Summary: On a quiet Saturday morning, Danny Reagan finally gets a moment of peace — until his partner, (Y/N), drops a life-changing surprise. As the detective processes the news that he’s going to be a father again, emotions run high, humor slips in, and the moment turns into something the Reagans would call nothing short of a blessing. 💘
Thank you, Anon, for the request! So sorry for the delay on this!
The smell of coffee and bacon filled the kitchen — the kind of Saturday morning quiet that almost didn’t feel real in a Reagan household. The boys were still upstairs, the city outside hummed low, and Danny… well, Danny was exactly where you wanted him.
Leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, badge still clipped to his jeans because he never really took it off. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, but his grin — that crooked Reagan grin — made your heart ache in the best way.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, watching you with that cop’s instinct that always made you feel like he could see through you. “You’re quiet this morning. That’s never a good sign.”
You laughed softly, but your hands trembled a little as you set down your mug. “You say that like I’m about to interrogate you.”
“Yeah, well, usually when you’re that quiet, someone’s about to get cuffed — and it’s usually me.”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Not today.”
Danny raised a brow, the teasing edge fading just enough for concern to settle in. “What’s goin’ on, babe?”
You took a breath. The words had been sitting in your chest for a week, bouncing around between fear and excitement. You’d replayed this moment a hundred times — and now that it was here, you couldn’t remember a single thing you’d rehearsed.
“I, uh… went to the doctor the other day,” you started, watching him freeze, coffee halfway to his lips.
He blinked. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”
He caught that we, and his whole body stilled. “Wait—what do you mean we’re fine?”
You looked at him, heart racing, eyes burning. “Danny… I’m pregnant.”
For a second, there was nothing. Just the soft tick of the kitchen clock and the sound of his mug setting down — too gently for a man who usually did everything with force.
He stared, mouth parting like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. Then the realization hit, spreading across his face like sunrise.
“You’re… pregnant?”
You nodded, a small laugh escaping despite the tears welling in your eyes. “Yeah. Looks like we’re gonna have a little Reagan running around.”
Danny blinked, then laughed — that deep, disbelieving laugh that made you fall in love with him in the first place. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tight you could barely breathe.
“Are you serious?” he whispered into your hair. “You’re really—?”
“Yeah,” you murmured against his chest. “Really.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek. “God, you’re gonna be such a good mom,” he said, voice thick, breaking just a little. “And I— I swear, I’m gonna be better this time. I’ll be here, no missed dinners, no—”
You pressed a hand to his chest. “Hey. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep. Just be you. That’s enough.”
Danny smiled, eyes wet but shining. “Yeah? Even if ‘me’ is a loud, overprotective, pain-in-the-ass detective?”
You grinned. “Especially that version.”
He kissed you then — slow, steady, like time had stopped. And when he finally pulled away, he rested a hand on your stomach, that same grin coming back.
“Guess we better tell Pop,” he said, shaking his head. “You know he’s gonna make a speech about family and blessings and probably start cryin’ before I do.”
You laughed, leaning into him. “I can’t wait.”
Danny looked down at you, hand still warm over where your future rested, and for the first time in a long while, the storm that always followed him — the chaos, the danger, the noise — quieted.
Because here, in your kitchen, with your heart against his and a new life between you…
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Summary: Meeting Danny Reagan’s family for the first time is overwhelming for autistic Y/N—the noise, the laughter, the chaos of a Sunday dinner. But with Danny’s steady support, and the Reagan family’s quiet gestures of kindness, Y/N discovers that maybe fitting in doesn’t mean changing who you are—it means finding a place where you belong.💘
Thank you to the Anon for the request!!!!
The smell of roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes hit you as soon as you stepped into Frank Reagan’s home. It was warm, familiar, and intimidating all at once. You clutched the strap of your bag, trying to remember all the social scripts you’d rehearsed on the drive over.
Danny noticed. He always did. His hand found yours, big and grounding.
“Babe, you’re doing fine,” he said softly, just for you. “This is just Sunday dinner. My family’s gonna love you.”
You gave him a doubtful glance. “You say that like they’re not… legendary.”
He grinned. “Legendary? Try loud. And nosy. But they’re harmless.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you. Promise.”
Before you could respond, the door opened. Erin stood there, her smile bright but not overwhelming. “You must be Y/N,” she said warmly. “Come in—we’ve been waiting.”
