prettyprincesse80

[prettyprincesse80]

Dispatch: Home

Chapter 1 : Finders Keepers

Summary : The little things that make a life together: Lucy stealing his clothes, Tim pretending to mind, quiet mornings, loud arguments over takeout, and all the in-between moments that never make it into the official reports. A series of standalone domestic snapshots.

Tim stopped in the doorway. Lucy was sprawled on his couch like she owned the place — which, technically, was getting truer by the day — legs tucked under her, colorful socks on display, a mug of tea balanced on the coffee table. The gray hoodie she had on was all too familiar.

“Chen.”

She glanced up, all innocence and a smile tugging at her lips.

“Bradford.”

“That’s mine.”

Lucy tugged the sleeves down over her hands, shrugging like it wasn’t the most obvious theft.

“I was cold.”

Tim stepped closer, arms crossed.

“You have your own.”

“Not like this one. This one’s special.”

“It’s old.”

“Exactly. Broken in. Comfortable. Smells like… you.”

He rolled his eyes but still held out his hand.

“Give it back.”

She shook her head, curling her knees up to her chest, clutching the fabric like it was treasure.

“No.”

So he tried. For real. Tim leaned down and grabbed the hem, tugging firmly but not too hard. Lucy burst out laughing, wriggling away, clutching at the cushion behind her like it was a shield. It turned into a ridiculous little wrestling match, Tim pulling, Lucy laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“You’re gonna stretch it,” he grumbled, unable to hide the smile pulling at his mouth.

“Then it’ll be even more mine!”

Right in the middle of the commotion, Kojo jumped onto the couch and plopped himself between them, paws landing squarely on the hoodie in question. Lucy laughed harder, petting his head and using him as cover.

“See? Even Kojo agrees.”

Tim sighed in defeat, sinking back into the cushions, arms folded.

“One day, I’m actually gonna keep a hoodie for longer than a week.”

Lucy slid against him, still grinning.

“Dream on.”

He turned his head, ready with a comeback, but she hit him with those eyes — bright, soft, impossible to fight. That was it. He let out a short laugh, gave in, and slung an arm around her, tugging lightly at the fabric she refused to surrender.

A few minutes later, Lucy had dozed off against him, still wrapped up in the stolen hoodie. Tim glanced down, tugged the hood gently up over her, and shook his head in resignation.

“Fine. Keep it. But you owe me.”

She mumbled a sleepy “deal,” and he already knew he’d never see that hoodie again.

[prettyprincesse80]

She threw herself in front of a bullet meant for him. No thought, just instinct.

Now, in the station's locker room, the adrenaline won't let go and Tim Bradford is standing too close, looking at her with something raw she's never seen before.

Some silences say more than words ever could.

[prettyprincesse80]

I miss them!!

[prettyprincesse80]

Terse nods, a love language by Tim Bradford

[prettyprincesse80]

Lucy & Tim appreciation event 2024 ✄┈┈ Humorous Tim quotes

[prettyprincesse80]

There are far too many The Rookie Fanfic writers to name individually but I just want to shout out to all those who have put in the time and effort to create a fanfic, whether it's a multichap epic or a short and sweet drabble, there's literally something for everyone. So thank you all so much for making my day a little brighter! To those who write for their fave canon ships, those who write for the platonic besties, those who write for the rare pairs, you're doing an amazing thing by creating a piece of writing and choosing to share it with all of us. Writing isn't easy, sometimes it's incredibly lonely, but you took a blank page and gave us a moment for our favourite characters and that's a gift.

So Happy Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day to all of you.

[prettyprincesse80]

(via)

[prettyprincesse80]

since the wait is a little longer than normal, here's a sneak peak from chapter 19 of insignificance!

(if you're not yet caught up on my 522 canon divergence, our insignificance in nature, you can find it here!)

[prettyprincesse80]

Bropez is my favorite friendship so far!

3AM Truths

Midnight. Mid-Wilshire station. Tim can't sleep anymore. Angela finds him drowning in silence. Sometimes the noise dying is worse than the chaos itself.

