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Hey 😊 I love your writing sooo much !
Would you maybe write a Tim Bradford imagine where you're also a TO and you're having feelings for each other but you both try to ignore them, not to let them get in your way during the job. One time that changes as like in the episodes where Lucy gets kidnapped, it's you instead of her after a date gone wrong. Tim is on the edge the whole time till they find you. And when he sees you in that barrel, barely alive, his world crashes. Of course you can be saved and he stays at the hospital all the time. When you get home he also insists on taking care of you and there he also finds the courage to tell you his feelings properly, how much he loves you and that he'll always be there to protect you. I hope that's okay with you 💗🫶🏼
I’m not going anywhere
Summary: Tim and Y/N, both tough and dedicated TOs, struggle to suppress their growing feelings for each other. When Y/N is abducted after a date goes wrong, Tim refuses to back down, risking everything to find her.
Note: I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, love! 🫶 Thank you for this amazing request, I absolutely love the idea! I decided to give it my own spin to keep it unique and fresh instead of copying the entire episode. I hope you enjoy it! 🤍
Reader x Tim Bradford
Genre: fluff/angst



Being a Training Officer was never easy. You were expected to mold rookies into dependable cops, but it was also your job to keep them alive.
Every shift brought challenges that tested your patience and skills, especially when you worked alongside someone like Tim Bradford.
Tim was a force of nature. His bluntness could crush egos, his discipline was unmatched, and his loyalty ran deeper than any badge.
As a fellow TO, I admired him more than I cared to admit. But admiration had morphed into something more, something complicated.
I had feelings for him. And it was maddening.
Tim was infuriating. He challenged me at every turn, pushed me to my limits, and managed to crawl under my skin like no one else ever had.
But then there were the moments that made my heart ache:
the quiet glances when he thought no one was watching, the softness in his voice when he checked on me after a tough day, the way he never let anyone, rookie or otherwise, disrespect me.
We would also text each other back and forth to check in on one another.
It got to the point where if one of us didn’t respond within an hour, we assumed something was wrong.
That’s what normal colleagues do, right? Checking up on one another, or am I just fooling myself?
For months, I’d buried those feelings, telling myself that they were a distraction I couldn’t afford.
This job was dangerous enough without the added complication of being in love with my colleague.
Still, there were moments when I wondered if he felt the same.
I mean, someone like Tim Bradford wouldn’t just know my favorite coffee order for no reason, right?
The station was already filled with people when I arrived, the smell of burnt coffee and stale paperwork filling the air.
I was halfway to my desk when I heard Tim’s voice behind me.
“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said, stepping beside me.
“Good morning to you too, Bradford,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“I’m serious,” he said, giving me a once-over and putting the coffee he got me down on my desk.
“Late night?”
“Something like that,” I muttered, collapsing into my chair.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Work-related?”
“No.”
He didn’t ask further, but the tension in his jaw told me he wanted to.
The truth was, I’d been on another date last night.
For weeks, I’d been trying to distract myself from my feelings for Tim by going out with guys I barely knew.
The dates were always the same, awkward conversations, forced laughter, and a growing sense that I was wasting my time.
But I kept trying, convinced that if I could just find someone else, I’d stop thinking about Tim every second of every day.
“How’s the rookie?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.
Tim sighed. “Still green, but they’ll get there.”
Before he could say more, Angela appeared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Well, if it isn’t the dream team,” she teased, leaning against my desk.
“What do you want, Lopez?” Tim asked, crossing his arms.
“Nothing,” she said innocently.
“Just enjoying the sight of you two pretending you’re not completely into each other.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”
Angela smirked. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious to everyone but you two.”
Tim’s ears turned red, and he muttered something under his breath before walking off.
“You really need to do something about that tension,” Angela said, winking at me.
I glared at her. “There is no tension. Besides, I'm going on a date later tonight." I added to make her shut up.
“Sure, but we both know the real reason why you're going on that date,” she said, walking away with a laugh.
I glanced at Tim, who was now at the other end of the room, barking orders at a rookie.
For a moment, our eyes met, and my heart did that stupid fluttering thing I hated so much.
Angela might have been onto something.
