When in L.A
Summary: while on a walk with your boyfriend, the both of you experience a horrible interaction with one of Jacob’s supposed fans.
Warnings: r is referred to being Australian but ofc you can change it :)
Wc: 574
A/n: decided to post a fic before i officially start school again tomorrow 🥹
enews
Liked by jacobelordiupdates, elordifan, and 3,098,261 others
Jacob spotted with his girlfriend y/n out in LA today!! The Aussie couple were playing around with their dogs while Jacob took a few photos of her :)
view all comments
user1: oh to be her 😫
user2: she’s so so pretty and seems so sweet ahh
user3: I wonder how they met lol
↘️ user4: pretty sure they knew each other since they were at school in Australia 😂
user5: did not know she was Australian? Omg what?
user6: when is it my turn 🥲
user7: thought he’d be dating someone famous but oop
↘️ user8: didn’t know celebrities had to only date other celebrities?
~
You and Jacob amble through the streets of Hollywood hills, the chill energy of the neighbourhood surrounding you as you take your dogs Layla and Freddie for a walk.
You’ve been friends since high school back in Australia and only started dating around 2 years ago when you visited LA and caught up with Jacob. And it was only a couple months ago you moved across the world to be with your boyfriend.
You weren’t foreign to the recognition Jacob garners, fans occasionally approach for a quick chat or photo, and for the most part, it’s a positive experience for the both of you.
A young woman, probably in her early 20s, spots Jacob from afar, her eyes widening with recognition. She hurries over, her excitement palpable. The two of you stop as he comes up, “Hi Jacob!” She excitedly greets, her phone ready for a selfie.
Jacob flashes his signature smile, “Hey, how’s it going?” The fan smiles widely, her full attention on your boyfriend as you stand to the side, “Great! Can I take a photo with you please?” She asks, “Yeah, sure.”
The fan, seemingly disregarding your presence, abruptly hands you her phone. “Take the photo for me,” she demands, her tone leaving no room for refusal. Caught off guard by her directness, you manage a surprised “Uh, sure.”
Even you could tell Jacob was caught off guard by her rude behaviour, his eyebrows slightly knitted. You reluctantly take the phone and frame the photo as the woman poses with Jacob, her hand around his waist as he respectfully hovers his hand on her back.
She glances at you with a dismissive look, as if you’re merely an accessory to the moment. “Make sure it’s good,” she commands, refocusing on Jacob as he visibly becomes agitated.
Despite the awkwardness, you snap the photo with a forced smile. The fan snatches her phone without a word of thanks and strides away, disappearing from view.
Jacob, sensing your discomfort, lets out a sigh. “She seemed nice” His voice laced with sarcasm as you chuckle. “They’re not usually like that, trust me.” He remarks, irritation evident in his voice.
Jacob puts a reassuring arm around your shoulders, “Don’t let it get to you. I didn’t even really smile in the photo,” He says with a cheeky grin as you couldn’t help but laugh.
~
Later that day, Jacob takes to his instagram page that he mostly posted work related things, and shared a photo of the two of you with your dogs, along with a thoughtful caption.
jacobelordi
Liked by yourusername, alexademie, sadiesoverall, jacobelordiupdates, and 8,038,297 others
Hey everyone! I don’t usually post things like this but it needs to be said. I love meeting you all in public, and I’m always grateful for your support. However, let’s remember to be respectful to everyone, including the people I’m with. Shoving phones in someone’s hand, demanding for them to take a photo and being rude isn’t cool. Let’s keep it a positive experience. Much love to you all!! ❤️
view all comments
yourusername: 🐶💗
↘️ jacobelordi: love you!
↘️ user1: awe 😭
rachelzegler: so glad you’re bringing this up!!
alexademie: PREACH 🙌
user2: I seriously don’t understand people who call themselves “fans” and do disrespectful shit like this
user3: Is this about the incident that happened today??
↘️ user4: yup. It’s all over Twitter and tiktok rn
↘️ user5: the “fan” is getting slandered so hard rn
user6: wait I’m so confused. What happened?