Inside, the dining room was bustling. Jamie waved, Eddie called out a cheerful hello, and Frank rose from his chair to shake your hand. His grip was firm but not crushing, his eyes kind. “It’s good to finally meet you,” he said.
At the table, the noise was immediate. Voices overlapped, jokes flew across plates, stories layered one over another. You tried to focus, tried to follow along, but it was a lot. Your fork wobbled in your hand. Danny’s knee pressed against yours under the table, a quiet tether.
“Y/N,” Eddie asked brightly, “Danny tells us you’re into puzzles. What kind do you like?”
Your throat tightened, but you managed: “Um… jigsaw. The really big ones. It’s… soothing.”
To your surprise, Frank leaned in. “You know, I’ve got a 5,000-piece sitting in a box upstairs. Could never find the patience for it. Maybe you’ll inspire me.” His tone was gentle, like he wasn’t teasing—just genuinely interested.
You smiled, shy but real. That wasn’t so bad.
But as the meal went on, the voices rose again, layered and loud. Laughter shook the table, Danny’s brothers playfully argued over football, and Erin clinked her glass to quiet them, which only made them louder. Your chest felt tight. You tapped Danny’s wrist twice.
Without missing a beat, he leaned in. “Want some air?”
You nodded quickly.
Danny excused you both with practiced ease, slipping out onto the porch like it was no big deal. The cool night air was a balm. You let out a shaky breath, hugging yourself. “I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t anymore.”
Danny pulled you into his side, his arm warm around your shoulders. “Don’t apologize. My family’s a lot. Hell, even I need breaks sometimes.” He brushed his lips over your hair. “You’re doing amazing.”
You leaned into him, letting his steady presence settle your racing thoughts. After a few quiet minutes, the door creaked open. Erin peeked out, holding two plates. “I thought you might want dessert out here,” she said, setting them down gently. “No rush.”
Your chest warmed at the kindness. Erin didn’t make a big deal, didn’t force you back inside—just adjusted.
Danny nudged the plate toward you with a grin. “See? They’re already spoiling you.”
You laughed softly, tension easing. Maybe you didn’t have to conquer the Reagan dinner table in one night. Maybe being yourself was enough. And with Danny at your side—protective, patient, grounding—it felt like, piece by piece, you were finding your place at the table too.
Summary: Y/N is sick and Danny comes to take care of her 💘
Thank you to the Anon for the request!!! So sorry on the delay!
You hated being sick. Not just because of the sore throat and fever, but because you couldn’t sit still and do nothing. But your body had other plans, so you ended up on the couch wrapped in a blanket cocoon, tissues piled on the coffee table, a mug of cold tea forgotten beside you.
When the front door opened, you groaned. You didn’t want Danny to see you like this — pale, messy hair, a sweatshirt three sizes too big. But of course, Danny noticed immediately.
“Whoa,” he said, shutting the door and giving you a once-over. “Looks like a tornado hit you.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled, hiding your face in the blanket. “Exactly what every girl wants to hear from her boyfriend.”
Danny’s smirk softened into concern as he came over, crouching beside you. He brushed your hair back gently. “Hey, you know I’m just kidding. You’re still gorgeous. Just… a little soggy around the edges.”
You managed a laugh that turned into a cough. Danny frowned instantly, his cop instincts kicking in. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Damn, Y/N. You’re burning up. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you were working. I didn’t want to bother you.” Danny gave you the look. The Reagan look that was equal parts frustration and love. “You don’t bother me. You’re the first person I wanna know about if something’s wrong.”
He stood up, clapping his hands like he was gearing up for a mission. “Alright. Reagan to the rescue. You stay right there, don’t move a muscle.”
You watched him bustle around the kitchen, muttering to himself while opening cabinets. “Soup… where the hell’s the soup…? Ah, got it. Chicken noodle. Don’t say I never spoil you, sweetheart.”
When he returned, he had soup in one hand, tea in the other, and a smug grin on his face. “Nurse Danny at your service. Payment is accepted in forehead kisses.”
You rolled your eyes but leaned forward, giving him one anyway. “There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he said, helping you sit up and holding the bowl for you. He blew on the spoonful like you were five. “Open up.”
“Danny,” you protested weakly, cheeks flushing.
“What? Can’t a guy take care of his sick girlfriend?” He nudged the spoon closer. “C’mon, you’ll hurt my feelings.”
You gave in, taking the bite. It wasn’t bad, actually. “Not bad,” you admitted.
Danny puffed up like he’d won a medal. “Told you. Hidden talent.”
