Lifes Fucked.. So Find Things That Make It Better

Side blog/ multi-fandom

[residentheartache]

Family

Pairing Tim Bradford x Wife!reader

Word count 1332

Summary — Tim loves his family (idk even know summaries are hard)

A/n— this was supposed to post weeks ago I had it queued and it never posted??????

The reception had loud music drifting through the open ballroom doors in uneven waves, mixing with laughter and the clink of champagne glasses. Somewhere near the dance floor, Smitty was loudly insisting he knew the choreography to some early 2000s song while half the John’s and Bailey’s wedding guests watched him absolutely butcher it.

Warm string lights glowed overhead, swaying softly in the summer breeze every time someone passed through the garden doors. The entire venue felt alive. Messy and loud and happy in the way weddings always somehow became after enough dancing and open bar access.

And through all of it, Tim Bradford only had eyes for his girls. Your daughter had spent the entire evening running herself into exhaustion. One minute she’d been twirling with Lucy in the middle of the dance floor, the next she’d somehow convinced Nolan to help her steal extra macarons from the dessert table.

At some point she’d started collecting loose flower petals from the centerpieces in the tiny satin purse she insisted was “very important.”

Now, though, the crash was finally hitting.

She sat curled in Tim’s lap at your table, tiny fist rubbing against one sleepy eye while the other barely stayed open. Her curls had long since escaped the clips you fixed before the ceremony, soft strands sticking to her flushed cheeks from dancing.

“She’s crashing,” you murmured, leaning lightly against Tim’s shoulder.

Tim looked down immediately.

And just like always, the second he looked at her, something inside him softened.

The hard edges disappeared.

The constant awareness in his posture eased.

Even his eyes changed.

It happened every single time.

“Hey, bug,” he said quietly, brushing a curl away from her face. “You hanging in there?”

“I’m not sleepy,” she mumbled instantly.

You snorted into your champagne.

Tim’s mouth twitched. “Really? Because you can barely sit upright.”

“Nooo.”

The word dissolved into a yawn halfway through. You smiled into your glass while Tim adjusted her automatically against his chest, settling her head beneath his chin so she could get comfortable.

The movement was effortless now like he’d been doing this forever. And honestly, that still got to you sometimes because there had been a time when Tim was terrified of becoming a father. Not terrified of loving her. He’d been terrified of failing her.

You remembered those nights vividly. Lying awake beside him in your tiny apartment while he stared at the ceiling, voice quieter than usual as he admitted things he normally kept buried.

How his father had ruined the idea of family for him. How anger felt inherited sometimes. How he worried one day he’d become too harsh without meaning to And you remembered taking his hand and telling him softly:

“The fact that you’re scared of hurting our kid already means you won’t.”

After that, Tim loved your daughter with almost painful carefulness.

He learned everything about raising a girl from how to braid hair after watching tutorials for three straight nights. How to pack lunches without forgetting snacks. How to survive glitter-heavy tea parties that somehow always ended with him wearing plastic jewelry.

He read parenting books like tactical manuals. Installed the car seat six separate times because “the angle looked off.”

Nearly got into an argument with a pediatrician after vaccines because your daughter cried for less than thirty seconds and Tim looked ready to throw hands over it.

And God, he loved her. In every tiny thing he did.

“Daddy,” your daughter whispered sleepily now, poking at the watch on his wrist. “Can we go outside?”

Tim looked toward you automatically.

You smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

He nodded once before standing carefully, keeping one steady arm around her while she wrapped herself around his side like a sleepy little koala.

The second her feet touched the floor, though, she reached for his hand.

Tim took it immediately.

Your chest physically ached at the sight because his hand completely swallowed hers. Big and rough from years on the job, wrapped carefully around something impossibly small and precious.

You watched them disappear toward the garden path together. Your daughter waddled sleepily beside him while Tim unconsciously shortened his stride to match hers.

Lucy appeared beside you, following your line of sight with a smile.

“He’s ridiculous with her,” she murmured.

You laughed softly. “You should see him at home.”

Lucy grinned into her drink. “Oh, I can imagine.”

No.

Most people really couldn’t.

They didn’t see Tim kneeling beside your daughter’s bed after nightmares until she fell asleep again.

Didn’t see him carrying her through grocery stores on his shoulders because “she likes the view better up there.”

Didn’t see the way he checked on both of you three times a night when she was a newborn because he was terrified something would happen while he slept.

They didn’t know Tim Bradford, the same man rookies found terrifying had cried the first time your daughter called him daddy.

Actually cried.

You’d walked into the nursery at two in the morning and found him sitting in the rocking chair holding her against his chest while tears streamed silently down his face because she reached for him first.

You swore something inside you permanently rearranged after that. Outside, your daughter tugged lightly on Tim’s hand.

You could hear her little voice drifting back through the warm night air.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“When I get bigger…” she started sleepily, “will you still hold my hand?”

Tim stopped walking even though you stood several feet away, you saw the way his expression changed.

the question hit him somewhere deep. He crouched slowly in front of her, one knee pressing against the stone pathway while he fixed the crooked flower clip slipping from her curls.

“Kid,” he said softly, voice rough around the edges, “I’ll hold your hand as long as you let me.”

Your daughter considered that very seriously.

Then nodded once.

“Okay.”

Like that solved every problem in the world. Tim smiled helplessly before kissing the top of her head. And that was the exact moment your emotions completely betrayed you.

Your vision blurred instantly.

Beside you, Lucy gasped dramatically.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re crying.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

You laughed wetly, wiping beneath your eyes. “I just—” your voice cracked embarrassingly, “look at them.”

Out on the pathway, your daughter leaned sleepily against Tim’s leg while his thumb brushed absentmindedly over the back of her tiny hand loving her was as natural as breathing. Tim glanced back toward the reception finally and caught you staring.

His brows lifted immediately. “Are you crying?”

You pointed accusingly toward your daughter. “She started it.” Lucy barked out a laugh. Tim rolled his eyes affectionately before holding his free hand out toward you.

No words.

Just that look.

Come here.

So you did.

You walked toward them slowly, heels clicking softly against the stone until Tim’s fingers wrapped around yours the second you got close enough. Your daughter yawned dramatically between you both.

“Mama carry me?”

“You just made Daddy carry you for an hour.”

“But I missed you.”

Tim smirked instantly. “Manipulation. Definitely learned that from you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Still, you bent to scoop her into your arms.

She melted against your chest immediately with a sleepy sigh, little arms wrapping around your neck while Tim’s hand settled automatically against your lower back.

And for a moment, everything else faded.

The music.

The crowd.

The noise from inside.

Your little family beneath glowing garden lights. Your daughter is half asleep against your shoulder. Tim beside you with that soft expression the rest of the world rarely got to see.

“You know,” you murmured quietly, looking over at him, “you’re a really good dad.”

Tim looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening slightly like compliments still made him uncomfortable after all this time.

But his arm slid more firmly around your waist And quietly so quietly you almost missed it he said, “Got a pretty good family to do it with.”

[drafts481]

Hii! Can I request a Tim Bradford x reader fic pls? Reader is the hostage of a bomber. She's sent into the police station with a bomb locked on her. The cops have to figure out how to get it off of her before the station blows up. She's terrified and no one wants to be near her. Tim steps up and tries to calm her down from a panic attack, and stays by her side while they diffuse the bomb.

The Hostage Situation

Tim Bradford x f!reader

Main Masterlist The Rookie Masterlist

(Picture is NOT mine, it's from Pinterest)

A/n: thank you sm for the request, I hope you like it 💕

It was supposed to be an easy job, some quick money. But that quick money turned into quick chaos.

You'd found the job on a list on a marketplace with a time, date, place and how much you'd he paid. So youd shown up, mostly just to check it out. An hour later you were in the back of a truck with 4 other people.

"Who wants a raise?" Someone up front asked in a taunting tone, and when no one answered they picked you. They strapped a bomb onto your chest, gave you a script and showed you the 'Deadmans switch'.

They dropped you off outside and drove off before you'd been able to see the license plate. As you walk inside of Midwilshire police station, people part to make way.

"I am not here out of free will, everyone will get hurt. The people demand 3 million dollars or your precious station will say boom." You read out loud when you got to the front. Before you had even finished your sentence, 3 police officers had identified themselves and sat you down, while others had started evacuating non essential people.

"Where do you know they from?" "I don't." "Where are they?" "Down the road." "How many are there?" "4 other civilians." You answered all their questions as good as you could but you could see the hesitation on some of the officers' faces. You knew not all of them trusted you.

You started hyperventilating, but trying to keep it quiet, you were getting enough stares as it was you didnt also need pity. Everyone felt like they were a mile away, until someone touched your shoulder.

"Water?" He handed you a bottle, "I'm sergeant Bradford. Can you take a deep breath for me?" He helped you through some breathing exercises and once you had calmed down you thanked him.

"This is a crazy way to meet, huh?" You nodded, it sure was.

[drafts481]

Meet Cute

Tim Bradford x reader

Main Masterlist The Rookie Masterlist

(Picture is NOT mine, it's from Pinterest)

"Do you ever think about the fact I might've never met you if it weren't for my brother? I mean leave it to my brother to introduce me to the man of my dreams... y'know?" You said, thinking out loud.

Technically it was true, you'd met three years ago after your brother got arrested. Tim had been the one to pick him up, you were just pulling into the driveway as your brother was being placed in the back.

And that's when you met Tim, all moody and Bradfordy. You'd been confused, now knowing your brother was a criminal, a stupid one at that, had answered a lot of questions you didn't even know y had.

A couple days after the arrest of your brother, Tim was called to your neighbors house, so you'd met again and from there on out, it was like you ran into each other everywhere, in and out of uniform.

Welfare check? You were having tea with the daughter. Grocery store? He now knew what cereal brand you ate.

So yes technically you wouldn't have met, had it not been for your brother. But the reason you were together had nothing to do with him.

[drafts481]

Opposites Attract

Tim Bradford x reader

Main Masterlist The Rookie Masterlist

(Pictures are NOT mine, they're from Pinterest)

No one knew you and Tim were dating. You'd tried telling one of colleagues once but they just laughed. You tried again a couple weeks later because it was Tim's birthday soon, and you needed a birthday present for him.

The answer you got wasn't gift ideas, it was who you thought was your best friend telling you that your joke had gone too far, that it wasn't healthy to keep lying to yourself.

After that you kind of just stopped talking, no mention of date nights or birthday gifts or funny things you'd done with your nephews. Tim noticed you stopped but didn't think much of it.

Until one day, he overheard your coworkers talking and joking about you.

"You hear about the time she 'got a call from Tim' while he was gone during a mission" "I heard she got him 'a new blender' for their apartment" "She said she'd been hanging out with his nephews. Like... every weekend." "I'm concerned for her."

They all thought you were lying. None of them had believed you, simply for the reason that you two were so different and it was only you that were talking about the relationship.

But you know firsthand, how opposites really do attract.

[drafts481]

Toxic Masculinity

Tim Bradford x pregnant!reader

Main Masterlist The Rookie Masterlist

(Picture is NOT mine, it's from Pinterest)

Timothy Bradford does not cry.

Not when he got shot, not when his sister moved away, not when his dad got arrested.

It’s not that he doesn’t know that he’s allowed to cry, allowed to show emotion. He simply can’t, no matter how much it hurts him he can’t show emotion, at least not in front of other people.

But when you after years of infertility issues and false positives, has been feeling off for the past couple weeks, but you’re not ready for the disappointment of finding out you’re not actually pregnant.

One day while Tim is at work you end up going to the doctor without telling him, you need to know whether or not you’re going crazy.

So when the doctor looks at the ultrasound machine with a small smile on her face you can't help but feel excited. She informs you that you are officially 13 weeks pregnant dropping the chances of miscarriage to 1 to 5 percent.

On your way home from you can't stop the happy tears from running down your cheeks, stopping at the store to buy a little baby onesie.

Tim comes home while you're in the bathroom, as he sets his bag on the floor beside the bed. When he looks up he sees the half finished setup with the baby onesie.

When you come back into the room you see him starring at the bed, you mumble something about how it was supposed to be a surprise. But when you look at his face, he's crying. "You mean it? You're really pregnant?"

[sabrinajenre96]

Title: “Three’s Company”

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Wife!Reader

Featuring: Kojo the bulldog mix, Lucy Chen

---

The first time Tim saw the dog, it was sitting on the front seat of Lucy’s car, tongue lolling out, happy as can be.

“He’s not staying,” Tim grunted, arms crossed, frown deepening.

Lucy cringed. “Look, I thought I could handle it—after Caleb, I just… needed something to ground me. But Kojo needs more than I can give him right now.”

The dog—Kojo—let out a snort and hopped out of the car, waddling right up to Tim like they were old friends.

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Great. He likes me.”

“More than me,” Lucy muttered, guilt in her voice. “But… I don’t want to send him to a shelter. He deserves better.”

And somehow, that was how Kojo ended up in the passenger seat of Tim’s truck, staring out the window like it was the best day of his life.

Tim didn’t want a dog. He barely wanted lunch most days. But the dog obeyed him better than some rookies he’d trained. No barking. No accidents. Just… loyalty. Annoyingly persistent loyalty.

When he got home for lunch—on your rare day off—Kojo followed him inside like he already had the key.

You stood in the kitchen, barefoot, coffee in one hand and wearing his hoodie. “Hey babe,” you said sweetly, eyes landing on the dog behind him. “Who’s this?”

Tim sighed. “This is Kojo. Lucy’s. Was Lucy’s. Now he’s—”

“Ours,” you interrupted, kneeling and letting Kojo lick your face enthusiastically. “We’re keeping him. No questions asked.”

Tim stared. “Babe—”

You pointed at him. “No. You brought a dog into this house. Into my kitchen. He’s claimed the rug. You’re outnumbered.”

Kojo let out a soft bark of approval.

---

Two Weeks Later

Tim adjusted faster than he’d admit. Kojo was a surprisingly good jogging partner and seemed to understand “stay out of the crime scene evidence” better than some new recruits.

You, on the other hand, took to dog mom life like you’d been born for it. Kojo slept at the foot of the bed, had his own drawer in the kitchen for treats, and sat like a gentleman whenever you gave commands.

He did, however, try to eat Tim’s boots once. There was growling. From both sides.

“You trained cops. You can train a dog,” you told Tim, brushing Kojo’s fur as he pouted. “He just needs structure.”

“I am structure,” Tim muttered.

---

One Month Later

Tim came home from a double shift to find Kojo asleep with his head in your lap while you read a case file.

You looked up, eyes soft. “He waited at the door for you for two hours.”

Tim dropped his bag and sighed. “He’s softening me. I can feel it. He’s ruining my rep.”

You grinned. “You’re not that grumpy.”

Kojo let out a snore.

Tim crossed his arms. “Traitor.”

---

Epilogue:

Kojo became an unofficial mascot at Mid-Wilshire. Chen smiled every time she saw him. Nolan made him a badge.

When you and Tim hosted a BBQ for the team, Kojo proudly wore an LAPD vest that said K9 (Kind of).

Tim rolled his eyes, but he scratched behind Kojo’s ears when no one was looking.

You caught him once. He shrugged. “He’s family now.”

You kissed his cheek. “Told you.”

Kojo barked. Tim groaned.

Three’s company.

[loomiseater]

Hii!!! Can you do a Tim Bradford x reader where we are trying to get pregnant so its just a whole day in the life of sneaking quickies? Reader could be a cop or not. Maybe a lawyer. Thank you! (please lots of praise)

SO YOU GONNA MAKE A BABY WITH ME OR WHAT?

warnings: smut ofc! slight breeding kink, quickies, cream pies, and piv.

Tim Bradford x Fem!Reader

Navigation

Request page

Masterlist

The Rookie masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long for me to answer 🫩 but I hope u enjoy! Ummm I just realized I forgot to add praise so I will be editing this soon!😃

wc: 1,674

I had finally got done with getting ready for work, just as I was touching up with some perfume, my husband came up to me from behind. 

“You look good, baby.” Tim complemented as he crouched down some to place his chin on my shoulder. I simply rolled my eyes at his attempt to get some this earlier. 

“What? I can’t compliment my wife?” He asked as his hand lowered to my ass and started running his hand over it. This man can’t be anymore obvious. “Babe,” I started off as he hummed in response. “I just got done getting dressed and I have to be out the door in less than 20 minutes.” I finished.

He groaned and threw his head back at my words. “You act like I need more than 20 minutes to make you cum.” He shot back. I couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’re laughing but I’m dead serious.” Tim stated. 

His hand was still rubbing my ass as I made eye contact with him in the mirror in front of us. “All you had to do was ask.” I whispered. That was all the conformation he needed before he turned my body around and picked me up. 

