’s station,” Linda recounted with glee.
Even Frank couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“And then he tried to introduce himself to Jamie,” Linda added, “like Jamie didn’t already know who he was.”
“He didn’t take his hand?” Erin asked.
“Nope,” Jamie said, sipping his drink with a smirk. “Didn’t even blink.”
Henry shook his head, chuckling. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, sweetheart.”
“Just don’t cheat on me with my cousin and we’re good, Gramps,” Y/N winked.
Nicky leaned forward. “So, wait—how did you really find out about the cousin thing?”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “She came in with an STD and asked me to treat her. She didn’t know I was still with him.”
Jamie put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Thank God for karma.”
“I didn’t even cry that much,” Y/N added. “My mom and grandma threw me a breakup party. My uncle grilled steak. It was a good time.”
“You’ve come a long way,” Frank said warmly.
Y/N looked around at the Reagan clan, their laughter, their love, the warmth of the table—and her husband beside her. “Yeah. I did alright.”
Jamie leaned in. “More than alright. You’re the best damn tornado to ever hit this city.”
Pairing: Jamie Reagan x fem!(Frank's) assistant!reader
Summary: While Jamie and Frank continue helping you with your roommate troubles, you learn that there is more behind their care than you first thought. Even the youngest Reagans can see it.
Warnings: allusion to sexual harassment/domestic violence, soft Jamie, comfort, first date and more kisses; 2.1k+ words
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“Come with me,” Jamie Reagan says the moment you step off the elevator.
You raise one hand to your heart, your eyes widening in surprise. “Jamie,” you sigh, “what are you doing here?”
He smiles, a beautiful laugh slipping past his lips. “Asking you to come with me.”
You take his offered hand and step out of One PP with him, watching Jamie rather than where you’re going. If you fell because of him… well, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“This is my sister, Erin,” Jamie introduces.
“We’ve met,” Erin tells him before smiling and greeting you. “Is your memory slipping, dear baby brother?”
“I know you’ve met,” Jamie argues. “But not like this.”
“Oh,” Erin murmurs, gesturing to invite you to take a seat. “What’s going on? Is Dad okay?”
“Dad’s fine,” Jamie assures her. He glances at you and invites, “Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”
After tucking your hands under your thighs, you nod and look at Erin’s desk. She’s busy, probably has much better things she could be doing, but she’s here and willing to help.
“My roommate got a boyfriend,” you begin softly. “He, uh, he’s there a lot. Practically moved in despite the clause in our rental agreement than no one can spend more than two consecutive nights without prior notice.”
“Is he helping her pay rent?” Erin interjects.
You shake your head, not noticing how Jamie’s jaw tightens.
“If she’s in violation of you rental agreement – and you have it in your possession – you can evict her. New York state law requires a written eviction notice, which we can write up tonight and force her out in no more than 30 days.”
“What-" You take a shaky breath, fighting to ignore the memories of what her boyfriend has said and done. “What if they don’t leave after the notice?”
“Then we take them to court,” Erin says. “We will get your apartment back and as much recompensation as we can, I promise you that.”
“Thank you.”
You excuse yourself to use the restroom before you leave to go home. Or find a hotel, you think sadly.
Alone in her office, Erin sits back in her seat and raises her brows.
“What?” Jamie asks.
“Are you going to tell me?” she wonders.
“Tell you what?”
“I can see, Jamie. You were awfully close when you walked in.”
“Thank you for helping her,” Jamie says instead of answering.
“Of course. Wait, is this the girl who works for Dad that he says you come to visit?”
“I was visiting Dad,” Jamie defends, leaning forward in his seat. “I had to wait, and we started talking.”
“Sure,” Erin agrees sarcastically. “I’m trusting Dad over you on this one.”
You hesitate to knock; a copy of the eviction notice Erin helped you write clutched in your hand. Jamie reaches forward, the warmth of his hand a comfort on your back, and a reminder that you’re not alone. When he’d offered to accompany you or call another officer if you wanted a ‘completely neutral third party,’ you hadn’t hesitated to agree. Now you’re regretting not just sending someone else to deliver it.
