#fluentmoviequoter tgtbatu

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 3/3 of my sweet, soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He kisses you off-duty and you both decide to hide your new relationship.

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, incorrect (and improbable) police procedure

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the love on this miniseries! And extra special thanks again to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses and @writings-of-a-demigod!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim told you on your first day that personal lives have no business in your professional police life. That was before he kissed you after hours and admitted that he was falling in love with you. It still shocks you when you relive it, which you’ve done for most of the morning. Tim seemed like the perfect, most rule-abiding TO at Mid-Wilshire. As he walks into roll call, you duck your chin.

He sits directly behind you and mumbles, “Welcome to the ugly. Until we’re in a position where this doesn’t get us both fired, learn to keep that line solid.”

You nod. The line between professional and private disappeared completely last night as you lost sight of everything except Tim. Even now, hours later, your mind wants to think of nothing except Tim, Tim, Tim, and the kiss he gave you last night. But you’re trapped between a rock and a hard place, in a lie, and dependent on the truth. So, you have to balance the different areas of your life, and now the ugly has spread from the crimes you stop to your answer about why you wear the uniform.

“Good morning,” Wade greets as he walks to his podium. “Rookies, what day is it?”

“Test day,” you answer with your fellow boots.

“That’s right. So, you’ll work the first six hours of your shift, then come back here for the written and oral examinations. Which means your TO is going to stick to easy calls. Right, Bradford?”

“Yes, sir,” Tim says.

“Good. Then get out there and don’t stress too much. 80 is passing.”

You stand after Wade leaves the room. Tim makes eye contact with you, and you nod. It will be a long day, and as your mind swings from thinking about Tim to worrying about your test, you aren’t sure if you can survive the ugly. Worse, it’s only just beginning.

Last Night

“Tim!” you call as you jog toward him.

Tim stops beside his truck and turns to face you. He furrows his brows as he waits for you to speak, though seeing you in civvies takes him back to the dream he hasn’t told you about.

“I- I’m sorry for keeping you, but… what are my chances? Really?” you inquire softly.

“Of passing? They’re great, you don’t have anything to be worried about,” Tim assures.

“And you?”

“I’ll give you the recommendation and reports you deserve.”

“No, I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

You step back and drop your eyes, but Tim reaches out. He stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and waits until your eyes reach his. The concerned look in his eyes makes the emotions you’re already struggling with strengthen into a raging storm that you can’t control.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk,” Tim says. “Your choice.”

You say the name of your favorite restaurant, and Tim nods as his hand slides from your arm. He says he’ll meet you there, and you wonder if this is how the bad ends. Then you remember what comes after. When Tim brought up the good, the bad, and the ugly, you didn’t imagine it taking over your life and every thought like this.

After you park outside the restaurant, Tim walks to your car and opens your door. He blocks your path, keeping you in your seat.

“What are you really worried about?” he asks, leaning toward you with one hand braced on the top of your car.

“Um,” you mumble.

“You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to mess this up, but I don’t know what to do.”

“About your future or me?”

You look up into Tim’s eyes. They’re free from condescension or anger, only concern and an inquisitive glint. He’s asking as a person, not your TO.

“You,” you admit. “I like you, Tim, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep everything bottled up. Even though I know I’m putting my career and yours at risk.”

Tim moves his hand from the side of your door to your chin. He tilts your face up toward his and smiles.

“Then I guess we’ll have to keep this between us,” he says.

Your mind and emotions are overcome when Tim kisses you. He’s all that you can think of, and though you know it’s wrong and could bring about the ugly you desperately wish to avoid, you don’t want to stop kissing him.

Present Day

Grey calls your name from his office as you exit the locker room. “A word?”

Once you’re seated and his door is closed, Wade sighs. He sits across from you and opens a folder with your name.

“I have your grade and the reports of your oral test. The examiners had a lot to say about you,” he explains.

“Oh,” you reply. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything yet. Your score is tied with the station record for highest ever achieved, you set a new record for the oral portion, and the chief wants to offer you a golden ticket. When you came in, I knew you had potential, and I knew you’d find it working with Bradford. But this? You succeeded even my high expectations.”

“A golden ticket?”

“That’s right. You can pick your career, not many rookies get chances like this so soon. Plus, you can decide to never see Bradford again if you transfer the right way.”

Wade chuckles at his own joke, but you have another idea in mind.

“Can I ask a hypothetical?” you ask.

“Does it have to do with the looks you and Bradford give each other?” he responds. “Because if it does, we can file with IA now and get you out of his chain of command. There wouldn’t be any problem with a relationship in that case.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t tell anyone until tomorrow, okay? Congratulations, officer.”

You shake Wade’s hand before you leave. Telling Tim the news is the only thing you want to do, but as you walk out of the station, you know you’ll have to avoid him tonight.