My legs wrapped around his waist as he took me in for a kiss. It was fast and desperate. He squeezed my ass which made me moan, he took that as an opening to stick his tongue in my mouth. My hands made their way to his hair and pulled at it as he groaned.

He then threw me on the bed and started to slide my pants off. His eyes never left mine as he quickly took my panties off. His hand went to rubbing my clit while his other hand went to sliding his pants off.

His thumb rubbed over my clit and I felt myself starting to get wet but I was also impatient, I needed him inside me so bad. “Hurry up!” I whined as he chuckled at me. “I was trying to prep you but if you insist.” He happily said.

He moved his thumb from my clit and grabbed his dick before shoving it inside. I was completely regretting telling him to hurry. The stretch was a little painful. “Oh fuck!” I moaned. Tim sucked in some air as he looked down where we connected. “You make me wanna bust everytime I enter you.” He said. I let out a giggle but that was quickly replaced once he started thrusting inside me.

His thrusts were rushed and sloppy, he knew we didn’t have a lot of time. My walls were gripping tightly on his dick, Tim was trying to keep his moans to himself but he couldn’t. “Shit, baby you’re about to make me cum.” He groaned. 

My eyes were rolled to the back of my head as Tim kept thrusting into me. He lowered his face into the crook of my neck as my nails dug into his back. His dick was just poking that spot inside me that made me want to cum on the spot. 

“I’m almost there.” I breathlessly stated. “Me too, baby, me too.” He softly added. The second Tim rolled his hips into me, my legs began to shake. It was like I was losing control of my body. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” I squealed. 

My back arched off the bed as my orgasm washed over me, I didn’t even realize that he was cumming too. His cum was spilling out of me and onto my thighs. 

We were both left breathless as Tim laid on top of me. Just as I was about to relax and enjoy these last few minutes, I heard my alarm ring from my phone signaling that it was time for me to head out the door.  

“Ugh!” Tim groaned. “Perfect..just perfect.” I sarcastically said. Tim had got off me and stood to his feet, just as I was about to get up he quickly stopped me. “Woah, woah! The hell are you doing?!” He questioned. 

I gave him a confused look. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get ready for my job.” I shot back. Tim shook his head as he pushed me flat on the bed and pushed my legs to my chest. This man is unbelievable. 

“You gotta keep your legs up so the sperm can flow easily.” He explained. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. 

“That’s a myth!” I argued. Tim threw his hands up in defeat. 

…

It was a slow day at my law firm today and I was getting pretty bored. I had about 4 more hours until the day was over. 

After finishing up some emails, I decided to leave my office and check up on my employees just to see what everyone’s up to. Just as I stepped out the door I bumped into someone’s chest. I looked up and saw that it was my husband. He was in his full police officer uniform. He looked so sexy.

“Babe? What’re you doing here?” I asked as he scooted back some to get a good look at me. “Just wanted to see what my wife was up to.” He shrugged before pushing me back into my office. I didn’t even bother to push back. I turned around as I heard the lock on my office door click. 

“Why’d you lock the door?” I asked. He gave me a teasing look with a tilt to his head. “I think you know why.” 

When he said that I instantly knew what he was talking about. I playfully shook my head at his words. “You little freak!” I squealed as I hit his chest. “Hey, if we’re trying for a baby then we gotta make every second count.” I Tim said. He had that smug look on his face that I wanted to wipe off. 

He pulled me closer to him by grabbing the waistband of my pants. He was towering over me as his eyes were focused on me. 

Tim had that deep, low, stern voice that made me wet instantly. “So you gonna make a baby with me or what?” 

I quickly shook my head at his words before he turned me around and bent me over my desk. I smiled to myself while he was pulling my pants down. “Been thinkin’ about you all mornin’ sweetheart.” Tim said as he placed a smack to my ass. I winced at the sting but it did feel good.

I could hear him taking off his duty belt and undoing his pants. “I been thinkin’ about you too, baby.” I added. Tim’s hand came up from behind and wrapped my hair around his arm for a tight grip as he pulled back some which made me gasp. “I’ve been thinkin’ about all the ways I’m gonna get you pregnant.” He groaned. 

I could feel his boner from behind me on my ass. I could even feel some of his pre-cum leaking. I was practically soaked from his touch. I looked behind me for a quick second and saw his belt on the floor and his pants to his ankles and his hand stroking his dick. 

When I turned back around I felt him tapping my folds with his dick. “So wet for me, baby.” He mumbled. I was squeezing my eyes shut, preparing for him to enter. 

With one thrust he was inside me, he damn near knocked the wind out of me. He pulled out of me and then pushed himself back in so I could adjust to his size. “Oh my gosh!” I whined to myself. Tim still had my hair wrapped around his arm as he thrusted into me. 

“You feel that dick inside of you, hmm?” He said. I tried to talk but I couldn’t, the pleasure was just too good. My ass was slapping agaisnt his pelvis as he was fucking me from behind. 

Tim was trying to be quiet but he was failing. His grunts were loud. I tried placing my head down on the desk but Tim quickly pulled me back up by my hair. “It’s too much!” I whined. I could hear him chuckling from behind me. “Good. I’m tryna get you pregnant.” He grunted.

My legs felt wobbly, the only thing keeping me stable was this desk and Tim holding me up. The claps of our skin was loud, you could probably hear it if you walked past my office. “Can’t wait to see you all round and full with my baby.” He whispered. 

My walls squeezed around his pulsing dick at his words. I wanted to give Tim a baby so bad. He would look so good being a daddy. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ I heard from behind me. Tim’s dick twitched inside me, I could feel the warmness of his seed being planted inside me. He gave me a couple of more thrusts and I came around him too with a loud moan. 

He let my hair go and I fell flat on the desk. I was out of breath and tired. His cum was mixed with mine and it was leaking down my thighs. 

“That was amazing, baby.” Tim said as he was catching his breath. “I bet it was.” I mumbled. There was a comforting silence between us, we both needed a second. When I turned around to look at him my eyes widened in fear. I was still laying on the desk because my legs were weak but my head was up. 

“Babe..” I started off. “Yeah?” He asked with a raised brow. “Your body cam! Is it on?” I asked in a panicked voice. “Oh shit!” He said as he hurried and snatched it off his uniform. He started pressing buttons on it trying to figure out if it was recording or not and I put my head back down on the desk with a whine. 

We are so screwed if that camera was recording this whole time.

[moonyswolfie]

It's Golden

Exam season is done and I am back. I decided to turn Put Your Lipstick On My Neck into a mini-series featuring moments, mostly domestic, from Tim and reader's life as a married couple. I'm not planning a specific number of fics ahead of time, as ideas are bound to pop up, so I'll just leave the masterlist open and add to it as inspiration comes. I also made a separate one for this series, you can find it linked in the caption here, as well as in Tim's section of the main masterlist.

TW: soft Tim, slightly insecure Tim, love and tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Golden. Not because of the ring, but because of the life built around it.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x wife!reader

mini-series masterlist

The blackout curtains covering your bedroom window did their best, but the sunlight trying to invade the privacy of your space won this round, sneaking a few rays between the faint crack in the middle. It was early in the morning, the digital clock on the nightstand indicating 6:48 AM. You were not a morning person, per se, not in the way Tim was, at least, but in the warmer months you did enjoy rising a little earlier than usual, if only to bask in the extra hours of daylight and admire how ethereal your home looked bathed in the golden hue.

It wasn’t often that your schedules aligned, but today happened to be both yours and his day off, which explained why your husband was still fast asleep and sprawled on top of you, successfully blocking any attempts to get up, or even move, on your part. A smile lifted the corners of your lips as you glanced down, taking in the way his strong arms were secured around your torso, your legs messily tangled with his, and his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his steady breath tickling your soft skin with each exhale. Truthfully, you could stay here and just watch him all day if he let you, the way the sliver of light danced across the bare skin of his back, how his muscles rippled every time he tightened his hold when he felt you try to move and the way his tousled hair – a result of your wandering hands the night before – made him look so young, so boyish.

“Y’starin’, sweetheart.”

His sleepy mumble made you chuckle, a disbelieving brow raising in challenge.

“Oh? And how would you know?”

He lets out a sigh, burrowing deeper into your warmth. Tim’s always been a physically affectionate man, never shying away from holding your hand, wrapping you safely in his arms, or kissing you in public. But when the day is over and the shields are down, he allows himself to indulge, finding comfort in you and the love you offer so earnestly – as if loving him is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

And it is.

It took him a while to let himself believe it and you have no issue reminding him whenever he needs it, as many times as he needs it.

“Can feel y’eyes on me. ‘M’not sayin’ I don’t like it, s’just..” he trailed off “distracting.”

You bit your lip to hold back a giggle, shaking your head fondly. There was never a moment when your love for him faded, never wavered, and never withered. But you did have moments when you were certain your affection reached an impossible peak, and then surpassed it. Now was one of them: a soft and lazy start of the day, rumpled sheets covering your bodies, and him overwhelming all your senses, making you dizzy with pure, unfiltered happiness.

Your hands have been slowly caressing the broad expense of his shoulders for the better part of the time you’ve been awake, keeping your touch soothing, not wanting to disturb Tim, but needing to touch and ground yourself in him nonetheless. It still surprised you, even so many years down the line, how he could be so close – wrapped around you like a koala sometimes, or you around him – and you’d still need to tighten your grip, to let your hands wonder, feel him there – real, breathing, yours.

You let a hand migrate upwards, fingers gently tangling in his hair, nails massaging his scalp with the slightest bit of pressure. You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he lets out a content groan, melting into your touch like a purring kitten.

“Fuck, that feels amazing.”

You smile, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head, moving your lips gradually over any part of his face you can reach from this angle: his forehead, his temple, the apple of his cheek, his jaw.

“Softie.”

He huffs out a laugh, muffled for the most part by your skin.

“Married me anyway.”

A wide grin spreads across your lips, your heart fluttering happily right under his. Leaning down a couple inches, you let a soft whisper brush the shell of his ear, waiting patiently for the inevitable outcome.

“Best decision of my life.”

The reaction is almost immediate, his hold on your waist tightening as he flipped you over, now wide awake, his gaze hungry as his eyes move slowly across your form, taking his time committing every inch of you to memory. But it’s a different type of hunger, you notice. It’s not lust, not the need for your body that’s burning bright within him. It’s the need for your words, your heart, your love. You shift above him, moving to straddle him as his hands land securely, yet possessively, on your hips. Yours stay on his chest, his heart a steady rhythm beneath your palm, as you hold his gaze with a reassuring smile.

“Say it again.”

You grin, leaning in to cup his cheek, the rough stubble coating it feeling familiar and comforting.

“Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I don’t want to. I love you, baby.”

His hand closed around your wrist as Tim turned his face to press a soft kiss to your palm. His thumb remained drawing mindless circles on your skin as his beautiful blue eyes took their time searching your face for any sign of doubt, of hesitation, of regret.

He found none, and a soft exhale passed his lips before he allowed a crooked smile to tug one corner up.

“I love you too. So much, angel.”

Closing the distance, you pressed your lips to Tim’s in the gentlest, sweetest kiss you’d shared, but one that still conveyed all the love and passion words never could. His left hand moved from your hip to your upper thigh, slim fingers caressing your skin reverently, adoringly.

A quick flash caught your attention as you pulled away to catch your breath. It was gone in a second, before you caught it again from the corner of your eye. Following the direction it came from, your eyes landed on Tim’s hand on your thigh, on the metal band on his ring finger, glowing in the golden light as it catches the sun. It’s a familiar sight, one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing every day, but now? Something different settles in your chest.

Because you realize that you cannot picture his hand without it, not anymore.

Because somewhere between your vows, the good days and the bad, the stress, the danger, and all the close calls, the ring stopped looking like jewelry.

Now, it simply looked like him. Steady, beautiful, yours.  

[moonyswolfie]

Put Your Lipstick On My Neck

I got this idea while rewatching the Valentine's Day Gala episode and I thought it would be nice to see some more whipped!Tim around here. It was supposed to be a drabble, but it sort of got out of hand and I ended up with over 1k words so I guess it's a mini-fic now? I hope you like it!

Title is from a Charlie Puth song.

TW: allusions to smut, but no actual smut, still 18+ in a way though, Tim Bradford being absolutely in love with his wife, if I missed any please let me know

Summary: Watching you get ready is one of Tim's favourite past times.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x wife!reader (it is not specified where she works, just that she works in law enforcement of some kind)

mini-series masterlist

The clock is ticking, but you pay it no mind. You weren’t running behind. On the contrary, you made sure to start getting ready rather early. Tonight was important to Luna, therefore it was important to Wade, and, by extension, to Tim. And if you knew one thing about your husband, it was that you were going to need some time to spare.

Tim Bradford always said that being on time meant being late. He drilled this lesson into each rookie he trained over the years and he was annoyingly strict about respecting this self-imposed rule himself. Lead by example and all that. And yet, when it came to his wife, he was cutting it really close.

Every.

Single.

Time.

It wasn’t his fault, really. It wasn’t yours, either. Not really. It just so happened that he could not resist messing up the bold, red lipstick you always applied with careful precision. Something about the colour was so enticing, and your full lips were always so inviting, he truly could not help himself. He had to touch, to kiss, to own.

You were so lost in thought that you failed to notice Tim leaning against the doorway, watching you finish your make-up with a fond smile adorning his face. The powder brush dusted your cheeks, the blush you chose complimented your skin beautifully, and he arrived just in time for the grand finale: the lips. Your husband was positively enthralled watching you lift your favourite lip pencil and contour the outline flawlessly, using the smallest, barely-there movements for the best results. He knew he was making a habit of cutting it close, therefore not leaving you much time to fix any potential mistakes, so your effort to get it perfect on the first try was much appreciated.

Carefully uncapping the lipstick tube, you finally spot your admirer reflected in your vanity mirror. The smirk lifting the corners of your lips could rival that of the Chesire cat. You didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was thinking, his eyes following the slow and sensual movements of your hands as you placed the cap on the table and twisted the lipstick up with practiced ease. The red you chose tonight matched not only your dress for the event, but also your nails, and the contrast was certainly not lost on Tim. The dress wasn’t even on, and yet he couldn’t wait to get you out of it, have your lip stains all over his stark white shirt and those elegant nails leaving matching red marks all over his back.

You return your gaze to your own reflection, the expensive product in your hand tracing slowly across your bottom lip first, followed by your cupid’s bow, then upper lip. The same careful precision you used on the job was now directed towards your own appearance and, in a way, it wasn’t much different. The sensitive equipment you handled at work was city-issued armor, but your looks? That was your personal armor and you were not about to let it crack.

“You’re staring.”

Your statement was delivered without looking away from your current task of filling in the corners, a detail that will offer a fuller effect of your lips later on.

“I’m not staring.”

You catch Tim’s gaze, pausing for just a second to lift a perfectly shaped brow, before reaching for a napkin. You dab away softly at the excess product before pressing your lips together and moving to recap the lipstick.

“Then what would you call it?”

“Observing.”

The adorable little laugh you let out made the smile on your husband’s face grow, his eyes showing so much love that if you weren’t already sitting, your knees would have certainly been buckling.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Your tone was playful as you turned around in your chair to face Tim, only to be met with his approaching figure. He stopped behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn back around, catching sight of your reflections in the mirror once more.

“It is when I’m trying not to ruin your lipstick before we even leave the house.”

“I thought ruining my lipstick before the main event was our little ritual.”

Tim let out a chuckle and the hand on your shoulder moved higher, his fingers tracing the soft column of your neck, lingering around your pulse point and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He tilted your head just a bit, exposing just enough skin to lean down and press a searing kiss under your jaw. You bite your bottom lip as you let your eyes close, your husband watching your reactions unfolding through the mirror completely enraptured. The quiet moan that made its way past your lips encouraged him to continue, his lips tracing the same path his fingers explored just seconds before, his teeth nipping when they reached the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Careful, or I might have to choose another dress.”

He hums, presumably considering the implications of your warning.

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Not if we want to be on time.”

Stealing a glance at the clock on the mantle, Tim sighed in defeat, letting his fingertips graze the skin of your upper arm in a gesture of comfort. He knew if he continued his affections, you’d most likely be late and never hear the end of it from everyone at the station – that is, if you ended up leaving the house in the first place.

You lifted your hand to catch his, running the tips of your nails gently over his fingers before intertwining them with your own. A gesture of reassurance, of love, of commitment.

“You are so beautiful, it’s intoxicating.”

Tim Bradford was not a man of many words, but he somehow managed to always take your breath away with the most mundane of compliments. Very direct, very Tim. Each one made you fall in love with him a little bit more every single day.

“Thank you, handsome, but I have an inkling you might steal all the attention tonight.”

