#I just wanted to test out the writing on it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hayleythesugarbowl · 3 days

Note

hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while they’re on patrol they run into someone who knows the reader’s abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea 😅

Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • john nolan fic ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you

word count: 10.3k

warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff

a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.”

The dispatcher’s voice filled the silence of the car.

“7-Adam-19 responding.” Officer Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.

“What’s the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?” Tim asked you after a moment.

“Why did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?” you muttered.

You’d been Bradford’s rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?

“Is that your answer, Boot?”

“No, um, I guess it would be that he’s armed. But no, that’s too obvious for you. Ok, what about what they’re stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?”

Tim sighed, looking bored. “Wrong. It’s—”

“Suspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,” came the dispatcher’s update, interrupting your TO’s answer.

“Looks like we’re headed east,” Tim said, turning sharply in the direction you’d just come from.

“Saved by the suspect,” you joked.

“Don’t think this is over,” Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. “Lessons don’t stop for crime.”

“Ok, batman.”

Tim glared at you.

“I mean, Sir.”

After you’d first been assigned to Officer Bradford, you’d been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.

Well, technically your first thought was damn, because you’d have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But you’d quickly quelled that thought—crushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer.

So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him.

You would be lying if you said that wasn’t how things still were between you two, to a degree—you trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible.

But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more.

“There!” You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.

Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off.

You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” Tim shouted at the man.

The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his options—how easily he could take out two cops.

“Set the weapon down, nice and easy,” Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.”

The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground.

“The answer was dialogue, by the way,” Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. “Dialogue is the most important thing when dealing with an armed suspect.”

“Good to know,” you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. “Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

The man’s gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands.

“Hey, lady cop, you look familiar,” the criminal squinted at you.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said. You’d never seen this man in your life.

“I swear—”

“Hands on the car!” You ordered

The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop.

“Wait a minute,” the man sized you up before smirking slowly. “Your Paul Cranston’s girl, ain’t ya?”

You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms.

“No, no I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere,” the criminal whispered. “He told me all about you. Hey, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a friendly tip?”

You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.

He winced. “So you didn’t hear then? Paul’s out.”

No. That couldn’t be true. Paul wasn’t supposed to be out for—

“Boot, you going to cuff him or not?” Tim called impatiently.

“Right.” You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.

Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it.

Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.

“Wait, Paul’s got a message for you!” the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. “He said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasn’t gotten his revenge. He’s out—and he’s coming for you.”

“That’s enough, get in the car.” Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the man’s words played over and over again.

He’s out, and he’s coming for you.

“What the hell was that?”

You looked up to Bradford’s questioning—and furious—face. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him.

“Sorry, I—”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t stop criminals from escaping,” Tim shouted. “Get your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, don’t you, Boot?”

“Yes, sir.”

So much for Tim trusting you. You couldn’t believe you’d almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that name—

Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. “You know, I should write you up for that.”

You noticed his wording. “But you’re not going to?”

He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying,

“I didn’t say that. First you’re going to tell me what just happened between you two.”

You flinched. “It—nothing. It was nothing.”

“Uh-huh. It didn’t sound like nothing. Who’s Paul Cranston?”

You swallowed hard. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

A million images flashed through your head. Paul’s face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital.

You shook yourself out of it. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You swore you’d never talk about it again. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we get back to the station. Don’t we have to book this guy?”

Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Control, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,” Tim spoke into his radio.

And so much for not talking about this now.

“Can you do that without suspicion of a crime?” You asked him.

“You can when dispatch loves you.” He winked at you.

You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking.

“Paul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.”

Tim turned his gaze to you. “How do you know this man, Boot?”

“It’s—a long story,” you told him.

“Well then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,” Tim commanded, making a left turn.

“Can’t you just let it go?” You asked him. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

He’s out, and he’s coming for you.

You couldn’t fight the shiver that racked your body.

Tim’s eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you.

“If this is another one of your ‘I’m dying, where are we’ tests—”

“Boot, focus,” Tim barked.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern if—”

“Of course it’s my concern!” Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat.

He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, “It’s my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I can’t do that if you’re withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.”

“Fine,” you breathed. “It was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.”

“Until?” Tim prompted.

“Until he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?”

You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.

“Apparently, he’d been stealing since high school and turns out he’d lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop and—”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station.

“—and he hit me. It didn't stop after that—once he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyone—about the robberies, the beatings—that he’d kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, he’d make good on his promise.”

Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didn’t speak.

“But then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested and—and that’s all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.”

You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and you’d moved on with your life.

But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed.

“It’s actually why I joined the academy,” you finished. “I wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.”

You were both silent for a moment.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw ticked. “Does the department know?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s all part of my file.”

“And the guy back there?”

You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. “He must be one of Paul’s partners or goons or—I don’t know. I guess he’s been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.”

The thought made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you kept going. “It’s been years, I just—I didn’t expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tim ignored that. “Do you think it was an empty threat?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I sure as hell hope so.”

Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.

The radio crackled to life. “7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.”

“Negative,” Bradford answered the dispatch call.

You stared at him, shocked. “Why aren’t we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.”

“Yeah, I agree,” the suspect chimed in from the backseat. “I think you should take that first.”

Tim payed him no attention. “They’ll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.”

“You’re not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?” You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you.

“What’s a 215, Boot?”

“Carjacking.”

“Correct.” Tim nodded. “And we’re going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“Paul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.”

You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriend’s file. You stared into Paul’s face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles.

Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall.

“The department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)’s history with Mr. Cranston,” Grey continued. “And will take necessary action should the situation progress.”

“So, what’s the course of action here?” Tim crossed his arms.

“I’m afraid, as of now, there isn’t one,” Grey said. “Since there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, we’d essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesn’t exactly consider it a threat.”

“Doesn’t consider it a threat?” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. “How about a charge for threatening an officer?”

“But Paul didn’t threaten an officer,” you sighed, thinking. “The armed robbery suspect did.”

“Exactly, Officer (Y/l/n),” Grey agreed. “Basically, our hands are tied.”

“Then untie them,” Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. “There’s gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure to—”

“That’s enough, Officer Bradford,” The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. “I appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)’s safety, but we’ve done all we can do. And, for now, that’s nothing.”

Tim’s concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldn’t figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadn’t exactly done anything to make you believe he’d care so much.

“Failure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,” Tim said, his jaw clenched. “Who’s to say this guy won’t make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)’s residence.”

“Tim, its fine,” you said, your voice firm. “Let it go.”

They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you again—and that was a good thing.

But, then, you couldn’t get those words out of your head.

He’s out and he’s coming for you.

Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked so…resolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when you’d walked in on him in the training rooms.

Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time.

“We’ll send a surveillance team to Paul’s location in the morning,” Grey said, turning to address you. “But for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Good. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way that’s less than exemplary. I trust that’s not the case?”

You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier.

“No, Sir,” Tim said instead. “My rookies don’t do ‘less than exemplary’. Don’t worry about (Y/l/n)—she’s proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.”

“Glad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,” Sergeant Grey waved everyone away.

You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so.

You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.

“Thanks,” you said. You couldn’t believe he’d told Grey all that—it was the most complimentary thing he’d said about you in your whole time riding with him.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Tim stated, shrugging. “I expect you to live up to any praise I’ve given you.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling.

“Besides, you’re being trained by me. You’d have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.”

“And he’s humble too,” you teased. “But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Whatever, Boot.” Tim smiled, shaking his head.

“Be nonchalant all you want,” you said, feeling brave. “I know you like me.”

For a brief moment, Tim looked like you’d slapped him. But then, the flash of—whatever that was—was gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference.

“In your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),” he stated. “It’s not about liking you. It’s about training you.”

You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like you’d just met. “Of course, how could I forget.”

Tim stayed silent.

“Well, I should head out,” you told him, “I’ve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.”

You’d meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than you’d care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room.

You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Tim’s retreating figure.

“So how’d you do it?” Bishop looked you up and down.

“Do what?” You asked, confused.

“Get Tim wrapped around your finger,” Lopez answered for her, smirking.

You felt your eyes widen. “Tim’s not—”

“Please,” Lopez put her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched him train dozens of rookies and he’s never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured you’re either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.”

You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Tim—together. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it.

“No, that’s not—neither one of those things,” you answered quickly. “Trust me, Tim doesn’t give me any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. I actually can’t tell if he hates me half of the time.”

“We’re not implying anything,” Bishop replied. “Only observing. And he doesn’t hate you.”

“How can you possibly know that?” You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Tim—that you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you weren’t friends.

“Because I’ve seen him hate plenty of people,” Bishop spoke. “And he definitely didn’t look at them the way he looks at you.”

The way Tim looked at you? You weren’t aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.

“What are you guys trying to say?” You asked them.

“I’m saying watch out,” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Because Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.”

Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?

“Um, ok,” you said, blinking. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

“Don’t believe us if you want, it’s your call,” Bishop shrugged, backing up. “But I’m telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.”

And with that she walked out of the room.

“Bishop can be intense,” Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. “She’s got that whole ‘anti-cops-dating’ thing going on—but I do think she’s right about this. Tim’s tough, and I’m sure he gives you hell—but it’s not because he doesn’t like you. I actually think it’s quite the opposite. ”

Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldn’t even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie.

“Well you’ve certainly left me with a lot to think about,” you said finally.

“Then I’ll let you start thinking—you’re welcome for the peace of mind.”

You wouldn’t have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didn’t look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didn’t feel like dealing with right now.

“And take care,” Lopez said knowingly. “We have your back if anything happens.”

With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.

“Right, that. You—you think something’s going to happen?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

“I think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,” she corrected. “But I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.”

She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.

You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.

You hoped she was right—you just couldn’t say which you hoped she was more right about.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later.

When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day would’ve been a police chase or a shootout. You never would’ve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.

Funny how things could change so fast.

Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot.

Get a grip, you told yourself.

You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.

You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Driving you home, Boot,” Tim said. “Get in the car.”

“Tim, you don’t have to—”

“That wasn’t a question, give me the keys.”

There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didn’t really want to fight him.

You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh.

Tim started the engine.

“If this is about Paul, this really isn’t necessary,” you said after you’d been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. “I can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.”

“You’re a rookie,” Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. “And if the department won’t do anything, then I will.”

“What—we’re not going to go looking for him, are we?” You asked.

“Of course not,” Tim scoffed. “I’m not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?”

“Take a left at the light,” you guided.

Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys.

“Thanks,” you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.

You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?”

“Tim—”

“No more protests,” he said firmly. “As your TO, I—”

“No, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldn’t I have just driven my own car?”

“I don’t let my rookies drive,” Tim walked past you and to the front door. “Even off-duty.”

You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.

When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the space—it wasn’t exactly like you’d been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.

“How many entrances and exits are there?” Bradford asked.

“Um, just the front door. And there’s windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,” you said.

You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadn’t noticed.

“Please, Boot,” Tim made a face. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

“Ok no offense, but I usually don’t let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,” you joked.

“If that’s an offer, I’m going to have to politely decline.”

“What—no,” you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. “I just meant—”

Tim interrupted. “I’m going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

“Is that really needed?”

“I’m not taking any chances.” He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor.

Your TO returned a few minutes later. “All clear.”

“See, everything’s fine,” you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim.

“Well,” Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say everything is fine. Your storage closet’s a fire hazard.”

Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?

“I’ll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,” you said sarcastically. “And if you keep insulting my living space, I’m going to be forced to kick you out.”

“Bold for someone whose career I could end.”

“You can’t end my career for that,” you shot back. Paused. “Can you?”

Tim raised his eyebrows.

“Only one way to find out,” you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the closet trap you on the way out.

“Nice try, Boot. But you’re still stuck with me for,” Tim checked his watch. “eight hours.”

“Nine hours,” you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.

“You’re right, I should get us drinks,” Tim joked.

You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Is all you own ginger ale, Boot?” He called.

“There’s six year old tequila in the cupboard,” you suggested.

“Ginger ale it is.”

Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.

You noted the careful distance he put between you.

“What’s this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?” Tim asked, inspecting the couch.

You smothered a laugh.

“Get comfortable. It’s where you’re sleeping,” you answered.

“Won’t be necessary. If you’re not awake you’re not aware.”

“So, what, we’re taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?” You asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t come here to sleep.”

“Tim I can’t let you stay up all night while I’m unconscious.” you sighed.

“You can if it’s an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response time…”

You tried not to take offense at that. “Right, Eagle Eye.”

Tim glared at you.

“Angela told me.”

“Of course she did. And at least I didn’t leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.”

“Sparky could’ve been involved in the crime,” you said, indignant. “And that was one time!”

“One time too many,” Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling.

“Ok, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?” You shot back.

“Damn straight.” Tim nodded.

“You made no mistakes, at all?” You prompted.

“Well,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “There was one thing.”

“Aside from the graffiti incident?”

“That wasn’t a mistake because it wasn’t my fault. I was following direct orders and—you know what, never mind. If you don’t want to hear it—”

“No, no, I do!” you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. “And none of that ‘I worked too hard and too efficiently’ crap.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically. “My first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which was—”

“Boring and tedious? I can imagine,” you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.

“I was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,” Bradford corrected. “But anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppy—”

“You? Sloppy?” You interrupted.

“Do you want me to tell you this story or not?”

“Right, sorry. Continue.”

Tim did. “I’d just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide was…a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you now.

“Forensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,” Bradford sighed. “But the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my locker—apparently Smitty has a guy.”

“Tell me you kept them,” you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Of course not!”

Tim blinked.

“Well, not all of them—Isabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,—”

“Tim—”

You’d heard about Bradford’s ex-wife. How she’d become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadn’t said so.

She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him.

“I’m fine.” Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to talk about her…before. She’s on the right path now.”

You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails.

“Are you still in love with her?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t know why you asked—didn’t know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldn’t have even dared to ask that question.

But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.

His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.

But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. “No. I’ll always care about her and she’ll always be someone that I did love. But relationships change—people change.”

You nodded. “I get it—I mean, I’m kind of rusty on relationships—but I get it. I actually haven’t dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.”

It was the first time you’d admitted that to anyone. You wouldn’t have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before you’d just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasn’t on the clock.

You imagined this happening more often—you and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didn’t have to end before it started.

You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely.

“Hey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,” you told him, you’re voice soft.

“Don’t take it personally, Boot,” he said. “My house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.”

“I’m honored,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “But you have to admit this has been fun—hanging out.”

Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.

Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from you

“Listen, Boot—”

He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound.

You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Tim’s hand went to his gun. You did the same.

Tim turned to you. “Stay here.”

“Like hell,” you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.

If that sound was someone—Paul—breaking in, you weren’t going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you.

He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following.

“Clear,” he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.

The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadn’t checked yet.

You glanced to Tim, but he hadn’t heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom.

You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.

Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth.

Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window

Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut.

Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you.

“Did you miss me?” Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand.

You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man.

“I guess you got my man’s message,” Paul continued. “Because you don’t exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.”

Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.

Paul shook his head, laughing. “No, no. If you move even an inch I’ll shoot you right in the forehead.”

You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.

“Listen to me,” he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. “I know there’s someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you. I’d like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, I’m not picky. Is that clear?”

You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.

You gasped in air. “Backup’s going to be in here any second and then you’re going back to prison.”

Tim would notice you were gone. He had to.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Paul smiled. “I’ll be long gone and you’ll be long dead before that happens.”

You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?

Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. “Just as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, that’s right. You betrayed me.”

“And that was the best decision I ever made,” you spat.

Paul backed up, shaking his head. “You’ve gotten feistier, baby. It’ll make this so much more fun for me.”

He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. “This’ll be just like old times.”

Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Get down on the ground!” Tim growled.

Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting.

You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.

“You have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,” Tim bit out, his expression murderous.

“Come on, baby, you’re not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?” Paul appealed to you.

You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. “You heard him. Get on the ground.”

Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists.

You took a moment to be amused—of course Tim had off-duty cuffs.

“So this ends the way it starts, huh?” Paul shook his head. “You getting me locked up?”

“Just like old times,” you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.

Anger sparked in Paul’s eyes before he took on a smug expression. “You’re right. You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Don’t listen to him, Boot,” Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground.

“You know I’m right,” Paul’s manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. “You’ll always be that person I knew—the person who loved me. Because you did—love me. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitch—”

He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.

“That’s enough!” Tim shouted. “If you ever threaten—no, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you don’t get to make her feel small. If I didn’t think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, I’d kill you right now—screw the department.”

Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. “Tim, stop.”

Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody.

“And she’s not a victim,” Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. “She’s a survivor.”

With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.

“Probably hurts like hell, but you won’t need stitches. Any other injuries?”

“Um, he hit me in the back of the head,” you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.

Tim’s hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.

Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position.

“What’s the damage?” You almost whispered.

Tim’s eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. “You’ll have a nasty bruise, but there’s no external bleeding.”

Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

“Are you—are you ok, Boot?” He asked carefully.

How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened.

“I will be,” you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.

Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat.