After you ate a little, he pulled you against his chest on the couch, tucking the blanket around you. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back while the TV played in the background.
“You know, I’d arrest this flu if I could,” he murmured into your hair. “Put it away for twenty to life.”
You chuckled softly, your head heavy against him. “That’s the most Reagan thing you’ve ever said.”
“Damn right.” He kissed the top of your head. “And until you’re better, I’m not going anywhere.”
🦋🦋🦋
Danny carried you to bed despite your weak protests of “I can walk, you know.”
“Yeah, and I can wrestle perps twice my size, but I still let my partner back me up,” he quipped, laying you gently on the bed and tucking you in. “Teamwork.”
He disappeared for a moment and returned with a cold washcloth. “Forehead,” he instructed. You obeyed, and the coolness made you sigh with relief.
Danny smiled. “Better?”
“Much.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “You scared me today, you know.”
“Scared you? It’s just the flu.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen enough to know not to take anything lightly. Especially not when it comes to you.”
Your chest ached, but not from being sick — from the way he looked at you, all protective warmth and soft edges. “Danny Reagan, you’re way too good to me.”
“Damn right I am,” he teased, but his voice was low, tender. He leaned down to kiss you, feather-light so he wouldn’t catch your germs. “Now get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
As you drifted off, you felt him settle beside you, one strong arm pulling you close. His warmth, his steady breathing, his quiet hum of you’re safe wrapped around you like another blanket.
For once, being sick didn’t feel so bad — not when Danny Reagan was the one taking care of you
Summary: Y/N, who is autistic, joins her boyfriend, Danny Reagan, at his favourite diner, but the noise quickly becomes overwhelming 💘
Thank you to the anon who requested this! I hope this is to your taste!!
I’ve learned to measure places in terms of volume, not square feet.
This diner? It’s small but loud—plates clinking, people talking over each other, a coffee machine steaming like it’s in a hurry to finish a shift.
Danny loves it here. He says the apple pie is “a crime against every other dessert” and somehow means that as a compliment.
I’m here because I love him. But the moment we walk in, I feel the pressure building. It’s like someone turned up the static in my head, and now I’m trying to hold a conversation through bad reception.
We slide into a booth. I keep my eyes on the menu even though I’ve already decided on my usual—grilled cheese, no pickle. I can’t stop tracking the other noises: the tinny hum from the jukebox in the corner, the squeal of the door hinge every time it opens, the scrape of chair legs on tile.
“Hey,” Danny says, leaning across the table. His tone is soft, which is rare for him. “You’re doin’ that thing with your fingers again.”
I look down—sure enough, I’m tapping the edge of the menu, over and over, in the same rhythm. I pull my hands into my lap. “Sorry.”
He frowns. “Don’t be sorry. Just… talk to me. Too much?”
It’s hard to say yes when I don’t want to ruin his good mood. So I shake my head, but I know he doesn’t buy it.
He reaches over, slides his hand over mine, and I can feel the warmth immediately. “We can go,” he says. “Not a big deal.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble, even though I’m not.
Danny tilts his head, studying me like I’m a case file. “You’re fine the same way I’m patient,” he says. “Which is to say—not at all.”
Despite myself, I laugh. And maybe that laugh loosens something, because I finally admit, “It’s just… a lot today.”
That’s all I say, but it’s enough. He nods, throws a twenty on the table before the waitress even makes it over, and we’re outside in seconds.
The air feels different here—quieter, cooler. My shoulders drop without me telling them to.
“You okay now?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Thank you.” Danny shrugs like it’s nothing, but I can see in his eyes it’s not nothing to him.
⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣
The thing about dating Y/N is—there’s no autopilot.
With most people, you can kind of guess your way through what they need. With her, you don’t guess. You pay attention.
We’re in Sal’s, sitting at our usual booth. I’m halfway through telling her about this case we closed, when I notice she’s not really here. Her eyes are on the menu, but she’s tapping her fingers like she’s got a secret Morse code going.
I’ve seen it before—when she’s close to hitting her limit with noise.
I know she’s not gonna just blurt it out. She doesn’t want to feel like she’s “making a fuss.” But if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a detective—and as her boyfriend—it’s that the small stuff isn’t small if it’s hurting you.
“You good?” I ask.
She says she’s fine, but I’ve interrogated murder suspects who sounded more convincing.
I tell her we can go. She protests—of course she does—but I’m already grabbing my coat.