“Yours is the only attention I hope to steal, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the blush taking over your cheeks, nor the giggle escaping your lips of its own accord. You didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much, but here he was – warm and steady and so magnificently yours.

“You have it, my love. Always.”

[sabrinajenre96]

Title: “Legacy in the Shadows”

Word Count: ~2,500

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Wife!Reader

Featuring: Nyla, Angela, Grey, Rosalind Dyer, Lucy, Nolan, Jackson

---

Midshire Police Station – Observation Room

“Who is she?” Lucy Chen whispered, eyes glued to the woman across the glass.

“Y/N L/N,” Nyla said, arms folded, trying (and failing) to hide her smirk. “Detective. Former FBI BAU. Certified genius. Daughter of a LAPD legend. Oh—and my best friend.”

Angela added, “Also mine.”

“Wait, BAU?” Nolan blinked. “Like... the Behavioral Analysis Unit? As in Quantico?”

Nyla nodded. “She left a couple years back. Nobody really knows why, but she doesn’t miss.”

On the other side of the glass, Y/N stood in front of Rosalind Dyer. Calm. Unshaken. Razor-sharp. Even Grey had taken a step back to let her lead.

“She doesn’t look like a profiler,” Jackson said under his breath, watching as Y/N cocked her head ever so slightly in that unflinching, deliberate way that told them she was already inside Rosalind’s mind.

“You say that like you know what one looks like,” Lucy teased, eyes still fixed.

Jackson held up his hands. “I’ve seen Mindhunter.”

Tim Bradford, leaning near the wall with his usual stoicism, finally spoke. “You don’t want to be in that room. Rosalind plays games.”

“And Y/N plays to win,” Angela said with a wink.

Lucy turned to Tim, squinting. “So, how do you know her?”

Tim didn’t answer right away, just sipped his coffee and muttered, “We met.”

Nyla smirked. “Tell her, Tim.”

Tim sighed. “She’s my wife.”

“WHAT?” Lucy practically shrieked. Jackson dropped his pen. Nolan turned in place like someone had just fired a gun.

“You’re married to her?” Nolan asked.

Jackson added, “That woman in there, melting a serial killer’s brain like it’s Tuesday?”

Tim gave a tight nod, clearly trying to remain unbothered. Lucy, however, was undeterred.

“Wait. Like—married married? Like you have breakfast together? You kiss her goodnight? She sees you without gel?”

Angela was full-on laughing now. “Lucy, let it go.”

“But he’s so—Tim,” Lucy said. “And she’s so—Y/N. She looks like she’d outsmart a CIA operative and still have time for pilates.”

Tim raised a brow. “She prefers kickboxing.”

Nyla leaned in. “Also Brazilian jiu jitsu. Don’t forget that, Tim.”

Angela added, “She broke a guy’s collarbone once with a clipboard.”

“By accident,” Tim muttered.

They all turned back to the glass just as Rosalind leaned forward, whispering something meant to unnerve.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She tilted her head again, smiled coolly, and said something that made Rosalind’s smile drop.

Even Grey gave a small nod of admiration.

“She just flipped the power dynamic,” Nolan said in awe.

Jackson added, “This is like watching chess, but with psychopaths.”

When the interview ended, Rosalind was no longer smiling. Grey and Y/N exited the interrogation room, Grey composed as ever, but Y/N—seeing the motley crew of rookies gawking at her husband—finally cracked.

Lucy had Tim cornered.

“So when did you marry her? Is she a morning person? Does she clean your gun? What’s your couple’s Halloween costume? Are you guys a ‘we finish each other’s sentences’ couple or a ‘barely tolerate each other but secretly in love’ couple?”

Tim looked like he was seriously considering requesting backup.

Nyla and Angela stood nearby, watching with popcorn-level amusement.

“Are you okay, Tim?” Angela called, grinning.

“No,” he deadpanned.

Y/N walked up just in time to hear Lucy go, “She seems way too cool for you.”

“Thanks?” Tim said, deadpan.

And that’s when Y/N burst out laughing. Full, belly-deep laughter. Everyone froze for a second—because seeing her laugh like that was unexpected.

She shook her head, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You guys are adorable.”

Grey crossed his arms. “You enjoyed that.”

“Immensely,” Y/N said, sliding her hand into Tim’s. “So... who’s taking bets on how long until Lucy asks if we met in a high-stakes hostage rescue?”

Lucy raised her hand sheepishly. “Was that the meet-cute?”

Tim groaned.

Y/N winked. “Vegas, actually. Undercover op. But that’s classified.”

Lucy looked like she might faint.

Nyla and Angela exchanged a high-five. Jackson still hadn’t closed his mouth. Nolan was just shaking his head, muttering, “Of course he married a legend.”

Tim gave Y/N a side-eye. “Thanks for the chaos.”

“You love me for it,” she said, smirking.

And he did.

Bradford Home – Late Evening

The house was still. The only sound was the low hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional soft creak of wood settling in the night. In the bedroom, the lights were dimmed to a warm amber, casting golden shadows on the walls.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing one of Tim’s old LAPD t-shirts and her hair still slightly damp from her shower. A case file lay forgotten on the comforter beside her. She was staring ahead, brows furrowed in quiet thought.

Tim stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung around his neck, watching her as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey.” His voice was softer than usual. “You okay?”

Y/N blinked out of her trance and smiled, just a little. “Yeah. Just... decompressing.”

He walked over and sat beside her on the bed, shoulder brushing hers. “You nailed it today. Even Grey was impressed. And you got Rosalind to actually shut up for once.”

She let out a small laugh. “It’s weird. I used to get this adrenaline rush after interrogations like that. Now it just feels... heavy.”

“You’ve done more than most detectives in twice your years. You don’t have to prove anything.” Tim reached over, took her hand. “Especially not to her.”

Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t about Rosalind. It was about the victims. If this is a copycat... I don’t want to miss something because I hesitated.”

“You didn’t,” Tim said simply. “You were ten steps ahead of her. Everyone saw it.”

She tilted her face up to look at him. “Including Lucy. She asked if I clean your gun.”

He groaned and fell back onto the bed. “She hasn’t stopped talking since you left the room. I thought Nolan was going to short-circuit.”

Y/N chuckled and crawled over to rest her head on his chest. “You didn’t tell them about me on purpose, did you?”

“I like keeping things for myself,” Tim said, brushing his hand through her hair. “You’re mine. I didn’t want them turning you into some myth or story.”

“I am a myth, technically. Legend status,” she teased.

He smirked. “Exactly.”

They stayed like that for a while, silence settling between them like a blanket—comforting, warm.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “The quiet. The stillness. Just us.”

Tim kissed the top of her head. “It’s always waiting here for you. Every time.”

Her fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, grounding herself. “You’re my peace, Bradford.”

“And you,” he murmured, pulling her closer, “are my chaos. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

I need more tim Bradford from you

His Achilles Heel

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets injured while on the job and Tim is immediately worried.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort | Angst Turned Fluff | Established Relationship.

MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~

The second Tim saw the blood, he stopped breathing.

It was chaos—sirens blaring, shouting across radios, the suspect cuffed and screaming obscenities. But all Tim could focus on was you, slumped against the side of the squad car, clutching your side with a pale, shaking hand.

“No, no, no—hey—hey!” he was at your side in seconds, kneeling, pressing his hands over yours to apply pressure. “What happened? Who shot you?”

“Just—grazed me,” you gritted out, trying to smile. “Got cocky in the hallway. I’m okay, Tim.”

His jaw clenched. “You are not okay.”

You tried to sit up straighter, stubborn as always. “Seriously, it’s not—”

“Stop.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do that. Don’t downplay it to protect me.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “I wasn’t…”

“You were.” His voice was low, trembling with emotion. “You always do. You laugh off pain, act like you’re made of steel, and it’s killing me.”

You reached up, fingers brushing his jaw. “Tim…”

“I need you to stop scaring the hell out of me,” he whispered, leaning into your touch. “I can’t lose you. You get that? You’re not just my partner, you’re—” His throat bobbed. “You’re everything.”

You smiled then, even through the pain. “So… this mean I’m your emergency contact now?”

Tim huffed a weak laugh and pressed his forehead against yours, voice choked with relief. “Yeah. And the one I wanna come home to. Always.”

“Then help me up, Bradford. I need to survive this graze so we can argue about the thermostat later.”