↘️ user7: basically a “fan” came up to Jacob and Y/n and demanded y/n to take the photo for them and she was just overall rude
user8: so funny how Jacob isn’t even smiling in the photo 😭
↘️ user9: HAHAHAHHA I WANNA SEE THIS PIC
↘️ user10: it’s on TikTok!!
2K notes
·
View notes
The Better, Hidden Half
Requested Here!
Part 2 Here >
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)
Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.
Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?
A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍
Word Count: 3.9k+ words
Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.
Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”
Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”
Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”
Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.
“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”
“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”
“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”
They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.
✯✯✯✯✯
7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.
Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.
As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.
✯✯✯✯✯
Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.
Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.
“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.
“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”
“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”
“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.
“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.
“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.
“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”
“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.
“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”
“And what bag is that?”
“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”
“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”
“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”
Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’
“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.
“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”
Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.
“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.
“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.
The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.
“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.
Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”
Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”
“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”
“Tim-“
“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”
Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.
“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.
✯✯✯✯✯
While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.
“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.
“Did you get any blood on you?”
“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”
“Smart man.”
Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.
“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.
“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.
“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”
“Can you describe his condition?”
“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”
“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.
“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”
Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”
“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”
Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”
“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”
“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.
“Yes, I do.”
“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”
“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.
Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.
“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.
“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.
“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”
Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.
✯✯✯✯✯
Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.
Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”
While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.
He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”
“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.
“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"
"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”
Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”
“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“
“Don’t think like that. It’s-“
“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”
“What are you saying?”
Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”
“Anything.”
“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”
“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.
Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.
“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”
“You’ve never mentioned her.”
“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”
“I get that. What’s she like?”
Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”
“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”
“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.
“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”
“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.
“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.
Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.
“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”
Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”
Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.
“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”
“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”
Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.
“He’s okay,” Angela begins.
You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”
“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”
“Who did?”
“His rookie.”
Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.
“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.
“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.
“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”
“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.
“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”
“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.
“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.
“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.
Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.
“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.
Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.
“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.
You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”
Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”
You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.
“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.
In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.
Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.
Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.
Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.
“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”
“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.
“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.
“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.
“Where is he?”
She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.
“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.
You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.
“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.
Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.
“I’m sorry,” he begins.
“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”
Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”
You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”
“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”
Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”
Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.
“I love you,” Tim says.
“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”
“Ready to meet the rest of my-“
“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.
“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.
“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”
“How clean is the house?”
You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.
“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”
“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”
You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”
Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.
797 notes
·
View notes
OSCAR SPECIAL (PART ONE OF FOUR)
Given Cillian’s recent success, I decided to jump ahead a little in my fics and give you a little Oscar Special. But don’t worry, I will cover off everything in between in due course and, for some fics, this Oscar part will hopefully get you guessing, while for others it will constitute a happy ending!
Our Dirty Little Secret (Special Part)
Nine months later…
"I don't know why I agreed to this," you told Cillian while clutching his hand just as the car pulled up in front of the red carpet. This was your first public outing with Cillian since the scandal about your illicit affair had broken just over nine months ago and whilst you had found your way together, society did not exactly approve of your somewhat controversial relationship with the 47-year-old.
"It'll be fine. You need to trust me," he whispered in your ear confidently, as if it were just another date night for you and not the greatest gathering of Hollywood's glitterati. Deep down, you wanted to believe him but it was obvious to you that he had put on act, just for you, to calm your nerves. He hated these events just as much as you did and knew how hard it was for you to adapt to this lifestyle with him.
"I should have stayed with Mara, Cillian. I never left her for so long, you know," you then tried to change the topic, talking about the daughter you had brought into this world together just under nine months ago, but Cillian simply chuckled.
"Mara will be fine with my mum, at the hotel. I promise," Cillian assured you with a loving smile. "Despite, I really need you with me tonight," he paused, gently squeezing your hand. "I couldn't imagine being here without you, Y/N," he then finally told you as one of the red-carpet attendees opened the door for you both.
"Don't you dare run off on me," you gasped, seeing all those intimidating photographers taking pictures of you both as he helped you out of the car, your white dress grazing the asphalt.