Outside, the look on her face says everything. Her breathing evens out. The tension’s gone from her jaw.
We start walking, no destination in mind, and I shove my hands in my pockets. “You know,” I say, “you don’t have to tough it out for me. I’m a grown man. I can handle missing a sandwich if it means you’re not miserable.”
She smirks. “You really think it’s just a sandwich you’re missing?”
“Yeah, I’m also missing pie. But I figure you’re worth it.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now. That’s a win.
Here’s the truth—I’m loud, I’m stubborn, I’m not always easy to be around. But with her, I want to be the guy who notices before she has to explain.
The job’s full of chaos. The city’s full of noise. But if I can be her quiet? That’s enough for me.
⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣
By the time we reach the park, the tension in my body has melted. I can hear the soft crunch of gravel under our shoes, the distant chatter of kids playing—but it’s different here. Not overwhelming.
Danny slows his pace so I can match it without rushing. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but I notice.
“You always do that,” I say quietly.
“Do what?”
“Make things easier without making me feel… weird about it.”
Danny stops walking. “Listen,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If something’s too loud, we leave. If you need a minute, we'll take a minute. That’s not me ‘putting up’ with anything, that’s just… what you do when you care about someone.”
And just like that, the weight in my chest lifts completely.
Summary: When NYPD detective Danny Reagan comes home, he’s not just looking for dinner — he’s looking to see how many shades of red he can make Y/N blush. One teasing touch, one lingering look, and he’s got them squirming. He promises to keep them thinking about him all night… and Danny Reagan always keeps his promises. ❤️🔥💘
Thank you to the Anon for the request! I hope this is what you were looking for!
You barely had time to put your book down before Danny was in your apartment, shutting the door behind him with a heavy thunk. He looked like the day had wrung him out — tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled, hair just slightly messy — but the moment his eyes landed on you, something shifted in his expression. The weight of the day seemed to fall away.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice deep and warm as he walked straight toward you. “Miss me?”
You nodded quickly but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You were gone all day.”
“And that’s about eight hours too long,” he murmured, bracing one hand on the arm of the couch beside your head. His other hand trailed a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. “You know what I thought about the whole time?”
Your voice came out softer than you meant. “What?”
“You,” he said simply — but his eyes had that dangerous glint, the one that made your stomach flutter and your pulse stumble. “And how much I wanted to be right here.”
Your breath caught, and you shifted slightly, unsure where to put your hands. Danny’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re fidgeting,” he teased. “What’s got you so nervous, huh? I’m just standing here.”
“You’re… close,” you managed, your cheeks heating.
“That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow enough to make you swallow hard. “I like to be close.”
When you stayed quiet, his grin deepened. “You always get this shy when I touch you,” he said, leaning just close enough for his breath to warm your skin. “Makes me wonder how red you’d get if I really tried.”
Your face felt hot enough to catch fire, but you didn’t move away — you couldn’t. Danny clearly knew it too, because his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you just close enough that your knees brushed.
“You’re dangerous,” you whispered.
He chuckled, low and pleased. “Only for you, sweetheart. And you love it.”
Then, just when you thought he’d finally kiss you, he pulled back — not far, just enough to make you ache for the missing warmth. His voice dropped into a whisper. “Later. I want you to squirm a little first.”
♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎
You were in the kitchen, trying very hard to focus on chopping vegetables for dinner, but every few seconds you felt his eyes on you from the living room. He wasn’t even pretending not to stare — you could feel the weight of it.
Finally, you looked over your shoulder. “What?” you asked, trying to be casual.
“Nothing,” he said with a smile that was anything but innocent. “Just thinking how cute you look when you’re pretending not to notice me watching you.”
Your cheeks warmed again. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re blushing again,” he countered, rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. He stopped behind you, close enough that his chest brushed your back. “You know what that does to me, don’t you?”
You gripped the cutting board a little tighter. “Danny…”
He leaned down, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “It makes me want to keep going until you can’t even say my name without shaking.”
You turned in his arms, wide-eyed, and he grinned like he’d just won something. His hands slid to your hips, holding you there as he looked down at you — patient, steady, but with a heat in his gaze that made it hard to breathe.
“Dinner can wait,” he murmured.
You couldn’t think of a single argument.
You swallowed hard, staring up at him. Danny’s hands were steady on your hips, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt. He wasn’t rushing you — he never did — but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think about anything else.