He kissed your forehead, gently, reverently. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “More than anything.”

~~~~~~~~~

If you'd like to be added to The Rookie's taglist, let me know so that you can be notified when I post anything related to that show <3.

[svturtles]

Familiar faces

Tim Bradford x detective reader

Part 2

Tim, Angela and reader were rookies together and good friends. Reader moved up to detective and now working with her old colleagues to solve a case. Slow burn with lots of Angela teasing them both

Isabel doesn’t exist in this story line!

The warehouse was supposed to be empty. That was the plan. Intel said the money drop had already happened, leaving only a few pieces of evidence behind. Tim led the entry team through the front while you and Angela covered the rear.

“Clear,” one officer called.

You swept your flashlight across a row of shipping containers. “Nothing back-“ A loud crash echoed through the warehouse.

Then came shouting. “Police! Don’t move!”

You spun just in time to see a man sprinting from behind a container. The suspect barreled straight toward the back exit. You gave chase.

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice carried across the warehouse.

⸻

Outside, the suspect vaulted a chain-link fence. You followed without hesitation.

“Stop! LAPD!” You shouted

He ducked into a narrow alley between two abandoned buildings. The alley was silent. Years as a detective made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“It’s a trap” you mutter realising.

Before you could react, someone grabbed you from behind. An arm wrapped around your neck while another suspect attempted to grab your gun. A short back and forth causes it to clatter away from you.

“Don’t move!” One demanded holding his gun up towards your side, his arm still around your neck.

⸻

Inside the warehouse, Tim froze. His radio crackled. “Officer down”

“No,” Angela corrected immediately. “Detective’s been grabbed! East alley!”

Tim didn’t wait for orders. He was already running.

Grey shouted after him “Bradford!”

Tim was already out the door.

⸻

The suspect dragged you backward, pressing the gun harder against your side, you bit back a wince.

“You cops just don’t know when to quit.”

You forced yourself to stay calm. Breathe. Wait for an opening.

You heard footsteps pounding toward them.

Tim rounded the corner. The moment he saw the gun against your side, his entire body went rigid. His expression didn’t change.

But Angela, arriving seconds later, saw it. She had known Tim Bradford for years. She had seen him furious. She had seen him grieving. She had seen him scared.

This was different. Cold. Controlled. Dangerously controlled.

“Let her go” Tim said, his voice level.

The suspect laughed. “Or what?”

Tim never took his eyes off you. “You don’t want to find out.”

You recognised that tone. It was the one he used when he was barely holding himself together. She heard it the first time he saw a civilian get killed in a shooting crossfire with police his rookie year.

You gave the smallest shake of your head. Don’t.

He understood immediately. He couldn’t rush the suspect. Not with the gun still on you.

The suspect backed away with you another step. “Drop your weapon.”

Tim didn’t move.

“I said drop it!”

Slowly, Tim lowered his pistol toward the ground.

Angela looked at him in disbelief. He hated surrendering control. He was doing it anyway. For you.

⸻

The suspect glanced away for one second.

That was all you needed. You drove your elbow hard into his ribs.

He stumbled. Tim moved. In what felt like a single motion, he tackled the suspect before he could recover, knocking the gun skidding across the pavement. Tim hit the suspect a few times in the face angrily.

Within seconds the man was cuffed. Officers ripping Tim off of him.

He turned immediately to you “You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You sure?”

“I’m okay.”

He stepped closer. “You hit your head?” He inspected your face turning it over to make sure you had no blood or bruising.

“No.”

“Anything broken?”

“No.” You grab his wrists stopping him from moving your head around.

“You should get checked out.”

You smiled softly. “You sound worried, Bradford.”

“I was.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Silence settled between them.

Tim looked away first. “I mean, you know standard procedure.”

Your smile grew. “Of course, procedure” you nod.

⸻

The adrenaline had finally worn off. You sat on the edge of Grey’s’s desk, sipping a bottle of water while Grey insisted you were lucky to have escaped with only a small bruise.

Across the bullpen, Tim was finishing paperwork. Or at least pretending to.

His report had been open for nearly fifteen minutes. He hadn’t typed a word.

Angela wandered over, coffee in hand. “You know,” she said casually, “you scared me today.”

Tim kept his eyes on the computer “The situation was under control.”

“I’m not talking about the suspect.”

He looked up.

“I’m talking about you.”

“I was fine.” He said leaning back in his chair looking at Angela.

Angela laughed. “Tim.”

“What?”

“I’ve known you since we were rookies.”

“So?

“I’ve never seen you act like that.”

He said nothing.

“You heard her name on the radio and you were gone before Grey finished giving orders.”

“I was responding.”

“You were panicking.” Angela put her coffee cup down by Tim.

“I don’t panic.” He argued back.

Angela leaned against the desk “No? That wasn’t panic?” A knowing smile spread across her face. “You do when it’s her.”

Tim looked across the bullpen.

You were laughing at something one of the officers had said, completely unaware they were talking about you.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he caught himself.

Angela saw it. “There it is.”

He sighed “What?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one you’ve had since you were twenty-three.” Angela said nudging him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tim shook his head.

“You’ve always looked at her like that.” Angela said softly.

Tim opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Angela folded her arms. “You never noticed because you were too busy arguing with her.”

“I wasn’t”

“You carried her gear whenever she complained her back hurt.” Angela cut him off.

“She wasn’t complaining.”

“You gave her your last protein bar every time she forgot lunch.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” He said crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

“You volunteered for every patrol shift she was assigned to.” Angela said holding three fingers up listing all the things Tim had done for you all in your first years together.

“Coincidence.”

Angela laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. “You are the worst liar I’ve ever met.” She said hitting him softly on the back of his head walking away causing Tim to shout a ‘Hey’ after her

⸻

As you gathered her things to leave, Tim walked over, now in jeans and a hoodie.

“You heading home?” He asked

You nodded. “Yeah, my jobs done here Purxes confessed to the homicide and the money laundering, I’ll be back during the week for paperwork.”

“You parked in the south lot?”

“I did.”

“I’ll walk you.” Tim followed in step with you

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s fifty feet away from the building.”

“I know.”

You study him for a moment before smiling.

“Okay.”

You walked side by side through the quiet evening air. Hands ever so lightly touching every now and again.

As you reached your car, you unlocked the driver’s door but didn’t get in. “Thanks.”

“For what?” He questioned leaning against your car.

“For today, saving my ass.” You laugh leaning next to him

“You would’ve done the same for me.” He leaned closer to you.

“I would’ve.” You agreed looking up at him.

A gentle breeze stirred. You and Tim didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.

You blinked up at Tim “You know”

“Hm?” He hummed in response.

“You don’t have to pretend you weren’t worried, I saw your face.”

Tim met your eyes. “I was terrified.”

The confession hung in the air. You just stared at each other for a while.

Before you could answer, Tim gave you a small, almost embarrassed smile. “Get home safe, Detective.”

He turned and walked away before you could say anything else. You just nod your head once at him, disappointment stirring slightly in your chest.

From inside the station window, Angela watched the entire exchange.

Nyla joined her. “Any update?”

Angela grinned. “He finally admitted it.”

“To her?” Nyla asked suprised.

Angela sighed dramatically. “No, to himself but we’re getting closer.” She took another sip of coffee. “Give it time.”

Neither Angela nor Nyla noticed Tim glance back over his shoulder one last time.

Just to make sure you had gotten safely into your car.

______

Three days later.

Cases had finally slowed enough for everyone to catch their breath. Which, in the LAPD, usually meant something was about to go wrong.

You had just finished interviewing a witness for a Robbery downtown when you’re phone buzzed.

Angela:

Bradford got into a fight with a suspect. He’s fine.

A second later, another message arrived.

Well… “Tim fine.” Which means bruised, bleeding, and pretending he doesn’t need a doctor. Please get through to him to get stitches.

You smiled to yourself.

I’m on my way. You replied.

⸻

When you arrived at the station, the bullpen was buzzing. Lucy Chen was pacing outside the briefing room.

“Hey,” Lucy said. “Good timing.”

“How bad is he?”

Lucy sighed. “He dislocated his shoulder and has a bleeding cut taking down a guy with a knife.”

You winced “And?”

“He insists it’s ‘just a scratch.’”

“Of course he does.” You sigh tilting your head back closing your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for an argument with Tim.

Angela appeared besides you, coffee in hand. “I told him you’d say that.”

You raised an eyebrow at her “You told him I was coming?”

“I might’ve.”

“Angela” you whine

“What? I’m helping.”

Lucy tried, and failed, to hide her grin, truth be told her TO was a lot nicer after you left and it was working well in her favour. So she was a massive fan of you and Tim together.

“You’re definitely not helping because now he’s going to have more deflection prepared when I walk in” you exhale pinching the bridge of your nose.

Angela just laughed and walked away muttering a ‘good luck’ your way.

⸻

Tim sat at his desk, typing one-handed. His left shoulder was secured in a sling. There was a cut above his eyebrow that had a bandage on it, needing stitching.

He looked up as you knocked and approached. “You came.”

You folded your arms. “I heard you were being stubborn.”

“I am not.” He huffed winching when he leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at the bottle of pain medication sitting unopened on his desk.

“You haven’t taken those.” You pointed out the bottle.

“They make me tired”

“They make you heal.” You said walking closer to him.

“I’m working.” He argued.

“You got stabbed.” You deadpanned, one eyebrow raised at him.

“It was barely a knife.”

You stared at him for a second. “Did you just say ‘it was barely a knife?’” You questioned puzzled.

“It wasn’t very big.”

You blinked “I’m surrounded by idiots.” You mutter tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling, clutching your hands in fists to prevent yourself from throwing something at him.

Tim’s lips twitched “I’ve missed this.”

“What, getting injured and arguing with me about the extent of your injuries?” You question. Balling up a sticky note and tossing it at his face, causing Tim to grin at you.

You reached up without thinking, fingers brushed gently against the bandage above his eyebrow.

“Does this hurt?” You ask softly.

Tim completely forgot how to answer. Your touch was light as a feather.

“A little,” he admitted quietly watching you.

You frowned. “You should’ve gotten stitches.”

“The medic disagreed.” He lied.

“The medic specifically told you to get them.” You corrected, softly tracing over the bandage.

Tim smiled. Holding the wrist on your lap, his thumb brushing against your pulse point.

⸻

From across the bullpen Angela slowly leaned over Lucy’s desk “Watch.”

Lucy looked up from her paperwork “What am I watching exactly?”

Angela pointed discreetly.

Tim hadn’t taken his eyes off you once.

Lucy smiled “Oh, this is too cute.”

“Exactly, they’re adorable and they’re hopeless.”

⸻

You picked up the pain medication “Come on, just take one.” You shook the bottle.

“I’m fine.” Tim denied.

“Tim.”

“No.” He shook his head

“I’m asking nicely.” You said sternly.

“No.” He repeated.

You uncapped the bottle anyway and held out one tablet in your fingers towards his face.

“I’m not above making this an order.” You replied leaning back against his desk next to his chair.

“You can’t order me.” He says gruffly.

“I’m a detective.”

“And I’m a sergeant.”

You smiled sweetly “I’ll tell Angela you’re being difficult.”

“You already have, that’s why she called you in the first place” a smug smile tugs across his face.

Angela knocks on his window without looking up from her phone. “You listen to her before I come in there and kick your ass” she calls out

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “I work with children.”

You laugh setting the medication down. “Fine, but please take one when you really can’t take the pain anymore”

Tim nods his head at you “Ok I promise”

⸻

After an hour Tim finally admitted his shoulder hurt more than he’d let on. You drove him home after one painkiller tablet later.

Mostly because he couldn’t comfortably steer with one arm.

“You know” you said as they pulled into his driveway, “accepting help isn’t a weakness.”

“I know.”

“You just don’t believe it.”

He sighed “Old habits.”

You parked the car and looked at him. “I know, I remember.”

He frowned “Remember what?”

“The academy, your ankle” you remind him. Tim laughs in remembrance.

⸻

Tim had twisted his ankle during an obstacle course. Instead of reporting it, he’d wrapped it himself and kept training.

Until he’d collapsed halfway through a run. You had found him sitting behind the gym, trying unsuccessfully to hide the injury.

“You idiot.” You call staring down at him.

“I’m fine.” He said trying to ignore your presence and wave you off.

You ignored him, instead sitting beside him on the concrete, and started rewrapping his ankle properly.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I can handle it.” He huffed

“Yeah. I know you can tough guy.” You tied off the bandage before looking up at him “But you don’t always have to.”

He’d looked at you for a long moment. Then quietly and begrudgingly said “Thanks.”

It had been the first time she’d ever seen him somewhat vulnerable.

⸻

“You remembered that?” Tim asked softly.

“I remember a lot.”

He looked down at the sling. “I guess I never got any better.”

“You got better.” You smiled. “I mean you let me drive you home after a ten minute argument, that’s a record for you.”

He laughed quietly “Fair.”

You climbed out of the car and walked around to help him with the passenger door.

“I can manage.”

“I know.” You replied. “But you don’t always have to.” You said echoing those words that you said to an injured Tim, seven years ago.

Tim looked at you. Then, without thinking, he reached out with his good hand and gently squeezed yours.

It lasted only a second. Just enough for your fingers to meet. Just enough to make both of you freeze.

Tim cleared his throat. “Uh, Thank you.”

Your heart fluttered. “Anytime Bradford.”

⸻

Angela strolled into Tim’s office carrying two coffees.

She set one in front of Tim. “So, did she drive you home?”

“Maybe.” Tim replied not looking up from his paperwork .

Angela smiled. “And?”

“And nothing.”

“Nothing?” She questioned waving the coffee cup in Tim’s face.

“We talked.” He gruffly replied snatching the cup from her hand.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she hold your hand? Kiss you better” Angela teases.

Tim nearly choked on his coffee. Angela’s grin became positively wicked. “I’ll take that as a yes. But not to the kissing better part disappointingly”.

Before Tim could defend himself, you walked into the bullpen. Capturing Tim’s attention. You smiled. Tim smiled back.

Angela watched the exchange biding him a quiet goodbye before walking out of his office towards Lucy. “They don’t even know they’re doing that.”

Lucy laughed “The smiling?”

“That, amongst other stuff” Angela picked up her coffee with a satisfied nod.

“I give it another week before one of them almost kisses the other.” Nyla charms in.

“I wish, it’s been years and they’ve never even came close” Angela states rolling her eyes.

You waved at Angela and the others and walked to Tim’s office, once inside you straightened Tim’s crooked tie without a word.

Your fingers lingered against his collar for a moment. “There, that’s better” you said softly “You looked ridiculous.”

Tim looked at you for a beat too long. “You fixed my tie?”

“It was bothering me.”

“It wasn’t crooked.” Tim defends lip twitching into a smile.

“It was.” You argued back biting back a laugh, grinning wildly.

Angela buried her face in her hands. Watching the exchange through the window “Oh, they’re down bad.”

Lucy couldn’t help laughing. “Should we tell them?”

Angela watched Tim and you fall into easy conversation, standing just a little too close, smiling just a little too often.

“No.” Angela smirked. “They’re finally getting there on their own.”

______

By Friday afternoon, the entire station had noticed. Even Nolan. Not because Tim and you were doing anything obvious.

Quite the opposite. You both were still insisting you were “just friends.”

That just happened to eat lunch together. Walk to their cars together. Bring each other coffee without asking. Smile at each other in a way neither of them smiled at anyone else.

Angela leaned against Lucy’s desk. “Ok, I’m done.”

Lucy looked up. “Done with what?”

“Waiting.”

Nyla glanced over “What are you planning?”

Angela’s smile was innocent enough to worry everyone. “I’m planning opportunities.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “What kind of opportunities?” She questioned.

⸻

The case was officially closed, after weeks of official testimonies and finalising paperwork for trial.

Grey had surprised the team by suggesting they celebrate at a neighborhood bar.

The atmosphere was relaxed. Music played softly in the background, officers laughed over stories from old cases, and for the first time in weeks, no one’s radio interrupted the conversation.

Tim stood at the bar waiting for two drinks.

“You know,” Angela said as she appeared beside him, “you’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes.”

“I have not.” He denied.

“You’re buying her drink without asking what she wants.”

“So, I know your drink order too Lopez.”

“Yeah, but you’re not buying me a drink right now are you?” Angela questioned.

Tim sighed. “Angela ”

“No, seriously now Tim.” She nodded toward you, who was laughing with Lucy across the room. “You look happier when she’s around.”

He followed Angela’s gaze before he could stop himself. You caught him looking and smiled. He smiled back automatically.

Angela made a triumphant little noise.

“What?” Tim sighed.

“You’re smiling again!”

Tim rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Not until you kiss her.”

Tim shot her a look. Angela simply walked away, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

⸻

The group spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Nolan and Jackson headed toward the parking lot together.

Nyla claimed she had an early start.

Angela lingered just long enough to watch Tim and you fall naturally into step beside each other.

She dramatically checked her phone. “Oh no.”

Tim frowned. “What?” You both stopped walking turning to face Angela.

“I… uh… forgot something inside.” Angela said riffling through her bag pouting.

Lucy, catching on immediately, nodded.“Me too.”

“You didn’t” you began saying.

“Goodnight!” Angela called brightly cutting you off, before practically dragging Lucy back toward the bar.

Tim watched them disappear. “She’s crazy.”

You laughed. “Definitely.” Looping your arm around his, continuing your walk to your cars.

⸻

The night air was cool. You and Tim walked slowly toward the parking lot.

“You remember our graduation?” You asked.

Tim smiled “yeah, you nearly tripped walking across the stage.”

“I did not.” You nudge his body with yours, arm still hooked together.

“You absolutely did.” Tim laughed.

“I recovered.” You defended.

“Barely.”

You laughed, head resting against his shoulder. “You caught my arm.”

“You would’ve fallen, if I hadn’t” Tim looked down at you.

“I still would’ve graduated.”

“I was protecting my own reputation.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head causing a smile to break out on your face squeezing his arm softly in response.

“Oh?”

“My academy partner falling on stage would’ve reflected badly on me.” He scoffs jokingly.

You looked at him with a teasing smile “You’ve always had an excuse.”

“For what?”

“For looking after me.”

Tim didn’t answer. Instead, you kept walking until you reached your car. Both turning around to lean against the bonnet.

You spoke first. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Always.” Tim nodded.

You took a slow breath. “Back at the gala” you paused unsure if you should continue.

Tim picked up on your hesitancy “When I called you my wife?”

You nodded. “Did that feel strange to you?”

Tim was quiet for several seconds. “No.”

“No?” You looked down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. “I’ve been trying really hard not to think about that.” You confessed.

“I know.” Tim said turning to face you properly.

“You know?”

Tim took a slow step closer. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too.” Tim continued. “I wanted you since we were rookies.”

Your breath caught. “Tim”

“I just didn’t realize it until I saw you held hostage, I was terrified.” Tim shook his head. “I kept telling myself we were rivals, then friends,” he continued quietly. “Then colleagues.”

He smiled, almost sheepishly. “But every time something happened over the radio”

He shook his head. “I was always waiting to hear your voice to make sure you weren’t in trouble.”

You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. “You’re an idiot. I’ve been hinting at you for years that I liked you, even hitting on you not so subtly for a while.” You laugh

Tim stared at you. “What? You have?”

You laughed through watery eyes. “Angela used to tell me you were flirting with me in the academy, so I started to do the same.”

“I was? You were?”

“You were terrible at it.” You smiled warmly.