That evening after my shift, I found myself sitting across from Eric, my date for the night.
He was tall, dark-haired, and charming in a way that felt almost too polished.
We’d met at a coffee shop a week ago, and while I hadn’t been particularly interested, I’d agreed to go out with him.
“So, what made you say yes?” Eric asked, flashing me a grin.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted, sipping my drink.
He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad you did.”
I nodded, but my mind wasn’t really on him. As he talked about his job in finance, I found myself comparing him to Tim.
Eric was nice, but he didn’t have Tim’s sharp wit or his quiet strength.
“You’re distracted,” Eric said suddenly, his voice breaking into my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Long day.”
“Let’s fix that,” he said, signaling the bartender for another round. “How about we go somewhere quieter after this?”
I hesitated, knowing I shouldn't agree to go with a stranger but I wanted to forget about Tim.
His charm had a rehearsed quality, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something about Eric felt... off.
But I pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to my overactive imagination.
“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile
Eric’s apartment was in a run-down building on the outskirts of the city.
The moment I stepped inside, unease crept up my spine.
The place was sparse, too sparse, and smelled faintly of chemicals.
“Nice place,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“Thanks,” Eric replied, locking the door behind us.
When I turned to face him, his expression had changed. The easy smile was gone, replaced by something darker.
“You’re a cop, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.
I froze. Not understanding why that was important. “What?”
“I saw your badge the other night,” he said, stepping closer.
My heart raced. “Eric, I think you’re confused—”
Before I could finish, he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.
“You cops think you’re so smart,” he snarled. “Always sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”
“Let go of me,” I said, trying to pull away.
He didn’t. Instead, he shoved me against the wall, his hand clamping over my mouth.
“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.
Panic surged through me as he dragged me toward a side door. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but he was too strong.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was the glint of a syringe in his hand.
When I woke up, my head throbbed, and my body felt heavy. I was in a dark, cold room, my hands bound and my mouth gagged.
Eric stood over me, a twisted smile on his face.
“Slept well, officer?” he taunted.
I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“You thought you could mess with me?” he continued, pacing. “Well, now you’re going to see what happens when people cross me.”
He opened a barrel in the corner of the room, the metallic smell making my stomach churn.
“No one’s coming for you,” he said, lifting me effortlessly and shoving me inside.
As the lid closed, plunging me into darkness, I fought to stay calm. I couldn’t die here. Not like this.
Meanwhile, Tim paced through the station, his instincts churning. Something was wrong.
He couldn't explain it, but the nagging feeling in his gut had only grown stronger since Y/N hadn’t responded to his messages.
It wasn’t like her to leave him hanging, and she always checked in after her shifts or when she went out.
He tried to push the thought aside, she was a grown woman, capable and strong, but it wouldn’t leave him.
Tim knew her routines, and her habits, and something didn’t add up. He checked his phone again.
Nothing.
“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling over.
Back at his desk, Tim pulled out his phone and shot her another text:
“You home safe?”
The minutes ticked by, and there was no response.
He told himself she was probably asleep or didn’t hear her phone. She always replied, though. Always.
Another text: “Y/N, call me when you get this.”
Tim stared at the screen, waiting, the worry clawing at him now. He scrolled through their recent messages, trying to reassure himself.
Her last text had been earlier in the evening: “Heading out now. Have fun working your long shift!”
It sounded normal. Casual. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
He stepped out into the hallway and called her phone. It rang and rang before going to voicemail.
“Y/N, it’s me. Call me back when you get this, alright? Just… let me know you’re okay.”
He hung up, his chest tightening. Something was definitely wrong.
Tim called her again, then again, but there was no answer.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth.
He decided to start with the basics. Heading to Grey’s office, Tim knocked and stepped in without waiting for an answer.
“Bradford, what can I do for you?” Grey asked, looking up from his paperwork.
“Have you seen Y/L/N? She didn’t come back to the station tonight, did she?” Tim asked, keeping his tone steady, though his mind was racing.
Grey shook his head. “No, she clocked out on time. Why?”
Tim hesitated. “No reason just hadn’t heard from her. Thought she might’ve stayed late.”