"I would never," he chuckled, playfully winking at you, as you bit back a smile, realizing that you were too easily flustered.
He then took your hand into his firmly, clearly showing the world that you belonged together and not a single soul would change that.
"Cillian, over here!" a reporter yelled out while, another, shorter woman with fiery hair, aggressively jumped in to get a good shot of you both. The molten sea of cameras around you ignited a varied assortment of insecurities you forgot you ever had. Suddenly, you were a ten-year-old girl again, your heart dancing under its master's feet set ablaze by judgement; but Cillian squeezed your hand gently, reminding you that you were a woman now—his woman.
A familiar warmth spread through your chest as his steely blue eyes fixated on yours. A silently brokered promise passed between you two: Survive this together.
The female reporter from earlier pushed her way to the front, locking her beady gaze onto Cillian with a voracious hunger.
"Cillian, how does it feel to be nominated as Best Actor for your performance in Oppenheimer?" she asked while you tried to back off a little, but Cillian would not leave you alone, holding you closer to him, showing the world that you both were together in this.
"It's a true honor to be nominated. I couldn't be more grateful. The cast, the crew, everyone really poured their hearts into the story, and I wouldn't be here without them. It was something unique and powerful," he responded, barely looking at the woman, but at you instead, trying to keep his focus.
"And I see you are being supported by your wonderful, young girlfriend tonight, making this your first public outing together. Is that right?" the reporter asked, curiosity sparking excitement in her voice as she studied you two intently.
"Well, we do have a young child together, which makes it difficult for us to attend events like this as a couple," Cillian began to say while smiling at you intently. "But, especially tonight, I couldn't ask for more than her presence," he admitted, his voice dripping with sincerity as he gazed at you openly.
The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter: It was a look that held secrets, a silent vow. You squeezed his hand tighter now and were unable to keep the smile from growing on your lips.
Cillian then stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, causing you to disconnect from the chaotic dance unfolding before your eyes and connect to the feeling of being near him, a feeling that cantered and calmed you.
"Thank you Cillian, and good luck tonight," the reporter finally offered a soft smile before signalling to her photographer to take some more pictures.
As you walked down the red carpet, a familiar pop song began to infiltrate your eardrums as you ignored the snippets of questions being hurled at both of you, creating a barrier between your world and theirs. Even with the nest of hundreds of reporters and photographers, the red carpet no longer scared you as it used to, especially when you had Cillian by your side, shielding you from the worst of it all.
Eventually, you both reached your seats, not too far from the front of the stage and Cillian introduced you to some of the actors and actresses he had worked with. You also met some familiar faces, like Emily Blunt and her husband John who both had a calming presence about themselves.
The tension seemed to melt away as you chatted with them and, for a moment, you managed to forget all the critical eyes resting on you, fading into the background until it was time to be quiet for the opening speech.
As the ceremony commenced, you merely held hands with Cillian, giving his reassurance every time he gave yours. Despite the constant whispers and sly glances coming your way, you tried to embody Cillian's mantra, staying present in this moment and focusing on his unwavering companionship instead of the judgement weighing you down. For hours on end, you managed to simply enjoy the show and, when finally, it was his turn to shine, you clutched his hand even tighter.
"And the Oscar goes to," the presenter announced, opening the golden envelope while, secretly you had been crossing your fingers for him all week long. "Cillian Murphy!" he then announced, making a-thousand-cameras flash simultaneously as your heart began to race uncontrollably against your ribcage. It was a strange feeling, this overwhelming sense of pride that flooded you, leaving you bruised and raw from the exposure.
Standing up simultaneously with Cillian, a big smile formed on your face as, quickly you caressed his face. "You did it!" you whispered to Cillian, hugging him almost desperately as he embraced you back, tightly. He then kissed the top of your head, taking a moment to soak in the gravity of his achievement as the crowd around cheered and clapped for him.
"Fuck," he gasped, still in shock, before stagehands began urging him to come forward and take his spot to accept the coveted award.