“I’m going to call for back up, you go clean that up,” Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. “You need help?”

“No, I got it,” You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“This is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 1.”

Tim’s voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.

You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples.

Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counter

Images flooded your senses.

The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.

Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.

He’s in custody. You told yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.

You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm.

You pictured Paul’s grip on you. His words rang in your ears.

You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.

The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head.

You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldn’t. You couldn’t—

The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.

You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.

I’m ok, you tried to tell yourself. I’m ok. I’m ok.

You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body.

“Boot?”

The muffled voice was closer than the others had been.

“Boot?” The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice.

“Boot, I’m coming in,” he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open.

“Dammit,” he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didn’t look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.

“Hey, look at me,” Tim coaxed. “(Y/l/n), breathe.”

He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.

“Hey, Boot, I got another test for you,” he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.”

“What?” You rasped, barely hearing him.

“Bishop’s an easy target,” he said. “And Lopez is a slob, so you can’t go wrong there. West’s got the whole daddy issues thing. Don’t even get me started on Nolan—”

You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.

“And then there’s me. I mean, I’m annoying right?”

You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly.

Tim smiled. “Oh so you agree? It’s ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.”

When you didn’t say anything, Tim kept talking. “Personally I’d go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and I’m convinced he doesn’t own a decent looking tie.”

“L-like the—the green one from last week,” you managed, trying to slow your breathing.

“Leprechauns would call it tacky,” Tim agreed. “Now, since we’ve discussed this from all angles I’m going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.”

You gulped. “Are—are you going to get me fired if I say you?”

Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. “I knew it. Guess who’s going back to long-sleeves on Monday?”

“In this heat wave? You—you wouldn’t dare,” you joked, sniffing.

“I don’t know, I am the most annoying person you work with—sounds like something I might do.”

You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal.

“There you go.” Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer.

“For what, doing my job?”

You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. “Sorry for um—”

“Having a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Don’t apologize for being human,” Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.

“So, he’s gone?” You’re voice came out small.

Tim’s expression softened. “He’s gone.”

You nodded again, looking at the floor.

“Hey, (Y/n), look at me.” Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. “He’s never going to hurt you again, ok? I’ll make sure of that.”

You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. “I know. And I’ll understand if after…all this, you don’t see me fit to—to be a police officer anymore.”

Tim’s eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. “With all do respect, Boot, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back there—you’re a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Don’t let it define you because then he wins. You’re a great cop, (Y/l/n). It’s rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.”

You listened to Tim speak. He sounded so…passionate. Bishop’s words came back to you.

Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.

You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. He’d been so kind to you in this past hour—staying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in.

And then this. Talking about you like he…like he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training

Officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that.

“So what I’m hearing is, I’m getting a promotion?” You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence.

Bradford put up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.”

You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory.

You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century.

“Now come on,” Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Let me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?” You teased.

“That’s not true.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nine-thirty,” he admitted.

You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.

You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself.

“Since my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess we’re both crashing out here,” you sighed, gesturing to the couch.

Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming.

“Or, right, I guess you can go now. Danger’s over.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim said. “And get to bed even later? I’m not going anywhere.”

You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational.

“I’ll get the blankets and stuff,” you said, turning back the way you’d came.

“Let me go with you,” Tim offered.

“I would but they’re in the closet and I don’t want it to trap you or something,” you said.

“You think I can’t take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,” Tim challenged and you led him down the hall.

A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bed—you were grateful you’d opted for this couch instead of a regular one—and you stood back, admiring your work.

“Take the couch,” you told him. “It was your bed originally.”

“Not gonna happen.” Tim crossed his arms. “It’s your house. And you’re injured.”

“I’m fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?” You asked him.

Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed.

“Are you sure you’re ok on that?” You asked. It didn’t exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.

“Trust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.”

You smiled. “So, what, you’re just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?”

“I can leave, if you’re—”

“No,” you’re voice came out faster and more sharp than you’d intended. “I mean, you came all this way, I don’t want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.”

You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change.

“We should get some sleep, it’s been a long night,” Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room.

“Damn, boot,” you heard Tim’s voice even though you couldn’t see him anymore. “It’s pitch black in here. You don’t sleep with a light or anything?”

“Well I don’t usually sleep in my living room,” you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. “Wait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?”

Tim scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you teased.

“There is no secret,” Tim shot back.

You winked. “Exactly.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.” You smiled.

The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down.

You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by.

“Do you—do you think he really would’ve shot me?” You asked, finally.

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fear—on desperation. He couldn’t have that if you were dead. In his mind, he’d be losing his power over you.”

He paused.

“Besides, I don’t think he would’ve gotten the chance,” Tim said. “He clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.”

You snorted. “Did you just say ‘badass-ness’?”

“It’s a word!” Tim defended.

You laughed, turning over on your side.

“But seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,” Tim said, sounding earnest. “I mean it.”

“I may just take you up on that,” you responded. “Do you tell that to all your rookies?”

You could barely make out Tim’s frame in the dark. “No, not all of them.”

“I’m going to take that as I’m special,” you said.

Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“You know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “But I told them it was just that—crazy.”

Tim didn’t speak.

“It is crazy right?” You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. “Right?”

“Boot, look—” Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadn’t talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears.

“Tim?”

You could hear more than see Tim’s movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat.

“Dammit, Boot, I can’t do this,” he finished. “I can’t do this right now, (Y/n).”

Your pulse quickened. He hadn’t denied it.

You stood up.

And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secret—made you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragement—or, lack of discouragement.

But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him.

Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.

And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back.

His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.

It was desperate and raw and passionate—it was perfect.

You broke apart, both gasping for breath.

“Listen, Boot,” Tim started. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You’ve had a long and confusing day—”

You interrupted him. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. But I’m not confused about this.”

You brought your lips to his again. This time he didn’t hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt.

When you came apart again, he was smiling.

“Well, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,” you whispered.

“I don’t hate you, Boot,” Tim said. “I actually hate how much I don’t hate you.”

You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.

“Boot—”

“If you’re going to say that this is a bad idea, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” you said.

“I thought that was obvious.” Tim stated matter-of-factly. “I was going to say actually I’d appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, because—”

You laughed, kissing him again.

“But seriously,” Tim continued. “You know we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You pouted. “If it’s what we both want.”

“It’s not about what we want—we could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.”

You knew he was right. Of course he was right.

“But is it—what you want?”

“God yes,” Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. “It’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard it’s been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do was—”

He broke off, running a hand along his hair.

“Then do it.” Your heart pounded in your chest. “You’ll only be my TO for a few more months, we’ll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.”

Tim looked at you.

“Ok you’re right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know something’s up,” you admitted.

“I guess I’ll just have to transfer,” Tim joked.

“What happened to ‘Tim Bradford finished what he starts’?” You asked.

“Oh I intend to do just that,” Tim whispered. “Are we really thinking about doing this?”

You thought about the consequences you could face—Tim could face—if it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge risk—one that could get you cut from the program.

You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long you’d wanted this, even if you didn’t fully know it until tonight.

And the decision seemed clear.

“Yeah,” you beamed. “Yeah I think we are.”

He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.

“You need rest,” Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. “As much as I’d love to do this all night.”

You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.

“What’re you doing?” You asked him.

“Going to bed,” Tim answered, as if it was obvious.

“Get over here,” you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Tim smiled.

You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.

You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.

“You know, this will kind of be like doing undercover work—minus the threat of getting killed,” you said.

“I don’t know about that—I wouldn’t put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.”

“We’ll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,” Tim agreed.

“And that’s different from any other day how?” You shot back, sitting up.

“Hey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think I’m going to throw your education out the window simply because—”

You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face.

“What?” You asked.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/n),” Tim breathed. “I’m so glad I can finally tell you that.”

“Me too,” you said. “Even if it took…this for it to happen.”

“Speaking of which, maybe I’ll take a sick day tomorrow,” Tim said. “Since there’s no way Grey—or myself—is letting you go to work. What’d you say?”

You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up.

“I say I’m glad your house is being repainted,” you teased. “Because then you’ll have to stay with me.”

Tim smiled knowingly. “My house isn’t being repainted, Boot. And I’m all yours.”

You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You felt safe, protected in his arms.

The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.

But for now, this was enough. He was enough.

“Tim?” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. “Thanks for…everything.”

“What are TOs for,” Tim shrugged.

“Apparently keeping the night light business afloat.” You giggled at the look on Bradford’s face.

“Shut it, Boot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed loves!! i’m so down bad for tim it’s not even funny 😵‍💫

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #the rookie #the rookie x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #tim bradford x rookie!reader #eric winter #eric winter x reader

141 notes · View notes

buddie911abc · 1 day

Text

Here I go again.

Buck asks Eddie if his son is the real reason he doesn't date. Eddie responds with, "That and, they weren't my type."

This has been a flag for everyone who reads the subtext, but let's take a moment to look at the last GIF.

Eddie says they weren't his type. Buck turns around to look at them and probably assesses what makes them, 'not' Eddie's type because the girls were all subjectively pretty. There were also a variety of types of women there.

But look closely at the GIF. Eddie said they weren't his type. While Buck is glancing back, Eddie gives Buck a quick look that really screams, "You are it. You are the type." When I noticed this from the GIF edit, I thought it might be the creator slowing it down, but nope. If I look at the episode, it is the same or nearly the same. This is early season two, and I have always thought, in the early episodes, there was no intent to pair Eddie with Buck as anything but a friend. However, this scene makes me wonder at what point Tim M or whoever was writing changed their minds about adding in a subtextual narrative.

I find it very difficult to see this scene as a heteronormative exchange. In fact, it even feels like Eddie is pushing back a little to test where Buck stands. Buck as a character who lacks self-awareness gives a mixed signal answer. (which tracks with his character at this point and matches his coming-out arc.) **edited to clarify** Buck's mixed signal response to Eddie saying they aren't my type is, "Not mine either, at least not anymore."**

A few seconds later, Buck says Eddie has a weak excuse. My lovely and wonderfully sassy Eddie says, "You live in your invisible girlfriend's house, and you're telling me about weak excuses." He essentially points at Buck's closet door, but of course, this is something that Buck couldn't see or pick up on at the time. These moments are small in the grand scheme of the show as a whole so I'm afraid it will be forgotten. It would be nice to have some sort of throwback acknowledgment that this scene hasn't been retconned.

To backtrack a little bit here, I would also like to point out something else about the early timing or the writing of these characters as potentially queer. They are outside. (True I don't understand the ins and outs of filmmaking so there may very well be a reason for this.) But the shot itself is making them walk close together. Not just close, their shoulders are literally bumping against each other, hitting and knocking at each other in a way that might appear "unintentionally" intimate--until you remember they are outside. It seems to me like there are dozens of ways to shoot this thing that don't require them to be so casually physical with each other. For the scene to be shot like this and then consider the canon conversation that took place, it feels quite intentional that the writers wanted viewers to look closely for something else.

Whenever certain people call Buddie shippers delusional, I think about this. Subtextual language aside, the scenes are shot in such a way as to plant the idea of "More." There is attraction here. There is flirting.

Someone, somewhere wanted to tell this story from the start; and I'm not mad about it. I'm 100% here for it, and I'm ready for it to go down as the most epic love story I've ever watched or read about, but I also admit that I want it to be canon, not so I can throw it in anyone's face that their ship is wrong, but so I can prove I'm not some weirdo putting two hot guys together. I'm seeing a real romance being built. I want that validation as much as I want everyone under the LGBTQ umbrella to see representation for themselves on screen.

If you want to see the scene, go to about 3:05.

youtube

#911 on abc #buddie #ryan guzman #oliver stark #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #Youtube

97 notes · View notes

emmg · 3 days

Text

Larian, we need to talk. You gave me these devilishly hot men, but I can’t sleep with them? What in the nine hells is this puritan nonsense?

I grew up on Pushkin, okay? My Siberian grandma raised me on tragic Russian literature, and now I’m sitting here thirsting over a devil, knowing she’d slap me with a slipper if she ever found out.

Raphael – like, sure, he’s the guy who’d ruin your life, but you’d still risk it because he probably smells like rich leather and dark promises. Probably a two-pump chump. Nope, can’t even test that theory. Thanks for nothing, Larian. DENIED.

Zevlor – listen, this man is a cinnamon roll with a sword, and I want to crawl on my knees and worship him like a damn saint. He deserves it. And you just know he’s got more than diplomacy under that armor. Smite me, Mr Paladin sir. But nah, that’s too much fun for us, isn’t it? (Also, the man’s got the potential for a full-blown villain arc if someone just pushed the right buttons. Am I alone in this? Probably. Still want it. Someone write it. Going traitor, self-loathing, feeling powerless *mwah*)

Rolan – oh, yeah, the guy who probably argued about Nietzsche in first-year philosophy class and then somehow grew into a halfway-decent human after getting a job and stop living off instant ramen. Still a big, steaming NO.

Fine, fine. I guess I’ll drag myself to AO3 (if it’s even online, which is as rare as a long rest in the Underdark). Someone drop the fanfic links. I'm ready to feel alive again, and too far gone for Lermontov.

#bg3 #as soon as I saw Zevlor I was like YES #and larian was like NO #i’m not mad imm just disappointed #also someone write that thing i said #raphael bg3 #zevlor bg3 #bg3 rolan

83 notes · View notes

jennasslut33 · 2 days

Note

Cairo Sweet x Masc!Fem!Reader

Cairo, Winnie, and R/Reader are classmates. R is in love with Cairo but she doesn’t reciprocate her feelings, not yet at least, and Cairo uses R to make someone else jealous. R has enough of this and decides to forget about Cairo. R and Winnie are besties.

Maybe a smut scene? At the end?

Top!Reader x Bottom!Cairo

If it doesn't fit, it doesn't!

It can and in multiple ways. I vote for the happy ending, but if you feel like you want more angsty ending, I understand! Plus, if you don't want to write about this, it's perfectly fine too!

Thank you, Hope you are doing well!

My pretty girl.

Warnings: smut, 18+, angst a bit?, fingering, praise, pussy eating, Masc!Fem!Reader x Cairo Sweet, top!r, bottom!Cairo.

MNDI!!

it was a normal day for you. You were currently sitting in cairos bedroom of her parents mansion that they left her while they were away. Cairo was studying - as per usual, smoking a cigarette - while you and Winnie were sitting on cairos queen sized bed.

You, you however were in love with cairo. Did she know that? Absolutely fucking not. Because you didn’t know how she felt about you. You didnt wanna take any chances, and ruin the friendship you and cairo have.

While you were lost in thought, staring at a wall, you felt a hand on your thigh, and someone shaking you back to reality and out of your thoughts. When you looked up, you saw cairo and Winnie staring at you, Winnie’s hand on your thigh.

“Are you good? We’ve been callin’ your name for like.. the past two minutes.” Winnie said, looking at you. You blinked a few times, you saw how cairo was looking at you; one of her perfect eyebrows raised in confusion and question, her perfect maroon lips wrapping around the filter of the cigarette— ugh, god, focus!

“hm? o-oh uhm.. yeah! y-yeah, im fine. I just uh.. spaced out for a second. Sorry.” You said, trying act like you weren’t imagining the best way to ask out cairo without ruining your friendship with her.

Winnie raised an eyebrow at you. “what were you thinking about that you couldn’t hear us screaming in your ear for a good two minutes?” she chuckled. You looked at cairo, and then back at Winnie.

“o-oh uhm.. just uhm.. t-tests.. that we have for school.. just wondering if im gonna pass or not..” you lied, because there was no way in fucking hell. That you were gonna admit that you were thinking about how to ask out Cairo, WHILE she was in the room.

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. I’m sure you did fine, you always get straight A’s, don’t you?” Cairo said, before taking a drag of her cigarette. “Well, sometimes not everything is gonna stay perfect.. I mean, I don’t know Jack shit about the world war. I tried to get as much information as I could, but I really couldn’t. I had such a busy schedule that I didn’t have enough time to study!” You exclaimed quickly, clearly in a bit of a panic. Because, well.. that also did happen.

“hey, hey! Calm down, girl. So what if you get something lower than an A? It don’t matter, all that matters is that you try your hardest, doll face” Winnie reassures. You sigh. You lay back on Cairos bed, and put your hands over your eyes. “God, im so fucking tired..” you say under your breath “then sleep.” Cairo said randomly. You sat up and looked at her.

“In your bed? Seriously?” You said with a raised eyebrow and a questioning tone of voice.. maybe a hint of sarcasm. “Yes, my bed. You’re already laying in it, and the floor is uncomfortable. Just sleep, Y/N” she said, clearly not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit.

“ugh, fine. You’re so bossy.” You said, laying back down and Winnie- well.. she was already knocked out cold on the couch next to the window.

About an hour goes by, and you feel someone’s arms wrapped around you from behind.. you were a masc.. “I don’t think this is how it works.. but uhm.. alright..” you think to yourself. You were just sleeping, and when you turned your head, your face went a bit red. Cairo?? why was she cuddling you?