“Everything okay?” Grey’s perceptive gaze lingered.
“Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.” Tim turned and left the office, though his gut told him otherwise.
Tim strode into the bullpen, where Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper were deep in conversation over their laptops.
“Have either of you heard from Y/N?” Tim asked abruptly.
Angela looked up, frowning. “Not since this morning. Didn’t she have a date tonight?”
The word date hit Tim like a punch. “Do you know where?”
Angela shook her head. “She didn’t say much, just that it was someone new she met online. Why?”
Tim’s jaw tightened. “She’s not answering her phone.”
Nyla set her coffee down, her sharp instincts immediately kicking in. “How long has it been?”
“Hours,” Tim admitted, his frustration evident. “She always checks in. This isn’t like her.”
Angela exchanged a glance with Nyla.
“Alright,” Nyla said, standing up.
“Let’s figure this out. You said she had a date, does she use any apps? Maybe tech can pull her messages.”
Angela nodded. “She mentioned using something, but I don’t remember the name. Let’s get tech on it.”
Angela grabbed her phone, calling tech support while Nyla placed a calming hand on Tim’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her, Bradford,” she said firmly. “You know Y/N, she’s tough. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
Tim didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tightly.
The bullpen was full of people and their voices, but to Tim, the noise was a distant hum.
His focus was razor-sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached.
He loomed behind the tech analyst’s desk, the tension radiating off him making the others keep their distance.
Angela and Nyla exchanged concerned glances nearby, but no one dared to interrupt him.
“Anything yet?” he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.
The analyst flinched slightly but kept typing. “I’m pulling her dating app data now. It’s just taking a moment to decrypt the server.”
Tim’s fists clenched at his sides. Every second felt like a lifetime.
Y/N was out there, somewhere, and the thought of her being in danger gnawed at him like a vice around his chest.
Finally, the analyst straightened. “Got something!”
Tim surged forward, leaning over the desk as the analyst brought up a profile on the screen.
“She was messaging a guy named Eric Dawson,” the analyst explained, scrolling through the messages.
“They had arranged to meet at a bar in Eagle Rock.”
Tim’s heart pounded. “What bar?”
“Solana’s Tavern,” the analyst replied.
Nyla crossed her arms, her brow furrowed.
“That area’s rough. Not exactly where you take someone on a first date.”
Tim’s chest tightened further. “Pull traffic cams from outside the bar. I need to know if she made it there and if she left.”
The analyst nodded and got to work, typing furiously. The tension in the room was suffocating as everyone watched the screen in silence.
Tim paced behind the desk, every step heavy with barely restrained anxiety.
“Tim,” Angela said softly, approaching him.
“Maybe you should take a beat. Let us handle this.”
He spun around, his eyes blazing. “No. She’s counting on me. I’m not sitting this one out.”
Angela held up her hands in surrender, backing off.
“Got it!” the analyst said, breaking the silence.
Footage from a traffic camera outside the bar flickered onto the screen.
They watched as Y/N appeared, her expression hesitant as she walked into the bar.
“There she is,” Angela said, pointing at the screen.
Tim leaned closer, his eyes locked on the image of Y/N.
He barely noticed how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the desk.
The analyst fast-forwarded the footage, scanning for her exit. About an hour later, Y/N appeared again, walking out with a man.
The guy had his hand on her arm, his grip firm, his body language all wrong.
“She doesn’t look comfortable,” Nyla said, her voice low.
“He’s leading her. She’s not willingly going with him.”
Tim’s stomach churned. “Run his plates,” he snapped, his tone sharp.
The analyst zoomed in on the car the man guided Y/N towards, pulling up the plate number.
Seconds later, the vehicle’s registration information appeared.
“The car is registered to an address just outside the city,” the analyst said.
“A warehouse on the outskirts of town.”
“That’s it,” Tim said, already moving.
He grabbed his vest and radio. “Gear up. We’re heading there now.”
“Tim,” Grey’s voice called, cutting through the chaos.
Tim stopped but didn’t turn around.
“You need to stay focused,” Grey said firmly, stepping closer.
“I know how much this means to you, but if you’re too emotional, you’ll compromise the operation.”