“How are you going to use your golden ticket?” Tim asks after roll call.

“I haven’t decided yet. Somewhere far outside of your chain of command, I think,” you answer.

“That eager to get away from me?”

“The opposite. I found us a way out of the ugly.”

Tim looks around, then steps into your space. “Do not choose a career that you don’t truly want in an effort to be personally happy. The lines are separate, but they affect one another. It’s not worth-“

“Tim,” you interrupt. “I know what I want, and I’m going to do it. But I want you, this, us, too. No matter how ugly things get along the way.”

“You’re too good,” Tim murmurs.

“For what?”

“All of it.”

You shake your head, and Tim tilts his head to direct you around a corner. Out of the open, he kisses you quickly.

“I was wrong,” he whispers as you pull back.

“About?” you reply.

“The ugly is just what we deal with. It’s always there, but with you… You make it all good.”

“At least I didn’t get a machete to the hand this time,” you joke.

Tim makes a disappointed sound, then raises his hand to either side of your neck to kiss you again. He’s right; no matter how ugly things get during your shift, having him at your side or watching your back makes it all good. The bad is past, and it only gets better from here.

“Good thing I alerted the higher ups already.”

You pull away from Tim quickly and apologize sheepishly to Wade for the public affection. He brushes it off as a celebration before he hands you the completed paperwork for your golden ticket transfer. Tim wishes you luck, but you know it will turn out good.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

✵ Part 2/3 of what is now a sweet, soft Tim moments miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He has a dream about you and realizes that he's in a bad spot.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, Tim and r making things hard on themselves

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: Many thanks to the kind words of @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @writings-of-a-demigod and @newobsessionweekly on the first part! Thanks for the inspiration and love! Here's more soft Tim realizing how he feels.🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Well, what do you think?”

Tim watches you spin in the new outfit before you place your hands on your hips and look at him. He’s been waiting outside the dressing room for too long, but he can’t find it in himself to ask you to leave. 

“It’s beautiful. So were the last five,” Tim tells you. 

“That’s not helpful,” you lament. “I have to pick the best one!”

“It’s a charity dinner, not your wedding. Just pick what you like, what you feel good in, and let’s go. We do have a shift to finish.”

“We have fifteen more minutes of our lunch break,” you point out. “Let me try on one more.”

Tim stands and counters, “Only if I get to pick it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m in room 2.”

Tim nods and turns like he’s on a life-dependent mission. He navigates through the racks of clothing as if a suspect is hiding in them. When he finds something he thinks you’ll like and knows you’ll look great wearing, he picks it up and returns to the dressing room. 

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he says as he passes the hanger over the door. 

“And you always make things so easy,” you argue playfully. “Oh, this is nice.”

Tim returns to the plush chair in the waiting area and leans back. His belt digs into his side, but he doesn’t bother to move. He’d prefer to leave than to find a new position. When you emerge in Tim's suggested outfit, you smile at him, and Tim stands quickly. 

“That’s the one,” he murmurs. 

“I think so too. You have better taste than I anticipated, Bradford.”

You return to the dressing room to change into your uniform again, and Tim feels like he has been kicked in the chest. Everything about this has been domestic, slow, just you and Tim, but then you called him Bradford. And, when he stands beside you in the checkout lane, both dressed in patrol blues, Tim is cruelly reminded that you are his rookie, partners at most, and this was just a convenient trip for you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming with me, for putting up with me, being so nice. Everything.”

“Of course,” Tim answers. 

“I, uh, I was wondering if you had an outfit for the dinner?”

“I’ve got a suit somewhere in my closet.”

You nod and look down at the outfit draped over your arm. 

“I think you need one more thing,” Tim adds. 

“What? I’ve got the outfit, shoes, a-“

“A date,” Tim interrupts. “Do you… would you want to go with me? As more than two cops from the same station?”

You look at him wordlessly and shift on your feet. Tim immediately begins to regret asking and tries to find a way to make a joke or a reason to call you boot and put everything back in perspective. 

“I’m sorry,” he decides on. 

“No, I want to say yes, I just assumed you were kidding.”

“Why?” Tim questions, reaching toward you. 

“You were nice to me the day that I got my hand sliced open, but you told me then that-“

Tim wakes when his arm jerks. He expects to feel you beside him, but as he sits in his bed, in his house, in his lonely existence, he realizes it was all a dream. He was nice to you that day, but he wonders if there’s something he could do now to show you it wasn't a one-off kindness. You’re his rookie, but Tim needs more. 

“Oh,” he murmurs as everything sinks in. He dreamt about you because you affect him and his emotions more than you’ll ever know. That date, the touch he misses without ever feeling, everything about the dream was the unconscious pursuit of Tim’s true desires. 