“Coming from you, I didn’t even know you were hitting on me.” Tim laughed, a genuine, unguarded laugh you’d never heard from him before.

“In all fairness you never know when anyone’s hitting on you.” You defend. “You literally had a lady hand you her number after a robbery and you thought she was giving to you for paperwork reasons”

You both laughed together. For a long moment you simply looked at one another.

No teasing. No walls. No pretending.

Tim lifted a hand slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

Instead, you stepped into him. His fingertips brushed gently against your cheek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” He whispered.

“Then stop talking.” You say holding his wrist by your face.

A grin spread across his face. “Yes, Detective.”

You rolled her eyes affectionately. “Still taking orders badly.”

“I’m improving.” Then he leaned in. Your lips met softly at first, almost hesitant, as though neither quite believed this was real.

Years of stolen glances, sarcastic remarks, near misses and unspoken feelings melted away in a single kiss.

Your hand slid to the back of his neck, and Tim instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, both of you smiling into it as the realization settled in. Tim backed you softy against your car, nudging his nose softly against yours before pulling your lips back against his.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested together.

Tim smiled. “Does this mean Angela was right?”

You groaned dramatically. “Oh, don’t ruin the moment.”

Too late. A loud whistle echoed across the parking lot. You both freeze.

Angela leaned out from behind a nearby car, arms folded with the most self-satisfied grin either of you’s had ever seen.

“I KNEW IT!” She yelled out “About damn time” she laughed.

Tim closed his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You laughed tugging him back to you ignoring Angela’s hollering “For what it’s worth, Bradford”

Tim hummed his attention back on you. “Yes ma’am?”

“She’s right, it’s about time.” You leaned up on your tip toes to peak his lips softly.

Tim smiled, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and ignoring the chorus of cheers from Angela, kissed you again.

You both were never going to hear the end of it from Angela, but you both couldn’t care less.

[svturtles]

Familiar Faces

Tim Bradford x detective reader

Part 1

Tim, Angela and reader were rookies together and good friends. Reader moved up to detective and now working with her old colleagues to solve a case. Slow burn with lots of Angela teasing them both

For the sake of this story Isabel doesn’t exist!

The bullpen hadn’t changed nearly as much as she expected. The phones still rang without mercy. Officers still hurried past balancing paperwork and half-finished coffees. Somewhere in the distance someone was arguing over evidence labels.

Some things never changed.

Detective Y/N adjusted the badge hanging from her belt as she followed Angela Lopez through Mid-Wilshire.

“You know” Angela said with a grin that already meant trouble “I probably should’ve warned you.”

You frowned “Warned me about what?”

Angela didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed open the briefing room door. Inside stood Sergeant Grey, several patrol officers

And one very familiar face.

Tim Bradford.

He looked up from the case file at exactly the same moment she walked in. They both froze staring at each other.

Then Tim’s usually stoic expression softened into something dangerously close to a smile.

“Well,” he said. “If it isn’t my favorite academy screw-up.”

You laughed. “I distinctly remember graduating above you.”

“You remember wrong.”

“I have the paperwork.” Arms folded over your chest smiling smugly.

“I have rank.”

Angela looked between them with far too much amusement.

“Oh,” she said to Sergeant Grey. “This is going to be fun.”

⸻

Years ago. They’d entered the academy on the same day. Tim Bradford. Y/N Y/L/N. Angela Lopez.

Then as three exhausted rookies in the same station who survived impossible instructors, sleepless nights, bruised egos, and more than one punishment run.

Tim had always acted tough. And you had never been intimidated. Which meant you’d spent six months trying to outsmart each other.

“You call that a push-up?”

“You call that running?”

“You missed a spot cleaning your locker.”

“You’ve got toothpaste on your face.”

Angela had watched every argument with popcorn-worthy enthusiasm. “You two flirt like people who don’t realize they’re flirting.”

Both had denied it. Repeatedly.

⸻

Grey tapped the board.

“Detective Y/L/N has been brought in because this homicide overlaps with an investigation downtown. Bradford, you’ll coordinate patrol.”

Tim nodded. “Detective.”

She smirked. “Officer.”

“I’ve been a sergeant for a while.” He crossed his arms looking down at you disappointingly.

“Oh, I know.”

“So why’d you call me officer?”

“Because I enjoy annoying you.” You nudged your elbow against his.

Angela snorted. “There they are.

“There who are?” Tim asked.

“The two idiots who spent their rookie year pretending they weren’t attached at the hip.”

“We weren’t.” You defended.

Angela simply stared. “You ate lunch together every day.”

“We were hungry.” Tim said.

“You drove thirty minutes out of your way because Y/N’s car wouldn’t start.”

“It was on my route.” He argued.

“It absolutely wasn’t.”

Tim folded his arms. “No further questions, I plead the fifth.”

You laughed, Angela shared a knowing smile.

⸻

Hours later they were canvassing a neighborhood together. It was like old times. Easy. Like no time had passed.

“You still drink terrible coffee?” Tim asked, looking over from the drivers seat.

“It’s efficient coffee.”

“It tastes like burnt tires.” He said raising his eyebrow at you.

“It keeps me awake.” You say pointing your finger at him.

“So would actual coffee.”

You bumped his shoulder. He bumped back. Neither noticed they were smiling.

“You’ve changed,” Tim admitted quietly.

You looked at him. “In a good way I hope”

“You always had instincts.” He nodded.

“And now?” You turn in the passenger seat to look at him.

“Now you’ve got confidence.” The compliment caught you off guard.

“You’ve changed too Tim”

“I have?”

“You smile, it was rare for you”

“I do not.” He huffed.

“You just did.” You state poking his cheek causing him to swat your hand away.

“I absolutely didn’t.”

You laughed. “There it is again, wow torturing rookies has made you happy hasn’t it.” You tease.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’ve become insufferable.”

“You missed me, admit it.” You say leaning over the center console.

“I tolerated you.”

“Liar.” You poke him in the arm smiling, turning back to face the road to continue canvassing.

His lips twitched.

⸻

Angela watched them walk in side by side. Close enough that their shoulders brushed every few steps.

Tim reached around her to grab a file from the counter, his hand briefly settling against the small of your back to guide you out of another officer’s path.

The touch lasted barely a second. Neither seemed to think anything of it. Angela noticed. Nyla Harper noticed too.

She leaned beside Angela. “What’s their deal?”

Angela grinned. “Oh, they’re absolutely in love, since the academy.”

“And do they know?”

Angela laughed. “They have no idea.”

⸻

As everyone gathered around the evidence board, Tim naturally stepped beside you.

Not because there wasn’t space elsewhere. Just because it felt right. Natural.

You pointed at a photograph. “I think our suspect doubled back.”

Tim leaned in close enough that you caught the familiar scent of his aftershave. “I was thinking the same.”

Their heads nearly bumped. They both laughed.

Angela pinched the bridge of her nose dramatically. “For the love of everything Holy”

Tim looked over. “What?”

“You’ve been together for exactly five hours.”

“So?” He questioned.

“You’ve already touched each other approximately” she pretended to calculate, “forty-three times.”

“We have not.”

“You absolutely have.”

“We’re discussing evidence.” You add in.

Angela looked at Harper. “See? This is what I’ve been dealing with for the past seven years”

Harper nodded. Smile appearing on her face.

“They’re hopeless.” Angela points at you and Tim.

You groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Angela smiled sweetly. “I’m saying nothing.”

“You literally started this conversation.” You say throwing a pen at her.

“And I’m enjoying every second.” She grins catching the pen.

Tim shook his head. “She hasn’t changed.” You always threw things at your fellow rookies when you were frustrated, pens, paper and one time a book.

Angela smirked. “No.”

She looked directly at both of them. “But maybe this time one of you will finally make a move.” She wiggled her eyebrows and walked out the bullpen, leaving Tim and you to look at her retreating figure.

_____

“If either of you laughs at my plan,” Nyla said flatly, “I’m walking out.”

Angela looked at the operation plan spread across the conference table. “I don’t know, Harper. I think it’s perfect.”

Tim had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“So do I” You muttered beside him.

Angela looked between them with a grin that immediately put them both on edge.

“The suspect is laundering money through an upscale charity gala. Guests attend as wealthy couples, pretend to care for a cause only to show how much money they actually have”

Grey nodded. “Which means?”

Angela’s smile widened. “Bradford and Y/N are going together.”

Tim cleared his throat. “As partners.”

Angela looked at him innocently. “Of course.”

You folded your arms. “You seem far too happy about this.” You accuse Angela.

“I’ve waited seven years for an excuse.” She grinned smugly.

⸻

Tim adjusted the cuffs of his dark suit outside the venue. He looked sharp. Calm. Collected. Completely unfazed.

At least until you stepped out of the passenger side. You wore a deep maroon evening dress that caught the light with every movement. Elegant without trying too hard. Professional. Beautiful.

Tim forgot what he was about to say.

You noticed his silence. “What?” You look down confused. Did you not look up to par?

He blinked. “ Uhhh. No. Nothing.” He stuttered out.

You smiled teasingly. “You were staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You definitely were.” You say stepping closer to him, playing with his lapel on his suit jacket.

“I was assessing the assignment.”

“The assignment?”

His eyes flicked over you once more before he caught himself. “Needs work.”

You laughed. “God, you’re such a bad liar.”

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. From several cars away, Angela watched the exchange through binoculars.

Harper looked over. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I really am.” She muttered popping a potato chip in her mouth.

⸻

Inside the gala, you slipped naturally into character. Tim rested a hand lightly against the small of your back as you entered. The warmth of his hand lingered even after he let go.

You glanced sideways. “You’ve done this before.”

“What?” He questioned.

“The protective hand.”

“It gets people to stop walking into you.” He says pulling you both towards the bar.

“Mhm.” You hum looking around.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” You weren’t convinced.

⸻

You both mingled through the room, quietly identifying guests connected to their suspect.

An older woman approached with a bright smile. “What a lovely couple.”

Tim smiled politely. “Thank you.” Kissing your cheek and pulling you closer to him.

She walked away after smiling politely at you.

“You enjoyed that.” You laughed.

“I stayed in character, we’re undercover remember?” He states looking around.

You nudged his arm. “Sure.” You pat his chest and turn to try and get more information from other attendees.

Tim watches as you walk away, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

⸻

Across the venue in the carpark, Angela was trying very hard not to laugh through her surveillance earpiece. “They’re disgustingly believable.”

Harper sipped her coffee. “They’re either phenomenal actors”

“Phenomenal at something alright.”

⸻

An hour into the operation, the suspect finally appeared. He greeted guests with practiced charm before heading toward the balcony.

Tim leaned closer to you. “We need to follow.”

“He’ll notice, he can’t just walk up behind him. He’s got too many eyes on him.”

“Not if we dance our way over, make it look like we’re tipsy and having fun dancing.”

You looked at him. “You dance? No wait, you being tipsy?” You question.

“I can.” Tim huffs crossing his arms over his chest.

“Since when?”

“Oh come on, I’m full of surprises.” He held out his hand. You raised your eyebrow at him. Then placed your hand in his.

His fingers closed around yours. Warm. His other hand slipping behind your back holding you close.

The band shifted into a slow jazz number. Tim guided you effortlessly onto the dance floor.

“You’ve definitely done this before,” you whispered.

“My sister insisted.”

“I owe her a thank you.” You grin.

He chuckled softly. His eyes met yours and something softened.

“I missed you” he confessed. For a heartbeat, the investigation disappeared. It was just the two of them. The music. Your hand in his and his arm around yours waist.

You’d drifted closer until there was barely any space between. You looked up. Tim was already looking at you.

A voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Ahem.” Angela. “You two planning on investigating the suspect or just falling in love on the dance floor?”

You immediately stepped back, cheeks warming.

Tim cleared his throat. “We’re working.”

Angela laughed so hard she had to mute her microphone.

⸻

The suspect finally moved closer to you two and toward the balcony. Tim and you followed a few steps behind, slipping back into professional mode.

You’d overheard enough of the conversation to identify the next drop location and possible link to the homicide before one of the guards spotted you.

“You two lost?” the guard asked.

You stumbled and giggled holding onto Tim for support.

Without missing a beat, Tim smiled, slipped an arm around your waist “Sorry. My wife has had an awful lot to drink tonight, just looking for somewhere quiet.”

You blinked. My wife? You recovered instantly, looping your arm through his, giggling.

“Baby, it wasn’t thaaaatt much to drink” you slur covering your face with your free hand giggling.

The guard rolled his eyes and waved them away. Only once they were safely around the corner did they stop. Tim slowly let his arm fall.

“You called me your wife.” You laugh poking his arm.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“Ok, sure.” You say leaning away from him.

“It got us out of there.”

“No my fantastic drunk acting got us out of there” You smile “I’m not complaining though, being called your wife.” You smile softly.

Your eyes met again. Tim seemingly didn’t want to look away.

Angela and Harper watching and hearing the security feed from the command van.

Angela sighed dramatically “They’re going to kill me.”

Harper frowned “Why?”

“Because if neither of them admits they’re into the other soon” Angela shook her head. “I’m going to lock them in an interrogation room until they talk. Or threaten to shoot one of them, whichever is easier”

[moonyswolfie]

Forever and a Day

i bent the timeline like a glowstick and merely used it as a suggestion at this point. to be fair, the rookie timeline is incredibly confusing and to that end, i just jumbled it up a bit and made my own 🤷🏼‍♀ for the sake of preserving some canon adjacent logic, tim is somewhere in his late 20s in this (the flashback at least), which in my head means that he would probably be sliiiiightly more likely to show SOME emotion. i also molded some scenes after the bailan separation from season 8. i have been working on this piece for the better part of the past two weeks and initially, it was supposed to be a drabble, and it was supposed to be light and teasing and essentially a crack fic. and then it got out of hand, so here's 26 pages and 8.3k words of flangst with a side of emotional devastation.

content warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut, suggestive comments, 18+, fluff and angst, criminal minds crossover, criminal minds 5x9 mentioned, haley's death mentioned, death and sadness, anxiety, the rookie and criminal minds canonical violence, the rookie 5x22 mentioned, angela lopez being a moddlesome friend, lucy being a tease, happy ending

summary: life is a storm, full of unpredictable moments. but even when you feel like a ship lost at sea, tim will always be there to guide you home.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x formerBAU!reader

main masterlist | the rookie masterlist

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Of course, you knew the risks, you’d been properly warned about the men you’d be dealing with and how dangerous they were based on their history and priors. Hell, Grey even made a list ranking the individuals from the highest to the lowest level threat.

They called you in for a consult, then for an assist. You evaluated the situation and offered your expertise.

But that was hours ago. Now, you were pacing the hospital family room, anxiety eating away at every last shred of patience you had left in your body, while your husband was getting checked out by medical professionals after getting thrown around quite a bit. You checked your watch every 4 minutes, hoping someone would come in and tell you that everything was okay, that Tim was going to be just fine.

If nothing else, then just so you could properly yell at him for not listening when the two of you finally got home.

- five hours prior -

You saw the list for what it was: a logical order in which to tick off possible suspects. But after working in behavioral science for so many years, you recognised some patterns your fellow officers did not.

Hired muscle – either for a job the mastermind did not want to do, or was incapable of completing on their own. So show of force or human shield?

Hurting and tormenting, but never stepping over the line – cowardice or intention?

The masks – God, those masks were awful. If Celina’s sketch was to be believed, the intention behind such gory details was to inspire fear, terrorize the recipient of their ire. Still, the main purpose of a mask was to hide one’s identity, help them blend in with the rest of society. If Reid was here, he’d go into some tangent about their history and how useful they’d been throughout the centuries, probably going as far as bringing up the beaked ones used by doctors during the plague. You smiled at the thought. While the creepy factor could be taken into consideration, you didn’t think disease had anything to do with your current sicko.

But the violence exhibited towards extended family and loved ones…that had you thinking outside the box for a moment. Sure, violent offenders tend to attack first and never really ask questions. If someone interferes, they could end up caught in the crossfire. But this…this feels different. This feels…researched.

“Eliminate anyone who has not served time from the list.”

A few clicks later, one name disappeared.

“What are you thinking?”

Your eyes met Tim’s and you pursed your lips before speaking.

“These attacks…Aaron and Celina are both cops. Nolan too. Bailey could be seen as collateral damage, especially because she fought back. But with Nyla…”

Your gaze moved to the detective in question, her dark eyes already on you, piecing together the puzzle you were laying down before them.

“They didn’t lay a hand on me.”

“No, and James wasn’t a target either. If they were to follow the preset pattern, you two would have been in a much shittier shape. Leah tho…whoever did this knew that getting to your baby was how they would get to you.”

Lucy frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So you’re saying we’re being watched?”

You nod, turning towards the board, taking in the names and the faces once more.

“That would be my theory, yes. Or maybe researched? It’s what led me to believe whoever did this spent some time behind bars. With nothing better to do day in and day out, most inmates plot their revenge once they get out. And they have access to computers, so who’s to say they didn’t do a little digging?”

Tim frowns, turning to Sergeant Grey, who was sporting a similar expression.

“Any of them placed in isolation? That would limit access to prison facilities.”

“One.”

Another click, and another profile disappeared off the screen.

“What else?”

You hum, leaning back on the desk behind you, and cocking your head to the side.

“First offense. First time they got locked up. From the second arrest forward, they are more than used to the system, they’d probably fallen into a routine. They wouldn’t react much to being incarcerated yet again. This guy…prison left an impression – a terrible one – on him.”

Tim hums, before taking the tablet from Grey and applying the filters you requested. Four names.

“I’m impressed. Was sad to lose you to the Bureau, but I gotta give them credit where credit’s due. You’re one hell of a profiler, kid.”

“Not a profiler anymore, Wade. Just one by training.”

After graduating the Academy, you’d been assigned to Mid-Wilshire for your rookie year. It’s where you met Tim, a newly minted P2 with a strong sense of justice and ambition for days. Him and Isabel were kind of a thing back then, flirting over the radio, having lunch together on breaks, and overall basking in the joys of new love. But then she made detective and transferred to a different precinct, leaving him and the white picket fence dream behind. They’d tried to keep it going for a while, sneaking in dates every now and again, but once her first UC assignment came, whatever fragile bond they had been carefully trying to keep alive shattered. Tim threw himself into the job even harder, focusing on doing everything by the book and keeping his eyes open, in case any chance for promotion presented itself. Work was easy – well, easier – as it kept him on a strict schedule, a comfortable routine.

And then you came along – or rather, started getting out of your shell more – and he was a goner.

By the time you made P2 yourself, Grey pulled Tim aside and told him about the training officer test that was to take place in ten months, offered advice and left the younger officer with a reading list meant to help him get ahead with the required material. Tim took advantage of every opportunity to study and get familiarized with the books, even going as far as to sit alone during lunch with a pen and a highlighter nearby, or ask whoever was patrolling with him to read the text aloud while he drove – to save some time, as he’d said every time his request was met with raised eyebrows.