Post TheMickey 07X07

Los Angeles, even past midnight, the air clings, heat pressing down without falling. Mid-Wilshire’s dead quiet. Coffee machine still rumbling, some keyboard tapping somewhere down the hall.

Tim Bradford is in the break room, or more like collapsed in a chair, boots propped on the one across, water bottle hanging from his fingers. Uniform sagging, hair a mess, eyes you don’t want to meet.

Since Mickey Barnes and The Hammer, everything's gone quiet, and when the noise dies, it leaves room for too much that rises back up.

Door creaks, Angela walks in with a bag of chips. Still wearing her jacket, badge hanging like she forgot to take it off. She stops when she sees him like that.

"Jesus, Bradford. You look like hell."

He looks up, tries a smile that doesn't stick.

"Night to you too, Lopez." He sets the bottle on the table, but his fingers stay wrapped around it, restless.

Angela sits, pulls a chair, opens her bag. The sharp sound cuts through the silence.

"You look like shit, tell me. You gonna talk or do I guess?"

"Nothing. Long day." It sounds fake. Even he knows it.

She chews, watches him like you watch a kid trying to lie.

"No. You wouldn't be sitting here at midnight just to slouch." He sighs, hand dragging across his face like he's trying to wipe off the exhaustion.

"Can't sleep."

"Since when?"

He looks down, freezes, too long for it to slide.

"Don't play shrink, Angela."

"I'm not. But you wouldn't be here if it was just insomnia."

Silence. The plastic crackles under his fingers. Lucy hits him out of nowhere, reflex.

Her laugh that held up the walls, the way she made him let go without even trying. And that moment when he shut the door himself, convinced he was protecting her, when really he knew she'd see too much.

He finally says, low:

"At night, it's empty."

Angela waits, doesn't move.

"Empty?"

He laughs, tired.

"Yeah."

She studies him, then drops it:

"It's Lucy, isn't it?"

He lowers his head, leans on his knees.

"Not just. It's everything. Me mostly."

Angela pushes her bag aside, leans in.

"You're doing it again. The old record: not good enough, never could stand straight." He looks up, hard.

"It's not a record. I fucked it all up. With her. With everything."

"Tim. We all screw up. Me, Wesley, Nolan, Lucy. You. Doesn't mean you tried to destroy it." He shakes his head, bitter.

"She can't even look at me."

"She's hurting. That's different. And stop throwing your dad at me every other sentence." His fingers squeeze the bottle till they're white.

"He was right."

Angela slams her palm on the table.

"No. Your dad was an asshole. You're not him. You can't sleep, it's not because you're fucked. It's because you're scared."

He looks away, voice cracked.

"Then explain why every time I close my eyes I see her face. Why I still hear what I threw at her."

Angela breathes out, watches him without saying anything for a moment.

"Because you love her. And it eats at you. But that doesn't mean it's over."

He tries a smile, doesn't believe it.

"I gave up though."

"Like everyone when it gets too heavy. But you, you always come back."

He hesitates.

"What if she never wants me again?"

Angela shrugs.

"Then you tried. But Lucy doesn't quit. You know that."

It makes him laugh, a real small tired laugh.

"Stubborn like only she knows how."

"Exactly. So you go home. You shower. You put on her stupid music. You close your eyes. And if it doesn't work, you call me. But not at four, because I sleep."

He shakes his head, a quiet smile.

"You're impossible."

"And you're an idiot. Balances out."

She gets up, taps his shoulder as she passes.

"Remember. You're not him. And you're not alone."

She leaves. He stays, bottle in his hand, eyes on the ceiling. Not sure he'll sleep tonight. But maybe soon.

[prettyprincesse80]

3AM Truths

Midnight. Mid-Wilshire station. Tim can't sleep anymore. Angela finds him drowning in silence. Sometimes the noise dying is worse than the chaos itself.

Post TheMickey 07X07

Los Angeles, even past midnight, the air clings, heat pressing down without falling. Mid-Wilshire’s dead quiet. Coffee machine still rumbling, some keyboard tapping somewhere down the hall.