“Dinner…” you started weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He smirked. “Dinner’s not going anywhere.” His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your waist. “But I might lose my mind if I don’t kiss you right now.”
Your pulse jumped. “Then… kiss me,” you said, barely audible.
Something flickered in his eyes — satisfaction, heat — and then he did exactly that. The kiss was slow at first, almost careful, but his grip on your hips tightened just enough to make your breath hitch. You weren’t used to the way he could turn the world into nothing but him, the way the rest of the room seemed to vanish.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
You shook your head slightly, still catching your breath.
“That’s the thing about you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re so damn innocent… and you don’t even realize how much harder that makes it for me.”
Your cheeks burned. “Is… is that bad?”
His laugh was low and warm. “Bad? No. Dangerous for me? Absolutely.”
He brushed his thumb along your jaw before letting his hand cup your cheek. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had, and I’m not gonna rush you. But…” His lips curved into that wicked half-smile again. “I’m not above making sure you’re thinking about me all night.”
You tried to protest, but his mouth was already brushing yours again — not a full kiss this time, just enough to leave you hanging.
And when he finally stepped back, heading toward the couch with an infuriatingly casual, “Better check on that dinner before it burns,” you realized two things:
You had completely forgotten about the stove.
He absolutely knew exactly what he was doing to you.
♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎
Dinner was eaten, dishes washed, and yet somehow you were even more aware of him now than before. Danny was stretched out on the couch, one arm draped along the backrest, watching the TV with a casualness you didn’t buy for a second.
You sat at the other end, hugging a pillow to your chest.
Every so often, his eyes would flick to you — not in a quick glance, but in that slow, deliberate way that made your stomach do little flips. He didn’t need to say a word; the weight of that look was enough to make you squirm.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said finally, his voice deep and a little too knowing.
“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, eyes fixed on the TV.
“Mm-hm.” He shifted, his long legs stretching out so one brushed against yours. “That’s the same thing you said earlier when you were blushing like crazy.”
Your face warmed instantly. “Danny…”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence — though the slight curl of his mouth betrayed him. “I told you I’d keep you thinking about me all night. Gotta keep my promises.”
You bit your lip, trying to hide your reaction, which only seemed to amuse him more. He patted the spot next to him. “Come here.”
You hesitated, but he didn’t drop his hand. Finally, you moved closer, settling beside him.
“That’s better,” he murmured, his arm sliding around your shoulders. He pulled you in until your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart somehow making you even more aware of him.
He leaned down, his lips brushing just above your ear. “You’re so easy to fluster, sweetheart. Makes me wonder what would happen if I really tried.”
Your breath caught, and you tilted your head up just enough to meet his eyes. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room — warm, patient, but with an edge of heat that made your chest tighten.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you whispered, “Then try.”
Something in his expression shifted — the teasing faded, replaced with a slow, deliberate intent. His hand cupped your cheek, and when he kissed you this time, there was nothing careful about it. It was deep, lingering, pulling every last thought from your mind until all you could do was hold onto him.
When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. He smirked, brushing his thumb over your flushed cheek.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. “And now you really won’t stop thinking about me.”
You didn’t even try to argue — because he was right.
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Summary: Y/N is having a panic attack, and Danny comes to comfort her.
It started as a whisper.
A distant hum of panic you thought you could ignore. A flicker in your chest. A slight tightness in your throat. You told yourself you were fine. You just needed to sit down. Just needed a glass of water. Just needed…
But you weren’t fine.
The hum grew louder. The flicker turned into a flame. Suddenly, the air in your apartment felt too thick to breathe. Your lungs couldn’t keep up. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs like a war drum, and the world tilted on its axis.
Your hands trembled as you gripped the couch cushions, trying to ground yourself—trying to remember what had triggered this spiral. The news? Work stress? An offhand comment from a stranger?
Or maybe it was just the silence. The kind that presses in on all sides until your own thoughts become too loud to handle.
You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
You only knew one thing—you had to call him.
Your fingers were clumsy on the screen, hitting the wrong app twice before you found his contact. Danny ❤️.
You hit the call button and prayed he’d answer.
One ring.
Two.
Three—
“Reagan.”
His voice was firm, clipped. Probably still at work. Maybe in the middle of a case. You hated the idea of interrupting him but—
You couldn’t speak. Your voice caught in your throat. A breath escaped, broken and shaky.
“…Y/N?”
That one word. That shift in his tone—it cracked something inside you.
“I—I can’t—Danny, I can’t breathe.” Your voice cracked under the weight of it all.