It didn’t take long until you were the one occupying the passenger seat in his shop, filling the silence with police procedure and teaching tactics, and even quizzing him in between calls on some of the trickier methods. Tim asked to be partnered up with you more, and eventually pushed to have you assigned with him permanently.

Wade Grey did not know what to expect after Bradford knocked on the glass door of his office.

“What did you break?”

“Uh..nothing?”

“Is the station on fire?”

Tim frowned.

“Not that I know of.”

“Then why are you here before roll call?”

“I have a request.”

Grey’s hands stilled on the paperwork in front of him, eyes now focusing on Tim who appeared almost sheepish, like a child in trouble, standing in the doorway.

“Well, that’s new.”

Tim said your name softly, almost a whisper.

“I want to be paired up with her permanently, if possible, Sir. Please.”

“Why?”

Tim spent a whole of five minutes singing your praises, all for Wade’s entertainment really, but the Sergeant listened carefully and patiently. Truth be told, he saw no issue in granting this request, but he couldn’t help being a little nosy.

“Alright, alright. But I’m warning you, Tim, if this decision turns into an HR nightmare because you two can’t stop making googly eyes at each other…”

Pink crept up on Tim’s cheeks as he shook his head vehemently.

“That won’t happen, Sir.”

Grey regarded him with a skeptical look, somehow not fully convinced this won’t take a turn. In what direction, specifically, he isn’t sure, though.

“Mhm. Dismissed.”

Tim enjoyed your company – on and off duty. It started innocently enough, with you being the only one who wasn’t questioning his study techniques and actually finding creative ways to help him retain the information he needed. You joined him on lunch break and presented him with hypothetical scenarios, inquiring about his chosen methods of solving the problems. Then you started coming in early, two cups of coffee in your hand, taking advantage of the extra hour to simply talk as the caffeine kicked in. It took a while before your topics of conversation switched from work related to more personal, more intimate – but still in a professional and respectful manner. You’d talked about your college days and he told you stories from his army days and a few happier moments from his deployments. You’d shared a little about your family and he told you about Genny and his mom. The love he held for the most important women in his life was palpable and endearing, and truly, you couldn’t help but listen completely enthralled. You swapped a few nostalgic stories from your childhood – he deliberately left out all the painful ones. It was slow, a gradual change, but he could see your shy demeanor crack, replaced instead by a charming and witty young woman who would not hesitate to knock some sense into her partner if need be. 

The workout sessions came next. You already knew he was an early bird, and with so much ahead of him during shift, he liked to get a workout in before roll call. One time you caught him just as he was coming out of the gym, so he asked if you’d like to join him in the mornings. And really, who were you to say no? Getting closer over time, the both of you were starting to feel a connection – something a lot stronger than he’d felt with Isabel, he was sure. You’d said yes, of course. Truth be told, you had a crush on him since the first time you got paired together in the field and all the time spent together, slowly getting to know each other better, only served to make your feelings grow. And getting to see him all worked up from punching the bag or lifting weights? You’d resign yourself to no sleep if it meant you got to enjoy that sight every day.

And enjoy you did. The first morning you two spent in the gym you could barely focus on your own routine, too busy ogling Tim and trying not to drool when he lifted his shirt up to wipe the sweat of his face and his abs were on full display.

He had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way he was oblivious to the effect he had on you, especially when he had to repeat himself two or three times when directing questions your way, as you were far too busy memorizing every beautifully toned inch of his body.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m good, just…pushed too hard on the weights.”

He knew, of course, but pretended he didn’t notice, if only to take in your awed expression every time his muscles flexed or his shirt lifted just right, exposing a sliver of skin just above the waistband of his sweatpants.

It was flattering, sue him for indulging.

But the attraction was not one-sided, as he found himself staring at you across the room, taking in your profile, how cute you looked in those adorable workout sets you favoured – and damn him, he might have gotten hard once or twice as he watched you go through each step of your routine methodically.

But really, can you blame him? The way your body glides through each practiced move, the little frown of concentration between your brows, the soft grunts that slip past your lips as you work on your upper body strength. It’s distracting and mesmerizing all the same, and Tim cannot seem to get enough.

Enough time with you, enough insight into your private little world that you oh so graciously invited him into, enough of you.

By now you’d been patrolling together for a little over three months – as per his insistent request to Sergeant Grey – and training together for a total of seven weeks. Rushed coffees before morning briefing turned into breakfast on your days off, usually at your favourite diner down the road from the precinct. It was nothing fancy, really, but it was sweet and cozy and comforting and Tim learned pretty quick that he can’t seem to be able to deny you anything. He’s pretty sure he’d do anything you ask of him at this point, if only you do it while looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes.

Despite you growing more confident around him, there’s still an air of sweet innocence surrounding you, and he almost feels guilty intruding on it. But then you bite your lip as you wait for his reply, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip while your eyes do a sweep of the neighborhood you’d just entered, and the guilt is suddenly squashed by an overwhelming need to claim you, make you his, and never let you go.

Six months into this little arrangement, he asked you out on a date. An actual dinner date, not a brief lunch squeezed in between technical books and educational roleplay. The exam was a month away, but enough time was dedicated towards this endeavor that both of you were certain he’d pass with flying colors. Some worries were still there, sure, he wouldn’t get cocky and stop revising, but he also refused to let this opportunity pass, unable to let you go another day without knowing how he feels about you.

Tim didn’t realize how nervous he really was to ask you out until he was standing before you outside the locker rooms, fidgeting with his duty belt while trying to get the words out. It’s safe to say that you never thought you’d see the day Tim Bradford got flustered over a date. When he finally managed to formulate a coherent sentence, you watched his cheeks go pink, the tips of his ears red, and how his hand automatically moved to nervously rub the back of his neck.

He was positively adorable, and all you wanted was to capture the moment and have it replay forever in your mind.

“Would you, maybe…would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Instead of a verbal reply, you let a playful smile tug the corners of your mouth upwards while you grabbed the collar of his uniform shirt, pulling him down and into a deep kiss. To say he was taken by surprise would be an understatement. Granted, he wasn’t sure what to expect, exactly, but his sweet and shy partner taking matters into her own hands was not on the list. He reciprocated immediately, one hand landing on the small of your back, bringing you closer, while the other settled at the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers playing with a few bobby pins holding your tight bun in place.

Pulling away just enough, you mumble a warning over his lips, getting a chuckle out of him in reply.

“Don’t you dare, Bradford.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Mess up the bun I spent a total of 25 minutes taming and you will be sorry.”

He raised his hands in surrender, a playful smile still on his lips.

“Good boy.”

Tim felt as if he’d been electrocuted. Those two words you just murmured – for his ears only – had no business getting him as hot and bothered as they did. Sure, you’d been growing more comfortable in his presence, but this -

Well then.

Tim let a small smirk settle over his lips as he regarded you with newfound interest. He was quite intrigued by this new discovery, wanting to look further, dig deeper, and peel back each and every layer until no part of you was left uncharted.

It took another week before the best kept secret at Mid-Wilshire was aired out by none other than Officer Smitty: the betting pool.

You’d just finished the paperwork for your latest arrest, passing the final pages to Tim for the last signature when Angela Lopez appeared behind you, all teasing energy and absolutely no mercy.

“…disgusting.”

Tim lifts his head, watching her with a confused frown as his patience visibly evaporates.

“What?”

Angela gestures vaguely between the two of you and the paperwork in front of you that you seemed to have completed in perfect sync.

“I don’t know when this became a marriage, but congratulations. I expect an invitation when you actually exchange vows.”

She left just as quickly as she appeared, leaving her two closest and what she thought to be her most oblivious friends to figure it out on their own.     

A lot of confusion later, Smitty clarified the situation.

“There’s a bet going on about when you’ll finally man up and ask her out.”

Tim’s gaping like a fish while you try your hardest to hold back a giggle.

“Excuse me?”

However, you’re more interested in who’s on the list and how much money they’d gathered thus far. If you knew anything about Angela Lopez, it was that she loved winning. And it wasn’t even about the money itself, it was about the principle of being undefeated. So her jab earlier about you and Tim acting all domestic? You saw it for what it was: she was trying to win, and her window was closing up fast.

Turning towards Tim with a mischievous smile on your face, you lifted the list so he could see.

“Should we give her this win?”

Tim scoffed.

“Absolutely not. Our relationship is not for their entertainment.”

“Oh, so we’re in a relationship now?”

Your teasing got you the exact results you were hoping for: a blushing and stuttering Tim Bradford.

One date turned into two, three - and then every week, like clockwork, you two would turn your phones off and enjoy a night off, away from the precinct and emergencies and the chaos of your work life. You loved your job, you really did, but you were slowly starting to love something else more. Or rather someone.

But every beautiful story comes with its rough patches, and yours almost burst the surreal bubble you allowed to envelop your developing relationship with Tim.

A little over a year after you two started dating, you caught a joint case with the FBI, specifically the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The case was tricky, the unsub harder to catch than anyone anticipated, but after a grueling week of failed attempts, the cuffs were on and the guy was on his was to prison. You’d enjoyed working with the team, even went so far as to exchange numbers with the girls, promising to keep in touch and make a girls night out happen the next time they were in LA.

Agent Hotchner was really impressed with your work, and he told you as much. Whether it was a passing comment or an encouragement of sorts, he did mention how valuable you’d be to the Bureau, if you ever considered joining. The idea floored you momentarily, but then you brushed it off as him simply being polite or maybe repeating some rehearsed speech used on countless officers over the years in an attempt to poach them over to their team.

But three weeks later, an official offer came in the mail.

You and Tim had just moved in together and if you could barely keep your hands off each other before, now you seriously wondered how you’d ever get anything done if the both of you were reluctant to leave each other’s side for more than five minutes at a time. Angela was relentless in her teasing, joking that you’re the only couple she’s ever met who’s yet to leave the honeymoon phase after so many months together. Somehow, the teasing didn’t bother you. If anything, it gave you a sense of pride, proving that what you and Tim built together was strong enough to withstand anything, event the test of time.

That morning he was making breakfast while you thumbed through the mail you just collected from the front door. Between takeout menus and the occasional promotional pamphlet, nothing really stood out. Until a crisp white envelope with the FBI logo stopped you in your tracks, halfway through the door, left hand frozen just above it.

“Sweetheart? Everything okay?”

After flipping a pancake in the pan, he turned towards you, giving you his undivided attention. You handed him the envelope, still unopened, your mind unable to fully wrap around the possibility waiting tucked away neatly inside.

“Is this…?”

“Not sure, haven’t opened it yet. But if I had to guess, most likely.”

Tim handed you back the envelope, and sure enough, there was a job offer inside. Staring at the paper, you weren’t sure how to feel about the whole ordeal. It was a little unconventional, for starters, usually one would have to apply and get accepted, only then starting the official training at the Academy in Quantico – you’d never really heard of agents being invited to join. But this offer was different – it came from Agent Hotchner personally.

You went very quiet as you read and reread the contents of the letter, and Tim felt his stomach sink. Suddenly, he was no longer standing in your shared kitchen, but in a long-forgotten bedroom, in a house that echoed with the sounds of his heart slowly breaking. He watched helplessly as the woman he once loved gathered every proof of her existence, packed it away neatly in a duffel bag, exiting his life as if she’d never been there in the first place.

“I’m not going.”

The sound of your voice brought him back to the present, and relief flooded his body for a brief moment, before guilt took its place, settling onto him like a parasite.

“What?”

“I’m not going.”

Setting the rest of the junk mail aside, you tucked the letter back into the envelope, closing it and setting it on the counter. You’d move it to the shredding pile later on.

“Why?”

Cocking your head to the side, you let an amused smile play on your lips.

“Oh? Trying to get rid of me already, Officer?”

You knew he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t. But being playful was easier than addressing feelings right off the bat. You knew a conversation was now inevitably due, but you weren’t sure you were ready for it yet.

“God, no! But I love you too much to be selfish and ask you to stay just for me” he turned the burner off and stepped closer, eyes holding your gaze with purpose “this is an amazing opportunity, sweetheart. And as much as it would hurt to come home every night and walk these halls with only your memory and snippets of the life we were supposed to have, I couldn’t possibly hold you back. I can survive missing you, baby, but I couldn’t survive becoming your regret.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Tim closed the remaining distance between you in two long strides, cupping your face oh so gently in his large, calloused hands, and brushing his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away the tears.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be forever. You can consult on long-distance cases over the phone..”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him you couldn’t, but something told you that you didn’t need to, because he already knew – yet was still trying to put on a strong front for you. God, you loved this man. You really, really loved him.

So how could you ever fathom leaving him?

“Or you could always be assigned to the LA field office after graduating. You are an amazing officer, so I wouldn’t be surprised to see more units fighting to have you on their team.”

“That is an incredibly slim chance, Tim.”

“But a chance nonetheless.”

Your eyes never leave his face as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, your own fingers wrapping gently around his.

“You’d risk that? You’d take that chance on me?”

A few treacherous tears gather on his lash line, but he blinks them away before they have a chance to fall, trying to mute the emotion with a watery smile.

“I’m not much of a gambler, but I’d still bet on you every single time.”

The next two days are spent discussing this offer at length, each of you laying down your fears, emotions and all the changes this move would imply. The magnetic whiteboard in your office is filled with pros and cons lists, written and erased so many times that the ink is barely visible over the smudges of your previous arguments. Despite laying everything out in the open though, there is one little elephant in the room both you and Tim keep dancing around, neither wanting to be the one to bring it up: what this would mean for your relationship long-term.

And when it becomes obvious that neither of you will break the ice, you latch onto first bullet point on your cons column: the Academy.

“I don’t…I really don’t want to go through basic training again.”

Tim raises one eyebrow, head tilted to the side in confusion. He was just as perplexed when you wrote it down in the first place.

“Baby, that should be the least of your worries. With your Police Academy scores and all the experience you gained from your time on patrol, you’d ace it in no time.”

“I know I would, I just don’t want to go through all that again.”

There’s a subtle note of petulance in your voice, one that has Tim’s lips twitching in amusement. He turns his whole body to face you where you’re both seated on the leather couch in the office, tugging softly on your hand to bring you into his lap. You go willingly, settling against his chest, your arms around his neck and your knees bracketing his hips. You’re sure you resemble more of a koala than a human at the moment, but you don’t really care. You just want to be close to him, feel his warm skin against your own, breathe in the subtle scent of his fading cologne.

“Baby..”

You hum, content to just hide away with your face in the space between his neck and shoulder that you swear was carved out just for you.

“Want to tell me the real reason?”

“That is the real reason. I don’t want to go through being a recruit again, being a rookie again. Did you know they do 18 months of probation, not 13?”

He did not, and the idea sounded equally unappealing to him, but he’s supposed to encourage you, not bring you down.

“I just…” you pull away slightly, needing to look him in the eye “I’m happy where I am, I’m happy with my job, my life, my relationship – I am so damn happy here, with you. I don’t want to go through a complete one eighty when I’m just starting to feel like everything is right as it should be. And…” you bite your lip, eyes stinging with the threat of tears “I cannot bear the thought of missing even a moment with you. Not now, not ever.”

Your words break the last shield keeping his emotions in check, and before you realize what’s happening, Tim’s arms tighten around your torso, your head tucked safely under his chin as a relieved breath echoes through the room.

“Thank you. I really, really, don’t want you to go.”

You chuckle, a soft sound muffled by his shirt, as his long fingers thread themselves through your hair.

“I know. I knew the moment I saw your face when the logo on the envelope registered for you. But it feels a thousand times better to hear you say it.”

Tim frowns.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

A watery smile is the only thing you can manage before a sob breaks free. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to compose yourself before daring to trust your voice again.

“Because you are many things, Tim Bradford, but a selfish man you are not. And no matter how much I’d have needed you to hold on tight, you’d still have let me go at the cost of your own happiness.”

A charming combination of fondness and exasperation colored his features as he shook his head, but you saw the raw emotion hidden underneath, the one he’d tried to harness and tame before it took over. He leaned his forehead on yours, both of your eyes closing as a feeling of peace settled over the room for the first time since the arrival of the letter.

“I would never, ever, hold you back from a life changing opportunity. I need you to know that. If it were up to me, I’d handcuff us together and never worry about anything ever coming between us again” your light giggle met his words, instantly bringing a smile to his lips “but it’s your life, baby, not mine. I don’t get to decide, I’m just grateful to be along for the ride.”

Fisting the front of his shirt, you dragged him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as tears continued to stain your flushed cheeks. His hands traveled down to your hips, his grip tight and possessive, and you didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but the arms of the man you loved with your whole heart.

“I love you, my stubborn, stubborn man.”

“I love you, my sweetest girl.”

The next morning found you drafting a reply and an honestly worded apology, emailing it to Agent Hotchner first thing Monday morning. You honestly thought that was that and you’d be going back to your life as you knew it, but the universe had other plans.

Not even a month later, a new letter found its way into your mail box, the embossed envelope containing a brand new, incredibly hard to reject offer. It wasn’t a request to join the team as a full-fledged profiler, but more of a flexible consultant position. You’d still have to take the profiling courses at the Academy and shadow the team on cases until you graduated so you could gain some first-hand experience, but it would spare you from going through another six months of basics, as your background in law enforcement was more than enough to check all the boxes. You could graduate quicker, take on the role, and start consulting on cases within the next three months.

And you could do that from Los Angeles.