Tim turned, his eyes hard. “With all due respect sir but again, I’m not sitting this one out.”
Grey studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But keep your head on straight. She’s counting on you, and I can't afford to lose one of my best officers.”
Tim nodded sharply, strapping on his vest.
“Let’s move,” he said to Angela and Nyla, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With the rest of the team following behind.
The warehouse loomed in the distance, a decrepit shell of concrete and rust that felt suffocating even from the outside.
Tim’s heart pounded in his chest as he and the team moved in silently, weapons drawn.
Every instinct screamed at him to hurry, but he forced himself to stay focused.
This wasn’t just another rescue mission. This was Y/N. His Y/N.
And he was barely holding it together.
They moved through the darkened halls, their flashlights sweeping over scattered debris and abandoned machinery.
The air was thick with the smell of oil and mildew, but there was something else, a faint metallic tang that Tim couldn’t quite place.
It turned his stomach.
“Clear,” Angela said, her voice steady as they swept one room after another.
Tim’s jaw clenched. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and with each empty room, the knot in his chest tightened.
“Over here!” Nolan’s voice cut through the tense silence.
Tim turned, his flashlight catching the glint of something metallic in the corner of the room. A row of barrels.
“No...” he whispered, his legs moving before his brain could catch up.
The closer he got, the stronger the smell became, an acrid mix of chemicals and fear.
He dropped to his knees in front of the nearest barrel, his hands trembling as he pried the lid off.
Empty.
He moved to the next one, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Bradford,” Angela said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“No!” he snapped, shaking her off. “I’m not stopping.”
The third barrel was heavier. He could feel it as he pulled at the lid, his muscles straining. And then it came loose.
Tim’s flashlight illuminated the inside, and his entire world shattered.
It was her.
Y/N was curled inside, her body limp, her skin pale and clammy. Her wrists were bound, the rope digging so deeply into her skin that blood had dried in angry, red streaks.
Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling so faintly he almost missed it.
“Y/N!” he choked, dropping his flashlight and reaching in to pull her out.
“Get a medic!” Angela yelled, her voice distant as Tim focused solely on Y/N.
He cradled her against his chest, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak.
“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stay with me.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But then her lips parted, and a barely audible whisper escaped.
“Tim...”
Relief surged through him, hot and overwhelming.
“I’m here,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Her head lolled against his chest, and he tightened his grip, as if holding her closer could somehow shield her from everything she’d been through.
The paramedics arrived moments later, but to Tim, it felt like hours.
He reluctantly let them take her, his hands still hovering as if afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t keep touching her.
As they loaded her into the ambulance, Angela placed a hand on his shoulder again. This time, he didn’t shrug it off.
“You did good,” she said softly.
He didn’t answer. All he could think about was the sight of her in that barrel, the life nearly drained out of her.
And how he never wanted to feel that kind of fear again.
The first thing I felt was pain, dull, throbbing, and constant pain.
It was everywhere, but especially in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe deeply without it stabbing me from the inside.
My eyes fluttered open, and I was greeted by a blinding white light that made me squeeze them shut again.
I tried to move, but my body protested. My throat was dry, my lips cracked.
“Y/N?”
The voice was soft, deep, and familiar. I forced my eyes open again, squinting, and slowly turned my head toward the sound.
“Tim…” I croaked, barely above a whisper.
He was right there, leaning forward in the stiff hospital chair like he’d been glued to it for hours.
His hands were gripping mine tightly, and his face was a mixture of relief and worry.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady.
His eyes softened as they roamed over my face like he couldn’t believe I was actually there.
“Where am I?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“You’re in the hospital,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You’re safe now. We found you.”
The memories started flooding back. The date. The man. Everything.
My heart rate spiked, and the beeping from the monitor beside me quickened.
“The barrel…” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the cold, the suffocating darkness, and the terror that had gripped me when I thought I’d never get out.
Tim’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me.
“It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he said firmly, his voice laced with a quiet rage.
“I thought… I thought I was going to die,” I admitted, my voice trembling.
Tim’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer. “You didn’t. You fought, Y/N. You held on long enough for us to get to you. And I swear, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I won’t let it.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks as I looked at him.