"Go on and give your speech," you chuckled, gently pushing him towards the stage while blinking away the tears threatening to mess up your makeup and, just before he took to the stage, he turned his head quickly to capture your lips for a fleeting second, leaving an imprint of adoration behind.
With shaking hands, he mounted the steps, greeted by rousing applause, and you leaned against the back of your chair, watching his every move as he accepted his award.
"Fuck," was the first word that escaped his lips, causing the audience to laugh in response and his actor's instinct kicked in as he used his impromptu curse to deliver an exquisite speech that brought a tear to your eye.
"I am clearly overwhelmed by all this. Thank you. Truly," he spoke, his voice shaky. "I first and foremost want to thank Chris Nolan and Emma Thomas for having faith in me and creating such a masterpiece. To the incredible cast, Robert, Emily, and the rest, thank you for teaching me so much about the craft. I can't believe I get to share a title with such incredible artists," Cillian said before his eyes drifted in your direction, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And, of course, I want to thank my beautiful partner Y/N for supporting me through this in those last few months. You have pretty much been a single mother in the midst of award season, and I am so grateful that you are here with me tonight. To you, our daughter Mara and my son Max, I love you beyond words," Cillian said, his voice heavy with emotion, and it was then that your vision blurred with unshed tears.
He then proudly lifted his award into the air before humbly walking back to his seat, stealing a glance at you long enough to let you know exactly what he meant.
"I am so proud of you," you whispered as he squeezed your hand again while, around you, murmurs originated from fellow celebrities congratulating him on his well-deserved win.
"This means a lot to me Y/N. Thank you for having been my rock those past few months," Cillian whispered back, his gratitude evident in the warmth of his touch. The intensity of his words caused your heart to flutter unexpectedly and, suddenly, everything around you became distant and muted.
Not too keen to attend the after party even following his success, when the show drew to an end, Cillian engaged in the necessary press engagements before suggesting that the two of you slipped away before everyone made their way to Vanity Fair.
Together, you crept out into the night unnoticed, weaving your way through indulging crowds, gazing at each other, lost in all the nuances of the day that had unfolded—all the stolen glances between you both during the award ceremony, to the brush of his fingertips against your hand while trying to lead you through the venous crowds.
Eventually then, you arrived back at the hotel where Cillian's mother was watching Mara. She was already eagerly waiting your arrival and, as soon as Cillian walked through the door with the golden statute in his hand, his mother embraced him tightly.
"I am so incredibly proud of you," she beamed while gripping his face, hardly believing her eyes. "Now you've got it all, a beautiful family and the biggest achievement of your career," she remarked, wiping a tear from her eye while looking at you and Mara.
"Thank you mum, and thank you for looking after Mara for us tonight," Cillian expressed graciously, managing a weak smile as he hugged her again.
Mara then squealed with delight, screaming, "Dada!" and you both looked at each other with great surprise.
"Did she just say daddy?" you gasped. You couldn't help but be utterly taken aback, finding yourself at a loss for words as you clutched Mara in your arms and buried your face in the nape of her neck.
It was the first time she had spoken and as you held her tightly, you couldn't help but feel a surge of love that coursed through your veins, rendering you dizzy.
You glanced up at Cillian as he stood there, flabbergasted.
"Dada!" she said again, reaching out for the golden statute jutting out from Cillian's grasp. He chuckled and carefully placed it away before picking Mara up and pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek.
"Hello Babygirl," he said, laughter dancing in his eyes, and the love in that moment was palpable between them, radiating with a warmth that touched your heart. "I missed you," he then said and your eyes welled up a little. It was moments like this that made you rethink the decisions you made several months ago and you knew that it was time for you to make another now.
"I think maybe it is time for us to move in together now," you proposed to Cillian suddenly, as he looked at you with a gentle smile.
"It seems like two wins for me tonight then," he replied, taking your hand in his as Mara gurgled contentedly between you. He had waited for you to make this call for months now, ever since he first proposed it to you and now it was finally here.
To be continued...
Tags:
@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn
@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts
@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred
314 notes
·
View notes