Burying your face in your palms, you allow yourself a minute to feel everything – every conflicting emotion, every scenario, every possible outcome, good and bad alike. You’d already said you wouldn’t go, already gave up this silly idea…

The first letter sparked some hope in you – you were damn good at your job and you knew it, but external validation has always been your weakness. The recognition coming from the Bureau put some gears into motion, and you found yourself looking into possibilities for advancement soon after. That is not to say that Tim has never brought it up – he did, countless times. He’s always been your biggest cheerleader and the best support system you could ever ask for, but there was a nagging little voice in the back of your mind that kept holding you back, making you doubt your worth at times.

Impressing some of the best people in the agency wasn’t unheard of. Bypassing mandatory steps in the process of recruiting, however, was. That’s why that first letter…you couldn’t bring yourself to shred it. You debated for several nights, argued with yourself over the necessity to keep it – what was the point, really, if you would not go through with it? Ultimately, you slipped it into one of your desk drawers and called it a day. It would serve as a keepsake, if nothing else. A reminder that you were good enough, that you were the best damned cop the city of Los Angeles has ever seen – per Tim’s carefully curated words – and that you could and would survive anything anyone threw your way.

You meant every word during your discussion with Tim. You meant it when you said you wouldn’t go, you meant it when you confidently affirmed you would not regret it, and you meant it when you said you couldn’t fathom leaving him. If it ever came down to a choice between him and work, nothing – nothing – was ever going to be more important than him. Nothing will ever even compare, or come close.

But this letter changed the game. Because it didn’t imply finality, it didn’t ask for separation – not a permanent one, at least – and it didn’t threaten the stability of the life you’d created together. It requested a pause – and it is up to you to grant or deny it.

Maybe – maybe you could have it all.

When Tim came through the door three hours later, he found you applying the finishing touches to a heavenly smelling dinner surrounded by the loudest silence he’d ever witnessed between the walls of your shared home. It unsettled him, and as he toed off his shoes, arranging them neatly by the door, he softly called out your name.

“I’m surprised there is no uncomfortably detailed true crime podcast to go with the steak.”

His joke was not met with laughter, or even a chuckle. Instead, it seemed to make you nervous, fidgeting with the rosemary you were carefully applying to the juicy meat still sizzling in the pan. He frowned, worry now sinking its claws into his chest, and his hands found your waist, pulling you into his arms as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

“What happened?”

You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but to no avail. Sighing softly, you melted into his arms. It was now or never.

“They sent another letter.”

Tim felt the world crumbling around him, your touch his only grounding light in a dark ocean of dread. He didn’t need any additional explanation. He knew, by the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes, the almost robotic nature of your movements, the quiet surrounding your intertwined figures.

God, the quiet. He hated it. It felt suffocating and damning, severing any lingering hope and giving way to devastation.

“You should go.”

The words felt foreign, bitter on his tongue. He couldn’t even recognize his own voice.

“You don’t even know what they offered.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You pull away slightly, enough to meet his eyes without letting go of him, and the heartbroken expression on your face, your lower lip trembling and eyes pooling with unshed tears is enough to bring him to his knees.

But he has to stay strong. For the both of you.

“You want this, angel. And you can lie to yourself all you want, but you’ve wanted this when it was offered the first time around too. And that’s okay, you’re allowed to want things even when they don’t align with the plans we made.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you clear your throat, hoping the voice that comes out is not as broken as you feel.

“What about us?”

He hates how unsure you sound, how small, despite aiming for the complete opposite. His arms tighten around you, his hold meant to convey what his words seem to be failing.

“Us was never the plan, sweetheart. Us is the nucleus around which the plans were built. But they were never, not for a moment, meant to trap you.”

“I’m not trapped, Tim. How could you even think that?”

The sad smile stretching the corners of his mouth tells you that he sees right through your deflection.

“You know what I mean.”

Your throat bobbed with emotion.

“I know.”

A second passes.

“I can still say no.”

A gentle shake of his head.

“Don’t sacrifice the rest of your life just so I don’t have to learn how to miss you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut in a failed attempt to will the emotion away, you let out a shaky laugh.

“Now it really feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Your joke falls flat, however, when an equally trembling Tim places the gentlest of kisses on your forehead, cocooning you deeper in the safety of him, away from the rest of the world, uttering hauntingly similar words to the ones declared confidently a month ago.

“I would never. But I can’t be the reason you look back years from now and wonder ‘what if’.”

Shaking your head, you regard him with a mix of annoyance and adoration, tears cascading silently down your rosy cheeks. You knew he didn’t want you to go, not really. You also knew how much it gutted him to be the voice of reason, encouraging you to go and not waste a once – well, twice – in a lifetime opportunity.

“You beautiful, amazing, self-sacrificing softie. You’re supposed to ask me to stay.”

A wavering chuckle escapes his lips, tear tracks evident on his own face.

“I know, angel, but I can’t. You know I can’t. But I’ll be here when you come back.”

There was no skirting around it this time around though, not when your heart constricted inside your chest so painfully, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

“Will you wait for me?”

You were almost too afraid to hear the answer, closing your eyes in a last, pitiful attempt at preserving hope – or willing this whole evening to be nothing more than a dream you’ll soon wake up from. You were not sure which option sounded more appealing at the moment.

“I’d wait forever and a day if it meant I got to hold you in my arms again, even for a fleeting moment.”

His fingers run gently up and down your spine in a soothing motion. But if it was for you or for him, you could not say.

“But don’t mistake learning to exist in your absence for me desiring it.”

It took several hours filled with more tears than you’d ever cried in your life before you finally got the chance to tell him what the second offer was about. Six weeks of courses, followed by an additional four of hands-on experience. After that, you’d be free to consult from anywhere, especially from home.

The idea seemed to lighten the tense atmosphere just a smidge, but it was enough to rekindle the hope that maybe – maybe you could do this. You could have it all, if you only dared.

The first week was the hardest, for both you and Tim. The move, the schedule, the time zones – but most of all, the sleeping alone. You’ve not spent a single night apart since you started sleeping together, and adjusting – even temporarily – to a cold and empty bed was, for lack of a better word, brutal.

The doubt crept in during the second week. Doubt that you can pull this off, doubt that your relationship can survive, doubt that you can go back and pick up right where you left off.

By the third week, you’d given yourself a strong pep-talk and Tim offered his gentle reassurances.

The fourth week dulled the ache momentarily, as you got sucked into the mess of notes you couldn’t seem to make sense of anymore.

Week five felt infinite because you knew you were so close to the finish line, you could almost taste it. But still had a little more than a month left.

By the time you finished your crash course in profiling and got your well-deserved new credentials, your confidence returned in full force, and it didn’t hurt that Tim insisted on celebrating you – as well as possible with so many kilometers between you – by sending over cake and champagne.

You called, texted and face-timed every day, outright refusing to allow this separation the chance to ruin everything. The both of you were stubborn and in love, and they say distance makes the heart grow fonder – so you leaned heavily into it and made sure to build up enough anticipation that by the time you finally saw each other again in person, it would feel as if you’d never left.

Joining the team on cases was an interesting experience to say the least. You were called out on two during the  first week – your seventh week in D.C. – and only ended up in the emergency room once. New personal record, if you do say so yourself. Thankfully, it was nothing major, and you were cleared for active duty right away.

The third case, however, it hit home in a way none other had.

Agent Hotchner was not an open book. He kept things close to the vest, and if it weren’t for Morgan’s brief mention of Jack – which you later learned was your boss’ son – you would never have known the man had a whole family tucked away safely in the care of Witness Protection after an infamous serial killer threatened them directly.

The third case was the team working on the DL to gather as much information about George Foyet without raising suspicion – and it worked for a while. His aliases were uncovered, his apartment was found – but the man was nowhere in sight.

And then it happened.

The saddest, most heart wrenching moment you’d ever bear witness to was the moment Haley lost her life, Jack lost his mother, and Aaron Hotchner lost everything.

You were not a superstitious person by any means, but hearing the events unfold over the phone, the gunshots deafening in the confines of the car, and Aaron’s desperate plea for his son to work the case with him – it put things into perspective. And as if that wasn’t enough, the moment you reached their home – now an active crime scene – and made sure to shield Jack from the worst of it, taking him outside and guarding him with your life until Hotch managed to put himself together enough because his son needed him…it solidified your decision.

Because spending your whole life chasing that one perfect moment when everything aligned just so could blindside you, all the while time could swoop in and take it all away in a heartbeat.

You flew back home right after the funeral.

You were buzzing with nervous energy the whole way home, excitement and apprehension twisting your stomach while your mind created a dozen scenarios to keep you occupied. You’ve not told a soul – aside from your team and Chief Strauss when you requested a transfer to the LA field office – and were terrified of Tim’s reaction. On one hand, you knew he’d be happy, thrilled, relieved to see you. On the other, you couldn’t help wondering if something changed while you were away, if your selfish decision would lead to an imminent break up.

Tim reassured you countless times over the past weeks that wanting this and doing this was not selfish or cruel, that he supported anything you decided to do and that really, it was only fair considering how much your contribution and your support helped him on his way to becoming a T.O.

The team understood. Hotch understood better than anyone and even encouraged you to go back, to not waste a moment more. Chasing glory is meaningless when you have no one to share it with.

The plan was perfect, its structure flawlessly displayed on your notebook.

But as you find yourself standing on the porch, hand hovering and unsure above the doorknob, you pause. What if he changed his mind? What if…

You knock, before your brain has a chance to steal your courage, and you take the time before the sound of footsteps reaches your ears to steel your nerves.

An incredibly sleep-rumpled Tim opens the door, his left hand rubbing lazily at his eyes. You didn’t even think about how late it was, that he would be asleep, that he’s got an early shift tomorrow.

But all the insecurities and the second guessing fly out the window the second his brain registers the sight in front of him. His body goes still, eyes wide with doubt and hope, hand suspended between you – not an invitation, but not a rejection either. His mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words, but what are the right words?

You speak before he has a chance to, however, and by then he’s sure he’s dreaming, or at the very least imagining things.

“Marry me.”

“You’re here.”

An incredulous chuckle leaves your lips, and honestly, what did you expect, showing up at the door at two in the morning?

“I’m here.”

The stunned expression on his face seems to be slowly morphing towards wonder and hope and something else you cannot quite read.

“What are you doing here?”

There’s no malice in his words, no reproach – just a man, hoping against hope that this is not yet another illusion.

You bite your lip and allow the tears you valiantly held back for so long fall, scalding your cheeks on their way down, before being erased by the gentle California wind.

“I came home. I can’t waste any more time.”

Tim frowns, still trying his hardest to shake his sleep-addled brain awake.

“I kept thinking I had more time, kept embracing later like a life line and not a poor excuse, kept waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect chance to do this right. But then I had to watch someone lose everything in a second, had to witness one of the strongest men I know break apart at the seams and drown in guilt and so much regret, and I can’t pretend that tomorrow is guaranteed. So this is me choosing to live my life the way it is instead of waiting around for absurd and impossible perfection. Because as long as I have you, life is already perfect. It’s whole and happy and everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t lose you before I ever really had you, Tim. So I came home. To you. Because you are my home.”

You draw in a shaky breath.

“So, marry me?”

Instead of a reply, Tim disappears back inside the house, leaving you raw and bleeding on your porch. A million scenarios run rampant through your head, but before you can settle on the worst, he reappears, this time holding something in his right hand.

Visibly more awake and clearly still processing your confession, he lifts his hand, the streetlight illuminating the black velvet box he opens a moment later.

“You stole my line.”

Dropping the backpack and the jacket that was merely draped over your shoulders like a cape, both objects joining your suitcases already parked to the side, you very unceremoniously jump into his already awaiting arms – and for the first time in two months, you’re home.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you” he whispers so softly, and if his lips were not right next to you ear you might have missed it “will you marry me?”

His cheeky smile is met with a choked sob and a determined nod of your head.

“Try and stop me.”

present time

Nurse Lisa – your favourite nurse in this entire hospital – came to get you when all the tests and scans were done and your husband was stationed in a patient room down the hall.

“He’s going to be just fine. We’re only waiting on the blood work now, but the scans were clear so he shouldn’t be in any danger.”

You thanked her before entering the room where a pretty banged up Tim and Lucy were taking a moment to catch their breaths after possibly their biggest scare in a long time. Crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned in the doorway, fixing Tim with a stern look, to which he responded with a sheepish smile.

“Hi honey.”

Lucy stifles a chuckle, her eyes switching between the two of you as if she’s watching a very entertaining tennis match.

“Don’t you ‘hi honey’ me. You almost died.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Tim..”

“I’m bulletproof.”

“Tim.”

The way your voice cracks at the end wipes away the teasing smile on his face in an instant.

“I’m sorry.”

You nod, not trusting your voice just yet.

“You were right. We should have reversed tactics, focused on the bottom of the list with more resources.”

“Thank you. I hope next time you ask for my expertise, you also follow through with the plan.”

“I won’t ever doubt you again.”

You snort, unable to hold back.

“You will.”

“I will.”

“But that’s okay. I know who I married.”

A grin spreads across his incredibly handsome face – bruises and all – and he motions for you to take a sit on the edge of his hospital bed. You end up sitting more in his lap than on the actual bed, but you’re not really complaining. Right now, you just want to feel him close. Alive. Breathing.

“You’re on bed rest the second we get home.”

He groans, rolling his eyes and trying to protest.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Tim. You scared the hell out of me today, so until I can trust that you are fully healed and won’t strain yourself unnecessarily, I’m taking care of you.”

That seems to grab his attention, but you notice the teasing glint in his eyes a second too late.

“Kinky. Will you also be wearing a sexy nurse outfit?”

You roll your eyes so hard, you’re pretty sure you saw your brain.

“Timothy.”

“What? It’s a valid question.”

“Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk already playing on his lips.

“Is that an option?”

“Behave.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The both of you seemed to have forgotten about the third person in the room, watching this whole thing unfold with such glee on her sweet face, you’d think Santa came early.

“I don’t know what is happening, but I cannot wait to tell Lopez.”

[buckysdecaflove]

The best sidekick.

All my stories are R18. I write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.

Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (might as well say Bucky Barnes & Alpine)

Warning/Tags: Fluff, Alpine gets injured, but nothing bad happens, I promise. Light, very light angst.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: Bucky ends up adopting a cat who becomes his favorite human being in the world after you.

Author's Note: This one is a request from my baby @maplesyrizzup! So thanks to you, baby! I love you! Not beta read!

Bucky’s life was becoming something new; he was even taking therapy with Dr. Raynor. Not because he wanted to; they were mandatory sessions issued by the government. And then, you.

You came like an unannounced miracle and made yourself at home in his heart. He learned to appreciate the small things in life and started to notice things.

Flowers growing in the roadway—in a place where they shouldn’t be growing.

The smell of the small bakery shop he learned it was there after the third time you stayed for the night at his apartment, and you took him there to buy some pastries.

That’s how he found Alpine.

He was walking down the street after a rough session, trying to find a place to buy a coffee that didn’t need more than a ten-word interaction.

A small, gaudy nose came from an alleyway. He didn’t really understand why, but started to walk into it.

Then, he recognized the sound.

It was the whimpering of a cat.

He scrabbled through a dumpster and found it.

A white, almost like snow, furry cat.

“Why the hell are you here?” Bucky muttered as he scooped it into his arms and covered it with his leather jacket to protect it from the icy night breeze.

He scrabbled through the dumpster once again—just to be sure no other kitten was in there. When he didn’t find anything else, he felt some relief.

‘What does a cat eat? —Bucky.’

He barely texted you. He hated it. But he was not sure how to tell you that he had taken a stray kitten.

‘Something to tell me, Sergeant?’

Remember you don’t have to write your name explicitly. I got your number saved.’

‘Cat food. —Bucky.’

One second later, your phone rang again

‘Please.’

He had learned one or two manners from you. He was so used to order and be ordered that it took him a while to realize that not everything had to be rough.

Some hours later, you were at his apartment. He was sitting in front of the kitten—it was sleeping in an old hoodie he had outgrown after he beefed up.

“Did you bring all those things by yourself?” He furrowed his brow as soon as he saw you.

You shrugged, “It’s fine. It’s not even that heavy… And who’s the new tenant?” You asked, putting down the multiple things from the pet store.

“It doesn’t have a name yet. But I found it in an alleyway; it was crying on a dumpster.” His eyes were watery. It broke his heart.

“Do we know what it is?” He shook his head. “Well, they are safe and sound now. We just need to prepare this place for it.” You looked down at the bags.

“What’s all that?”

“Cat food, wet and dry, litter box, blankets, a bed, a carrier…” You started to list the things you have bought.

“Do we need all that?”

“That and more.” You knelt in front of Bucky and petted the cat as she curled down at Bucky’s lap.

“What do I have to do?”

“Honey, we can’t keep it so long without getting her checked, microchipped if you want to keep it, spayed, get her shots…”

He furrowed.

“Microchipped?” His voice was full of confusion.

You spent the whole night explaining what was supposed to happen with the cat, how often he had to clean his litter box, the type of food, the visits to the vet, and then he made you spend a good amount of time trying to find a vet that made him feel comfortable enough to go with them in the next appointment available.

The next day, you were standing up in front of the vet. Bucky placed the carrier on the floor, and the cat sat in front of him on the examination table. “And who’s this beautiful thing?”

“Uh… Alpine…” Bucky mumbled. He had spent the whole morning thinking of names, and after an extensive brainstorm, he came up with that name. ‘It reminds me of snow,’ he said fondly.

“That’s a great name; it fits.” She smiled and started to check it.

“We have a cute female kitten.”

She spent the whole appointment explaining the anatomy, what she needed, and how often you two had to return to vaccinate her.

After that, Bucky became the greatest cat dad you had ever seen. She got vaccinated, spayed, and microchipped; she even got a star on her last appointment to get all her vaccines. Bucky was proud of his daughter, as he called her.