Instantly, he was no longer Detective Reagan. He was your Danny. Your safe place.
“Hey. Hey, sweetheart,” he said, soft and low. “I’m right here. You’re okay. I need you to listen to my voice, alright? I got you.”
You could hear movement—keys, maybe, the rustling of his jacket. He was already coming.
“You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna pass. You’ve done this before. You’re strong, remember?”
You closed your eyes, gripping the phone like a lifeline. “It hurts,” you whispered. “My chest—my head—I feel like I’m drowning.”
“I know, baby. I know. But you’re not. You’re safe. I promise you, it’s just your body reacting to stress. It’s not permanent. You’re not dying, even if it feels that way.”
Tears pricked your eyes, trailing down your cheeks as silent sobs started to shake your frame.
“Where are you right now?”
“Home. Living room.”
“Good. Stay right there. I’m coming. Just a few minutes out.”
He kept talking as you rocked slightly back and forth, trying to keep yourself grounded. His voice was a steady anchor pulling you away from the waves.
“Okay, listen to me. Put your hand on your chest for me. Feel your heartbeat?”
You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see you.
“Still beating, right?” he continued gently. “Fast, yeah—but steady. You’re okay. I want you to try to match your breathing to mine, alright? In for four… hold… out for four. Can you do that with me?”
You tried. Your breath stuttered at first, but you followed his counts.
“Good girl. That’s it,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good. Just stay with me, baby. I’m almost there.”
A few minutes later, your front door opened.
“Y/N?” he called out.
You looked up from the couch, face tear-streaked, breath still shaky. Danny dropped everything the second he saw you—his keys, his badge, even his phone—and crossed the room in three long strides.
He dropped to his knees in front of you, eyes full of worry and love. “Hey. I’m here now. I got you.”
You didn’t say anything. Just collapsed into him, burying your face into the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around you. He held you like something precious, like he was scared you might slip away if he let go.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered hoarsely, voice muffled by his shirt.
“Don’t you dare,” he said immediately, tightening his hold. “You don’t apologize for needing help. Ever. You call me every time this happens, you hear me? Every single time.”
You nodded against his chest. “I didn’t want to bother you…”
“You’re never a bother,” he said, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You're my girl. My priority. The rest of the world can wait.”
His thumb wiped away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle despite the strength in his hands. He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “It’s over. I got you.”
The two of you stayed like that on the couch—your body pressed to his, his fingers running through your hair as you began to calm, truly calm.
Eventually, he leaned back just enough to look at you. “Water?” You nodded.
He returned with a glass, holding it for you as you took slow, careful sips.
“Good,” he whispered. “Want me to stay here tonight?”
You looked at him like he’d just asked something ridiculous. “Danny. You live here.”
He smirked. “Just checking you’re still with me.”
You let out a soft laugh—fragile, but real. “Thank you,” you said quietly.
He leaned in and kissed you again, this time on the lips—soft, slow, reassuring. “Anytime. Always.”
Summary: Danny Reagan finally brings his girlfriend Y/N, who is super shy when meeting new people, especially the Reagan family. 💘
Thank you @emmas342 for the request! I hope that you enjoy!
You weren’t sure how your feet were still working.
The nerves crawling through your body had reached your throat, making it hard to swallow, let alone speak. Yet somehow, you were walking beside Danny up the steps to the famous Reagan brownstone, clutching a bottle of wine like it might shield you from judgment.
Your fingers were ice.
Danny stopped just outside the door, turning to you with a gentleness he rarely showed in public—one reserved just for you. “Hey,” he said softly. “You sure you’re up for this?”
You nodded quickly—too quickly. “Y-yeah. I just… I’m okay.”
He studied your face for a moment. You were clearly not okay. Your eyes were wide, shoulders drawn in, hands trembling slightly around the neck of the wine bottle.
He reached out, cupping your cheek with a calloused hand. “You don’t have to say much. Just be with me. That’s enough.”
You nodded again, smaller this time. His touch helped. “And they’re gonna love you, alright?” he added, voice lower now. “Just… be you.”
You didn’t know what being you even looked like around people like them—police commissioners, ADA’s, decorated detectives, and full-blooded New York Irish energy.
Still, Danny opened the door.
Warm light and the smell of food spilled out instantly, followed by voices.
“Danny!”
“You’re late!”
“What else is new?”
Then: “Is that her?”