“This is bad, Kojo,” Tim mumbles. “Very bad.”

The following morning, Tim can’t make eye contact with you. He hasn’t been nervous around a woman since he and Isabel were dating. As he sidesteps you to avoid touching you, he wonders if there is any chance you want it, too. There’s too much risk, he decides; your safety and his judgement are more important than his feelings or some high school-level crush on the one girl he can’t get. 

“So,” you begin as you get in the shop. “Sergeant Grey said days with lots of events are hectic. Does that make this the bad?” you ask. 

“When are you going to stop asking me that?” Tim asks. “You’ll know when the bad is.”

“Well I thought a dozen stitches was bad, but if that was the good, I’d like a heads up from you before the bad really happens.”

“That part wasn’t the good,” Tim huffs. “The bad is… it’s the rest of it. Everything until you pass your exam and start seeing the ugly that scars the good.”

You purse your lips and nod to yourself. “You’re in a good mood today. Chipper, almost.”

“It’s not supposed to make you happy, but it’s police work.”

“I think it’s the bad for another reason,” you admit. “Because I can’t talk about anything. Questions, ideas, opinions, even just how I feel, nothing I say or do gets taken seriously now, but the second I mess up, no one will forget it. My bad days can ruin me.”

“It gets better,” Tim assures. He notices your eyes on him when you say ‘how I feel’ but doesn’t push. “But keeping a low profile as a rookie has its pros and cons.”

You nod and look out the passenger window. This is the bad, and you are already in the worst of it; you and Tim are hiding your feelings from each other and trying to keep them from affecting yourselves. The lies that you and Tim think in a vain effort to stay professional and protect your hearts only make it harder to see that the person sitting beside you sees past your uniform. Your only concern is that the ugly will scar you before you escape from the bad and invite Tim into the good beside you. No matter where you are, in the good, the bad, or the ugly of police work, Tim will be beside you. But maybe you need his hand in yours and a promise that there’s more. Because this is bad, but it could get a whole lot worse. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 1/3 of my soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. You're injured and he shows his care without thinking.

Warnings: fluff, brief insecurity, description of injuries and stitches. r has hair long enough to pull back but no specific qualities!

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: This is just a little something I wrote last night. A scene of Tim being soft toward you, his favorite rookie. :)

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim Bradford can be gruff, pushy, and, at times, downright mean. But he never pushes his trainees more than they can handle, and his relentless tests and trials are for their benefit. By leading them to their potential or letting them fall short of it, he shows himself and them that they do (or in many cases, don’t) have what it takes. So, when people ask you if Tim Bradford is hard to work with or a tough TO, the answer is usually yes. 

But then there are moments like this. 

As you sit in the emergency room with a bloody wad of paper towels wrapped around your hand and your hair falling in your face, you watch Tim. He’s been on the phone since you arrived, pacing as he explains what happened to Sergeant Grey. You hadn’t seen Tim worried about you like this before today, but the moment he noticed the concerning amount of blood dripping from your hand as you stood your ground against an armed suspect, he showed you a side of himself that you’d never seen before. 

“Let’s get that hand looked at. I’m Dr. Grace Sawyer.”

You nod at Grace as you stand and brace your injured hand against the other. She smiles kindly as you introduce yourself and leads you into a nearby room. 

“Take a seat and I’ll unwrap Officer Bradford’s patch job,” she instructs. 

After you sit and extend your hand toward her, she carefully unwraps the blood-soaked towels and deposits it into a biohazard container behind her. The gash across your palm and over the side of your wrist begins bleeding again without the pressure of Tim’s impromptu wrap job. He yelled at you while he did it, but you know why. 

“How’d this happen?” Grace asks. 

“I, uh… I was supposed to stay out of the way until our backup got there, but a guy ran up behind Officer Bradford, my TO, with a machete. I jumped in before I thought about it," you answer.

“Clearly,” Tim grumbles as he walks in. “How is she?” he asks Grace. 

“I’m going to put in a few stitches. I’ll wrap it so she can get back to work, though. Is this your dominant hand?”

“No,” you answer softly, looking at Tim. 

Tim nods once before he walks to stand behind you. You feel his fingers in your hair before you can ask what he’s doing. Less than an hour ago, someone else had their fingers on your scalp, but you weren’t as accepting of the touch. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works your ponytail holder loose. 

“Fixing your hair. This look isn’t exactly department-approved and you can’t do it with stitches in your palm,” Tim answers. 

You turn your attention toward Grace and watch her work instead of focusing on how softly Tim is touching you or how close his chest is to your back. His warmth and care for you threaten to distract you from why you're here and what you're supposed to do when you leave.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when his finger hooks on a tangle. 