“go back to sleep..” she said, mumbled into your neck. “why’re you cuddling me?” You asked quietly, not wanting to wake up Winnie. “because, you’re warm.” She said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You rolled your eyes and you went back to sleep, exhaustion taking over your body.

. . .

The next morning, you wake up and have a shower, do what you need to and get ready. Winnie and cairo were already up. You all walked to the school, following cairo because she knows where she’s going, since she does this every damn day.

When you, Winnie and cairo all got to school, all three of you were standing in the packed hallway, it was filled with students. 7:48 in the morning, “how the fuck do these kids have so much energy at this time of the morning..” you think to yourself.

Cairo saw the girl she liked, being touchy and flirty with another guy, and all of a sudden, you feel someone wrap your arms around their waist. You looked down and saw cairo.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, your eyebrow raised in confusion. You didn’t know that cairo liked someone else. “Nothing, just hold me, please? im cold.” She said, looking up at you. You smiled and held you tight against you.

Winnie wiggled her eyebrows at you, a small smirk on her face and you rolled your eyes and mouthed “shut up” to Winnie, making her giggle.

. . .

Ever since that day, it’s been about almost two months. You think that cairo likes you back, because she’s been touchy, flirty, calling you pet names and letting you sleep in her bed a lot more often.

Today was the day, you were gonna ask her out. you walked into school, and after the first two periods it was break, and you went to go find Cairo. Your heart slamming against your rib cage, you feel like you’re on one of those carnival rides, where they go up really high and then drop, and it makes your stomach feel like your insides were all the way up to your head.

You walked around for a while, and when you walked behind the school, you froze. Your eyes were wide, your heart broke into a million pieces. Cairo was making out with that girl she likes. Tears well up in your eyes. You feel so.. used, betrayed, hurt, angry, just a whole mix of emotions.

You ran off, and you went to go find Winnie. Once you did, you told her everything, and you couldn’t stop crying. You were just some toy for cairo to use, to make that girl jealous. Almost as if cairo never even wanted you in the first place.

the next few weeks, you became more distant, you didn’t go near cairo, you and Winnie stayed together. Whenever cairo would try to talk to you, you’d push past her and walk off, and go find Winnie.

. . .

Late one night, you got a text.

Cairo <3 (9:32 PM)

“Y/N, please talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

“You don’t even look at me anymore..”

you stared at those texts for a good five minutes. maybe even ten. you then replied back, your thumbs gliding across the screen as you texted back.

“You toyed with me, fucked with my feelings, and you used me to make another girl jealous?? What the fuck is wrong with you, cairo.”

your text was read immediately by Cairo, the three dots popping up on your screen that showed she was typing. while you waited, you scrolled through your social media until you saw her text pop up.

Cairo <3 (9:35 PM)

“im sorry, Y/N. But I really liked her, and she made me jealous, so I wanted to make her jealous..”

“please, I’ll make it up to you. I don’t want her anymore, I want you.”

“I miss you, Y/N.”

“Please, let me make it up to you”

you stared at the texts. You didn’t know if she was trying to get you back for her to use you again, or if she really wanted you to come back to her.

“Whatever. I’ll be over in 20 minutes.”

you got ready, and then got an Uber to Cairos mansion.

23 minutes later..

You finally arrived at her mansion and you walked inside. You walked up the large grand staircase and went to her room. You saw her laying on her bed, and when she saw you, she immediately stood up and went to run to you. You backed up.

“Y/N.. please I—“

“Shut up.” You said coldly, cutting her off. She looked taken aback, but she shut her mouth.

“Do you still want me, Cairo?” you asked, walking towards her slowly.

“y-yes..” she said quietly. she looked up at you, and you grabbed her chin between your thumb and index finger.

“She’s gone now, yes?” you asked, wanting nothing but the truth out of her pretty little mouth. all she did was nod.

“Do you want to be mine, cairo? Do you want me to make you mine?” you asked, your left hand now gripping her waist while your right hand was still holding her chin.

“yes.. please..” she said in a whisper.

“get on the bed.” “Now.” You demanded, which she obeyed immediately without question. You got on the bed as well, and you sat in front of her legs.

“Spread you legs for me.” you said, looking at her through your lashes. She did as she was told, spreading her legs wide. You straddled her hips, and leaned down, capturing her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. your tongues sliding together, lips moving against each other in rhythm.

You kissed along her jaw, down her neck, and all over her tits, kissing any part of that sweet, smooth, soft, squishy flesh of hers that was visible. You kissed down her stomach, nipping at her skin every now and then, and that’s when you made it to between her thighs. You looked at her.

“Lift up.” You said, your fingers hovering above the waistband of her shorts, she obeyed, lifting her hips as you swiftly pulled her shorts and panties down, taking them off. You positioned yourself between her thighs, and pressed kisses, and gentle nips on her inner thighs. Her pussy was already dripping for you.

“Y-Y/N.. please..” she whined. You smirked, and you looked at her. “Please what? Use your words, Cairo.” You said as you continued to kiss and nip at her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to her dripping core.

“please.. I need you.. i-i want to be yours, Y/N.. please..” she begged. God, it was like music to your ears. “Good girl.” You praised, and your tongue then darted out, flicking over her clit as she gasped and moaned, those sweet, sweet sounds you had always longed to hear.

You continued to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves, until you slammed two fingers inside of her aching cunt, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure. You didn’t move them just yet. You wanted to hear her beg.

“w-why.. mmh.. w-why aren’t you moving..?” she said through heavy breaths. You pulled away from her clit, your fingers still inside of her. “beg for it.” “You want me to finger this pussy, then beg for it, Cairo.” You demanded. Her eyes widened slightly. “w-what..? w-why do I have to—“ you cut her off “do you want to cum or not?” you questioned, looking at her. she nodded, and whined softly as she could still feel your long, slender fingers inside of her, but not moving. “please.. Y-Y/N..” she begged. “Please what? use your words.” You said teasingly. “please.. please, Y/N, i-i.. I want you to fuck me..” she said through soft whines and heavy breaths.

“There you go. Good girl.” you praised, before taking your fingers out and then slamming them back into her. Your fingers pumping in and out of her aching wet pussy as she gripped the bedsheets so tight her knuckles turned white. She moaned, whimpered, begging you to slow down because she couldn’t take it, but you didn’t oblige. Your goal was to make sure that she wasn’t gonna see that other bitch again, that she was utterly, and completely yours.

“mmh.. I-I wanna—“ she said through moans, her own moan cutting her off mid sentence. “you wanna what? talk, doll face.” you said, still fingering her at a brutal, and senseless pace. “c-cum! w-wanna cum, please!” She begging through loud moans. You could tell she was close, her velvet coloured walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you then curled them upwards, hitting the sweet, soft, spongy spot inside of her, making her gasp.

“Cum for me, cairo.” “I wanna hear you scream.” you said, not slowing your pace. As you kept going, and hit that sweet spot inside of her, her back arched off of the bed slightly, eyes rolled to the back of her head, as she screamed with pure pleasure. Her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.

you helped her ride out her high, finally slowing down your movements, and pulled your fingers out of her. Your fingers now coated in her sweet juices. you put your fingers in your mouth, tasting her. “Mmh.. you taste so good.” you then pulled your fingers out of your mouth. you kissed Cairos forehead, and caressed her cheek.

“You did so well for me, baby.” You praised, looking at her as you smiled softly. You cleaned cairo up, and cuddled with her in bed, spooning her from behind, your arms wrapped around her waist, your face buried into the back of her neck.

All of a sudden, Winnie walked in, jaw dropped. “What. The fuck. Did I just listen to.” She said, looking at you and cairo. “What the actual fuck, are you doing here? You heard everything?” You said, slight disbelief in your tone. “Yes, I heard everything. Goddamn, who knew you were such a dom, Y/N.” She smirked, looking at you. You rolled your eyes and looked at her. But she spoke before you could.

“Sooo..? What’s the deal? Are you two finally together now?” She asked, a hint of hope, amusement, and a tinge of excitement in her voice as she bit her lip, awaiting an answer. “Yeah, we are. She’s mine now.” You said, looking back at cairo who was now fast asleep.

“My pretty girl.”

you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Cairos neck, before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

________________________________

I hope this is good enough for you btw😭💕

I am still currently working on Keep Quiet pt.2 tho, so stick around pookies💋💋

#jenna ortega #cairo sweet #miller's girl #smut #jenna ortega smut #x y/n #cairo sweet x reader

75 notes · View notes

unconventional-lawnchair · 1 day

Note

There's not much Barty Crouch Jr content out there. If you don't mind writing about him, can I make a request? After escaping Azkaban, he serves his Lord to the best of his ability, but there is someone from his past that he still can't get out of his mind. A Slytherin and from a family of followers of the Dark Lord. They had a relationship during their youth. After many years, he finds her again. He always had a soft spot for her. But the reader (like Snape, a sort of spy) is secretly thinking against the Dark Lord and stays away from these things as much as possible, but she is definitely in danger. Things are complicated, but the strong attraction and longing between them cannot be ignored...

The Boy I Knew

Barty Crouch Jr. x Black!Fem!Reader

Cw; Y/N, obsessions, one sided love(Barty pining), Barty being unhinged. Reader is morally grey, Remus Lupin onesided love (Rem pining), sexual themes and scenes, mentions of murder}} Please tell me if I missed anything!

AN- this fanfic is now well over what it should have been. I am posting a fraction of the proofread bits as of now, as I realize this is probably not at all what you wanted and if so I am SO sorry. If you want more I have a pouch that just needs to be beta read

Wc-5670

Taglist: @defnotfrey @au-ghosttype

{. 1972 - Barty’s Year 1 .}

Bartemius Crouch Junior couldn't have been older than eleven when he first met {Y/N} Walburga Black. A cool upperclassman, if only by a year.

Bartemius, at that ripe age, knew only a handful of things, and two of those was how badly he wanted to be seen and known. He wanted to be seen for who he was, and known for what he would do. That's likely what drew him to you.

At only twelve, you and your brother had made a name for yourselves, in much different ways. Your brother was popular, for his quick tongue and clever quips, his innate ability to get under anyone's skin and stay there. Those traits could be forgiven, and they always were, for his big heart and intense sense of moral.

You, however, were known for harboring a few very non Black traits, like your intense empathy and your crazed thirst for knowledge. Even as a Slytherin, your loyalty and curiosity rivaled the students around you tenfold. Your bravery knew no bounds, even with all the wrongs you had been done, you were forgiving and understanding. You were seen by everyone, you were known for everything.

As he got older, he wondered where that forgiveness went. You grew cold.

When he was innocent, when he had done no wrongs, you cradled him in your hands like he was a gift. You looked at him with eyes you shared with everyone, so much care and patience, so much understanding and kindness. So if those eyes were shared with the masses, he struggled, but was determined, to keep them focused on himself at any chance given.

It was obvious to anyone who saw the two interact. Barty wanted to be witnessed by you. The halls filled with the judgeful and teasing murmurs when he found you in the halls.

“There goes {Y/N}’s prodigy.”

“Barty is off to find his guru.”

“That boy will never learn.”

“How annoying.”

Barty had never been ashamed of his declarations for praise. He knew most of the voices were bitter with jealousy. He would be jealous too. You were both so young, and yet even some older students looked to you like you were twice your age, yet every Friday when the tests were returned, you sat in the courtyard and waited for him. Your personal underclassman.

You would meet in the yard and he would brandish his flawless marks, you would praise his abilities in absolute pride. He had never had someone prideful of him before. Everyone knew him to be a mother’s boy, but he would challenge any of those claims. He was a {Y/N}’s boy, he'd tell them, no shame as students snickered and made their fun of him. He was never afraid of how much he liked you. How much he admired and respected you.

He would turn from the RavenClaw table and look to you after his announcements everytime, you would be eating with Lily Evans and the other girls of her group, but your eyes would be on him. You would give him a soft smile that drove him mad. He would return it with his own, the smile he would save for you. Just you.

When he was only eleven and you were twelve, everything was perfect for him. You focused your attention on studies, your friends, and of course, Barty. That's how it stayed for years.

He would reminisce in his cell, running his dulled nail along the jagged stone walls, carving intents of every minute that passed. Remembering all of the things he regretted most in his life. Losing your trust was where his spiral began. He was a foolish kid.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 3 .}

“It's getting embarrassing.”

Barty was eating lunch with one of the many friends he had made during his years at Hogwarts, Evan Rosier. He was once again bringing the conversation back to you, as he had been for the past few days.

“You trail after her like a loyal dog. Has she even given you a hint that she may return your feelings?”

“What feelings?”

Evan and you did not get along. You never had. When he first found himself growing closer to him, you voiced your distaste for Evan the very next day. Barty always trusted your judgment, he obeyed you without much of a fight in most cases. This was not one of those cases.

He figured you to be biased, your brother thought him to be a Death Eater and you despised them. Something he could never understand, you were a pureblood, a Black, you were a powerful witch, and you would never have to worry about falling for a half blood or muggleborn, or Merlin forbid, a muggle. You were smarter than that. He always figured. You wouldn't taint your legacy.

Not like your useless brother, who he could see even now, describing his entanglements with witches and wizards of any kind, to the other Marauders.

As the years went on, you and Barty’s meetings became scarcer and scarcer, they went from Fridays to every second Friday, finally, you now only met every last Friday of the month. Still, Barty clung to you with a desperation he never would give anyone else.

Recently, you had gotten into a fight. One where you expressed your worry for what could possibly happen to him if he got involved with the wrong crowd. Barty, admittedly, didn't respond in kind. He was furious with you. You questioned his company but pushed away from him, you questioned his morals and his standing on the war. He told you there was no war to him, there was no fight.

At the end of the day, he would be standing by you.

The answer seemed to distress you further. It turned into a match of shouts and desperate pleas of compliance. It caused a scene, people watched as you defended your standing on your side of the war, this fight you were having with yourself he assumed. There was no war. This was a power struggle.

Evan’s scoff snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up from his plate to his eyes.

“Barty, half the school knows you've been in love with her since first year.” He hissed and Barty frowned. Would he call it love? He didn't think about it long before he had his answer. Love wasn't something he looked for, but he found it constantly. From the love he shared with Pandora, to the love he shared with Regulus, even the love he was nurturing with the brutish Evan.

No love in his body burned hotter then his love for you.

He never thought about it because he never had to. Why would he? He knew you loved him too. He knew what you two shared was never anything that could be challenged. He was your prodigy. He was your prodigy. He didn't care for much, as long as he was yours.

Evan snapped his fingers in his face and drew his attention back to him. He gave a slick smirk and wet his lips. “Come on, Barty, she's just a girl. You're wasting talent. Talent that could be used for someone who actually appreciates you.”

“She does appreciate me.” Barty challenged immediately, before Evan smirked and gestured to the Gryffindor table. “Does she?”

Barty turned just in time to see you, he never had to stare at a crowd too long to find you.

You were sitting with your brother and his friends, side by side with Remus, sitting far too close for comfort. He was whispering something in your ear, making you giggle. Turning to look at him with the truest smile he's ever seen you make. Flashing your beautifully uneven teeth, your cheeks dimpling and eyes seeming to sparkle. Your eyes met Lupin’s and he took in your expression like he could die in that moment.

Barty had never seen you smile like that before. He had never seen you look that way before. You had never looked at him like that before.

He hadn't even noticed as he began to bend the fork in his hand, fist tightening as he watched as Remus lean in and stole a kiss against your cheek. You gave a bigger laugh at this. Moving in to kiss his lips carefully.

The wonderful moment you were having was interrupted when a loud snap sounded threw the cafeteria. Your eyes snapped over to the RavenClaw table, as did a lot of your peers. Barty had snapped a fork in half with his thumb alone. Before a professor could scold him, he got up from his seat and stomped out of the grand hall, and your eyes followed them.

You muttered a quick apology to Remus and he nodded in understanding as you scrambled to your feet to follow after him.

He wished he could take every word he called you in that hall back now. He wished he had been smart enough to know that loving you with you in his life would of been far less torture then loving a girl who hated your guts.

“You blood trader!”

“This! This is what I meant, Bartemius! My Barty would never-”

“You don't have a clue about me, you insolent heartbreaker! What of us, Black?”

“Us? What Us, Barty?”

That night he realized that no matter how genuine his love was for you, how deeply it ran, those times spent alone meant far more to him then it ever meant to you. You did stuff like that for everyone.

He wasn't entitled to your love. Running his nail down until it was blunted against the wall. Azkaban could no longer do more harm then it already had.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 4 .}

An entire school year. You and Barty didn't speak for an entire school year.

He kept his tabs on you, of course, because no matter what you said to him that day, you were still his person. Knowing how ignorant and how dangerously minded you could be, he took it upon himself to look over you. You may have been older, you may have sworn him, at one time, your loyalty and protection. But now, he had power of his own. He would repay you. He would repay and reeducate you, given the chance. With all the training him, Evan, Muliciber, Avery, even Snape had done? By Merlin’s beard he could do anything.