You froze in the doorway, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as Frank Reagan—the Frank Reagan—stood tall in the hallway, holding a glass of scotch. His piercing blue gaze landed on you. Not judgmental. Just… observant.
Danny placed a hand on the small of your back, grounding you.
“This is Y/N,” he said proudly. “She’s real. And she’s nervous, so everyone behave.”
You gave a small wave, your voice barely above a whisper. “H-hi. Thank you for… um… having me.”
Frank nodded kindly. “We’re glad you could join us. Come on in.”
The brownstone was even more intimidating inside—so many people, voices overlapping, laughter echoing through the halls. You stayed close to Danny’s side like a shadow, your eyes fixed to the floor unless someone directly addressed you.
“Y/N! So this is the woman stealing my brother’s time?” a playful voice chimed.
You looked up to see a woman with sharp eyes and a wry smile. Erin.
You felt your face go red instantly. “I—I didn’t mean to steal—”
“She’s kidding,” Danny cut in quickly, giving Erin a warning look. “Ignore her.”
Erin softened. “Sorry. That was a joke. Welcome to the madness. You okay?”
You nodded mutely, cheeks still burning. You weren’t sure how to act around people like this—people who seemed so confident, so used to teasing and pushing each other around with love.
“Come on,” Danny murmured, leading you toward the table. “You can sit next to me. Always.”
You nodded, focusing on breathing as you slipped into your chair, shoulders hunched in a bit to make yourself small. Everyone was so loud—jokes flying, stories being swapped—and you found yourself staring at your plate, unsure when to speak or if you even should.
Danny filled your plate quietly. His hand brushed yours every few minutes, checking in without words.
Frank asked you a question at one point—something about your job—and you answered with the softest voice, stammering a little. Erin leaned in to hear. Jamie smiled encouragingly. No one laughed. But your hands still shook under the table.
Danny noticed. Of course he did.
During dessert, he leaned over and whispered, “You’re doing great, baby.”
You shook your head slightly. “I—I haven’t said anything.”
“That’s what’s great about it,” he teased, earning the smallest laugh from you.
Henry, seated across from you, chimed in gently. “You know, most people try too hard the first dinner. Loud stories, trying to impress us. You… you remind me of someone I used to know.”
You blinked, lifting your gaze toward him.
“My late wife,” he continued with a fond smile. “Quiet. Thoughtful. Knew when to listen. The best people usually do.”
That made your heart skip.
You whispered, “Thank you,” so quietly you weren’t sure anyone heard—but Henry gave you a little nod that said he did.
As the dishes were cleared, Eddie came by and squeezed your shoulder with a reassuring smile. “I thought I was gonna faint my first dinner,” she whispered conspiratorially. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re already Reagan-adjacent.”
Danny let out a low whistle when he overheard that. “That a real title?”
Eddie shrugged. “Honorary until further notice.”
♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎♦︎
Later, outside on the stoop as you waited for a cab, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“I made a fool of myself,” you murmured, your voice still tight from the anxiety.
Danny tilted his head toward you. “Hey, no you didn’t.”
“I barely said five words.”
He smiled, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Exactly. You didn’t overshare. You didn’t try to be someone you’re not. You just… came. You showed up. That meant everything.”
You hesitated. “They weren’t… disappointed?”
Danny snorted. “Please. My family? They loved you. Erin already texted me saying you’re ‘surprisingly adorable,’ which is practically a love letter from her.”
You looked down, hiding a smile behind your hand.
Danny reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. “You were brave tonight. I know that wasn’t easy for you. But you did it. And I’m proud of you.”
You squeezed his hand back, voice barely a whisper. “Thank you… for not letting go.”
“Never,” he said simply.
As the cab pulled up, Danny opened the door for you, pressing a kiss to your temple before you slipped inside.
And though you still felt small in a big, noisy world…
You knew now, at least one seat at that big table would always be there, waiting for you.
Summary: After years of loss, Danny Reagan gets a second chance at love — and fatherhood — when he marries Y/N. As they welcome their baby girl, Grace, into the world, Danny learns that healing doesn’t erase the past… but it can bring a brighter future, one heartbeat at a time. 💘
Thank you to the person who requested this! I wish I could tag you!
The nursery walls were painted a soft, creamy pink — not too bold, not too pastel. You’d picked it out, saying it felt like “sunlight on your best day.” Danny had just stared at you, paintbrush dripping in his hand, and said, “Then it’s perfect.”