And after she was all set, he spent his nights petting her; she loved to be curled down in your lap, to stay still on Bucky’s shoulder.

Sam even became fond of her; if Bucky wanted to take you out of town and Alpine couldn’t come, she would have a great weekend at Uncle Sam’s. Bucky didn’t play about letting her be alone at the apartment. First of all, he was too anxious for that, and second, the couch wouldn’t appreciate being with her unsupervised.

They would walk around the apartment, Bucky with his furrowed brows like the air had personally offended him, and Alpine? You could swear you were seeing a resting bitch face on her. She was his carbon copy, and you loved to see it. She had become his partner-in-crime.

The problem was that Bucky was overprotective of her. She couldn’t sneeze more than once in a minute before Bucky was already taking her to the vet. He just loved her so much to let her suffer even for a minute.

You never told him he was overreacting—you understood he was protecting something the way he would have liked to be protected.

One morning, you had been crafting in the living room—your coffee mug sat on the center table, and before you could even take a sip, Alpine got the zoomies and started running around; unfortunately, she stumbled against it and fell on the floor.

Bucky rushed to lift you with one smooth movement and even tried to carry Alpine to take both of you away from the shattered glass on the floor, but she was faster than him. Bucky tossed you onto the couch and started to pick up all the pieces. He grumbled through his teeth; it was the third cup she had crashed, and one had been his favorite.

But something happened—Alpine hissed loudly and started limping around—he looked around and noticed a blood stain on the floor that followed her.

He ran to pick her up. You jumped, trying to avoid the glass, and approached both. She had stepped on a piece of glass, and even though it didn’t rip hard, it had injured her.

The trip to the vet was the fastest—you carried her in your arms with a blanket; she was not even crying anymore, but Bucky needed to be sure that she was not going to need a stitch. You were sure you had never seen a cat with a stitch before.

The vet knew Bucky already; she was basically in speed dial—and she knew Bucky didn’t play about Alpine. When you finally arrived at the doctor’s office. She was waiting for you in the waiting area.

She was checking her as Bucky leaned on the other side of the table. He wanted to be close, but not close enough to make the vet feel he didn’t trust her. After some minutes, the vet just cleaned up the wound and explained to Bucky she was completely fine but needed to be more careful.

Bucky felt like losing weight from his shoulders.

“I thought she could…”

“What? Lose a paw?” You snorted at the irony—and Bucky realized. He felt like an idiot. “Don’t worry, James. She’ll be fine. She’s stronger than just a piece of glass.”

“Oh, she got it from her mother.” Bucky looked at you and smiled.

The vet smiled too. She loved seeing you two so worried about Alpine, and even loved more seeing you so in love.

“So, she’ll be fine?” You asked, getting closer.

“Just clean her up once every twelve hours, for the next few days, and her body will do the rest.”

Later that night, she was resting with a bandage on his paw that the vet had to shave, and Bucky chuckled every time he saw her.

“Let her alone, or she won’t let us sleep, Barnes.” You scolded from the kitchen.

“She looks so dumb, and for what?”

“Oh, shut up. You were all worried about her earlier.”

He furrowed his brow and picked her up, lifting her above his head—just to look at her. “Of course I was worried; she can’t get injured—she’s my partner. She can’t opt out of any upcoming mission.”

“You got some mission, soldiers?” You turned around and snorted as soon as you saw him lifting her.

“Very secret mission that you can’t know about.”

“Ts’ not fair. She’s a great secret keeper.”

“That’s how I taught her.”

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hello, love your work so much it's gotten me through some tough moments recently, thank you for writing. Can I request a one shot or drabble where reader cries after coming home from work and James comforts her? (007: First Light just in case that wasn't clear :)

A/n: FIRST THAT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME! That is like the sweetest thing, second, I am so os sorry I missed this 😩

The front door clicked shut with a soft, familiar sound that usually brought a smile to your face.

Today, it didn’t.

Your work bag slipped from your shoulder and landed on the hardwood floor with a dull thud. You didn’t even bother taking your shoes off. The weight in your chest felt too heavy to care about muddy footprints or scattered belongings.

James looked up from where he sat in the living room, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a book resting open in one hand. He had been halfway through reading when he heard you come in.

Something was wrong.

He knew it before he even saw your face.

You were trying so hard to hold yourself together that it hurt to watch.

“There you are,” he said gently, setting the book aside. “Long day?”

You opened your mouth to answer and nothing came out as your lips trembled.

James was on his feet immediately.

He crossed the room in only a few strides, stopping just in front of you. His blue eyes searched yours, alert in the same way they became during missions, except this wasn’t professional instinct.

This was love.

“What happened?”

You laughed once and it came out as something painfully close to a sob. “I…” You swallowed. “I don’t know.” Your hands pressed themselves to your eyes and that was all it took.

The tears came without warning.

One escaped, then another, and suddenly you couldn’t stop them.

“Oh, sweetheart…” James didn’t hesitate. He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you firmly against his chest.

You buried your face into his sweater and broke as you clutched his sweater. "I’m sorry," you mumbled between shaky breaths. “I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

Your fingers clutched at the fabric over his back as though letting go would make you fall apart completely.

“It was just…” You sniffled loudly. “Everything today.”

James rested his chin lightly against the top of your head as he rocked you. “Tell me.”

You shook your head.

“My brain wouldn’t…” You let out another frustrated cry. “It wouldn’t work today.”

His hand slowly rubbed comforting circles across your back. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

“I kept forgetting things.” Your words tumbled out now that the dam had broken. “Someone would tell me something and I’d walk away and immediately forget. Then I’d remember something else halfway through another task and leave that one unfinished.”

James remained silent.

Listening.

Always listening to you.

“And everyone kept interrupting me.” Your voice cracked again. “And every interruption made me forget what I was already doing.”

You let out an exhausted laugh through tears. “I had like…six different thoughts happening at once.”

James smiled softly. “I’ve seen that look.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I was trying so hard.” More tears slipped free. “I really was.”

“I know you were.”

“No…” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I don’t think anyone there knows I was trying.”

James reached up, brushing a tear from beneath your eye with his thumb.

“I do.”

That simple sentence nearly started you crying all over again.

“I just…” You sniffled. “I felt stupid.”

His expression hardened, not toward you, but toward the idea itself. “You are one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t feel clever.”

“Because today was difficult.”

You nodded miserably. “I lost my favorite pen.”

“You’ll find it.”

“I already know where it is.”

“You do?”

“I left it in the staff refrigerator.”

James blinked. “…Why?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

The sheer despair in your voice was so genuine that for a heartbeat he tried very hard not to smile.

Then you looked at him.

“I also found my coffee in the supply closet.”

“You certainly travel creatively.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t.”

He kissed your forehead. “No, you don’t.”

You sighed against him, exhausted. “They looked at me like I was incompetent.”

James’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

He had stared down terrorists.He had been shot, poisoned, and nearly drowned.

But watching someone make you feel inadequate made him far angrier than any of those things.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve watched you restart a man’s heart.”

You looked up, lips trembling.

“I’ve watched you calmly explain complicated medical procedures to frightened families.”

Another kiss found your forehead.

“I’ve watched you remember birthdays, favorite meals, tiny details people mentioned months ago.”

His hand found yours.

“You care more than anyone I know.”

“I just wish my brain worked like everyone else’s.”

James gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t.”

You frowned. “What?”

“If your mind worked like everyone else’s…” He smiled faintly. “…you wouldn’t be you.”

You stared at him.

“You notice things other people miss.” His fingers intertwined with yours. “You make connections no one else does.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“You ask questions everyone else assumes aren’t worth asking.”

A tiny smile finally tugged at the corner of your mouth. “I ask a lot of questions.”

“You do.”

“I interrupted Q yesterday because I wanted to know why the stapler was magnetic.”

“…Was it?”

“It wasn’t.”

James chuckled. “I see.”

“I just wanted to know.”

“I know.”

Another long silence settled between you.

Comfortable.

Safe.

Your breathing slowly evened out.

James reached down and quietly untied your work shoes for you.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He slipped each shoe off with practiced care before standing again. “You’ve spent all day taking care of everyone else.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Allow someone to take care of you.”

Fresh tears threatened again. “You always know what to say.”

“No.” He smiled. “I’ve simply learned what you need to hear.”

You leaned into him once more. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t want to cook.”

“We’ll order something.”

“I don’t want to choose.”

“I’ll choose.”

“I don’t want to make any decisions.”

“You won’t.” His voice remained calm and certain.“I’ll handle everything tonight.”

You let out the deepest sigh of the entire day. “Can we just…” You hesitated. “…lay on the couch?”

James looked almost amused. “That’s all?”

“I just want you to hold me.”

He brushed another kiss into your hair. “I was rather hoping you’d ask.”

A few minutes later you were curled against him beneath the oversized blanket, your head resting on his chest while the television played some documentary neither of you were actually watching.

James stroked your hair slowly, rhythmically, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear grounding you more effectively than any words could.

After a while, you mumbled sleepily, “I’m sorry I cried all over your sweater.”

He looked down at you with unmistakable affection. “My love…” His arms tightened just enough for you to feel it.

“I’ve survived collapsing buildings, poisoned cocktails, and hostile interrogations.” He kissed the top of your head. “I think I can survive a few tears.”

For the first time all day, you laughed.

A real one.

James smiled to himself.

That sound alone made every mission he’d ever survived seem easy by comparison. Tonight, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than right there on the couch, holding the woman he loved until she remembered that one difficult day could never define her.

[totallynottinsel]

Ooh can we get villain reader x Bond where we were GOING to interrogate him, and then we realized a) the man’s mental heath is absolutely FUCKED and b) he keeps panting and whimpering like a puppy when we get physically close so we decide to pet and spoil him rotten instead

anon, this is SO GOOD. Had to jump to work on it immediately, we all know even the villains can't resist his witty charm and pathetic puppy dog eyes. hope I was able to do this request justice!!!

I wasn't too sure how to fully rope in the spoiling him bit, but he definitely does get the special treatment 👀 also i vague abt readers job specifics, so y'all can decide what kind of villain you are!

- Like a Moth To a Flame

first light!James Bond x M!Villain Reader

tags\other notes: post canon, no spoilers for 007 First Light, bisexual James Bond, queer reader, !Villian Reader, no use of y\n for reader, non descriptive reader, mutual attraction, banter as flirting, tension, eventually resolved tension, whats the opposite of slow burn, very fast burn???? touched starved James Bond, possibly mildly dubious circumstances? though it is heavily implied james is getting even more of a kick out of this than reader, he might have undiagnosed bdsm, enemies with benefits, psst nobody tell MI6

"Who is he?"

"Clearly some MI6 rat… only they would have the nerve to try to pull something like this off."

"But why now?"

"I'll tell you why; it's this catastrophe with the Webbs. MI6 is getting bolder by the minute, thinking they are invincible…"

"Sir?"

You took your eyes off the floor, your colleagues still discussing theories through a call, your phone right next to you, their disgruntled voices on speaker. You looked up to the lackey who peeked his head through the door, gesturing for you that things were 'ready'.

"____, we want answers." You were told through the phone.

"Then I'll get you some." You hung up, taking in a breath and heading out the door. You straightened your shirt as you went down the hall, your footsteps echoing every click and thump, till you reached the room where your surprise guest had been kept. The alleged MI6 agent who had slipped into your own home under the cover of night, in hopes of retrieving something. What he sought to find in particular, you were not so certain yet; you had quite a lot that sticky fingers wished to grab, to steal or to sell to the highest bidder. But this agent—he had been the only one to get this far. You could admit that you were fairly intrigued by him; you knew his fabled name, and the apparent boldness he carried in order to do such a job, but you had not matched the face to it until now.

The door slowly snapped shut behind you, the light of the room low. Ahead of you was the agent, tied to a chair with his hands behind his back, a cloth wrapped around and covering his mouth. His head hung low; exhausted and spent, you could easily see. "He hasn't talked." One of your security guards came up to you, keeping a quiet voice, the other beside him twiddling a pocket knife through his fingers, suggesting: "I could change that. Just give me the go-ahead and—"

"That won't be necessary." You stopped him there. "Leave."

They listened to you at once, scampering out of the room, leaving you and the agent all on your own. You walked up to him, leisurely, unthreatening; you had no intention of using brute force to get the information you wanted. But still, his breath hitched as you stood behind him, undoing the cloth, your touch striking a bit of life back into him. You pulled over a chair then and sat down in front of him, his eyes finally wandering up to meet yours. "James Bond, the name on everyone's lips recently. You broke into this building like it was nothing, and took down twenty of my men in barely ten minutes." You had found yourself watching the CCTV footage as it happened earlier, honestly impressed by his smooth efficiency as he fought. Whoever trained him had done so starkly well—but evidently hadn't thoroughly toughened him, by the way his eyes continued to falter from you, or how his shoulders tensed at the spike of your voice.

"If your going to kill me, I'd rather you just skip the lecture, yeah?" James spoke up, his voice like a dull blade that once carried a fierce sharpness.

"I'm not." You said. Perhaps at first you had planned to—perhaps, had it been someone else, you would have killed them on the spot. You should treat him like any other criminal who tried robbing you, but now face-to-face with the culprit, it truly felt as if you couldn't.

Perhaps you simply did not want to.

Bond's brows furrowed, lifting his head to look at you straight on, the small expression on his face surprised by your answer, almost as if to say: 'well, why not?'

You had seen that questioning look before, the kind that often belonged to men who constantly found themselves dancing on the edge of danger. Tasting it, testing it's limits, men who were like yourself. You wondered just how close James Bond was willing to dance into dangerous territory.

You stood to your feet, taking a look at the nearby table that had Bond's belongings scattered all over it, most of it looking like mundane everyday items. You picked up the golden colored gun, running your fingers over the cool shining surface and the little indentations. "This is nice. Where did you get something like this?"

"You'd be surprised what you can find at second hand stores these days." He told you, a quietly sarcastic glint in his tone.

His little quip actually made you smile.

"What did they send you here for?" You tried returning back to the important topic at hand, though it really did not interest you much anymore. You were suddenly more interested in him, rather than what his job was. Still, you pretended to care.

"I'm afraid that's classified." He said.

"Is it? A rhetorical question; you shifted around the watch now in your hands, which only held a kindle of finery compared to it's owner. You approached him again, his back straightening at your closeness. You reached out a hand, grabbing him by his chin—a hum, almost a whimper escaping his throat as you held him. Your hold was not strong, Bond could have pulled away if he wished, but he didn't. Your fingers slunk down his neck, your thumb pressing against his adams apple, feeling it bob as he swallowed hard. He kept your gaze, something you couldn't take away just yet, seeing the small shake in his eyes. The familiar look of a wounded man, who's life was scattered and misplaced like puzzle pieces, which he so desperately was trying to bring back together. No, this agent did not deserve to be battered and wrung like the rest; you wanted to give him better. You could.

"How about we do this a different way?" You let go of him, having an idea then.

"What sort of… different? " He sounded a bit winded.

"We'll talk. Just… more comfortably. You can come up to my apartment and we'll settle whatever it is you came here for."

Bond scoffed to that, a small grin lifting on his lips. "And how am I supposed to know your not just going to kill me as soon as I'm there?"

"Well, you don't." You admitted. "But I can't exactly trust you either, can I? Your the one who just broke into my home, with the intention of—what? Killing, robbing me? How do I know you won't shoot me dead the second I let you go?"

"Touché."

"But, then again, I don't think you will." You stepped behind his chair, undoing his ties. Bond still watched you cautiously, messaging his bruised wrists from the binds, but clearly enough watching with a generous helping of curiosity. He stood, eyeing you up. "What do you say?"

"You only live once."

You tossed Bond back his watch, a show of relative trust. "Though, I believe I'll be keeping these," You gestured to the gadgets and the golden gun on the table. "Until we are… a bit more aquatinted?"

"I suppose that's fair enough." Bond nodded, strapping on his watch to his wrist. "A bit… unorthodox."

"You caught me on a good night." Maybe it was just him that was making it good. You strolled to the door, opening it and gesturing for him to come over. You knew it would spell trouble for you inviting an MI6 agent further into your own house, or, at least your peers and security would certainly think so; you were practically offering Bond exactly what he was searching for, served on a silver shouting platter. But, then again, every mouse sneaking inside a home needed a bit of cheese to nibble on before the trap sprung.

The metaphorical cheese in this sense? Well, you, of course. Though, you hadn't exactly planned for that.

You brought him through the building and up to your penthouse, dismissing the rest of the security there, regardless of their suspicious stares and overall, fairly understandable concern. "So, I was on the wrong floor." Bond remarked, taking a look at the wide space. Though, the comment felt as if it was pointed to whoever gave him the wrong directions.

"You were supposed to come here?" You weren't so surprised; leave it to MI6 to net the fish in their sleep. Or you in your bed. "I'll give it to you, this isn't exactly an easy building to crack. Sometimes I get locked out of the damn place."

Taking out a good bottle from the drawer, you offered him a drink—but he eyed the glass as if he had already fallen for this kind of trick before. You took a swig of the drink yourself; it really was just alcohol, which he took then after. You stood across from each other, the flickering lights of the city behind you out the tall windows. "Can't say I've ever been given the five-star treatment when it comes to interrogations." He said.

"Who said this was an interrogation?" You quirked your head as you took a sip of your own drink.

"Well, then just what is it?"

"An honest conversation between two men who know what they want. No questions needed to be asked." You answered, setting down your drink and leaning against the small side table by you. "But I do have one more for you…" You closed the space between the two of you, one hand rested on the table, while your other adjusted the collar of Bond's jacket, hearing him take in a breath in response to your touch, the same as he had in the chair. The same desperate glint in his eyes that showed he was hungry for that touch; abandoning the task to dance with the threat he was supposed to extinguish. "Do you like playing with fire, Mr. Bond?"

You noticed the way his lips lifted toward a barely hidden, sly smile. He took out the earpiece he had and chucked it over onto the lounge chair, discarding whomever may be tuning in right as you stepped forward and pinned him up against the side table, making it shake as you welcomed his lips to yours. Bond sighed with relief; a sound you could get used to hearing.

You could tell it was going to be a drawn out night, but that's all something your colleagues and MI6 didn't need to know the little details of anymore.