He had the mind to back that up, but he kept his power under wraps. You were always frightened by what you didn't understand, the last thing he wanted was for you to fear him. He wanted everyone to know him as fear, not you.

Never you.

When the school year started Barty noticed the shift instantly. He knew you like the back of his hand, far more than he let on most days, but it didn't take a genius to see that {Y/N} Black sitting with Regulus Black at the Slytherin table was odd.

He soon learned of what happened between Sirius and his family, a right disgrace. Then to learn Sirius scorned you from his life for choosing to stay with Regulus, that was probably what started Barty’s absolute disdain for your brother. You had gone through training per Regulus. Saying before Sirius left he let it slip about you and Remus, trying to entice you to leave with him. You refused and your mother lost it. Walburga was a stain on this earth for what she had done. Even then…

It was all for the better, as he saw it. You don't need the impressions of Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, Remus Lupin, or any others that pour their venom into a perfect witch as yourself. He would make sure it stayed that way, even if it hurt you. However, he couldn't lie.

You always looked your best when you knew your worth.

It wasn't just your routine that changed, you became cold to your old friends, dropping the Muggle borns and staying weary of the half bloods. You started to associate mainly with more influential Purebloods.

That meant him.

He knew his father was good for something.

“Crouch? Would you like to accompany me to the library?” Your voice sang out to him, despite your listless monotone and drifting eyes. It was the first sentence you muttered to him in 13 months. Your voice was more reserved, your back straightened and your lips pouted. You didn't look like that 12 year old he knew, you were 16 now. Even in his depravity, he took notice of every lovely advancement you had taken in care of your appearance. Your mother instructed you with glamours and proper wear, even now wearing a black feathered choker and brandished a black quill. A family heirloom, Regulus would tell him.

Now, he hated your mother, there was no question about that. What she had done to Regulus was unforgivable, what she had done to you was cause for retaliation in his eyes. But Merlin, did she put you back on the path of greatness.

“Crouch? {Y/N}, my love, it will always be Barty to you.” He lit up like a child, voice sugary sweet. It was your turn to take notice of his change. He was still the same boy you met in first year. Endlessly obsessive, devoted, and excelling at all the things you liked about him. Unfortunately, also the things you hated.

But, he was still your Barty in your heart. The boy you loved, the boy you cherished, the boy who charmed your soul in ways you didn't know possible. If you had to pick anyone to fill the hollowed out ache in your chest, you chose dangerously, Barty Crouch Jr would be your reprieve.

He was just older now. He was becoming a man.

Everyone knows what they say, about a boy and a girl, coming into their own together. Barty figured this was your love story, you weren't one to argue any longer.

He didn't care that you only seemed to speak to him out of necessity. When he heard from Regulus that your mother was making you pick your friends based on their social standing, any males to soon be a suitor, he was ecstatic.

He was remarkable. He was seen. He was valuable enough to you to not be a mere pawn but maybe even a queen on your chest set. To be used by you? It was worth every moment of the ache. All of this because his father just so happened to keep his filthy hands to the purest bloodlines.

That was his value to you. His blood, his sweat, his labor, and his mind. They were yours, no questions asked. He clung to your heel with new found determination. He would keep you on the right track, the promised one. The one that would ensure your children had the same opportunities.

He knew he wanted this the moment he walked in on you and Severus arguing in the courtyard.

“You dare call her a Mudblood, you incessant pompous Half Breed?!” Your voice echoed through the halls. People watched in horror, some in absolute shock, the sweet kind girl they had grown attached to was a right monster now. Barty, however, was loving it. You were a proper pureblood.

“{Y/N}-” Severus spoke carefully, something about his tone was far too familiar for Barty’s liking, him addressing you by first name made his jaw tighten. He didn't have to say a word. You rectified it.

“Do not address me as anything other than Black, you dirty mutt!” You screeched. Severus looked stunned, the usually stoic boy looked broken. Barty watched as your eyes trailed over a shocked and watery eyed Lily Evans, he almost didn't catch you muttering, “You lost that privilege.”

He, of course, came to your rescue, as he always promised. Hand around your back and escorted you away from the fight. As you both walked down the corridor your path was blocked.

Barty almost laughed, Remus Lupin. He was standing with Sirius Black, both staring threatening daggers at Barty. When you both kept walking, Barty shoved a path between the two boys, you hand a fistful of his cloak so as to not be left behind.

He didn't like how Remus’s eyes softened at the sight of you. He didn't like how Sirius reached for you. He walked faster, putting your sniffling form in front of himself.

After that, he knew he had you.

You were becoming who you were meant to be.

~~~

He took his mark that summer, standing alongside your brother Regulus Black, Lucius Malfoy, Beatrix Black and Evan Rosier. They were at your cousin’s manor, in the ballroom standing side by side. He was as straight as a board, brimming with pride, smirking to himself and brandishing his left arm.

He could feel your eyes on him, from where you stood, next to Narcissa, your aunt and your mother. Waiting for him.

Evan was first, standing beside Barty and holding out his wrist. When the wand hovered over his wrist and the Death Eater began to mutter the incantation, Evan let out a blood curdling sound. Pure brutish pain shot through him, leading him to fall back. Quickly held up by two other death eaters behind him.

When the wand brushed Barty’s wrist next, he hardly flinched. Tilting his head back as sweat gathered around his temple and neck. He bit his lip and let himself feel every sharp intrusion the spell took, letting himself succumb to the blissful pain.

When he returned to you, not standing to wait for dismissal like the rest of them, he wrapped his arm around your waist and yanked you in. He stole your lips for his own, making you give a slight gasp. You don't fight it, so he pushed further, letting himself taste your bottom lip and pulling it punishingly between his teeth. Through his high he was able to recognize and memorize the feel of your lips and the taste, in his mind, it was the closest to the gods he'd ever get. What was true heaven, however, was when you took his cheeks in your hands and kissed him back.

“Enough.” He heard your mother hiss from beside you. She shooed Barty away like he was some stray dog. He backed down from where you stood, licking his lips and admiring just how shaken and red you looked. Your mother, the hag, pushed you behind herself and hid you away from his eyes.

When you looked away and covered your mouth, he almost didn't notice how you also licked your lips clean. That drove him mad.

He had come to the conclusion early on, you were a temptress. A vixen. A damned Siren as far as he knew.

Memories of that night, your first kiss, the moment he could see you falling for him. A proper man, worthy of the worship he planned to give you. Worthy of serving a goddess like you. It kept him up most nights, it was a high even the dementor's couldn't take away, but they did manage to warp his obsession from what he believed to have been holy, to the truth.

He was brought on this earth for you. Without you, he was nothing. He was rotting.

{. 1976 Barty’s Year 6 .}

The next year he took your hand and promised you the world. To his delight, you responded in kind. You began dating his sixth year and it was absolute bliss.

It didn't last long, that bliss. It became a thrill.

Despite his power and loyalty to the dark lord, your mother favored another's for your hand. Particularly, Avery. His father came to your mother with the proposal, your mother liked his offer of the estate and your own power over the house.

You, however, much to Barty’s delight, were way too far gone. In your now secret meetings, where you would take you strolls along the city street, to the shop or to the boutique. You made a show of it; but you only truly left for Crouch Manor.

Where Mr. and Mrs. Crouch turned their other cheek as you snuck your way to Barty’s chambers. Behind those locked doors your love was dangerous. His whispers and promises of treachery against your family name were met with nothing less than desperate devotion and promises in kind. As your palms glided over his bare chest and his large hands found their way under your skirt.

His favorite memories were all locked away in that room. The room he made you his own, where his hands grew familiar with your skin in ways no one else ever could, where he found an affinity for you breathless, and where he heard you let out sounds no self respecting Black heiress should ever let out.

He claimed what was his birthright, between your legs. Bruised your lips numb and left marks you had to charm away when you made it back home. Just in time for supper.

With the feeling of him still fresh on your body. The pureblood heir your parents thought so lowly of. The heir they didn't see fit to sit at that very table, was still there. His lips were on the rim of the cup you sipped from, his hands were on the arm rests you relaxed against, and his teeth and claws were buried into their perfect daughter.

{. 1978 .}

By the time you both graduated, you took your place at the table. Having fought to hold off your engagement to Avery, Barty took it into his own hands to get between the two of you. Every time you glance in the boy's direction, he shrivels in on himself.

“Barty?” You whispered between his greedy kisses, in the halls of the Malfoy manor. The only times his hands could find your hips and his lips could find yours outside of his own room now. He was starting to see less and less of you. The war was in full swing and with his desperation for you was all that was driving him most days.

Thinking now, he wondered what drove you. Even now, having spent a year in Azkaban, you were still the light he flew to, no matter how much it hurt him. He could have sworn, at one time, it was him.

“Darling.” He whispered low against your lips. You tangled your fingers into his hair, before pulling him down. He rested his chin against the curve of your chest and looked up into your eyes.

You bit your lip, running your thumb along his own reddening ones. “Do you love me, Barty?” You cooed.

“I do.” He affirmed, licking the skin you touched along his Cupid's bow, “I do, more than anything.” His voice was raw and rough, he pulled at your hold, trying desperately to kiss you again.

“Do something for me, Barty.”

“Anything, Darling. Anything.” He muttered, eyes still on your lips.

“Be within my reach. Always.” You whispered before releasing him. He took your lips once more, pushing you back against the wall like the very prospect of not touching you in some way was physically painful. His hand traveled up from your hand to rub over the mark you took just days earlier.

Every moment like that seemed fleeting.

The very next year, Regulus Black passed. He had gone MIA and your mother, despite her loyalty to Voldemort, commanded you home. It got worse when they officially announced his death.

You stayed locked in those walls, by order of your mother. He missed you dearly. Barty never wanted to be your hero, some great commander, he couldn't care less now about who else even knew his name anymore. He was older now, and he just wanted to be yours.

So, it pushed Barty to work even harder. Anything to appease The Dark Lord, get this war over with, so he could return to the only true person worthy of his reverence.

Without you, his life went by in simple clips of reality. When Voldemort fell, he was imprisoned in this hellhole, and even now, he found himself unable to let anything else consume his mind.

The dripping of water from the rusting metal doors drove him mad. No other sounds but the miserable screams of inmates and slamming of bodies against pavement. It was a torturous and hopeless place, some people preferred punishment by their own hands. There was suddenly a loud clanging of keys that cut his thoughts.

He looked up from the corner of his cell, putting his thumb in his mouth and sucking on the bleeding torn skin. The marks he had made on the cell walls marked his 354th day in this nightmare. His eyes locked with his father and his mother, furrowing his brow as he stood.

His mother two out two veils of a slug colored potion, his father had another potion in his hand.

Barty didn't stay in that cell to see his 355th.

~~~

{. 1994 POV Shift .}

“It's a bit cold, don't you think?”

Remus Lupin's voice cut through the fog of your mind like a knife through butter. He was right, of course. Even as the year grew warmer with the summer months growing closer, the astronomy tower always gave a pleasant and persistent chill.

You were used to it, by now. Being the Astronomy Professor for almost twelve years. About the same amount of years you managed to avoid coming into contact with Remus himself.

You had to give him credit, Remus Lupin, he was persistent. Doing everything in his power to get you alone. As if one conversation would melt away years of what you had done, the people you deceived, the lives you took, the lies you told… all in the name of a crazed boy long lost to the history of the wizarding world. For the family who was as faded as the family tree you used to tend to with your brothers, painting names and burning faces.

As if speaking to you would somehow bridge a gap. A gap in his heart that still ached for you. It was never something he was able to understand, your persistent and endless love for Crouch had come out of nowhere for him. He couldn't look Sirius in the eye for a long time, learning he had outed your budding relationship.

He took every chance he could, to reach out, to speak to you, it was met with closed doors and a reminder of remaining professional.

“It is. Heading out, Lupin?” You muttered to him. You couldn't lie and say having him here didn't make you feel, in some ways, nostalgic. To the loving, caring, respectful girl you once knew. One with so much patience and kindness you shared it with all kinds of souls. Souls you've watched drop like flies under the man you swore your life to.

“I am.” Remus muttered but didn't turn to leave. You shifted on your heel to look back at him from the entrance of the tower. He had his hand resting on the railing, his palm thudding against the railing as he tried to gather the courage to continue.

“I heard you gave Snape quite the earful.” He hummed, walking deeper into your classroom. You thinned your lips and shook your head, turning away from him. He gave a weak scoff.

“Could you at least look at me?” He pushed, his voice wavering. You closed your eyes and gave a deep sigh. Your hands moved to grab the railing.

“What is it, Lupin?”

“It's not too late.” He whispered and you closed your eyes. His words were exact, aimed to cut deep and retrieve from you the heart he knew was there; it just had grown cold. “You could come back. With me, tonight, we can meet with Padfoot and-”

“And what, Lupin?” You spoke calmly as you turned to face him. He went rigid at your stare. “Live this wonderful life you have weaved out for us? Pretend that everything is okay and the last few years never happened?” You pushed and he closed his eyes.

Anger bubbled in his throat with something familiar, jealousy and bitter melancholy. If he could hear you any clearer you would be cotton in his ears. Your words were empty because he knew you could. Put Hogwarts behind you and come back to him, come with him and Sirius like you should have done back when you wore uniform and not cloaks like proper professors. Nothing was proper about you two aching hearts anyway.

Yet history repeated itself.

It always would.

“You know he's gone.” Remus started slowly and your breath caught in your throat. You felt your eyes grow glossy with grief and you placed your left hand over your heart.

“I never thought I would be someone's second choice. To Bartemius Crouch Jr.” He continued. “I see I never measured up, did I?”

“... I am sorry, Remus.” You whispered, your voice, for the first time in years, was vulnerable. It was careful.

Because of course you loved Remus. You loved him dearly, but no man would own you like Barty had. You were terrified to let yourself be loved with anything less than what he had shown you. Steadfast and faithful love. No one could challenge the status of Barty in your life.

Even in death his ghost reminds you of your place. Next to him.

Once this was over, once Dumbledore had seen and used his worth in you, when you were no longer under his wing like a servant, you would go back to 12 Grimmauld Place. You would retire. And you would wait for Barty to take you back home. Let it be a year, let it be ten, you would return to him as promised.

“... What have you become?” He whispered to you, and your eyes finally raised to meet him. You caught your tears and quickly cleaned your face. Shaking your head you put back on your practiced and perfect pout.

“.. A Black.”

Your exchange ended there.

Remus returned to your brother, you presumed. You forged ignorance when you were questioned by the Ministry of your brother’s whereabouts. It didn't take much for them to let you be, especially with Mr. Crouch Senior’s particular protectiveness of you. Probably a gift from Mrs. Crouch, oh, how you missed her.

When Barty was taken and your mother was far too weak to control you, you visited the Crouchs’ daily. You helped Winky with taking care of his parents, particularly his sick and fragile mother. You grew a weak repore with his father, though you despised him.

As a proper pureblood you just silently reaped the benefits of what the world had gifted you.

Including your wealth. With the house of Black fallen you were left to be the soul heir. Though, the moment you heard of Sirius Black’s escape, you reopened your joint account. Soon, you heard someone was able to access it. It was true; your brother was alive and well.

That was the only olive branch you extended to him.

Once the school year was officially over you returned home. To your modest house down in an old town just a broom ride away from Hogwarts. Feldcroft.

You returned home, it was uneventful. Until you opened your door.

You were greeted by Winky, the Crouch’s house elf. That wouldn't be unusual, Barty had preached to her about how you were both intended. How she should attend to you, how she attended to him. So she would appear at your house from time to time, with gifts and food she had prepared for Crouch Senior that she made just too much of.

“Winky?” You called out to the figure in your hall. The sheepish girl turned to face you with a careful smile.

“Madam Black has returned! How happy Winky is to see you, mistress.” She declared and hurried up to you. Her path was cut short as Creature stepped in front of her, snapping away your bags. He seemed in a foul mood. Fowler then usual.

“Your mother would not approve of your company, Ms. Blaaaack.” He warned and you furrowed your brow. “Nor would she approve of this home-”

“Kreature.” You demanded and he huffed. Winky was always coming in and out, Creature never voiced displeasure with her company and your mother, well, she could care less. “What company?”

“The noisy Crouch, Ma'am.”

Your heart dropped. He apparated away, assumingly to unpack your bags. Your eyes widened as Winky appeared in front of your full view. Showing off the black quill you had most definitely left at home. Your mothers old quill. You took it carefully from the house elf.

“Winky..” You spoke carefully and slowly. Holding up the quill between your fingers. “Who gave this to you?”

“I think you know, Darling.”

Before Winky could answer, a voice lost to time spoke first. You knew it before you even turned around.

Still, you jerked your entire body to face him. Your eyes locked, full of longing and hope.

And there he was. Your Barty.

He was holding a newspaper, licking his bottom lip but his eyes were on you. His eyes were just how you always remembered them. So full of danger and appreciation for your simple presence. He stepped towards you and you took a step back. He tsked at that, reaching out to grab your waist. “Darling..” He whispered.