His face etched with so much emotion that it was hard to believe this was the same Tim Bradford who kept his feelings so close to his chest.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He shook his head, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Don’t thank me. Just… promise me you’ll be more careful. No more dates with guys like that.”
I let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.
The drive back to my place was quiet. Tim insisted on taking me home himself after I got discharged.
I didn’t have the energy to argue. My ribs ached with every bump in the road, and the painkillers they’d given me at the hospital were starting to wear off.
When we got to my place, I reached for the door handle, but Tim was faster.
He was already out of the car and opening my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.
“You don’t have to hover, you know,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice.
“You’ve barely been out of the hospital for a day,” he shot back, ignoring my attempt to downplay things.
“I’m not taking any chances.”
I didn’t argue. Honestly, I didn’t want to be alone.
Inside, Tim helped me settle on the couch, propping me up with pillows and making sure I had everything within arm’s reach: water, my phone, and even the remote for the TV.
“Comfortable?” he asked, standing in front of me with his arms crossed.
“Yes, officer Bradford,” I teased, giving him a tired smile.
He smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the faint clatter of dishes.
A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me carefully. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become so domestic?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down in the armchair across from me.
We sat in silence for a while, the tension between us thick and unspoken.
I sipped my tea, glancing at him occasionally, and each time I did, I caught him staring at me like he was afraid I might disappear.
“You know,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”
Tim frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. End of discussion.”
There was a finality in his tone that told me arguing would be pointless. Still, I couldn’t help but ask,
“Why?”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.
“Because I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly.
Something in his voice made my chest tighten. “Tim…”
“I thought I lost you,” he said, cutting me off.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, all the walls he kept so carefully constructed were gone.
“Do you know what it felt like, finding you like that? You were barely breathing, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things on this job, but nothing ever scared me like that.”
I set the cup down, my hands trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. But I can’t—” He stopped, his voice breaking.
“I can’t go through that again.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice.
“I’m still here, Tim,” I said softly.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. You are.”
Later that evening,
The room was quiet, the soft hum of the TV filling the background.
I was cocooned in a blanket, my body still aching, but the dull pain was nothing compared to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
Tim was sitting close, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his presence steady and comforting.
Without thinking, I shifted closer, leaning my head against his shoulder.
It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was, but it felt natural like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Tim didn’t move. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel him tense slightly under my touch.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.
I lifted my head, glancing at him in confusion. “For what?”
“For everything.” His eyes were fixed on the TV, but he wasn’t really watching it.
“For not seeing the signs. For not protecting you. For letting this happen to you.”
“Tim…” I reached out, placing my hand lightly on his arm.
“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”
He finally turned to look at me, his blue eyes swirling with guilt, and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words.
“That’s not all I’m sorry for.”
A knot formed in my stomach. “What do you mean?”
Tim hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.
Then, he shifted, turning his body toward me fully. “I’ve been holding something back. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”
My heart began to race. I swallowed hard. “Tim…”
He shook his head, cutting me off gently. “Just… let me finish.” He took a deep breath.
“When I saw you in that barrel, when I thought I might lose you, I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself. About you. About us.”
His words hit me like a freight train, and I struggled to find my voice. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” He paused, his voice soft but steady.
“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it because I thought it would mess everything up. The job. Us. But after what happened…”
His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability breaking through. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t lose you without you knowing how I feel.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the noise of the TV, of the world.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky laugh.
“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” I whispered.
Tim’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could overthink them.
“I’ve been going on those dates to forget about you.”
His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face. “What?”
“I thought…” My voice cracked, and I looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
“I thought you’d never feel the same way. I thought if I distracted myself and forced myself to move on, I could stop feeling this way about you. But it never worked. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Tim.”
Silence settled between us, heavy and charged. Then, Tim let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should’ve told me.”
“I was scared,” I admitted, finally looking up at him.
“Scared of ruining what we have. Scared of losing you.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.
He reached up, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Not now. Not ever.”
I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with relief, with joy, with everything I’d been holding back for so long.
“You mean that?”
“Every word,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.
Slowly, he leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat.
He gave me every opportunity to pull away, to stop him, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to.