Tim Bradford is in the break room, or more like collapsed in a chair, boots propped on the one across, water bottle hanging from his fingers. Uniform sagging, hair a mess, eyes you don’t want to meet.

Since Mickey Barnes and The Hammer, everything's gone quiet, and when the noise dies, it leaves room for too much that rises back up.

Door creaks, Angela walks in with a bag of chips. Still wearing her jacket, badge hanging like she forgot to take it off. She stops when she sees him like that.

"Jesus, Bradford. You look like hell."

He looks up, tries a smile that doesn't stick.

"Night to you too, Lopez." He sets the bottle on the table, but his fingers stay wrapped around it, restless.

Angela sits, pulls a chair, opens her bag. The sharp sound cuts through the silence.

"You look like shit, tell me. You gonna talk or do I guess?"

"Nothing. Long day." It sounds fake. Even he knows it.

She chews, watches him like you watch a kid trying to lie.

"No. You wouldn't be sitting here at midnight just to slouch." He sighs, hand dragging across his face like he's trying to wipe off the exhaustion.

"Can't sleep."

"Since when?"

He looks down, freezes, too long for it to slide.

"Don't play shrink, Angela."

"I'm not. But you wouldn't be here if it was just insomnia."

Silence. The plastic crackles under his fingers. Lucy hits him out of nowhere, reflex.

Her laugh that held up the walls, the way she made him let go without even trying. And that moment when he shut the door himself, convinced he was protecting her, when really he knew she'd see too much.

He finally says, low:

"At night, it's empty."

Angela waits, doesn't move.

"Empty?"

He laughs, tired.

"Yeah."

She studies him, then drops it:

"It's Lucy, isn't it?"

He lowers his head, leans on his knees.

"Not just. It's everything. Me mostly."

Angela pushes her bag aside, leans in.

"You're doing it again. The old record: not good enough, never could stand straight." He looks up, hard.

"It's not a record. I fucked it all up. With her. With everything."

"Tim. We all screw up. Me, Wesley, Nolan, Lucy. You. Doesn't mean you tried to destroy it." He shakes his head, bitter.

"She can't even look at me."

"She's hurting. That's different. And stop throwing your dad at me every other sentence." His fingers squeeze the bottle till they're white.

"He was right."

Angela slams her palm on the table.

"No. Your dad was an asshole. You're not him. You can't sleep, it's not because you're fucked. It's because you're scared."

He looks away, voice cracked.

"Then explain why every time I close my eyes I see her face. Why I still hear what I threw at her."

Angela breathes out, watches him without saying anything for a moment.

"Because you love her. And it eats at you. But that doesn't mean it's over."

He tries a smile, doesn't believe it.

"I gave up though."

"Like everyone when it gets too heavy. But you, you always come back."

He hesitates.

"What if she never wants me again?"

Angela shrugs.

"Then you tried. But Lucy doesn't quit. You know that."

It makes him laugh, a real small tired laugh.

"Stubborn like only she knows how."

"Exactly. So you go home. You shower. You put on her stupid music. You close your eyes. And if it doesn't work, you call me. But not at four, because I sleep."

He shakes his head, a quiet smile.

"You're impossible."

"And you're an idiot. Balances out."

She gets up, taps his shoulder as she passes.

"Remember. You're not him. And you're not alone."

She leaves. He stays, bottle in his hand, eyes on the ceiling. Not sure he'll sleep tonight. But maybe soon.

[prettyprincesse80]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63742885/chapters/179617011

[prettyprincesse80]

I love him so much!! 🥺

[prettyprincesse80]

requested by anonymous

[prettyprincesse80]

[prettyprincesse80]

To love people, to see all their ruinous trauma and ravaged scars, the venomous shadows of a wrecked past bleeding from them with their every move, every breath, and still love them softly, gently, compassionately.

[prettyprincesse80]

[prettyprincesse80]

They weren’t touching, not really — but it still felt like too much, like one breath too close to falling.