Now, just a few weeks away from your due date, you stood in that same room with your hands resting on your belly, swaying slightly to the soft jazz coming from the baby monitor speaker. A lullaby version of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.”
“You okay?” came Danny’s voice from the doorway.
You turned. He was leaning on the frame, tie half-untied, coat slung over his shoulder, eyes soft in a way only you got to see now.
“I’m good,” you said. “She’s just... quiet tonight.”
Danny stepped in and knelt in front of you, resting a hand gently against your stomach. “She knows I’m home. She’s giving you a break.”
“She’s already better than her father, then,” you teased. He laughed, and that warm, gravelly sound made you feel safer than any lock or alarm system ever could.
Then the laughter faded, and he looked up at you — those stormy blue eyes suddenly glassy.
“Sometimes I look at you, at all of this,” he whispered, “and I can’t believe I get to do it again.”
You slid your fingers into his hair, threading them gently through the silver strands he always grumbled about but you secretly adored. “This isn’t again, Danny. This is new.”
He kissed your bump. Then your hand. Then your lips. “I love you.”
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
It happened fast. Faster than anyone expected.
Your water broke while you were baking cookies — barefoot in the kitchen, of all things, like a cliche out of a Hallmark movie. You’d dropped the spatula, yelled something about “Danny freakin’ Reagan get in here right now,” and within minutes, the house was chaos. Danny was suddenly all action: grabbing bags, throwing on clothes, calling Jamie, somehow tripping over his own shoes while insisting, “I’m calm. I am very calm.”
You were wheeled into the delivery room just after midnight, gripping his hand like a lifeline, sweat on your brow, cursing him through every contraction.
“Danny Reagan, if you ever touch me again, I swear—”
“I love you too, babe.”
Four hours later, she arrived.
Grace Linda Reagan.
All 7 pounds, 4 ounces of her. A full head of dark hair and her father’s frown — which, admittedly, looked a lot cuter on a newborn.
Danny held her first, because your arms were too shaky. And the second she settled against his chest, something in him cracked open — a quiet kind of breaking that had nothing to do with grief, and everything to do with healing.
He looked at you, eyes brimming.
“She looks like you,” he whispered.
You shook your head, exhausted but smiling. “She looks like home.”
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
If the Reagan dinners were loud before, they were thunderous now — everyone talking over each other, trying to get a turn holding Grace.
Frank had held her exactly once, and you’d swear you saw the man tear up when she wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb. Even Henry had gone full softie, cooing in a way that made Danny mutter, “Never saw that side of Pop when I was growing up.”
Jamie and Eddie had brought a handmade baby blanket. Erin showed up with a stack of parenting books and then immediately told you to ignore all of them. Jack and Sean hovered around like bodyguards.
But it was Danny who couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Even during dinner, he kept glancing over at the bassinet beside the table, like she might float away if he blinked.
“She’s fine,” you whispered, nudging him gently.
“I know,” he said. “It’s just... I forgot how small they are. I forgot how fast they grow.”
You slid your hand into his under the table. “She’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.”
He turned to you then, eyes full of something wordless — the kind of love that speaks not in grand gestures, but in the quiet decision to keep choosing someone every single day.
After dinner, the family crowded into the living room, but you stayed back in the dining room, rocking Grace slowly in your arms while the laughter echoed from the next room.
Danny found you like that — bathed in the golden light of the chandelier, humming softly to your daughter.
“You two look like a painting,” he said.
You looked up at him, tired but at peace. “We’re not perfect.”
“No,” he agreed. “But we’re real. And we’re ours.”
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
The rain had started falling — soft and steady against the windows. Grace was finally asleep in the bassinet beside your bed, bundled in the little pink blanket that Frank had called “entirely impractical” and then promptly gifted anyway.
You were curled up against Danny’s chest, your fingers drawing lazy circles on the old NYPD t-shirt he wore to bed.
“I think she smiled today,” you murmured.
“She probably had gas.” You elbowed him. He kissed your hair. “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For saying yes to this. For saying yes to me. I know I came with baggage. History. A whole damn precinct on my back.”
You looked up at him. “You came with heart. With sons who needed someone to believe in them. With love so big, it scared me. You’re not too much, Danny. You were never too much.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “She’s gonna know it, you know. How loved she is. Every single day.”
“She already does.”
And just then, Grace let out a soft sigh in her sleep — a little breath that sounded almost like a dream.
Danny smiled. You smiled. And for the first time in a long time, everything felt whole.