When his lips finally met mine, it was soft and tentative at first, as if we were both still testing the waters.
But then it deepened, carrying months of unspoken emotions, of longing, of everything we’d tried so hard to ignore.
When we finally pulled apart, I let out a breathless laugh, leaning my forehead against his.
“That was a long time coming.”
“You’re telling me,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I pulled back slightly to look at him, my expression turning serious. “What happens now?”
He smiled softly, his eyes warm and filled with a rare tenderness.
“Now, we take it one day at a time. No rush. No pressure. But I promise you this: I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief, of happiness.
I smiled, leaning into his embrace as his arms wrapped securely around me.
“I think I can live with that,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.
And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I felt more at peace than I had in weeks.
Maybe even months. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain:
We’d face them together.
The end
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“tangina. putangina talaga.” the words fell from beau’s mouth, torn from somewhere deep in his chest. another wave of tears threatened to spill, gathering heavy at the corners of his eyes, blurring the screen he should’ve turned off minutes ago. he finally shut his phone, the light of yves’ public instagram profile blinking out, leaving him with nothing but his own reflection faint in the black glass: red-eyed and pathetic. he didn’t know how long he’d been staring at that post. it could’ve been two minutes or ten or thirty, it didn’t matter. the image was burned into him now. yves, perfectly posed, his lips pressed to santi’s cheek, santi with his arm around yves' waist and smiling like nothing had ever gone wrong, like beau hadn’t even existed in the story. it wasn’t right. it wasn’t healthy, the way he kept going back. kept checking. kept reopening wounds. but he couldn’t help it. fat tears slid down his cheeks, silent and unstoppable. none of it made sense—not when just a few weeks ago, santi had been curled up beside him, whispering sweet nothings in that deep voice that had once made beau feel like he was loved. beau had believed it. god, what a fucking fool he was. he’d let himself fall for it. for the kisses, for the food deliveries, for the warm hands and gentler mornings. he’d let himself hope, and that hope had bloomed into his chest like a flower, only to be crushed underfoot the second he realised he wasn’t the only one santi was saying those things to. he’d blocked santi that night he found out. deleted the chats, the photos, anything that could remind him of what they’d been. but he couldn’t stop looking at yves. couldn’t stop opening his profile. every photo yves posted of santi—their dinners, their smiles, it felt like another nail to the heart. another confirmation of how easy it was to be replaced. “palagi nalang,” he muttered bitterly, hand reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila without thinking. he poured himself another shot, barely watching as it sloshed into the glass. he downed it in one go. what hit him now was the nausea—not from the alcohol, but from the image still flashing behind his eyes. the one of santi kissing someone else like he hadn’t just told beau he was the only one. “fuck… ano ba 'to? hindi ba ako kamahal-mahal? hanggang placeholder nalang ba role ko?”
#sweet nothings mentioned ! BMSNDBMSDNCBSMDCNBSMND#pupunta c beau sa quiapo para sindihan c SANTI ng itim na kandila sna rw ma-konsensya xa sa ginawa niya#⠀⠀𐔌 𝒃𝑒𝑎𝑢 𝖺𝗁𝗇 : general ⁎#⠀⠀𐔌 𝒃𝑒𝑎𝑢 𝖺𝗁𝗇 : prose ⁎#⠀⠀𐔌 𝒗𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 : sweet nothings ⁎#⠀⠀𐔌 𝒔𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 : main ⁎#loveszip
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Why is Hannukah eight days if the oil was sufficient for one day? Day 6.
Today, I chose to cheat.
But why? Why would I build a system of rules for writing those posts only to break them myself later? Well, it's because history left me no choice! A bunch of people who held manuscripts of Sefer Ha'Itim have lost parts of it, and now the world suffers! But, a little background:
Sefer Ha'Itim by Rabbi Yehuda ben Barzillai Albargeloni (the Barcelonian) is an old Halachic book. And by old I mean old. There are apparently indications that it was written when the RIF (Rabbi Yitzhak Alfassi) was still alive when it was written, since there's never an addition of z"l after his name - unlike other deceased rabbis. That places it at around the 11th century CE, the beginning of the Rishonim era. So it's not too surprising that not all the book survived, especially since many of it's rulings weren't accepted. I think. I'm basing it on one particular ruling, which I'll get to later.