Jamie offers your key, and you push the door open with a heavy sigh. Your roommate is sprawled out across the couch with a pink bakery box propped open beside her.
“Oh, hey,” she calls without moving. “Wondered when you’d be back.”
“Yeah,” you murmur. “I, uh, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Hi,” her boyfriend says, stopping in the doorway when he sees you. “You look good.”
You ignore him, waiting for your roommate to reply.
“Sure,” she says.
Jamie seems to sense your discomfort, so he meets your eyes and nods.
“This is-" You swallow around the nervous lump in your throat. “This is an eviction notice. I need you out in thirty days.”
“What?!” your roommate exclaims, finally standing. “What the- why?”
“You’ve violated our agreement. I’ve got another friend looking for a place and think she’d be a better match for me and my space.”
“You and your space?” her boyfriend snaps. “You’re never here!”
“Easy,” Jamie warns, moving forward to be between you and the larger man.
“Look,” you continue, “lease renewal is in a few months and as much as I hate doing this, I need a more reliable roommate.”
“You need a lot of things,” her boyfriend continues. He takes another step, so Jamie raises his hand in warning.
“You two stay out here,” Jamie instructs. He taps your back, then follows you to your bedroom. “Get everything you don’t want to lose,” he whispers as he locks the door. “Anything out there you want me to grab?”
“Uh, the red cookbook over the stove, please,” you whisper.
He nods, then returns less than a minute later. Jamie helps you pack your most important belongings and enough clothes for a few days. Luckily, you took most of your sentimental items to your desk after the man in the living room broke a picture frame the first week he stayed over. So, with three bags, you lock your bedroom door behind you and leave.
“Thank you,” you tell Jamie in the elevator.
“Of course,” he murmurs, his eyes steady on your face.
You prepare to point out he’s staring, but Jamie beats you to it, brushing his fingers over your cheekbone as he says, “I’m allowed to.”
Your cellphone rings again, vibrating against the desk after you turn the volume off.
“Answer it,” Commissioner Reagan instructs.
“It’s a personal-“
“Answer it,” he repeats from inside his office.
Shaking your head, you swipe your finger across the screen and greet, “Hello?”
“Hi,” a familiar voice says. “I’m Pat, your landlord.”
“Right, hi.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but your apartment door was left open. I glanced inside and I can’t tell if you were robbed or-“
“I know what happened,” you interrupt. “Could you close and lock the door for me?”
He agrees to do so, then ends the call. When you set your phone aside, Frank is standing in the doorway looking at you.
“Need to go?” he asks.
“No, sir,” you reply. “Thank you.”
On your lunch break, you rush back to the apartment. Your roommate’s belongings are gone, in addition to a few of your own things, but your bedroom remains untouched. Pat knocks on the open door while you look around and offers to change the lock.
“That would be great,” you reply. “Also, I wanted to go ahead and let you know that I won’t be renewing my lease next month?”
Pat nods, bending to look at the doorknob as he asks, “Find somewhere better, closer to work?”
“Yes,” you lie.
“Congratulations, kid.”
You thank Pat, then race through New York to get back to your desk on time. Jamie Reagan is sitting in your seat when you arrive, his eyes on you the moment the elevator doors open.
“Staring,” you say simply.
He only smiles in return.
Sunday morning, you wake on Jamie’s couch with an anxious feeling where your heart is supposed to be. The coffee machine whirs in the kitchen, and you slip out from under the blanket to go into the bathroom. After your teeth have been brushed, your hair fixed, and your clothes changed, you find Jamie in the kitchen.
“You’re nervous,” he accuses.
You stop, frowning before you nod.
“It’s just dinner.”
“With your family,” you point out.
“My dad loves you; you know Erin… What are you really nervous about?”
“What if they don’t like me? Or- or they see something I’d rather keep private?”
Jamie runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he smiles. “Like what?” he questions, wrapping his fingers around your wrist.
You roll your eyes, but your gaze doesn’t stray from Jamie’s even when he offers coffee.