You were still in shock. Staring up at his brown eyes and waiting. For anything. “Barty?” You whispered.

When he kissed you, alarm bells went off in your head. You didn't listen to any of them, grabbing him just as greedily as he held you. Both of your eyes closed and you held each other like you might perspire.

He was home.

He truly was.

64 notes · View notes

vitalverstappen · 3 days

Text

How Do I Do This? - D. Ricciardo

summary: after a public divorce with your ex-husband (not danny), you found yourself learning to try again

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x famous!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce, drinking, swearing

word count: 1.1k

The divorce was messy. There were disputes over literally everything: who got what, how much money both of you got, who kept the dog. And it didn’t help that the media got a whiff of what was happening. Your failing marriage was plastered on every single outlet.

It was for the best that you hid away from the public for a while. The pieces of you had shattered on the floor, and you needed the time to put yourself back together.

A few months later, you slowly began putting yourself back in the public eye. Small trips to the coffee shop, out to lunch with some friends, or a smaller awards show.

During this outing, you found yourself out to lunch with your childhood best friend, Kelly. She had been there through the thick and thin of your marriage, and the resulting divorce. There was nothing about your life that she didn’t know.

She knew so well that she could tell you were healed, and truth be told, you were. So it was no surprise when a mischievous grin formed on her face.

“What’s that look for?” You asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be

“Soooo” Kelly started “There’s this guy I know. A good friend of mine.”

“Wow, you have friends other than me. I’m hurt” You joked as you took a sip of your drink. It was obvious what she was hinting at.

“Yeah, believe it or not” She laughed “But I think they’re your type y/n. His name is Daniel.”

Kelly flipped her phone around to show you a picture of the man. Dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a charming smile. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your type.

Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your arms. It had been years since you dated. And honestly, it terrified you having to have a conversation about someone’s favorite color again. It terrified you to have articles written about you again.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” You admitted “I can’t even remember what it’s like going on a first date. My last one was back when I was 22.”

“Oh come on, y/n. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just one date to test the waters. Get yourself back out there.” Kelly explained, “It can be in secret so the tabloids don’t write anything.”

She was right. The date didn’t have to go anywhere. You could meet the guy, say you weren’t feeling it, and leave it at that. No attachments, no tabloids.

“Fine,” You sighed, defeated. “Send the guy my number. I am not making the first move.”

You had honestly forgotten about the conversation with your friend. Days had passed and you hadn’t gotten a text from a new number. He probably didn’t want to text you. Or your agent had seen the text and thought it was spam.

That is until one fateful night, your phone buzzed.

Unknown: Hey y/n it’s Daniel. Kelly gave me your number

Amused, you picked up your phone. It took him long enough to get the confidence to text you.

You: Hey Daniel. I was starting to think Kelly forgot to lol

Only a few moments passed before your phone buzzed again. Another text from Daniel.

Daniel: Lol that’s pretty much what happened. How’s your night going?

The two of you engaged in a bit of small talk over text. It was only a matter of time before he pulled the trigger on asking you out.

Daniel: So I was wondering, are you free Saturday? I know a spot we could go - away from everything.

Your fingers danced around your keyboard until you finally found a reply.

You: Yeah I am!

After rereading the text, you quickly deleted your response. It was just a little too desperate.

You: Yup, I think so

Again, you found yourself deleting the message. This time, too nonchalant. At least twenty different replies had to have been typed out before you finally gave up and responded with something simple and straight to the point.

You: Yes

Immediately, you put your phone down, needing to connect back to your world. It was hard to fathom that you were back in the dating scene. Never did you think you would be back starting at square one.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing once again.

Daniel: Great! I’ll pick you up at 7

And that’s how you found yourself panicking in your room Saturday evening. An excitement rushed through you that you hadn’t felt in years. It was like your teenage self was coming back to life. You and Daniel had texted off and on leading up, but today was the big day.

Hours were spent digging through your extensive closet. Nothing that you had picked out seemed to be just right. Eventually, you landed on a little black dress that you hadn’t worn in years.

Panic flooded your thoughts the entire time you got ready. What if you said something stupid? What if he brought up your divorce? What if it actually goes well?

Your thoughts were cut short when you read the clock: 6:52pm. Eight minutes left.

You did the only thing you knew would calm your senses. Phone in hand, you called Kelly. One ring was all it took before her face showed up on your screen.

“Hey girl! You look hot!” She said as she picked up.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up” You admitted “I don’t know if I can do this”

“Y/n, yes you can. It’s just a few hours of your life. Daniel’s a sweet guy-”

“Would it be wrong if I took a shot?” You blurted out, eyes on the bottle of vodka that stood on your kitchen counter.

Through the phone, Kelly stifled a laugh. “I don’t think you need to, Danny’s an easy guy to talk to. But if you think it’ll help, be my guest.”

Without a second thought, you twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a swig. The liquor burned your throat as you drank, but it was the reality check you needed. You were human, he was human. You’re going to be fine.

“Better?” Kelly asked as you gagged

Once you collected yourself, you said, “Better. I gotta go Kels. He should be picking me up any second.” As if on cue, you heard your doorbell ring. “Coming!”

After one last quick look in the mirror, you found yourself at your door. Daniel was on the other side. This was it. One last inhale, then you opened the door.

“Hey” Was all you were able to get out. Kelly had shown you photos of Daniel, but none of those could compare to how he looked standing in front of you.

“Hi” He replied in the same breathy tone you had used only moments prior. A smile spread across his face. “You look amazing”

“So do you”

Daniel reached out his hand, “M’lady, shall we?”

Your lips parted into a smile as well as you laced your fingers into his, “We shall”

115 notes · View notes

gilbertscurls · 3 days

Text

Classroom Competition ➵ Matt Sturniolo

synopsis: two rival English teachers, you and Matt, challenge each other to an end-of-year competition to see whose class will come out on top.

You stood at the front of your classroom, flipping through the stack of essays your students had turned in earlier that week. The air was thick with the smell of freshly sharpened pencils and the quiet hum of focused minds. Your students were finishing a timed writing exercise, and you could already tell from the intensity in their eyes that they were giving it their all.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Your class was doing great this semester. They were engaged, improving their writing skills daily, and, most importantly, they were enjoying the material. You had spent weeks perfecting your lesson plans, making sure they were creative and challenging. But in the back of your mind, there was always one nagging thought.

Matthew.

Your fellow English teacher—and academic rival.

Victoria had been teaching at Somerville High for two years now, and ever since you and Matt had both started in the same semester, a silent, unspoken competition had brewed between you. You both taught sophomore English, and though you never directly confronted each other about it, there was a clear rivalry between you to see who could get the highest test scores, who could make reading Shakespeare fun, and who could inspire their students the most.

It wasn’t that Matt was a bad teacher. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was too good. Charismatic, engaging, and with an ability to make even the most mundane literature seem exciting, he was loved by students and teachers alike. His reputation for getting the highest standardized test scores among his classes wasn’t lost on you either.

But you weren’t about to let him overshadow you.

The bell rang, and your students handed in their essays on the way out. You were just gathering your things when the door to your classroom swung open. Speak of the devil.

“Y/N,” Matt greeted you with a casual smirk, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You busy?”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. “What do you want, Matt?”

“I just thought I’d swing by and see how your class is doing,” he said, his voice smooth. “You know, make sure everything’s running smoothly on this side of the English department.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up the stack of essays. “My class is doing just fine, thank you.”

“Of course they are,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. He glanced around, taking in your meticulously organized classroom. “I’m sure you’re drilling those essays into them like always.”

You bristled at the jab but kept your tone light. “Maybe, but at least my students know how to structure an argument properly. I’ve heard yours are still struggling with thesis statements.”

Matt chuckled, clearly not offended. “Oh, they’ve got it down. But I prefer to focus on more… Creative approaches to writing. You know, things that get students to think outside the box.”

“Right,” you said, leaning back against your desk. “And that’s why your students are always scrambling the day before exams, right?”

He shot you a look, but his smile never wavered. “Hey, it works for them.”

You had this same back-and-forth at least once a week. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but there was definitely an underlying tension in your conversations. And today, you were determined to win this round.

“Speaking of exams,” you said casually, “did you see the test scores from last week’s assessment?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “I did. Pretty solid across the board. How about yours?”

You grinned. “Best in the department.”

For the first time, Matt’s smirk faltered just slightly, and it was all the satisfaction you needed.

“Congrats,” he said, a little less cocky now. “Guess I’ll have to step up my game.”

“Guess so,” you said sweetly.

He crossed his arms, clearly not ready to back down entirely. “Well, if we’re being competitive, how about we up the stakes?”

You eyed him warily. “What kind of stakes?”

“An end-of-year competition,” he suggested, leaning against one of the student desks. “Your class versus mine. Whoever gets the highest overall grade average wins.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly does the winner get?”

Matt thought for a moment, then his grin returned. “Bragging rights. For the whole summer. And…” he paused for dramatic effect, “the loser has to buy the winner coffee every morning for a week.”

You crossed your arms, biting your lip as you considered the offer. It was a ridiculous bet, but there was something thrilling about it. And if you were being honest with yourself, you liked the competition with Matt. It kept you on your toes, made you push yourself harder. Plus, the thought of beating him, once and for all, was too tempting to resist.

“Deal,” you said, stepping forward and offering your hand.

Matt’s smile widened as he took it. “Deal.”

The rest of the semester flew by, and true to your word, both you and Matt ramped up your efforts to make your classes the best they could be. You spent countless hours refining your lesson plans, coming up with creative writing prompts, and working one-on-one with students who needed extra help. You weren’t just teaching to win the bet—you genuinely cared about your students’ success—but knowing that you had a competition with Matt made you push even harder.

On the other side of the hallway, Matt was doing the same. He organized debate competitions, hosted creative writing workshops, and even incorporated poetry slams into his curriculum. His students adored him, and he had a way of making literature come alive in a way that was different from your more structured approach.

By the time the end of the year rolled around, both teachers were anxiously awaiting the results. Final grades were submitted, and the last week of classes was a blur of goodbyes and final projects.

You were standing in the teacher’s lounge, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for the principal to post the final grade averages. Matt stood beside you, leaning casually against the wall, looking far too relaxed for your liking.

“Nervous?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“Not at all,” you lied, crossing your arms. “Just ready to win.”

Matt chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

The principal finally walked in, holding the final grade reports. She posted the averages for each class on the board, and you felt your heart race as you scanned the numbers. Your class had done incredibly well, but so had Matt’s.

It was close. Really close.

In the end, Matt’s class edged yours out by a mere half a percentage point.

You let out a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms as Matt grinned triumphantly beside you.

“Looks like I’ll be expecting that coffee next week,” he said, his tone dripping with smugness.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Matt chuckled, stepping closer, his voice softening just a little. “You know, this whole rivalry thing—it’s fun.”

You glanced up at him, your heart doing an unexpected little flip. “Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, you stood there, the usual tension between you shifting into something else—something that felt less like competition and more like connection.

“So, what’s next?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Matt grinned. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if this competition of yours was just beginning—only now, the stakes felt a little higher.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

83 notes · View notes

city-of-ladies · 2 days

Text

"I learn that the orphanage was created in part because illegitimate babies were being drowned in the Venetian canals. I learn that the girls of the the Ospedale della Pietà were allowed to play instruments usually reserved for men; that they earned money for their performances and rubbed shoulders with kings and queens. “What makes the Pietà so famous,” wrote the Prince of Saxony, Frederick Christian, after seeing them play in 1704, “is not just that all of the instrumentalists are truly excellent musicians, but … that all of the instruments are being played by females without any males in the ensemble at all.”

I discover that Vivaldi spent almost his entire career working at the Pietà and composed most of his pieces while there. But of the hundreds of girls and women who studied there, one name keeps rising to the surface: Anna Maria della Pietà. A prodigy violinist, she was Vivaldi’s favourite student. He composed many pieces just for her. It was in this experimental environment, with a plethora of talented female musicians to test ideas with, and Anna Maria by his side, that Vivaldi was able to perfect a whole new form of music: the concerto, most famously realised in his Four Seasons.

I learn that several of the orphans at the Pietà were composers in their own right, in addition to many being copyists. In the study Women and Music, researchers Yves Bessieres and Patricia Niedzwiecki describe the Pietà as a “nursery for the virtuosos who provided Vivaldi with his ‘musical material’”. They cite a letter from a Pietà student called Lavinia and write, “[Lavinia’s] cantatas, concertos and various works had to be composed in secret and in imitation of Vivaldi’s style.” But Lavinia wanted to compose her own pieces too. “The music of others is like words addressed to me; I must answer and hear the sound of my own voice,” Lavinia wrote. “And the more I hear that voice, the more I realise that the songs and sounds which are mine are different … Woe betide me should they find out.”

I speak with another scholar, Vanessa Tonelli, a leading expert on the female musicians of Venice. Is it possible that these girls helped Vivaldi compose his works? “Anna Maria certainly designed her own solo cadenzas for Vivaldi’s concertos,” she tells me. She explains that some partbooks that belonged to the girl musicians still exist, and that there are examples within these of notes and solo lines scribbled into the margins. “Musicians often improvised cadenzas, ornamentations, and other solo lines, and they occasionally jotted down their ideas for these improvisations.”"

#history #women in history #Ospedale della Pietà #Anna Maria della Pietà #18th century #antonio vivaldi #composers #female composers #classical music #venice #italy #italian history #women's history

56 notes · View notes

a-star-that-burns-brightly · 2 days

Text

CH2-13 Thoughts + CH2-14 Predictions

Hello DRDT Fandom! CH2-13 came out about four or so days ago as I'm posting this, and I finally mustered up the energy and mental strength to write down my overall thoughts, and also general predictions for what I think is to come in the next episode. A lot happened in this episode and we have a lot to cover, so let's get started! Before we do though, I think I should give us a reminder of where we currently are in terms of the swear chart and the bingo card, as of CH2-12 Swear Statistics

Bingo Card

Just like the last post, I'll be separating my talking points into character categories, so let's jump straight in with the big man himself...

Levi

Quick Disclaimer: I myself am still trying to unlearn the mindset that having low or no empathy is in any way a moral failing. If I say anything wrong or rude, please politely correct me. Remember kids: Your feelings, thoughts, and emotions, what you feel and how you feel them if you do at all, do not have any moral weight, they are simply aspects of your brain and you cannot control your brain. The only thing that has moral weight is your actions.

So as we learned in the previous episode, Levi has the murderer secret! And as we learn in this episode, he apparently killed four people, one of which being his father. DRDT continues to take Danganronpa's standard tropes and incorporating them in unique ways, in this case Levi represents the trope of the Chapter 2 Serial Killer reveal (Genocide Jack, Peko, Maki). I love that DRDT keeps doing this and I hope it keeps it up You know what else is staying consistent, though?

(x) Levi: That incident happened when I was in my junior year of high school. Levi: My junior year was also the year that Hope's Peak scouted me as the Ultimate Personal Stylist. Levi: To my understanding, it would've reflected poorly on Hope's Peak to recruit a murderer, so they pressured the court into not pressing charges.

US-HPA being morally corrupt as all fuck, that's what! Like no, seriously, it makes more and more sense as for why Xander David and Mai were most likely forming a revolution against this damn place, cause wow. The choice to scout out Levi during his Junior Year, when he was still in high school, is...interesting. Given that this Hope's Peak takes in College-aged students, why not just wait until Levi has graduated high school? In fact, that probably would've been even better because by then Levi definitely would've perfected his skills in styling by then, and thus would further justify him being enrolled in the academy. We don't know whether or not Levi was scouted before or after his incident, but given how Levi explains the events, I'm willing to bet this was after. Which...makes thing especially strange. But I'm sure it's no big deal. I mean, it's not like we have any evidence of US-HPA preying on vulnerable childre--

(x) Min: The Ultimate Contest for Eminent Students was made for a very specific target audience. Min: Those children who had no talents, who would consider spending their entire lives preparing for one single test for even a chance to become an Ultimate...

Oh. Well isn't that funny, huh?

Part of Hope's Peak's branding in general is the promise of a better future, which is something that Levi clearly wants. So I can most definitely see why the idea of being enrolled in the academy appealed to him. Levi being a delinquent in his teenage years definitely tracks, given how we know that his family was full of bad influences (including himself more than likely). And I am absolutely not surprised that Levi ended up killing his father. I think a lot of us theorized for a while that the person he killed was linked to his family.