The book itself is about Halachot for time-dependant things - I suppose that would make it a rough equivalent of Tur Orach Chaim in the Shulchan Aruch, though this is a very common topic for books. I mean, if you deal with the daily, weekly, monthly and yearly Halachot... Well, people kind of need such books for their lives. Unlike Tur 'Hoshen Mishpat, which is about Halachot related to court (mostly monetary conflicts) and no one wants them to be relevant to them. Anyway, like most books, the topic is in the name: 'Itim means "times" in Hebrew, more or less. Not to be confused with 'etim, which means pens.
What remains from Sefer Ha'Itim, though, is just the Halachot related to Shabbat. Which is great if you want to know whether or not you're allowed to say HaKol Yoducha (ypu aren't, and it's really not fine that everyone still does - at least, that's what Rabbi Albargeloni thinks), but it's not as helpful if you want to know why Hannukah is eight days and not, say, seven.
Or nine.
Yeah, yeah, it turns a bit weird now and I really should stop throwing those random hints. His very interesting answer to why Hannukah is eight days is somewhat reminiscent of the reasoning the book of Maccabees gives in that it has nothing to do with the oil cruse miracle and everything to do with another thing that takes 8 days. In the case of the 'Itim, it's Brit Milah.
You see, among the things that happened during the time of Antiochus IV Epimanes that really annoyed the Hasmoneans, he gave a decree of three things practiced in Judaism that he forbade: keeping the Shabbat, declaring the renewal of the moon (which is essential for the Hebrew calendar - or was, until about 5 centuries later at the time of Hillel the 2nd, but that's a story for another day), and circumcising their sons. And in Judaism, circumcision is done on the 8th day to the birth of a child - if he's healthy enough for it, there are clauses for keeping the baby alive, but that's (again) another story. Naturally, the Hasmoneans spited him in all three, and when they rededicated the Temple, according to Sefer Ha'Itim, they declared an 8 day holiday to commemorate the resistance. Also, due to this length there's always a Shabbat yo be kept in Hannukah, and due to its particular date there's always a renewal of the moon during the holiday. It's occuring around today or tomorrow, actually! This night is going to be moonless, remember and take care.
So I cheated. I did not find the original source, though I now have Sefer Ha'Itim downloaded to my phone. I could scour it just in case, but I don't think it'll bear fruit.
The nine days things is all kinds of weird in and of itself - it's based on Yom Tov Sheni Shel Galuyot, and the obvious answer is it's something that only exists for Yom Tov. And wow, that has been longer than usual. Sorry.
#jumblr#judaism#jewblr#Hannukah#Why is hannukah eight days?#The beit yosef question#Sefer Ha'Itim#That one catalan rabbi from the time Catalonia was Muslim#As was the rest of spain#Or most of it#Some books were pretty much lost to history and it's really a pity#Maybe tomorrow I should see if the Me'iri has anything to say on the topic#To talk about books that were lost and found#Am I using this to nerd out a little about jewish religious literature?#If so you should be thankful I'm not half as obsessed with this topic as I could be#There is much that can be said on every book I've mentioned so far#The 'Itim in particular was of interest to me regarding Piyutim#As mentioned in the post he has... Odd opinions#Everybody says HaKol Yoducha nowadays#Even though it's very easy to see it's a piyut and not a regular part of the Brachah it's said in#And that is another thing I can nerd out about.#Anyway#Have a good day!
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Black Cat
#cats of tumblr#cats on tumblr#cats#black cat#gato negro#chat noir#gatto nero#zwarte kat#zwarte poes#черный кот#gato preto#itim na pusa#kucing hitam#czarny kot#siyah kedi#crna mačka#μαύρη γάτα#黑貓#काली बिल्ली#黒猫#검은 고양이#گربه سیاه#แมวดำ#svart katt#mèo đen#schwarze katze
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These ladies were only on their respective teams for a short while but that doesn't mean they weren't just as important as the ones who'd be there longer. Which tempoary team member did you like best?