“It’s okay,” you reply. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” Tim asks. 

“I am. Thanks to you.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move that hand,” Grace says.

She winks as she stands, and you wonder if she knows how much trouble you’d get in for making a move on your TO. Not that you haven’t thought about it. Although, it always ends in rejection, even in your daydreams. The downside of knowing Tim so well, you think. 

“I don’t even know how he got my hand and my hair so fast,” you admit. “It was like I felt the slice and then he was yanking me backward.”

“You stood your ground well,” Tim responds. “Not that I’m praising you disobeying me and jumping in, but what you did was well done. Unnecessary, but properly executed.”

“Unnecessary?” you repeat. “I’ll remember that next time a guy is about to use a machete against your back.”

“You know what I mean,” Tim adds quietly. 

He drops his hands to your shoulders briefly, and when he pulls away, you shiver at the loss of warmth. 

“It’s not perfect, or exactly how you had it,” he begins as he rounds the exam table. 

“It’s great. Thank you,” you interject. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Trust me, I’ll try. Twelve stitches across my palm was never the goal.”

Tim rolls his eyes and sits in a nearby chair to wait for Grace to finish treating your cut. You watch him, and when you notice his shoulders drop, you push him back for once. 

“You know, I’ve been looking for a new hairstylist for an event next month,” you say. 

“No,” Tim answers. 

He crosses his arms tightly against his chest and tilts his head away from you. That means it’s working. 

“But you did so well! I mean, I haven’t felt this good because of a hairstyle since… I can’t remember.”

“Then learn to do it yourself.”

“But you’re my partner,” you argue with a pout. 

“When I said I’d be with you through the good, the bad, and the ugly, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“But I’ll be ugly without beautiful hairstyles like this!”

Tim straightens quickly and says, “You’re kidding. Right?”

You shrug and look at the stitches lining your hand. 

“You’re beautiful,” he adds. “No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.”

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

“I’m back,” Grace announces. “Let me wrap this and you’ll be good to go.”

“About time,” Tim sighs. “Way to waste our afternoon, boot.”

You don’t hear a word he says. The only thing worth remembering for the foreseeable future is Tim Bradford saying, ‘You’re beautiful. No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.’ When you climb back into the shop a few minutes later, you realize that life will be hard with one of your hands out of commission. 

“How am I supposed to do anything without bothering this?” you ask. 

“Carefully. You just…” Tim sighs and knocks his knuckles against the steering wheel for a moment. Then he says, “Just call me if you need help.”

It takes you a second to register what he said and believe you heard him correctly, and your questioning sound communicates that. 

“Don’t make me regret it,” he adds. 

“Is this the ugly you meant?” you tease. 

“No,” Tim answers. “This is the good.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Since When?

0.3k+ words of Tim Bradford and secret wife fluff. (this could be read as a follow-up to '#fluentmoviequoter tgtbatu' but also works as a standalone blurb)

“We have a problem,” Lucy announces as she enters the roll call room.

“Sure, come on in,” Wade deadpans. “What’s the problem?”

“Tim isn’t responding to radio calls.”

“Where is he?” you ask.

“He was dispatched on a noise disturbance call. It’s been fifteen minutes since he last checked in and now there’s nothing.”

“Where was the call?” Angela inquires, standing as she worries about Tim.

“That’s the thing. The caller said they couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was within a few blocks. So, he could be anywhere in that radius.”

Wade pulls his radio from his side and calls for Bradford to reply. There’s nothing in return, and he turns to look at you. With a single nod, you pull your phone from your pocket and open the tracking app installed on it. A blue dot appears on the map with Tim’s initials inside it.

“He’s moving. Looks like he’s heading back here,” you relay.

When you look up, Lucy, Nolan, Nyla, and Angela watch you in stunned silence. Wade presses his lips together to contain his smile and possible laughter as you look between your colleagues.

“Since when does Tim trust people enough to do that?” Lucy asks finally.

Nolan nods along with her inquiry as Nyla shakes her head in disbelief.

“Since we got married,” you answer.

The silence settles over the room again, but you reopen the tracking app before anyone can speak. There’s a commotion outside the roll call room just before Tim appears on the other side of the glass wall. He sees you standing with the others and walks inside.

“My radio caught on fire,” Tim explains.

“Caught on fire?” Wade repeats. “By itself?”

“What’d I miss?” Tim asks rather than answering.

“You got married and didn’t tell me!” Angela yells, shoving Tim’s shoulder.

“You told them?” Tim whispers at your side.

“They were going to find out eventually,” you remind him. “But they wanted to know why I could track your phone.”

“You could’ve said anything else.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tim smiles and brushes his fingers across the back of your hand. He’s not really mad that you outed your secret marriage, so maybe you can leverage his reaction to get some attention after work.