I'd absolutely adore to learn more about Levi's family situation and what exactly their relationship with each other was, because "We were bad influences on each other" can mean a lot of things. Given the fact that not even the police cared about the death of Levi's father, I'd be pretty willing to believe that Mr. Fontana is a wanted man who has done a lot of criminal harm to others. That might even be where Levi formed the mindset that people are defined by their actions. Maybe, that's my best guess and it doesn't even include his mother and brothers, lmao. Anyway, that's enough of Murder, Corruption, and Daddy Issues. Let's talk about the other thing that was revealed about Levi this episode, or more-so put into words. His low, if zero empathy. Firstly, those who are headcannoning Levi is ASPD, I see you and I love you. So much. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that my first thought upon watching this scene was "Levi is so Autismcoded" lmao But in all seriousness, I absolutely adore this side of his character. In general something I've always loved about Levi is the fact that he, to put it bluntly, does not know how to act. He's constantly seeing what others do and copying them, and asking them for guidance when he doesn't know what to do. His first appearance shows him using Xander and Teruko's appearances to wager what kind of person they are, which is more than likely how he got into styling in the first place. He's basically masking and trying to appear as what he views as normal because he's aware that his lack of empathy is not something most humans possess. And his actions reflect that of what he thinks a good person would do in these scenarios, whether that be your friends not inviting you to an event, or someone profusely bleeding from their neck. To put it in simple terms: He's masking. I love that. It really reminds me of the experiences had by my neurodivergent friends, and even though Levi is not canonically neurodivergent, the fact that so many people headcannon him with ASPD or Autism really goes to show how DT-Dev nailed that kind of experience, and how well they wrote Levi's low empathy in general. Well-done, DT-Dev :D ...Also I think it's safe to say that Accomplice!Levi is not happening. Damn it, I really liked that theory lmao.

Ace

[not even three minutes later]

...See, this is why I always believed Ace was telling the truth about David and Arei's conversation, because wow this man is competing with the former in the Shitty Liar Olympics.

If Ace's sense of security around Levi wasn't already shattered, it sure as hell is now. Which is very upsetting to see, but also very entertaining to me as an aficionado of toxic yaoi. I was never really an Acevi girl, it was just never something I was attracted to (probably because for a majority of CH2 Part 1's airing I really didn't like Ace lmao), but this combined with the Other Thing I'll talk about later has definitely sold me on it. I hope they get worse.

I can't remember what post it was, but I remember seeing someone talk about Ace very much projecting a friendship onto Levi that was never really there between them, and looking back, I absolutely agree. I mean, where the two of them really friends? I do think that Levi does, or did, genuinely like Ace. I don't think he would've been hanging around him in Chapter 1 if he didn't. But it was simply just that, he liked Ace. Ace loved Levi, and saw him as his lifeboat in the midst of this scary unfamiliar situation. Even if everyone else either was annoyed by or straight-up disliked Ace, even if he could die at any moment, he could still rely on Levi as a presence of safety and security, but that all came crumbling down.

ace can you please change your sprite

The fact that Ace, the man famous for jumping to conclusions, not thinking anything through or in depth, and switching his opinions on others on a dime, is even asking for Levi's defense at all, is proof enough to me that even after everything Ace still wanted to cling onto the fantasy of their friendship he had built up in his mind. But upon hearing that Levi never cared about what happened to him, he can no longer do so. ...And why do I think Ace got attached to Levi so quickly?

(x) Ace: I was totally right all along to burn our friendship--No, I can't even call it it "Friendship." Ace: There's only one person in my whole life who I've ever been able to call my friend. That I ever thought, even for just a short time, that you and I were "friends" is an insult to his memory.

Yeah it's time to talk about this.

So for those who are not in the know, DT-Dev confirmed in a now-deleted ask that this friend of Ace's is named Taylor Riley.

(thank you to @/nicohakobyan / weightedblankett on twitter for providing this screenshot)

We know very little about this man other than his name, his gender, the fact that he was Ace's friend, and that he's dead. We don't actually know that fourth one, but I think "insult to his memory" speaks for itself lmao. As such, we do not know the details of his relationship with Ace... But I've made more out of less before, so let's get to talking. Here's what I think:

I think that Taylor was a presence in Ace's life much similar to how Levi was to him in Chapter 1: A strong protective figure that helped to make the scared-of-everything Ace feel a sense of safety. And then some form of incident happened that resulted in Taylor's death, leaving Ace alone, heartbroken, bitter, and terrified. That sense of security he once had was ripped away from him, and without Taylor, he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

And then in the killing game, he meets Levi, who provides him with a similar feeling of safety. Immediately he begins to project the memory of Taylor onto Levi and as such becomes attached, quickly considering Levi a friend because of it. And I'm not entirely pulling this idea that Ace was projecting Taylor onto Levi out of my ass, either.

Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning)

When we first got this answer, most people assumed this was referring to Levi, but I honestly think it is more likely that this is referring to Taylor. But those colors are still part of Levi's design, which automatically sets up a parallel between both Levi and Taylor Ace projected his relationship and the memory of Taylor onto a man he barely knew, and when that man lost his patience with him, his fantasy was swiftly kicked with the steel-toed shoe of reality. Hell, Ace's reaction after Levi snapped at him may had been due to his illusion of safety crumbling beneath him, but going down the road of this theory, Levi snapping at him might've been the first time Ace truly saw Levi and not Taylor. He had been giving this man a script and a role to play, and Levi responded by tearing up the paper and telling him to fuck off. In a sense, you could say that in that moment, Ace lost Taylor a second time.

Since I don't think Ace is going to be the killer as he was knocked out and thus did not have any knowledge of the murder mechanism (at least not including the theory that he tried to kill himself, which... Is a possibility, but I don't think that's the case). And if he does live past his chapter, I honestly think Chapter 3 will mark his breaking point. Any fantasy of Levi that he was clinging onto with his pinky has now shattered into pieces ten times over, the person who tried to kill him is still alive and for all he knows, could do it again whenever the hell they want to and people will take their side over his own. Next to no one in the cast likes him and they make that explicitly clear, and worse of all, he will still be trapped in this godforsaken...whatever facility this place is meant to be. So to cap off this section that got way too long, Ace Trauma Dump is on my Chapter 3 bingo card, and if we get to see Taylor and his design includes dark blue and purple I will actually become spaghettified. Please survive Ace, you are finally starting to become not C-Tier

Hu and Veronika

Lumping these two together because I have about the same amount to say about both of them and their secrets were revealed together. Hu's secret is the Hopeless Child one, and Veronika's is the Self Harm one. I think after CH2 Part 1 most of us predicted as such, but it's still very satisfying to be right. What I'm more interested is this supposed pact that they made off-screen. I have to assume that Veronika went to Hu pretty quickly to reveal her secret to her given her general disinterest in topics of suicide and self harm. So I'd wager this pact was probably made at around CH2-5. Not that that really tells us much about the actual conversation, but it's nice to have a time-frame for reference.

I don't expect the actual conversation to be shown because from what we currently have it doesn't really add much of anything, but it would definitely be cool.

(x) Hu: I've been quite selfish this whole time, keeping my secret because I didn't want you all to think less of me...

I've said this before in this post, but I absolutely believe that David eventually coaxed and pressured Hu into revealing her secret to him, as well as why she kept it for so long. And I also think David implanted, or I guess more accurately watered the seed in Hu's head that she was inherently selfish for not sharing her secret. That, I think we would benefit from a flashback, but maybe I'm just biased because I desperately want Hu lore. Please DT-Dev, I'm on my knees Hmm... what else?

(x) Veronika: After all, my own so-called secret isn't even the worst thing I've done. Isn't that so utterly disappointing for this motive?

Oh yeah there's that. What the fuck, Veronika? Like, I feel like this is something I should've expected this, but for some reason I didn't. I'll be honest here, I really have nothing right now. But whatever Veronika is referring to here, I feel like it has something to do with her 'dearest friend' mentioned in the CH2 Q&A (who's name is Alyssa Belyaeva.) What Veronika actually did? I do not have the slightest clue, you can never know with this girl. But no matter what she did, I will probably love her even more for it. Glad that DT-Dev seems to agree with the precedence of supporting women's wrongs.

Teruko

...So I'm glad to see we're all in agreement that that is not her fucking secret. I mean, I'm sure it applies to her. She is an orphan, her parents are out of the picture, and though we don't know the whereabouts of her brother and neither does she, she most likely assumes he's dead as well. But honestly, given the fact that again this is not her fucking secret, I'm starting to wonder if that's really the case... Can Teacher Tawaki theory still live on? I'll save that for another post.

Anyway what was I talking about? Oh yeah, that is not her fucking secret.

And this little bitch knows that for a fact.

I won't go too deep into this because there have already been people discussing it better than I could, but this silent agreement the two of them have to not share Teruko's true secret is so palpable and interesting to me. David knows that Teruko's secret isn't that, but for whatever reason, he is keeping his mouth shut. And he just gives Teruko that shit-eating smirk. Have I ever mentioned how much I love Teruvid? I fucking love Teruvid. But yeah, I still think 100% that Teruko's secret is that the killing game is all her fault. It just does not make sense for Xander and Min's secrets to belong to anyone other than each other as they are dead. And in general it just makes sense for Teruko's character and her role in the story. And I can't help but feel like Teruko's actual secret will be revealed at the end of the Chapter.

Eden

... I mean. Do I really need to say more? I swear I made this exact joke in the previous thoughts post, but I can't help it. It applies perfectly to this CG. When this CG, this fucking JUMPSCARE of a CG, popped up on my screen, I'm pretty sure I ran around in a circle screaming in my room for a total of ten minutes. The first of two times I would do that during this masterfully crafted scene. I want to think of some kind of insightful analysis, but the truth is basically in your face. Eden was the one who gouged out Xander's eye. Why did she do it? Where does this fit into the overall lore? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW What the fuck am I supposed to say? This CG is basically all we have, and we'll definitely have to wait for more information. Especially since Eden is totally the culprit, but we'll get to that in the predictions section. (yeah if you can't tell my writing juice is starting to run out, but if I get this out any later than today I will kill myself)

David

(...for a scumbag, he's kinda cute.) So first of all, David is slowly becoming the funniest character in the cast in my opinion, which is a huge achievement in a cast full of very funny characters. And in general I think as a character he perfectly captures DRDT's general tone of half-and-half both silliness and angst, like yin and yang. Secondly though, the big thing that David did in this chapter (besides keeping Teruko's secret and being funny) is lying to Eden about the rest of the conversation he had with Arei. Ultimately, I think David himself saw that action as a good deed.

Think of it from his perspective: This is a man who has had hope and change presented to him on a silver platter multiple times, and then had it violently ripped away from him. And the most recent example of that, Arei, presented him with a better future and the possibility of change only to be killed upon trying to act on said change. If he told Eden that Arei still had hope, that she still wanted to change, it would aspire Eden with that same hope that in his eyes is destined to crash down on her. So instead of inflicting that same pain onto her, he instead chose to say nothing at all Maybe I'm giving David too much credit, what he did was still at the end of the day, incredibly dickish. But that interpretation is what makes the most sense to me personally. That's all I really have to say in regards to David... So, let's move onto what was, in my opinion, the star of this week's episode.

Arei

Arei Nageishi.... Ohhhh save me Arei Nageishi.... Arei was already one of my favorite characters in the cast due to her personality, design, voice acting, and most of all the character development she had throughout the course of Chapter 2. But this episode, this scene... It cemented her a well-earned spot in my top four, sitting only behind Whit, Teruko, and David.

The flashback scene of Arei and David in this episode is honestly up there with some of the best scenes in the whole show to me, almost solely because of how it caps off Arei as a character postmortem, and the story that she, along with Chapter 2 as a whole, is meant to tell. This whole chapter has been themed around the idea of what classifies a good person, and this flashback scene provides such a great payoff to that theme and it is everything I could've ever wished for. The message I got from Arei's story is that, ultimately, the idea of a "Good Person" and a "Bad Person" are nothing more than just that. Ideas. And in being ideas, they are above anything else, arbitrary, subjective, and at the end of the day, incredibly meaningless when it comes to discussing actual human beings. Insistence on categorizing yourself and the people around you into boxes of "pure saint that can do no wrong" and "irredeemable demon who will burn in the pits of hell" is a fast track to viewing a complicated, colorful world into a few shades of black and white. That's how David views the world, and has viewed the world probably for years. And I'm going to be honest and say that I think before being confronted with the truth of David's actions, Arei was heading right down the same path that he had headed.

(x) Arei: Of course I wanted to change myself. Who wants to be a grab-bag of negative personality traits? There's not even anything positive you could say about me. Arei: Still, for the longest time, I thought it was stupid to even try. I'm rotten to the core, and I might as well be a different species from saints like Eden and you. Arei: A pig never hopes to grow up into a human, because it knows that such a metamorphosis is impossible.

And this is the line that really, really makes me think that. She calls David and Eden saints because (up until this moment) she viewed both of them as the ideal of what makes a good person, similar to how David views Xander. And on the contrast, claims herself to be rotten to the core, ontologically evil with no redemption in sight. She's even performing David's habit of self-dehumanization, likening herself to a pig in the same way David likens himself to a cat in the LGI video, which goes to show how this mindset of black-and-white is, above all else, a dehumanizing view on the human race that relegates people into cardboard boxes with the flaps taped shut. If she didn't find out the truth of David's actions, I am confident that she would've done down the same path that he did, becoming convinced that she will be a terrible person until the day she dies because she cannot reach this worthless standard of a good person that she has set up in her head. But we know that's not how it goes. Arei does realize that the man she once thought of as a saint might be, in his words, a lying manipulative scumbaggy piece of shit. And upon realizing that, the second half of the message unlocks itself. There is no such thing as irredeemability.

Change is a part of being human. Humans are not built to run in a hamster wheel for the rest of their days, reliving their mistakes over and over again wallowing in their self-hatred and guilt. Eventually, they have to get off the wheel and start taking the steps necessary to grow, change, develop and flourish to properly better themselves. (This applies to yourself just as much as it applies to the worst, most depraved individual you know by the way) The alternative is living in a four-by-four black box of self-loathing and relentless stagnancy, which is not productive for the person or the people they've hurt. It is only when you reject these black-and-white categories of "Good Person" and "Bad Person" and accept that no matter what you've done, you're capable of becoming better, that you can achieve true growth and change. The way this message was executed, especially through a character that dies before the halfway point of the story, is something that I marvel at as an aspiring storyteller. DRDT's beating heart will always be its character writing, and this scene is one of the primary examples of that. Thank you, DT-Dev, for making Arei Nageishi and the rest of your amazing cast of characters. :D

Extra Thoughts !!! - FURUYA FANDOM (me) THE TRACK PLAYED LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!! - I am very excited to find out more about Nico's attempted murder given all of the questions surrounding it. If the method of murder really was replicated, and Nico wasn't the culprit themself, you guys should take a wild guess who that implicates. (this is probably obvious by this point, but I really don't believe in the theories that suggest that someone other than Nico was responsible for Ace's attempted demise, be it Hu or Ace himself. I feel like it doesn't line up with the current narrative direction that Nico seems to be going in, the physical evidence of them stealing the turpentine, and...I'm gonna be honest, I just don't like it lmao. I'm sure DT-Dev would do it well, but just as a premise I do not favor it. Nico's attempted murder + subsequent regret from it felt like such a big moment in the chapter's narrative in relation to the themes of All That Glitters and the cast revealing sides to themself that weren't as prevalent before, as well as the themes of change and moving on from the past littered all throughout the chapter. I think if Nico's attempted murder was responsible by anyone but Nico, it would just dampen the impact of their overall story for me. That's just me though.) - WE FINALLY GOT ANOTHER NONSTOP DEBATE LETS GO BOYS!!! Nonstop debates I MISSED you - "Hey why does Whit know so much about hangi--" Look. This man is so unbelievably suspicious in every single way that for the sake of my sanity, I'm just gonna assume DT-Dev chose a random character to give the hanging explanation. It is the only way I will survive this chapter - But hey, at least we got this

- As always, I adore the new sprites we got this episode, especially Ace's new ones. It's probably the first sprite of his that actually appears emotionally vulnerable when he's not bleeding profusely from the neck. And of course, I loved David's shit-eating grin towards Teruko, I hope he never changes. - Speaking of Teruko, us getting Tutor Teruko was lovely. She is perfect, she is a little bit of everything all of the time.

(x) Whit: If you're so inclined to complain, Sir Light Pollution, why don't you try and think of some good evidence? Charles: Light pollution? Whit: You know… Cuz he had stars, and now he doesn't, and light pollution makes stars disappear… or… or… something….. Charles: I am truly impressed…by how bad that was.

- I love these dorks so much. I can tell DT-Dev has a lot of fun writing them.

- Teronika Consent animation! I guess after Acevi's Soap Opera, DT-Dev decided to feed the yuri crowd as well. Love it when we get to see those little sprite animations, too.

Predictions for CH2-14 - The episode is 40 minutes long, the longest episode we have had so far. (40 minutes of DRDT content... I'm excited just thinking about it!) Because of that, I think I will just start with my biggest prediction: I think we're getting the culprit reveal this chapter. I don't think that just because of the length either. When you really look at it, we have basically used every piece of evidence at least once with the exception of three: - The conditions of the gym (which I assume will be discussed next) - The scuffs on the ground - The ball of starchy clothes All three of those pieces of evidence I think can definitely be cleared up in the span of 40 minutes, especially since full focus is now on the murder case. I don't necessarily think the trial will end in this episode, but I think we have at least one more trial episode to go before the post-trial + execution + ending of the chapter. - And as the culprit reveal is approaching, I have formulated a tier list of who I think is least - most likely to be Arei's culprit. I will provide my reasoning for each.