#kamilla hwang#mona wu#alena whitlock#victoria park#ramona young#kacey rohl#look itime these lasses joined but I love Mona and I will protect her#cw the flash#arrow#dc legends of tomorrow#dctv
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im sorry im not as helpful as i want to be, im so dead tired.
#trying to want to be alive is a full time job but my phyusical and mental bullshit and my environment is shit.#im aware of what i got better compared to others tho i get itim just really#im tired.#shutupcici -
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NEET UG 2025 Provisional Answer Key: The National Testing Agency (NTA) published the provisional answer key for the National Eligibility-cum Entrance Test Undergraduate 2025 (NEET UG 2025) on June 3. Candidates who appeared this year in NEET UG examination can access the provisional answer key from the official website – neet.nta.nic.in. In addition to the NEET UG Provisional answer key for all question paper codes, the National Testing Agency has also made available scanned copies of individual response sheets.
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Tatiana Archer's Handwriting
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fun fact mspaint froze for a moment so i think that was divine intervention
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Hello!
Gem Vecino here, aka Alex Rosas for my works in PHR, and Psynoid Al for the rest.
this is my promotional page for my works :D
Hope you enjoy your stay! I'll be posting some of my short stories here as well :D
#freelance author#webnovel#writer#author#fantasy#lgbt#horror#comedy#abo#omegaverse#BlackInk#Precious Hearts Pages#Precious Hearts Romance#PHR#Librong Itim#PrideLit
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i am genuinely considering adding these as tags to my post inspired by my old deviantart journals. i cant believe i did this
#]]H0K0#QUEUE#06/18/23#its so fucking funny & novel & i want to bring it back.#i hope EVERY1 makes fun of me for it#FUCK ITim gonna do it in this post#How I'm Doing Right Now: Playful#Watching: Nothing#Eating: Nothing#Drinking: Water#Reading: Nothing#Playing: Nothing#Listening To: TV#it's so bad i lvoe it#i still had to look up an emotion chart cuz idk how to access my feelings GOD#idk how often ill do this but its so funny & cringe i love it#V0ID TRAP . . .
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STOP IT JUST CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD CAUSE IM SO GENENUT STARVED 🥀🥀🥀 and temples there too i guess
red vs blue connections
easy
normal
hard
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hi moot !! 💜 can you please give a tutorial on how you got your background to be an image, how you changed the font, and how you changed the color on rentry! please and thank you so much!



Sure!
Open the '+metadata ' option

and paste this (full thing under cut)
ACCESS_RECOMMENDED_THEME = dark
CONTAINER_MAX_WIDTH = 450px
CONTAINER_INNER_BACKGROUND_COLOR = (used: grey)
CONTAINER_OUTER_BACKGROUND_IMAGE = (insert image link)
CONTAINER_OUTER_BACKGROUND_IMAGE_POSITION = center
CONTAINER_OUTER_BACKGROUND_IMAGE_SIZE = 100%
CONTAINER_BORDER_COLOR = (used: #000000)
CONTAINER_BORDER_WIDTH = 5px
CONTAINER_BORDER_STYLE = dashed
CONTENT_FONT = (insert font, the one I used was called: itim)
CONTENT_TEXT_COLOR = (used: #000000)
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haiii :> i wanted to draw one of my fav album covers withh asuka nd the GANG and i finally finished itim actually super happy with the results.ok now listen to Opus dei or i will kill you
#my art#guilty gear#asuka r kreutz#guilty gear asuka#asuka guilty gear#xrd#ggxrd#guilty gear xrd#guilty gear fanart#guilty gear strive#ggst#ggstrive#guilty gear valentine#jack o valentine#jack o#guilty gear jack o#jack o guilty gear#i no#i no guilty gear#guilty gear i no#raven guilty gear#guilty gear raven#fanart#album covers#album art#redraw#digital art#digital drawing#digital#digital artist
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If Zac sat in the DM chair, and Zac gave us air-itime law, does that mean he has technically fulfilled the DM avatar prophecy?
#dimension 20#fhjy#zac oyama#fantasy high#d20 fantasy high#fantasy high spoilers#brennan lee mulligan#aabria iyengar#matt mercer
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