Jamie’s hand is steady and warm in yours as you approach the Reagan family home. He promised to be at your side all night before he opened the car door for you, and you know he means what he says.
“Nothing to worry about,” he repeats as you approach the door.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you murmur.
“Hey, if anyone should be worried, it’s your former roommate and her boyfriend.”
“What does that mean?”
“If my family finds out what they did, they’ll be in danger of more than a disapproving look.”
Your lips part in shock at his words, but the door is pulled open and you’re invited in before you can speak.
Everyone at the table can read you like a large-print children’s book. Just as you expected.
“Are you marrying Uncle Jamie?” one of Danny’s kids asks.
Your eyes widen, your fingers stilling on your water glass. Jamie sits back in his seat, his arm across the back of your chair. He smiles, watching you.
“It would be news to me,” you say.
The Reagan family laughs – graciously, you think – and then dinner continues. Everyone is nice, precisely what you anticipated. Frank doesn’t say much directly to you, but you feel his eyes on you every few minutes.
When the evening is coming to an end, Frank walks you and Jamie out, lingering by the front of the Chevelle.
“We wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he says after Jamie opens the door for you.
You don’t have to ask what he’s talking about. He’s encouraged you to go for Jamie – in far fewer words and cloaked in far more allegory – but you’ve thought he was joking until tonight.
“We’ll keep that in mind, Dad,” Jamie says, laughing either from shock or pure amusement.
He slides into the driver seat and says he’s taking you home. It means he’s taking you back to his apartment, but there’s more in his words than that.
“I’m moving,” you blurt out. “I decided not to renew my lease. Now I just have to find somewhere to move to.”
“I can help you look,” Jamie offers, “if you want.”
“I’d like that,” you agree. “Maybe I can find somewhere closer to One PP.”
Jamie nods, sparing a glance at you when he says, “You’d be closer to me, too.”
“That would be nice.”
You see the article online before you receive the first call. It will either blow up or be brushed aside relatively quickly; nothing in between. You stand and straighten your sleeves, then knock softly on Commissioner Reagan’s door.
“Come in,” he calls.
You step inside without hesitation. Jamie smiles from the seat across from his dad, blatantly staring at you.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“It’s not a problem,” Frank assures you.
“No one will care,” Jamie adds. “It was a good picture, though, right?”
The people who take to social media to discuss the Reagan children getting cozy with people from the Commissioner’s office certainly think so.
You count down the minutes until you get off work the Friday after your first Reagan family Sunday dinner. Then, you walk hand-in-hand with Jamie to his apartment. Your new home is lined up; you’ll move in before the end of the month, but for now, home is with Jamie.
“You’re staring again,” you grumble between kisses.
“You’re making it easy,” Jamie sighs.
He catches your jaw, holding your eye contact. You stare at each other then, unknowing and uncaring that the clock inches closer to your reservation time. You’re going to miss your first date, but you consider this moment to be a far better option.
“Now you’re staring,” Jamie counters, smiling at you as he runs his fingers along your arm.
“Don’t make it so easy,” you joke.
“Good morning?” Frank asks when you arrive at your desk. He’s perched on the edge; your keyboard pushed a few inches to the right to accommodate him.
“Yes, sir,” you reply carefully. “You?”
“Good, good. Have you…” He shakes his head as if thinking, then smiles and inquires, “Seen anything worth staring at recently?”
Your eyes widen comically, and your boss, the all-powerful Commissioner Frank Reagan, laughs at you.
“Um,” you mumble. “I don’t-“
“My son and I had a conversation last night. I’m proud of your for moving on - and moving out, I suppose.”
“You talk to Jamie about me?” you question.
Frank taps your desk as he stands. He’s nearly to his door when he says, “It’s not a new occurrence.”
You fall into your seat after hearing that news “That’s concerning.”
The phone rings, and you clear your head of Jamie to answer, “One Police Plaza, Commissioner Reagan’s office, how may I help you?”
“You can give me all the good details,” Erin Regan replies.
Frank laughs like he knows who’s on the other end of the line, and you drop your head to your desk. You feel more vulnerable now then when Jamie stares.