No. 17/16 - Xander Matthews + Min Jeung I mean, what it says on the tin. They're dead, and thus couldn't had committed the murder. No. 15/14 - MonoTV + Arei Nageishi There are explicit rules against them being the culprit. Rule 8 and Rule 11 in particular. No. 13 - Teruko Tawaki She is the protagonist. Didn't stop Kaede, but I highly doubt that's where DT-Dev is going. No. 12 - David Chiem Other than the previous five who I've all disqualified from being the culprit, David is probably the character I suspect the least. He has an alibi for the time of the murder, getting breakfast with J and Veronika, and thematically...well, he's basically being set up as the antagonist. I don't think we'll be rid of him this early lmao. No. 11 - Charles Cuevas Charles has a fear of blood and dead bodies, and though I wouldn't say that completely disqualifies him from becoming a culprit in the future, in a case like this with such a complicated mechanism like this where he'd have to be in very close proximity with the body at all times? I highly doubt it. He also has an alibi for the fish (He was with Whit). No. 10 - J Rosales J both has an alibi for the fish (Arturo following her around), and an alibi for the morning (getting breakfast with David and Veronika), and both of those alibis can be confirmed. I don't think she did this. No. 9 - Veronika Grebenshchikova I'll be honest, I really don't see Veronika committing a murder at all. She clearly wants to see this through to the end, and killing someone would come with the risk of her being executed, which I don't think she would see as a satisfying conclusion to her story. That, combined with the fact that she has an alibi for the fish (bothering Teruko) and an alibi for the murder (getting breakfast with David and J) makes me think she didn't do this. No. 8 - Nico Hakobyan You might think it's weird to place Nico this low on the overall tier-list despite them not having an alibi for the fishes, and their morning alibi being...somewhat flimsy but I'll get to that with Hu, but here's my logic. Nico was driven to attempt murder from very specific circumstances. That being, Ace's relentless bullying and abuse towards them. Nico has said before that they'd understand murder if the perpetrator didn't like the victim, and while I don't think they exactly liked Arei, I do not think they harbor the same animosity towards her as they did towards Ace. I truly believe that Nico would only ever resort to murder if they truly despised the person in question and saw no other solution. So that is why I feel comfortable placing Nico at eighth. No. 7 - Hu Jing Hu is also another character that I think some will be surprised to see so low, but I don't think this was her doing. She has an alibi for the fish (cleaning up with Eden), and though again her alibi in the morning is very flimsy (having tea with Nico in the morning,) I do believe she is telling the truth because if she was lying about her alibi, I think the brutally blunt Nico would call her out for it. I'm sorry, I just simply cannot imagine Nico letting that shit slide regardless of how many theories I read. Not to mention I can't really think of a motive for why she would kill Arei specifically when, if she really did want to kill someone, Ace is right there. No. 6 - Whit Young Whit is supremely fucking suspicious and a lot of his behavior in the trial is literal shenanigans, even more so given the fact that he doesn't have an alibi for the actual murder. But he does have an alibi for the fish (again, he was with Charles) which is the main sticking point of Whit!Culprit. His other sticking point is his lack of motive, both in terms of the secrets and Arei specifically. I don't know like- just look at this man, do you think he did this? /joke

No. 5 - Levi Fontana The number one suspect in the fandom for a while, and he's only at number five. He ultimately lacks an alibi for the morning, and his alibi for the fish was that he was doing his laundry... With no one else around. Shady as fuck. But I think given his principles discussed in this episode ("it is a good thing to make sure someone else doesn't die"), and the genuine desire to be helpful he has expressed throughout this trial, I think him being the culprit is unlikely. That's why I was adamant on him being an accomplice for a while because I still thought he had some role in the case, but oh well. No. 4 - Rose Lacroix I'll be honest, Rose is only this high because her alibi situation is worse than Whit's and Levi's combined. Both of her alibis are that she was sleeping in her room, which cannot be proven and can be very easily lied about. But other than that, I don't think she is the culprit. I think this case requires too many physical maneuvers for someone as lethargic as Rose to pull off successfully, and if she were the culprit I don't think she'd bring attention to the missing grippy tape at all. No. 3 - Arturo Giles Arturo does have an alibi for the fish (following J), but does not have an alibi for the morning. Unlike basically every other character here, something else that puts Arturo above them is that he was capable of overhearing Eden and Arei's conversation and forging the note. But there is also a discrepancy present that is also present with every character here, and that is the fact that Arturo did not witness Nico's attempted murder or the condition of Ace's body and the gym, so there was no way he could've replicated the murder method used for Ace on Arei. So though logistically he is a more likely possibility, I don't think it was him. No. 2 - Ace Markey Ace, to me anyway, is the second most likely candidate to being Arei's killer. He does not have an alibi for the fish and could've very easily grabbed them after David and Arei left the Relaxation Room, and he doesn't have an alibi for the morning either. He has a very clear motivation for taking a chance at killing someone, of "someone literally sliced my neck open not two days ago and I know I am not safe here I need to get the fuck out." If you choose to factor in strength, Ace is one of the strongest members of the cast and would be more than capable of the physical maneuvers made to kill Arei. Though I personally don't believe in this theory, if you think Ace attempted suicide instead of Nico trying to kill him, he has the murder method down lock too because he tried to commit it onto himself. He has been shown to be nosy, so it is not improbable that he listened in on Arei and Eden's conversation. And lastly, he is one of the only two suspects who was capable of stealing the grippy tape that was used in the murder. All of the evidence is practically stacked against him... But there are a couple of problems. One, if you believe that Nico did try to kill Ace, than the point about Ace knowing the exact method of death goes out the window. He was knocked out by the turpentine, and woke up in extreme pain in a blinding fury of rage and bloodlust, I don't think his surroundings would be the first thing on his mind. But a much bigger issue we have is the question of... Why would Ace take the tape? Following this theory, his murder plan wouldn't had started until the day after Nico's attempt on his life, it would make no sense for him to take the tape then. These two sticking points are why, though a likely candidate, I do not think Ace is the culprit. That award of main suspect goes to...

No. 1 - Eden Tobisa Yeah, if you've spent any time on this account you probably know I'm an Eden!Culprit truther. There are many well-written posts about this theory that I'm sure you've seen so I'll try to keep this short, but though the theory does have a few flaws to it, the big one being Eden's alibi for the fish that she was cleaning up with Hu, I think Eden being the culprit makes the most sense from an evidence, thematic, and motive standpoint. I know some people have dropped the theory upon the fork reveal, but DRDT is not unbeknownst to killing off characters with certain mysteries left unanswered. That is basically all for my predictions related to the culprit, but I still have some predictions for the overall episode. - Nico's gonna get placed in the hot-seat, obviously, which will definitely cause a reaction out of both Hu and Ace. And I honestly feel like the two of them are going to keep interrupting Nico until they eventually snap. And I hope that happens honestly because unless you count the "I'll kill you" line, we have yet to see or hear Nico when they're actually angry angry. Nico obviously doesn't like conflict, but they might have to get over that if they actually want to defend themself knowing the other two. - I'm still holding out hope we'll get a Random Guess segment lmao - And lastly: I need Whit to break the forth wall at least once I didn't put that on the bingo card for fucking NOTHING

Conclusion I'm gonna be completely honest, I do not have the energy to write anymore and I just want this out lmao. But overall, this was one of my favorite episodes in the whole series. I loved the Levi and Ace stuff, I like that we now have all the secrets, and like I said, the scene with Arei is probably one of my favorite scenes in the show. CH2-14 is going to be a wild ride I can already tell, and if we do find out who the killer is, you will see me screaming. Regardless of if it's Eden lmao.

UPDATED SWEAR STATISTICS CH2-13

UPDATED BINGO CARD

#finally....finally its done...haha...ITS FINALLY DONE!!! /ref #desperately hoping at least one of you gets where that's from #this took way longer than it needed to because I have been in a creativity rut this last week and it has been fucking my ass #that and there was so much to discuss with this episode compared to the last one #but its done. hopefully ch2-14 post wont take me too long #hopefully #danganronpa despair time #drdt

54 notes · View notes

silhouetteonpaper · 1 day

Text

Broken Trust, Breached Minds

Summary: When confronted with a new job opportunity, you’re forced to choose between careers. As an enhanced human, a certain someone has already picked out your future, making you worried what she might think—or better yet, what she might do. Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 1,882 Warnings: Use of powers, angst, trust issues

You stare at the bright computer screen, the email before you making your heart drop. We’d like to offer you a position with us. The job you passively applied to a few weeks ago actually got back to you, and not just to turn you down.

You didn’t think you’d actually get the job, it was solely a ‘doesn’t hurt to try’ attempt at applying. But here you are, reading the email containing the key to your dream career as a writer for the biggest entertainment company. It’s something you’ve dreamed of since you were little, before you made commitments to your current job.

Although less of a job and more of a lifestyle, you currently spend your days protecting earth as an Avenger. It’s fulfilling, yet something inside you yearns for a different career. You enjoy the time spent with the team, who’s more like family than anything else, but you know you’re destined for something different, something you’ve wanted for a long time now.

Terrified of what the team might think, you haven’t mentioned your application to anyone—let alone the job offer. The team is fairly aware of your passion for writing, but most of them assume it’s more of a hobby as most of your time is devoted to training. Everyone assumes just because you’re an enhanced superhuman, you only have one option in life.

The idea of being a professional writer fills you with bliss, spending hours exercising your mind as the endless flow of words finally have an outlet. Not having to worry about the city being in danger yet again, or the fear of not being prepared for your next mission. Getting to do something you truly love, and can never get tired of.

On the contrary, the idea of telling the team you’d prefer to write over saving the world makes you feel nauseous. Will they be supportive? Usually any person would pick being a superhero over anything else, but you’re different. Even though your powers are a great asset to the team and their Avenging, you feel you could be even more useful as a writer in the world of entertainment.

Plus, work should be something you love, right? You decide to entertain the idea of no longer being an Avenger, weighing if it’d be a good idea to test the waters and talk with someone about it. Eventually, you commit and attempt to build up your confidence as you head out to see what your closest friend might think.

When you leave your room, Wanda is sitting alone in the living room. She’s like an older sister to you, taking you under her wing when you first joined the team. Because both of you are enhanced, she played a key role in your training. Hours of time together brought you two closer, and now you already feel like you can tell her everything. That leaves a good chance she’d be supportive of you retiring as an Avenger. Still, you want to tread lightly—just in case.

“Hey, Wanda,” you say softly while approaching the strawberry blonde on the couch. She smiles warmly at you, shifting slightly to face you as you sit beside her. “Could I get your opinion on something?”

She nods. “Of course, what’s up?” Her eyebrows raise, signaling she’s really listening. You take a deep breath, thinking of how to phrase your words.

“I’m not one hundred percent on this, it’s just an idea… but what if I stopped going on missions?” You dance around the real subject, trying to gain an idea on where Wanda would stand with this. She sports a confused expression.

“And just train with us? If you’re going to train, why not go on missions too?” She asks curiously.

You press your lips together, knowing the only way to be clear is to state your idea fully. “No, I mean… stopping all of it. No longer being a part of Avengers.” You cautiously watch as Wanda’s expression falls. Half of the story will have to suffice for now, because her unsure look makes you even more hesitant to speak.

“You’re enhanced, we need you on the team,” Wanda voices, your stomach flipping. Maybe you were wrong, maybe she wouldn’t support the idea.

“But what if I’m not really meant to be a superhero? I can’t control the fact I have these powers, but I can control what I do with my life.” You try to reason. Wanda shakes her head, looking to the floor as she tries to organize her thoughts.

“You do so much good every time we step out onto the battlefield, we can’t lose that. I don’t think anyone on the team would be okay with letting you go.” She expresses, putting a comforting hand on your knee.

“We can handle them,” You remark, knowing how persuasive the two of you could be. But that would only work if Wanda would agree to support this endeavor, and so far things weren’t looking too good. “Why is it that big of a deal if I’m not an Avenger? The rest of you are more than capable of holding your own.”

Wanda’s gaze finally meets yours again, her hand withdrawing. “Because enhanced super-humans usually don’t become writers. I don’t know why you’d quit such a good thing over that.” She discloses. You inhale sharply, not only taken aback by her sudden harsh tone, but at the mention of your new job offer.

She knows. How could she possibly know? Your mind reels, heart racing as Wanda’s words take you by surprise. She looks to the ground, the impact of her words finally resonating. That’s when it suddenly hits you; she read your mind.

“Wanda, I didn’t mention anything about being a writer.” You state, looking at her with a disappointed expression. It was something Wanda always held herself to, never using her powers on any of her friends. Especially the ability to read minds, it was a huge boundary she always kept.

You could see Wanda’s expression fall, but it was different this time. Like she knew she messed up. The sour taste of distrust rose in your throat as you watched Wanda break eye contact.

“You read my mind, didn’t you?” You assert, shaking your head in disbelief. Accessing your thoughts is a breach of any kind of privacy you still had these days, leaving you appalled at her actions. You thought she was one of your closest friends, but maybe you were wrong about that too.

“No, I-“ Wanda started, pausing as she tried to explain herself. But there was no use, what she did betrayed your trust and there was no going back. Any friend would want the full story, sure, but a true friend wouldn’t misuse their powers just for some extra understanding.

In a huff of frustration, you stand from the couch, not letting the woman even try to untangle her words. The anger inside of you leaves an urgent feeling, the decision you originally came here to make becoming even clearer. If not even your closest friend can support you, there’s no point in staying here a second longer.

You’ve been sitting in your bedroom, staring at that same email for the past hour. The drafted response accepting the position is typed out, ready to send with one click of a button. But your finger can’t seem to make that one simple motion.

The burning feeling in your chest won’t relent, leaving you weary about what step to take next. You want to take this job, more than anything. So why can’t you just hit send and accept it?

You’re a great asset to the Avengers, but don’t want to be a superhero anymore. Why can’t Wanda accept that? Why is she so against you following your passion? The questions that you can’t possibly answer swirl inside your mind, almost blocking out the sound of a soft knock on your door.

You let out an exasperated sigh, hoping that the strawberry blonde isn’t outside waiting to redeem herself. “Come in,” you call reluctantly. Sure enough, Wanda opens the door with a guilty expression.

You don’t let her get a word in before speaking up, “Look, if you’re here to try and justify things, I’m not in the mood for excuses.” Wanda takes a deep breath while clenching and unclenching her fists. It’s easy to tell she’s thinking hard about what to do next.

“Just give me five minutes.” Wanda pleads. You let out yet another sigh of resignation, moving aside on your bed so she can sit. It takes a moment for her eyes to find yours, and it’s easy to tell Wanda really wants to do this right.

“I only did it because I was worried,” She starts. You scoff, shaking your head. How were you supposed to take that as a valid excuse? Can you even trust what she’s saying right now?

“Is that the truth, or do I need to read your mind to find the real reason?” You jab in return. Wanda presses her lips together to relay a silent ‘fair enough’.

“The fact you were even considering leaving the Avengers made me worried, I wasn’t sure what possible reason could cause that. I wanted to be sure something wasn’t truly wrong,” She explains. Now it’s your turn to take a deep breath, the wall of anger you built up being knocked down a few bricks.

“Why didn’t you just ask? I thought we were close enough for that.” You respond.

“I did too, so the fact you were hiding something made me worried. You never hide anything unless something’s up.” Touché. She’s not wrong; all those months of training side by side really allowed her to get to know you, more so than you thought. It’s not often you hide things from anyone, let alone Wanda. Maybe she had a reason to worry, but not enough to warrant misuse of her powers.

“Fine, yeah—I withheld part of the truth, but only because I was worried how you’d react. I know how you are about our powers.” You reason, thinking back to all those times where Wanda made a huge deal about your abilities. There were moments when you could’ve sworn Wanda saw herself as a villain, and therefore you by extension. She ingrained into you that you’re dangerous.

Wanda breaks eye contact as she rehashes those memories, nodding slowly while they replay in her mind. “I’m terrified to see you get hurt.” Her words are nearly a whisper, yet they leave you stunned to silence.

There’s only one thing able to escape your lips. “I think we chose the wrong career path for that.” The two of you both chuckle, finally meeting each other’s gaze once more. “Just because I'm enhanced doesn’t mean I shouldn’t live the life I want.” You breathe.

Wanda nods, this time more confidently. “I know. You’re going to make a great writer.” A grin spreads across your face, she’s supporting your choice. She wears a matching grin as you lean in to hug her, the two of you melting into a soft embrace. You get to go into your dream job with the support of the one person you care about most, that’s all you could ever hope for.

#marvel #mcu #the avengers #marvel fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

53 notes · View notes

fandomxo00 · 2 days

Note

I might be a freak for this but Hugh jacking off to his younger costar who should be sleeping in the next room over (maybe like the hotel is pretty dingy because of the location of the shoot they can’t do any better and the walls are so so thin) but noiiooooo youre wide awake and doing the same and listening to him grunt out your name and you’re planning how youre going to corner him the next day and finally fuck him

note: ive wanted to do something like this for so long just needed some inspo, doesn't follow the idea to a tee but i tried-- omg im so excited!!!! we're all freaks dw 18+ below got carried away again - i have some requests wanting older readers so imma start trying, im only 19 but i like to think that maybe i am mature enough to write for older, wish me luck lmao

characters: Hugh Jackman x 30yo!Actress!Reader

You and Hugh had gotten relatively close in the last couple of months. You had to shoot in the middle of nowhere at some crappy motel and funnily enough they could only find some dingy hotel, that had a tiny lobby, they didn't serve breakfast, they barely had an ice machine. You almost laughed at the idea of a guy like Hugh staying in place like this. You knew he wasn't a snob, and the place was relatively clean, but you just saw him in a large suite with a little living room and kitchen area. The bed was only five feet away from the bed at this hotel and it didn't even have a couch.

You had texted Hugh when you got to the hotel, and you could hear his laughter from the other side at the meme you sent him. When Hugh first met you had been enamored. You were as surprised as everyone else when you'd been drawn to him like a magnetic. He had heard about your anxiety, so he kept checking up on you. Hugh was also your scene part and love interest in the film so eventually you felt this sense of comfort around him, he's seemed very trustworthy and kind. Always asking before he touched you in any scene, going over exactly what he would do. Sometimes when he pulled you in a little too close you got a little dumb drunk off of him. So, you wound up just staring at him like a dear in the headlights. But then he'd usually would end the conversation by making you laugh.

The storyline of the movie where he's engaged to a woman, though he loves her very much when he meets her younger sister the two connect and become close friends. Then you're on vacation and your sister wounds up in the hospital severely hurt, not knowing if she was going to wake up. You seek comfort in Hugh's character and the two of you have sex before the hospital calls about the death of your sister. He realizes that he's been in love with you for a while and your denial. He reveals his feelings for her. It's a whole mess but the two wound up together in the end.

Hugh wasn't going to accept the role unless he liked his co-workers, he hadn't done romance in a while, and even his last romance movie was more thriller than anything. He had been really interested in you when he heard about your journey to this movie.

You still lived in a little apartment in Brooklyn, traveling for work and trying to get as many gigs as you could. You had audition for a side character in this film but then they told you they were eyeing you for the lead female character. Though you were caught off guard that they needed you to do a chemistry test with Hugh Jackman.

The chemistry test was just the confirmation to Hugh that he should do this movie. He had seen your audition after he'd been at the studio, and he suggested you to the directors. Not because he was attracted to you, it wasn't even something he cared about when he first saw you. Hugh just thought that you were talented, and it would in fact help that you a gentle beauty that wasn't really in Hollywood. You were tall but curvy, the shorts you were highlighted your hips and your ass while clutching to the soft skin of your stomach. So maybe he did the care...Even if you have no real interest in him at least he could be around a woman like you. He got to actually meet you and work with you even if it was just a test read. You were incredibly strong-willed, you acted with so much emotion and when he was looking into your eyes, he definitely felt things while looking into the golden-brown hues of your iris'. Hugh's eyes flitted to the curls that fell out of the clip in your hair.

Then when it came to actually shooting with it, it grew progressively harder to not put himself into this character. To not feel something when he has to stare into your eyes, and the first he had to kiss you? He could tell how nervous you were before filming but when you got into character, looking up at him with wanting eyes. Hugh tried not to stare into your soul and grow feelings for you. But how could he not?

It was intense scene, the two of you had to share a motel room, your sister in the movie was in the hospital. You come into the room with your clothes soaking wet because of the rain, you were crying, the makeup they put on you to make you look more flushed was waterproof. As you started practically sobbing in Hugh's arms, before he convinced you to change your clothes. You had completely came into your character, he could see the change in you, as you cried in his arms. The two of you were upset about what happened to your sister, talking to each other, his hand coming to yours before he kisses you. The kiss is soft, his lips landing on the side of lips but your own puckering to meet his. Then his hand came up to rest right above your heart, touching the skin between your breasts and neck. Hugh softly smiled into the kiss as he felt your heart race, that's when he heard a cut!

"Why are you smiling?" The director questioned, a frown on his face.

"Sorry." Hugh cleared his throat as you looked up at him with a doe eyed gaze. God you were in your 30's, he shouldn't want you the way he wants you right now. About the happiness that fills up in him when he gets to touch you so intimately.

You redo the scene, and Hugh sticks the landing this time. His hand coming up to your jaw as you continued on with scene, your lips moving his. You let out the scripted moan as his tongue dove into your mouth.

Hugh went off script as your breathless look at him, "You're so beautiful." He murmured, his hand coming to brush away your hair.

"I-." You breathed out, before darting forward to connect your lips again. His hand went to the back of your neck, before pausing as the director yelled cut.

"Good job guys." The director yelled.

"Are you doing okay, love?" Hugh checked in, his hand coming to your shoulder in a friendly squeeze before moving away.

"Yeah." You hummed, nodding your head.

"You're being awfully quiet." He said, his chin dipping to look into your eyes.

"Well it's not every day you kiss Hugh Jackman." You laughed, as his started smiling over at you.

"Really now, hmm?" Hugh teased as you blushed, reaching out to hit at his chest, which made him laugh even harder. That's when the intimacy coordinator came up to you and Hugh, the two of you turning towards her. She refreshed the mints in your mouth while she spoke, as she talked over the basics, showing the pasties that go over your breasts and the longer bandages that went over your private parts. Hugh got a sock, because the two of you had to be completely nude for these scenes. He hasn't had do one of these scenes for years, during the sex scenes he stayed respectful as always.

It was normal for actors to get aroused in sex scenes, even if its just a character they are still getting into that mindset. It wasn't like Hugh ever got super turned on but with you? Attraction was normal between costars but having romantic feelings was less so. He was so nervous that it was going to be more than just a little attraction.

Hugh had reason to be concerned to, but because when he saw you naked, he kept his eyes to himself as much as he could. But even with your breasts and genitalia were covered, he tried to think of things that turned him off. Trying to rid himself the embarrassment of getting hard before the scene even started. The two of you finished the make out part of the scene before starting to strip each other's clothes off. Even though it seemed like such a simple thing, the coordinator and director had full control of your movements. His hand settles on the middle of your back as you rise on your knees, reaching his face as met his lips in sloppy kiss.

"Closer." The director spoke, and the two of you moved in closer to each other. Hugh knew it was okay when you start moving forward, so he made it look natural as your hand came to his chest while he pulled you into him.

You felt so flushed you were embarrassed as you felt yourself become wet. Even when his hand came down to fake massage at you, hovering over your core and making the actions with his hand. The way you wanted to connect his fingers with core was so hard to keep at bay. But that's when you felt his hard on accidentally rest against your thigh before he subtly but quickly moved it away from you. "Sorry." he breathed, the quietest whisper before he continued on with his lines for the scene, teasing you and your eyes fluttering shut. Your brain was screaming, 'Please fucking touch me'.

They gave the two of you your breaks, time to drink water, freshen back up, and calm down. Your mind coming back to center, trying not to become animalistic. You nerves about doing the scene were long gone though, Hugh made you feel so comfortable and somewhere deep down your crush fueled off the fact that he was hard. Even though it was just a biological function, you knew it was delusion, but you didn't really care. Then when he was ontop of you, his lips sloppily pressing against yours as he thrusted against the pillow between the two of you. Your hands around his neck, your legs hiked up around his waist. You wanted Hugh to press his hips in harder, to feel the outline of his cock against your core.

This wasn't going to happen again until much later in filming and you knew that it would go just as quick as this did. You wanted to soak up every minute of his attention on you. Even though he was only looking at your character that way. It felt nice to be looked at like you meant something to someone, even if it wasn't real.

Little did you know that Hugh couldn't get his dick to go down, not even when they got back to the hotel that night. He kept his hardened cock tucked into his waistband, avoiding everyone and trying to get back as quick as possible. Though as he was leaving you asked him for a ride, and of course he said yes.

It hadn't been this awkward between the two of you since the first time you met. And it wasn't just because you were starstruck. You were both stuck in your own heads as you thought about the other on top of you doing dirty-dirty things. Hugh would glance over at you and try to think of what to say. But the blood wasn't in his brain helping him fuel his thoughts, all of the blood went straight to his dick.

Hugh's eyes skimming down your body as he naturally looked at your legs covered in shorts, before shaking his head as he looked away. You hummed to the song playing on the radio as you fidgeted with your hands. "Are you sure we're alright, I didn't make you uncomfortable?"

Your head looked over to his so quickly he was surprised you didn't have whiplash. A furrow in your brow as you glared over at him, "Of course not. It was just ya know tiring ready to lay down in bed."

"If only I could show you the real thing." Hugh blurted, his cheeks flaming red as he chuckled, trying to come off as joke. You awkwardly laughed along; your eyes wide as you swallow the lump in your throat, avoiding his gaze. Before looking up at him with a kind smile.

God, he hasn't this way in twenty years. Hasn't been so obsessed with someone, infatuated and cared so much about your opinion and feelings. Hugh had been raised to treat a woman right, he had succeeded in doing that for 27 years, but one day it didn't matter how he treated her. The two had drifted so far apart, the two giving up on a love that was once everything to the both of them. It was now something they wanted to move on from.

When he got back to his hotel room, he hadn't wasted much time in getting comfortable on the red comforter. Taking off his shirt, his pants and his underwear before walking into the bathroom. Hugh turned on the shower, stepping inside and soon grabbing his cock in his hand. He looked down and spit on his shaft before thinking about your hand replacing his, moving up and down his long pulsing cock. The idea of your pretty little eyes looking up at him as you kissed him his cock. Just the thought of the moans you had given him in the scene, imagined the vibrations against his dick. "Fuck, y/n. So fucking beautiful for me." His voice rasped, as he started to fucking himself harder in his hand.

God he wanted you here, he wanted to shove you up against the wall. That's when he heard it, pausing as he heard moans and a buzzing from the other room.

Little did you know that you'd been doing the same thing, your cunt soaked with all the things running through your head. Flashes of his hands on you, the way he moved with you, against you. The taste and feel of his mouth on yours. You had your suctioned rose over your clit, plunging a dildo into your cunt. It was the best way to get yourself off and you knew you needed release after everything that happened.

You imagined Hugh over you, the imagine of him stroking your cunt with his thick fingers, made rip from his throat before panting out his name like a prayer. "Hugh, god fuck." Your voice high-pitched and echoing through the walls.

Hugh moaned at the sound of your voice whispering his name, a flush coming his chest as he beat his dick, bucking up into his hand whenever he heard you moan. Imagining whatever vibrator, you had against your soft little pearl, and he imagined you so wet that you dripped out on to your petals. He wanted to shove his face into your cunt, he didn't want to admit to smelling your arousal. But at one point he had to kiss down your stomach, it wasn't a very long scene. But the potency of your arousal made his cock stir, the fantasy of licking up your core invading his mind. You had to be really fucking wet in order for him to smell your slick.

Hugh felt a flush come over his body as he came into his hand, the deep grunting of your name, rumbled against the thin walls. Making your legs tremble as you came around the toy. The thought of him getting himself off to you driving you over the edge. Hugh turned off the shower once his seed was rinsed off of him. He was quick as he stepped out of the shower, wanting to get to you, way too quick as he slipped. The sound of him groaning loudly but not in a good way heard through the wall. You quickly gathered yourself though you hadn't even have to clean yourself before getting up and running over to check on him.

You knocked on the door, and moments later it opened. Hugh had a hand to his head, and you stepped in, neglecting to bring up the fact that you heard each other getting off to the other respectively. Your hands came up to his face as worry flashed your eyes. "I just slipped out of the shower, I'm fine love." Hugh murmured, as you shoved his hand away to feel over where he wincing.

He grimaced but there was no bump or blood, so you moved your hand away before rubbing at his chest. You felt far more comfortable being intimate with him now. "So you're okay?" he chuckled lightly as he nodded his head. Hugh's hand went to your waist as you'd not move away from him. You licked your lips as you looked down at his.

"I could be better."

"Yeah? How can I do that?"

"I think you know." Hugh grunted, his voice deep yet soothing as he whispered in your ear, his accent thick and making your hands curl against the robe he was wearing. You moved back to look at his chest, as your hands went to the belt wrapped around his waist. You fiddled with the knot as you looked up at his dark eyes.

"I heard you." You whispered, your voice practically trembling in anticipation.

"I know." Hugh replied, his eyes looking down at you with all the emotions he had to conceal earlier in the day. "I've wanted you for so long."

"Really?" Your eyebrows rose as you scanned his eyes light hazel eyes. Hugh pulled you into him as your hands started fiddling with the strings of the robe.

"Since the moment I met you." He confessed, as he stepped closer to you, you slowly kept pulling him along as you started untying the belt. Hugh pressed you up against the door, it moving back as it closed all the way. His hand moved from your waist to lock the door as the robe opened up to reveal his naked body underneath. You couldn't see much, but he looked like a fucking fantasy with the way he was looking at you.

"Me too." You admitted as his lips landed on yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. Hugh's lips were alot more firm, excitement raidating through the two of you as you felt his erection. "Already?" You giggled.

"Never got soft again, baby." He husked, before he leant down to grab at your shorts and pull them down. Your hands came to his chest when he met you eye to eye, moving the material away from his chest. Just as Hugh's hands went to your shirt and swiftly pulled it over your head. A smile coming to his lips as you realized you hadn't even put on any panties.

Your eyes flitted down his naked body, your heart racing in your chest. It felt different this time, you felt more in the present as you traced his muscled figure, his toned and large biceps, the way his v-line dips and his cock bobbing as he moved to pick you up. Your legs wrapping around his waist as you pressed your lips against his jaw. "God I want you so bad, Hugh. Please."

"I want you to keep begging like that." Hugh murmured, humor in his voice as his hips rolled against yours. "Do you need any pro-."

"Just fuck me, please c'mon. " Hugh didn't say anything else as he smiled over at you before gripping your hips and sliding his cock inside of you. You let out lewdest moan, your eyebrows pinching together as your eyes closed. Hugh watched every movement, completely enveloped on the pleasure he was already providing for you.

"So fucking wet for me, huh? Still got that little crush on me?" Hugh mocked, as you flushed, hiding your head in his neck as he slowly started rolling his hips against you. Your back flush to the wall, with each thrust you moved up, you felt him so deep inside of you. That's when he picked you up and moved you over to the bed. His hands coming to your thighs and moving them up to your chest. Hugh's cock filled you once again, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. The moans let out drove him nuts as he started pounding into you. His leverage on the bed making his thrusts hard and deep. "Gotta use one of those toys next time, hmm? Yeah, fuck."

"Hugh. " You panted, as he grunted into your mouth as he kissed. "So close, fuckin help me, please." Hugh groaned at your sweet yet filthy words, as his fingers came to your clit. Rubbing in tight circles as he focused on the place that made your eyes water. You started trembling, your back arching, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Fourth if you counted the two fake ones in the scene before.

Hugh was already overstimulated, he usually waited a little longer between sessions. But the need to fill you came over him and he knew the two of you didn't need any foreplay. He was determined to make you come again though, holding off his orgasm as he pulled out of you right before coming. Moving your legs back around his waist as he moved over you, his cock penterating you at a different angle. Your tired eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of you. "Please come in me." You pleaded, as Hugh started slowly rolling his hips back into yours.

"So dirty." He murmured into your lips, his hands coming to your legs, using them as leverage at his steady pace. One of his large hands encompassing your large breast, squeezing the flesh before moving down to suck on the skin on top of your breasts. Before moving down to take the nipple into his mouth and suck while trying to find that spot in you again.

When he found it, your hips bucked against his, and he moved up straight to start quickening his pace as he neared the end of his rope. Hugh usually took things slower at first but neither one of you could deny what you wanted any longer. "Gonna make me come inside of this tight pussy."

"Fuck yes." You moaned, as your hand came up to his lips, without needing the stimulation of your clit, you shattered around his cock. You don't usually ever come with his just penetration, only a rare few times you have. But you were already so overstimulated, and his cock was so much thicker and warm than the dildo you played with before. The two of you came together, the feeling of your walls suffocating his cock ripped his orgasm out of him. You felt the spurts of his come inside of you, your walls pulsating at the feeling of being utterly fucked out.

Hugh pulled out of you, flopping on to his back on the bed. His cock now softened against him as he glanced over at you. "Fucking amazing you are." A tired grin came over your lips as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you in close. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep you."

"It's more than alright, Hugh."

tags: @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland

#hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman x actress reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman acting #hugh jackman actor fic #requests

69 notes · View notes